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

President Michael D. and fond memories of a kind gentleman


Cherry Blossom Time 2021


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President Michael D. Higgins


Happy Birthday, a Uachtaráin


We, in Listowel, were honoured with a visit from our president on a few occasions. Here are some reminders.

Opening Night Listowel Writers’ Week, May 30 2012

With Julie and Mary celebrating Listowel’s win in Tidy Towns Competition

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I searched out these Listowel photos for you when I saw the below post on a Charleville Facebook page.

From Charleville Heritage Society

President Michael D Higgins and his Charleville connection his father was John Higgins he was employed here in Charleville at Owen Binchy and Sons grocer shop.

John married a local women Alice Canty from Liscarroll. This is what brought the Higgins to North Cork. John himself was a Clare man. John joined the local IRA. His active period was 1920 to 1923.

After the War of Independence John joined the anti-Treaty side

and Civil War roared on here in Charleville.

Families picking different sides and tearing families apart and the Higgins were no different John was anti-Treaty, but Michael D’s uncles Peter and Michael were pro-Treaty.

After the war people tried to get back to normal but it didn’t happen for John as he employer refused to give him his job back.

John paid a high price for standing up for what he believed in.

He was arrested in January 1923 during the Civil War and interned in the Curragh. He was released later the same year in December.

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Liam Dillon Remembered


My tribute to Liam evoked many happy memories and fond recollections for many people who knew him.

Here are just a few examples:

Hi Mary, very sad to hear of the passing of Liam Dillon. Liam and myself used to have great banter back in the day when I was a teenager. Coming from Colbert Street, John Joe’s was our local shop. Sometimes Liam would ask me to help in the shop if it was extra busy, which I enjoyed. When I was coming to England in 1972, he gave me a few pounds as a leaving present, which was lovely of him, he really was a lovely man and I always called in to the shop to see him when I was home in Listowel. Ann was my Geography teacher in 5th and 6th year Secondary school.  May their souls rest in peace. Regards. Rose Sheehan ( nee Shine ). 


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Hi Mary,


Lovely tribute to an old friend Liam Dillon. He was the ultimate gentleman and I always looked forward to meeting him and sharing a laugh. Whenever I went “home”, my first Stop was at his shop on Church St. No Irish money in my pocket but Liam made sure I had everything I needed to begin my vacation on Colbert St. I have an old fashioned habit of leaving the front door open whenever I am there. Liam would be passing by and ramble in for a chat and a cup of tea. We would chat about my aunt who owned that house and laugh about her habit of always having the door open. Even here in the US, my door is always open to the chagrin of many of my friends. Listowel has lost one of their own and he will be remembered and revered by all who were fortunate to call him friend. May his gentle soul RIP

Marie Shaw

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Lovely words Mary. Eamon’s eulogy was perfect. Delighted he quoted my father’s poem, The Street.
Liam was very kind to my grandmother, Hannie Keane, No 45 Church Street.
Liam’s mother and Hannie were great friends.
John Keane
104 Church Street


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Mary, thank you for publishing Eamonn Dillon’s eulogy.   I learned so much from it – amazing what a full life Liam and indeed Anne had.  Liam had so many interests that I wasn’t aware of.  Definitely lives well-lived.

Kay Caball



The Races Remembered, Lofty Kelliher and Famous People I met once

 Photo; Sheila Horgan, Blackwater Photographic Society

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Every Sunday in the 1980s


John Hannon’s great photo of Lofty Kelliher on a Sunday morning

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Murhur , Late 1980s


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I found the following essay on Athea and District News 2019


The Races

By Domhnall de Barra 

It is Listowel Races time again and there is hardly a word about it. At one time it was one of the major events in our calendar and the highlight of many people’s year. Back in those days there were just three days racing but there was a week long festival in Listowel that attracted great crowds from Kerry and all the neighbouring counties. It was called the Harvest Festival as it coincided with the end of the harvest and an opportunity for farmers, who had toiled hard in meadow, garden and bog all the summer, to take a well earned break. 

Farming was very labour intensive in those days with very little machinery to help out. Most of the work was done with pikes, spades and sleáns and of course it all depended on the weather. We must have had better summers back then because there was no silage to fall back on so. Although it took much longer to do, the hay was almost always saved. There must have been bad years as well but I suppose we look back with rose tinted glasses so we only remember the good ones. 

Anyway, the hay saved and drawn in, the turf home from the bog and the spuds dug so now it was time for the races. At school we looked forward to them for weeks. We always got a day off and some of us even sneaked the other two. We would discuss how we would get there and what we would do then. 

