by Virtual Gathering
Lads, isn’t ‘The Tech’ great! That was our initial opinion after years in the national school. Now before anyone says otherwise, most of us would agree that we got a great education during those days but enjoyment was probably not the word we would use to describe them.
Then came ‘The Tech’, and by that I mean the Technical School in Listowel which at the time was sited at the end of Church Street just up from Rita Dowling’s shop. No corporal punishment and subjects like woodwork, metalwork, magnetism and electricity, mechanical drawing, mathematics, English, Irish and rural science. Where could you go wrong! To add to that, a number of the teachers were great characters in their own right and seemed to enjoy life. That was how it looked to us anyway. It is necessary to name a few of these men as they left us with a brighter view of life. Mr Harry Nielsen, a genius and a little eccentric who taught metalwork, mechanical drawing, magnetism and electricity. Harry, as he was affectionately known to us all, would stride through the classroom and workshop ‘smoking’ a stick of chalk, while demonstrating how to ‘turn’ properly using the lathe, file metal correctly, draw detailed isometric diagrams and, if you did not do it accurately afterwards, he would come down and read the riot act to you in front of the class. You never took it personally though because the next day he could praise you for doing a task correctly. He had a bit of a short fuse as well, I remember one day, he expertly floated a chair through the air and it bounced a few feet from a couple of lads messing in the workshop, which brought them immediately to their senses.
At that time in the early sixties, Sunday night was the big night for dances. Harry could never understand the reasoning behind this as everyone had to work on Monday. “Why do people not go and enjoy themselves on Saturday night when they could rest on Sunday, after all it is the day of rest” he would constantly question. He had many more similar questions on life in general which at least made us stop and think for a moment or two.
Next we had Mr Paddy Drummond from Tralee who was the boss and nobody questioned his authority. If you tried to pull a trick on him, he would draw himself up to his full five foot nothing and say “Come over here, if I met you on the Rock Street fourteen yard line a few years ago, you would be still recovering from the shock, get out of my sight before I lose my temper”. A brilliant maths teacher who singlehandedly made the subject interesting to the ‘shower’ he was teaching (us). He deserved a medal for patience and another for his teaching methodology. He was also responsible for entering us for public examinations such as P&T (Posts&Telegraphs – Eircom nowadays), ESB, Bord na Móna etc because we certainly would not have bothered entering ourselves. At that time in my life, I thought driving a lorry for Cahill’s would be a great number and that was the height of my ambitions. Paddy and Harry got me to sit the P&T examination and as a result, Cahill’s lost a bad lorry driver.
Paddy Drummond was also the main man behind the football teams in the school. I, however have a sad story for you about my football career in the Tech and it involves Paddy who I think always thought I was a bit of a smart-ass anyway and needed to be shown the error of my ways. The junior team were playing a match back in West Kerry and I was selected as a sub on the team. I was so delighted and even more excited when during the match, as I was sitting with the rest of the lads on the subs bench, Paddy called out “O’Shea, come here”. I thought this is my big chance in my footballing career. However, Paddy says to me “go behind the goals down there and every time the ball is kicked over the bar or wide, kick it back to the goalie”. My dream of stardom was shattered.
I must tell you about another event that sticks in my memory. Just a few weeks after I joined the P&T, the phone in the Tech went out of order and myself and the technician went down to have a look at the problem. The phone was in Paddy Drummond’s office and in we went. Now remember I had only left the Tech about three months earlier and was still only seventeen, but now I thought I was above all that and I stuck out my hand and said “Hello Paddy”. He looked me straight in the eye and said “To you boy, I am still Mister Drummond”. That put me in my place and of course gave the technician a great laugh and he used Paddy’s comment as a joke on me for long after.
Some years later, I met Paddy after an All-Ireland near Heuston Station in Dublin. We were talking about old times. He asked me how I had done and I said ok, ach dúirt cara a bhí in éineacht liom gur bhain mé amach céim eolaíochta cúpla lá roimhe sin, this was meant to say to Paddy that the teaching methods in the Tech were really good. Paddy made sure that I didn’t get a big head and said “finally grown up, have we, well done”. He shook my hand and we laughed.
Seán Ó Mahúna was our teacher for Irish. A big man who lived down Bridge Road direction. Bhí an-ghrá aige don Ghaeilge agus mar sin thug sé an grá sin dúinn. Nílim líofa san Ghaeilge, mar a fheiceann tú, ach deinim mo dhícheall chun í a úsáid agus thug Seán an misneach do dhaoine chun spraoi a bhaint as ár dteanga. Now we pulled a few tricks on him in the classroom from time to time and he could show his displeasure in no uncertain terms, ach de gnáth, bhí an-tuiscint agus an-fhoighne aige chun rudaí mar sin a ghlacadh.
