Concerts & Festivals

Irish Books, Arts and Music Festival (iBAM) 2024

By Mary Behan

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Saturday 16 November 2024

It’s years since I’ve been to live concert. There was Covid, of course. But even before, and indeed after, Tim’s hearing made me wonder if he wouldn’t prefer listening to the CD at home. We’re not yet attuned to streaming. (What an interesting pairing of verbs!) 

Last night as the opening to iBAM, the Irish Books, Arts and Music Festival in Chicago, an annual event in a 100-year-old re-purposed high school, we went to see Altan.

Altan is one of the iconic traditional Irish music groups, almost akin to The Chieftains, but better known in Ireland than abroad. Still, I was surprised to hear a Quebecois accent in the seat behind me, and indeed, the couple, from Montreal, had come to Chicago for the weekend to hear the concert as, the female added, “I missed them when they were in New Hampshire”.

We got to the school an hour early and I wandered throughout, checking what might be in store for me today when we go back, and I sell books all afternoon as well as participating in an “Author chat”. It’s a huge rambling building with lots of wide echoing hallways, now adorned with all things Irish. The auditorium is beautiful, easily seating 650, and with ornate decorations above the stage; it even has a balcony on three sides, a bit like in a church. No organ though. Still, it didn’t need it. The place was packed. Altan was electrifying! The lead/instigator/owner, Maireid Ni Maoineagh, did fiddle and vocals. There was a bouzouki player, another fiddle, guitar, and for the last two numbers and the encore they were joined by a bodhran player. For the first time ever, I came to appreciate a great accordion player. 

The audience filed in slowly, many of them spying a familiar face and lighting up as they saw their friends. It reminded me a little of the old days when I’d be getting the Aer Lingus flight to Dublin at O’Hare. You could always recognize the Irish in the throng: lean and fat (nothing in between), dressed with little or no fashion consciousness, a little hunted-looking (and maybe they were, ‘cos many of them were illegals), bad hair dyes, and features that would never grace a magazine cover. They were all there last night, mostly older although I saw little kids earlier playing in the huge space across from the pub that must have once been the cafeteria. The pub looked like it does a lively trade throughout the week. 

I felt at home amongst these people, as if I could have started a conversation with any one of them and spent the next several hours finding out all about their life. My bona fides would be a given with my accent, even before I’d explain what I was doing there. And we’d eventually find out we were related or knew someone in common.

Sure enough, I asked the solitary bald guy beside me why he was here for the concert. He didn’t look like an Altan groupie! He was American, late thirties, in advertising I learned later from Tim whom I’d abandoned at half time to go and get a glass of wine. (Of course, there was a bar directly outside the theatre that had glasses of Guinness poured and lined up before the break). The guy said he has always liked Altan, ever since he heard them in the 80s and 90s. And as they don’t tour in the USA that often, he took advantage of this event. He lives somewhere in Illinois. On hearing we were from Madison, he said he would be going to a small place in Wisconsin for a nephew’s birthday party the next day. Wouldn’t you know, it was Waunakee! I told him that the artist who painted the covers of both my novels comes from Waunakee, and that if he asked his family members, likely they would know her — Gina Hecht. That’s the way it is with random encounters like this, making me believe in karma or some such thing.

You know it’s a great concert when, at the end, everyone is on their feet (with the exception of the lame and crippled, and there were a few of those too), hooting and hollering and yelping and clapping. The line to buy a CD was endless so we left. I’ll get one today I hope, and if not, I’ll order it from the wee shop at the Irish American Heritage Center which has every left-behind Irish treat (Crunchy bars, Branston pickles, Chivers marmalade, Barrys tea…).

I said hello to Cliff Carlson, the driver behind this whole iBAM annual event and the editor in chief of the Irish American News (who put me on the cover last month!). He was too busy hosting the new Irish Consul and other bigwigs to chat, but I’ll see him at the Gala dinner this evening. Then I met Lois and Bob. 

Of course there’s a story! At Milwaukee Irish Fest three years ago, there were 6 people selling Irish-themed books at the Literary Corner, including me. I met all of them, including Lois Farley-Shuford and her husband, Bob. Lovely, lovely people. We exchanged books (a common thing at these events), but I didn’t get around to reading hers for a couple of years. When I did, I really enjoyed it – a beautifully written and thoughtful story of tracing Irish relatives during many trips to Ireland. I wrote to her and told her how much I enjoyed her book. As it happened, she and her husband’s trip to Ireland last May overlapped with mine, and as they were staying in my hometown for 2 nights before they flew out of Dublin (cheap and convenient), I invited them to dinner at a local restaurant. We had such a lovely time! Lois told me about iBAM, that I should try to get in and sell my books there, and that’s how it came about that I’m here now! 

Twenty-four hours later November 17

I feel I have lived a lifetime and shared stories with a million strangers as well as a few friends. And it was all wonderful!

Fortunately, I don’t have to “set-up” my table until noon when the doors of the Irish American Heritage Center (IAHC) open for the afternoon. It’s a 20-minute drive from where we are staying, and it’s Sunday so that’s easy. Plus, it’s a balmy 60 degrees — glorious for mid-November. 

