Cork schoolboy's secret visits to pig slaughterhouse and city morgue!

I walked in the door of the Model School on Anglesea Street, Cork, in September, 1956, as Paul Martin and came out later that day as Donnacha O’Mairtin — how did that happen?

I had just enrolled in an all-Irish school where allegedly all subjects were taught through Irish — even English! So some of my neighbours thought.

I was christened Denis Paul Martin so they just took Denis and decided I was Donnacha from there on. In later life, if I met a classmate from the Model and they saluted me as Donnacha, that really confused my non-Model School friends, who always knew me as Paul.

I still can’t figure out how I was sent to the Model School as I had moved from Great William O’Brien Street in Blackpool to Connolly Place in Ballyphehane, both a long way from Anglesea Street. Maybe my parents thought I’d get a better class of education there, like my three brothers before me — the jury is out on that one.

The only real benefit I got by going to the Model was that I was top notch in Irish in secondary school at Coláiste Chríost Rí. Us Model boys were welcomed with open arms by the teachers there, who were trying to drive up the standard of Irish.

The downside of going to the Model was there was nothing else going on but the Irish language — no sports, music, school plays, or sports days. I was quite jealous of my friends who were mostly going to Schoil Chríost Rí in Turners Cross who had all of those things.

For Confession, I had to go to a priest in the South Chapel who understood Irish, as none of my local priests were fluent.

The other issue I had was in weights and measures, I never learned the English version and to this day I think in orlach and troigh instead of inches and feet.

The Model School principal, Mossie Donegan, a kindly retired army officer, ran the school like a military camp. On arrival there, we lined up, fingers touching the other pupils’ shoulders, and to shouts of ‘aire, mairseal’ we marched to take our places in the classroom.

Most of the teachers were pleasant, but we had one who terrified me.

I had some unique experiences in the Model, like sitting next to Eoin Lankford of South Terrace who was one of 23 children — now that is not likely to be repeated any time soon by anyone else.

The City Morgue was right across the road from the school and I was a frequent visitor there after lessons ended. I recall sneaking in to view the dead bodies — security was slack — laid out on a big slab, and we could see from the colour of their skin which ones had been pulled out of the river.

On my way home from school with the De Baroid brothers, Ciaran and Niall, we would call to two bacon factories, Lunhams on Sawmill Street and Murphy’s Bacon Factory on Evergreen Road. We got a real close-up view of the poor pigs meeting their end, being held upside down and having their throats cut.

Two other classmates had direct access to Albert Quay Shunting Yard — where the South Link Road petrol station is today — due to the fact their father worked for CIE and they had a back door access to the yard. We roamed freely among the trains travelling to and from Bandon and looked on as the workers added and removed the carriages.

One of my favourite memories was when the world yoyo champion visited the Model School and showed all of his tricks — Walk the Dog, Rock The Baby, Sidewinders, etc. We all went looking for money to buy a yoyo so we too could become the next world champion.

Another favourite after-school pastime of mine was to visit the ships loading and unloading at the docks with my friend, Martin Parfrey of Albert Road. We would often go on board for a look around, and our mothers of course had no idea where we were. We particularly liked the ships that unloaded the chocolate crumb as the dockers would always give us some samples to bring home.

The top radio programme at the time was The School Around The Corner with Paddy Crosbie. I remember auditioning for it by singing Every Night I Sit Here by My Window, a hit at the time for Bobby Darin, but I was too nervous and forgot the words — my singing career cut short by a memory lapse.

The other big stand-out memories at that time were JFK’s visit to Cork in June, 1963, and the fire at Sutton’s in Cork city five months later, a week after JFK was shot.

The fire removed an iconic building from the end of South Mall to be replaced by an ugly one. I will never forget the experience of seeing JFK close up at the end of the South Mall and also getting really close as his helicopter took off at Kennedy Park on The Boggy Road.

When I pass down Anglesea Street now and see The Model School in its new life as a courthouse, I stop and think of all the fine memories I have of my time there. I have even better memories of my time going to and coming from school, which I consider to be quite unique.

In my time at the Model between 1956 and 1963, there were some questionable judgements handed down to pupils. I hope the current ‘pupils’ who seek justice there do better than some of those in the past.

MORGUE ON THE MOVE

In the 1950s, Cork city morgue was on a Corporation site on Anglesea Street that also included, rather incongruously, a meat-testing department, weighbridge, and veterinary departments.

All these functions were relocated when the new fire station was opened on the site in 1975 - 50 years ago this year - and the morgue transferred to White Street. It moved to CUH at the turn of the millennium.