Listowel Connection

Photo: Róisín Darby

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The Siege of Corona

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Republican prisoners’ Autographs

In 1921 several republicans were imprisoned in Ballykinlar Barracks in Co. Down, Northern Ireland. Maureen Barrett writes this to accompany the photos she sent us.

Two Listowel men John R Walsh and Morgan Sheehy signed an autograph while in a prison camp in Ballykinlar, Co.Down in 1921-it was actually a military base for the Royal Irish Regiment however these bases were also used by different commands and covert units of the British Army to detain Irish prisoners at that time-with them at the time was Sean Lemass and other notaries but he would be the name most recognized in our later history so thought I would include it-Maureen 

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Those Lost Parking Spaces

The story of the accommodations for pedestrians nervous about distancing continues.

I took these photos on William Street where two of the busiest shops in town are located. Jumbos and O’Connell’s Decor have consistently got queues of customers at their doors.

What in the name of all that’s good and holy is “age friendly parking”?

Photo: Róisín Darby

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Farran Wood

Last week I had to make a necessary journey to Cork. I took the opportunity to reconnect, socially distanced and outdoors with my Cork family.  We went to Farran Wood. It doesn’t compare to  Killarney National Park  and one of their favourite activities, the zip line, was closed  but it was lovely ro be outdoors and feeding ducks and deer again.

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Sign in a hairdressers in Ballincollig, Co. Cork

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Earthquakes and Fire in San Francisco in 1906- A Listowel Connection

Kerry Sentinel  Saturday, 19 May, 1906

San Francisco LETTER FROM A KERRYMAN.

Mr Michael Davitt has received the following letter from Mr Richard C O’Connor, Manager of the Hibernian Bank, San Francisco, one of the best known and most respected Irishmen in that city. Mr O’Connor, who is a native of Listowel, Co Kerry, where many of his relatives still live, has always been a strenuous and generous supporter of the Irish cause:—
San Francisco, April 27th, 1906.

MY DEAR MR DAVITT, 

San Francisco you know is practically gone. From Van Ness Avenue to the Bay, and out Market. Mission, and parallel streets to 20th street, is a heap of ruins; nothing left but a few broken walls that, like grim sentinels of the desert, look down upon nothing but desolation. A few buildings are left standing in this vast district, but their contents are destroyed, except the vaults  Among those left standing are the Palace Hotel, the Crocker Buildings, across the street, and the Union Trust Building The Mutual Bank, the Call Building, the St Francis Hotel, the Flood Building, the Post Office, the Hibernian Bank were destroyed. Only the walls of this latter building stand, but the vaults are intact
It will give you an idea of the fierceness of the fire when I tell you that the granite broke and apparently melted in our bank. All the Catholic churches are destroyed except a few very few in the outlying districts. And so the great, rich, proud city of San Francisco, through whose ‘”Golden Gate” the commerce of America passed out to the awakening Orient, is nothing but a heap of broken brick and stone, and the richest city, perhaps, in the world, in proportion to its population, is now living on the charity of the rest of the United States. And it is only just to say that their generosity has amply provided everything necessary except shelter, and that is coming in fast, as tents are poured into the city from every direction.
All this ruin was the result of an earthquake lasting just 47 seconds; but those who lived through those few seconds will carry the memory of them with them to the end.
I had been awake, perhaps, a minute or two, when suddenly the house shook as if struck by some mighty force, and the timbers creaked as if they were being ground into pieces. I jumped out of bed with the exclamation : “May God Almighty have mercy on us and save us,” on my lips. I was thrown across the room, staggering like one intoxicated, but I kept my feet and reached the door, got to the room where my youngest daughter sleeps, and pulling her out of bed, as she seemed dazed, I shouted to run into the street before the house would crush us in its ruins.
I must have jumped downstairs in my wild terror, for the earthquake was growing in intensity, and I held the street door open. All around was the crash of falling chimneys, breaking windows, and the terrifying shrieks of the women and children. My eldest daughter was hysterical, and her husband and brothers stood by her to assure her. At last, with one fierce shake, the earthquake bade us good-bye, but left ruin in its path.
The Dominican Church in front of my house, two blocks away, was broken to pieces, the roof falling in, and large portions of the walls thrown into the street—the finest church in the State of California. Three blocks away, the Girls’ High School was a wreck, and here and there in my immediate neighbourhood several houses had tumbled against their neighbours, which fortunately prevented their collapsing. The Post Office built by the United States Government at a cost of over 2.000,000 dollars, was cracked and seamed, the immense blocks of granite, some of which weighed several tons, were broken apart as if they were straws, while the streets in front were torn and broken.
Stanford University, the most magnificent gift to educational purposes ever given by a private individual, was very badly damaged, and the school is closed. Berkeley University has suffered but very little, but there also a vacation has been declared until next August. The City Hall, that imposing mass of buildings, with its splendid dome, is a complete wreck. The steel structure of the dome, however, still stands, and the figure of Liberty perched on top still stands, a most imposing figure amid the ruins, one hand lifted high, looking now like an angel pointing to Heaven, as if saying: “Earth and its glories may perish but There is everlasting peace.” The splendid Public Library is gone. I have given you but a faint idea of the ruin wrought by the earthquake, indeed I would be unable under any circumstances to convey to you an adequate idea of its extent, but the real work of destruction began when the fire broke out, and not a drop of water to quench the thirst of the angry flames, as the great water mains leading to the city were mostly broken for miles, and, of course, the fire had its own sweet will. The most destructive fire began in the poorer section of the city, behind the Palace Hotel, where the workingmen were already beginning to get breakfast ready. Several blocks of wooden houses, hastily and imperfectly constructed in the ” early days” of San Francisco, were aflame and fiercely burning, the fire spreading with alarming rapidity. I was on the scene early, but even with my recollection of Chicago’s great fire of 1872, I did not dream that the flames would eat up every building counted ” fireproof” in the city. For three days the fire raged, nothing to stop it but the soldiers blowing up with dynamite whole blocks of buildings that lay in its path, in the vain hope to stop it.
You may remember Van Ness Avenue, a street about as wide us your O’Connell Street, running across the city from Market street to the Bay on the north. Along this avenue and the adjacent streets the wealthy people had their palatial homes. And here I based my hopes of stopping the fire. It crossed, however, in one spot for a block or two, but after a desperate fight was driven back, and the district of the city in which my house is situated, known as the Western Addition, was saved from the flames.
About 10 o’clock on the night of the third day’s fire a policeman, accompanied by a crier, drove swiftly through the streets announcing that the fire had been turned back, and there was now no danger of its advancing further. How welcome the news! How glad I was to learn that the house endeared to me by so many tender associations was spared you may imagine.

