Fur shops in Cork, and Glasheen class of ’55

WE talked about Massey’s bookshop on Patrick Street a week or two back, in Throwback Thursday, when Tim Cagney was recalling playing in and around the Massey family estate up in Mayfield in the 1950s.

We mentioned, if you recall, that it is nice to see Dubray’s bookshop now sited in the selfsame old red brick traditional building that once held the wonders and delights of Massey’s, which was probably more of an antiquarian treasure house than the bright modern book emporiums of today.

Pat Kelly read that piece and wrote to say: “I well remember Massey’s. It was just across from Woolworths , where we kids would spend hours with our pennies. looking for fudgies (that is, treasures for very young boys, for anyone unfamiliar with the word).

“We would also go to Percy Diamond’s for other fudgies. I don’t suppose children nowadays even do that, or indeed where they could go if they wanted to, but back then every young boy would have pockets of treasures, a few bought over the counter with those rare pennies, but more often things picked up on the road or in a ditch.

“Girls would often have pockets of ‘chenies’, which were broken pieces of prettily-coloured china.”

Yes, Pat, back in July we had Dermot Knowles recalling where such treasures could be picked up for nothing on the southside: “For kids growing up in Ballyphehane, Turners Cross, and all around the South Douglas Road area, the Dump was a veritable playground. On a nice summer day, it was a hive of activity. Kids of all ages, even girls, would be mooching around. You’d never know what you’d come across. 

A broken cap gun that could be fixed up with a piece of twine, an old tennis ball, glassie alleys. Anything at all. Fudgies of all 57 varieties…

Back to Pat Kelly and Massey’s bookshop. “When I remember it, Massey’s was covered in dust, never open, obviously abandoned by that time, with books strewn everywhere. A complete mess, although you couldn’t see very far in through the dirt-encrusted windows when you peered in, as every kid did, maybe hoping to see a ghost or two! Sad, really.”

Pat also remembers not just one but two furriers on Patrick Street and the Grand Parade. “They were Rohu’s and Cecil Vard’s.”

Clearly, the ladies of Cork liked their furs and kept both establishments busy. And in the warmer summer months, the selfsame furs were probably brought down to the Cork Cold Storage on the South Mall, to be put away in cool quarters until the autumn, as fur didn’t like the heat and tended to sulk and drop its beauty if not kept chilled.

We seem to recall that a Rohu daughter was a percussionist in Aloys Fleischmann’s Cork Symphony Orchestra, so quite probably she was able to look up from the orchestra pit at any fashionable occasion and see some of the family furs being displayed in the stalls and dress circle.

Meanwhile, Michael Ryan was browsing through The Echo the other evening, and got to thinking of the Cork nightclubs that closed over the years.

“Bogarts nightclub was in the Savoy. It had a coloured squared dance floor. I’m not sure if it was glass but it always reminded me of Saturday Night Fever. Then we had Tramps on Drawbridge Street.

“My favourite club was The Stardust. I went there from Thursday to Sunday each week. I know on Friday they had the students’ night, and one night in particular sticks in my mind when there was a band on who made a grand entrance. The band’s name was Rocky Reveller And The Grave Diggers, and they actually carried a coffin in on their shoulders! It was a good laugh.

Of course, they had a student night in the Arcadia as well. My first strong memory of evenings at the Arc was when my other half felt a bit nauseated.

“That time you could get apple tart and cream, plus tea or coffee upstairs. After that we went to look at the band playing. It could have been U2 for all we knew.

“Anyway, this fella was puffing away mad next to us, and herself said ‘I don’t feel well’. ‘No wonder you don’t’, I replied, ‘sure he’s smoking the wacky baccy!’

Ever in pursuit of total clarity here at Throwback Thursday, we questioned this exotic phrase and Michael replied obligingly: “I should have said ‘He was smoking the hash’, but I jumped ahead with myself. Wacky baccy is one of the names they call it today. Or they might say someone was on the gonge again.”

Hastily, he adds: “By the way, I have never smoked in my life.”

As the jazz weekend approaches in October, Michael recalls going down to buy tickets in the Arc for the festival.

“There was a lot of family present that night, all decked out in their jazz gear. That time you’d be making sandwiches for the night ahead. Anyway, there was no jazz turned up at all. Instead we were stuck with a country and western band by the name of Hank Halfhead and the Floating Crowbars. Where they got that name I don’t know. I myself couldn’t stop laughing, but the jazz enthusiasts were fuming, and there were a few ready to burst a blood vessel!

What rounded it off was how popular the band actually proved to be. Everybody was out on the floor, line dancing!

Moving on, and Pat O’Reilly says he read with interest Tim Morley’s contributions regarding Glasheen Boys School and the locality where he lived in his early years - Glasheen Road.

“I was particularly interested in his comments on the local butcher and grocery shop owned by Ritchie Neville and his wife Maura (nee Healy, from Ballinhassig).

“Neville’s was the last shop, as I recall, before the school. They had the usual treats, chocolate, sweets, etc, although in 1955 the variety and choice were not great.

