Author: Listowel Connection Page 8 of 482

Boy with a Hen

Mallow Camera club,   John Hooton.

>>>>>>>> 

An Old Cookbook

Cookbooks lend a great insight into how we used to eat. I unearthed this old gem at the back of a cupboard. It used to belong to my beloved Aunty Eily. The cookbook came with her first electric cooker, which she cared for with such loving reverence that she still had it in working order until her death.

The heating controls on this cooker had three settings ; low, medium and high.

The date on the cook book is 1956.

Forcemeat is an old word for stuffing. I looked it up.

a gill is a quarter of a pint.

This recipe is an ancient one and famously in the 18th century began with the instruction, First, catch your hare.

(Another old cookery book, in giving directions for a particular kind of pudding, begins thus, Take your maid and send her for a peck of flour. )

<<<<<<<<

Some Cork Photos

<<<<<<<<

Lartigue 1920’s

Precious media sent to us by Danny McDonnell

Foxgloves at Slea Head 

Mallow Camera Club;  John Hooton.

<<<<<<<<<

The March Hare

Have you heard the expression, mad as a March hare? Of course the hares aren’t mad at all just a bit frisky this time of year.

For my last birthday I got a present of this lovely book.

It has a little bit about Nature for everyday of the year. Here’s what it says about the March hare.

<<<<<<<<

Shopping in a Pandemic

I have very few outings nowadays and when I do get out it’s only on essential business. Last week my outing was to the pharmacy for my medication. There I was, socially distanced, waiting to be served, when what did I spy but bargain basement Christmas cards. 

I am living proof that a bargain is something you don’t need at a price you can’t resist. 

Christmas cards in March! Only a dedicated bargain hunter, starved of all my usual charity shop fixes would fall for that one.

Problem now is, will I remember where I put them next Christmas?

<<<<<<<<<<

Getting Ready for Reopening

The newest barber’s shop on Church Street has their new sign up in time for reopening.

Eagle’s Head

Mallow Camera Club;   Grade 2 First Place. Kieran Cogan.

<<<<<<<<<<<

Remembering how St. Patrick’s Day used to be

All of the following photos  of Listowel parades have appeared in Listowel Connection in years gone by.

<<<<<<

<<<<<<<<<,

Saint Patrick’s Days of Yore.

By Mattie Lennon. 

   Saint Patrick was a gentleman, he came from decent people,

In Dublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple

His father was a Callahan, his mother was a Grady,

His aunt was  an O’Shaughnessy and uncle he was Brady.

 So says Christy Moore.

       At this time of year my mind always flies back to the 5^th century.  And to my own native heath of West Wicklow. You see, according to one legend, our area was Christianised before Saint Patrick; we were converted by Palladius.  (One local wag said that we were Christianised sometime B.C.)

      Other historians  claim  that Palladius was repulsed by the inhabitants of Wicklow, where he landed. …    One way or the other it’s generally accepted that Naomh Padraig didn’t set foot in our neck of the woods.

But the late Jimmy Freeman of Ballyknockan, had a more down to earth explanation. He told me, and I quote, “Saint Patrick stood at Burgage an’ he come no farther. An’ he pointed his staff up at Lacken, Kylebeg an’ Ballinastockan an’ he sed ‘Let that be a den of thieves an’ robbers forever more’ .

    I didn’t know what to make of it. I  thought, perhaps,  he was indulging in a bit of, good-natured, inter-Townland rivalry.  Being well aware of the God-fearing and law-abiding nature of the inhabitants of the places in question it looked like our National Apostle was out beside it. Oh, sure enough, a Ballinastockan man was once fined sixpence for riding an unlit bicycle in Blessington during the hours of darkness. And it was rumoured that (before my time) a farmer on the Kylebeg/Lacken border was prosecuted under the 1910 Noxious Weeds Act, but nothing serious.     You see, as a community we were always as honest as hard times would would.  But the inhabitants or more progressive areas used to say that we only knew that Christmas was over when we saw people wearing shamrock.    We know that Saint Patrick is buried in Downpatrick, Having died at Nearby Saul in 561. March 17th is the supposed date of his death. We can’t check. RIP.IE doesn’t go back that far.  He was born in 486 and journalist, Billy Keane, has done a lot of genealogical research but failed to find any evidence of an exact date for the saint’s birth.  Consequently Billy suggests that his feast day (Saint Patrick’s not Billy’s) should be moved to September.      

