Throwback Thursday: Lyrics from that legendary Pres song and cinema memories

We have the words for the legendary Pres rugby team song, following our appeal in last week’s Throwback Thursday!

Or, we should say, songs, since there were several, all to the tunes of well-known popular hits.

Our thanks to Richard Mills, who was presented with this typed sheet when he first arrived at the school many decades ago, and somehow preserved it in his extensive archives.

That faded typewritten sheet of yesteryear might be a bit difficult to read, so here is one sample:

Proudly the war cry of Pres is resounding,

All over Munster rings out its refrain.

Proudly the boys of our college are marching

Onward to victory and glory to gain!

Over the hilltops right proudly our banners fly,

Never to furl till victory we gain,

Proudly the boys of our college are marching,

Onward to victory and glory to gain!

Now come ON, former Christians boys! Let’s hear your song. Surely you can remember? It was all the world to you back then, so let us share those memories.

Meanwhile, reader Tom Jones writes to say that, once again, he much enjoyed reading other reminiscences of going to the movies in Cork fado, fado.

“Nice to hear that other people, as in Eileen Barry, also enjoyed the type and range of films shown in the Ritz, be they risqué, foreign, or shall we say Continental?” said Tom.

“Was the Ritz the avant-garde Cork cinematic experience?”

However, continues Tom, he has two queries for our esteemed readers and their vast collective knowledge regarding, firstly, moviegoing, and secondly, radio shows.

“Firstly, the many stairs to the gods in the Savoy from the side street have been mentioned on a few occasions. I can recall descending them but have no recollection of ascending the same.

“I was wondering if there were not an equal number of stairs (if not more) from the balcony of the Palace to the exit door located on Patrick’s Quay?”

Now that’s an interesting question. Anybody remember going into the Palace from the quayside?

Secondly, Tom, is wondering about a radio programme which aired back in the late 1950s or early 1960s.

“I lived on Shandon Street until about 1957 or ’58,” says Tom. “On many a cold, dreary, damp, windy, rainy night, we would tune in while sitting in front of the fireplace in the front room.

“Anyway, I clearly recall listening to the wireless on a certain weeknight, around 10pm, when a programme I always thoroughly enjoyed would come on air.

“I suppose the mere mention of the wireless will stir up memories for many who may recall constantly fiddling with the knobs in order to keep a clear reception of Radio Luxembourg, in particular with the prevailing weather conditions.

“This programme I speak of consisted of a story, which, be it mysterious, dramatic, or scary, never failed to deliver the goods, always capturing my imagination.

“It may well have been sponsored by a company, or produced by the station itself, I cannot recall, and I probably wasn’t interested in its origins at that time, just the story itself.

“But I have never forgotten the parting words of the presenter before dramatic music closed out the production. The words expressed, forever embedded in the recesses of my mind, were ‘Well, goodnight now, and pleasant dreams…’.

It was said, I seem to recall, with a slightly threatening amusement of tone.

Tom continues: “I understand this may be quite a conundrum for anyone with so little information to begin with, based only on the sign-off phrase of the host. Yet I wonder if any of your readers recall the name or any other information of that late night radio story from so many years ago?”

Another one for our readers, whose memories are crammed with the facts and realities of yesteryear. Can you remember the programme? What it was called?

This writer well remembers the Sunday night thriller, which could be Dan Dare, or The Singing Spider, but a midweek one, no. Let’s hear from you all!

But back to the movies, and a real gem from Rom Hyde, son of the famous Gladys Leach, that well-known Cork artist.

You may recall that Throwback Thursday reader Tim Cagney mentioned Gladys as the actual writer of the words that were put up on the screen at the Savoy to accompany Fred Bridgeman’s organ music. She was, of course, well known for her skilled artistic work as well, especially those wonderful drawings of our city’s finest buildings.

But what is of particular interest to the current topic is the fact that, in March, 1932, at the tender age of 15, she became the first ‘pagette’ or usher at the Savoy!

The construction of the huge cinema that was to become an icon of Cork culture was just being completed, and they were advertising for staff.

Gladys duly applied for a position as a pagette, whose job was to stand on the upper vestibule and hand out programmes to the patrons, explains her son, Rom.

“The interview for the position was conducted in a reception room in the Imperial Hotel. ‘A man sat on a chair in the centre of the room,’ she told me, ‘and, dressed in the pagette’s uniform, complete with a cap, stockings and high heels, I had to walk around the room as he looked me over,’ she recalled.

“My only comment was ‘the feckers wouldn’t get away with that today, Mum!’”