Patsy O’Sullivan was a great teacher and a good footballer who tried his best and to my mind successfully, to cultivate in us a love of the land through his rural science classes. He initiated a project where we were to grow vegetables in a little plot at home and he indicated that he would call to our homes to inspect our efforts. Some very successful gardens resulted from that.
Another good teacher who comes to mind was Bob Fitzgerald. He was the main man on woodwork but I regret to say that his expertise was lost on me. It was a subject that I did not like, and that is putting it mildly. The only woodwork tool I could use properly was the mallet so you see I was never going to become a great carpenter. Mick Curtin (RIP) at Lisselton Cross was not going to have any competition from me anyway. I really envied the lads who could turn out beautiful pieces with tight fitting mortise and tenon joints. Myself, I could never find where Bob kept the nails in his workshop (joking). Technology came to my rescue and took me away from inflicting my woodworking ‘skills’ on an unsuspecting public.
I had many friends during that time, a time I will never forget. I will name a few of those I met during those days, many years ago – I hope they do not mind. Gerard Sullivan, Pat Quill, Tim Brazil, Mike Sullivan, Tony Donoghue, Teresa Larkin, Mairéad McKenna, Jim Nolan, Michael Costello and there were others.
Gerard Sullivan was way ahead of me in the cop-on department and I must say, life was always brighter when he was around. In those days, the bicycle was king as far as transport was concerned. Cycling to and from the Tech should have been included as part of the curriculum as we certainly learned a thing or two about life during those journeys. Gerard and myself made many cycling trips to such exotic places as Duagh and its surrounds and the people we met added greatly to the enjoyment of life.
I remember getting a pair of homing pigeons from Tony Donoghue in exchange for getting him membership of Captain Mac in the Irish Press newspaper. Who remembers Captain Mac? One mistake I made, I did not clip the wings of my birds and by the next day, the two had returned back to Tony. After a reduction in wing size, the two remained with me for the remainder of their lives, much to the horror of my mother as they were certainly not the cleanest of pets. Tony emigrated to Chicago and did well as a head chef in big hotels in the windy city. Pat Quill was from the famous townland of Lyreacrompane. As well as being a gentleman, he was a great footballer and a pleasure to know.
Is mór an trua nach mbíonn ‘bualadh le céile’ againn chun scéalta a mhalairt ón am sin fadó, nuair a bhíomar óg agus nach raibh morán ciall againn.
Talking about Lyreacrompane allows me to change the subject for a moment, if you don’t mind. It reminds me of that lovely part of the world and of the bog. Bíonn áthas orm i gconaí siúl tríd an bportach agus suaimhneas a bhaint as an chiúnas agus ceol binn an éin. Tá an portach i nDirha go hálainn nuair nach mbíonn ort obair leis an móin. Aer úr an phortaigh a chuireann ocras ort i gcóir an dinnéir, nó ar maidin taréis oíche mhór i mBaile an Bhuinneánaigh, baineann sé an tinneas póite uait agus tagann tú ar ais chughat féin. Sin mo leigheas ar aon nós, bain triail as tú féin. Ní dhéanfaidh sé aon damáiste ar aon chuma.
Long ago, we often asked the question “what was the worst job in the bog?” Was it ‘the cleaning’, ‘the cutting’, ‘the turning by hand’, ‘the footing’, ‘the re-footing’, ‘the drawing out’ or ‘the drawing home’. My vote goes with ‘the turning by hand’, usually the sods were stuck to the heath and after a day on bended back, pulling the sods free and then turning them, that was a back-breaking job. The ‘footing’ could come a close second, with the ‘drawing out’ in third place especially if you had to use the wheelbarrow in a soft bog. A great deal depended on the bog of course, as some gave you great black turf off the sleán and it was ready to draw out after a few weeks. Other bogs were a nightmare. Inniu tá an t-inneall ann chun alán rudaí a dhéanamh agus tógann sé sin an cruatan as cuid den obair ach ní dheineann sé an tae fós. An tae sa phortach, sin scéal eile! Nach raibh sé go hiontach. Nílim ag caint faoi bhlas an tae mar de gnáth, bheadh luch ábalta siúl air bhí sé chomh láidir sin. Táim ag caint fén bhriseadh ón obair agus an comhrá eadrainn faoi ghach rud a tharla ar an domhan nó i mBaile an Bhuinneánaigh ar aon nós.
