NewryUns

Hello Ü new NewryÜns inside ü, family , tribe ,anystate, a nüw newry city Yarn, . Just a 🧶 a pipe bomb and my stupid curiosity on all things newry ..

About NewryUns.com

Wuth a background in image media , With over 25 Years expertise , NewRayPics Image Agency and our award winning team of photographers, specialising in PR., Features, News and Sports photography, was based in Newry, County Down, Northern Ireland. Newraypics experienced photographers have been awarded two numerous 1st & 2nd place awards in the highly regarded NIPP

A Northern Ireland Press Photographers Association) as well as Photojournalism Awards in 2008/9, and 2011 plus a commendation in 2009. We regularly undertake assignments from the Broadsheet and Tabloid market including The Guardian, Daily Mail, Daily Mirror, The Sun, The Irish Examiner, Belfast Telegraph, The Irish News, The Newsletter, Irish Independent and Irish Times as well as features work for Periodic Magazines across the United Kingdom and Ireland additional to that we have a working relationship with local Press including The Newry Democrat,The Cross Examiner, Newry Reporter and Mourne Observer - more recently we have been suppling one of the largest photo agency's in the world - Alamy -

To a degree or soo . Newraypics overtime had the honor to also supply all Irish newspapers with live news events and our work has appeared in publications all over the world, Our archive (currently 400,000 images) is represented by some of the world's largest stock photography agencies - namely Getty Images, Zuma Press and Alamy Images. My photography has been licensed/commissioned by the following Corporations, Publications and Newswires: The Irish Examiner, The Irish Times, Sunday Business Post, Sunday Times,Red Bull, Bank of Ireland,Ulster Bank, RTE, BBC, UTV, Channel 4,CNN, The Guardian (UK),, The Times (UK), The Independent (UK)The Telegraph (UK). LA Times, New York Daily News and Daily Mail, and my work has been reproduced all over the world including Japan, South America, USA, Russia. I also have over 1,000 (that's correct one thousand) Pearson Publishing book covers that have been created with my images. I live 3kms outside Newry, County Down with my 4 chickens - distance no object! I am a fully insured, and have close links with the National Union of Journalists and the with Irish Press Photographers Association…

Once upon a time after I’d sampled all all of the above .. slowly I lost faith in myself and my natives .. how had I who sees everything .. not see the sorrow I was in … Due to a few forks in my life .. I lost my way . I shuttered up , I went to my safe place .. a dark room .. . , over time my batteries failed my camera old wore out , and me Getting 🤧 unhealthy was an added bonus ., sure I hadn’t two legs to stand on for the guts of a year . These and alas more ,,, Pausing my talented eye , lost and alone . and Sure I spent half the weeks daylight hours in a dark room printings as a young man .. where I was alone .. I think I always did .. ... anyhow .,. My photography yarn .. it’s starts when I was very young

But that’s for later exposure .. …..

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — A Wee Miracle Walked Into The Photograph 🐕📸✨

NewryÜns Archive — 1995

Back in 1995, during my early days wandering Newry, camera in hand, eye was sent along to photograph a group of Barr school pupils who were helping out with a fundraising appeal.

Nothing unusual about that.

A straightforward press photograph.

A few smiling youngsters.

A presentation cheque.

A quick click of the shutter.

Job done.

Or so eye thought.

The children were gathered outside, proudly holding their giant cheque, while eye fussed about trying to get everyone looking in roughly the same direction.

As every photographer knows…

getting four children to look at the camera at the same time is considerably harder than most military operations.

Then, completely uninvited…

a dog appeared.

Not running.

Not barking.

Not causing chaos.

Just casually strolling into the middle of the photograph as if he had received an official invitation.

The children immediately burst into smiles.

The adults laughed.

The dog examined the cheque with what appeared to be genuine interest.

And within seconds a democratic decision was reached.

The dog was staying.

No arguments.

No objections.

In fact, if memory serves me correctly, he was probably the most cooperative subject in the entire photograph.

Looking back now, that’s often how the best pictures happen.

