It was my habit when I had some spare time on my hands at nights to wander around the town listening to the various people who played or sang in the streets. I don’t know that I did so with any definite idea in my mind. Simply it gave me pleasure, and it was a form of entertainment that cost me nothing. In those days street musicians were regular visitors. They had their own stances and their regular audiences.
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A violinist named Kirk, who played at the corner of Hutcheson Street and Trongate, was my special favourite, and as his skill was much above the average he never …
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It was my habit when I had some spare time on my hands at nights to wander around the town listening to the various people who played or sang in the streets. I don’t know that I did so with any definite idea in my mind. Simply it gave me pleasure, and it was a form of entertainment that cost me nothing. In those days street musicians were regular visitors. They had their own stances and their regular audiences.
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A violinist named Kirk, who played at the corner of Hutcheson Street and Trongate, was my special favourite, and as his skill was much above the average he never failed to draw a good crowd, who gave freely to the young daughter who collected for him.
One night, when I happened to be amongst the listening crowd, this lass broke away from the usual order of things, and instead of merely collecting coppers, sang, “ Gloomy Winter’s Noo Awa’,” to the accompaniment of her father. Helen, which was the girl’s name, possessed a full, rich contralto voice, and so beautifully did she render the song that I and many others in the crowd were deeply affected. I left the spot, indeed, strangely impressed and subdued.
Boyishly, I would have forgotten all about the song and the singer if I could. But both haunted me for days and nights on end, and at last I could not refrain from telling the president of the Abstainers’ Union, at their Tea Concert a few days later, all about the wonderful singing of pretty Helen Kirk.
My enthusiasm must have impressed the president, a Mr. M‘Neil, for three nights later behold me, a little urchin, leading down to the corner of Hutcheson Street four important Union men....
The Kirks were in full swing when we arrived. We stood and listened. Then the four principals of the Abstainers’ Union conferred, nodded their heads, and we all made our way home again.
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Four weeks later Helen Kirk came to the monthly Tea Concert of the Union and sang, “ Gloomy Winter’s Noo Awa’,” and, as an encore, “ Willie’s gane tae Melville Castle.” It was a very proud night for me. The Abstainers’ directors were so fascinated by her voice that they at once arranged to give her daily tuition in music and voice production from Mr. H. A. Lambeth, the city organist, and a pioneer in choral singing. This training was continued for two years. Then, at a certain Saturday night concert of the Abstainers’ Union, Helen made her professional debut.
It was a great night. Her singing of “ Gloomy Winter’s Noo Awa ” on that occasion created extraordinary enthusiasm Then she sang “ Home Sweet Home ” as an encore, and the audience went crazy with delight. The poor street singer was hailed as the greatest Scottish contralto of the day, and from that hour she passed from one great triumph to another.
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