It had nothing to do with the actual horse racing, oh no we had no interest in them, we just wanted to see the wonderful displays in the shop windows and sample all the joys of the fun fair in the Marked Yard. This yard was filled with all kinds of entertaining things like swinging boats, chairoplanes, bumpers and stalls that rewarded you with a prize if you could throw a ring over an object on display. There was what seemed like circus music playing in the background and there was a constant buzz of conversation mixed with the screams of those who were riding high on the swinging boats or crashing into each other in the bumpers. There was also a special smell about the place that I can’t describe but it lingers in the memory forever. 

Of course all these rides cost money and that was our biggest problem. Money was in very short supply in those days so there was no point in depending on what you got at home. You might  get a certain amount all right but that wouldn’t last too  long so other ways of financing our trip had to be found. For us it was the picking of blackberries. There was a factory in Brosna that made fruit juices. The best known of these was a drink called “Pep Apple” which was mostly exported to the US. They also made blackberry juice so they bought blackberries that were collected in local shops.

 Peggy Leahy, who had a shop near Cratloe Creamery, bought blackberries for the factory and paid us by weight so, as soon as the berries were ripe, we were out with our gallons along the hedgerows picking away. Now, picking blackberries might seem easy but it was far from it. On the first day we ate more berries than we put into the gallons until we got sick of them. It took what seemed like forever to fill a gallon and it came at a price. No matter how hard you tried it was nearly impossible to avoid the thorns that surrounded the bushes so that our hands finished up a mixture of black from the berries and blood from the thorns. But, we persevered and walked with our gallons full to the shop to collect roughly a shilling for our labour. The scratches soon healed and we had enough money for the races. 

Most of the people from this neck of the woods went for at least one day. Very few actually crossed the bridge to the island where the real racing took place but they had a great time strolling the streets, meeting the neighbours and taking the odd libation in the welcoming hostelries. 

At that time the train ran through Abbeyfeale to Listowel and would be full on race days. Many is the man who caught the train in Abbeyfeale or Kilmorna, got off in Listowel, went into the nearest pub, Mike the Pie’s, and didn’t leave until the train was  going back again but they were “at the races”. 

My father was a racing man and went to most of the race meetings in the country. He had a lorry at the time so I had no problem getting to Listowel. As we passed each corner and side road, people would climb into the back of the lorry. No health and safety in those days!!  

Eventually, as I got a little older, I went with him across the bridge to the course for my first taste of horse racing. The first thing that interested me was the buskers who lined the lane down to the bridge playing accordions, banjos and fiddles with caps thrown in front of them to receive the few pence from the passers by. It was a lovely sound that could be heard from the Square all the way to the course. 

My first impression was the array of colour to be seen, especially on the jockeys who were bedecked in every colour of the rainbow. Then there was the hustle and bustle of the betting ring where punters jostled with each other to get the best odds which were bawled out by the bookies who stood up on a little platform. Then there was the parade ring where jockeys mounted after getting instructions from the various trainers who stood in little groups with owners and close connections. The racing itself was exciting with cheers and moans from the crowd as a favourite won or a horse, well backed, fell at a fence. 

The sights and sounds lingered in my head for days. Yes, there was magic in the air in Listowel, something I fear is sadly lacking in our modern society  with all it’s technology and advances. There are times when I am really glad to have been born when I was and got so much joy from the simple things in life.

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When meeting Famous People was an Everyday thing


Before Covid we used to have festivals galore. Meeting famous people was just accepted as a perk of living in North Kerry. Here are a few reminders.

 

Your blogger with Graham Norton at Writers’ Week

Jerry Hannon with Dáithí ÓSé at Listowel Races

Colm Tóibín and Brendan Kennelly at Writers’ Week

Fergal Keane and Éamon ÓMurchú at Writers’ Week

Liz Dunn and Éilís Wren with Caitríona Perry at Women in Media

                   

                           Me with Miriam O’Callaghan and Katie Hannon at Women in Media

ACOT, Rachel Blackmore, Massgoers and other Old Ways

Photo; Paul Madigan, Blackwater Photographic Society

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Remember ACOT ?


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Rachel Blackmore in Mike the Pies

Mike the Pies and Pat Healy organise a very popular event every year at the outset of race week. Pat rounds up some of his friends who are jockeys and they participate in a question and answer session. Rachel Blackmore was one of those jockeys in 2018.


