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

Knitwits, Discountland, Creamery staff and a poem to remind us of our mortality

Market Street, Listowel, March 2019

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Knitwits Welcome back Una Hayes

Lovely to have Una back knitting with us after an absence due to illness.

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New Discount Shop in Old Location


William Street in March 2019 and a new store opens.

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Memory Lane in The Advertiser


I took this photo from last week’s Advertiser

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The Clock of Life


I posted this before and it proved popular

Knockanore Graveyard, A Mattie Lennon Story and An Gleann took the Honours in 1971

Incomparable Stucco Detail at McKenna’s


Understated timeless elegance well worth preserving

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Knockanore Then and Now


Photo; Kerry Archeological Magazine


Knockanore Today


This lovely hill top burial place has within its confines the ruins of an old church. Since graveyards were originally churchyards it is quite common to see the remains of the old church still standing in today’s cemeteries. It is not usual to see graves within the wall of the church.

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A Mattie Lennon Story with a Listowel Connection


BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS

By Mattie Lennon

“Les bons pauvres ne savent pas que leur office est d’exercer Notre gererosite.” (The poor don’t know that their function in life is to Exercise our generosity.)

Jean-Paul Sarte.

Isn’t it wonderful that the stupid law (The Vagrancy (Ireland) Act 1847) has been found to be unconstitutional.

It reminds me of the first time I met the late John B.Keane in Grafton Street, in Dublin. He was being ushered Brown-Thomas-ward by his spouse. And cooperating fully: unusual for a husband. I accosted him to say thanks for his prompt reply when I had written to him shortly before requesting information for an article I was writing.

We were about thirty seconds into the conversation when an adult male with a lacerated face and looking very much the worse for wear approached me. The polystyrene cup in his outstretched hand proclaimed that he would not be offended by a donation.

I contributed 20p (I think). Ireland’s best-known playwright turned his back, (I’m sure he picked up the gesture in the Stacks Mountains as a young fellow) extracted a substantial amount and gave to the needy. I then thought that a man who had written about everything from cornerboys to the aphrodisiac properties of goat’s milk could enlighten me on an enigma, which I had been pondering for decades.

You see, dear reader, if I were talking to you on a public thoroughfare anywhere in the world and a beggar was in the vicinity he would ignore you as if he was a politician and you were a voter after an election. But he would home in on me. I don’t know why. Maybe, contrary to popular opinion, I have a kind face. Come to think of it that’s not the reason. Because I have, on many occasions, been approached from the rear. Many a time in a foreign city my wife thought I was being mugged. When in fact it was just a local with broken, or no English who had decided to ask Mattie Lennon for a small amount of whatever the prevailing currency was. Maybe those people have knowledge of Phrenology and the shape of my weather-beaten head, even when viewed from behind, reveals the fact that I am a soft touch.

However, a foreman gave a more practical explanation to the boss, on a building site where I was employed many years ago. The site was contiguous to a leafy street in what is now fashionable Dublin 4 and those from the less affluent section of society used to ferret me out there. Pointing a toil-worn, knarled, forefinger at me the straight-talking foreman, Matt Fagen, explained the situation to the builder, Peter Ewing, a mild mannered, pipe-smoking, kindly Scot. “Every tinker an’ tramp in Dublin is coming to this house, an’ all because o’ dat hoor……because dat hoor is here…an’ they know he’s one o’ themselves.”

 I was relating this to John B. adding, ” I seem to attract them.”

 To which he promptly replied;” (calling on the founder of his religion). You do.”

 The reason for his rapid expression of agreement was standing at my elbow in the person of yet another of our marginalized brethren with outstretched hand.

 So the best-known Kerryman since Kitchener left me none the wiser as to why complete strangers mistake me for Saint Francis of Assisi.

 And salutations such as “hello” or “Good morning” are replaced by “How are ye fixed?”, “Are you carrying” and, in the old days, “Have you a pound you wouldn’t be usin’ “?

 I do not begrudge the odd contribution to the less well off and I am not complaining that I am often singled out as if I was the only alms-giver. Come to think of it, it is, I suppose, a kind of a compliment.