Talking about the bog. Above is a meitheal of hardy young and not so young from days gone bye. It would be great to have the names of All in the group. I think I recognise members of the Neville, Enright, Lynch, Mahony, McMahon, Long and King families among the team.
by Virtual Gathering
My earliest memory is being taken to Lisselton School when I was 4 years old. That was 79 years ago.
The first thing I recall is that everything was new to me! The pupils and the teachers were new to me the first day. The second day, I went to school on my own. I teamed up with some of the Allens, my neighbours, and they became school friends of mine for my young life in football and so on.
The old school at that time was in need of repairs and, shortly after I started there, we had to walk to Ballydonoghue church for the most of a year, without shoes, while the school was being repaired. A lot of my friends got colds, standing all day on the flags in the church. Mrs Scanlon (Pidge Pierce) who was our teacher at the time insisted that we take a sack bag under our arms to school to put under our feet to stand on, to insulate our feet from the cold of the flags. We used to put these in a little heap in the corner in the church when the school day was over.
The school was rebuilt by Pat Keane, the contractor, with new gables and partitions and so forth, and it was at that time that the wall in front of the school was built. The playground was enlarged as well, because when I went to school first we had a very small playground. Three little haggards owned by Ned Collins who lived across the road were acquired by the parish priest for some small sum. When the school was repaired we had a much improved place, elaborate for its time.
“What made me dislike that language”
Irish was the order of the day. One half-hour of English, and the rest of the subjects were all in Irish. I think that was one of the biggest mistakes that was made by the government. It left five of my classmates illiterate. Sadly, four of those emigrated to Britain in the late 1940s and early 1950s and they could not write home to their mothers. That made me dislike that language. During my lifetime I’ve been addressed a few times by prominent people in the Irish language and I’ve told them “Do that no more!” One of those people was John B Keane who got very upset, but when I explained my case and gave the names of two of the lads who could not write home to their mothers, he thought it was sad. But in Asdee, our neighbouring parish, the teacher there – who was a Master Moriarty – taught each pupil how to write a letter in English. He used a sheet of paper and wrote “Dear mother” in one corner, with the date and a few lines like “Working on buildings mostly”, etc. But Master Brown in Lisselton School was obsessed with Irish – nothing else mattered, even though we might not have a bite to eat, no shoes, no weather protection. To teach that language was all he wanted, and it turned most of us of us against Irish, and remember there was over 80 boys and over 80 girls on the roll at the time. The same set-up was in the girls’ room. The slow-learners at the time were left playing marla on their own. Very few had the opportunity to go to any other school.
After schooldays were over, all youngsters had to do was go working with local farmers or on their own holdings, and when they got old enough, they emigrated. I hated to see them going because they usen’t come back in a hurry. If they did come back, they were different people. Quite a number of them are buried over there and a few were found dead on the street, after falling into hard times. They weren’t able to rough it as the years rolled by. One of those who died was brought home all right to be buried because his people were able to do so.
“A wrench, a hammer, a chisel”
Even though I was born on a hillside farm, my interest was in mechanics, and anything to do with a wrench, a hammer and a chisel. My first project was a bike. I went up the hill to Davy Kissane’s house in Lacca. His son, Mike Kissane was a general repair man and could repair anything – clocks, bikes. He had just moved over the Hill to begin his married life in Laheseragh. The other son, Jim, was in the house that day. I told him my story and said that even if I had the frame of an old bike it would be a great start. Jim came out with a pike and started prodding around a hedgerow. At one point the pike came into contact with some iron object and my heart jumped for joy! He cleared around it and there the frame appeared with weeds and grass on it! To me, there was gold there! Jim pulled it out, cleared off the weeds and said “That’ll give you a good start!”
I put it on my shoulder and marched down the hill. There was a brass plate in front of the frame below the handlebars that was corroded from the weather. On the way down, I started cleaning that with scraws that I picked from the side of the road, and by the time I got home the brass plate was shining. And written on it was “Sunbeam” – that was the name of the bike. And that made my day!
