by Jack Lynch
We were pretty much left alone there as children and learned to fend for ourselves. Unlike today our parents didn’t have the time to watch over us every minute and we did sometimes get into trouble but we learned to rescue ourselves. Once, aged ten, I was practising my swimming during full tide when I accidently went outside my depth, by about one foot. I was directly under the arch and suddenly I realised how far out I was and panicked. I tried to catch a shackle that was fixed to the sidewall of the arch, the shackle was about four inches above my arm’s length, and as I stretched, I missed and immediately went under the water. Nobody apparently noticed. When I reached the bottom I had the sense to hold my breath and started to walk under the water. However, I soon realised I was going out, away from shore, instead of in towards the slipway. I turned and kicked upwards to the surface. My lungs were bursting, air was escaping in large bubbles, and I was feeling faint. I let out the remainder of air as I came up. Once I broke the surface I gasped for air, and shouted, which only made me take in more dirty salty water before going down again. I kept my composure and I did not panic this time but kicked upwards and towards the shore. When I resurfaced my nose was just about over the water, with my feet on stones and I struggled ashore. The episode frightened me, but did not deter me from swimming there again. Neither did it affect my desire to go to sea years later.
Daddy used to worry about our antics at times but often took us to Cork on the train, where he treated us to cream cakes and lemonade, called Tanora, in the Tivoli Restaurant, in Patrick’s Street. Then he used to take us for Polar ice cream in the South Mall. We loved this day out. The ice cream was twice the normal size, but when I look back it was not creamy like ice-cream is today. It was just iced milk but at the time it was great value and we loved it.
One thing that frightened me when I first went on trains as a young lad was the noise as the train approached Fota station. Sections of humped backed iron bridge rose up and then down, up and down and the hollow sound of steel over the bridge made me shiver. I could not understand why this should be. I thought there was some kind of monster outside the train. I remember ducking, and hiding, and it took a few trips for me to get used to this odd happening.
As a father Daddy could be very strict. We all felt his hand, or the strap, at some time. Occasionally, he had spells of bad temper and he acted impulsively. Three instances come to mind. Once was when he cleared out the pantry to build a shower. I was the recipient of his impatience. He passed three heavy books to me and one slipped to the floor. He picked it up and threw it back to me and it hit me on the nose, drawing blood. He immediately repented and calmed down. He must have had something on his mind, because he did not always react like this.
Another instance of his temper was when I heard Anthony getting a beating. He was upstairs in the top bedroom and Daddy was laying into him. I ran up and was just in time to see daddy with his arm over his head, holding an electric flex cable, ready to bring it down on Anthony’s back. I immediately grabbed the flex, from behind daddy’s back, and stopped him hitting Anthony. I was expecting a rebuke, or punishment, but daddy just lowered his head and left the room. That flex was never again used in the house. I never did ask, or was told, why Anthony was being punished.
Eileen also felt the outburst of his temper. He once caught her mitching, or langing, from school and broke an umbrella across her back. Langing was a Cork colloquial expression for bunking off school. Sometimes we deserved to be chastised, but other times he got it wrong. Anyway, it did not do us any harm. Within our family, nobody held grudges.
Amongst the many great memories I have of my childhood are the times that the Circus came to town. Duffy’s Circus was a regular visitor to our town. The big parade was led by a number of elephants and clowns, followed by horses and caged lions, tigers, and other jungle animals. Music blared, and it seemed all the children in town followed the circus. The tents were pitched up in O’Reilly’s field, at ‘Top O’ the Hill.’ They were packed out for all performances, and the clowns were exceptional. The smell of the animals, and their droppings, outside the big tent was really strong. The noise of screaming monkeys, and the roaring of lions and tigers was terrifying when we walked close to the cages. When we sauntered amongst these cages it was nearly as good as going into the circus. Sometimes, we paid to get in, and other times we tried to sneak in under the canvas.