You arrive with a plan.

Life ignores your plan.

Then hands you something better.

A random collie wandering into a fundraising photograph wasn’t part of the assignment.

But somehow he became the star of the show.

A wee four-legged miracle on camera.

And thirty years later, while most people would struggle to remember who was holding which corner of the cheque…

everybody remembers the dog.

Which just proves an important lesson in photography.

You can organise the people.

You can arrange the poses.

You can check the lighting.

But occasionally the best part of the photograph walks into the frame all by itself.

📸 NewryÜns Archive
📅 November 1995
🐕 Special Guest Appearance — Unscheduled
💷 Fundraising Appeal

#1995 🐕📸✨

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Bridge proxy Parliament of Newry 🌉📣🤟🏼

Archive — Somewhere in the 1990s.

Before Facebook.

Before Twitter.

Possibly on the Radio .

Before folk sat in their kitchens arguing with complete strangers from three continents away.

Newry had a much simpler system.

If you had something to say…

Word went out .. over fences .. over the radio .. You went to the bridge outside the Town Hall.

And you said it.

Loudly.

This images captures the first proper public rally I can remember seeing gathered outside Newry Town Hall.

The old bridge over the Clanrye transformed for an afternoon into what can only be described as the unofficial Parliament of Newry.

No fancy television studios.

No social media influencers.

No strategic communications teams.

Just a crowd of ordinary people standing on several hundred tons of granite politely informing politicians that they were not entirely happy.

Which, if we’re honest, has been one of Newry’s favourite hobbies for generations.

The Town Hall itself looked on with its usual expression.

A building that had already witnessed world wars, elections, strikes, protests, civic receptions, royal visits, theatrical triumphs, political rows, council meetings & enough heated debate to boil Carlingford Lough.

Nothing much surprised it anymore.

The banner hanging over the bridge read:

“NO TALK — NO WALK.”

Short.

Simple.

To the point.

The sort of slogan Newry people appreciate.

Why use twenty words when four will do?

Around it gathered workers, families, shopkeepers, councillors, curious passers-by, professional protesters, amateur protesters & those wonderful Newry characters who simply turned up because there appeared to be a crowd.

Nobody knew exactly what was happening.
What talk ? What walk ?
But they weren’t going to miss it.

That bridge has seen countless gatherings over the decades.

Political rallies.

Charity events.

Celebrations.

Protests.

Victories.

Defeats.

And the occasional heated exchange where everyone somehow managed to remain friends afterwards.

Because that’s Newry.

A town where people can disagree passionately at two o’clock…

And be drinking tea together by four.

Looking at the photograph now, it’s the ordinary details that stand out.

The young faces sitting on the wall.

The spectators leaning over for a better look.

The shopfronts.

The traffic lights.

The river quietly flowing beneath it all as if none of it mattered.

The Clanrye has seen every argument come & go.

Every slogan fade.

Every generation convinced it was living through the most important moment in history.

And yet the river keeps flowing.

The bridge keeps standing.

And the Town Hall keeps watching.

Patiently waiting for the next crowd to gather.

Because if there’s one thing the old bridge outside Newry Town Hall has learned over the centuries…

It’s that Newryuns may not always agree on the solution.

But they’re never short of an opinion.

🤟🏼🌉

#1990

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Day Houdini Nearly Drowned in Newry not far from the town hall.. 🎩⚓🚢
Archive image from around that era..

Now here’s a wee mystery view from the archives that deserves a second look.

Most folk know that Harry Houdini escaped from handcuffs, chains, prison cells, milk cans, packing crates, locked trunks, police stations, & occasionally the laws of common sense itself. On stage at Newry town hall .

What most people don’t know is that Newry may have given him one of the hardest days of his career.

Back in January 1909, while riding the wave of international fame, Houdini arrived in Ulster as part of a run of performances linked to Belfast’s Hippodrome Theatre.

The “Handcuff King” was at the height of his powers.

Newspapers couldn’t get enough of him.

Crowds packed theatres.

Police forces challenged him.