       Any date in September  save 19^th to 25th inclusive. Because that would clash with Listowel races.   However it looks like we will be stuck with the current date for the foreseeable future.  Of course the nostalgia associated with our National holiday varies from person to person.  As children if we were abstaining from penny toffees and Fizz bags for Lent there was an exemption on Saint Patrick’s Day.  Adults off the booze and /or the fags got a one day reprieve.     Retailers have always loved it. Even the most humble huckster’s emporiums look like Carroll’s souvenir shops there’s so much green. You see, psychologists have established that green is the easiest colour on human vision, projecting a relaxed image and environment; it indicates a friendly approach and prompts shoppers to buy.    For my own part my olfactory sense goes back ever the decades whenever my nostrils detect the exhaust fumes   however tentative   given off by a forty to one fuel mix. Immediately I am back on any Saint Patrick’s Day in the 1950s When Ireland’s top scramblers are negotiating rough terrain at Templeboden Bridge.  Despite  muck-splattered helmets and goggles older spectators were able to point out to us  some of the all time greats .  Harry Lynsdsney, Ernie Lyons and Stanley Woods, Harry Lambert et al. And, , in my minds ear I can hear the frantic revving of Nortons, BSAs and Bultaco  bikes  as the aforementioned and  competitors from all over this island would halt for a time-check.       In 2001 in the bitter New York wind I marched up Fifth Avenue as part of the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. It was my first visit to the Big Apple. I still have the costume  that I wore that day ****  Saint Patrick’s name features in everything from Cathedrals to football clubs to middle names taken at Confirmation.  And  . . .   in  1757 the owners of Rowes Distillery, in Thomas Street, Dublin built the highest  smock windmill in Europe on their 17 acre site, to power their  distillery.    The  tower  still stands to this day. Because of the shape of its dome it has been known to generations of Dubliners as “The Onion Tower”  but its official name is Saint Patrick’s Tower  but . . . did Saint Patrick turn back at Burgage? The jury is still out.  Perhaps in the future through carbon dating, DNA of some other science yet unknown, Jimmy Freeman will be proved wrong . . . or right.   

 

 Brandon Creek

Mallow Camera Club,   Grade 2 Second Place. Jason Mc Aree.

<<<<<<<<

Remembering a Mother

Last Sunday was Mothering Sunday. Poet, John McGrath, posted this lovely tribute.

Driver

A faded photograph hangs on the wall,

My mother beaming proud as any peacock

By a gleaming new Ford Anglia.

When times were tough, and love was not enough

Her trips to Cobh and Shannon kept us fed.

My father wouldn’t eat ‘til she got home.

She’d learned to drive a milk float in the war.

Her eyes still danced and sparkled at the telling,

How the farm boys whistled, and policemen smiled.

An extra pint for Irish girls abandoned,

Tied to their children when their men went home

Reluctant for a fight that wasn’t theirs.

Once a year she took us to the seaside

Boot piled high with sandwiches and cake.

Hot water from a woman near the coast.

Her car sits silent in the shed now,

Dust-covered, cobweb-shrouded.

A blanket on the bonnet to keep out the cold.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day

Some old photos from our national holiday in Listowel

<<<<<<<<

Central Ballroom Remembered

When Maureen Barrett, formerly of Ballylongford, saw this photo of the opening of the New Central Ballroom in Ballybunion,  the memories came flooding back.

Here is what she wrote:

Mary,  did you know that Matt Sullivan that opened the Central Ballroom was from Ballylongford-he still has relatives there-I remember he used to come home from England to visit his family regularly and always brought his huge car from England for his vacation-just imagine how impressed everyone was with something like that in those days-he was however just a Bally man no pretensions about him when he was home-I think the architect Creedon is from a Ballylongford family also-

I remember the night THE CENTRAL (as it was referred to then)  opened-the traffic thru Ballylongford was such that one could not cross the road-we were on the main Limerick to Kerry route-memories memories-the mineral bar-the balcony to look down on the dancers-many many marriages started out there-sad to see how it ended up……………………….…………………… 

<<<<<<<<

A Miller’s Tale

The original Miller’s Tale comes from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. This is a collection of stories told by pilgrims on their way to the shrine of Thomas Becket in Canterbury. As the pilgrims overnight at an inn, they entertain one another by telling stories.

Nowadays, centuries later, business realises the value of stories. Our stories are  interwoven with others’ stories to make up the rich tapestry of life as we live it today.

My story for you today is the story of a journey from Coolbane to Colorado.

