by Jack Lynch
When I wanted a change I progressed to conger eel fishing. There were always eels where there were mackerel. Their targets were the mackerel. There were some special places where I could get good big congers. Usually, there was a hole or hiding place underwater where they congregated. I used to throw out mackerel heads and this brought the congers nearby very quickly. I fished for them in the Camber inlet located down the Holy Ground, in Lynch’s Quay, and off the deepwater quay. Sometimes, I tried the Bath’s quay. I caught them in all areas. Some were up to seven feet long and had vicious mouths of teeth, which I avoided at all costs. They could inflict a nasty wound, or could even bite the hand off you. When I got them to the edge of the quay, I jammed the gaff into their mouths to keep them shut. This a long stick with a metal hook for landing large fish. Then I avoided the thrashing body and removed the fishing hook. Next, I threw the conger over my shoulder with the gaff still attached, winding him as he landed on the quayside. I used to then club him to stun him and finally, with a knife, I severed the spinal cord. This was necessary, as I could not take any chances with this fish. I saw one, its head almost severed, grab a piece of three-inch wood and sink its teeth into it. It did not let go until it died.
Daddy used his initiative to create unique fishing bait. When he saw any horses left by farmers outside Mackey’s’ pub, he would go up to the horses and cut off some of the horse’s tail hairs to make bait. He tied the hair to hooks, with beads which he pinched from my sister’s necklaces. He had some great success with this and caught dogfish, pollock and mackerel at Lynch’s Quay. Mackerel were suckers for any bait and virtually gave themselves up. Sometimes, he did not arrive home until after one a.m. and mammy often asked me to go and check that he had not fallen into the sea. When I would arrive down in the middle of the night to find him still fishing he would welcome me casually and tell me to sit down for a while. He would take a packet of Player’s cigarettes from his pocket and light up. He didn’t smoke much, and certainly was not addicted. When he finished the fag, he gathered his fishing rod and any fish and we’d head off home. It was usually about two a.m. by the time we returned.
Our next-door neighbours at No. 34 were the Barry family. There were five siblings living there; Charlie, Frank, and their sisters; Winnie, Chrissie, and a third whose name escapes me. Two of the sisters lived in America. One was secretary to Henry Ford and the other worked with very famous American actresses. Nobody in the family of five was married and all were heavy smokers. I heard them coughing and spluttering all the time. They had brown nicotine marks on their fingers and upper lips. Frank was the worst addict and when he coughed it was frightening.
He kept greyhounds in a shed at the back of his yard. This shed overlooked the roof of our shed. These animals created all kinds of noise and on one occasion they got out onto our shed. Since our shed roof was sloping corrugated iron they found it hard to hold their footing and kept howling, and barking until they were eventually shepherded back by Frank. He used to rub foul smelling stuff on the dogs to prevent, or cure, distemper. I hated that smell when they passed me. He used to boil sheep’s heads for them too. The combination of smells from there was awful.
Frank was a Petty Officer in the Coastal Patrol during the war and was a survivor of the ill-fated disaster of the ‘Irish Popular’ in Cork Harbour, when a number of people were drowned. Charlie served tea, sandwiches, and other items on the tenders that which serviced the liners. My sister Sheila did cleaning for him on these trips but he never gave her one-penny for her efforts. She did not mind much though as she got trips to the liners which she loved. Apparently, Charlie sobbed and cried openly when Mammy died. He was very fond of her and brought her soup from time to time. Chrissie Barry also did Bed and Breakfast for people going to the USA. When they had an overflow they sometimes asked mammy to put up some of the emigrants with a bed and they would continue to supply the breakfast. In our house they only got a large bowl and a jug of cold water for their washing needs. Charlie opened a small library. The family also had a Shell petrol pump outside the house.
Anthony told me he was down in the Bath’s Quay one day, when he looked back up towards our house. There was a young woman standing at the upstairs window upstairs in Barrys’ house and she was completely nude and kept waving at him. She seemed to enjoy teasing him. Ask him how he felt - he certainly did not move from this vantage spot too quickly!
