Listowel Connection

This blog is a personal take on Listowel, Co. Kerry. I am writing for anyone anywhere with a Listowel connection but especially for sons and daughters of Listowel who find themselves far from home. Contact me at listowelconnection@gmail.com

Month: September 2017 Page 3 of 5

A return to Convent Street, Jim Reeves in Listowel, a local winner at Listowel Races 1982 and Jerry Hannon

By

On September 15, 2017

In Uncategorized

Bird on a Wire


Such a sweet photo by Chris Grayson

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Andy Griffin takes a trip back to his roots


Andy Griffin follows listowelconnection from his home in England. Recently he made a trip to Listowel, Ballybunion and Dingle with his dad and his children. For dad it was a trip down memory lane. Daniel Griffin, now in his seventies, grew up in Convent Street. For the young people it was a chance to get acquainted with their Irish heritage. Andy sent us some of their holiday snaps.




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This premises at the junction of William Street and O’Connell’s Avenue was once The Las Vegas Ballroom

Jim Reeves in The Las Vegas, Listowel

Last week I brought you Jim Sheahan’s memories of his time as a musician in The Las Vegas Ballroom, Listowel. He told me about a phenomenon called All Night Dances which drew huge crowds and went on until 3.00a.m. Sometimes these nights had a huge star as the main attraction. Bridie Gallagher of The Boys from the County Armagh fame came.

Mary O’Rourke, formerly of Church St. wrote to say that she thought that Jim Reeves had played there. She did a bit of research and she found that, sure enough, on Sunday June 2 1963 the great Jim Reeves played for a full hour from 10.00 to 11.00.

Incidentally her source, Jim Reeves, The Untold Story, reveals that, after he had finished his gig in Listowel, he was driven to The Majestic in Mallow for his next gig, appearing on stage at 12.30 a.m.

For those of you interested in learning more about this country singer’s time in Ireland, I found the following in the Mayo News blog from 2010;
NEARLY 50 years on, the Jim Reeves tour of Ireland in 1963 still has the power to rekindle old memories. As I reported last August, a new 26 page booklet by James Reddiough from Attymass takes a look-back at that nostalgic time and commits to print memories and reflections of a tour that captured the headlines way back then. The booklet, ‘Jim Reeves Tour of Ireland 1963’, was launched on Monday night last, September 27, in the Welcome Inn, Castlebar.
Reeves was one of the true superstars of the era. The velvet tones of the tall Texan filled the airwaves on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Here in Ireland, his songs held magnetic appeal. He played a huge role in cultivating the roots of country music among the Irish nation.

A year after his visit to Ireland, Jim Reeves died in a plane crash south of Nashville on July 31,1964. News of his passing made front page news around the globe. The singer was in the prime of his career with a string of No 1 hits in the American and UK charts.
As with Buddy Holly and others, his early and tragic death added even further to his iconic status. His classic country songs still cast a spell and retain a timeless appeal, especially in Ireland where he was always huge.
Jim’s first Irish date was in Drumkeen, Co Limerick on May 30. It was after a show in the Atlantic Ballroom in Tramore that he made the long journey from the south east across Ireland to Kiltimagh. That probably contributed to the moody form that led to his non-appearance on stage in the Mayo town.
What happened or did not happen in Kiltimagh on the night of June 6, 1963, can still generate plenty of talk. Journalist James Morrissey, a native of Kiltimagh who has resided in Dublin for many years, recalled the event in ‘The Swinging Sixties’, which was edited by John Coughlan, the founder of Spotlight magazine. “I can well remember the night Jim Reeves did not play in Kiltimagh. A crowd of us – trousered schoolboys congregated outside The Diamond Ballroom, waiting for the singing legend to arrive. Not since Walt Disney visited the town, at the invitation of a local businessman, had there been such a fuss about a stage or screen personality in the town.
“Car loads of couples arrived from all over the towns around and how we envied their adult status to have been able to gain admission for ten shillings. As it transpired we were not the only ones to be disappointed because Jim Reeves never performed in Kiltimagh. He claimed the piano was not properly tuned.”
Leo Diamond Jnr, son of the late Leo who owned the hall at the time, is quoted thus: “I understand that he was not aware that he had to do two shows that night it seems. He threw a tantrum when he found out he was down to perform at another show 40 miles away in Sligo. He came in the back door of the hall and didn’t stay long. He refused to do the two shows. Jack Higgins shot down the hall and said to Leo …‘he’s gone’.”