The tale begins in Freemount, Co. Cork in the 19th century. My great grandfather, Benjamin Brosnahan, and his son, Johnny, known locally as Johnny the Weaver, lived and worked at Brosnahan’s Cross in Ballybahallow outside Freemount, in North Cork. 

I know this because that great repository of stories, The Schools’ Folklore Collection, has more than one account of them under the heading

Local Crafts. 

Ben and Johnny’s weaving business depended on a supply of wool from local women who spun it in their homes. They also needed the services of a local miller. 

Coolbane Mill was run by the O’Shaughnessy family.

Fast forward to 2021. Andrew O’Shaughnessy has navigated the highs and lows of business and he is now the CEO of his own very successful company, Poppulo, an employee engagement company with global reach. 

Among Poppulo’s employees in Cork is Anne Cogan, Head of EMEA Marketing.

 Anne is the great great granddaughter of Ben the Weaver of Brosnahan’s Cross, Ballybahallow, Freemount.

On Monday March 15th 2021 Poppulo merged with Four Winds Interactive, a digital signage company based in Denver, Colorado. The combined annual sales of the two companies will be in the region of $100 million.

Our story has now journeyed a long way from Coolbane and Ballybahallow.

 Digital communication is the new weaving.

March 17 2021, St. Patrick’s Day like no Other

Remembering other days

St. Patrick’s Hall in Upper William Street

Billy Keane was the M.C and the mayor, on this occasion Jimmy Moloney, were on the viewing stage.

Jimmy Hickey is always busy on St. Patrick’s Day. Here he is with his dancers in St. Mary’s parish church.

Jimmy and Canon Declan O’Connor in The Square

Liam Brennan took over from the late Michael Dowling as St. Patrick.

A cohort of volunteer stewards kept the parade on track.

Eugene Moriarty and Matt Mooney are stalwarts of the organising committee.

Seán Moriarty looks after the commentary in the Small Square.

Tim O’Leary and Donal O’Sullivan always worked hard to make the day special for us all.

Billy is here doing a piece to camera for local videographer, Denis Carroll.

<<<<<<<<

Cornered

I published this photo last week. In it Barbara, wife of Dick Cotter, is presenting the Kingdom County Butter Churn Trophy to the winning owners, at Listowel Races in 1979. Barbara’s husband, Dick, was the food sales manager at Kerry Group at the time.  He is on the right in the photo.

Then I attempted to outline Dick’s Listowel connection and I got it wrong. I missed a generation.

Here is Dick’s email.

Richard Cotter	Tue, Mar 9, 9:55 PM (13 hours ago)
to me

Hi Mary,

Just saw the current edition re the Races photo. Just to point that Jimmy Cotter was my GREAT grandfather, Timothy F (Tasty)

was my grandfather, (John) Arthur Cotter was my father, Cecil(ia) was my aunt.Thanks.

My grandmother was Rita (Buckley) from Finuge. One of her 6 sisters was Dora who married Sean O’Brien from Charleville. On

March 1st,1921 (100 years) ago, he was murdered in his house by 2 Tans .He was buried initially in Charleville but was subsequently dis-interred and is now buried in Listowel Cemetery (just inside the gate on right hand side) together with Dora,

their daughter ,Maureen and Maureen’s husband, Eugeen O’Sullivan. The O’Sullivans had two daughters and one son, Brian.

All 3 were born over what is now John B.Keanes pub.

Sean O’Brien’s murder is featured in North Cork’s Fighting story (War of Independence).

Best wishes

Dick

The following 2 photos and text are from Vincent Carmody’s Listowel, Snapshots of a Market Town

Dick Cotter puts it in a nutshell here;

Just to confirm the Cotter “dynasty”!

1. John Cotter B 1809-1866
2  James Cotter B 1843-1913
3 Timothy Cotter B 1881-1952 A.K.A Tasty!
4 (John)Arthur Cotter B 1912-1969  Sister; Cecilia Margaret B 1916-1971.
5 Richard Cotter B 1945-so far!

I know that some Listowel sources think that Tasty & Cecil were siblings but that is incorrect. 

She married late in life to her childhood sweetheart Eugene O’Connell (brother of Thomas O’Connell, Bridge Road) in 1970.

They both died in UK in 1971 within a short time of each other (less than a year married)-sad. 

Gene had served with British Army in Burma-WW2. 

<<<<< 

The shop has now been in the Scully family for as long as I am in town.

The shop as it is today is occupied by Chic Boutique

Photo by Pat del Savio

One of the many iterations of this corner shop