Locksmiths challenged him.

Manufacturers challenged him.

Every man convinced his own lock was the one that would finally defeat him.

Spoiler alert…

It never did.

Then apparently Newry got involved.

And that changed things.

According to local tradition, a director from one of Newry’s shipyards issued a special challenge.

Now shipyard men are a different breed entirely.

If a locksmith builds a lock, he wants it opened.

If a magician builds suspense, he wants applause.

But a shipyard worker?

A shipyard worker spends his day trying to build things that don’t come apart.

The challenge reportedly involved a specially constructed chest made from timber destined for a rather ambitious new vessel under construction.

A wee boat called the RMS Titanic.

Perhaps you’ve heard of it.

Anyhow he arrived to Newry & held a show in Newry town hall ..
then walked to the Albert basin

Where him & The chest was secured.

Houdini was not placed inside.

The whole contraption was then lowered into the freezing waters of Newry’s Albert Basin.

At this point most sensible people would have reconsidered their career choices.

Houdini, however, climbed into the box willingly.

Because apparently being normal wasn’t part of the act.

Down he went.

The crowd waited.

Shipyard men folded their arms.

Nobody expected him to emerge quickly.

After all, each group of workers had apparently checked the restraints before handing the task over to the next group.

Then the next group checked them again.

And then another group checked them again because they didn’t trust the first two groups.

Which is about the most Newry thing imaginable.

Eventually…

Houdini appeared.

Alive.

Free.

Victorious.

Much to everyone’s annoyance.

Yet the remarkable part came afterwards.

According to later accounts, Houdini reportedly told his wife Bess that the Newry challenge had been among the toughest escapes of his career up to that point.

Not London.

Not Paris.

Not Berlin.

Not New York.

Newry.

Which means somewhere in the great history of magic there exists the possibility that a crowd of stubborn shipyard workers from the banks of the Clanrye nearly outwitted the world’s greatest escape artist.

Sadly, one detail remains elusive.

The exact date.

The surviving records confirm Houdini was here during January 1909, but the precise day remains hidden somewhere in the archives.

The answer likely sits patiently inside old editions of the Newry Reporter, Frontier Sentinel or Newry Telegraph.

Waiting.

Much like Houdini himself probably was.

Inside a wooden box.

At the bottom of Albert Basin.

Wondering why Newry folk were taking the job quite so seriously.

Until somebody uncovers that newspaper clipping, the mystery remains.

But one thing is certain.

Long before U2 got booed.

Long before Van Morrison sang.

Long before generations of actors, musicians, comedians, councillors & dreamers crossed the stage of Newry Town Hall…

The world’s most famous escape artist arrived in town.

And discovered that escaping from chains was easy.

Escaping from determined Newry shipyard workers was a whole different challenge altogether.

🎩🤟🏼

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Night Newry Town Hall Held Its Breath 🎭🎸🏛️

The old Town Hall has stood astride the Clanrye for well over a century now.

A grand red-brick sentinel planted right in the middle of Newry, listening to the river below while generations above laughed, argued, sang, danced, campaigned, performed, celebrated, mourned, & occasionally made complete eejits of themselves.

If buildings could talk…

This one would never stop.

One of its most famous stories happened on a damp February night in 1980.

Inside, a local punk band called Psycho had the place bouncing.

The crowd had come to see their own. Newry folk. Familiar faces. Familiar songs.

Conor Sweeney’s bass rattled the plasterwork while the audience responded exactly as local audiences always have when they like something…

By making enough noise to frighten the neighbours.

Backstage meanwhile stood four young Dubliner’s.

Nobody knew them.

Nobody particularly cared.

Their name was U2.

They’d been paid £400.

They walked on stage full of ambition.

Bono sang.

The Edge played.

The band launched into songs called I Will Follow & Out of Control.

The audience listened politely.

Then came that most feared sound in show business.

Not silence.

Worse.

Confusion.

Followed by a gentle ripple of booing.

The crowd simply didn’t know the songs.

Psycho eventually returned to finish the evening while the future world’s biggest band slipped back out into the Newry rain.