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Today’s Racing Memory



This one was shared on Facebook by Ballydonoghue Parish Magazine

Flashback to Listowel Races 1982: presentation to the Keane family of Ballylongford after their horse ‘Yer Man’ had won the Central Hotel Handicap. Pictured are Val O’Connell (jockey), Noel Keane, Kissane Keane, Carmel Keane (nee Kissane, Lacca), John Byrne, Andrew McNamara (trainer) and Michael Keane (NT, Listowel).



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Jerry Hannon; Horse Racing Commentator




Photo and text from Goracing.ie website


Listowel Race week is very special for so many reasons. For me, it’s all
about coming

 home to work, I’m killing two
birds with the one stone.

I’m playing to a home crowd for seven days and I love it.

I’m an exile now. Dublin has been my base for the past five years.

They thought I’d never leave my mother’s side! Teresa is the best in the
world.

For her, Listowel week is all about keeping me fed, breakfast, lunch and
dinner.

She’d butter the bread if I’d let her! Saturday is locals’ day and 

she’ll come down to the ‘island’ for the races. 

The family, including my
sisters Emer and Paula, will all meet up for a drink

afterwards and maybe Mam will tell me I did a good job for the week.

 Deep down, I know she’s very
proud of me.

We lost our dad Joe back in March of 2009. It was a huge blow to us all.

He was my biggest fan. He once told me to treat every race as if it was
the Derby

or the Grand National and if I get a little excited at times, well
that’s why.

I miss him all the time but especially this week. Yesterday’s winner

Youceeyouceecee is owned by Eamon O’Carroll and his family.

He was a great friend of Dad’s and when Eamon’s Tom Doodle won at

Listowel in 2007, Dad stood in for the photo in the winners’
enclosure.

One of my earlies memoires is of Dad getting the late Liam Healy to take a
photo

 of me with Charlie Swan. Charlie
was easily my favourite jockey

 when I was growing up. Liam stood
me up on the steps of the stewards’ stand beside

 the weighroom at Listowel and
Charlie stood in beside me. A big moment

 I can tell you. Dad would have
brought me to the Listowel in my very early days

 and as I grew up I would have
cycled down to the track on my black and red BMX

. I went everywhere on that bike!

Liam and his family only lived around the corner from us and we have known them

 all our lives. I honestly don’t
know what I’d be doing without Liam. He was

 a sound advisor and claimed me as
the son he never had. He even taught m

e how to drive! I loved helping him out and he even said that I had “the
eye”

 for photography. The best picture
I ever took was of Stroll Home and

 Paul Carberry on their way to
winning the Galway Plate in 1997.

Liam had sent me down to the second last fence and that’s where

 I got the snap. I had seen every
racecourse in the country with Liam

 by the time I was 16 or 17.
Laytown completed the full set at the time and

 it remains the only course I
haven’t done a commentary at.

It seems like everything that happens this week brings back memories.

 Calling the Liam Healy Memorial
Lartigue Handicap Hurdle on Tuesday

was a trying task. I’m close to all the Healys, Pat, Liam Og, Lisa and
Cathy

 and their extended families. I’d
do a good bit of the travelling with the lads,

 car-pooling remains a big thing.
Brendan Sheridan is part of that gang,

especially when head north to Downpatrick and Down Royal.

Another big influence has been the great Dessie Scahill. I’ve been doing

the course commentaries on a full-time basis since July of last year and

I’m delighted to be sharing the duties with the man that has been an
idol of mine

 for close to 30 years. I freely
admit that when I went racing in the early days,

the action was going on behind my back. Everyone would be watching

what was happening out on the track and I’d be looking up at Des with my
mouth open.

 A treasured possession is a photo
I have of me standing in the commentary box

 of the old Corrib stand at Galway
watching him calling a race. It was taken in 1996.

 He was top of the pops back then
and he still is to this day. A remarkable talent

and in a class of his own on the big days.