“There was always cattle going in and out of the butcher’s yard,” Pat recalls.

Yes, at that time it was quite commonplace to see herds of cattle or pigs being chivvied along the streets and down the hills of Cork. This writer recalls them being driven down Summerhill from St Luke’s, and the strange traditional shouts the drovers used to guide them and stop them going into gateways.

A favourite escape for some of the cattle was halfway down Summerhill on the left, where a wide rough pathway led down to the Scout Hall. (This of course was where the trains from Cobh and Youghal had originally halted, before they were re-routed to Glanmire Road station in 1895. But you all knew that without my telling you.)

“I was in the same class as Tim in Glasheen Boys National School,” continues Pat, “the new school which was opened in 1955, and had some great teachers who loved their profession and handed that love of learning on to their students.

“One of those teachers was Mr Holly, who taught the 5th and Confirmation class. He was a brilliant teacher who always praised and gave you a sense of confidence. It was great to have a teacher like Mr Holly at the cusp of becoming a teenager."

Mr Holly was a gentleman, stresses Pat. “He always wore suits which were a dark colour, and always a tie. One day he came into the class to tell us that a neighbour of his, who lived on the Model Farm Road, had died and had left a cat behind. The cat was looking for a home. I got the cat, which we immediately christened Holly!”

Tim Morley was one of the bright boys of the class, reveals Pat. “Particularly in Maths, or, as it was called then, Sums. He was quicker than most at mental arithmetic. Always first up with the answer!”

Mr O’Reilly thoughtfully sent in a photograph of that class of 1955, with the surnames of those in it.

1st back Row:- O’Sullivan, Dennehy, Dowling, Glanville, O’Leary, Nolan, O’Donovan, O’Dwyer, Ahern, O’Connor.

2nd back Row:- Tim Morley, Studdert, Healy, Quirke, Cronin, Lantry, O’Connell, Young, O;Calllaghan, McDermott, Murphy.

3rd back Row:- Curtin, Murphy, Lee, Cronin, O’Callaghan, Cahill, O’Donovan, Buckley, Buckley, Curtis, Guiney, Ahern.

Front Row:- McDonnell, Barry, Quirke, O’Mahony, Duggan, Godsell, Murphy, Kerr, Harrington, Collins, Reilly, Quirke, O’Sullivan.

Pat emailed back later to say he might have named one of the students Quirke when he could have been Fitzgibbon. Now it’s up to you, readers, to tell him if he got that one right or wrong!

Anyway, claims Pat, “I am about 95% sure of most of the names.” And how many of us could say that almost seven decades later?

We did think that this lovely and spontaneous accolade to a great teacher deserved to be shared with Mr Holly’s daughter, Mary, who responded with delight, saying: “That tribute to Dad is a lovely start to my day. And the photo is a great piece of history too. I recognise many of the surnames.

“When Dad died at the age of 95, we had several special encounters with past pupils of his. I recall on elderly man on a Zimmer frame approaching me outside the church at Dennehy’s Cross.

Dad’s first teaching position was a temporary one in Greenpoint NS. circa 1938/39, and this man, one of Dad’s first pupils, came to his funeral to say ‘Thank-you’.

Mary added: “A Glasheen past pupil, Don Hurley, who had emigrated to America when in 4th class, came back to Cork twice a year as an adult. He used to visit the school, and after Dad retired, would call to Wilton Road and spend an afternoon with my parents.

“My sister, Margaret, recalls Don’s distress the day he called and found my mother’s chair was empty.

“Don continued to call to Dad and then one day he arrived to have Margaret tell him that Dad was in hospital. Dad died shortly afterwards and Don Hurley was there for his funeral. He regarded it an honour to be there and we regarded having his loyal past pupil there an honour for us.

“A few weeks after Dad died, I got a letter from John Herrick, another past pupil. He recalled that one day, Dad discovered that John wasn’t paying attention and was drawing instead. Dad looked at the drawing and remarked ‘ That is very good, one day you will make your living from that’.

“John was a handy soccer player, became manager of Galway United, and at the time of writing the letter to me, had an art gallery in Galway!”

It is good when they come back to tell you the positive experiences, Mary, isn’t it?

I remember sitting in the stalls at the Everyman one night, watching the show. At a silent and tense moment in the action, the man sitting next to me leaned in and hissed,’I remember your dad in science class at the Tech, saying ‘You incredibly stupid boy, don’t you know that’s called the meniscus!’ Great man he was!”

Yes, you know who you are, Man in the Darkened Stalls! These little proofs of good experiences in the past are always heartening. May they say the same of us!

One other thing, adds Mary. “When Dad was appointed to Glasheen Boys NS, the numbers required to keep him employed were tight. Boys were offered sixpence if they brought a new boy to school. Paddy O’Leary brought his younger brother John (known to all as Seán). Seán became my husband!”

Well, there now for you!

Tell us your own memories. Email jokerrigan1@gmail.com. Or leave a comment on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/echolivecork.