 Sometimes I say ; “I was just going to ask you”, but I always give something and I don’t agree with Jack Nicholson who says; ” The only way to avoid people who come up to you wanting stuff all the time is to ask first. It freaks them out.” Those unfortunate people are bad enough without freaking them out.

Of course there are times when it is permissible not to meet each request with a contribution. I recall an occasion in the distant, pre-decimal days when a man who believed that, at all times, even the most meagre of funds should be shared, approached my late father for five pounds. When asked ; ” Would fifty shillings be any use to you?” he conceded that yes, half a loaf would be better than no bread.

Lennon Senior replied; “Right. The next fiver I find I’ll give you half of it.”

 Of course none of us know the day or the hour we’ll be reduced to begging. In the meantime I often thought of begging as an experiment. But I wouldn’t have what it takes. Not even the most high powered advertising by Building Societies and other financial establishments can restore my confidence, to ask for money in any shape or form, which was irreparably damaged when I asked a Blessington shopkeeper for a loan of a pound nearly forty years ago.

 He said; I’d give you anything, son….but it’s agin the rule o’ the house.”

 I wonder was he a pessimist. It has been said that you should always borrow from a pessimist; he doesn’t expect it back. Well recently I was in a restaurant when a work colleague texted me asking to borrow a small amount of money……he was seated two tables away.

 As JFK said in his inaugural speech: ” If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.”

I don’t know about the rich but I have learned one thing about the poor;

 BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS.

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An Gleann, Winners of the Street League in 1971

John Kelliher posted this old one on Facebook and here are the names as he had them with a little help from his friends.

Jerry Kelliher behind Tony O’Donoghue then John Driscoll , I think that’s Pete Sugrue alongside J D. Richard Connor back holding the pup and Tony Donoghue beside him. 

Front Left Vincent O Connor, Eileen Kelliher holding the cup. I think that’s Fongo in front of Tony Donoghue 

 Bendigo next to Vincent and I nearly sure it’s Donal Brown next RIP. Donal Brown was captain.


Newtownsandes Creamery, Greenville Road, Gapo’s and St. Patrick’s Day in California

Market Street, Listowel in March 2019

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Moyvane Creamery


These photos are from this year’s creamery calendar

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Work has started




The site is cleared beside the convent chapel.

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Gapo’s




Last week I posted these photos and people have asked me since who are these lovely people who run Gapo’s. A few years ago Listowel Food Fair did the food stories of Listowel’s eateries. Below is their photo and text about Gapo’s.

Gapo’s



We have a real fairy tale Food Story for you this week. 



From one of the world’s most ancient nations, to a North Kerry town at the heart of rural Ireland. The journey for Gapo’s begins far away in Armenia where Head Chef Artur Gabrielyan comes from. Born and raised near the country’s capital Yerevan one of Europe’s most exuberant and endearing cities, Artur was born into a family steeped in food culture. All family both immediate and extended were involved in cooking, his grandmother Nvart was the head village Cook, the lady who villagers called on whenever there was a cause for celebration; birthdays, christenings or weddings. Nvart would gather her crew, usually several other village women all great cooks they would get together and feed the party. Creating hearty feasts of their country, sharing dishes and great times. Having grown up in this environment, it’s not surprising that Artur chose a career in food, although it didn’t begin that way.

Living in Yerevan in the late 1990s, Artur closed the business he was running largely due to the unrest around him, the city had remained in turmoil since its break from the Soviet Union in 1991. He felt a life away from his homeland was the best option for his future. Initially planning on heading to Sweden with his friend, this didn’t work out and he found himself in Ireland. His first experience of Irish culture was watching Riverdance while still living Yerevan, the iconic dance performance captured his imagination and planted Ireland in his conscious.

On arriving in Ireland, he first came to Dublin and shortly afterwards arrived to Listowel. It was here he found his feet and began taking English classes that were being offered at the time to residents in the town looking to learn the language. While doing these classes, a local woman Sue McKenna who noted his talent for food, introduced him to Mario Del Alessandro who took him on as a chef. And so, began a 16-year career at Casa Mia’s Ristorante further up William Street.