One day my sister Nora got a call from Miss Barry to say her sister had died. She asked Nora to assist her as friends were calling for the wake. Nora got into her best Sunday finery to help and greet the friends. When ready, she called next door to Miss Barry, where she was greeted with a welcome and told how good she was for offering to help.
“What would like me to do? How can I help?” Nora asked
Miss Barry replied, “Nora, would you polish the brass work and scrub the front door step for me?”
Nora was stunned and went back home, muttering under her breath, and changed back into her work clothes. It was far from prayers she was muttering under her breath! When she returned and completed the job Miss Barry searched around and produced a bottle of Gin and said to Nora; “Thanks, Nora, you’ve been very good. Now we’ll have a little drink.”
Nora told her that she did not drink spirits and Miss Barry squinted at the bottle and exclaimed; “Where did that come from?”
She then produced a bottle of sherry and they both had a drink. Nora felt enough was enough and said she was going home. Winnie asked her to come back later, to wake her up if she fell asleep as she had to meet somebody three hours later. Nora duly called in to the house and there was Winnie fast asleep with the Gin bottle lying nearby. Nora tried for a half hour to wake her up; pushing, shoving and shouting… but all to no avail. Eventually, Nora gave up, said “feck her” and returned home. When Nora told me this story I laughed and jokingly told Nora that she was too soft. However, The Barry family were good neighbours and often did favours for my family.
Often, we Lynches would have baths in Barrys as we did not have the luxury of a bath in our own house. One day daddy arranged for us all to go in next door for our baths. Seniority was invoked unfortunately for us little ones! First in was daddy, to lounge and soak in the clean soapy water, followed by mammy, into the same water. Eileen and I were next to share the by now slightly murky bath water. We were young then but I can still remember the water was tepid, almost cold, when we got into it. Four people bathed for the price of one - economy!
Growing up in Cobh one of the most important events of the year were the pre war Regattas held on the 15th August. They were never to be forgotten events. Returning immigrants on holiday and people from all over the county came to enjoy the festivities and fireworks. There was nothing to match that day throughout the year.
In the daytime it cost six pence to enter the Promenade in order to see and hear the bands playing in the lovely bandstand, and to watch various events, including the greasy pole. This was a long pole extended over the water from the adjacent pier. The pole was covered in grease, all the way from top to bottom. The challenge was for fellows to get on the pole at the pier and try to wriggle out as far as possible without falling into the sea. It was such a sight! Sometimes pillow fights took place too at this event and these were hilarious. It was great fun and every year the same fellows tried again, and again, with no success. Some fellows nearly lost their manhood as they gamely tried to get to the end of the pole. Girls also had a go with the same inevitable results – ending up in the cold sea, soaking and laughing as the rest of the town watched from the quayside.
From the vantage of the Promenade, we had a first rate view of the fireworks which were set off at ten p.m. on the Quay. It was also a great vantage point from which to watch boats and yachts racing. The four man plus coxswain crews in gigs from Whitepoint and Rushbrooke went head to head for honours. Crews from the Bench and Carrigaloe also participated. Others who took part later were Crosshaven and St. Finbarrs. The races started at
the Hulk, near Cuskinny, and ended up at the Promenade. We all had our own favourites and cheered them home. Whitepoint was my team. The Geary brothers of Carrigaloe were also very good too though. Other oared boats which raced were; yawls, punts, and paired whaleboats. Lots of locals took part in all types of races. The sea and every imaginable activity that could take part on it were such a large part of life in Cobh.
During the regatta British Royal Navy warships and other vessels were festooned with flags and lights. In the evening searchlights blazed into the night sky from ships and Forts. Liners or other ships in port did their share of celebrating by decorating and blowing their hooters. These scenes were also repeated on New Year’s Day. The British navy certainly knew how to set off a fireworks display. It was breathtaking. Royal Navy destroyers from England shipped all the fireworks in for the occasion. As part of the celebrations the regatta even had an annual Beauty Queen crowning. The first that I remember was Helen Halligan. She was the sister of Michael, who was in my class in school. They came from a family of undertakers. For the celebrations the town was decked out with bunting, flags and other decorations. Shops, stalls, and other vendors did a roaring trade then. There were bands and singing, as well as talent competitions all day long. The regatta brought all kinds of new people to Cobh. Sieks with their turban covered heads and leather suitcases used to come and sell their silks and tapestries during regatta time. We were quite frightened of them at the beginning, mainly because of their dark skin and beards but ultimately found them to be quiet people who just went about their business. ‘Shawlees’, Cork City women who normally traded on stalls in the Coal Quay in the City and who wore their black shawls over their heads, arrived in force in their charabancs. Soon they were in full bartering and bantering mood. Many of these older women dyed their hair black by using black ink and when it rained their faces were a mess of black streaks. They were good fun though.
