Throwback Thursday: We've identified the Cork conker kids...

READER of Throwback Thursday, John Barry, wrote in about the conker picture at Glasheen School in the 1950s we published last week, and says the page from the Cork Directory is interesting too.

“I wasn’t even born in 1941, but a few names stood out,” he said.

“Merrick in Meade Street was possibly the Merrick who later had a steel foundry on Parnell Place, where they cast various things like manhole covers and the old fashioned toilet cisterns, the ones mounted high on the wall with a pull chain to flush.

“There is mention of Cross Motor engineers. I’m guessing these were later the Crosses Garage on South Mall, where interestingly I saw the first Mini in 1959. A cousin of theirs had a garage on Sullivans Quay and they had the Sunbeam car agency and I think another make also.

“When I think back to the ’50s and ’60s there were many garages in the city itself and in some cases petrol pumps at the edge of the footpath. 

No way would you be allowed to put petrol pumps so close to the traffic today!

“But I’m hoping someone will come forward with names for the other lads in that conker photo!”

And someone did, John, someone did! Pat O’Reilly in fact. We already knew John Barry was second on the right, and Pat said: “The boy on the left with his back to the viewer is Chris Lee. In the middle, the guy with the dark hair is Jim O’Donovan, next to him is Sean O’Callaghan, and the boy on the right, holding the conker is Teddy Mahony.”

Well done, Pat! You were there at the time?

Yep. I saw the photograph being taken! There were a few other pictures taken that day, as I recall.

That’s five of the six boys identified - another Throwback Thursday query answered , thanks to our readers!

Now - when was the last time you went on holiday with your parents? Tim Cagney remembers the occasion well.

“In my case, it was at the age of 24. My dad, you see, never had a car (he had impoverished himself putting me and my brother through a fee-paying school) so, when I acquired a car of my own, I considered it only fair that I would assume the role of family taximan.

“The year was 1974, and the destination of choice was Co. Kerry. The holidaymakers were myself, my parents, brother (Con) and his future wife (June.)

“Dad had chosen a guesthouse whose views of the ocean were obstructed by a wall, directly across the road from the house, though you could see the waves from the upstairs windows - but it wasn’t quite the same!

“We all piled into my ’69 VW Beetle, and off we went. The landlady welcomed us warmly, and we all settled down to two weeks of expectant bliss in the Kingdom.

“Con and June - needless to say - had separate sleeping arrangements. No pre-marital hanky-panky in those days!

“The house was situated not too far from Derrynane, once home to the great Daniel O’Connell. Our landlady’s opinion of Daniel was less than complimentary, though, referring to him as ‘a man who had a woman behind every bush’.

“This shocked Dad, who held a somewhat more sanctified view of the National Legend. The landlady, however, was unrepentant.

Tim adds: “She was similarly verbose when referring to her grandson. Said child was a near-feral toddler, who possessed a veritable arsenal of bad behaviours, including a propensity to forcibly remove wall coverings. The landlady unashamedly referred to him as ‘that lickle bashtard’.

“Dad, who always strove to see the good in people, chose to think that, beneath the child’s weapons-grade exterior, a ‘better nature’ existed. He once attempted to engage with such imagined entity, only to be rewarded by having the little brute fling a half-full waste-paper basket at him. 

Suffice to say that he didn’t try again!

Tim recalls that the landlady and her family left the house every morning in a venerable car, the battery in which was permanently flat.

“They started it by engaging reverse gear and then shoving it backwards until it burst into life. They would then all climb in and disappear, leaving a blue cloud of smoke in their wake.

“They would not be seen again until that evening. Where they went, or what they did, remains a mystery.”

However, Tim says the landlady’s breakfasts were the stuff of legend - super-generous quantities of bacon, eggs and sausages, enough to keep you going until evening.

“Her standards of cuisine, however, did not extend to that main meal of the day. The meat, in particular, presented something of a challenge to the geometry of our jaws, to say nothing of the penetrative capabilities of our teeth.

“Once or twice, Dad expressed the suggestion that, perhaps, a chainsaw - rather than a knife - might have been a more appropriate form of cutlery. It goes without saying, of course, that we never voiced our criticisms to the lady. In true Irish fashion, we told her ‘everything was lovely’.

“She had a dog, which once presented itself at the table, nose held expectantly aloft. In fairness, she initially tried to dismiss him, but we were all animal-friendly, and assured her his presence posed no problem.

