by Jack Lynch
There was a variety of characters that were part of the club then. The club had all types as members and each unique person brought something to the table, even if it was only just a laugh or a joke. Once, at a whist drive, Guard Cahill was sitting at the card table for the games to commence. He loved his card games and chatting up the ladies, particularly if they had sweets. This particular time, this lady got fed up with him as he never handed his sweets around so before she had come on this night she had doctored her own confectionary. She had got a bar of Fry’s cream chocolate, split it in half, and replaced the sweet cream filling with white soft soap. At the whist drive she gave him a piece of the doctored chocolate which he duly gobbled up. As he started to chew all hell broke loose. The table of cards was overturned as he leapt up and down shouting and trying to spit the soapy chocolate out of his mouth. There was general hilarity and Guard Cahill certainly learned his lesson!
My love of boats was also a general love of transport of all kinds. Whether it was a train, car, side-car or one of the hundreds of types of boats in Cobh, to me if it moved it was fascinating. My friends and I used to stand on one of the bridges straddling the railway lines and wait for the train to pass underneath. It came along with smoke billowing from its funnel and made a hissing sound that only the old steam trains could produce. As it passed, the carriages swayed and the clicking noise of the wheels hitting the rails was quite audible. We coughed, spluttered, and heaved from the smoke but for some reason we did it over, and over again.
Outside the station, close to the Stationmaster’s house on the Lower Road, there was a water tank that was used to replenish the boilers of the trains. Trains stopped here regularly and a canvas pipe was lowered to the train and the boilers were filled for the next journey back to Cork. Further out at Whitepoint there was a large table to turn the train and this fascinated us. We watched as the train was uncoupled at the station and then came out backwards from Cobh station where it stopped on the turn-table. Next, it was manhandled and turned before it returned to the carriages at the station. It then hooked up with the carriages and headed back for Cork.
Still with transport, and out on the water, the Morsecock was a two-funnelled boat that took people on excursions around the Harbour and normally anchored up off the Deepwater Quay. From time to time she acted as a tugboat to tow vessels. She was involved in s.s Celtic salvage operation. As well as this activity there was a constant coming and going of British destroyers and battleships, which were moored in the harbour. They could be seen launching their boats to let sailors get shore leave. The Spike Island launches, used for taking British troops backwards and forwards between Cobh, Haulbowline and Spike Island, were constantly moving across the harbour. These were also used for towing targets outside the harbour, where artillery guns practiced firing.
I watched Irish emigrants going to England on the Innisfallen and Kenmare. The pre-war Innisfallen was a well-known passenger ferry-boat that was sunk by the Germans. Her successor, also named Innisfallen, used to blow her horn as she came around the Spit lighthouse, homeward bound, and this was the signal for everybody to come out and wave, whether or not they had friends aboard. Two Captains of this ship were from Cobh; Captain Horne and Captain Hamilton. People looked out their windows and on the quayside waved handkerchiefs. Tears of sadness, outward bound, and joy when homeward bound were common.
At the Deepwater Quay, people cried and sang, “Come back to Erin” every time the Tender left with emigrants for the liners which were heading for America. Sometimes the singing was supported by a band, including the local Sandy Marshall’s Fife and Drum band. I was too young to understand the loneliness they felt and I laughed at them with the rest of the lads. Usually the town was crowded with visitors for the liners. Later, I was to feel some of their loneliness when I left the town for England for the first time on the same Innisfallen that I’d waved to previously. Still later, when I served on the deep sea tug, m.v Turmoil I felt the same sadness when I saw Molly, baby Ann, my sister Sheila and my parents waving to me as I passed down river to leave the harbour on a salvage job.
When the coronation of King Edward VIII took place in 1938, a huge replica of a Crown all lit up was placed on top of the Spike Island. It was magnificent. Destroyers in the harbour flew all kinds of flags and searchlights lit up the sky. The ships sirens hooted and blared, as crowds cheered downtown. Little did they know then how long it would be before he abdicated.
Just before the war Laurel and Hardy came to visit Ireland in a very special trip and I followed them from the United States Hotel, now the Commodore, to the quay, where they embarked on the tender for the Liner. We were used to seeing these comedians in the cinema but to actually see them in the flesh was great. We cheered them and some tried to shake hands with them but not many succeeded. My luck was in as I actually touched Laurel’s coat before I was ushered away. I stayed until they vanished into their cabins and were no longer visible. The Church carillon chimed out the famous signature music associated with them and they were overwhelmed that this was done for them.
Growing up then we got our education where we could and as for learning about sex that was knowledge that was even harder to come by. I remember foraging about in our larder once when I discovered two very attractive hard-cover books. One was an Encyclopaedia of World war one containing photos and a story of soldiers’ exploits which intrigued me. The other one though was even more intriguing! This book was a mixed selection of stories, some historical, some detective stories but best of all, a romance! It was this story which gave me my first piece of sex education. The story was called ‘Messalina, the Illustrious Harlot’ and I read it over, and over again. One sentence remains etched in my memory forever, it went like this; ‘In the morning, she pushed the naked body, still clinging to her, away.’ Even now I can visualise myself, sitting at the window reading, and rereading, this story, and absorbing this new experience. Now I knew what a harlot was. I smile now when I think of our total ignorance of sexual matters and reflect on our idea of what we thought was a ‘loose woman.’ Believe it or not as kids we thought that it referred to a woman who might have had a strange way of walking until the adults taught us the new more shocking meaning.