 In the fierce fight to stem the advancing tide of flame, I cannot omit mentioning the heroic deed of a gallant son of Tipperary , the Rev Philip O’Ryan, The Cathedral, to which he is attached, stands facing Van Ness Avenue, on the western side, the golden cross surmounting the high tower glinting in the morning sunlight. The tower took fire, and the church was apparently doomed, And with it the entire Western Addition. This was the only part of the city supplied by water from a system independent of the rest of the city. father O Ryan trained in the athletics of the Gaelic Athletic Association, climbed up the tower inside, had a hose tied to the bell-rope which he hauled up and crawling out turned the hose on the burning tower, aided by Father Rouan ?, who shared his peril, succeeded in extinguishing the flames, despite the intense heat, which it seemed Impossible to with-stand.
Notwithstanding the ruin wrought; and the fortunes that were, lost, but one spirit seemed to pervade the people—gratitude that they had survived the fearful catastrophe and a determination to build up a more beautiful San Francisco on the ruins of the old. Already the work has begun, and hundreds of men are at work clearing away the debris. Our bank will be ready for business in about two weeks, and I very much mistake if the good old Hibernian, under its careful conservative management, does not rise again as it rose before in a time of great financial disaster, a bulwark against panic and despair. We have available in cash, and bonds which are readily convertible into cash, about 27,000,000 dollars in round numbers. So you see we have nothing to fear.
I will communicate with you from time to time about the trend of things here; in the meantime you need have no concern about the state of affairs.
With bent wishes for yourself, Mrs Davitt and family.—Believe me, yours very sincerely. 

 

R C O’CONNOR.

 

I got your cablegram. Many thanks. Judge Tobin feels the disaster to the city very keenly. His nephews lost their splendid home on ” Nob Hill.” 

 

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The New Normal

I was in town on Saturday and I spotted men at work on this structure outside Allos in Church Street. Could it be an outdoor dining area?

I asked one of the workmen, the joker of the pack as it turned out.

“Hold on a minute and I’ll give you the first dance.” says he.

On Monday when I went to town, these cordoned off areas of roadway were all over town. The one outside Allos is the only one I saw with a platform. They are kind of lay-bys for pedestrian overtaking and queueing it would appear. 

Social distancing gone mad?

Church Street definitely seems to have the biggest allocation of these. This one is just a skip and a jump from the one at Allos.

