Throwback Thursday: Golden memories of a popular Cork band

Well, that story on the Ardmanning Bar last week in Throwback Thursday really got a lot of response from those who remembered it with unbounded affection!

We heard from Conor O’Brien almost immediately: “I loved the article. This was our family’s pub. My grandfather, Seamus O’Brien, ran it (he later had The Tower bar on Barrack Street).

“My dad, Shane O’Brien, and his sister, Karen O’Brien, could tell you lots more about it. Why don’t you contact them?”

Well, we will do just that, Conor, and thank you for letting us know.

Reader Joe Terry was not far behind Conor in responding with vivid memories of the bar in Togher: “Back in the 1970s, and for some period later, the Ardmanning was owned by Seamus O’Brien, a native of Cloughjordan (where my wife hails from), together with his wife who is from the Mayfield side of the Old Youghal Road, Cork,” said Joe.

“Way back, I well remember, my wife and I attended a Tipperary Men’s Association dinner dance in the Ardmanning.

“After their period running the Ardmanning, Seamus and his wife ran a smaller pub in Tower Street. They eventually retired to Kenmare where I understand they still reside.”

Joe added: “You also highlighted The Cotton Ball. Patsy and I lived in Mayfield for four years when we came to Cork, some months after we were married at St Joseph’s Church in Wembley.

“During our time in Mayfield, we enjoyed some great sessions in the Cotton Ball, compèred by Johnny Byrne in the company of a regular accomplice nicknamed Matthew del Rosa.

“Johnny, as I recall, also had a second-hand furniture store near the Lough Church.”

Joe also had more information on Thompson’s Bakery, frequently mentioned in these pages.

“Following up on a reference to Thompson’s Bakery in an earlier Throwback Thursday, I understand Jack Lynch, owner of the Cotton Ball, purchased the bakery premises when the enterprise closed,” he said.

Well, isn’t that great detail, Joe! Thank you so much for sending it in. It all adds to that wonderful jigsaw puzzle that is Cork’s colourful past.

And here is a generous contribution (with pictures!) from Colin Murphy, who is able to fill in many details of Jacqui Daly’s plea for information about the Cork band The Golden Memories in last week’s pages.

“Hi Jo. My sister forwarded me the article sent to The Echo from Jacqui Daly with regard to Throwback Thursday (which by the way is a fantastic addition to The Echo. It’s so nice to see the Cork nostalgia/history alive and well.”

Thank-you for that, Colin. We in The Echo take great pride in this weekly feature which, strangely enough, emerged during the covid pandemic (when we all needed a bit of nostalgia and cheering up) and grew so popular that it was unthinkable to put a stop to it when the pandemic finally eased, and life got back to normal.

We have every intention of keeping it going, and constantly building up the body of information on the old days in our beloved city.

“I’ll give you a little background,” continues our correspondent. “My name is Colin Murphy and I am one of seven kids who grew up in the Ballyphehane area of Cork. My mum, Eileen O’Hara, grew up in Kerry Hall Road. She worked for a time at The Pavilion, and spent many years working at Sunbeam.

“When I read the piece on Ardmanning Bar and the band Golden Memories, I was delighted. My dad, Dominick Murphy (Dommie) was a member of The Golden Memories.

“They consisted of my dad, a tenor who grew up in Greenmount Buildings, Dommie Daly (his first cousin), a tenor who grew up in Ballyphehane, Joe O’Donovan and his daughter Nina O’Donovan (both lovely cabaret singers) from Togher, and Dick O’Sullivan (an organist) from the Lough. All have sadly passed away in the last while.

“As The Golden Memories, they were amazing,” says Colin. “They played cabaret songs, Joe Dolan numbers, Neil Diamond hits, Christmas carols, and even opera.

“They really created a very talented and unique sound, with Dick O’Sullivan on the organ as their only instrument.

“I actually have a CD of them playing live from the Ardmanning Bar in the 1990s. I found an old cassette tape at my parents’ house and got it converted to a CD. It is very nice to have something like that as a memory.

“When my dad passed away a few years ago, I managed to play the CD at the crematorium on Little Island, it was poignant, sad, and somewhat beautiful, if I may say so, to have my dad singing himself to heaven!”

Colin continued: “The Ardmanning Bar has so many personal memories for me too. I had my 21st birthday party there (I am 57 years young now!). We had a celebration of my dad’s sister’s 25th wedding anniversary at the Ardmanning also. It was such a special place for the people of the south side in Cork.

“My dad really was a wonderful singer. In his younger days, he sang at The Arcadia. I actually have a ticket stub from March 17, 1934, in my possession, where my dad performed on that evening.

“The Arcadia was a special place. I believe my mam and dad met there in fact.

“He also sang at The Cotton Ball and The Bodega down through the years, (I was on the Neil Prenderville show a while back, paying tribute to my dad’s singing in Cork. As you can see, I am a very proud son!”