Apart from that shocking discovery life was relatively innocent. As I grew up daddy used to take myself and my siblings around with him in the car, whenever he was collecting insurance. Before he had a car, and during the war, he cycled around the districts on his bike. I remember feeling sorry for him when I saw him come home soaked to the skin, frozen with the cold. His area covered Cobh and the surrounding places in the Great Island, and into Carrigtwohill, Midleton and Watergrasshill. He collected in Spike Island and Haulbowline too, where British service men, and women, resided and held insurance policies. I got to know many of these people while I accompanied daddy to work.
He used to take me around Midleton, East Ferry, and Cloyne; places that were his stomping grounds when he had been growing up. When I got older, and had my own transport, I frequented these places too. Often, he went down to the water’s edge at Walterstown, across the river from East Ferry. He used to sit there on the wall as he reminisced and would point across the water and say; “Up there, on that hill, and over there by the beautiful East Ferry church, I used to walk when I was young”. Straight in front, at East Ferry, was Murphy’s Pub and this was another focal point for him. It was where he used to have his pint when he was young and single. He also said that he used to sit on the wall at Aghada to watch the Cobh regatta fireworks and occasionally he came across on the Ferry, which ran from East Ferry to Walterstown. He then walked into Cobh and back again later at night. Apparently, a whistle was enough then to attract the ferryman, who rowed across to collect his passengers. He charged two pence per passenger and six pence for a bike.
Daddy made good use of his contacts in Haulbowline and bought a lot of beautiful timber there. This timber came from ships being scrapped in the shipyard. Some of this timber was salvaged
from the liner s.s. Celtic. He hired a local carpenter, named Cashman, from St. Colman’s Square and paid him to make wardrobes and other bedroom furniture, which he then sold on. I loved the smell and fragrant aroma of the cut timber. He used some of this timber to upgrade the shop too. He put new compartments in the corners and built new partitions for the bathroom.
I was lucky to have enjoyed every part of growing up and looked forward to many more happy events in the years to come, and also things that would help in my education and experience. I am sure there are youngsters who would love to have had experiences like these. The history-making events as well as beautiful sights in the town and Harbour are cherished memories I was so lucky to have seen and partaken in.
CHAPTER NINE
I attended the Presentation College in Cobh as teenager until the age of 15. Brother Aiden was the Principal there and it was he who taught me Latin. He was a quiet man and was known, to the boys at least, by his initials; WAC. Brother Regis, AKA Johnny Gob or Gobbo, was an older Brother and used to take us out into the adjoining field to learn ‘about nature’, as he put it, but in reality it was so that he could have a nap! English was his main forte. Out in the field he used to say; “Now be quiet, close your eyes, take in nature, and remember I’m watching you at all times.” I don’t think the poor man was up to teaching at his age.
I had a lay teacher we called Mosso, Moss O’Brien, who taught science, physics and mathematics. He was a brilliant teacher and also took the class for Rugby, which was controversial at the time as some Brothers wanted only Gaelic played in the College. The college rugby team did very well in college championship games though. A few of the lads got international caps. Mosso’s favourite expression was, “Have you my knife?” which meant ‘Do you understand me?’
Brother Liam, alias ‘Billy the Kid’, was young and aggressive. I had a run in with him once that I remember well. One day he was asked to keep an eye on us while our teacher was away. He taught his own class within the same room and at one point he gave a hiding to Tommy Donovan, a neighbour and friend of mine. When I looked across and nodded to Tommy to check he was alright, ‘Billy the Kid’ flew into a terrible rage. He came rushing towards me, his face red and the cane raised above his head. He shouted at me; “Get up,” and I did. I was taller than him; he was only about twenty years old. Again, in a raised voice he shouted;
“Hold out your hand.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You were looking across and disrupting my class and you were not studying.” he shouted.
“I was looking in your direction only because I was learning my subject off by heart and I could not look at my book whilst I was doing this,” I lied through my teeth, as I denied his accusation.
“Hold out your hand”, he shouted.
I refused and said no, and then added “don’t try and use that cane on me.”
By now the two classes were completely absorbed with the confrontation taking place in front of them and I was actually enjoying it because I felt in control, for the first time. I was cool and composed, while he was frustrated and upset. Billy the Kid then lifted the cane and took a swipe at me. The cane hit me across the chest and broke a pen I had in my breast pocket.
“Look at what you’ve done,” I said and I grabbed his wrist and took the cane from him. He was furious. His face was so red I thought he would blow a vessel.
He screamed; “Give that cane back to me.”
“You can have it if you promise to take it back to your own class and do not try and use it on me again.” I told him. He promised and I gave him the cane. Then he said; “Leave the class and go home.”
I immediately packed my books and left the class. Soon after, my friend Cecil James came out with his books under his coat and we both enjoyed the afternoon together. The whole affair was never mentioned again, even when Billy the Kid took over our class the following year.