The Tinkers fascinated us when they came around, mending pots, pans, and any utensils made of tin. They would do the work on the footpath and were excellent tradesmen. No such thing as begging with these lovely people. They worked hard for a living.
Jewish men also visited the town and daddy did business with one of them once during the insurance agents strike. When the strike happened and daddy couldn’t work there were no wages coming into the house and though Daddy did not want to go on strike at the same time he did not want to be known as a ‘blackleg.’ A ‘blackleg’ was a union person who broke ranks and continued to work whilst his friends stayed out on strike. Anyway, he had to sell the chandelier, dining room suites, piano, briefcase, brass weighing scales, and various other items to the Jewish man to keep his family fed. This was around the depression of the thirties and a very hard time for everyone.
When we were very young we watched the regatta from the bedroom window but later, when we were old enough we enjoyed being part of it all down on the quay with the happy throngs of people. When we were older still and in our teenage years we particularly enjoyed the regatta for all the Cork girls who came to Cobh each year for the festival!
At the 1935 Regatta four hundred balloons were released into the sky. Each balloon was sold in advance and the buyer could attach their name and address to the balloon. Daddy bought some balloons for all of us and we excitedly released them. There was a prize for the one which was picked up furthest from Cobh. If memory serves me correctly, one got as far as Germany and another reached France! We didn’t have any luck though.
Daddy’s clever initiative often came to the fore around this time when he would brainstorm new ideas to profit from the festivities of the regatta. He owned a beautiful one metre long model yacht, which had Bermuda rig and one year he painted white with ‘Valspar’ paint. He now got the bright idea to get the company, ‘Valspar’, to sponsor the yacht in a race to be held in Cork Harbour on Regatta day. He even named the yacht ‘Valspar’. Unfortunately his idea didn’t float and he didn’t get the sponsorship, and I’m not sure if he even got a reply. He was a cute and crafty man who always said; ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained’. As far as the race went I can only remember daddy tying the tiller, a precursor to the more modern autopilot, and the yacht going off in the opposite direction, with us frantically chasing it in a punt.
The arrival of the amusements at regatta time was one of the biggest joys for children, and indeed some adults. I loved the Bumpers and the Shooting Gallery’ Sometimes, I went on the Chair O’ Planes and had lots of fun catching the chair in front of me and kicking it forward and up. This was often done to me and it was thrilling. There were also the Swing Boats, which were great. I remember, one time, wearing out the seat out of my trousers from going on all the rides and having the embarrassing time of trying to get home unobserved, with a large hole in my trousers and no underwear.
During the daytime people enjoyed lovely recitals on the Cathedral Carillon, by Dr. Staff Gebruers, Snr. The Cork Butter Exchange Band was one of a number of bands which played regularly in the bandstand, in the Promenade, during the Regattas.
On some Regatta days a cycle race was held and this started at the Post Office on West Beach and finished back there after the cyclists had raced out the Lower Road and back via the High Road. It was very exciting as it was open to all to take part in. One winner I remember was Mr Dudley Balburnie - Bal as I knew him - who later guided me to my future career as a Marine Radio Officer.
Another gruelling cycle race also took place around this time. This race was an endurance test and the object was to find the cyclist who could climb the Barrack Hill on a bike in the fastest time. From a push start, at Frennets’ cinema, the cyclist had to cycle to the top of this steep hill. It was breathtaking to watch one fellow after another as they tried to negotiate this enormous task. Some took it straight; others zigzagged to lessen the steepness of the hill. Few achieved it. One who did was Ronnie Twomey, a member of the Cove Boxing Club.