Not only did he find a job, he also met his wife Liene Druka who worked as a waitress at the restaurant. Liene had arrived on a gap year from college with her friend, a native of Tukums Latvia, she spent a year at Casa Mia’s before returning to college to complete her studies. Once her studies finished, she was back in Listowel and remained working at Casa Mia’s until the birth of their first son in 2007. Following on from that she worked locally in both Ballybunion and Listowel until 2016 when the couple decided to open their own restaurant. Spotting a demand for something different in the town, while also having the opportunity to create Armenian style dishes, Artur and Liene took over the property on William Street formerly known as Mai Fitz’s. Opening on May 11th, 2016 they have made their mark as giving a unique dining experience in the town. While there are several Lebanese style restaurants located on the east coast, close to Dublin, to find an Armenia exclusive restaurant is tough. So, it may be possible that Listowel has the only Armenian Restaurant in Ireland!

The creations at Gapo’s are uniquely Armenian with a reference to European cuisine. Artur and Liene offer an experience for their guests by taking them on a journey through the different countries by using food as their vehicle. The main characteristics of Armenia Cuisine are a reliance on the quality of the ingredients, the use of wheat in a variety of forms, of legumes, nuts, and fruit as a main ingredient as well as to sour food, and the stuffing of a wide variety of leaves. The Tabule dish for just €6 served as a starter on the evening menu is a great way of trying out the cuisine.

And what does the name Gapo’s represent? Gapo is the name of Artur’s grandfather who without doubt would be very proud of the success his grandson has achieved here in Ireland.

We have had a real adventure this week with Gapo’s and would like to thank Artur, Liene and their two beautiful sons Gabriel and Mikael for having us and sharing their Food Story. 

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St. Patrick’s Day in San Diego



They’re planning a hooley in California


A Parade in the 1980s, Change is the peat industry in the 1960s and a Church Street skyline in 2019




At the Corner of Charles Street and William Street





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Last of Danny Gordon’s St. Patrick’s Day in Listowel in the1980s Photos



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Trinity College and Dame Street, Dublin in 1930




Photo ; National Library

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Changing Times at Bord na Mona




A photo from the Foidin machine, taken in 1967. There’s also another one in the background. The Foidin or small sod programme, began work in 1965 and was an attempt to produce small sods of peat on milled peat bogs. This was because of a succession of bad summers during the 1960s. Much of the experimental work was carried out at Oweninny, Co. Mayo. However the machines were too big and the programme was dropped in the early 1970s. The seventies also brought a lot of dry sunny summers.



Photo and text: Tony McKenna


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Look Up




Signs and shingles on Church St., Listowel in March 2019

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Vincent Carmody on His Book Tour




Vincent met up with the Carpenter family, who are frequent visitors to Listowel, on his book tour cum holiday in the USA.

Photo: John Carpenter on Facebook

St. Patrick’s Day in the 90s, Charles Street, Local Fairs and Ita Hannon’s stag is a winner

Photo: Chris Grayson

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Charles Street Then and Now



2004


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St. Patrick’s Day Parade in the 1990s


Photos; Danny Gordon

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Ballybunion Folklore



(from the Dúchas collection)

Local Fairs

Fairs are not held in this district nor does anyone remember fairs being held here. They are held in Listowel which is the nearest town to us. Very often before a big fair buyers or jobbers went around to the farmers houses to buy calves and sometimes cattle. This is still carried on.

 There are no accounts of former fairs being discontinued or of fairs being held on hills, near churchyards, near castles, or near forts. In Listowel the fairs are held in the streets, in the square, and in the market place. No toll was collected in the streets but for every cow you’d carry into the square you’d have to pay seven pence and for every pig you’d carry into the market place you’ have to pay a penny. This money was given to Lord Listowel.

 Luck money is always given. It is called luck money. For every pig or bonham a schilling is given and for a cow half a crown. If prices are high a pound is given as luck money for a horse but if prices are low five schillings is given. When a bargain is made the seller holds out his hand and the buyer strikes it with his clenched fist. A piece of hair is cut out of the cows side to show she is sold. A dab of paint is then stamped on it. This is done sometimes on the cows back.

(There is no name recorded for the pupil who collected this piece of folklore)

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Look Up




If you look up here you might forget for a minute that you are in Market Street, Listowel.

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Winner Alright




Ita Hannon’s brilliant photograph of a magnificent stag was awarded photograph of the month by The Irish Wildlife Trust.

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