At an early age, John attended "Wee Willie Aitken's" school in nearby Castle Street. There, he was taught the three ‘R’s’ and introduced to drawing, painting and even astronomy, Aitken's speciality. After attending classes for only six weeks, John became a draw-boy in his father's weaving shop. He was sec to the loom, making shawl fringes. John disliked this work and got a job serving in his cousin's tavern in Glasgow, where he dispensed drams and picked up Glasgow slang from some of the rough customers. When his father heard about this, he insisted chat his son come back to Paisley, to learn a decent, respectable trade. Young John became an apprentice stereotyper with Paisley's leading' printer/publisher, John Neilson. He made type for Neilson for four years, but left over a dispute in wages. Now aged 22 and with some experience behind him, John left Paisley and set up his own business in Glasgow's Gallowgate, making large wooden type for use in bills and posters.

As a naturally skilled draughtsman, it was easy for John to turn his hand to wood engraving. He was asked to make an engraving showing the public execution of two Glasgow murderers, Doolan & Redding. He made a quick sketch of the public gibbet the day before the executions and added in the figures of the condemned men. He then printed broadsheets to sell at one penny each. On the day of execution, John sold thousands of copies to eager spectators and made a handsome profit.

In his social life, he knew people like William Miller the author of "Wee Willie Winkle". Years later, the subject of this famous poem became one of John Urie's apprentices!

In 1849, he moved his office to Buchanan Street, where he made wood engravings for the "Practical Mechanics" monthly magazine.

He visited the Great Exhibition of 1851 in London, where the machinery and photographs displayed were the 'principal sources of attraction to him'. On one visit, he saw the Duke of Wellington on horseback. John recognised him at once and doffed his hat. The Duke instantly returned the salute!

When he returned to Glasgow, John Urie took up photography, making his first camera out of an old cigar box with the lens made from old spectacles. In the attic space of his office, he built a glasshouse studio, one of the earliest in Glasgow. Soon, the public were clamouring for their portraits. Such was his success in this new-fangled art, that, in 1852, he exhibited his portraits at the Johnstone Mechanics' Institute. His clientele gradually built up and was to include the Duke of Montrose, Betty Bums the poet's daughter, David Livingstone the African explorer, Dr James 'Paraffin' Young, John Robertson engineer of the 'Comet' steamship and many other celebrities. David Livingstone and Urie became friends. Livingstone visited the studio several times to receive lessons in photography from Urie and proved an apt pupil.

One of Urie's most notorious clients was a young lady of good birth and breeding, whose deeds were soon to startle the world. Three months after her portrait was taken, this strikingly beautiful young girl was put on trial for murder. Her name was Madeleine Smith.

Madeleine stood accused of the murder of her lover, Emile L'Angelier, by arsenic poisoning. In 1857, during the trial, Urie displayed a large hand-tinted photograph of her in his shop window. His shop was besieged with onlookers, such was the public interest in one of Scotland's most sensational trials. Urie was asked by the police to remove the portrait, but refused to do so. The publicity given to his studio was too good to miss!

Another person Urie met socially was the infamous Glasgow murderer, Dr Ptitchard. Urie thought him an odd character and fortunately did not befriend him. He also knew a fellow photographer called John Greatex, who became infamous as a forger of banknotes. Strange acquaintances for a respectable Paisley man!

John Urie died in 1910. He is best remembered for his portraits of the famous and infamous persons of his time. His pioneer work in photography included the invention, in the 1850s, of a clockwork machine, which could develop and print pictures at the rate of 100 copies an hour. John Urie's machine was not a great commercial success, but he had the satisfaction of knowing that it paved the way towards the birth of cinematography.