I had the core of the bike, and that led on then to the other parts – chain wheel and chain. I got these from Seán Gunn who lived over the road. There was a bit of a tangle there, because Seán wanted a razor, and he knew my father had two of them, so I took one and gave it to him, and I got my chain and chain-wheel. Then, the back wheel I got from Paddy Connor who lived back the road at that time. He was from Ballyduff and was married to Jo Sheehy. He had a spare back-wheel and he kindly gave it to me. And he led me on to Seán Francis who had a front wheel, and now I was getting somewhere. I got a saddle from Paddy McNamara of Killomeroe – he used to ramble here because this was a rambling house. But I was short of two tyres and two tubes. The Dunlop “Cruiser” tyre (28X1.5) was a half-crown, the Dunlop “Champion” was four shillings, and the Dunlop “Roadster” was a shilling more – it was top of the range. So I started with my half-crown tyre, and bought two for five shillings, and two tubes for one and six apiece. I was craving off my mother for a long time and I eventually wore her down! My father wouldn’t listen to me. I got ten bob off her and I had three bob left and I decided to treat myself. I bought black jack and came home as happy as Larry! And Mrs Beasley, the shopkeeper, says to me before I left – “You’re lucky”, she says, “Tyres will be very scarce soon!” The war was about to start. The funny thing is during the war I had new tyres and lads that needed them more to go to work had no tyre!
I had no handlebars, so over at Boland’s I got the steering wheel of a Model Y (Baby Ford). I wedged it down and I had to do an improvised braking system.
“Jesus, a leanbh, you’ll watch where you’re going the next time!”
That bike took me to all the villages of North Kerry. One day I was going down Gunn’s Hill and just in front of Johanna Gunn’s, calves were being driven out on the road by one of the young Gunns. I thought I could avoid them, but I struck one of the calves and I got a fair oul fall. Johanna came out – she was a big, heavy woman, shoving on in years at the time , and she’d be a grandmother to Joe Gunn now and Fr Thady, and a great-grandmother to the priest, Fr David – and the first word she says to me was “Jesus, a leanbh, you’ll watch where you’re going the next time!” But after saying that, she carried me in and she washed my face which was all torn and made a good job and I went off out. The front wheel was bent and I put my bike on my shoulder and went home. Later I straightened it out.
The motoring world
Then I got to know people who were interested in mechanics, and they were few and far between. The Hennessys had a car, and then Bolands had a car, but there was no other car on the Hill. I had a motor-bike for a year, off of Timmy Stack in Ballyconry at £3. That took six month’s repairing to get her going, and that kept me going till 1949. In 1949, I bought my first Baby Ford Y, for £9 10s. I bought it off Breen’s, and ’twas Breen’s first sale, and that took a lot of repairs, mostly body-work. That got me into the motoring world, and that was over 60 years ago.
A place of tears
Seeing that there was no car on the Hill, there was one way of making a few bob. People wanted to go to wakes, funerals, christenings, etc, etc, and that filled a gap there. I did Cobh (Queenstown) when people were going to the States by ship. I did trips to Shannon Airport a number of times. It was a small place at the time, but it was a place of tears as far as I was concerned. People that were going were crying with sadness and people coming home were crying with happiness, and you wouldn’t know the difference between them. I did that for about two years with that car. After a while, I was able to better myself with a better Model Y Baby Ford. Those particular models were made between 1932 and 1937 and they were sold in Mangan’s in Listowel. A new two-door cost £120 and a four-door cost £140. (The model was changed in 1938 to a Ford 8.) The last two that were sold in Listowel were bought by John Guerin for £100 apiece from Moloney who had just bought the garage. John Guerin was a hackney-driver where the supermarket is now. These Fords were fantastic! You had the bare basics. God, everything was so simple! If you look at the electrics, they were a minimum. There was a vacuum wiper and if you were going up a hill, the wipers would slow down and probably stop. And no indicators!
All private cars were off the road during the war years till 1946, and no cars were made. People were slow to buy them. The first car the Bolands bought after the war was off Mrs Pierce in Listowel. They bought another one from Hart in Ballylongford – the late Liam Boland drove these cars.
Nobody seemed to encroach on my territory as regards my taxi-service. God, I carried hundreds! I carried everybody in every house. I carried a hundred people in one day to St Batt’s Well – that was the last Saturday in April. At that time there was a lot of water there and local people used to put rushes around the well. (Now it is beautifully done up, thanks to the local committee.) People used to come from Listowel and Ballylongford and the villages around.