My first commentary on the track was at Downpatrick in May, 2000. I started off

 with pony racing and in
point-to-points. When I left school, I worked in the office

 for the Healys for a year and a
bit. Pat was in Australia at the time and I held

 the fort while the two Liams
worked the tracks. I was on the sales team

  • for Cadburys for a few years. I worked all over Munster. It was the
    easiest sell of all time. 

    Who doesn’t like Cadburys chocolate!

    I spent eight years with Paddy Power, starting off as a cashier in Tralee

     and working around the county
    before moving to Dublin where I worked in their offices

     in the south of the city and
    spent three months in the head office in Clonskeagh.

    Everyone that knows me knows that I’m at my happiest now. Calling the horses

    has always been a dream. And to be able to do it in your own home town
    is brilliant.

    There will be a big crowd on the ‘island’ for the Kerry National this
    afternoon

    and we’ll top that on Friday for ladies’ day. I’ll be giving it my all
    from

    the best seat in the house. Tell Mam I’ll be home for dinner at 6.30.

    She’ll be waiting at the door for me!

Killarney House and Gardens, Craftshop na Méar and another instalment of Vincent’s racing memories

By

On September 14, 2017

In Uncategorized

Chris Grayson took this photo of a peacock butterfly….more beautiful than any best dressed lady

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Killarney House and Gardens


Since it opened to the public I have been planning a visit here. It is breath taking. If you can at all, go there before the winter. I’m sure it will be still lovely but at the moment its magnificent…and it’s free.

This is the entrance on the Muckross Road. These things on top to the wall and gates look to me like a sceptre and crown, letting you know that this is no ordinary estate you are entering. It was once the seat of Lord Kenmare. It is now part of The National Park.

The restored gate lodge

The avenue at the front of the house is beautifully kept and the lawns are pristine but nothing prepared me for the staggering beauty of the formal borders and gardens behind the house.

The house itself is a fine house but it is the gardens that make a visit here a must. This present house of the McShain family is actually converted stables which was transformed into a dwelling house after their other house burned down.  The McShain family sold their estate to the Irish people for a peppercorn rent. The state spent seven million euros on the restoration work.

The restoration work here is faultless. Killarney House is now another jewel in the crown of Killarney’s many visitor attractions.

The dining room and living room are furnished just as the McShains left it. Mrs McShain died in 1998.  Many of the furnishings and fittings are relatively modern. In this it is very different to Muckross House. Both houses are well worth a visit.

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Listowel Tidy Town’s Vintage Day at Listowel Races


Saturday is my favourite day at The Races.  As they ramp up the excitement for this year’s event, Listowel Tidy Towns Committee have mounted a photo collage in their window display. There I am enjoying Vintage Day 2016..   Happy memories!

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Perfect Pairs Stylish revamp




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The Work of Some Local Artists on Craftshop na Méar Church St. Window


My Silver River Feale pendant by silversmith, Eileen Moylan

Listowel drawings by Maurice Hannon

Donkeys by Viveca Amato



Michael Tea Cozy by Frances O’Keeffe



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Some photos from Vincent Carmody

Here are some more of the photographs which I took on the trip over to the racecourse last Sunday morning, September 10 2017.

Nos 1 & 2 The entry to the stands from the town end along the river bank.

For those unfamilar with the course, it  is linked to the town by two foot bridges, one just off The Square and the second from the Greenville road.  There is a roadway that runs directly from the Tralee road to the racecourse.

There has been a tradition among traveller children to stand in the river under the bridge, crying ” Throw me down something, ” to those passing on the bridge above.  This year, I am afraid, due to the floods, the habit will be dis-continued. 

No 3, The Castle in the backround continues to play an important role in the tourist attractions of Listowel. Even though the races were first run in Listowel in 1858, the Fitzmaurice Castle has been the central and focal point of the town since the 1300s.

No 4,  A fellow course spotter that I met on Sunday morning, I suppose if you met him there next Saturday evening, he would be called,, ” The Last Man Standing”

No 5,  Gypsy Kathleen has a very prominent location in the Square. She might, just might, have a few winners before the week is out. One would never know what she would see in that crystal ball.

