TODAY is Candy Devine's 44th wedding anniversary. Sadly, although surrounded by friends, her husband Don won't be with her. He died last year, a larger-than-life impresario who managed the Abercorn Cabaret during the early days of The Troubles, a man who kept our night life going as best he could by bringing artists from around the world to Belfast. One was to change his life, and ours too, Australian-born cabaret singer Candy Devine. Don became her manager and then her husband; to him she was his beloved Fay, the only one allowed to call her by her birth name. She called him Donald - to the rest of us he was Don. They were special. When friends talked of them it was always Candy and Don as they were a couple first and foremost - professionals in the world of entertainment came after that.
Since Don's death, Candy's family back home in Brisbane have become even more of a focal point and some months ago she decided it was time to join them and be there as her grandchildren grow up.
It's tough because, for the past 45 years she's become one of us, a lady who once was turned away from lodgings because of the colour of her skin, who this year almost stopped a Twelfth of July band in it's tracks in Lisburn as members broke ranks to say hello. She has been a mentor and a confidante to listeners on her Downtown radio shows, she has raised more money for charity than the rest of us put together - generous to a fault, often exhausted after a day's broadcasting yet always willing to support an event, looking splendid in one of her spectacular kaftans. And on top of all this, my determined hero has lost five stone in recent months. "I met Don when I first came to Northern Ireland and apparently he said I had a lovely face but wasn't so complimentary about my figure," she says. "The problem is he loved me despite the weight so I blame him - if he hadn't, I'd have done something about it. And kaftans are part of the trouble: too easy to wear." You can appreciate that people tell her: 'If you loose weight you wouldn't be our Candy' but she has proved them wrong. Her husky voice is immediately recognisable - might it have had something to do with a secret vice? I remember how she'd sneak a cigarette in Ulster Television when she was in make-up and Don was in the studio talking to the boys. "I've been back on cigarettes for months," she'd whisper, "but he doesn't know." There have been parties and dinners, coffees and lunches all to say a long goodbye to this special woman. On Sunday October 6 in La Mon House there's another, this time open to the public to wish her bon voyage. One of the best parties was last month at the home of Betty Scott in Holywood. The two go back a long way, as Betty explained: "I was organising a fundraising event at the Chimney Corner and Alf, my husband, said, 'I've met the most beautiful girl singer from Australia and she's willing to do a cabaret for you.' That was the start of a long friendship and that generosity is typical of Candy. "As chairman of the Ladies Taverner's charity I invited her to become our president - she didn't hesitate. I'll miss her dreadfully but I know she'll be back to visit; there's always room in my house, a most welcome guest and a wonderful friend." At the party was singer comedian John Cooke. "In the sixties Belfast was a swinging place, plenty of work. Those were the days before the Troubles when Belfast was alive with entertainment," John says. "I worked in Short Brothers assembling aircraft by day and entertained at night - The Abercorn in Corn Market, Piccadilly Line in York Street, Intercontinental in Royal Avenue, Club Orchid Castle Street and Tito's where Candy Devine was the first compere and this gorgeous Australian diva was immediately a star." There followed theatre work north and south. Roy Heayberd remembers casting her as Caiaphas the high priest in Jesus Christ Superstar at the Arts Theatre.
"She'd hurt her foot and was on a stick and needed support so we dressed her young son Ian and put him into the show as her slave." She had television shows on RTE and appearances on Ulster Television's White Line with pianist Billy White. But ask Candy her abiding memory and she doesn't need to think twice. It's not appearing in the film Skippy the Bush Kangaroo, it's not even her ground-breaking programmes on Downtown Radio but her appearance at Sydney Opera House when she stood alone on the stage and sang Danny Boy. Trixi Hamilton sang and played at the Holywood party, Trevor Kelly and George Jones vied for the spotlight - all old friends who are going to miss her so much. Even as they were jamming away round the barbecue, as twilight fell we were all in harmony in more ways than one, the banter, the laughter, everyone remembering some little happening worth mentioning. Sue Phillips and composer and musician Mark Dougherty threw their talents into the mix - jazz and blues and songs from the shows. Those of us who couldn't sing talked and remembered the happy times when there was cabaret and close dancing, alcohol was for the artists rather than the audience and mobile phones didn't exist. Every day it's getting harder for Candy to face leaving but it's a bitter-sweet situation. She is going to the family she loves and the country that is home; there are gigs lined up already and we'll either go and visit her or wait for her to visit us. Remember Candy, you have to go away to come back. Love you.
Bon Voyage Ball www.releventsni.co.uk.