“Mary, if you don’t help me…”
I think the most interesting journey I done was for a woman who lived along the road above. I took her into Listowel to have her first child and everything passed off fine. Listowel was a busy hospital at that time. In the meantime she changed houses and lived up in Ballynoneen. And so, two years later when her time came again, her husband came down over the Hill to me on his bike to take her to hospital. I was at a picture in Listowel and he waited in the house for me. When I came home, I tied up his bike on the car and we went up the Hill, and in a narrow little road where a car never went before to get into his house. I had to take her into the hospital alone at three o’clock in the morning. I went on by Ballybunion because it was the only road that was tarred at the time. When I was down at the Height of the Bogs, she says to me could I go any faster! I knew there was trouble brewing! Tyres were hard to get at the time, so I had gaitors on each tyre, and you could hear the thud-thud as they rotated. I was wondering if I would make the town without one of them bursting! A Mrs Scanlon of Glouria, who was a very holy woman, had given me a little illuminative statue of Our Lady and she told me to put that up in the front of the car and I would be protected, if I had devotion enough, wherever I went. So, just near the cross where the black house was, the railway house, I remember I looked up at the statue and I says, “Mary, if you don’t help me, I’ll never again pray to you!” Same as if I was talking to a priest!
So I continued on to Listowel, and up to the hospital and I jumped out of the car, knocked heavy on the door, and the night-nurse opened the door. She says “You’ll wake my patients!” I told her my story, that I had a lady here who was having a child and she gave one look and she came on with a wheelchair and we got Biddy in the chair. I had to push her down the hallway and the child came on the scene as I was pushing her! The nurse called another girl to help her . I heard what I thought was a cat screeching , and I realised it was the new-born baby! I vanished! I went in to my old car and I was just out to the railway gates when “bang” goes my back tyre! I looked up at the illuminative statue in front of me and I says “Thank you, Mary!” And we’re friends since!
That story is true but it was frightening to me, though!
In 1962 I gave up the hackney business and went back to farming.
by Virtual Gathering
It was while I was going to St Michael’s College in Listowel that I first noticed a girl called Peggy. She was going to the convent. I was always admiring her because she was always smiling! We used to meet casually coming and going on the street. She cycled to school. Then I used to meet her later at the dances when I started going at the age of seventeen or eighteen. I met her in Carroll’s Hall in Lisselton often. There was another hall at the Cross also but we kept to Carroll’s because we used to have the boxing there and Tom Carroll was into football.
Peggy went to school up the country and learned the trade of butter-maker. But before I met Peggy, I remember after coming home from America with a Palm Beach suit , which looked ridiculous in Ireland at the time, I busted my lip at a football match. I had to be taken to the doctor in Ballylongford to get stitches put in the lip. Afterwards, Liam Boland drove us to a pub. Jerry Molyneaux was there, and in the car also was Violet Nolan, “The Dawn Beauty”. But I didn’t go into the pub and was left in the car with Violet. Liam was vexed because Violet stayed in the car to look after me, but I couldn’t do much with my frozen lip anyway! Afterwards, Liam was still vexed and drove us all back to his own house and let us walk to our own homes! Jereen Molyneaux was mad and started firing stones all over the place! I was lucky because I had to walk Violet home! Later she went to America but she had bad luck because it didn’t agree with her at all, and she became very ill. But she and her sister, Bella, were lovely girls.
Ballybunnion
We used to be kicking ball in the field near the house on Sunday evenings in summer and we would look back towards Ballybunion and see the lights of Birds’ amusements and hear the music. You could hear sounds from a long distance away in those days. We would jump into the stream below the house and wash our face and dress up. We would put on open neck shirts and we’d head for Ballybunion. We used to walk down on one side of the street and salute the girls we fancied who were on the other side. Then we would walk back up and salute them again! Then we would come home quite contented, after six miles of a walk for nothing! Walsh’s Hall, and The Pavilion were big at the time and you could get a season ticket for one pound and ten shillings. The Pavilion very high-faluting and you wouldn’t want to let on to the lads that you were going there at all. And there were lots of tales going around about what went on inside. The Bolands and Pat Kissane played a trick on a fella in there one night. It was this fella’s first night in there and they led him into the women’s toilet! The women ran out screaming! He was so ashamed that he wouldn’t come out till Mike Ryan, who worked on the door, went in and brought him out!
Pat Crowley’s band used to come to play in Ballybunion. They were a beautiful band and played lovely romantic waltzes. You would have the thoughts of it coming home from the village. The fifteenth of August was big. There used to be crowds four or five abreast walking on the streets then. The priests sometimes tried to separate the men from the women! On one occasion a boy and a girl were walking up the street holding hands and a priest was walking down. The priest hit them with his cane on the hands and said “Don’t let me ever see you giving bad example like that again while I’m here in this town!”