Indeed you are, Colin, and it is marvellous that you have shared your proud memories with us, as well as those priceless images.

What great days those were, when Corkonians who had been blessed with good voices were welcome all over the city and county, singing in bars, clubs, at parties and events.

Back then, you would often hear people singing happily on their way home late at night too – not, as you might think, due to a drink or two, but simply because to sing a melodious verse of a well-known and popular song was a nice thing to do.

Householders would hear the song and smile, nod their heads, maybe even sing along for a bar.

Any chance we could bring that tradition of singing as you made your way home back again? It was a nice one, and entirely fitting for our city of music.

And now to another part of old Cork, Patrick Street itself. Who knows that venerable red brick building close to The Pavilion, now occupied by Dubray Books?

It has seen many occupants over the years, one of the most recent being Gloria Jean’s, where there was always competition to get one of the window seats upstairs, looking out on Pana and observing all the passers-by. (You could get the same bird’s-eye view from The Leprechaun in the 1960s, a delightful little café upstairs over a shop, further back towards the Savoy – who remembers that cosy little haven?)

Anyway, this writer could just remember that old building by The Pavilion being occupied a long, long time ago by a gentleman who dealt in antiquarian books. Masseys, it was called.

I was barely a toddler when my father brought me in there, and I looked around in awe as he discussed ancient volumes and publication dates with the elderly man behind the high wooden counter.

It was very dimly lit (one low-watt bulb dangling from a cord high above) and extremely dusty, but I don’t remember much more about it.

It was only many years later, when reading A Storyteller’s Childhood, the autobiography of that superb children’s writer, Patricia Lynch, that I received a vivid reminder. In the 1930s, when she and her mother and brother were travelling to England by boat, they stopped at Plymouth, and visited a bookshop which, says Lynch, “reminded my mother of Massey’s in Patrick Street.”

Hallelujah! Another reference besides my own meagre memory! There really was such a place!

You can imagine, therefore, how pleased I was to hear from Tim Morley that he too had a memory of that old bookshop.

“Hello, Jo. This week, when I scrolled down Throwback Thursday, you had a picture of the front of The Pav’ cinema from some years back, and with it, or maybe just a few doors down Patrick Street, would be a shop which intrigued me like no other in the city, namely Massey’s, a shop for old second-hand books.

“In his front window, on sale, were not alone old books, but very, very old ones, in particular one from about 1680!

“We, as schoolboys, couldn’t see in, it was rather dusty, and there were no signs of customers. It seems to have been there from before my time and after I left Cork, a period of over 20 years.

“Imagining things, it might have come from the Massey family in Macroom (a part of the town is named Masseytown), perhaps somebody’s inheritance. I simply found it very mysterious that somebody could run a shop in the best site in Cork city for up to 20 years selling obscure items, hardly without demand, and not dying of hunger. Anybody know what was his survival recipe?”

Tim added: “The idea of selling books dating from 1680 - what sort of strange customers could these be?

“Still, in those times when there was not too much money in Cork, I had to make do with the 1896 edition of Caesar’s De Bello Gallico V. It was OK, when I checked, it did have the same text as the 1956 version!”

Well, there were those in our city back then who prized old books, Tim (my father among them!) and would frequent Massey’s in the hope of discovering some really rare treasure.

Now that you have given me to think, I suspect that the gigantic volume of Egyptian hieroglyphics which my father studied avidly (it kept him delightfully occupied during a bout of pneumonia), may have come from there. Dark green covers with gold lettering, I think.

My father loved deciphering and copying those fascinating figures, and my mother, influenced by their charm, actually worked some of them into a copper and enamel belt that she made in a class at the School of Art on Emmet Place. Wonder where that book is now? It was so large I couldn’t lift it, and even in bed my father had to prop it up on pillows.

(Yes, yes, all right. I thought every family habitually propped enormous books up on pillows in order to read comfortably at bedtime. Didn’t they? We certainly didn’t see the practice as anything but normal.)

The next task is definitely to research Massey’s in old Cork directories (you can consult them online via the City Library) and then check for any possible links to Masseytown at Macroom. and indeed the Big House on the hill outside, Mount Massey, now a ruin occupied only by jackdaws. So many stories hidden in our past!

Do you remember Massey’s in Patrick Street, where Dubray Books now stands? Or the shops/cafes that took over the premises when the books had gone? (Yes, we did tell Dubray that they had inherited a former bookshop.)

Come to that, do you remember the Leprechaun Cafe? Or Stella’s in Prince’s Street? Or the Betnu in Tuckey Street? (We won’t ask if you recall the Green Door. Everybody remembers the Green Door…!)

Email jokerrigan1@gmail.com or leave a comment on our Facebook page: www.facebook.com/echolivecork.