Other interesting memories include watching O’Reilly’s horse drawn, two-wheel breadbox which was a common sight around town, as fresh bread was delivered daily. This van was beautifully decorated, with the name ‘O’Reilly’s Bread’ painted on the sides. The driver sat on an open seat, on the front of this box. The seat was high up and he was exposed to the elements at all times. Bread had to be delivered at all costs. Thompson’s bakery also supplied bread. Wooden racks were used to deliver bread from the van to the shop. There was no protective covering on the bread so the wonderful smell of fresh bread wafted out and made my mouth water. I loved the ‘heel,’ which is the crusty end piece of the bread. The more burned and crusty it was, the better I liked it.
The most common form of transport for getting around the town then was a bicycle. Bicycles had carbide lamps, and there was a foul smell from them. As far as I can remember, a piece of carbide was immersed in water and an inflammable gas was created and lit. With the aid of a reflector, behind a glass window, it provided enough light for the cyclist to be seen. Jarvey cars and horse carts had these lanterns pre-electric power. The Jarvey cars and Side cars or Jaunting cars, were the horse drawn, two-wheeled vehicles used to transport people before taxis became available. In the film ‘The Quiet Man,’ John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara sat in one with Barry Fitzgerald acting as their Chaperone.
Down in West Beach, near the White Star offices, the Jarveys lined up with the Jaunting cars. There were up to six at any one time and all the owners used to stand around chatting, smoking, and drumming up business; particularly when liners and trains arrived. Close by, was a public toilet for men and this smelled to high heaven.
Three of the Jarveys that I remember were owned by Michael Halligan, Joe Twomey, and Walter Barry. The Halligan and Twomey families also had an undertaking business and their horse drawn hearses were common sights around town. The black horses were beautifully groomed and had their hooves blackened for the occasion. Later, Barrys became undertakers too and the three families also ran taxi services.
Further along by the camber there was a steel horse trough and this had a small trough low down at its side for dogs. Often both types of animals drank water side by side to quench their thirst. Nearby, was the mobile coffee hut where people gathered on regatta days and on Sundays. It was beautifully painted and maintained and it was where people were able to buy non-alcoholic drinks, sweets, and biscuits. Apparently the reason that it was on wheels was to avoid paying taxes, as it was not classed as a fixed building. It was moved backwards and forwards about six inches each year to avoid paying these taxes. In the camber nearby there were many boats and one named “Kathleen” was owned by Ruby Robinson and he used to take supplies out to the lighthouse. Many locals got free trips from him.
CHAPTER SIX
Besides enjoying myself all the family still had to obey the laws of the Catholic Church. As I got older I began realise and understand how the Church ruled our lives. Church laws defined how and when sex should be carried out and we accepted that, to a certain degree, without question. The laws of the church in this country have, for hundreds of years, governed both the private and public lives of its people and the issue of sex was one of the most fiercely governed. According to the Catholic Church, then and even now, sex was not for pleasure, but for procreation. This meant natural birth control was the only accepted practice during the so called, ‘safe period,’ in a woman’s cycle. According to the church, sex for pleasure was wrong and had to be avoided, under pain of mortal sin, unless it was carried out as church laws defined it.
The churching of women who had give
n birth was given by the Church, to mothers who had recovered from childbirth. It was a form of purification and thanksgiving for the woman who had recovered from bearing a child. The woman had to be catholic and married first off. She had to assure the church that her baby was not baptised outside the Roman Catholic Church. It was not classed as a precept, but as a pious and praiseworthy custom. At the end of the ceremony the woman usually left a half-crown, (two shillings and sixpence, old money) on the altar rails, in thanksgiving. It was always accepted that that any service performed by the church should be paid for, even if it was not compulsory. The shame attached to not paying was not worth the cost to pride, even to poor people. The church preached for large families and then charged the women for hearing the message. For some reason, a woman back then did not attend her own baby‘s baptism and christening. I think this too was a church law. Baptism was mandatory in the church, to cleanse the soul of new infants. The sin that needed to be expunged was ‘Original sin,’ which had been committed by Adam and Eve, when Adam ate the forbidden fruit. If a person died without being baptised then, according to the Church, their souls would go to ‘Limbo’ and not directly to heaven. I believed all these things growing up, there was no question of not believing them, and the power of the Church was so total. Later in life concerns about what happened to the babies’ souls that were not baptised troubled me greatly. .