And indeed they wouldn’t, Rom!

But it is a marvellous vignette of what life and prospects were for an energetic young lady growing up in 1930s Cork.

Working at the splendid Savoy Cinema! And probably getting the occasional free pass for her friends and family. Wouldn’t she have been worth cultivating!

For herself, Gladys must have seen more than enough of every movie – especially if the run was extended for a further week or even more.

Rom has even found a picture of the young Gladys in that very uniform which he has generously shared with us.

He has more wonderful stories to share, including his mother’s original design of the famous Cork Dry Gin label, and of course the writing of the latest hit songs on those glass slides we all remember singing along to as they were projected up on the screen.

We will most certainly revisit the whole Gladys Leach story over the next few weeks, remembering just how much she did for the city she loved.

Yes, the story of just how those song slides were created too, on the family kitchen table with all the kids lending a hand.

Never miss Throwback Thursday. You don’t know what flashes of memory it will awake in your own mind. And if it does, don’t delay – send them in to us.

Did you ever meet someone special on the steps of the Savoy? Revel in the trendy delights of The Talk of the Town underneath the cinema, where you could enjoy freshly-made warm doughnuts? Perhaps, just perhaps, you were taken up to the dizzy heights of afternoon tea in that elegant lounge?

Now to another icon of Patrick Street past – Roches Stores.

We have heard from Finbarr Buckley, who worked there for many years and still regrets its passing. As do we all, Finbarr, as do we all.

He is organising a get-together reunion of former staff members at Clancy’s on Friday, May 23, to mark the 20th anniversary of its final full year before it passed into the hands of Debenhams (now of course disappeared too), and Finbarr hopes to meet all his old friends again there.

But it’s not just the staff that have memories – how about all of you, your parents and grandparents, who shopped at Roches Stores over generations? What memories do you hold of going through those doors, heading for the counter that would meet your needs?

Knitting wool, sheeting, ladies’ wear, gents’ shoes, furniture – you could get everything under one roof from the same reliable shop.

Then there were the big sales in January and July when one season was being cleared to make way for the next. The dizzy excitement of the supermarket being opened – was that the late 1960s or the early 1970s? The change from imperial to decimal coinage?

All our memories of Cork are surely tied up with the friendly reassuring presence of Roches Stores, always there, always able to provide whatever you wanted.

Let us hear your memories of this grand old establishment in its heyday. (You won’t remember its suffering in The Burning of Cork, but maybe your grandmother told you about it, so let’s hear her stories too.)

And we will bring Finbarr Buckley’s own memories of his 20 years working there to the Throwback Thursday pages too. Never fear. From either side of the counter, we want to hear them all!

Finally, do you remember that we are in the middle of Lent? Gosh, back a couple of decades ago, there wasn’t much chance of forgetting this penal period!

Church, school, and authorities everywhere, enforced the fasting and self-purging mandatory on every Catholic, nowhere more so than in Cork, ruled with an iron fist by Bishop Cornelius Lucey.

Remember that rule about just one cup of tea and one biscuit, which was all that was allowed to stave off faintness in those fasting sessions? And how that rule spawned the legendary Connie Dodger?

During Lent, some Cork cafes (the credit is usually given to The Green Door, but others have claimed the idea too) began to offer a special biscuit with that cup of tea. Huge, comforting, a meal in itself, but still undeniably a single biscuit. One kept you going for the rest of the day.

They must have made life bearable for many who were already stretched to the limit by the demands of Lent, wondering how they could get through their working day with stomachs growling in misery, heads dizzy with faintness.

So, imagine Mary O’Leary’s delight when she came across this very luxury in a most unexpected location the other day!

“I was on a walk with extended family in Farran Wood and was delighted to see that the snacks on offer at the coffee truck included Connie Dodgers! Blank faces among some of the family at my shrieks. I couldn’t believe it.

“For the readers who don’t remember the grim fasting rules you and I grew up with Jo, under the severe regime of Connie Lucey, a cup of tea and a single biscuit was regarded as enough to keep body and soul together.

“An enterprising Cork cafe started selling home-made biscuits the size of a saucer and others quickly followed. They were nicknamed Connie Dodgers and the name stuck forever. Should we campaign to get the name recognised like the Waterford Blaa?”

Now there’s a thought, Mary! Certainly we should protect our priceless local culture. Will put it up to the Government the next chance I get.

In the meantime, let’s hear your own memories, of Connie Dodgers, of cinemagoing, of old radio shows. Email jokerrigan1@gmail.com or leave a message on our Facebook page: www.facebook.com/echolivecork.