The Towers to Tourin

Paddy Geoghegan

Lismore town boasts a reputation for it's choice of high class Restaurants. In my young day's it was known for the amount of Pubs it had. At that time my favourite shops were Jimmy and Biddy Fenton's in Ferry Lane, Teasy Meades in Main Street, and by no means last and least, Tom & Bridie Savage. Canty's Willoughby's and Scanlons were occasional. Lismore has changed big time since I went to School in the Convent and the Christian brothers.

In the Covent that time, all the country lads got scalding hot Cocoa and a bun with icing on top at lunch time. In the wintertime we would be in like a bikeshed, perishing cold and wet and this Ponny of scalding Cocoa, the heat of the Cocoa and the cold of our bodies somehow combined to make us want to pee, urgently, you had no place to set down the ponny and you definitely couldn't leave the bun, some of us, myself included, got an extra bun from Sr of Angelis. that meant we could stuff down the first bun and take our time licking the icing off the second one. In the evening time we would have to collect Milk from Tobins who lived in a cottage in "Bells" yard and later Peader Hickey's and Crowleys in South Mall. A bottle of Pineapple juice from Biddy Fenton in Ferry Lane and the day was just starting to brighten up. God be very good to Biddy and Jimmy Fenton, two of lifes greatest.

We got parcels now and again, there could be boots or a jumper inside. Hob nailed boots made a grand noise and they were great for skating on the concrete down by Peader Hickeys. The nuns - God love them - tried to teach us Irish dancing one evening a week, the seven-side-step, twenty or more of us on a timber floor, with hobnail boots, the noise was deafening. One of the Nuns had a thing about fingernails and how we should all be able to see a half moon of white at the bottom of the nail, she showed us how to push back the skin so that we could see this marvel - We tried of course, but somehow it didn't work with nails that spent most of their time picking spuds or thinning beet, anyhow I never achieved the perfect half moon that she wanted, Today as a I look down, I see no Moon ... What would she say. God Love Her. It was my first real contact with townies, to me they were an alien species, they appeared and dissapeared during the day, going to lunch and back or run down home and back. They dressed different and they wore shoes. There was no love lost between the country and the town boys, having said that, I acknowledge my best friends Chris O'Dowd and Tommy Savage were townies, although they fell outside the strict definition, because Chris was a Protestant and Tommy had his roots in Ballysaggart. John Murphy would be my bestest friend, we lived beside each other and grew up together, John lives in Brighton for many years now. If you ever get to read this John, get in touch. Murphy's had a wireless, and Timmy (R.I.P.) got the "Independent" every day, first thing was to read the "Cisco Kid & Pancho" on the Independent and then settle in to hear Hospital Requests, a very useful way to find out if an aquaintance had fallen ill and it generally mentioned someone that was known, this was the source of many great conversations. Or it could be Jimmy Shand, the music was magic, there could be ten or twelve people sitting in Murphy's tiny room listening to the Radio. Our main source of light was a "Tilly Lamp" it hissed away giving light and heat until it wheezed and someone had to get up and pump it, as it was pumped it gradually regained it's hiss and the light came back on full, brilliant invention, the Tilly Lamp is still manufactured to this day. Bill Murphy used to make furniture, chairs and stuff like that with very simple tools, the seats were Sugain, a rope made of hay twisted together. over the years of use these chairs were dragged over rough stone and concrete floors and the legs got shorter and shorter, at home in Ballysaggart they still have a few of Bill Murphy's chairs, by now no more than a few inches off the floor.

  One of our Postmen, Dan O'Connell, Tourtane, had a watch on a chain, we used to ask him every morning "What time is it Dan" just to watch him fumble for this watch, eventually he caught on and his reply was always "Ten to Nine" with a big smile, after that. Mick Brien was our longest serving Postman. Our Postmen were the bearers of all sorts of goodies, they could have cardboard boxes with holes in them full of live day old Chickens, they carried the long awaited present at high points in our lives, for Confirmation I got a watch that Mam bought off a newspaper Advt from Dublin, the arrival of the watch was sought daily, the postman knew what we were waiting for and his expression said it all, until that momentous day that he actually had the watch. The watch in question lasted for thirty years or more, My father had it to the time of his death wrapped in a hanky. At one time we had to get a Bible, for School, and it had to be Simon & Schuster, nothing else, it was ordered and awaited in anticipation, only to be the wrong one when it arrived, we eventually got the right one, but was it ever read, I can't remember now. Come to think of it, where would we get time to read it, Cows to be looked after Calfs to be fed Pigs and Chickens, and the perinnial Spuds, Planting hoeing rising hoeing spraying hoeing rising Digging Picking and Pitting them, even then they had to be "Turned" to take out any rotten one. But we always found time for Hurling, flaking a ball against our back door until Mam would hunt us.

