by Jack Lynch
My favourite movies were ‘Cowboys and Indians’ films. Most cowboy films were associated with Indians in those days. Tom Mix, Ken Maynard, Gene Autry, Charles Starret, Roy Rogers were the actors of my day. Other well-liked actors were Tim Holt, Jimmy Cagney, Andy Devine, Lloyd Nolan, George Raft, Charlie Chaplin, and Laurel and Hardy. The singing cowboys, Sons of the Pioneers, rated high with me also. Our Gang, The Three Stooges, and Marx Brothers were also in my list of ‘must see.’ I did not rate female actresses much then as I was a bit young for that kind of interest, except Marjorie Maine, who was not sexy and who always appeared in cowboy films. I also loved the Tarzan films. Bulldog Drummond was a favourite, with Leslie Howard in the lead role. When I grew up, I fell in love with the gorgeous, dark haired Hedy Lemarr. There was nobody like Hedy. My best friend Danny Hunt fell for another actress, Joan Leslie, who had fair hair. We talked about these actresses as if we knew them. One of the highlights of the cinema was the weekly serial, like X-Men. The agent was always on the verge of being killed at the end of an episode and we would try to figure out how he could be saved next week. It was a long time to wait for the hero to outwit the enemy. It was the topic of boys’ conversations all week long. It cost four pence to get into the cinema and our parents sat in the one-shilling seats. During the war we got in to some cinemas by collecting jam jars, these were accepted in lieu of money. All the films were early black and whites and some were grainy, and there were lots of break downs.
One night, I was in the Coliseum cinema in the shilling seats, as I was older at this stage, when the local butcher’s daughter came in and sat between me and another fellow. After a few minutes, when the cartoon had started, the girl let out a scream. I jumped and there was general pandemonium around us. The lights came on and the fellow on the other side of the girl looked frozen to the seat. Everybody was concerned and the girl explained that the fellow, whom she knew, asked her if she would like a sweet and with her eyes glued to the screen she dipped her hand into the bag and felt something cold, and slimy. This frightened the life out of her and she had very disturbing thoughts about the contents. As it turned the poor fellow had two bags with him, one contained sweets and the other contained sausages! She had dipped her hand into the wrong bag. He could not get out quickly enough!
The Four Feathers, a film depicting the British army in action, was showing in the Coliseum one night when a few of us went to watch a movie. During one scene, when the British flag was being raised, a bottle of black ink hit the screen. An anti-British demonstration was in progress. The show stopped and the Guards arrived and arrested one fellow whose name I can’t remember. It ruined the rest of the film for us, trying to watch the screen with ink smeared across it!
There were two shows on week nights -one from 7p.m.to 9p.m. and the second from 9 to 11p.m. On Sundays there was usually a matinee at 3p.m. and one evening performance. Immediately after each show we would all stand to attention whilst the sound system blared out The Soldier’s Song, which was the English version of our National Anthem. With gusto we all shouted our own words to it;
Later, the Atlantic Theatre was renamed the Atlantic Cinema. In the early thirties the Atlantic Cinema was originally called The Baths, where the sign said ‘Hot and Cold, Fresh and Saltwater Baths.’ It was known as ‘Queenstown Seawater Baths and Recreation Co.’ and it was here where steerage class passengers to the U.S. were deloused before they boarded the liner which was on route to Ellis Island. When Ellis Island later closed the Baths became defunct and the building was taken over by Mossie McDonnell, a local butcher from Harbour Row. He got rid of the baths amid much controversy and converted the building into a modern cinema, just prior to WW II. Whilst waiting for the cinema equipment to arrive from France, war was declared and the equipment was held up in France until the war ended. In the meantime, the cinema became a theatre and we saw performances from Michael Mac Liamoir, Hilton Edwards, Lord Longford, Anew McMaster, Jack Doyle and Movita. The local Argosy Players, which included Denis Harrington, Mossie McDonnell, Kitty Sexton, Kitty Fitzgerald, Jasper Wilson, Pat Murphy, Nollaig O’Brien and many more also performed here.