The half-crown that was the usual charge for a baptism in those days was a lot of money, compared to the wages earned. My siblings and I were born in the late 1920’s and through the 1930’s during the world depression. Money was scarce. In old money, a half-crown was worth thirty pence. You could get into the cinema for four pence, get a pack of ten Players cigarettes for six pence, five woodbines for two pence, a bag of ten sweets cost a half penny, and a pint of warm Guinness cost six pence. So the cost of purifying a woman’s soul was five packs of Player’s cigarettes or five pints of Guinness
In my time babies were baptised at the back of the church, not the front. This was also where the bodies of the faithful were left to repose in a mortuary after their death; they remained at the back of the church, and were not given the dignity to be allowed up to the altar. Mass and services for the dead were performed in the Mortuary. Both of my parents suffered this indignity. To the best of my recollection the corpses of the clergy were the only ones who were allowed up to the altar where religious services were performed for them. The body of the church is where the people practised their faith. I suppose, it had to do with the original design of the Church. Back in the old days, the Church was untouchable, and its word was law. There are catholic cemeteries, still in use today, where unbaptised babies were buried in un-consecrated ground. I don’t know if these graves have now been consecrated. These differences, between those given the honour and dignity of consecration and respect and those not, were common throughout the system. As a family, when we went to mass we were separated across the aisle. Men occupied the left aisles and women occupied the right aisles. Thank God this nonsense no longer continues and today we live more like Christ showed us. In those days women had to have their heads covered when entering the church and men had bare heads.
There were a lot of holy pictures around homes in those days, as there were statues of the Blessed Virgin, Infant of Prague, Sacred Heart and St. Patrick. At the front door there was a little Holy Water holder and we had to dip our finger in it and make the sign of the cross as we entered, and left, the house. At Easter, we got the specially blessed Holy Water from the church. Sprigs of palm were in vases during Easter too. Most houses had firm religious beliefs and convictions. Children grew up with a sense of security and Christian love. Little oil lamps with crosses constantly burned in most houses in honour of the Sacred Heart. Daddy used to splash holy water over us, for any reason, as there was plenty of it available and it was free of charge.
The Eucharistic Procession was held in Cobh every year in June. This was the big outdoor religious ceremony of the year. We prepared long and hard for it and we collected all kinds of bunting, banners, statues, holy pictures, flowers, jam jars, plus any coloured paper we could lay our hands on to decorate the house for the occasion. The walls of the road were whitewashed in honour of the day and all kinds of greenery were tied to lampposts and railings to beautify the streets, especially on the route of the procession. Street windows were turned into grottos and altars and banners were strung across the roads. Our banner read ‘Jesus, be not to me a judge, but a Saviour.’ We filled jam jars with wild flowers and green weeds and these were placed every ten feet or so along the footpath. All in all, the whole presentation was sublime. Our street was one of the main routes for the procession and we were always proud of its appearance.
Usually, Benediction took place at the Bench; which was the large junction between four streets and overlooked the Harbour. During the procession, all the congregation split up into their own groups; Confraternity, Legion of Mary, Pioneer Total Abstinence, School classes, First Communion, Confirmation and general public. The Bishop, Archdeacons, Canons and Priests came from the whole Diocese of Cloyne and the altar boys and Nuns were there in full regalia. Amongst these groups were various brass and reed bands and bagpipes. It was difficult at times to follow which hymn to sing, as each band had its own programme and they did not always combine for the same hymn and if they did they were out of time with each other. Amongst the Pioneer Total Abstinence group it was not unusual to see a few well-known characters who knew most of the local pubs, inside and out. We laughed a lot when we saw them but they ignored the banter. Usually, the day was sunny and everybody was uplifted at the end of it all. On the few occasions, due to weather conditions when it was necessary to cancel the outdoor procession, it took place around the cathedral grounds.
