Rev. Jack McCallum: ‘He took Falkirk to his heart and Falkirk certainly took him to theirs’

Former Falkirk Herald assistant editor Duncan McCallum pens a personal tribute to his father, the Reverend Jack McCallum who died last week
Watch more of our videos on Shots! 
and live on Freeview channel 276
Visit Shots! now

My dad, John, usually known as Jack, McCallum died last week. Tragically, because of this terrible virus, there were no family members with him as he fought the illnesses that would finally take him.

For someone who’d devoted so much time, in his role as a hospital chaplain, visiting those in hospital, it was an added irony.
He would, however, have seen the joke.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

It will be the same with his funeral. Unlike the thousands of times he’d brought comfort to families and friends who’d lost loved ones, his will be a lonely affair with only a few close family members gathering – but keeping a safe distance – to say their farewells.

Reverend Jack McCallumReverend Jack McCallum
Reverend Jack McCallum

Minister of Irving Church in Camelon from 1962 to 1998 he took Falkirk to his heart and, as hundreds of online comments following his death show, Falkirk took him to theirs.

Those who knew him have been quick to tell us of their regret at his passing. It is some consolation to be reminded of how many people’s lives he touched, whether it was a Christening, a wedding, a visit when they were ill or had lost a loved one, support during testing periods in their lives or just lightening the load with a joke or a kind word.

He loved children and would happily spend hours with them, in his final years looking forward to visits from his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, singing along with them or making paper aeroplanes … proper paper aeroplanes with tails and things, not just easy to make darts.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

He devoted a great deal of time to his chaplaincies at Camelon High, Dawson Park and its successor Carrongrange and at Rossvail School. I’ve lost count of the people who have told me over the years how well they remember his assemblies, sometimes carried out with the help of Kwackers, a chatty yellow duck or a tie which magically curled up whenever he exaggerated a story a bit too much. The audience, pupils and staff, invariably loved it.

Anyway, back to the start. He was born in Glasgow’s Dennistoun area on May 16, 1927, to John and Ivy McCallum, who lived just round the corner from where Lulu was to be brought up, a little bit of excitement on our visits as we grew up. Although his older brother, Alex, served in the RAF, dad’s only uniforms during the war years were his BB and ATC ones.

He attended Whitehill Secondary School and then trained as a draughtsman, working with Weir’s of Cathcart until his decision to join the ministry.

He and my mother, Margaret, were members of Glasgow’s Trinity Duke Street Church, a hugely active congregation under its then minister, Denis Duncan. It was the focus of many activities which engaged them both, badminton he tried to introduce to Irving Church and was even still attempting to play as he approached his nineties, as members of the local Keep Ticking group can attest.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Music was a big love and, playing by ear, he would batter out a tune on the piano at the drop of a hat.

In a cupboard beside the piano in the sitting room of the manse in Dorrator Road was a box of black and white pictures which we would rake through, trying to pick out our parents or various ‘‘aunts’’ and ‘‘uncles’’, a task made difficult by the Chinese, pirate or policemen’s costumes and a slathering of theatrical make up. His love of Gilbert and Sullivan was long lasting.

Like many who’ve gone on to appear on the stage, dad had a speech impediment as a youngster. We reckon it was the experience of reciting poems and songs to get over the problem that give him his taste for performance.

He could certainly tell a joke. And I’m sure there are plenty of best men who, after their own speech, have quickly regretted asking the minister to say a few words.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

He loved a stage and loved entertaining, one church cavalcade’s opening held up as he spent 10 hilarious minutes trying to get rid of an imaginary piece of sticky tape that just would not let go.

His decision to take up the ministry saw us in a room and kitchen in Renfrew while my dad studied at Glasgow Uni, acting as assistant minister at Renfrew Old Parish Church.

The initial move through to Falkirk was made difficult by the fact my brother, Gordon, was in hospital in Paisley with viral meningitis, I was in bed with one of my regular asthma attacks and my mum’s mum, who’d come through to help us settle in, was also struck down with illness. Fiona was just a baby. It made the welcoming social in the manse an interesting affair with six-year-old Kenneth the only one representing the children.

The move meant a big change, not least carpeting this much bigger house with a massive garden to look after. Space was well used, a full-sized table tennis table, made by dad as a surprise Christmas present, taking up the top landing for years.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

He served the people of Camelon unstintingly for the next 36 years, eventually retiring at the age of 71.

He gave a lot of himself, helping to run Christian Aid Week for years and as a volunteer with The Samaritans from its early days locally.

And never one to turn down a request, he served several terms as locum at local churches including St James’ and Polmont after leaving Irving.

He continued to be fairly active for many years but in the last three or four declined physically, though he was always pleased to be taken out for a family meal or get-together, a curry in the Sanam a favourite.

Hide Ad
Hide Ad

Sadly unable to get out and about as much as he would have liked, he did latterly enjoy being picked up and taken to day care sessions held in Burnbrae House.

His last stay in hospital was made difficult by the Covid-19 restrictions but, according to staff, he was refusing to give in and, during his better moments, ready for a chat and a joke.

My mum, myself, brothers Kenneth and Gordon and sister Fiona; our partners Myra, Gill, Pat and Alby; his eight grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren are all going to miss him hugely.

*Apology: Last week’s Herald contained some wrong information. Dad was at Irving Church from 1962 not 1972 as reported. I’m afraid the fault was all mine and I’m sorry if I confused anyone.

Related topics: