Bit Of Insight Into My Paisley Heritage

[Magic Monkey]

My mum pointed this article out to me at the weekend - it had passed me by before, but was reasonably interesting (to me, at least).

It's a quick piece about my Great Great Grampa, John Slack. Seems he was a bit, ahem, 'notorious' in Paisley before he was converted to become an Evangelist.

Mum says my middle name came from him. It was John Slack's grandson, my Grampa, Vic Slack, who moved to the Midlands in the late 50s/early 60s, and who brainwashed his first grandson to support the Buds, buying him his first St Mirren strip (as per profile pic.)

The death of Paisley evangelist John Slack was felt by many people throughout the town.

It was 1909 and the well-known Buddie had been a regular fixture in County Square for the past six years.

But Mr Slack hadn’t been a preacher all his life – in fact, far from it.

Up until a few years before his death, he had engaged, with varying degrees of success, in diverse forms of business.

Quite often, he had been pretty much down on his luck but had also experienced the highs of many of his successes, like owning a winner at the Paisley races.

Everyone in the town knew John Slack. He had a notorious reputation as a gambler, heavy drinker and entertainer of sorts.

But that all changed when he met Josiah Nix – also known as the Racecourse Preacher.

Mr Slack’s worried sister had been earnestly praying for his conversion and wrote to Mr Nix when she heard he was due to visit Paisley.

Her husband urged Mr Slack to attend too.

Mr Slack had not entered a place of worship since his sister’s wedding almost 20 years previous but he went along to the Good Templar’s Hall, in Paisley, and eventually signed the pledge to convert to Christianity.

For the next five-and-a-half years, he would work tirelessly for the Christian cause – visiting almost 2,000 homes in one year alone.

Many Buddies were converted to Christianity but Mr Slack was hailed as the greatest ever convert, due entirely to the incredible reversal of his notorious past.

Friends of drunkards or gamblers felt they could be led to a better life by seeing Mr Slack, with many declaring: “If John Slack can be converted, then so can I.”

As a fine speaker, Mr Slack was ideal for this kind of work and soon threw himself into raising the funds which would enable Paisley’s Methodists to build their own hall.

In a real touch of irony, a site was purchased for the halls at the corner of Smithhills Street, on the very spot where a tenement, once owned by Mr Slack, had proudly stood.

Part of this building was occupied by the Museum Bar and the corner had long been regarded as one of the town’s unsavoury spots.

While the building was being converted to the Central Methodist Halls, a morning roll – reckoned to have been part of the breakfast ‘enjoyed’ by the last man to be hanged in County Square – was discovered!

At the official stone-laying ceremony for the new building, copies of the Paisley Daily Express and the Methodist Times were placed in a time capsule.

Sadly, Mr Slack died suddenly in 1909 and, as his funeral took place at Hawkhead Cemetery, the colourful Buddie would have been pleased at his rescue from the dark side of life.

http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk/news/local-news/the-story-of-john-slack-2534999

[insaintee]

#prayforKendo

[Magic Monkey]

Yesterday was the 20th anniversary of the death of my Grampa, Vic Slack. 

He grew up in Paisley and was St Mirren through and through. His favourite player was Gerry Baker. He was an aircraft fitter in the RAF, and loved playing football, bowls, cricket and snooker.

He's the sole reason I support St Mirren. To look at it from another angle, St Mirren are the reason I exist: my Gran was, ahem, 'courting' the Saints goalie at the time, which was when my Grampa noticed her. She went to a dance with the goalie, left with my Grampa, and the rest is history. 

My avatar pic was taken in his back garden, wearing the strip he bought me when I was born. It took a couple of years to grow into it!

Following Saints is how I keep his memory alive. 

 

I took this pic of him with my gran (right) and great aunt, at the final in 1987.