I was an altar boy in St. Colman’s cathedral for a number of years in the late 1930’s. One evening during October devotions, amidst the waft of incense and the sound of the organ playing, I was situated at the side alter, where hundreds of candles were alight in candelabras. These were spread on the altar and on the floor. Suddenly, I felt heat and found that the beautiful lace on my Alb (Surplice) sleeve was on fire. I quenched it quickly but there was a bit of confusion for a while in the congregation. It meant I had to have repairs to my Alb. The Alb or Surplice was white, with laced design on both sleeves, and was worn over the cassock. As far as I knew a lady named Mrs. Keating used to do the lacework for all the priests and altar boys. One of her sons was an altar boy with me and another was in my class at the National school, nicknamed ‘The Nash.’
One day, whilst playing in front of my house, I unexpectedly got a message from one of the lead altar boys that Fr. Tim Murphy, the priest in charge of the altar boys, wanted to see both me and Denis O’Kane. Denis and I were close friends, and neighbours. When we got to the sacristy the Priest took a bamboo cane from under his cassock and accused us of eating nuts in the church during evening devotion. He ordered us to take down our trousers to receive punishment for this alleged offence. I deny to this day that we were eating anything and I believe it was the Bishop’s two spinster relatives who reported us. Fr. Tim Murphy whacked us anyway when we refused to take our trousers down and we ran out of the Sacristy with him chasing us. Daddy was fuming when I told him and he went up straightaway to the Priest and in no uncertain language told him what he thought of him, and also told him that I would not be returning to serve under him again. Neither Denis, nor I, returned to serve Mass again.
Outside of being an altar boy I got up for eight o’clock mass each weekday morning with the family and we washed in cold water in the backyard, winter and summer, to prepare for it. I ran up to mass, rushed home for breakfast, and then rushed back uphill to school for nine am. The school was about a half mile from our house and was at the ‘Top O’ the Hill.’ Cobh is a town of many hills and ‘Top O the Hill’ is a well known local area. It was tough going and I could not dodge going to mass because daddy always attended, and he could see
me in the church. Sometimes, for evening devotions, I went to the church and waited at the back until daddy arrived. I made sure he saw me and then I’d scarper out, to rush down to the cinema to see my favourite films. The cinema filled quickly so I had to be early, otherwise I’d miss the show.
I had to attend evening devotions on a regular basis. These included Sunday Compline, which is the last service of the day in the church. Men’s Confraternity was on Tuesday. Daddy was Prefect and I was unilaterally promoted his second in command, without being asked and without opposition. We wore Green ribbons around our necks with a medal attached. The Prefect wore a red ribbon. I kept the attendance records and diligently marked them in a book each week. This book was returned to the sacristy after devotions. Each street had its own section, so each individual was familiar to me. They would be too embarrassed to miss attending without good reason as those who missed would inevitably be observed by the some eagle-eyed parishioners who noticed their absence. The women held their Confraternity on Mondays. The ‘Holy Hour’ was held every first Friday of each month in the church and at home. There were various feast days, novenas, and annual mission visits which had to be observed. Weekly confession was a necessary obligation. There were the ‘Stations of the Cross’ and we had to do these on a regular basis, particularly around October and November as far as I remember.
We also had special appeals for the Black Babies, as poor children in Africa were termed then. We adopted them by the hundreds, by paying into collections and savings. There were regular appeals by missions for funds. Children in school contributed their fair share. Things haven’t changed in that respect and I recall my own children doing similar charity work in their school days.