Forty-five years later the Town Hall still smiles at the memory.

The night Newry accidentally booed Bono.

But sure that’s only one chapter.

Because long before punk rock arrived, other people owned that stage.

Teachers.

Actors.

Musicians.

Dreamers.

Women whose names deserve remembered.

Back in 1950, Ethel Fitzpatrick stood watching the Newry Drama Festival while a young Cyril Cusack adjudicated proceedings.

She spent decades teaching children music, drama & confidence.

Hundreds passed through her hands.

Many never forgot her.

Meanwhile Nancie Murphy was dazzling audiences as Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion.

A founder of Newpoint Players.

A genuine local talent.

Eventually Los Angeles called.

But Newry still claimed her as one of its own.

Decades later another local performer would return home.

In April 2024 Calla Hughes stepped onto the Town Hall stage for her professional hometown debut.

One woman.

Twenty characters.

Ages ranging from childhood to old age.

The audience sat spellbound.

Then rose together in applause.

The old hall loves moments like that.

The sort of theatrical magic where reality & imagination shake hands.

The Town Hall has also welcomed home its wandering sons.

Peter Ballance learned his trade there before eventually appearing in Game of Thrones as Farlen, the kennel master of Winterfell.

Yet after television fame he returned to teach in Newry.

Passing on what others had once given him.

When he died in 2025 many felt the Town Hall had lost one of its own.

David Pearse travelled further still.

Hollywood.

Television.

International productions.

Yet every successful actor who leaves Newry carries a little bit of Newry with them.

Usually whether they want to or not.

Then there was Charlie Smyth.

For six decades Charlie entertained audiences.

Comedy.

Drama.

Pantomime.

Operetta.

Whatever the role required.

If the Town Hall had a resident spirit, many would argue Charlie earned the title.

Not every visitor came to perform.

Some came to govern.

Some came to argue.

Some came to make speeches that sounded wise at the time.

Back in 1921 Hugh John McConville pledged loyalty to Dáil Éireann from within the council chamber.

Months later the Northern Ireland government dissolved the council altogether.

Politics being politics.

One week you’re making history.

The next week someone else has changed the rules.

Town Clerk William Cronin quietly remained throughout it all.

Watching governments come & go while the Town Hall continued doing what it always did.

Standing.

Listening.

Waiting.

Even Sir James Craig arrived in 1927 for a civic luncheon.

Promising prosperity.

Promising peace.

Promising understanding.

As politicians have done since politicians were first invented.

Whether the old stones believed him remains open to debate.

Yet perhaps the finest nights were never political.

Andrew Black filled the hall with song.

The violinist Tivadar Nachéz brought audiences to tears.

Percy French made them laugh.

Van Morrison made them listen.

The 4 of Us made them sing along.

And somewhere beneath every performance lay the memory of all the others.

The choral societies.

The amateur dramatics.

The school concerts.

The Christmas shows.

The nervous teenager stepping onto a stage for the very first time.

The Town Hall remembers them all.

So if you stand outside some quiet evening beside the Clanrye, while the river slides beneath the arches & the clock looks down over the city…

Listen carefully.

You might hear Charlie Smyth’s laugh.

The applause for Calla Hughes.

The voice of Nancie Murphy.

The distant rumble of a punk crowd in 1980.

Or perhaps the faintest sound of all…

Four young Dubliner’s wondering what on earth just happened.

For every person who ever stepped onto that stage left something behind.

A joke.

A song.

A speech.

A dream.

And the old Town Hall keeps them all.

Waiting patiently for the next act.

Curtain. For now.

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Town Hall That Saw More History Than Most Governments 🤟🏼🏛️📜

NewryÜns Archive.. 1990’s pre banjo..

If buildings could talk…

Newry Town Hall would probably need its own podcast.

Built in 1893 directly over the waters of the Clanrye River, balanced between Counties Armagh & Down like a brick referee supervising centuries of Ulster arguments, agreements, elections, concerts, rows, dances, declarations, revolutions & the occasional sensible decision.

