The funeral Mass for Joe Dolan, the 68-year-old singer and Mullingar's best-loved son who died on St Stephen's Day, was due to start at 11am. By 10am, outside the 2,200 seater Cathedral of Christ the King, a steward was telling late arrivals, aptly, that it was "a full house".
Inside, mourners climbed the steps to the altar rails to touch the lily-bedecked coffin and say a prayer. Some even posed for a picture up there. No disrespect was intended.
The women and men who hit the road at dawn under apocalyptic, post-Christmas skies knew that Joe - and God - would understand. Theirs was an entirely uncomplicated relationship. Through nearly 50 years, they had grown up with him, danced and courted their young spouses under his exuberant, mischievous gaze. They made him a wealthy man, but he was never vulgar or ostentatious. They loved him and respected his privacy; he loved them and gave them simple joy. And as the years flew by, and the vast ballrooms faded to hotel cabarets, for those few exhilarating hours, they belted out the old, familiar, arm-waving choruses - always finishing with the anthemic Goodbye Venice, Goodbye- and were young again.
"I just came to say thanks for all the fun," said Geraldine Byrne, a teacher from Tullamore and lifelong Joe fan. "Only at a Joe show," commented a Limerick woman, after an announcement from the altar about the location of toilets and exits.
Meanwhile, stars from the showband era proceeded to the reserved seats to sympathise with the Dolan family and friends, while back in the stalls, the success or otherwise of a particular hair dye job or eye-lift (and that was just about the men) was mercilessly discussed.
With 10 priests on the alter, the Dolan family offered up a traditional Irish funeral Mass with no showbizzy interludes; the music included a magnificent rendition of O Holy Nightby the Mullingar Cathedral Choir, a wholehearted Be Not Afraidsung by Joe's niece, Maeve Dolan Corroon, a haunting trumpet solo of Ave Maria, played by Frankie McDonald, a Dolan band veteran.
The eulogy was delivered by Fr Brian D'Arcy, a close friend of 40 years. He kept his promise to Joe "to give them a laugh" while weaving the funny stories of "the man in the white suit making us all happy", with tales of a reflective and discreetly charitable man, who "brought joy and peace and put many a roof on many a chapel and made no display of money". He observed that Christmas night at Joe's, "almost always included a number of Traveller children who'd be fed and sent home".
Joe, he said, "used every single talent he had to bring happiness to people. The only vocation an entertainer has is to make people happy - and that is a wonderful vocation," said Fr D'Arcy, launching into a robust defence of the industry.
"Maybe today, the people who started the showband industry might get credit for changing the face of a dark and dull Ireland," he said, describing those interpreters of Lonnie Donegan, Pat Boone and Jim Reeves, as "travelling jukeboxes who broke us out of our corners of authoritarian bigotry . . . Those men did it. Don't forget, when they started, RTÉ closed down at 10 o'clock . . . They were the pioneers of the Celtic Tiger even though some people could not give them the credit."
Joe Dolan, he recalled, recorded original songs, reaching Number 1 in 14 countries across the world and playing to audiences of 80,000. "Joe was not the kind of man to tell you that . . . He was a true star, happy in his own skin . . ." The gifts at the Offertory included a golf club, a photograph of St Brigid's special needs school (of which Joe was a patron) and a copy of his last album, Let There be Love.
Then finally, as the celebrant, Fr Mark English, said "Goodnight, Joe" and the cathedral choir's moving rendition of Jesus, Remember Mefaded out, somewhere from the choir gallery, the soft mellifluous voice of Sandra Dolan, Joe's niece, began the lyrics familiar to tens of thousands of Joe fans, the anthem he always sent them home with: "Goodbye my lovely friend /Your bridges sigh no more/ I hope we'll meet again/ I've lost you now for sure . . ." As the coffin was borne down the aisle, the congregation joined in a chorus of Goodbye Venice, Goodbye, so charged, sweet and muted that Geraldine Byrne described it as "like a hymn". An old man waved his cap; others broke into applause as the singing was carried on to the thousands outside, until the streets of Joe's old home town echoed to his final anthem.
Later, his old friend, Christy Maye, whose hotels hosted many a Dolan concert, told of a conversation he had overheard the day before: "One fella said, 'sure he was as good as Elvis'. And the other lad looked at him and asked, 'Was Elvis that good?'."
Between the removal and funeral services, some 10,000 people turned out to say goodbye to Joe Dolan, estimated funeral director Con Gilsenan. Among them were the aides de camp to the President and the Taoiseach. Others from public life included Minister for Finance Brian Cowen, former taoiseach Albert Reynolds, Mary O'Rourke TD, Séamus Bannon TD, Willie Penrose TD and Senator Donie Cassidy. From the entertainment and sports world among many, were Oliver Barry, Páidí Ó Sé, Daniel O'Donnell, Dana, Ronnie Drew, Red Hurley, Dickie Rock, Paddy Cole, Tony Kenny, Brendan Bowyer, Brendan Grace, Ronan Keating, comedian Frank Carson and snooker champion, Dennis Taylor.