“Con once took advantage of the creature, by feeding it substantial quantities of his inedible meat. Strangely, the following night, there was no sign of the canine - in fact, the animal never showed himself again throughout the remainder of our holiday.

“This led Con to ponder as to whether he was suffering from culinary fright, or had died of agonizing indigestion.”

Tim continues with his funny reminiscence.

“One evening, following one of these chewing marathons, we decided to visit a local hostelry. 

A chalked blackboard, at the entrance, proclaimed that the entertainment, that evening, would be provided by a certain combo.

“Now, to my mind, the term combo suggested a group of, perhaps, five in number, possibly playing some gentle jazz. A little Duke Ellington, perhaps, or Dave Brubeck - maybe even the Jim Doherty Trio?

“Not so. This combo consisted of two youths, with a few instruments.

“Now, I’m afraid that Con and myself in those days had somewhat different leanings where music was concerned. Our heroes were Rory Gallagher and Cream drum-maestro, Ginger Baker. We just looked at each other and rolled our eyes skyward. Our worst fears were realised when the band started up.

“My mother and June became involved in an intense conversation, totally oblivious to the sounds emanating from the stage. Dad, normally a compulsive talker, simply gazed into his pint in contemplative silence for the duration of the evening, in the manner of someone who had totally lost the will to live.

“As for Con and myself, we simply rocked with laughter, being careful not to make eye-contact with the band, lest they sussed that they were the cause of our mirth.”

Tim says the family took a trip to an area called Glencar, within which lie many well-known tourist-attractions, including Caragh Lake.

“A local mountain road known as The Bealach Beama Pass takes you to a level from where spectacular views of the surrounding countryside may be enjoyed.

“One day, we set off to explore. On the way up, we noticed that the visibility was getting more and more problematical - the reason being that we were, essentially, climbing into a cloud.

“Eventually we reached a point where visibility was almost nil. We could only imagine what the view might have looked like, had the all-enveloping mist not been there.

Very gingerly, I executed a three-point turn. My trusty Beetle obligingly complied, and we descended the incline again.

“At this stage, Dad decided we should make our long-awaited visit to Derrynane House, home of the aforementioned Daniel O’Connell. When we arrived, the great house was locked up.

“We peered through windows at the dark interior - I remember seeing some rather impressive silverware, reposing on highly-polished tables. We disappointedly took our leave, and headed for the local village, where we found a small shop, filled with rather tempting confectionery. We purchased a generous supply of such creations and headed back to our holiday home.

“For fear of upsetting the landlady’s sensibilities, we smuggled them upstairs, and surreptitiously wolfed them down in the seclusion of our bedrooms.”

Tim has another memory of that drama-filled holiday.

“One day, I was driving alone, in search of a filling-station, when I was flagged down by a man, standing at the side of the road. I rolled-down my window, and he silently pointed to my passenger-seat. It didn’t take me long to realise he had a speech disability.

“Being afflicted with a stammer myself, I empathised with his condition, and gestured that he should get in. He was, of course, looking for a lift home.

“He directed me by tapping my left arm and pointing in the desired direction. Luckily, the journey wasn’t too complex (or too far) and I soon deposited him safely at his abode. He smiled a grateful appreciation and disappeared indoors.

“On my way back to the holiday house, I realised that, in my zeal to help my fellow-man, I had totally forgotten that my car needed petrol. It was around 7pm by then, and I wondered where I might find a functioning filling-station, at that hour.

“Just then, I spotted a bungalow, affixed to which was a Garda sign. I stopped the car and ventured in.

“On my way up the garden path, I spotted a pair of heavy-duty boots, suspended from a clothesline.

“The door was opened by a uniformed Garda (sans footwear, of course) who seemed none too pleased to see me. His vocabulary appeared to consist of just two words - ‘all closed’.

“I had the distinct impression that I had interrupted his favourite TV programme, and prudently took my leave. Fortunately, my ever-reliable Beetle managed to make it back to the guesthouse.

“The following day, we were all due to go home. We duly loaded ourselves and our luggage into the car and - having replenished the fuel-tank - headed for Cork.

Strange to think that all of this happened nearly 50 years ago...

Tim, thank you for sharing those memories with us.

Any others with recollections of family holidays, whether wet and wild or sunny and dreamy? Email jokerrigan1@gmail.com. Or leave a comment on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/echolivecork.