Artistic Graffiti at the Ball Alley and Vincent Carmody’s Race week enterprises in the 1950s

By

On September 13, 2017

In Uncategorized

Chris Grayson was on the Dingle peninsula.

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The Ball Alley


A few years ago, as a project during Listowel Writers’ Week, the young people of Existance Youth Café, helped and supported by Listowel Tidy Towns’ Committee, painted some artistic graffiti on the walls of the old ball alley. Recently I noticed that the end wall has been painted over. I hope whoever painted it won’t paint over any more of it, because it is lovely. 



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Twin Concerns this week; a Mayo football Jersey and a jockey’s silks in the window at Harnett’s

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Home is the Hero

Photo; Darren Frehill on Twitter

Real heroes have time for their fans.

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More Race Week Memories from Vincent Carmody




Overview photo of the racecourse by Pat Healy


Apart from the fine
fresh air and friendship that you will have in abundance at the races, the only
other thing free for the week is the free draw each day, entry forms to be
found on the day’s race card.

Race card kiosks are
located in several areas of the enclosure.

In my previous lookback,
I mentioned Paul Kennelly of Woodford.  He
used to be assisted in putting up the decorations by several of his sons. One
by one over time, they emigrated to seek their fortunes in England. Like many
before them, they worked hard and prospered. Murt, having done well, decided to
become a racehorse owner. Among the horses that he owned was Bregawn. In 1983
Murt achieved what most owners and trainers would only dream of, by winning the
Gold Cup in Cheltenham. It could not happen to a nicer man and family.

The weekend prior to
the races would see an influx of returning emigrants arriving at the Railway
Station. The Races was the one time of the year where anyone away would make an
big effort to return back to town and meet up with old friends.

  

Tuesday used be
the first day of the three day meeting. Many lads, like myself, would be down
early outside the Race Company Office in the Square; our mission, to collect
race cards for the day. This was another money making project for us young
fellows. Each card would be sold for one old shilling and we would take three
old pence for each one sold. On getting the cards, a bee line would then be
made to the Railway Station, where each race day morning at least four packed “specials”
would arrive.  It used be like London’s
Euston station. We used work in teams of three, with one always ready to cycle
down to the Square to get fresh supplies.

Here we were also
introduced for the first time to the Dublin fruit and sweet sellers. We used to
call them the Molly Malones. Afterwards we got used to their cry, “apples,
pears and ripe bananas!”.

Any cards we had left
after the railway station would be sold around the streets.

One year I decided to
go into business on my own, running a bicycle park. A bike would have been the
most common form of transport for a lot of country men in the mid 1950s. Each
day of the races from mid-morning droves of country men from the northern end
of the county would come down the Ballylongford Road to the town. By taking up
a position on top of the bridge I could easily canvas likely contenders who
would have dismounted and walked up the far side and who wanted their bike
parked safely for the day. Having secured a customer, I would take him down to
our yard, give him a ticket, get paid and then rush back up to the bridge
again. By early afternoon customers would have dried up so it was then off over
to The Island.

Our racedays were
spent like most others out in the field opposite the stand. Not like today,
where the field is used as a carpark, it was in those days similar to the
opposite enclosure, albeit without a stand. 
It had  bookies, bars, Tote and every other facility, even
including swinging boats. Evening time offered the magic of the market, and for
the week the cinemas would run a second film showing. 

Back to the bicycle
park. The less said about the bicycle park the better. Having got my sister to
help out in the early part of the evening, I then had to take up duty. On that
particular night it was after five in the morning before the last bike was
claimed. My mother and father said they had no sleep with all the comings and
goings, so that finished that idea.

A friend, Dr. Philip O
Carroll, now domiciled in Newport Beach in California, reminded me of Bryan McMahon’s
classic Listowel ballad, ‘Lovely Listowel’ first printed by Bob Cuthbertson and
sold on an original penny ballad sheet. I have a copy and I would like to share
it with all of those Listowel people around the world who could not join us
this year.

Oh, Puck may be famous
and Galway be grand,

And the praise of
Tramore echo down through the land,

But I’ll sing you a
ballad and beauty extol,

As I found it long ‘
go in the Town of Listowel.

