Throwback Thursday: 'I still have the pram I got from Kilgrew’s in Cork city'

The powers-that-be seem to be considering enormous changes to our beloved city in connection with a proposed Luas line sweeping in and across the long-established landscape with all its history and associations.

Perhaps most worrying is the suggestion of a fixed bridge across the Lee near Kent railway station, thus blocking all taller marine traffic from coming up to our docks, our city, with its ancient maritime history.

Sailors, travellers, traders, and merchants have known of the welcoming stretches of the Lee for thousands of years. Why, indeed, would the Vikings have taken such trouble to establish their major trading port here if it were not obvious that it was ideal for the purpose?

Since forever we have lived with river traffic, been familiar with the sounds of ship hooters, the rattle of chains as goods are unloaded, the movement to and from the quaysides, first by horse and cart, later by trucks and lorries.

How many generations of Cork folk have worked down on the docks, become familiar with every visiting vessel, got to know crews from strange lands with their cargoes? How long have we had those old world pubs with special hours for dockers coming off duty at strange hours while the rest of the city is still asleep?

Who can remember the blare of hooters and sirens at midnight on New Year’s Eve from all the assembled boats moored on the river’s divided branches? And who can forget the sight of the magnificent old Innisfallen sailing majestically upstream in the early morning, seeming almost to bow to left and right to its people as it neared its traditional and honoured berth on Horgan’s Quay?

OK, so times moved on and sailing ships no longer tie up by the Opera House or Trinity Church as they used to in times gone by, while the Innisfallen, in its newer and larger style, moved down to Tivoli (and today’s far bigger ferries, requiring much deeper water, now berth at Ringaskiddy) - but the trading boats still tie up at our quays, still provide employment for so many, whether loading and unloading, or bringing and removing the cargoes. And they continue to create that wonderful atmosphere of international merchandising and contact between different lands.

That has always been the heart of Cork, and our festivals celebrating our link with the sea have always been supported by every Corkonian with justifiable pride in our history and our heritage.

So, where would these facilities go if the taller river traffic such as cruise ships, tall ships, and naval vessels were brutally blocked by such a swingeing proposal? Down river to Dunkettle?

And would all those currently involved in working on our docklands have to move there too?

Is there a danger the vibrant life and business of our quaysides is to be replaced by faceless blocks of apartments, movement and colour and activity giving way to silence and concrete? The Lee running silent and abandoned? Does no-one care for our historic city and its priceless heritage?

Just think back for a minute. Didn’t we have the Cork and Muskerry light railway running west out of the city? And the Blackrock and Passage one going the other way, serving all the communities? What did we do? We closed them down, pulled up the tracks.

Now they are considering wrecking the city and its outskirts, creating years of havoc and distress, even moving long-established buildings, to do the same things all over again? They cannot be serious!

Here is one nice simple idea for the city powers to consider: why not run a cable car from Black Ash Park and Ride up to the airport? Other countries have had far longer cable cars up to far higher points.

Travellers could park easily at Black Ash and take themselves and their luggage up to the airport. Think about that instead of even speculating on a long-term disaster plan!

Moving to happier memories (but still staying with railways), Rick Davitt has shared some recollections prompted by recent articles in Throwback Thursday.

“Mention of John Connolly, legend of dining car fame, brought me back to the early to mid 1960s,” he says, “when during my school summer holidays I worked with John on the Cork to Rosslare boat train.

“John was out front, of course, and I was barman, cook and kitchen boy. Just the two of us to run the show. Breakfast on the way to Rosslare and high tea (imagine!) on the homeward journey.

“It was the most picturesque railway journey although I saw little of it. After Mallow, it crossed over the road on its way to Fermoy, and the remains of that bridge are still visible opposite the station. The line closed in 1967 and part of it is now the Waterford greenway.”

Rick recalls: “Meeting the passengers in Rosslare, you could see they were so happy to be coming home to Ireland and their families, with money in their pocket and the prospect of a great holiday.

“It was so much different on the journey back to England . The smiles in their eyes were replaced by tears. Their brown cardboard cases held closed by a belt. The thoughts of their lonely often damp bedsit, replacing the happy times with friends and family. The long wait until the next trip home.”

Rick, you evoke such memories of those emigrant days, the happy homecomings, the saddened return to Birmingham or Dagenham. Thank-you for sharing!

And guess who else we have heard from!

Remember a week or so back when we mentioned an expat Corkonian lady up in Nenagh who said she read Throwback Thursday avidly every week online, because she couldn’t get the Echo up there? Well, now Helen McCormack (nee Coughlan) has got back in touch.

