Thanks for publishing Celtic Born. I regularly access NewsNow and you can’t imagine how thrilled I was to see it titled Brendan is Celtic born. Your family stories of watching Celtic in 1930s. I’ve now shown it to my family and they’re equally as thrilled.
I don’t want to go all ambitious but the Paradise we now know and love is a very different animal to the Stadium I’d gone to in 60s & 70s.
Life on the Celtic Park Terraces
My first Celtic match wasn’t accompanying a Father or indeed any family member ( my Dad was already nearly in his mid 60s and my older brothers seemed self absorbed or detached or aloof from Football or just not interested).
Fortunately for me a family of five brothers moved ( or flitted as we knew it ) from Drumchapel to near by us in Balornock. They were proper 100% football playing nuts and total Celtic zealots to boot. They didn’t have self doubt or ambivalence towards Fitba ‘ or The Bhoys. Their parents were both Irish which seemed to somehow legitimise their passion all the more. They didn’t seem cowed by the odd stray mouthy WATP type Rangers fan (not that there were too many in Balornock!)
The first match was thrilling especially as Celtic beat Motherwell 4 : 2 with Stevie Chalmers getting a hat trick and Bobby Murdoch scored with a 30 yard thunderbolt.
(Just a slight digression but Chalmers was a local Balornock lad and had several years earlier when he was still single tried to date one of my much older Sisters. She declined then moved to Canada not long after. I doubt she would have got it but it was oft joked she was banished for not seeing the virtue in probably what was to be scorer of Celtic‘s greatest goal).
The first time at Parkhead was otherwise incident free. No trouble nor any hint of excitability just the honest celebration of a match well won.
I started to attend more and more frequently and eventually it was accepted my love of Celtic and there being no evidence of anything adverse meant I could go with my peers. It was very interchangeable but Brian and Frank Grimes, John Biggam and the perennial BO’s ( Brian O‘ Sullivan ). On the very odd occasions Frank McGarvey who we only knew as Peter ( 168 appearances 68 goals).
None were Neds nor ‘hard men ‘ in any traditional definition but I’d say they’d stand their ground and weren’t readily intimidated. Always a bonus especially negotiating your way through East End Glasgow on dark Winter nights for mid week matches. They were a mix of postponed matches (winter months were full of postponements) , Cup replays and of course European nights.
The European nights were magical then too , crisp winter evenings, full house the floodlights and what an atmosphere!
Back then we alternated between either the Celtic Family Enclosure ( roughly the first 10 – 12 seated rows of the Main Stand ) which ironically wasn’t always that familial. Someone once said to us “ What about the industrial language “ and we replied “ We‘ ll try not to use any! “
By our early to mid teens we started to gravitate towards either the Celtic End or The old Jungle. I think you needed the fearlessness of adolescent testosterone to survive both although The Jungle was a bit more ‘ Celtic Da ‘ although incredibly intimidating to Visiting teams. Just ask Gordon Strachan!
The old Celtic End attracted a younger demographic and was generally much more volatile. There’s no use ducking this – on occasions Celtic fans would rain down bottles and cans ( quite often filled with urine ) intended for the running track but inevitably striking fellow Celtic supporters. There were casualties and sometimes random follow ons as irate victims went in search of the culprits. There were no such things Stewards in those days. It was Polis or nothing.
Glesga Polis largely looked liked Prometheus cast offs back then and their fearsome reputation and ‘ actions ‘ would sort it out one way or another. Some fans wouldn’t be back in time for tea. They were getting a ‘ lie in ‘ courtesy of the Hardest Gang in Glasgow ( Glesga Polis alternate name).
There was also a well known sub culture of Gangs ( in fact called Teams rather than Gangs). Some had a close affinity to Celtic although this wasn’t reciprocal. The Cumbie from The Gorbals The Shamrock from Garngad and a smattering of The Maryhill Fleet. Again, sorry but they would on occasions use the Celtic End as a temporary War Zone. Although it has to be said it wasn’t week in or week out. Presumably some Accord or Agreement would be worked out and peace and love of football prevailed.
Of course when Rangers swung by for the annual neighbourhood version of ‘ kicking the Danes head ‘ (one of the origins of Fitba ‘ ) internecine warfare was set aside for something much more tribal. People built up to that one home match ( there was no playing each other four times a year) with quasi nationalist /religious fervour. Especially the traditional Ne ‘erday match and especially a home game at Paradise. Many came directly from all nighter celebrations direct to the Stadium. Excessive amounts of alcohol a tribal atmosphere and probably the whole Rangers end packed to the rafters.
No wonder it became the fashion to wear Builders safety helmets to stand in the Celtic End. Ubiquitous too as white could have green stripes added and yellow ones green and white for the tricolour!!
