The Orpheus

Start or end your story with two characters sitting down for a meal.

The Orpheus 

When John Murphy attended the University of Ulster’s Art College in York Street Belfast, his favourite building on the Campus was the iconic Orpheus. In this building, his father and mother had sat down for their first meal together. 

This building was constructed in 1932 by Samuel Stevenson and it was a fine example of Art Deco. 

Orpheus was regarded as the most brilliant music player in Ancient Greece. Orpheus and Eurydice had a doomed love affair and their story is a well-known Greek myth. John remembered his father telling him about the ‘ballroom of romance’ where he met his mother in the early fifties. He also spoke of the restaurant where he took her for a meal the week after meeting her at the dance.

His father told him you could buy a good meal for half a crown. In the 50s, many show bands were formed—they played in the dance halls all over Ireland and the entertainment business was buoyant. Bands like the Dixies, the Miami Show band were very popular. The bands played a mixture of rock ‘n’ roll and country and western and also some traditional Dixieland jazz.

There were usually two lead singers in the band and as well as having a section of drums, there was a keyboard instrument and bass guitars. There was usually a brass section including a trumpet, trombone and a saxophone.

And now they were going to knock it down as they were building a new university campus. John was devastated. This was the building where his parents had met, danced, dined and then wed. Not only that but John had also studied art at this campus in the eighties and he also had an attachment to the building.

As John watched the bulldozers going in to demolish the Orpheus, he was indignant. How could they raze it to the ground? He had read this description in Perspective, the Ulster’s Architects Journal:

‘The restrained façade of red-brick hides much exuberant Art Deco decoration inside. From the wainscot wood panelling and stained glass on the central stairwells to the remarkable stucco plasterwork, with zigzag, sunburst and floral motifs, on the wonderfully curved and gorgeously white ceiling of the Orpheus ballroom on the top-floor of the building’.

Unlike Orpheus and Eurydice, John’s parents, Rose and Patrick had a long and happy marriage—a marriage made in heaven. There was no need for Patrick to go down to the underworld to bargain with Hades to release Eurydice.

The only thing Patrick had in common with the Orpheus myth was that he was also a musician—he was a saxophone player and he played at various locations in Belfast—mostly small venues—he also worked in a factory called Belfast Silk & Rayon which made tablecloths and tea-towels. 

John could not credit that a wrecking ball was destroying this wonderful building. He was aware that there were campaigns to save the Orpheus. He had signed the online petition which was sent to the University of Ulster.

The Ulster Architectural Heritage Society were concerned about the loss of such an important building and asked the UU to reconsider their decision. They asked the UU to come up with an alternative plan, which would allow the building to remain. They suggested that because of the building’s architectural and cultural significance, it should be retained and blended into the new development.

As the new Campus took shape, and all traces of the Orpheus were gone, John realised that he had been trying to recreate the past. He idealised his parents’ marriage and the place where they first met, which was he felt was very special. When it was razed to the ground, he felt his precious memories were being violated.

But as the weeks and months passed, he was able to come to terms with the loss. Everything is impermanent. He had recently read Elif Shafak’s Forty Rules of Love and he thought this description of Baghdad was interesting:  

“This city is a gem, no doubt," I said carefully. "But let us not forget that cities are like human beings. They are born, they go through childhood and adolescence, they grow old, and eventually they die. At this moment in time Baghdad is in its late youth. We are not as wealthy as we used to be at the time of Caliph Harun ar-Rashid but we can still take a measure of pride in being the centre of trade, crafts and poetry. But who knows what that the city will look a thousand years from now? Everything might be different”.

So the Orpheus was gone and the attempts to save it, fell on deaf ears. This building had survived the blitz in WW2, it had survived the ‘Troubles’ and now it was swept away in the name of progress. So John had to accept that nothing stays the same for ever. In the Forty Rules of Love, Shams says:

“There is no question Baghdad is a remarkable city, but no beauty on earth lasts forever. Cities are erected on spiritual columns. Like giant mirrors, they reflect the hearts of their residents. If those hearts darken and lose faith, cities will lose their glamour. It happens, and it happens all the time.” 

He liked the idea that ‘cities are erected on spiritual columns.’ Shams pointed out something profound. Everything is impermanent. And if there is unrest and conflict in the hearts of the population, then it can become a war zone. Belfast and Baghad are both examples of the way the lack of leadership and robust politics can create mayhem and instability.

Heraclitus of Ephesus wrote that all is flux, and that you cannot step in the same river twice. His parents were gone, the restaurant where they shared their first together was gone, and he would just have to accept it. He decided not to spend so much time thinking about the past, and instead focus on his own goals. He had girlfriends in the past, but he was never able to sustain a relationship. The demolition of the Orpheus was a sort of turning point to him. He would phone Nora, a woman he had been seeing a few times, and ask her out for a meal.