“How delighted I was when I read The Echo online at 8am, to see me mentioned in your great column!” said Helen.

“I have often said how delightful it would be to have ALL your columns in a book, it would truly be a great read.

“I have many, many great memories of growing up in Cork, although getting them down on paper is another story.

“One memory that does stand out for me is going to Kilgrew’s Toys on Merchants Quay. I was brought to town walking from Horgans Buildings to buy a dolls’ pram. I was only about four years old or even less.

“I don’t remember the pram being bought, but I do remember insisting on walking home along Patrick Street, passing Woolworths, wheeling my wonderful new pram, hitting or as we would say in Cork ‘bashing into people,’ my poor Dad apologising for me.

“I still possess that dolls’ pram today, in poor condition, but it harbours so many lovely memories of playing with our dolls and the very happy childhood days we had.

“All of us little girls loved our dolls, washing their hair, and never getting the hair to look right afterwards! How we spent hours playing together so innocent, and then we also progressed later to scraps, anyone remember them?! Swapping and filling our books. I am fortunate to have such memories of a very happy childhood growing up in Cork.”

And we want to know more, Helen! Plus of course a picture of that beloved pram, bought in Kilgrew’s so long ago. Go and snap it right now, and send it in with some more of your childhood recollections.

Memories of Whitegate 

Micheál Kenefick’s memories of Whitegate in the ’50s and ’60s last week have been very popular, so we asked him if there really were so many wonderful shops and services in the village back then.

Well of course, he replied. There were even more!

“A few doors down from where I left off last time was another bakery and grocery store selling freshly baked bread, plus a daily delivery in the bread van,” recalled Micheál.

“Sugar weighed into brown paper bags in 2lb lots, and tea from a chest into lighter bags in 8oz. lots. Biscuits were weighed from the tin and sold mostly in quarter or half pounds. Kimberly, Mikado and Coconut Creams in pink and white staring at us from their glass topped boxes and an ache in our gut to get at them. The same bags used over and over again.

“Next door, another haberdashery which sold the first ripple ice cream and the first crisps in the village.

“Around the corner a tavern famed in song and story, cursed by the women and adored by the men. ‘Out in the distance the Green Boat was seen and she steerin’ like blazes for Hector McLeans’.

“Next door to that infamous pub was a Muslim gentleman who sold clothes door to door, initially on a bicycle, then a motorbike, and finally a small car. All sorts of exotic stuff – aprons and dresses and collars for shirts, working clothes and Sunday clothes and he would settle for a few bob a week or month.”

Micheál continues his mental journey: “Next door was The Bayview Hall (without a view of the bay.) Here, under one roof, you had a cinema, theatre, dance hall, meeting place, casino, and indoor sports arena.

“Ivanhoe, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and Shane. The Black and King travelling show and McFaddens - packed to the rafters for the week - Noreen Bán - My Little Grey Home in the West.

“Across the road, another large pub and out the back The Coalstore with a mountain of coal, massive shovels, weighing scales and weights, bagged in hundredweights and delivered door to door in a horse and cart.

“One more shop, 50 yards from the village up the Hill Road. The women of the Middle Road and Hill Road would shop there, so there would be no need to ‘get ready’ to go down the village.

“Further up the hill, the barber, bard and bicycle repair shop where young and old were clipped to the bone once a month. A queue of children on Saturday afternoon and a queue of adults at night on their way from confession before Confraternity Sunday and onwards to the pub.

“The rest of our needs were taken care of by a commercial traveller from Hilser’s in Cork who cycled to the village once a month selling and taking for repairs watches, clocks, and jewellery and from whom we bought our first breadknife.

“A man came every week to collect the insurance so that we could be buried decent.

“Pots and pans, holy pictures and statues and an occasional bit of lino for the floor were supplied by regular visits from the tinkers, a term we used with affection. We regarded them as our friends and they would always be brought in for the tea or a bit of dinner.

“There would be whoops of joy in the Middle Road when we would see them at the cross and we would run to meet them to get a spin in the pony and trap.”

Micheál continues: “In the parish, we had three priests, a minister, four schools and teachers, a guards barracks with three guards and a sergeant, a manned lighthouse, weather station and fog station.

“We had a doctor, a midwife, a chiropodist, a cobbler, a blacksmith, a farrier, a tailor, and several dressmakers.

“We had a thatcher, a finishing school, a bus to mass, surprise bus tours from Cork, a bonfire, Queen of the May, The Wren, The Amusements and - the jewel in the crown - Whitegate Annual Regatta and Dance with razzle dazzle to rival Roxie Hart’s Chicago.

“And they say we’re better off today? Progress me arse!”

Share your own memories with us.

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