The thing about Newry Town Hall is that most people remember it for one event.

Usually U2.

Or Van Morrison.

Or a pantomime.

Or a school prize-giving.

But the truth is…

the old building has witnessed enough history to keep a dozen historians arguing until closing time.

Within months of opening, Mr Gilholy’s Choral Society filled the hall with Handel & Schubert.

Years later the great Irish baritone Andrew Black sang beneath its roof.

In 1906 the celebrated violin virtuoso Tivadar Nachez performed there.

Percy French passed through the district during the same era.

Then came generations of local musicians, singers, actors & performers who may never have become world famous but became legends in their own streets.

The Newry Musical Society.

The Newry R***e Society.

School drama groups.

Choirs.

Operettas.

Variety shows.

The whole lot.

The Town Hall stage carried them all.

Then there was politics.

And here’s where things become very Newry indeed.

In 1922 Newry Urban Council pledged allegiance to Dáil Éireann.

The Government of Northern Ireland responded by dissolving the council.

Problem solved.

Or perhaps not.

Because Newry being Newry, politics never stays solved for long.

A year later the council was restored.

By the mid-1920s the chamber contained perhaps the most Newry political arrangement imaginable.

Six Unionists.

Six Nationalists.

Six Labour councillors.

Eighteen councillors.

Three blocks.

Nobody in charge.

Everybody convinced they should be.

The result was one of the earliest examples of practical power-sharing in local government.

A Unionist chairman.

A Nationalist vice-chairman.

And eighteen councillors discovering the ancient Ulster art form known as compromise.

Then in 1927 along came Prime Minister James Craig, later Lord Craigavon, accompanied by Sir Dawson Bates.

They attended a civic luncheon in the Town Hall.

Speeches were made.

Hands were shaken.

Polite words exchanged.

And somewhere beneath the formalities the old hall quietly watched another chapter of Irish history unfold.

The remarkable thing is this:

The same building that hosted prime ministers also hosted children dressed as fairies.

The same stage that carried famous actors carried local school productions.

The same hall that heard debates about government later echoed to punk rock.

And eventually…

on a Leap Year Saturday in 1980…

four young Dublin lads called U2 turned up.

Which, as every Newry person knows, resulted in approximately four thousand eyewitnesses.

Then came The 4 of Us.

Then Van Morrison.

Then countless local performers.

All adding another layer to the story.

Perhaps that’s why the Town Hall matters.

It was never just a building.

It was Newry’s living room.

A place where politics met music.

Where local met international.

Where history met ordinary life.

Where councillors argued upstairs while somewhere else somebody practised a violin.

And all the while the Clanrye flowed quietly beneath it.

Watching governments come.

Watching governments go.

Watching famous people arrive unknown.

And occasionally watching unknown people become famous.

Not bad for a building sitting on a bridge.

📍 Newry Town Hall
📅 Opened 1893
🏛️ Built Above The Clanrye River

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Learner’s Guide to Newry
Town Hall
Lesson 14: How 150 People Become 4,000 🤟🏼🎸🏛️

NewryÜns Archive

There are certain miracles associated with Newry.

The miracle of finding a parking space.

The miracle of a Chinese curry arriving exactly when you’re starving.

The miracle of getting through Sugar Island in five minutes without accidentally joining three separate traffic queues.

The miracle of driving around Newry on a Saturday afternoon without questioning your life choices.

And then…

there is the greatest miracle of them all.

The miracle whereby the council granted a punk concert to be held in Newry Town Hall “Punk” a grand punch up 1980.. attended by perhaps fifty, one hundred or maybe one hundred & fifty souls somehow acquires over four thousand eyewitnesses forty years later.

The venue?

Newry Town Hall.
A punk concert venue..

That magnificent red-brick Victorian palace built in 1893 directly over the Clanrye River.

Quite literally straddling the historic boundary between County Armagh & County Down.

A building where councillors debated rates, merchants discussed trade, choirs sang, politicians argued, dancers danced, lovers met, children performed pantomimes & generations of Newry folk gathered beneath its roof.