Later I met Peggy again at a dance in Ballybunion. We got married in 1950. ’Tis one of the few dates I can remember! She had a car and it’s the only car I can remember the registration number of – IN 6630. When I’d see that car coming, my heart would give a jump! Peggy had her own sporting career as a camógie player with Kerry and in 1952 we both played for Kerry on the same day. I was playing for Kerry against Louth, and she was playing for Kerry against Waterford in Ballylongford. She was the star at centrefield. That must be unique for a husband and wife! She played for quite a while after we married, and I was training away with Kerry, and Dr Eamonn O’Sullivan was strict about training. This was awkward when you were trying to run a farm. I was training for boxing also.
We had eight children, four boys and four girls. Pat was the first-born, and then Dan, Betty, Norma, Mike, Bill, Jacqueline, and Annette was the youngest.
FARM WORK
The work was hard on the farm in my time. If the corn got lodged we used have to cut it with the scythe. John Galvin often did this. There was a great knack in cutting it. You’d cut it in against the crop and you’d leave it lie against the crop. Then it would be taken out in sheaves to be bound later. Sometimes, the lodged corn would be wet when it was being cut, and you’d get wet . It would be left out loosely to dry and afterwards put into stooks.
The thresher was a big event. Horses used to pull it. We used to have the threshing near Coneen Keane’s often because the horses couldn’t pull the thresher too far into the fields. Mickeen Bosco McMahon had the horse-drawn thresher and a tractor used be driven after it. Denis Foley over in Ballingown had a black mare which was pulling threshers all over the country. The thresher was a big heavy machine with big iron wheels. Some horses, when on the first pull they’d find the weight of the thresher, they’d rear up and back back. By night, storm-lanterns would be used and held by hand. There would be great tatteraah when threshing at night sometimes! The Bolands were the first I saw pulling the machine with a tractor.
We used to cut the hay with the horse-drawn mower, and the corn too. For the corn, we’d have an attachment with a kind of platform at the back of the cutting bar and the corn would fall back on it. The sheaf would be controlled by a man with a rake.
Any grain we had in the early days would be used at home. When my cows were taken the second time, I sat (sowed) all the place with corn. It turned out to be the worst year ever. The world ploughing match was held behind in Killarney. We had it in stooks and they were so wet they began to grow again because the weather was so bad we never got a chance to draw it.
We dug the well in Gort when I was young. They brought a blind man from the Knockanure side to divine for water. He found the spring on the dry side of the hill and it was only twelve or fourteen feet down. He got an awful fall while he was walking with the divining rod because he walked into a furze bush! Ned Healy over further must have dug a hundred wells in his time and never found water! Our well kept all the Hill going and it’s still going!
We had a lot of workers here. The first man I remember was Paddy O‘Donnell (Old John’s grandson), then Jackeen Horgan from the Hill. He later moved to The Switch below. Paddy Healy often helped us with the spuds. We used to take the board off the plough and you could plough the furrows . Tom Bawn used to work here also. Jereen Healy was a great hardy man who worked here a good while. We used to draw beet to Listowel one time and Jerry was as good as two of us, throwing in the beet with a beet-pike into the railway wagon after we tipped the load from our trailer. I remember he used to teach me maths while we were thinning beet! These were some of the men who worked with us in Urlee over the years, but many other good men and women worked here also.
Finucane Family
(Finucane family) to come.
(Part 4 of Mo Scéal Féin will be printed in the 2013 edition.)
by Virtual Gathering
Back in the 60s and 70s cutting the turf was something that went on for three weeks as it was mostly done by cómharing, this meant people helping each other with the task.First of all the bank was cleared, which meant removing the top layer of up to six inches down. For a household it took three to four days cutting with a sleán to secure enough turf for the winter. On high banks in Kilgarvan, six or seven sods in height, four men were needed to spread it far out on the bank – the sleánsman, the man piking after the sleán, the man branching and the man spreading. Depending on the weather, it could take three weeks as bad weather halted the progress.
A day in the bog also secured a good appetite, the tea and food seemed to take on a unique flavour. Conversation was plentiful, but should there be too much conversation the sleánsman could put an end to that by cutting quicker thereby not allowing any time for conversing. Good sleánsmen who come to mind that I have known in Kilgarvan bog are: Johnny Kennelly, Farnastack; Ned Lynch (RIP), Kilomeroe; Micheál Kissane (RIP), Kilgarvan; Joe Foley, Lyre; brothers, Jack and William Walsh (RIP), Guhard; Tom O’Connor (RIP), better known as “Big Tom”, Guhard South; Paddy J. O’Connor (RIP), Guhard South and Mick Walsh, Guhard South and not least of all, myself!