It was in this theatre that Jack Doyle and Movita had a big fight that I’m sure most of the onlookers would still remember to this day! The relationship had been very fiery with Movita, and her Mexican temper, often coming out on top. I was looking out our bedroom window one night, watching the crowds going into the Atlantic Theatre. After some time, a lot of noise could be heard and after a while Jack came out, followed by Movita, and a big row seemed to be in progress. Our windows were wide open and mammy, daddy and Eileen were also shamelessly looking on. Many of our neighbours were also absorbed with the confrontation taking place. We had a clear view from our house! From what I could hear poor Jack had his face cut with glass and tried to put a brave front on himself. However, Movita took off for the States soon after and that was the end of their marriage.
Jack had a reputation for womanising and drinking, which affected his career. However, he seemed to have been nice to the locals. My sister Sheila later told me that she and some of her friends were playing down in the baths when Jack came up to them and gave them some money so he obviously has a soft spot for some of the local children.
The theatre was again converted to a cinema when the equipment eventually arrived and was installed. It was then named The Ormond and later renamed The Tower. Here, Johnny Cashman was the caretaker and ticket collector. Poor Johnny’s eyesight was not great and the boys used to pass him all kinds of paper, including Woodbine packets, as tickets. Whilst he tried to apprehend one boy, another used to sneak in behind his back. It was common to see Johnny going from row to row with his flashlight, looking for these boys who hid on the floor to escape detection. As this occurred during a film, people shouted at Johnny to put the light out. The poor man had a rough time.
In Cork, one night, Dan Hunt and I had been to the Savoy Cinema, and when we came out there was a large crowd at the bus stop. We were in danger of missing our last train to Cobh unless we got on the next bus. Fortunately, we had some Chinese crackers with us. I lit one of the crackers with a lighted cigarette and casually walked up towards the front of the queue and dropped the cracker about three rows from the front. I then stood back. In no time, the cracker exploded, and as all good crackers do, it scared the lives out of the people who were not expecting it. They scattered and Dan and I moved in at the head of the queue, expressing our horror at what had happened. We caught the last train home just fine and laughed to ourselves the whole way home!
We got up to plenty of capers as young lads. We had a very complicated version of what kids today call ‘knick knacks’ that we used to carry out at night. We used to tie a string to a knocker on one side of the road and then take it back to the next house on the other side and so on until we got about six houses tied up. We would then knock at the first house, hide and watch and wait. The first person would open their door and look around, which would cause the string to be pulled tight on the knocker of the door opposite, calling them to their empty doorway, and so on. We would watch fascinated, as people up and down the street all came out at night wondering what was going on and then, when they realised they’d been had, cursing whoever did it. They never did find out who it was and we carried on regardless.
Another gem of a prank was also carried out at night. We used to tie a piece of black thread between a knocker and a nearby post, or petrol pump. The thread was pitched at head-height. In those days, most men wore hats. As they came to the thread, the hat went flying and the doorknocker was activated. The owner came to the door only to find a man groping in the dark, looking for his hat. It was hilarious and we got great enjoyment out of it, until one night it backfired on us…
There was a convenient petrol pump right in front of Barry’s door, at number 34, which made it an easy target. On the other side of our house was number 32, Mackey’s Pub. One night Tommy Donovan and I were inside our house, at number 33, and we dec
ided to tie a piece of black thread between the pump and Barry’s door knocker. Mammy gave us some blue woollen thread which she was using for knitting. We blackened it with black shoe polish. This turned out to be our biggest mistake. Anyway, we looked out and when the coast was clear, we finished laying the trap.
Mammy, who knew what we were up to said,
“Tommy, make sure your father does not come out of Mackeys and get caught.”
Guard Donovan, Tommy’s dad, used to go to Mackey’s for his jar on a regular basis.
“No, he’s on duty tonight,” Tommy said, reassuring her.