Then came Leap Year Saturday.

29 February 1980.

A little-known Dublin band called U2 arrived to play upstairs.

At the time they weren’t global superstars.

They weren’t stadium fillers.

They weren’t selling out Croke Park.

They were simply four young lads with big ambitions, a van full of equipment & a booking in Newry.

Tickets reportedly cost £1.50.

The band reportedly earned £400.

Which probably seemed a fair deal until somebody explained that forty years later half the town would claim to have attended for free.

Accounts of the evening vary wildly.

Some say the crowd loved them.

Others say the audience spent most of the evening wondering who exactly these fellas were.

Then there are the local punk legends “Psycho”, who maintain the crowd became so puzzled by these unknown Dublin lads playing original material that U2 were practically booed off stage, forcing Psycho to return & rescue the evening.

Whether that’s historical fact or local folklore is a matter best debated over several pints & a packet of cheese & onion.

What fascinates me isn’t what happened that night.

It’s what happened afterwards.

Because Bono became Bono.

The Edge became The Edge.

The little Dublin band became one of the biggest musical acts on the planet.

Now here’s a thought.

Did those young musicians take anything from that night in Newry?

Standing on a stage above a Sacred river that has witnessed centuries of merchants, monks, soldiers, travellers & storytellers.

A hall built on a bridge.

A crowd of Newry folk watching every move.

Perhaps if the yarns are true & the reception was less than enthusiastic, those four young men stood on the stage .. · Bono (Paul David Hewson) – Lead vocals, guitar, harmonica
· The Edge (David Howell Evans) – Lead guitar, keyboards, backing vocals
· Adam Clayton – Bass guitar
· Larry Mullen Jr. – Drums, percuss at that moment they felt the Newry crowds reaction , felt like wee boys .. wouldn’t they all of been praying to god for success . All 4 Wishing u2 for world success with there music? . Faithfully Asking for help, sacred water flowing under their feet . Let the fans see .. . Soo afterwards .. from that event they left Newry determined to prove something , improve .. unaware that there prayers & wishes that evening had been answered & Boy what a gift .

After all…

only a few months later their debut album Boy arrived. Full of tunes perfected after Newry town hall ..

The beginning of a journey that would eventually take them around the world.

Truth be told, they were simply young men then.

Unknown.

Unproven.

Trying to make sense of the future.

Nobody in that hall knew what would follow.

Least of all the band.

Then suddenly…
They prayed together .. on stage

Newry discovered an astonishing concentration of eyewitnesses. Fans

Every estate had a dozen.

Every pub had six.

Every family gathering had an uncle who claimed he was standing six feet from the stage.

Some insist there were fifty people there.

Others remember one hundred.

Some swear it was packed.

Others recall empty spaces.

Yet somehow if you add together all the people who now claim attendance…

the audience would comfortably fill Páirc Esler, the Showgrounds, Newry Town Hall & half of Warrenpoint Promenade.

Personally, eye suspect the truth lies somewhere in between.

A modest crowd.

A young band.

A cold February evening.

Nobody present having the slightest clue they were watching future rock royalty.

Because that’s usually how history works.

The important moments rarely arrive carrying a sign that reads:

“Pay attention — you’ll still be talking about this in forty years.”

Yet here we are.

Still telling yarns.

Still arguing about the crowd size.

Still debating whether they were brilliant, booed or somewhere in between.

And all the while Newry Town Hall continues to stand above the Clanrye, quietly watching history flow beneath it…

much as it did on that Leap Year night when U2 came to town & accidentally created four thousand eyewitnesses.

Now here’s the final lesson in the Learner’s Guide to Newry…

If the Town Hall reopens in a few years’ time after restoration…
Is it a leap year ?
perhaps somebody should send Bono Larry The Edge & Adam .. a wee invitation along with local punks “Psycho” to play at the Newry town hall .. .either Tuesday 29th February 2028 or sunday 29th February 2032 we could offer them the same fee..

Imagine that. A leap year gig !