In the earliest days we had Helen, John and Margaret Murphy, Myself and Johnny, Michael came much later. We had a short cut across the Golf links, or the Rookery and met the Brackets and Gormans at the Ice houses. In the wintertime the Blackwater flooded onto the road at Ansons, often we would have to walk along the top of the wall on the ice house side, and if the Mill boreen was flooded, well you had no choice but to turn back home. We sometimes filled our boots with water and went home anyway, explaining that we REALLY tried to get through the water. John Murphy and myself nearly always arrived late for school, Br Blake would get both classes to rise and give us a big bow for turning up, the sarcasm was lost on myself and John. The Brothers was a real culture shock, We had O'Connors and McMahons from Cappoquin who turned up every day in a suit and tie and Brylcreem'd hair. Myself, John Murphy, Harry Coleman, Bobby Fraher, John Cahill - we were normal, although Harry Hill and the Dahills were within "Normal" as well fair play to them. Blake was a GAA fanatic, his Tuath / Baile Games on a Friday gave us a chance to leather the townies, one way or another. Although very few Tuath players ever got picked for any serious games.

In the Brother's, Brothers Blake and Murphy, they had two classes each up to sixth class. Blake to me was an inspired genius, he had a passion for Opera which he transmitted to the students. He had a school band, we all played the Tin whistle and the Mouth organ. we learned about the "Great" Sir Malcolm Sargent or Sir John Barberolli or Sir Thomas Beecham - La traviata - Madame Butterfly, we knew what was meant by Crescendo Pianissimo Adante Lente and much more. All this was in the woodwork room, where the Gym equipment was stored, Jack Frazier was our Gym man, he was good, he was treated with respect by everyone cos he could make life hard for any smart alec in the class. Brother Murphy had 5th and 6th Classes, my memories of him are not good, he once broke two knuckles on my right hand with the duster, but he did have good points, we got to pick the Gooseberry's and the Blackcurrants in the garden for him. those berries were just the job.

I left school at 13 so I was in 5th class when I left, Michael McGrath was a year or so ahead of me and it was he who taught me the Latin to serve Mass. Mind you he didn't teach me the Sed libre nos a mala or Slippery road to Mallow version. The Bell was the ultimate job for an alter boy, achieved with seniority. Serving Mass was great cos we got to serve at the Stations, a morning off school, loads of food and a few bob from the farmer. Frank and Kitty Hale (Nee Clance) Ballyin, was a great house to attend the stations.

In the Inch opposite Ansons, the Castle fishermen stretched the ropes prior to the season, we often watched as they looped the big ropes around trees and pulled them by horse. Not many people know that the ridges running across this Inch was for collecting ice. There is a drain at one end, near the bridge and another at the top, the top one was opened and the bottom one closed so that the inch flooded up to the height of the ridges. I never remember them doing that though.

Snobby Barry is one that I recall, Snobby came round the towers fencing, he was a big man and he drove pointed stakes into the ground with a mallet, he was a joy to watch, the big mallet swung in an arc and smacked this stake half way to the earths core. Sean Cashman drove the Fordson Major tractor, was it a single cylinder ?, it belched rings of blue smoke as it puffed it's way into the Castle sawmill.

John and Paddy Clance were Woodmen, they worked for the Castle. The first Chainsaw I ever saw, was when John Clance bought a Danarm, nobody was quite sure how this beast worked, including John, and beast it was, a massive engine at one end and a handle at the other end of the blade so that two people could operate it. The day they decided to have a go at it, we were all gathered around it in Clances Car House, where Jack Clance kept his Trap, after looking at all the controls and discussing the best way to go about starting it, the moment had arrived to bring it to life. After several attempts and much twiddling of chokes and other apparently very important gadgets the Beast roared into life, the small shed rattled with the sound and quickly filled with smoke, unsure where the whirring blade was in the confusion, the best that could be done was roar TURN IT OFF but how? eventually of course it stopped whether by intervention or good fortune. Smoke induced tears streaming from our eyes we stumbled outside to be met by a very very angry Jack Clance, the noise had nearly given the poor man a stroke. That was the last I ever saw of the Danarm. Beech and Oak trees were being felled that simply could not be lifted even when cut into lenghts, they bored holes into them, filled them with gelignite and bang, that's how they split the very big ones. John was a Master Sawyer, people brought huge Salmon Belly Crosscuts for him to edge and set the gap. Paddy and John were our constant companions at the Towers.