Time passed as we looked out our shop window, hoping to spring the trap. Some women, and men without hats, got through our trap without incident. Then, all of a sudden, Guard Donovan, with his Guard’s cap in a jolly slanted tilt passed our window.
“Oh Jesus,” said mammy, who was also looking out the window.
Guard Donovan got to the pump and just as planned, though not for him, off went his hat into the darkness. We heard the knocker hit the door at Barry’s and Charlie Barry opened it and found Guard Donovan down on his hands and knees looking for his black cap in the dark, on the road.
Mr. Barry did not know what was the matter and thought Guard Donovan was drunk and had fallen down. We were close to wetting ourselves with laughter but the laughter didn’t last long. Daddy appeared with some other men and saw the same scene. They all then got together and had a pow-wow. Daddy came into the house and looked at Tommy and me, but did not say anything to us. Instead, he said to mammy, “You have blue wool for knitting, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
The smiles were gone off our faces by now.
Daddy then turned to me and said, “Show me your hands.”
Finally, it dawned on me. There was the evidence of black shoe polish on both my hands. Daddy laughed loudly and said he had never seen anything so funny as Guard Donovan clawing in the dark for his hat. He too thought Guard Donovan was drunk and had fallen over. We didn’t get in trouble thankfully, mostly because daddy found the whole affair so funny but this ended our game so close to home for the time being. I reckon daddy should have been a policeman after that detective work.
Robbing (or slogging, as we called it) orchards was a common occurrence in Cobh and all the children knew the location of the best, and most accessible, orchards in the area. One night, some of us robbed an orchard out the High Road and were on our way back to town when two guards came racing along on bikes. They stopped when they saw us to see what we were up to. One of the lads saw that one of the guards was his father and there were also two sons of the local sergeant with us as well. These boys started to get nervous, getting caught by the guards and your father at the same time would have been even worse. The guards recognised us and asked us if we had seen any boys out the road as a phone call had been made telling the guards that lads were in an orchard, stealing apples. We said there were some fellows who had just passed us and who had ran down the short cut to the Lower Road, via the stationmaster’s house. They thanked us for the information and peddled off in pursuit of the fictitious boys. This was a close shave but not the only one we had.
Around the town the guards busied themselves checking for lights on bikes, following up reports of orchard slogging, checking wireless licenses, pub closing hours and making sure pub visitations on Sundays -when only visitors were allowed in for a drink - were being obeyed. Usually, the locals walked to Ballymore, or Carrigaloe, for a Sunday drink. A visitor was defined as anybody who travelled more than three miles to the pub. This was a Sunday stroll for the lads. However some fellows stayed at their regular pubs and took the chance of getting away with not being caught in a guard raid. Pubs owners pulled blinds and imposed silence outside of hours, and even posted their look-outs near the pub. There was one particular pub, down The Mall in the Holy Ground, which I believe was never caught in a raid, despite open drinking being carried on outside it. The famous Holy Ground is a street British sailors and others frequented in earlier times. Lookouts were placed at the top of Cotterell’s Row and outside the pub and on the Holy Ground to watch the approaches to the pub. This meant that nobody could get near it without being seen. One time the guards came along in a boat and tried to surprise the owners permitting open drinking take place, but had no luck and had to give up trying. When an attempted raid was in progress, the boys casually walked outside the pub, with their pints in their hands, and laughed at the frustrated guards, who could do nothing as the pint drinkers were not, technically, on the premises.
Entrapment was not an unheard of term in those days. The guards were ingenuous and had lots of ways and means of catching those deemed to be breaking the law. The guards used Belvelly Bridge as a trap point to catch culprits who cycled home at night with unlit bicycles. It was an ideal trap zone as it was quite narrow and the guards had a good view in all directions. One night a poor fellow was merrily cycling along with no lights on his bike, around eleven p.m., when the local Sergeant called on him to dismount. The fellow took fright, hearing the voice coming out of the dark from seemingly nowhere, and made a dash for freedom, only to find the Sergeant’s great overcoat thrown over him like a giant net. After he got up, gingerly rubbing his injured leg and ego, he had his name taken and had to appear in court at a scheduled date. There was little opportunity for escape from that point.