Forty-five years after playing to fifty, one hundred or maybe one hundred & fifty Newry folk…

U2 returning to officially reopen the hall.

And if it happened? How many could we expect to go..

By the following week there’d probably be twelve thousand people claiming they were there.

📍 Newry Town Hall
📅 29 February 1980
🎸 U2 — Before the World Knew Their Name

06/06/2026

Wee Yarn — The Day Eye Tried To Fit the wild boys or 80 local Children Into A board Room Built For 20 🤟🏼📸🎭
& almost succeeded.
NewryÜns Archive — . but what exact years ??

There are photographs… that are timeless .. like this ..
where there is very little to help date the image .
I’ll share a few clues .. it has electric lights & one or two & a few of the kids are wearing glasses ? The portraits in background .. they are no help .. .
Or the The children are dressed in period costumes representing characters from Ulster’s, Ireland’s past. Peasants. Villagers. Monks. Warriors. Merchants. Farmers. Maidens. Storytellers. Ordinary folk whose descendants eventually became the families of modern Newry. Spanning across forgotten centuries.. a lot of wild boys ..

Then there are timeless photographs that age you by ten if not a thousand years while you’re taking them.

This was one of those.
Yet a timeless unique view that will never be copied .. 30 years later it still make me sweat..

See as a clue as to what .. .. The image was captured not upstairs in Newry Town Hall on stage . but during one of the annual shows . The hall upstairs was packed to the rafters that evening. Every seat occupied. Parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunties, uncles & probably half of Newry squeezed in to watch the community show.

My assignment seemed simple enough.

Get a few photographs.

Not on stage mind you.

Back then photographers arriving with noisy shutter flashguns blazing during a live performance were looked upon with roughly the same affection as a fella arriving at Mass with a chainsaw.

So eye went exploring backstage.

Now remember…

This was early 1995.

Eye was still learning the trade & often possessed far more confidence than actual knowledge.

Soo eye asked one of the backstage crew if it might be possible to borrow the chorus line for a quick photograph between acts.

“How many?” eye asked.

“Oh, not too many.” “ as many as 🤟🏼 can spare “

Those words would shortly return to haunt me.

They agreed.

Ten minutes. Till the end of the act .

That was all the time available before the youngsters were needed to be back on stage.or back stage ..

Soo eye headed downstairs to the old Urban Council boardroom. To get set up

A magnificent old chamber.

The sort of room where generations of councillors had debated roads, rates, sewers, parks, budgets, elections, complaints, arguments & every other matter affecting the people of Newry.

A room built to comfortably seat perhaps twenty councillors around a table already approaching a century old.

Perfect, eye thought. A dozen kids ..

Plenty of room.

What could possibly go wrong?

The answer arrived a few minutes later.

The door opened.

One child entered.

Then another.

Then another.

Five…

Ten…

Fifteen…

Twenty…

Thirty…

Forty…

Sixty…

Seventy…

Seventy-four…

And they were still coming.

Sweet Mother of Divine Providence. & the clock was ticking . Less than 2
Minutes

At that precise moment eye realised the phrase “chorus line” apparently meant every child currently involved in the production.

The boardroom rapidly transformed into organised chaos.

Children sitting on the ancient council table.

Children kneeling sitting on the old table.

Children standing behind chairs.

Children standing on old chairs.

Children squeezed into corners.

Children appearing from directions that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

I’d no permission to even be in the boardroom.
Meanwhile eye was being steadily pushed backwards until my shoulders were touching the opposite back wall. Camera set to wide angle

There was literally nowhere else to go.

Looking at the image today, what makes me laugh is what 🤟🏼 can’t see . that those beautiful old council chairs were probably over a hundred years old even then.

The table itself had witnessed generations of local government.

Yet for 6 glorious minutes it became a climbing frame for eighty excited youngsters dressed as warriors, villagers, saints, peasants, nobles & every other character Ulster imaginable. A true pantomime
& upstairs the principals sang & acted on the main stage .. Sharing there hearts out I’m pantomime style..