I’ll make enquiries as to what the meaning of this is.

You can see the one across the road is almost directly opposite.

This one is on William Street. It is right next to an area where you can step out or queue for Jumbos.
 

 

Photo: Róisín Darby

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Broderick’s Pharmacy is being repainted

This was last week. I’ll update you with the new look when I get down town again.

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Laurel and Hardy in Dublin in the 1950s

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Friends Day Out

Anne Malone who is a baby on her mother’s lap in this photo sent us this photo of some Market Street friends in Ballybunion in the 1950s.

Gerard Leahy has helped us with the names. In the photo are

The young boy on the right is Anne’s brother Frank, next is her mother, Mary Malone and Anne is the infant on her lap,  The next lady with a baby on her lap also is  Betty Leahy. The baby is probably Gerard.

We are less sure of the following names, Eleanor Scanlon, Peggy O’Sullivan and the children are most likely Whelans or possibly Ena Leahy. All of these Market Street neighbours were friends.

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“…old unhappy far off things

And battles long ago.”

The following old newspaper story comes from the days of Moonlighters and Boycotting and rural unhappiness,

 Monday, 02 February, 1891

LISTOWEL QUARTER SESSIONS. CURIOUS ACTION FOR SLANDER

Listowel, Saturday.
At the Quarter Sessions, yesterday, before Mr. J. A. Curran and a special jury, John M’Namara, of Guhard, sued Richard Cantillon, of Ballydonoghue, for £500, for certain slanderous language made use of by the defendant on the 8th October last. The action, which was a remitted one, attracted considerable interest, and had its origin in some Moonlighting occurrences which took place in the neighbourhood of Ballydonoghue some time ago.
Mr.E.R.. Wade, B.L. (instructed by Mr. J. Moran), represented the complainant, and Mr F. Creagh was for the defendant.
From the evidence it appeared that the plaintiffs mother came into town on the 8th of October last and visited Miss Breen’s refreshment House, where she gave the proprietress some money to pay Cantillon for her as she was afraid of doing so herself, as she said that Cantillon was boycotted on account of evicting a man named Dennehy from his holding and which Cantillon had purchased from the Land Commission. On going into the room she met Cantillon inside and he asked her why she did not pay himself in person, and she said she was afraid, and then he said. “Wasn’t it your children that cut the tails off the horses that were working for me?” Mrs. M’Namara then called on two persons who were present at the time to witness what Cantillon had said. Cantillon stated that it was currently rumoured in the Ballydonoghue district that Mrs M’Namara’s children were implicated of the horse tails and when he made the observation he only repeated it as a rumour. He had been subjected to very severe boycotting, and the house from which Dennehy was evicted was, shortly after he got possession, burned to the ground, as well as other property of his down at the village.  He had also to withdraw his children from the local National School because other children left it in consequence of their attendance there and the M’Namara family had entered into the boycotting against him. When he made use of the observation at Miss Breen’s to Mrs. M’Namara he included the plaintiff.
Mr. Wade and Mr. Creagh both addressed the jury at considerable length, the latter commenting on the system of boycotting practised against Cantillon, which had rendered his life wretched and miserable in the highest degree, and which was a disgrace to any civilized country. Except for the few friends who had stood by him he might as well be living in the desert of Sahara as in Ballydonoghue, and he said they (the jury) would be. helping on the vile conspiracy if they gave as much as the one-tenth part of the smallest coin of the realm as damages to the plaintiff in that action.
His Honor, in summing up, said the whole case arose out of that cursed system of boycotting, and they had there evidence in that case where friends and the nearest of neighbours turned out the bitterest of foes as a result of the system of boycotting. It appeared that Mrs. M’Namara had a large family, and lived quite close to the farm which had been held by Dennehy and Cantillon, in which Mrs M’Namara had no concern. Those dealings resulted in Cantillon becoming the owner, by purchase and he was then boycotted, and the M’Namara family, who had, even up to that, been on friendly terms with the Cantillons, joined in the boycotting, and left him severely alone. They met at Miss Breen’s, and he Cantillon made use of an expression. There was not much difference between the two versions of the expression made use of by Cantillon, and when a man made use of an expression of that kind it was tantamount to saying he committed the thing. The issue was—Did the defendant use the words sworn to by Mrs M’Namara or did he use the words sworn to by himself?  The defendant was not afraid to say in court that he included the plaintiff in his observation to Mrs M’Namara, and the plaintiff asked them to give him damages for the words used.
Damages of a farthing was awarded to plaintiff.

(A farthing was a quarter of an old penny)