Tasteless prank that became a last supper for gluttonous Harry

WRITER Frank O’Connor once said: “In Cork, character is all that matters.” No truer words were spoken!

Here are just a few that graced the city’s streets in centuries past...

Harry Badger

If you took a walk down South Main Street in the early 1800s, you might come across a striking character parading in a bright red coat, dazzling yellow breeches, and with a large brass helmet on his head

This was Harry Badger; a towering figure, built like a bull, but a harmless soul.

Young scallywags would often tease him and try to take his helmet, so he fixed tall iron spikes to it in order to deter them.

Harry was popular with artists, who would sketch him, and his image was often seen hung on the walls of Leeside homes.

A gentle giant, he was often the victim of cruel pranks. Once, a group of young bucks invited him into a public house on South Main Street and bought him a jug of porter. Just as he put it to his lips, one of the tricksters dropped a live mouse in. Harry failed to notice and in one gulp he downed the porter... and rodent.

The pranksters gave a loud cheer and asked Harry did he notice anything in his drink, to which he replied: “There may have been a fly in it.”

He had a huge appetite. though he claimed he had no taste buds, and his favourite dish was tripe.

In the 1820s, a gang of youths came up with a terrible prank. They cut strips of leather, boiled them in milk with onions and gifted the large pot to Harry. Delighted with what he thought was tripe, he took it and spent two days devouring it. After swallowing the last bit, he died.

Abraham Abell

Abell was born at Popes Quay in 1783, son of a Quaker merchant.

A man of great learning, he was a member of a plethora of academic groups and societies, including the Irish Archaeological Society. He would roam the countryside seeking out ancient monuments, especially ogham stones. Some of those make up the now famous stone corridor at UCC.

Abell was an avid reader and a thirsty collector of books and knowledge, but in 1848, he burned his large book collection in order to start a new one. When he died, he still left behind 4,500 books.

It was said he strapped his legs together and stood up while reading late into the night, just so he would not fall asleep!

He also had a great gra for cats and was often seen with one sat on his shoulder.

For his birthday every year, Abell walked his age in miles. To mark his 58th birthday, he trekked out to Youghal and back to the city.

Abell was a founding member of the Cork Scientific Literary Society and The Cuvierian Society of Cork, which focused on natural science. He was treasurer of Cork Library Society, manager of the Royal Cork Institution and director of the Cork Savings Bank and the Cork Dispensary and Humane Society.

In his retirement, he rented a room in the Cork Institute (now the Crawford Art Gallery) where he lived out the rest of his days with his thousands of books stacked from floor to ceiling. He died in 1851, aged 68.

Atty Hayes

A favourite old saying in Cork to describe something ancient is: ‘It’s as old as Atty Hayes’ goat!’’

Atty Hayes, or to give him his full Christian name, Attiwell, was a well known 18th century figure in Cork.

A successful businessman, he co-founded the Cork Glasshouse Company on Hanover Street and was proprietor of The Lee Mills on the northside of the river.

Atty’s mode of transport was a herd of goats who pulled a little chariot with him in it. His favourite goat lived to a ripe age, hence the saying ‘As old as Atty Hayes’ goat’.

Atty died in 1799 and is buried in the graveyard of St Peter’s, North Main Street. His ancient goat outlived him by a year, and its meat was served at a mayoral banquet!

Atty’s son, Sir Henry Brown Hayes, gained notoriety when he kidnapped heiress Mary Pike and held her prisoner at Vernon Mount House, a dwelling gifted to him by his father.

Vesian Pick

In the 17th century, Cork welcomed 300 Huguenots fleeing religious persecution in France. They thrived in the city’s civic and commercial life and produced a number of mayors, including flamboyant Vesian Pick.

Before taking the chain of office in 1796, he served as city sheriff. Pick had a thick French accent and a thin grasp of the English language. He would lean on his right hand man, Watty Thornhill, to help him over the language barriers.

One thing he wanted to see more of on the streets of Cork were dogs with bow ties on their tails! As mayor, he encouraged dog owners to attach a bow to their dog’s tails before letting them out in public, the brighter the bow the better!

Pick became Mayor just as panic swept Cork - a French expeditionary force were sailing towards the coast to aid the United Irishmen in their fight against British rule in Ireland.

Mayor Pick wrote a letter to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland to describe the panic, one line stated: “Sir, I am writing this with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other.’’

Determined to keep his city safe from the rebels, he used his own money to pay for extra defences.

A storm famously prevented the French from landing at Bantry, and Pick was given a knighthood for his loyalty to the Crown.

A year later, the Lord Lieutenant paid a visit to Cork and Mayor Pick spent £97 entertaining him and his entourage in his mayoral mansion, now The Mercy Hospital.

As the centrepiece of the feast, he wanted a turtle as he heard it was the newest delicacy among the elite - even though he did not know what one looked like!

Watty was sent to get one, and when he arrived back with a turtle sourced from a ship in Cobh, Mayor Pick recoiled in horror :“What is that monster!? Where are its wings!?”

Pick died in 1822, and is buried in the Huguenot graveyard on French Church Street in the city.