I just hope Glesga Polis had their checkered foreheads reinforced. It was as close to Riot ( Damages ) Act 1886 that you could take it. Happy New Year to aw them Glesga Polis.
Brendan McKenna (Breandán Mac Cionnath)
I’m pretty sure that the picture of the stadium is actually the East terracing, the old Rangers’ end, as the Celtic end was covered by the early sixties. Also, you can clearly see the old half time scoreboard which I remember as being situated at the back of the East terracing. Half time scores were conveyed using the alphabet as a code for the games – you had to buy a programme to find out which teams were playing under which letter of the alphabet.
Correct
Yes – that photo is actually of the “Rangers End”. The photo was taken in the 1960/61 season – the season I started going to games. By that time the Celtic End already had a cover. As Brendan says the Celtic End was in 1960’s the place for the more volatile and passionate fans. It would be a few years yet before the Jungle took that mantle. ( the Gordon Strachan incident was a few decades away). When I was taken to games as a youngster it was either the wee enclosure in front of the main stand or mostly the Rangers End. One of my earliest memories is of standing in the Rangers End on a sunny day and hearing “Hail Glorious St Patrick” coming from the Celtic End at the opposite side of the ground. Apart from the Rangers games there was no segregation in those days so as a youngster I was always aware of visiting fans aroud us at times. Partick Thistle, Hearts and Dundee are the teams I recall as bringing a reasonble support. On one occasion I spent the game in the company of some visiting Aberdeen fans. In those days Aberdeen was still considered a reasonable journey and I was intrigued by their stories of having to travel relatively long distances for every away game when we had so many away games that were only a few miles further than an home game. When I started going to games with friends as opposed to being taken by adults we occasionally went into the Jungle – especially if it was raining but that was not considered as a particularly exciting location in those days- certainly no singing. My first occasion in the Celtic End was a visit from Morton in 1964. Morton had taken the old Second Division by storm the previous season and been getting 10,000 crowds at Cappielow. They had got off to a good start in the top divison and were above Celtic in the league table. They would bring a good support to Celtic Park. It was my mate Peter who suggested we go to the Celtic End that night. He had heard stories of these wild men from the shipyards who came to games armed with rivets and knives! So to the Celtic End we went and there we stayed for what would be the most glorious decade of Celtic’s history. As Brendan indicated there could be friction on occasion among the inhabitants of the Celtic End. A large group of us used to stand in the middle of the Celtic End. That was also a spot for the Shamrock team. One day, for some unknown reason, one of them took a dislike to the way one of our guys had said something so he banged a bottle over his head. The crowd parted, the police and ambulance men arrived. The culprit and his mates had fled the scene and our mate was carted away for treatment. Forunately the damage was minimal and he caught up with us at the end of the game. (In those days we used to play a corner sweepstake game. Before kick off about 7 or 8 of us would chip in a few bob and then agree on an order for the kitty to be passed around each time there was a corner. Whoever was holding the kitty at the final whistle kept the money. On this day the guy holding the kitty at the time was the one who was bottled. In his absence we continued the corner count and then got the money off him at the end of the game!) After that game we still stayed at the Celtic End but moved along to the next entrance way to avoid any further possible contact with the Shamrock. I was getting a bit older by the the time the Jungle was becoming the place for the “Choir” and being a traditionalist I did not fancy moving so generally stayed at the Celtic End until I developed a liking for a bit more comfort and ended up becoming a “standite” despite my scorn for that part of the support in my younger days- but that is another story!
Celtic end for us all through the sixties .When it was busy our old man plonked us in front of a stanchion half way up the terrace and slightly to the right of the goals..It wasn’t unusual on such nights for celebration of a goal resulting in my brother and I being swept along 10 yrds to the left of where we started when the goal was scored. Wasn’t aware of gang issues but do remember the bottles and cans in flight. The night of Us v Liverpool Euro cup winners cup semi, stands out as the most packed night I remember, .God knows how many were there but my 12 year old self was aware of being part of a huge wave of people being pushed all ways. ! .My first visit to Paradise was some years earlier,1959 to be exact My dad and sat in the Stand among half of the Archdiocese of Glasgow clergy and other visiting, dog collar waring , priests.Great days among many wonderful times watching and supporting Celtic.
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I’m pretty sure Brendan is my best pal back then and I’m the Brian he mentions in the article – one of 5 brothers with Irish parents who lived in Balornock at the time. I remember it all well ,all the pals he mentions and the great trips to Celtic Park! Great times and we’re obviously still die hard Celtic fans!
*Hi Brendan. Great to hear from you and great article!