There were about 8 authors yesterday, some of whom will return today as well as a few newcomers. I dutifully laid out my table and sat behind it with Tim for the first quiet hour or so. The volunteers who essentially run the IAHC and iBAM were so friendly. Everyone is friendly in this place! As well as books, there are movies and lectures and classes in Irish and all sorts of other goings-on, plus live music in the pub all day and a gift shop, so there’s lots for people to do. Still, I sold about 10 books. One woman bought all of her Christmas presents, it seems! The Irish Consulate had a table close to mine, so I chatted to them for a while. The Consul came by and introduced himself, a really nice guy from Cork. Later he came to the “chat” I did, and even bought a book!

Tim wandered off a couple of times – there was a book sale upstairs at the library, and he came back with a treasure. He also bought a glorious photography book if Door County, Wisconsin from the guy at the table beside us. I chatted to various other writers…it’s what you do and they don’t necessarily expect you to buy their book. It’s a lovely environment. 

Then I saw a familiar face, a Professor at the University of Chicago who did her PhD at UW-Madison and who I knew while she was in the neuroscience program there — Erin Hanlon. She saw the post I put on Facebook about the event, and she’s half Irish in any case. She brought a niece and nephew too. Soon afterwards the wife of one of my old rock-climber friends, Rona Milarsky came by with her daughter, Rachel. They’ve stayed at my place in Mazomanie many, many times, and Rona has read all my books. Then another old friend from Madison neuroscience days arrived. Kate Kalil was a Professor at UW-Madison. She’s now living in Chicago and she came along with her daughter Ariel who I used to babysit ~1978. And finally, my second cousin, Ned King, who lives in Chicago turned up! So, for the 45 minute “chat” I hosted, I was surrounded by familiar faces. And it was a great chat – thoroughly informal, a semicircle of chairs around me as I sat comfortably in a big red armchair.

We went for a drink in the pub with Ned before changing into our glad rags and going upstairs to the fourth floor for the Gala dinner. Needless to say, Ned knew a few people in the pub as he lives barely 10 minutes away from the IAHC and has worked in construction locally for almost 30 years with a mostly Irish crew.

The Gala event was a blast. I expect it’s modeled on any award ceremony, like the Oscars and such, ‘cos people dress up (many in black tie) and your location in the huge ballroom (used for wedding receptions mostly) is indicative of your status. We were seated at a great table – very close to the front, #5. Round tables, ten people, open bar, bottles of wine on the table, a take-home gift of brown currant scones(!), and a very good meal of meat (pork), veg and roast potatoes with gravy. We could have easily been at a big country wedding in Ireland for there must have been 250 or more people in attendance. Everyone at the table was lovely, chatty, interesting, and all enthusiastically applauding the various awardees (for Books, Movies, Music, Volunteerism, etc.). 

I got a chance to chat with Dathai Sproule, one of the band members who is legendary in traditional Irish music circles. I wanted to ask him if he knew an old friend of mine, Seoirse O’Dochartaigh, a musician and historian from Country Donegal. He did indeed remember “Doc” from the old days (1960s when Dathai played in the band, Scara Brae in Ireland). I even got a chance to tell the accordion player that he was magical. It was that kind of evening.

And I belted out the National Anthem in Irish! The guy leading it had all the right words, but strangely enough, he did the warbly bit a lot more when he sang the Star-Spangled Banner!

I fell into bed afterwards, dead to the world.

18 November.

What do Irish people and anyone with Irish connections do when they gather? Talk. That was yesterday. Mind you, besides being exhausting, it was great fun. Tim had planned to do an architectural driving tour of Oak Park in Chicago that day, so it was a surprise when he said he’d rather sit with me at my table. And he did, from 12 to 4:30 pm. There were lots of gaps in the afternoon when nobody was wandering by, so we chatted to our book-selling neighbors. You always get such a great, supportive vibe. It’s not as if any of us is writing the same book, so we’re not in competition, and people generally stop at a table when they see something that interests them. The Door County photography had a large, framed photograph from his book, Behind The Door, propped up on his table. Someone bought it from him even though he hadn’t planned to sell it! You always get tips from other writers too and give and accept suggestions and encouragement.

My cousin Ned came back, this time carrying 5 copies of the October issue of the Irish American News where I am on the cover. There’s a shop near his house that sells Irish stuff, and he dropped in early on Sunday afternoon to see if they had any copies left because there were none at the IAHC. I very proudly propped a copy up on my table.

I got a chance to check out the library — filled with wonderful stuff, and the small museum they have there. I could have gone to an Irish dancing class, or listened to a one act play, or listened to a reading of another play… lots of stuff going on all afternoon, with TV cameras from a local Chicago station. (They weren’t interested in the book sellers). 

Everyone who buys a book from you has a bit of a chat. They were mostly middle-aged and older women. One woman told me of emigrating in the late 50’s, the eldest of 10, and with a lot less education than I had as they were 10 miles from the nearest school in the wilds of Connemara. Everyone had stories, and of course, I did too. I would tell them How I came to write Abbey Girls with my sister, and then describe the other three books. Sometimes people didn’t buy, but thanked me nonetheless. 

When it was clear that things were slowing down, we packed up and drove back to the hotel. My cousin Ned joined us for dinner at the restaurant beside the hotel, Harry Caray’s, an Italian Steakhouse that has been in Rosemont for donkey’s years. We’ve eaten in it many times as we’ve stayed at that hotel dozens of times over the years flying in or out of O’Hare. The food is good. There’s a big conference in Chicago for the next couple of days — something to do with International Brands, and the dining room and bar were packed to the gills. Still, we found a table in the bar, the service was great, and they even turned down the volume of the TV when I requested it, as Tim and Ned are both hard of hearing.

It was a brilliant weekend and to top it off, I sold 21 books!
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