No house out there had a water supply, until my father and the Clance's built a Tank at the top of Clances field, ran a Wavin pipe down to Clances and put a tap on the wall, still there today. Great we now had to walk only 50 Yards for water, But, there's always a but, Frogs spawned in the Tank, the small frogs came down the pipe and got stuck in the tap, we would be filling a bucket and out pops a frog leg, the rest of the frog too big to come through, so we had no choice but pull the leg and take the frog out bit by bit.

Tom O'Donoghue in his piece mentions Mick (The Mowler) Landers on his motorbike, we had two regulars, Mossy O'Connors from Cappoquin heading to the Aerodrome in Fermoy - the home of the 1st Motor Squadron and the AA Patrol Bike. Mossy passed about the same time each morning, we didn't need a clock cos it was roughly quarter past eight. The AA Bike could pass at any time, if we were at home and heard the AA Bike we would run down the wood to watch him make his way noisily down Ballywayna, maybe a bit in awe of this unknown person heading to Fermoy in search of broken down cars. Cars that were there, we knew by sound and sight.

Later on in life I rode motorbikes in the Presidential Escort, for President DeValera, with the 2nd Motor Squadron, Cathal Brugha Barracks.

My Uncle, John Joe Troy, had a Quigley, (Kate Pender described it as John Joe's Wheels) would it count as a motorbike though, considering you had to do as much peddling as you did just riding on it, John Joe, a staunch Ballysaggart GAA man, and my Aunt Bridie lived in Shanavoola before they moved to Botany. My father was mortified to hear that John Joe scuffled the spuds by towing a rock behind the Quigley up and down the furrows, whether he ever actually did it is immaterial, my father thought he did, and spuds to Jack were akin to religion, sacred, to be treated with respect, and John Joe knew how to rise Jack. There is a Book at least on John Joe and his exploits, on one occasion, he brought a group to a Waterford Game in Thurles, the tyres gave out one by one until a request for assistance had to be transmitted to Lismore, my brother in-law Pete Kitching, home on holidays with my sister Eileen, loaded his car with whatever tyres he could get from Johnny Feeney, and headed off in the direction of Thurles, next morning the sorry convoy arrived back in Lismore with all sorts of combination wheel / tyres on John Joe's car. As ever he was in the best of form and shrugged the whole thing off, donned his paint streaked overalls and off to work, he was I suppose a Phantom painter decorator, cos he had so many jobs on the go all at once that his clients only caught glimpses of him now and again. A marvellous charachter and a true Ballysaggart man.

On the bridge on the castle/town side is where the old men sat, there used to be a stone that they used to sharpen their penknives for cutting Plug tobacco. Johnny Poole was a regular so was Guard Troy [John] neither smoked that I recall. Fop and Sturk Stapelton and a few more. The stone is still there, but like those who made it bright and shining with their knives, it is now just an unremarkable hollowed out cut in the stone, almost forgotten. I watched Johnny Poole on the Bridge saying the act of contrition to Moss Landers, Ballysaggart,  after he had fallen off his bike under the wheels of a Circus wagon.

The most momentous event, not for Lismore but the world took place in October 1957, the launch of "Sputnik" a Russian Satellite. The Towers was a great place to "Observe" because we had no light pollution. We stood for hours in the freezing cold to catch a glimpse of this marvel soaring through the heavens, all the time listening to John Clance and my father ponder the end of the world. In a sense they were right of course, it was the end or rather the beginning of a new world. A few months later the Russians sent up another Satellite with the dog "Laika" onboard. "The Cow that jumped over the moon" never sounded so crazy after that. Just two years later, Waterford won the All Ireland Hurling Championship -- I wonder !!! The bonfire at the Monument to welcome the team is a sight never to be forgotten. Imagine trying to light a Bonfire there today - for any reason. The tidy town's people would have your guts for garters.

