When Val was still
young, one of his sisters contracted TB, forcing her to move into their
parents’ room, and Val’s father to move into a shed at the end of
the garden. This
eccentric arrangement continued until Val was fourteen, when his father
died, but it enabled him to spend a great deal of ‘quality time’ with
his dad. Many of Val’s favourite moments arose
from long country walks with his father, who would walk down the road,
book in hand whilst the young Val foraged in the hedgerows, occasionally
returning to his father’s side in order to take a sweet from his
pocket. Val's father always walked in the middle of the road
because he believed that he would not be run-down while so doing, as the
car-drivers would be sure to see him.
The pair would pick watercress to
make sandwiches and they would boil-up baby potatoes, making the most delicious
meals Val had tasted. Val tells a great lesson that he learned
from his father. Apparently Val wanted to go the cinema with his
pals but his father refused him the money. Val sulked all day
until his father asked him to go for a walk with him. Still
sulking, Val joined his father and they had gone a short distance out
the Passage Road when they spotted a farmer leaning on a gate. They saluted the man and continued their walk. Then Val's father
asked Val if he knew the man. Val replied that he did not,
whereupon Mr. Doonican said, "We are only a short distance from
home. That man thinks he is the centre of the world, and yet
you don't know who he is!" Val quickly realised that he had
been thinking only of himself and was feeling sorry for himself over a
trivial hurt. It was a lesson that he never forgot. However, there were also darker times
- waiting for
his father to leave the pub, barely able to stand and having lavished
most of his weekly wage packet on alcohol. In fact, despite working in
many bars and nightclubs, Val remained virtually teetotal until middle
age.
When Val was fourteen, his
world was shattered by his father’s death from cancer of the throat
and mouth. Val felt unable to attend the funeral, and shortly afterwards
felt compelled to leave school in order to help support the family. He
had been a reasonable scholar, but left without qualifications and had
to take a job assembling crates at Graves' Timber yard where his
father and older brothers had worked – something which he says would
almost certainly have disappointed his father greatly.
However, Val had been writing
and arranging music from a very young age, harmonising his friends’
versions of the songs they saw performed on film by the likes of Gene
Autry. His first
‘professional’ engagement came with his friend Mickey Brennan at the Ballybricken Carnival, an annual affair organised to raise funds to
build the Holy Family Church – singing ‘We’re Three Caballeros!’ Almost
inevitably, it would now seem, Val met up with another musician, Bruce
Clarke, and left Graves' to tour Ireland in a caravan with Bruce. Val, though, was earning his keep by playing house-keeper.
Eventually, Val joined a band,
this time as drummer, despite never having played drums before! He
stayed with the band for six months, despite being sacked for blowing
his nose during a set and reinstated almost instantly because no-one
else owned any drum sticks. From the drums, Val found a job – again
with Bruce Clarke – playing guitar and performing general duties on
the seafront in Bray, County Wicklow. It was here that he and Bruce were
spotted and, with a
bass player, they were given work on Radio Eireann, advertising Donnelly’s
Sausages to the tune of the Mexican Hat Dance… a plug that he is still
singing to this day!
In 1951, still touring Ireland
with Bruce Clarke’s band, Val was approached by representatives of the
Four Ramblers and invited to join them in England, where they are best
remembered for ‘Riders of the Range’ on BBC Radio. They also
presented Workers’ Playtime, their salaries augmented by gifts from
the factories whence the broadcast was being made. Looking forward to
his first free products, Val found that his 'Playtime' debut was in a
corset factory!
His time with the Four Ramblers
introduced Val to the joys of golf, honed his professional singing
skills and arrangements, and led to the tour that was to revolutionise
his life…
Val had bought himself an
amplifier for his guitar, into which had gone most of his savings. Making a case to protect the amplifier, he used an old theatre poster
advertising one Lynnette Rae (at the time more famous than Val) who was
re-building her career after an operation for throat cancer (ironically,
the disease that had killed his father). Having used her as his amp’s
guardian angel, Val finally met Lynnette when both she and the Ramblers
supported the late Anthony Newley on tour. For the first time in his
life, Val fell in love. He and Lynn have now been married for more than
thirty seven years, and are the parents to two grown-up daughters, Sarah
and Fiona.
Whilst on that particular tour,
Anthony Newley held a birthday party where all the acts had to perform, but not in their
usual roles. Thus, singers did impressions and comedy turns, with Lynn
regaling the audience as an impressionist. The Four Ramblers did
not have another ‘turn’ and Val stepped forward, guitar in hand, and
perched on a stool and singing a couple of ballads and ‘Paddy McGinty’s Goat.’ At the end of his performance, Anthony Newley
suggested that his solo spot was more commercially marketable than the
Ramblers act and urged Val to ‘go solo’. Thus, he left the group and
started a more lonely professional life as Val Doonican – solo
singer.
Val secured a radio programme
on Wednesdays with the BBC ‘Light Programme’ – the precursor to
Radio 2. This led to him linking his own
material at a time when regional accents were almost unknown at the BBC. However, Val’s surname was still not known to his listeners - the
powers that be in Broadcasting House having decided that the general
public would never remember a complicated surname like Doonican!
Val continued to play cabaret
and occasional theatre gigs but despite being a regular radio
personality, no recording contracts were forthcoming for him. He was
spotted at a concert by Val Parnell, who at that time arranged the acts
for ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’, booked onto the show and
performed an eight minute spot that, he says, changed his life. By the
Monday, there were recording contracts and TV show offers flooding his
manager’s office. Truly, as Val has said many times, he
was 'an overnight success after seventeen years.'
Val has gone on to record over
fifty albums, sales of which register in the millions, and he has fans
all over the world. He charted many times with both singles and albums,
appearing on ‘Top of the Pops’ to sing hits such as ‘Walk Tall‘,
‘The Special Years‘, ‘What Would I Be’, and ‘Elusive
Butterfly’. His TV shows ran for twenty four years, from humble
beginnings opposite ‘Coronation Street’ on Thursday nights, which he
says enabled him to iron out the mistakes without the pressure of a
large audience, to being the mainstay of the Saturday night TV schedules
for many years. Val’s Christmas Eve shows became a national
institution in Britain and are fondly remembered even by those who would not
consider themselves to be fans.
These days Val still tours but
he is fortunate enough to be able to pick and choose his concerts. He
does not undertake television work as the market for the lavish music
shows no longer exists and, as he says, how could he top the marvellous
time he had doing what he loved musically: Val presenting a game show
would not have the same appeal to him.
Val is now a grandfather of
two, and the father of a successful novelist, his elder daughter Sarah
having scored some success in that field. He divides his time between
his homes in Buckinghamshire and Spain, and is enjoying the fruits of
his years of work. He visits his native city regularly where his
brothers and sisters still live and he has never been found wanting
whenever he has been asked to attend functions in the city - especially
charity functions. He is, truly, a Waterford legend. |