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Going to Mass in Listowel in 1999



Cathleen Mulvihill posted this lovely picture recently in Glin Historical Society. The artist is Senan O’Brien. Cathleen tagged Whytes art auctions in the post but I couldn’t find the picture on the site. If anyone knows the artist or anything about him will you tell us please.

This seems to  be the days before the Writers’ Well

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Make Hay while the Sun Shines


Picture and caption from John Corcoran on Facebook



My uncle, by marriage Vincent O’Carroll of Listowel, and my Grandfather the late Jimmy Lynch of Knockanure, and later Clahane Ballyard Tralee, here in a memorable moment caught in time, bringing home the hay in the early 1960’s. 

Vincent O’Carroll now lives in Tralee..

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Martin Daly’s Cows


Martin Daly on his bike driving his cows home through the town for milking and back to pasture was an everyday sight in the Listowel I came to in the 1970s.


Photos: Anne Wixted


These  photos were taken on the Bridge Road in 1978 and show the late Martin Daly on his bike, driving his cows back down the Dog Track Road (now the Lodge etc.) after milking. The stone wall on the left hand side of the photo has been demolished now, and the Lodge itself has been relocated in to the Town Park.” 


 

Cough Syrup, an old Horse Fair and The Healing Session

Photo: Colm Doyle, Blackwater Photographic Society

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It will Either Kill you or Cure You

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Horse Fair 1972



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The Healing Session at Listowel Writers’ Week.

Mattie Lennon remembers a much loved staple of Writers’ Weeks past and Mattie’s own role in them.

The annual Healing Session was held in John B. Keane’s on the Sunday of Listowel Writers’ Week. For many this marathon Open-Mic session was the highlight of the festival. As far as I know there was no laying of hands . . . although there is a dimly-lit area in the west corner of the bar! George Rowley , Author and Civil Servant , was Master-of-Ceremonies for two decades. His contract expired in 2009 and he informed Billy Keane that he would not be renewing it but he would assist in securing a successor. Billy agreed but with the stipulation that George’s successor would have to be the opposite of George in all respects.

 

He would have to be;

 

*Unable to sing, dance, play an instrument or write.

*Be unattractive to females.

*Come from a county which hasn’t ever been beaten in an All-Ireland Final.

*Have an agricultural voice.

*Be in employment but have a healthy aversion to work.

A shortlist was drawn upand everyone on it was an antithesis of George. Yours truly was included and I was interviewed by Billy Keane in Croke Park at half time of the 2009 All-Ireland football final.

 

I heard nothing for several months. Then on Sunday 04th June 20010 at precisely 12.30 P.M. Billy Keane invested George Rowley as Grand Master of the Healing Session. (I’m told that the sash and other investiture items were since auctioned for charity.) I was then unveiled as the new joint- MC. with Billy.

 

And I mustn’t have been too bad because I was retained  in that role until Coved 19 struck.

It was my job to recruit a continuous stream of performers . That wasn’t difficult. The place was always  like the Marquee in Drumlish, with “Cajon Queens from New Orleans and Marys from Dungloe.”

 

 On my first day my amateur status showed more than once. When introducing a singer/songwriter from the Premier County I got mixed up between the two “Ridings.” A poet from Rathdowney put me wide pointing out, “ . . . there’s also a sort of a no-man’s-land across Tipperary where there’s no riding. When I introduced Paddy Phelan as a reciter Billy Keane was in like a shot to point out that the term is “Recitationist.”

 

The marathon always  finished at five thirty and only because the patrons of the Island Racecourse were due in.  Picasso said “If it’s worth stealing I’ll steal it” but I always said, “If  you come to John B’s the Sunday of Writers’ Week, if it’s worth healing we’ll heal it.”

 

While driving home on the Bank Holiday Monday in 2010 I was still on a high.  By the time I got to Abbeyfeale I had cobbled together the following bit of a rhyme.

 

 

The Healing Session.

By Mattie Lennon

 

The Angelus bell o’er William Street

Put people at their ease.

‘Though signs of irritation showed

In the queue outside John B’s.

The man beside me shuffled;

His face was stern and dour.

“With the Sergeant that’s in Listowel now,

We’ll be here for half an hour.”

When the bolt was drawn, with a stifled yawn,

The landlord scanned the scene.

“I’m stuck” says he “will you do MC”?

‘Twas the voice of Billy Keane.

The author of “ . . .”Our Rivers . . .”