I’ve been to Bundoran,
I’ve rambled to Bray,

I’ve footed to Bantry
with it’s beautiful bay,

But I’d barter their
charms, I would, pon my soul,

For the week of the
Races in Lovely Listowel.

There were Bookies and
Bagmen and Bankers and all,

Biddy Mulligan was
there with a green-coloured shawl,

And a cute little boy
pitching pence in a bowl,

Took me down for a
crown in the Town of Listowel.

The Hawkers were
kissing and bleeding as well,

We had Hoop-La and
Loop-La and the ‘oul Bagatelle,

And silver-tongued
gents sure I’d bet they’d cajole,

A pound from a miser
in the Town of Listowel.

Beyond on the course
there was silk flashing past, 

The unfortunate nag
that I backed he was last,

When he ran the wrong
way sure I lost my control,

And I prayed for the
trainer and Lovely Listowel.

Oh night time, how are
you-the night sure ’twas day,

And the stars in the
sky sure they looked down in dismay,

And they sez to the
moon then in accents so droll,

‘You’re done, for the
sun shines to-night in Listowel’

And you’d travel the
land to see maidens so rare,

With buckles and
pearls and grace I declare,

In my troubles and
toils there is one can console,

she’s a wife, be me
life, from the Town of Listowel.

My rhyming is over,
God bless those who heard,

For I’ll take to the
roads and go off like a bird,

And before I depart
well you all must pay toll,

So three cheers for
the Races and Lovely Listowel.

                  

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Last year on the Saturday of race week, Owen MacMahon gave an impromptu blast of his father’s famous ballad. He was helped by fellow “well dressed men” at Listowel’s Tidy Town’s Vintage Day.

Here it is

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Races 2017



It’s still a bit blustery on The Island. The weather is set to improve though.

John Kelliher  some  great photos.

Killarney, an Oyster Drill and alas poor Gaeilge!

By

On September 12, 2017

In Uncategorized

Birds at the feast   photo by Chris Grayson

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Killarney


I was at The Malton in Killarney to meet up with some old friends and I took a few photos while I was in that corner of the tourist capital of Ireland.

If ever there was a symbol of Killarney, it has to be the Jaunting Car.

“Jaunt” is a word that has fallen out of favour of late.

 This magnificent tree is at the entrance to the Outlet Centre.

 The Franciscan Friary is a beautiful church.

 I had never spotted this before. It is located opposite the Friary and just off the roundabout.

Look at the three very different architectural styles in this corner.


Killarney possesses great natural beauty but its built environment is a bit of a mish mash.

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Interesting Fact I learned from Ethna Viney in Saturday’s paper



On the rock where I fish there were bairneach (limpet) shells with holes and the contents not fully eaten. I found out that the holes were made by the oyster drill. How long have these molluscs been living in Kerry?

Fin Broderick, Listowel, Co Kerry

The oyster drill is an alien, invasive species that came in to oyster beds with imported Pacific oysters, and is found all around the shallow parts of the bays of southwest Kerry.



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A window display for the week that’s in it

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Lost in Translation



There is a blogger who calls himself the Geeky Gaelgoir. He is amused to see the mess some people make of translating even the simplest of phrases.

This week our geek found a cracker. You have heard of the US slogan Black Lives Matter. It grew out of anger at what seemed like the undue haste with which certain police officers fired their weapons if the suspect was black.

A counter movement was started by the right wing and they called their movement Blue Lives Matter. I can only suppose that it is because so many US police officers are Irish American that someone thought it would be a good idea to have this slogan printed in Irish on a T-shirt.

The huge irony arises from the use of words to describe colour in Irish. For instance there are two words for green, glas and uaithne, glas is used for organic things like féar glas and uaithne for things like a flag, brat uaithne.

But our ancestors perception of colour was different to ours and the Irish for a grey horse is capall glas.

Gorm is the word for blue. We are all familiar with súile gorma.

But remember our ancestors different perception of colour, so black people in Irish are daoine gorma. Our friend with the blue line through his shamrock is actually supporting black lives.

Since his slogan is gibberish anyway, I dont think anyone will get it.