During the Emergency the local guards found they had much more opportunity to deal with serious crime and their skills were really put to the test. When the Royal Cork Yacht Club came under attack from the IRA during that time and was threatened with being blown up guard Dunne came on the scene whilst on duty and was nearly shot by one of the gang. I heard that the bullet lodged in the wall quite close to him as he entered into the building to investigate the break-in. The gang of three, or four were later identified but nothing could be positively proved against them!
The Emergency affected every aspect of everyday life for us, even though it was far from the war and we were supposedly neutral. Due to fuel shortages the trains were very unreliable around the rest of the country. Nobody knew when a train was due to arrive or depart. The train drivers, who operated between Cobh and Cork, sometimes stopped the trains in Fota, where they would get out collecting timber in the woods to use as fuel to keep the trains moving. The drivers worked very hard and in those lean times there was a lot of pitching in to be done.
In the home the shortages were very noticeable; tealeaves were brewed over and over again to extract the last drop of flavour and colour from them before they were then dried and re-used as a tobacco alternative. Porridge was the mainstay of the breakfast and gone were the days of cooked breakfasts except on special occasions. Usually, there was a lot of chaff in the oats, which got stuck in the roof of my mouth, or in my throat. I hated lumpy porridge and daddy loved it, so you can guess which kind I got most of the time.
When rationing was introduced, everybody was issued with a book of coupons. These coupons itemised the allocation of foodstuffs due to each person. Tea, sugar, butter and various other goods to be purchased with the coupons had to be weighed in the shop, as nothing was prepacked.
Each household was allowed certain rations of critical items per person, per week. The larger the family, the better off they were. We mostly collected our rations from Mr. O’Kane, who had a grocery shop on Harbour Row. When I went for our ration of butter each week he would take out a lump of butter and pat it into shape using butter bats, until each lump weighed a pound, or half pound, as I wanted. He really took pride in this operation and he kept the butter in a consistent rectangular shape. He would then remove the coupons as necessary from the book. Other shops just weighed items and did not take too much trouble with presentation. Farmers delivered their country butter in ten pound lumps and this had to be patted in the same way as the creamery butter. It was usually much saltier than creamery butter and had a much more yellowish colour.
The Weights and Measures
guard used to go around regularly checking weights, and measures, in the shops to ensure they were correct so that the rations system was not being abused. There were rumours that some shopkeepers doctored the scales and gave short measures, though I can’t say that I knew of any such cases.
I always remember that mammy loved her cigarettes and when the war started, with cigarette and tobacco supplies very scarce, she suffered with the lack of them. During the Emergency cigarettes and tobacco were kept under the counters in shops and doled out to special customers, such was their scarcity. Mammy’s supply was not meeting her needs so we had to keep our ears to the ground and listen carefully for whispers and rumours of which shops might be hoarding some supplies and then we scooted to the shop and begged for some for mammy. Back then there was no age limit on children buying cigarettes for their parents.
Tobacco and the lack of it was a common topic of conversation. People discussed how they were getting on with their addiction and shared information on what they were doing to feed the habit. These included smoking dried tealeaves, dandelion roots, rat leaves. Rat leaves, as we knew them then, were large leaves on long stems that grew from the ground near walls and in damp places. Nothing took the place of the nicotine though; all old butts were recycled and re-rolled over and over again to get the very last possible drop of nicotine from them
The only time the ration system gave way a bit during the Emergency was around Christmas when our grocers gave out Christmas boxes to their customers. We normally shopped at May O’ Sullivan’s and at O’ Kane’s, so we usually got two Christmas boxes. Sometimes the box contained a Christmas cake or a ham; we might get a box of chocolates too. It was something we looked forward to but it all ceased when war broke out.