One very sad personal memory for my family is always tied up in those of Regatta day. It was the day before Regatta day that my baby brother, Jeremiah, died of cardiac failure, 14th August 1939. He was only fifteen months old. I can remember to this day how I found out;
Daddy’s crying awakened me. I heard him call mammy and say; “Mammy, God has taken him from us.” I got up and went down to the bedroom and there was this lovely little boy, only fifteen months old, at peace. We all cried together. We had a cocker spaniel dog, named Lucy at the time, and she would not come out from under little Jerry’s bed until after the body was taken and buried. While Jerry was ill with the bronchitis that led to his death Lucy had stayed in his room with him round the clock. Later, the white coffin was taken to the new grave at Carrignafoy, where he was laid to rest. Mammy, daddy, Patty, Mary and now Jerry’s niece baby Nora have since joined him. It is only about two hundred yards from the grave to the house where daddy and mammy first settled in when they got married, and where I was born.
In the late thirties the Cove Boxing Club was first opened down in the Beach, at the back of The Rainbow Shop adjoining Wilson’s chemist shop. The Rainbow Shop window front area was curved and led into what was really only a long corridor, leading into a room at the end which became the Boxing Club. Sweets were sold in the shop/corridor and there was no way of closing off the shop area when the front door was opened. There was never a reported theft of anything from the shop. The founders of the Boxing Club were My father, Jack Lynch, who was timekeeper and secretary; Harry McCrossen, who was the trainer there; Eddie Nolan, who took on the role of treasurer and referee; Bertie Maguire, who was our local Garda Superintendent and Mr. Kavanagh who worked in Wilson’s local chemist shop.
I, my brother and many of our friends were members of the club. I must confess that I never had a love of boxing and did not apply myself to it like others did. All I wanted to do was to get out of the ring as soon as the bout finished, win or lose. I only did it because I was expected to do so by daddy. My brother Anthony and Chris Walsh were known as the
‘Cove midgets’ and boxed exhibition bouts in the City Hall in Cork, and other places, at four stone four ounces in weight. They were excellent and drew applause from everybody.
Anthony was the first Cobh boxer to win an all Ireland boxing title. In 1940 he won the title at four stone four ounces, when he was just ten years old. He also won many County and Munster titles, at various weights. Some years later he was runner up in the seven stone, seven ounces weight category for the Irish title. For being the best losing finalist of the championship he was awarded ‘The Lombard Cup’. Our local paper, ‘The paper,’ said ‘he was robbed’ and we all agreed. When he was in the Royal Navy he won more boxing titles and continued to pursue his passion for the sport. After the untimely death of the trainer Harry McCrossen, Garda Eddie Smith came and trained the lads. He was ex-lightweight champion of Ireland. At a tournament held in the ‘Coliseum’ (Young Men’s Society Hall) Garda Smith gave exhibition bouts with various members of the Cobh club.
When the club was relocated in the old Preaching House Guard Carberry tried to set up a Brass and Reed Band. I was one of a few boys to join. He taught me music terms like quavers and semi quavers but that’s as far as I went with it - because in my whole time there I never got to blow an instrument or beat a drum because there were no musical instruments available. Suffice to say the venture soon ended.
Ronnie Twomey, who was a boxer in the club and he worked on improvements needed in the club. The committee decided that it was necessary to start a fund raising effort. One thing that was needed was a constant flow of cash to supplement the Flag Day, concerts, boxing tournaments and voluntary contributions. Card games such as Whist and ‘45’ drives were top of the agenda but tables and chairs were needed for this and so first money raised had to be targeted for this objective. With a bit of luck and hard graft eventually enough was gathered to buy the tables and the bench-seats were made up from discarded floor joists. Elbow grease and dedication shone through as nails were removed from the joists. The wood was planed smooth, cut, and shaped as required. Ronnie did most of this work and soon the club had a fine layout for these card drives, which provided urgent funds. There were also many good supporters in Cobh and Cork City who gave silver cups, medals, and shields as prizes and trophies for our competitions. It was a community effort that got the club off the ground and functioning well.