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A Wet Sunday on the Island


Racing went ahead despite the showers and winds. This is Danny Mullins with Kylecue who won The Kerry Group Steplechase for the third time.



Clouds gather over a not too busy Bookmakers’ ring.

Solitary horse in the parade ring during a heavy shower on Sunday Sept 10 2017

Jumpers, McKenna’s, Listowel History Festival and Vincent Carmody’s Race Week in the 1950s

By

On September 11, 2017

In Uncategorized

Photo: Chris Grayson

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Painting Job well done




McKenna’s is looking splendid in its new coat.

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Jumpers and By Herkins

Recently I included the below snippet in a blog post

Brosna Jumpers

(from The Freeman’s Journal New South
Wales, Australia)

Passing to the diocese of Kerry, I observe
that at a mission by the Franciscans, in the parish of Brosna, 5,000 persons
communicated, 2,000 were invested with the scapular of the Blessed Virgin, and
1,200 were enrolled in the Confraternity of the Holy Family. Moreover, six
unfortunate persons who had become ‘Jumpers’ made, with their families, a
solemn public recantation. I may mention that this place was once the centre of
a Protestant proselytising traffic, I doubt if there is any single Protestant
there now.

Has anyone any idea what Jumpers were?

Joe Harrington answered my call. Here is the explanation from the Clifden heritage organisation:

The Famine
years were particularly harsh all over the west of Ireland, and especially in
the Connemara region whose population of tenant farmers and labourers depended
almost entirely on the lumper potato. Thousands died when the potato crop
failed in the summer of 1845 and failed again over the following three years.
Those who managed to survive were weakened by years of hunger and disease and found
it difficult to restart their lives as their work tools, farm implements and
furniture had been sold to raise money for food. This was the environment into
which the Irish Church Missions stepped when it began its proselytising work in
Clifden in early 1848. Its arrival, with plentiful supplies of food and
clothes, must have seemed like a godsend to the starving poor of Connemara.

The Irish
Church Missions was established by Revd Alexander Dallas, the Church of England
rector of Wonston in Hampshire and had been active at Castlekerke, near
Oughterard since 1846. Its ambition was to convert the Roman Catholic
population of Ireland to scriptural Protestantism and it was handsomely funded
by the Protestant population of Great Britain. The Irish poor who attended the
Irish Church Missions schools and churches of received clothes and food in
addition to educational and religious services and, with the west of Ireland in
the midst of a dreadful famine, it is unsurprising that the poor of Connemara
eagerly flocked to the Protestant Irish Church Missions. Within a short time the mission could correct
claim a very large number of converts or ‘jumpers’ as they were known. [It is
thought that the term Jumpers comes from the Irish expression d’iompaigh siad –
they turned.]


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I also got this interesting snippet about the etymology of the exclamation “By Herkins”

It is a strange saying. I thought it was probably an incorrect rendition of some similar sounding-word, maybe ‘Hearken.’ This was much used in biblical connotations- 

​’​

Hearken, brothers, give ear unto my words

​…’​

However, I believe that is not the case.

I was later informed that ‘By Herkins’ is, in fact correct, and this is validated in the story, “The Lady of Gallerus” by T. Crofton Croker 1798-1854. 

It echoes of wonderment:  “By Herkins, I nothing but a made man with you, and you with a King for your father.”

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Finally, a ‘Jumper’ is someone who changed from R.C. to Protestant- usually as a result of hunger and proselytising. He or she ‘jumped ship!’ Or took the soup and became known as a ‘Souper.’

Dingle was noted as a Colony of Soupers/Jumpers.

Brosna also had a colony (though some were ‘economically’ inspired and did it for gain. Others did it to stay alive, which was o.k. in 1847 or thereabouts. Many we

nt back to their old faith when their bellies were full again!

Fealebridge on the Kerry-Limerick border (near the creamery on the old main road) had its small colony. There was a proselytising Minister, the Revd. ‘Ned’ Norman there, and he had a church in the middle of no-where. (It is reduced to rubble now- with some fine cut limestone).

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Going to the Creamery


This lovely old postcard was shared recently byListowel History Festival. The History Festival is a new venture from the people behind the military festival. The time had come to move on from the military emphasis.  In future this festival will look at all aspects of history. If you have any ideas of how this new history weekend could be enhanced get in touch with them through their page. They are very anxious to get as many diverse aspects of history covered in the weekend.