Health & Safety, by modern standards, would probably require counselling after viewing the photograph.
Historians as well..
But somehow it worked.

Nobody fell.

Nobody broke a chair.

Nobody disappeared beneath the table.

And for a brief moment the old boardroom held more life, laughter & noise than perhaps at any point in its history.

Then the photograph was taken.

The flash fired.

The children smiled & vanished as quick as they appeared ..

And within minutes they were all back on stage as if nothing had happened.

Leaving behind only this image…

And one slightly stressed young photographer wiping sweat of his brow standing alone in a council chamber wondering how in the name of all that’s holy he had managed to fit eighty children into a room designed for twenty councillors.
As for who the children where or if they even recall the boardroom drama .. god knows..

But …….

An extra extra.Wee Yarn — The Boardroom, The Banners & Eighty Young Ulstermen & Ulster Women 🎭☘️🤟🏼

NewryÜns Archive — 1995

The more eye study this photograph, the less it becomes a picture of children…

& the more it becomes a picture of Ulster itself.

At first glance you simply see eighty excited youngsters squeezed into an old council boardroom like sardines in a tin.

Look a little closer however…

& the room begins to tell its own story.

The children are dressed in period costumes representing characters from Ulster’s, Ireland’s past. Peasants. Villagers. Monks. Warriors. Merchants. Farmers. Maidens. Storytellers. Ordinary folk whose descendants eventually became the families of modern Newry.

What strikes me is that there is nothing particularly foreign about any of it.

The costumes are rooted in Ulster Irish life.
Not a pantomime..
More specifically they are rooted in Newry Ulster life.

Actually The sort of clothing our own ancestors may have worn in one form or another before railways, factories, electricity or television arrived.

Then your eye drifts upwards.

Behind the children hang two banners.

One bears the ancient Harp of Ireland upon a green field.

The other carries the famous Red Hand of Ulster.

Today people occasionally try to place these symbols into neat little boxes.

History is rarely that tidy.

The Harp belongs to the whole island.

The Red Hand belongs to Ulster.

Long before modern politics arrived, the Red Hand was associated with the great O’Neill dynasty who once ruled large parts of Ulster from their strongholds across Tyrone, Armagh & beyond.

For centuries it represented Gaelic Ulster. Pre English rule

Today it appears everywhere from county crests to sports clubs, civic organisations, community groups & institutions from every tradition.

The remarkable thing is that both symbols hang side by side.

Not competing.

Not arguing.

Simply sharing the same wall.

Much like generations of Ulster people have shared the same province.

Below them sits another symbol.

The old boardroom table.

Perhaps over a century old even when this photograph was taken.

A table where councillors debated roads, housing, rates, employment, public health & the future direction of Newry.

On this particular evening however…

its role changed dramatically.

Instead of politicians…

it supported eighty children.

Instead of budgets…

it carried shields, costumes, flowers, swords, cloaks & laughter.

Instead of arguments…

it echoed with excitement.

And perhaps that is what makes this image special.

Without intending to do so, it captures something older than politics.

The Harp.

The Red Hand.

The old council chamber.
The old town hall .. built on a granite bridge not foundations .
Built On a bridge over the Clanrye river..
the old , the a Clanrye river that marks the border between two countries as it flows across Newry city .. Armagh & down .
a border stretch of water that was commonly known as “no man’s land “ in olden times ..
see the River itself was sacred . “Clanrye “ the use of the “cl” sound in the naming of a freshwater river was the highest known phonetic sound that the Druids & elders could hear to express the sacred waters importance to their rituals. Presumably pre Christian yet as holy as f**k .. respectfully . . ..
anyhow
The children.

All gathered together in a single frame.
Are literally standing on a bridge over a river on land Called no man’s land . .
As a river flows underneath there feet
A small snapshot of Ulster itself.

Complicated.

Colourful.

Occasionally overcrowded.

Usually noisy.

But ultimately sharing the same room.

Just as it always has.

📸 Newry Town Hall Boardroom
📅 1995
🎭 Pantomime Cast Photograph

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