A little later on, 1960, Chubby Checker and Hank Ballard, Bill Haley and the Comets, Elvis Presley - The TWIST arrived, denounced at Mass as a wholly uncatholic and dangerous turn of events, we would all go to hell in a basket if this lewd dance ever caught on, God love them, Mam and Mrs Murphy had a good giggle about it on the way home from Mass. The Brideside Serenaders were in for a bit of a Re-vamp, The Clipper Caralton Showband - and others too numerous to mention entertained us in the Court House, Boathouse, Red Barn, Tallow, Glenville, in hindsight, the Twist had more influence on our everyday life than Sputnik. Some dancegoers were proffesionals, they took centre stage, they defied the laws of Physics - Gravity - Anatomy and more besides, Skin tight trousers, Winklepicker shoes, Brylcreem and hair does, and that was just the Fellas. It was pure Americana, straight from the reels shown at Doc Healy's. I fell deeply in love for the first time in my life, with Connie Francis, Concetta Rosa Maria Franconero, sadly nothing ever came of it, just as well, she probably wouldn't be much good at milking a cow or snagging turnips. On music, The Dubliners played in the Boathouse with Maggie Barry "The Singing Tinker" They were so polluted with drink, they were Langers, but it was standing room only in the hall, the heat, the music, the smell of perfume, the fumes from hair spray - the ridiculous rock hard hairdo's, inebriated fellas trying to get a shift, and the girls waiting for Bobby Darin to ask them. Fantastic.

Some charachters, Poole, Bobby Bible, Jim Slog, Kevvy Noonan, Bill Moore, Paddy the Gas. Dr Healy's cinema and Uniakes chip shop. The nicest chips I ever had were the ones made by John O'Connor in chaple street, loads of salt and cooked in dripping. did Hoagy, Billy Hogan have chips as well? can't remember. Myself and John Murphy sometimes walked from Lismore to Cappoquin for a bag of chips and then walked back to the towers. If we were lucky we got a spin from Pad Dunne, Ballysaggart, Pad had theory about washing cars, or not, or Michael Gorman, he had a black Mercedes, or, we waited till Tommy Uniake was going back to Cappoquin and we got a spin from him, along with his pet fox, we would smell strongly of fox by the time we got to the Boathouse, no wonder the girls gave us a wide berth. Our first stop in Cappoquin would be the back room in Jimmy Foley's, we would tank up on "Ginger Beer" Remember the spout, John Farrell or Guyler Greehy filling up a horse drawn water butt, Paddens Ryan with his single cylinder diesel pump on a concrete base, pumping water up to Lismore.

I bottled Guinness in almost every pub in town at one time or another, washing hundreds of bottles in cold water, filling them and sticking on the labels, every Pub had it's own label. Worked as a delivery boy for Redmond & Sheila Daly, drove Billy the pony and rode the bike with the big basket in front, until I knocked down poor Bina Devin outside Glass's shop one day, Sorry again Bina. Bought the first "Transistor Radio" from Michael Feeney, cos we had no electricity. I spent some time with Jim & Jean [RIP] Sheehan, Butchers when Jim had a slaughterhouse in what is now the new extension of the hotel. Worked in the Ummer Quarry With Johnny Grady setting explosive charges, and the Gelignite boxes we brought back to the Lodges to use as insulation under the slates. We well knew who Alfred Nobel was, because his name was on all the boxes. To wake up on a frosty morning and see the silver sheen on the boxes, that would make you want to curl up and stay where you were.

Myself and Chris [O'] Dowd decided we had enough of Lismore, we headed off to York, England, my sister still lives there, from the railway station in Lismore, first to Dublin North Wall then Liverpool by cattle boat and York. we didn't like York so we bought a map of England and picked the biggest industrial area within reach of our pockets, Manchester. Arriving at Lime Street station with no contacts and very little money we did what all the best emigrant stories tell us, we went into a Pub beside the fish market, explained our position and within a short time a John Bell came in, we had a chat and lo and behold we had lodgings with his Mother, Annie Bell, a dear gentle lady who told me all about Allen Larkin and O'Brien, the Manchester martyr's, in a new council house in Ancoats, we got jobs on the construction of the College or University tending Italian tilers.

Through John Bell and his son Vinny I ended up working on gasometres for the northwestern gas board mainly in Trafford Park, as a steel erector, and Chris headed for sunny Australia - Good times Chris... Unloading the Dublin lorry in Dowd's yard, Tom Crotty, Chris Oakham. The boss asked Tom Crotty one evening about a scratch on the bumper of his lorry, Toms reply was, Bumpers - are for bumping. A Gentleman, Horace Dowd, and his lady wife Grace, she told me she dropped the O' part because if she used her initials they would spell GOD... They had a huge American car in the yard, a Borg Warner which we all had a go at driving. So many more people, Tommy Veale, Fork Doherty, Pa Hannon, the Connor's Paddy and Mick, the Colemans, Tom and Mick and not forgetting John "Jocklyn" O'Donnell who at every opportunity eat Mrs Clance's cake she left out to cool. When I came back to Ireland, my family had moved to Dromroe Tourin, come to think of it I haven't lived in Lismore since.

Anyway, this hasn't enlightened you very much about Lismore, maybe it will just jog a few memories along the way.

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