Martinez, California (where I live) is unusual in a number of ways. One of those ways is, we had a town crier just a few years ago. His name was Redmond O’Colonies, and he was a real character. He was not from Martinez – he was a brit. A teller of stories, a singer of amusing (and occasionally bawdy) songs, a master of self-promotion – and the town crier. He even had a special town crier suit, a little like what the guys in the old pop band Paul Revere and the Raiders wore.
Another thing that I think is unusual about Martinez is we have a very active and tight bunch of musicians. There are a lot of places to play music in the town, and there are a lot of bands and performers to play those venues. A lot of us are in more than one band, and we frequently fill in each other’s bands when needed. We congregate at a few favorite watering holes, and we talk shop and shoot the breeze.
We have a variety of musical skills, styles, goals and temperaments represented in this musical community, but we bump each other all the time. We kvetch, compare notes, suggest songs for each other, and gossip like any small town quilting bee or barber shop. We all benefit from knowing each other, in a variety of ways. We support each other, by encouraging each other, recommending each other for gigs, and more than once, we’ve mounted shows to raise money for one of our own.
Our community took a horrific hit this week when Redmond O’Colonies died suddenly. Redmond was one of us, and we all have, at one time or another bumped into him at some local bar, and he said “Hey, have you heard this one?” He was a master storyteller – jokes you already knew became new a surprising when he told them.
He was about 7 years older than I but looked great (better than me, that’s for sure!). I asked how he stays so healthy. “ZincMag”, he replied promptly. I had to take him seriously – he never seemed tired, or sore or sick. He always seemed up for a wee pint, a good joke and the attention of people around him (especially the opposite sex). I made a mental note to pick up those Zinc/Magnesium pills.
The stories I’m hearing now, after his passing, reveal a remarkable man that seemed to live for fun and the enjoyment of performing and being in the company of people. His voice and accent were distinctive – you always knew when he was in room, and inevitably you’d march over and see what ribald nonsense he was regaling everyone with.
I knew very little about the man and his past. I first saw him perform 15 or 20 years ago, and he was unforgettable, so the next time I crossed paths with him, he was already a welcome and familiar presence.
Apparently, it was a stroke that took his life suddenly, out of the blue. Whether he had a pre-existing condition, I don’t know – our relationship was based upon our mutual membership in the local musician community, and our interactions never got any more serious than the Zinc/Magnesium pills.
I don’t know if I’m going to get those pills now. I know Redmond O’Colonies’ passing leaves a big hole in our community. Who will cry for the town crier? I’m going to miss that colorful character.