Back to the postcard. Doesn’t it take you back?  The donkey looks young and sprightly to me and his cart is either new or newly painted.  The saved hay in the background says that it is summer. I wonder could the history festival find a donkey and bring him into the town and tackle him to a flat cart. How many people nowadays could name the various items of donkey’s tackling? Would’ nt it be a education for youngsters and a trip back in time for us all to see the donkey dressed for a trip to town.

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It’s Race Week



This window display in Lawlers of Church St. is getting us all in the spirit.

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Reminiscing at the beginning of another Race Week

Photos and text by  Vincent Carmody,       Sept. 
 2017

 The pristine straight, without a hoof mark… within a
few hours the horses will come thundering up the hill, some gallant winners and
many more gallant losers. The Listowel Arms and twin church spires are in the distance.

 The three stands are ready and waiting to host the
thousands who will flock to the Island for the seven days.

One of the many Tote facilities, this one built into
the new building which was opened last year, it also includes a large bar and
“The Old Weir” foodhall.


Some Listowel Races memories.

I went for a walk this Sunday morning, 10th
September, back to our Island Racecourse, to see the course in its state of readiness
for the first day of our seven day feast of racing. The memories came flooding
back.

In the days of the 1950s when myself and my contemporaries
were growing up, racing days consisted of three days, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.
We would have school on the Monday, and I remember one of the compositions
always rostered for homework was one, either through Irish or English, with  a ‘ week of race-week theme ‘.

For us townies, the sense of anticipation, would have
began during the previous week when a gentleman called Paul Kennelly from
Woodford would move around the streets with a hay cart which contained
specially large made concrete bases with a hole in the middle.  These had metal handles for lifting. 
The bases were left on the edges of the various footpaths at either side of the
road, at distances of about 30 yards. Alongside these were left tall poles,
some painted black and white, more multicoloured, similar to the wooden poles
one will see on showjumping fences. Mr Kennelly’s next job was done with the help
of some of his sons. They stood the poles into the concrete bases. This done,
they strung coloured buntings from the top of each pole to its opposite across
the street, until the streets were ablaze with the fluttering decorations.  Later when trucks were getting higher, a
metal pole was attached to the tops of the poles. It was also customary at one
stage to tie bunches of ivy on to the poles. 
This was discontinued when somebody’s emancipated donkey, which had been
tied on to one of the poles, decided to feast on the ivy. The stricken ass had
to receive veterinary assistance and when possible litigation loomed  a
stop was put to this form of decoration.

Strings of electric light bulbs would, I remember,
have been first erected by Gene Moriarty. His family still keep up the practice
to this day.

The market amusements were also a major part of the
week, The Bird family operated the most popular of these, and were located in
the back market, which was, in our time, until the building of the Mart, separated
from the front market by a long shed which ran from the market wall down
towards the river. The top end of the front market, inside both gates would
have contained lines of travellers green coloured canvas topped caravans. This
is why it  was known as the Tinkers Market.
The lower part hosted small-time amusement operators, mostly with swinging
boats and hustlers selling everything and anything. An abiding memory that still
abides is the smell that emanated from the wood-fueled open fires which
would be lit outside the caravans at dusk.

Also in Market Street, McKennas used have installed a
small screen which fitted into the fanlight of one of their small doors. On
this screen throughout the week they would play repeats of that year’s Grand National
and other sporting events, more than likely, similar to Movietone News. I
remember one of these was a match which featured Stanley Mathews. 

For those of us living near the railway station, Monday evening
had its own attraction; the arrival of the special train coming from the
Curragh. This would be full of racehorses, scheduled to run in the various
races during the week. The Race Company had a stable yard with around 50
stables at the back of William Street where most of the horses would be housed
and the overflow would go to various houses who had private stables in their
backyards. The various trainers and stable boys would always require assistance
in bringing their luggage and equine requirements to the stables, so we would
become hastily employed and willing stablehands for the evening. The monies
received would happily subsidise race-week pocket money which one would never
have enough of.              

    

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