The important thing in high bog was to keep a nice slope to the bank and to have a nice sleán. There could be a bit of fun in the bog also. One evening, Denis “The Black” Dowling (RIP) and Jack Walsh came to the bog. Denis shouted over to me, “ is there any chance you would dance a couple of Jerry Molyneaux’s steps up on the high bog”. I said I would if he was able to lilt it. He did it in style and I danced a couple of steps of a hornpipe wearing a pair of wellingtons and we had an audience within minutes.
Nowadays with the turf-cutting machine and Hymac, what was a week’s work with a sleán is reduced to a couple of hours.
In my time a day in the bog meant long hours of work. Now the highlight of the Seán McCarthy Weekend and The Dan Paddy Andy Festival is the walk and then the tea in the bog.
How times have changed!
by Virtual Gathering
The Central Ballroom, Ballybunion
In 1954/55 Matt O’Sullivan returned from England to Ballybunion and he bought the Central Hotel. He had a vision and that vision was a ballroom, so he proceeded to build a ballroom where the Golf Hotel now stands. Before this was built dancing took place at the Pavillion/Ballerina occupied now by an amusement centre.
The Central Ballroom in Ballybunion was opened on the 29th of June 1956. The opening of this establishment was the main topic of conversation by the people of North Kerry and West Limerick. I believe that there was a little bit of opposition from an English band, namely Pete Roxburgh’s, but the opening went ahead and the ballroom was opened on the said date by Pete Roxburgh and guest, singing celebrity Joseph Locke. The scenes on the night were covered by the Kerryman and it estimated that 10,000 people turned up on the night.
Pete Roxburgh played for some time during that summer but the band broke up. This proved to be a godsend for the Maurice Mulcahy band from Michelstown and they made their first appearance in the Central on Saturday night the 8th September. The band then got a three-month stint in the following years starting in June and finishing the week of the Listowel races. This continued until the mid-1970s. Maurice Mulachy and his band stayed in Ballybunion for the duration of the summer. Their families also stayed. Their signature tunes were “From a Jack to a King” “Falling in love” and “Magic Moments”.
The cost of a season ticket was three pounds and ten shillings. These tickets did not cover you on a benefit night when you had to pay. Dancing was for three nights a week in the month of June and seven nights during July and August. In July, a bus-load of women would arrive to Ballybunion and the local men would dance the summer away with them.
In 1968 Matt O’Sullivan’s son, Kenneth, acquired the Central and he built a new ballroom at the back of the existing one and had the hotel demolished. This new ballroom was opened in 1968. The late Bill Fitzgerald was working at the ticket office and he estimated that approximately 3,000 patrons passed through the door some nights. There was no alcohol served in the Central, just a mineral-bar. The most popular mineral sold was “Pep Apple Juice”. This was made in Brosna. The takings from the mineral-bar paid for the running expenses of the hall. The order of romance was a few dances, an offer of a mineral and sometimes a coffee and a Club Milk at Danna’s, then on to the Castle Green for that moonlight walk and a glimpse of heaven, if one was lucky enough!
The door manager was for a time was Victor Rattory, while The Ball Connor, Jack Savage, and John Rohan also worked there. Jet Costello was the floor maintenance man. His duty was to keep the floors polished.
The Central Ballroom has become part of Ballybunion folklore. Even as the people who danced there grow older, the photographs and accounts like these will keep the folklore alive for future generations.
by Virtual Gathering
In 1934 when Lisselton Creamery opened first, there were 364 farmers bringing milk. They were short one for every day of the year! There had been a creamery years before at Lisselton Cross where the car sales premises are now, and there had been a creamery at the Switch in Francis’s Field. The Lartigue ran beside it. There was another one at the Store Height on the left going over the Chapel Road in the old days. There was the Travelling Creamery in the 1950s and later. It was a big lorry which came to the creameries and collected milk.
My days in the creamery started on Friday, May 15th, 1965. It was a good day to start – at the end of the week – but I had to work all the weekend.
I got the job through Richard O’Connor (RIP). He owned a shop across from the creamery and was a good neighbour and friend of mine. He told me to go to Kit Ahern (RIP) in Ballybunion. I had no car so Richard drove me to see Kit, who said she would let me know the following week. She contacted my mother then and said there was a vacancy coming up and that Bill Hartnett (RIP), the manager, would call me. And he did and so off I went to Lisselton Creamery. Nobody from the family before had worked in the creamery. I was throwing in the milk there and was there for only a few months. I wasn’t going to stay at all in the start. I found it very hard. But I got used to it and loved it there after a while. It was a dangerous job with the acid and the caustic. Nitric acid and caustic were used for cleaning the pipes and sulphuric acid for testing the milk. A drop of milk was put into the sulphuric and it would tell what percentage of cream was in the milk. I got burned twice with acid. It burned through my trousers and left its mark.
