Terence M. Sullivan: The Performing Plumber
Terence M. Sullivan: The Performing Plumber
Terence M. Sullivan's business card announces him as the performing plumber.
It's a fair warning to his customers that once he sticks his head under their sinks he is guaranteed to launch into a wisecracking monologue in one of the many voices he has mastered. Or to break into song - be it folk, blues, or one of his beloved traditional Irish ballads - in his rich tenor.
"I tell them I like to keep the pipes pitched," said Mr. Sullivan, who splits his time between SoHo, where he runs his plumbing business, and the cozy house he and his longtime companion, Jeanelle Myers, have owned on Richards Drive in Sag Harbor since 1991. "I'm the token Irishman in Azurest," he said.
Singing Comes First
While Mr. Sullivan makes his living as a plumber, he prefers to live his life as a singer - he has performed with choruses in New York over the past 20 years and with Pete Seeger on a number of occasions - and as a guardian of his Irish heritage.
"Someone once said I live my life as a passion, and I do," he said. "I could have made more money if I stuck to plumbing, but I've always been willing to put it aside for a chance to sing."
In keeping with his current passion, Mr. Sullivan is eager to launch a seisiun - Irish for a get-together, usually in a pub, where people sing traditional songs, tell stories, and recite poems - on the East End.
Unwritten Etiquette
In a seisiun, "everybody who comes to sing or play will get a chance to perform," Mr. Sullivan said. Usually, newcomers will perform their "party piece, their best stuff, and show off what they can do."
But there is an unwritten etiquette governing who plays when and for how long, "just as there are strict rules for how rounds are bought in a pub," he said.
"The Irish are really into being generous and open, but it has to be orderly. If you're an outsider, they understand that you don't understand, but if you keep coming back, you'll be expected to learn."
Defeating Bullies
The traditions are adhered to, he continued, because the Irish, after centuries under an oppressive English rule that made it a crime even to speak their own language, are determined to keep their culture alive.
"It's a rebel music. The theme of defeating bullies large and small recurs," he said. "There's also an anti-materialism, a search for spiritual beauty, and while it is often sad, there's a lot of humor too."
To demonstrate, Mr. Sullivan breaks into "Mr. Moses R-Tooral-i-lay," the story of a Jewish merchant who hangs a sign above his Dublin shop and is dragged before the magistrate by an ignorant English cop who mistakes the Hebrew for Irish. The merchant hits it off with the judge, and the cop, who was aiming for a promotion, winds up sweeping streets.
But the mood shifts quickly as he moves on to "Amhran Dochais," or "The Song of Hope," a "let's-get-our act-together song," he said, that laments the civil unrest that followed Ireland's independence from England in 1922.
Ironically, the song "is never sung in anything but English, and that drives the purists crazy," he said.
The country's suffering under English occupation is the theme of "Four Green Fields." Like Tommy Makem, the song's writer and a former member of The Clancy Brothers, Mr. Sullivan likes to introduce it with a Seamus Heaney poem, "Requiem for the Croppies," about a band of Irish revolutionaries who were slaughtered after the short-lived Wexford uprising in 1789.
Discovered His Roots
And he finishes off an impromptu concert with a version of "My Lagan Love," a song with a haunting melody that scholars have compared to Indian music. "When the Europeans began experimenting with harmonies hundreds of years ago, the Irish said, 'Who needs harmony if you have a good melody?' " he said.
Despite being born into a second generation Irish-American family in Brooklyn's Flatbush neighborhood on Dec. 7, 1946 - "Needless to say, there were a lot of family jokes about getting bombed on my birthday," he said - Mr. Sullivan discovered Irish song and verse on his own.
"It's the role of the second generation to deny their roots," Mr. Sullivan said. "Normally you'd think being a singer would be welcomed in an Irish family - I found this out later - but they thought it was the most outrageous thing I could do."
Like other children of the 1950s and early 1960s, Mr. Sullivan found himself drawn to rock-and-roll and the folk scene. He was already the "neighborhood beatnik" when he attended a 1963 Carnegie Hall concert by Mr. Seeger that was later released as the "We Shall Overcome" album.
"That put me right over the edge," he said.
Mr. Sullivan later sang in "hootenanny groups" and, after a stint in the Army, during which he was fortunate to avoid being shipped off to Vietnam, sang lead in a group called Blu Doctor while attending Dowling College. "It was a combination of light show, experimental theater, and blues," he said of the late '60s adventure.
In the '70s, Mr. Sullivan moved to SoHo, where he tried his hand at acting and learned plumbing as a way to make a living. Later, he took up video-making. Most of his works "were spoofs" on television commercials, he said.
Spiritual Music
His interest waned in the mid-'80s after he sent his "New Clear Detergent" commercial to an Oregon film festival where they missed the point, implicit in the name of the product, of his satire.
Eager for an artistic outlet, Mr. Sullivan joined the Art Mob, a New York-based chorus that specialized in early American music and spirituals. He continued his research into music by attending a series of workshops in Rhinebeck, N.Y., including one in 1988 that was taught by Joseph Shabalalla, the leader of the South African a cappella group Ladysmith Black Mambazo.
The experience with Mr. Shabalalla enthralled Mr. Sullivan, who returned the next year for a workshop on gospel and spiritual music and again in 1990 for a session on folk music led by Mr. Seeger.
Dream Come True
"It was ending on a whimper," Mr. Sullivan recalled, so he approached his idol and suggested they close the program with Woody Guthrie's "Dusty Old Dust," a rousing folk staple that is better known by its chorus, "So long, It's been good to know you."
"Pete looked at me and said, 'You've got just the voice to lead it,' " Mr. Sullivan said, his own voice mimicking Mr. Seeger's quavering whisper.
After the final sing-along, the two men sat down for a chat. When Mr. Sullivan said he wanted to form an interracial chorus, Mr. Seeger's eyes lit up. He had been contemplating a similar project. "You're just the person I'm looking for!" he said.
"You have to understand, this is my childhood hero," said Mr. Sullivan. "I turned around in my chair to see who he was talking to."
Friendship Formed
Mr. Sullivan joined the group, which later became The New York Street Singers, and developed a strong friendship with Mr. Seeger. When a concert was held to commemorate Carnegie Hall's centennial in 1991, Mr. Seeger asked Mr. Sullivan and four other singers, a group known as Stone Soup, to perform "Amazing Grace" with him.
At that concert, Stone Soup also backed up Peter Yarrow and Paul Stookey of Peter, Paul, and Mary, who were forced to sing without Mary Travers, who was recovering from throat surgery.
Mr. Seeger repaid the favor when he played concerts at the Old Whalers Church in 1993 and 1994, along with Stone Soup, to help raise funds for the Eastville Community Historical Society. "We had 'em hanging from the rafters," Mr. Sullivan said.
The success of those concerts is something Mr. Sullivan relishes, although he is aiming for something a little more low key with his seisiuns.
"If some people want to take it to that level and go out and perform, great," he said, "but mostly I just want it to be a chance for people to come and swap stories and songs."