Was quickly in full flow

With Jim Gornal and his small flute

(It’s called a Piccolo.)

We had farmer-scribes from Breffni

And teachers from Mayo.

Some looked like Priests in mufti

(But you wouldn’t really know.)

There were busmen-poets from Dublin

Who knew the “Jimmy Riddle.”

And singers wearing mini-skirts

That wouldn’t dust a fiddle.

Mike Gallagher, reciting,

Wore a Western Seaboard grin.

Tom Donovan whispered strategies

In the ear of Mannix Flynn.

And that woman from West Limerick,

With a bust above the norm,

I think she misinterpreted

When I asked her to perform.

A man who worked for CIE

Read prose about rails and sidings.

When I introduced a poet from Tipp

I got mixed up in the Ridings.

Mallow men and Tralee lads

Would send each other up.

With some things left unmentioned

(Like the Sam Maguire Cup.)

A Minnesota actor

Was delighted with my touch

But a lad from near Dungarvan said,

“You curse too fucking much.”

Retrospective FF bashing

From Biffo through to Harney.

When John Sheahan entered with his Strad

I pretended he was Barney.

The others all could come and go,

Which put me in a rage;

I wouldn’t get a break at all,

I couldn’t leave the stage.

If someone reads an epic poem

Sure I could walk away,

Relax for maybe half an hour,

An’ have me cup o’ tay.

Christ. That won’t bloody happen,

I’ll stick it out instead.

Then Pat McDermott rescued me;

He’d do “The Slatted Shed.”

The rest went very smoothly

With Sonnets and Haikus

With the odd race-goer filtering in

With non-poetic news.

The Healing Session over

(With its myriad acts and strands)

Except in one dark corner;

The laying-on of hands.

Those things can last ‘till Monday

And keep you on a high

But without cop- on will ruin you

And leave you high and dry.

I knew ‘twas time for winding down.

 I needed to get real

When I tried to pass a Squad-car

On the road to Abbeyfeale.

Liam Dillon R.I.P.

Photo; John Flynn, Blackwater Photographic Society


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Ní Bheidh a Leithéidí Arís i mo Shaol


For me, Listowel has not been the same since Anne Dillon passed away. With Liam now gone to his eternal reward, Listowel is that little bit more grey.

I came to Listowel to live in 1975. Liam was the local shopkeeper and Anne was a teacher in the local secondary school. Today, 46 years later, I am mourning the loss of my two great friends and two of my favourite Kerry born people in the whole world.

I came to know Anne first as a work colleague. She soon became a friend. Anyone who knew Anne also knew Liam. They were a team. Even though they had separate very different interests and very rich separate lives, they shared so much and they were one of the closest couples I know. Anne and Liam adored one another. The care they always gave to one another was magnified one hundred fold when, first Liam, and then Anne, fell ill.

Liam passed away peacefully on Good Friday 2021, two years after his beloved Anne. He was surrounded in his last weeks by his devoted family, Colette, Aine and his best mate, Éamonn.

Go gcloise tú ceol na n-éan ab ansa leat, i measc na naomh is na n-aingeal sna Flaithis go síoraí, a Liam.

I am reproducing here some of the lovely eulogy delivered by Éamonn at his dad’s funeral mass. The photographs that are not mine are  Éamonn’s.

Liam Dillon and his dog, Sparky, in Ballybunion in the 1950s.

Liam was born at No. 62 Church Street, Listowel on the 2nd July 1941 to John Joe Dillon and Eileen Lane. Liam was always immensely proud of the fact that he was at least the seventh generation of the Dillon family to be born in the town of Listowel itself. Prior to that, his family came from Cnoc an Fhásaigh.

Dad had a truly wonderful life. Liam married Anne Stack from Carrueragh, Knockanure in 1969 and they went on to have three children, Colette and Áine and myself.  Liam inherited the family shop at 62 Church Street and he ran that until he retired several years ago. No 62 Church Street was originally erected in 1870 by Paddy Lane (Liam’s maternal grandfather)  for his daughters. Liam’s paternal grandfather, Bill Dillon, came from further down Church Street where Walsh’s hardware shop used to be. 


Anne and Liam Dillon in The Listowel Arms in 2017

Liam was absolutely devastated when our mother Anne, who looked after him as they used to say “like a sick priest”, first fell ill and then passed away on the 3rd June 2019. 

Liam himself was initially diagnosed with cancer back in 2016 but Dad never complained and took everything in his stride, and with treatment, he lived a very full and happy life until last Christmas when his health suddenly deteriorated. 