At weekends, or sometimes after school hours, daddy never seemed to be happy unless he had me working at something or other, particularly if it meant he did not have to perform the tasks himself. To keep me out of harm’s way he decided to fit awnings over the shop and I came in handy. It was my job to get up on the ladder and punch four holes in the concrete to hold metal eyelets, which held the supports for the awnings in place. I sweated and swore under my breath throughout. There were many occasions when the hammer slipped on the chisel and caught my knuckles. Next, I had to fit hooks across the front of the shop, to hook up the length of the awning. Eventually, the job was finished and the awnings were up, in full glory, to the front of the shop and the customers were protected from rain and extreme sunshine.
Throughout my school going years mammy gave shelter to various school pals of ours who wanted to go on the ‘lang’ (play truant). On one occasion my friend Chris Walsh decided he was not going to school that particular day and called into the house. He went to the stove where mammy kept her cigarette butts and helped himself to a dried up Woodbine butt. I, too, took these butts on occasion when I wanted a smoke but daddy did not find out for some time that I smoked.
Chris felt safe and happy to be inside our nice warm house protected from the freezing weather outside. Daddy was out at work so he was safe enough. However, the bad weather this particular day caused daddy to decide to come home early and Chris, knowing he would be in big trouble if discovered, just made it out into the backyard in time, climbing up on the outside loo to hide. The tank for the loo was on top of the roof and was frozen over but Chris had not noticed because he too was freezing. Daddy came into the kitchen and rushed straight to the outside loo as he was having difficulty holding on and seemed desperately in need of relief. Chris nearly had a heart attack when he heard daddy go into the loo and prayed that he would move out soon. No such luck! Daddy sat on the loo and, despite the cold, took his sweet time. Chris was shaking and freezing, he didn’t have time to grab his coat on the way out and he could not move to stretch his stiff joints for fear of alerting daddy. Eventually, daddy pulled the chain and Chris breathed again only to suddenly realise that the ball cock was stuck solid in the frozen water. Daddy was mumbling to himself, wondering why the loo wouldn’t flush and Chris thought that his time was up, sure it was only seconds before daddy would come up to see what the problem was. Chris immediately broke the ice, plunged his hand and forearm up to the elbow in the icy water in the tank, and released the ballcock. The water flowed as Chris breathed a sigh of relief and daddy, relieved the toilet was back working, went inside. After some time mammy came out to tell Chris that daddy had gone out again and the coast was clear. Chris could not get inside quickly enough to thaw out and dry his wet sleeve. Daddy often spoke about putting a fur covering on the toilet seat because it was so cold. It’s just as well he didn’t because our aim was not too good!
All through our childhood daddy made sure we had shoes, even if they did hurt our feet, and enough clothes, at a time when other children ran around barefoot, cold and hungry. I remember he also gave food and clothes to others less well off than we were too. As with most children we were not always too satisfied with the clothes we wore. During the war, when things were tough, he had overcoats made from blankets. These were dyed dark brown. I also had clothes made from daddy’s old suits. Usually, the material was turned inside out and stitched up into a suit or trousers.
When I was 11 years old I was lucky enough to see Eamonn deValera arriving to reclaim the ports for the Irish. Spike Island, which was known as Fort Westmoreland, and Fort Camden, Fort Carlisle and Fort Templebreedy were all taken back when he was Prime Minister of Ireland. Irish and British soldiers were present when the Union Jack was lowered for the last time over Spike Island, and the Irish Tricolour was raised. It was an electric moment. The National Anthem was played and everybody clapped and cheered and hugged one another. A twenty-one gun salute was given. At that same time there were also many sad farewells to British military personnel, as they had become very attached to the locals during their
time living with us.
A local boat, the Morsecock had ferried dignitaries and officials from the Deepwater Quay to Spike Island to witness and take part in the ceremonies surrounding the auspicious moment. Other Irish ports previously occupied up to then by British Troops were also taken over at the same time. After the initial celebrations, reality struck home in the town and things went downhill, particularly when World War II started. In Ireland this was known as The Emergency. The whole atmosphere of the town changed then.
British Royal Naval vessels were no longer seen in the Cork Harbour and the town suffered from the losses in business and revenue. Local women who had married British soldiers and sailors left town, emigrating with their husbands to England.
Ireland was now isolated during World War II. Little did we know how much Churchill, the new Prime Minister in Britain, would want the ports back when war broke out. If he had been in power, instead of Neville Chamberlain who was the British Prime Minister involved in the handover of the ports, deValera might not have got the ports back as easily as he did. Churchill was no friend of Ireland. There were rumours that the British were going to invade Ireland to get the ports back when war broke out, as they were vital for Britain and the Atlantic sea war. It was also rumoured that America had somehow quashed the proposal. There was a big Irish influence with the American/ Irish groupings.
In town we had two cinemas, which miraculously survived the losses inflicted on the area by the war and were a great source of escapism during those dark days. The Coliseum, which was part of the Young Men’s Society building, was run by the Moynihans. The second cinema, The Arch, was owned by Frenetts and was run by Johnny Morgan and John Hennessy, two local men.