Then I spent four years going around to the branches. I used to drive to different creameries where I was driving the forklift, painting, unloading manure and covering for holidays and sick leaves. I went to most of the branches during these years and worked with six or seven managers.
After a while I was moved to Coolbeha. I used to have to get up at half-past five in the morning. An early rise! My Dad was alive at the time and he used to call me. I bought an Anglia car with a ZX registration. I had it for about a year and a half and then I bought a Mini from Horan’s who had come to Listowel. I got a loan of £200 off the Dairy Disposal Board and the creamery manager assured the Board that I wouldn’t go off once I got the loan! Later, in the 1970s, I had a Vauxhall.
In Coolbeha there wouldn’t be time for a morning break as I was feeding coal into the boiler. When a farmer arrived with the new milk, it often took three men to lift the tanks and pour it in. The fella before and after him would give him a hand. The milk was then separated and the cream would go into separate containers. The skimmed milk would go into different containers and then given out to the farmers who fed calves with it. We had an hour for lunch from one till two. I used to come home from Coolbeha for my lunch most of the time. In the afternoons I used to tidy up the stores and the yard and organising the manure for the next day. When I started first we used to finish at a quarter to six. Then later that was changed to half-five and then to five o’clock. Babe Dowling had a shop across the fence from the creamery and people did their shopping there. I spent nine years in Coolbeha Creamery.
After Coolbeha I came back to Lisselton Creamery and spent twenty years there. There were 230 farmers bringing milk there at that time. I can remember the farmers who had donkeys and carts. I remember John Costello (RIP) from Ballyegan had one. I remember Paddy Henchy (RIP) from The Hill and John Healy (RIP) and others who brought their milk in those days. Mattie Deenihan back the road used always have a chat. Max Feeney (RIP) used to come for Mick Finucane and was very witty. One day I said to him “You didn’t throw out all the milk!” and Max said to me “What about the cats!” Mike Nolan and John McMahon were regulars. A few women used to come to the creamery and I remember Peggy Finucane (RIP) well. There was also a woman from Coolard, Mrs Moriarty (RIP) who used to come with a donkey. Seán Deenihan (RIP), and Paddy Sullivan (RIP) from Lacca were among the others I saw every day. All the farmers were nice to me. Meeting the farmers was great every day and having the craic!
There were a lot of horses before the tractors were used and then the cars came with the car-trailers. They were the worst because they were too low and you would have to bend down to lift them up. In the finish they had bulk tanks. At a later stage we had two “soakers” in Lisselton. These were big tubes that sucked the milk out of the tanks and there was no need then to lift them up.
The creamery book was an important item for every farmer as it kept an account of the milk given in, as well as butter given out by the creamery. These were green and every farmer had his own number. Every month then the creamery cheque was issued and that was very important! It was a long time though to wait for many farmers! The manager and myself used to get the cheques ready, and it took a long time to do this. You would be working on them till seven in the evening sometimes.
There was manure sold at the creamery also – Pasture Sward, Cut Sward and Nitrogen.The creamery manager was an important man. I worked with a lot of them. Bill Fitzgerald (RIP) was in Lisselton and Coolbeha and was a very nice man. I worked with Paddy Dowling (RIP) in Kilcolman; Jimmy Hanrahan (RIP) in Ballylongford, and Tony Sullivan in Tarbert. The people who worked with me at the creamery in Lisselton were lovely. I worked with Tony Mason (RIP), Willie Dee (RIP), Dave O’Sullivan (RIP), Eamon Holly and Paddy Halloran.
My daughter Eileen used to help me during summer holidays in the later years, answering the phone and coding products. Even though she didn’t get paid, she loved it and it gave her great experience. When some people would ring up and hear Eileen’s voice, they would hang up because they thought there was no woman working in the creamery! The phone number of the creamery was (068) 47104.
I was a store manager for the last years as there was a farm shop opened and we sold all sorts of items for farmers.
My own last day at the creamery was June 12th, 1998. I became very ill and I was sent to the hospital. I am the last permanent employee in Lisselton Creamery. I had spent thirty three years and one month working at the creameries altogether. I missed it a lot.
The creamery closed down for good on June 1st, 2001… and for me, it was the end of an era!