Anne and Liam with neighbours and friends on Church Street

All throughout his life, Liam’s many friends, neighbours and relations in the town of Listowel generally, and in Church Street in particular, were a considerable source of delight to him.  Listowel and Church Street were also very important to him. Liam was born at No. 62 Church Street, had his business at No, 62 Church Street and, even when he retired from the shop at No. 62, he only moved a few doors up the street to the Old Rectory in Upper Church Street. And indeed St. Michael’s Graveyard, which will be his final resting place, is just a few steps further up the Street and across the road from The Old Rectory.  

The importance of place to Liam was always evident. Even though he travelled widely in earlier years, he was always happiest back in Listowel.  Over the past 20 months, since Mum passed away, his neighbours, family, in-laws and many friends all have rallied around. 

Of course, Dad had a very wide variety of interests. Since Anne died, he loved nothing more than spending time in his beloved aviary with his canaries and quail which he got back into after the passage of more than 65 years. 

Liam also loved reading, both history and fiction, his garden and plants, indoor and outdoor and, up to very recent years, walking as well as breeding and showing dogs.  We spent many a bank holiday over the years at Irish Kennel Club Dog Shows all over the country. Dad both showed and judged dogs in the Terrier and Toy classes at Irish Kennel Club dog shows. His registered kennel prefix was “Oldcourt” (harking back to his relations, the O’Sullivans, at the Old Court in Lixnaw) and, when he spotted entries with Ch (denoting champion) coupled with the Oldcourt prefix, he was always intensely proud. For many years Liam also had greyhounds, both coursing and track (an interest he shared with Patrick Walsh). 

Liam loved to tell the story about the time when, with his father, John Joe, in the 1950’s, he went to purchase a greyhound pup in Tipperary. One small brindle pup ran up to him and he selected that. However his father told him that “solids” were better runners and so he put down the brindle pup and selected a “solid”. Dad went on to have great luck and success with that pup and she even ran in the final of the Oaks. However, he would ruefully then point out that the first pup he picked up and put down also ran in the same race and won!

Liam and Anne with Eddie Moylan and myself at Listowel Races a few years ago.

Liam also enjoyed horse racing from the time when he used to attend the races with his own father as a child and that interest endured to the very end  with him enjoying, and keenly following, the racing from Cheltenham just the week before he passed away. 

Dad also loved music. When Dad was at home he played music every day. Our neighbours next door often mentioned to me how much they liked listening to the classical music that he played in the mornings. He especially liked the André Rieu concerts. However I am not sure what they made of the training videos that he regularly played for the young canary cocks to improve their singing! 

When Liam was in the Palliative Care Unit in Tralee for the past nine weeks, we all took turns playing songs that he requested. His taste was wide and varied.  Most of his selections, were, to us, very predictable. We knew what he liked.  “Red Sails in the Sunset”, “Doonaree” and selections from Oklahoma were regular favourites.  But he completely surprised me one evening when he asked me to play “Two out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meatloaf. When I expressed some surprise at this apparently unusual choice he completely astounded me by commenting that Meatloaf was a great performer live! He went to explain that he had attended a Meatloaf concert in Tralee with our late mother many years ago. Our father, the rocker!!!

 Dad was also very social and it would be true to say that our house was very much an “open house” over the years. Mum and Dad had a very wide circle of friends and relations who regularly called in over the years. We used to joke that the house was like Grand Central Station sometimes. All however were made very welcome and all their friends and relations brought much pleasure to both Mum and Dad over the years. It was one of the great disappointments this past year that Covid-19 prevented these visits. 

On occasions such as this it is often said that a person had a great faith. This was never truer than with Dad. He had a very private and intense faith and belief which never waivered.

 

One of the gifts (symbols of Liam’s life) that was brought up to the altar today was the poem “The Street” by the late, great John B. Keane. I must also say that although John B. nowadays is most often associated with William Street, he was born and raised in Church Street and is thus, rightfully, claimed by us. As we gather here today to honour and to give thanks for Liam’s life, the final stanza of John B’s “The Street” is, I think, rather apt.

“A golden mellow peace forever clings

Along the little street.

There are so very many lasting things

beyond the wall of strife

in our beleaguered life.

There are so many lovely songs to sing

of God and his eternal love that rings

of simple people and of simple things”

Beidh tú saor anois go deo, Liam. Slán abhaile. 


Liam and Éamonn Dillon, September 2020

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