Brian Beacom

SYDNEY Devine arrives in the Glasgow café looking far from his normal ebullient self, ostensibly to talk about his upcoming Scottish tour.

But given the events of recent weeks, in which the rhinestone cowboy from Cleland in Lanarkshire lost his son Gary to sepsis, it’s a surprise he’s here at all.

Sydney is enduring a tragedy greater than the lyrics of any country and western song he’s ever sung.

And it’s impact is lined into his 78 year-old face. The entertainer’s car sales manager son was just 57 when he died a month ago after contracting sepsis, and had little warning of ill health.

You sense the singer wanted to meet up today, not to sell tickets or to reveal why he couldn’t cancel the tour, but simply to connect.

“Yes, on tour again, at my age, but on the back of what’s happened I really think it’s a good thing,” he says in soft voice as he places his cappuccino on the table.

“You can imagine what’s been going through my head.”

To be honest, I can’t imagine, Sydney. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a parent to lose a child, to turn up at the hospital, thinking your son has had food poisoning only to be told he has little hope of recovery.

“No, you’re right. And I appreciate you saying that because all too often people like to suggest empathy. I’ve done that too. But the truth is this is a level of grief that can’t be shared with anyone. And you can’t know what it’s like.

“When my mother and father died I was heartbroken, but this is an entirely different type of pain.”

He swallows hard, the words difficult to form. “I don’t have any enemies in this world, but if I did I would never wish this on anybody. I can’t comprehend it.”

Sydney works hard to hold it together. He hasn’t taken his first sip of coffee yet.

“When you watch your son die in front of you it’s the worst thing. And I will never get over it. I think about him all the time, day and night.

“I try to block it out of my head with other thoughts but it’s just not possible. When I go to bed at night I try and think of other things. But my thoughts always go back to Gary.”

He pauses and adds; “Maybe, at some point in the future . . . but not now. Certainly not now.”

The singer reaches for the coffee cup. You hope the caffeine hit will help him a little. Over the years, there’s always been a good relationship with this nice man in a very tough business.

He may have sold almost 45m records such as Tiny Bubbles, Maggie and Crystal Chandelier but he has no airs. And right now, he’s nibbling at the edges of a lemon muffin but you sense what he’s really hungry for is a hug.

“I suppose through time the pain will ease,” he says. “But I never realised it would be this hard.”

Thinking of the great moments had with his son helps a little.

“I think of the devilment he caused,” says the singer, breaking into a smile.

“You know, I thought I grabbed all life had to offer but I was at the back of the bus compared to him. Yet, I wish he were doing that right now. I realise he’s gone.”

His voice becomes brittle; “Today, I’m in Glasgow to tie up affairs of his estate. It’s still happening . . .”

The father-of-three, who lives in Ayr just yards from the beach, is sharing his grief with wife Shirley whom he met while performing in Aberdeen in 1958.

“Sometimes tragedy can pull people apart, but we’re very close. We always have been.”

The current tour had been organised six months ago. With the death of his son, many expected him to cancel?

“I did wonder if I could go out there.” He takes a gulp of coffee. “Before each tour I like to prepare. I like to be fit. I practise the vocal chords, I sing quite a bit. But how could I feel like singing with all this going on?”

He says with a wry smile; “And when you add to that I’m singing country songs, where usually fourteen people are killed in the first verse.

“But on this occassion I shall pick my programme very carefully.”

He is also very much aware his relationship with the audience is a two-way process. He entertains them – and they in turn adore him. He can appear before 1600 people and they sing his praises. That must help?

“Yes, it makes me think how lucky I am. But you have to give before you take. I’ve always been a giver. Money has never been of any interest to me whatsoever.

“Yes, I live in a nice house, but I don’t need much at all. Today, I came into Glasgow on the bus, using my bus pass. I haven’t forgotten where I’ve come from. And I work hard on stage.”

He does. He gyrates. He swings his hips. He sweats. He hollers. Most importantly, he connects.

“There are four generations come to the shows,” he says. “And sometimes I wonder why.”

The conversation lightens when we reflect on Devine’s career path. Can he remember why he wanted to become a performer? “Because I was too nervous to steal,” he says, smiling. “And I didn’t fancy becoming a coal miner. Why would I when there was coal in the bunker. I saw no need to go down there.”

Over the years, Devine has had his share of hard knocks along the way, the business deals that collapsed

He adds; “In many ways I’ve been very lucky in life. I’ve survived aneurisms and heart attacks. And I’m still here. Although I would gladly swap places with my son if it meant I could bring him back.”

It’s not surprising conversational roads lead back to his son. Sydney Devine can’t not speak of him.

Has the loss of his son rocked his faith at all? “It’s a good question but I think you pray when you’re in trouble, where there’s a crises,” he says. “I think it’s great to believe. And it can help. And I’m not bitter. It’s life. And death. You can’t legislate for any of it.”

Friends have helped. “A pal from West Sound Radio (where Devine once worked) sent me a card and on it was written ‘Grief is the price you pay for love.’ And that’s so true.”

He takes a final sip of coffee. He seems a little more composed. “I’m glad I met with you today. You’ve made me laugh. I feel better.”

Ready to perform again? “Ready,” he says. “I need it. I really do.”

*Sydney Devine will be appearing at Largs, Barrfield Theatre April 13, Motherwell Civic Centre April 20, Falkirk Town Hall April 29, The Gaiety Theatre Ayr, April 28. He will appear at the Pavilion in Glasgow November 9-10.