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

Tag: Bobby Cogan

What I’m Reading, Junior Griffin’s Reminiscences continued and more Irish dancing photos

By

On November 24, 2016

In Uncategorized

 May all our U.S. Friends Have a Great Thanksgiving



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Listowel Castle

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Humans of Listowel

Bobby Cogan met his old badminton coach, Roly Chute, on the street when he was home for the weekend. He was delighted to hear that Roly is still going strong and still teaching the skills of badminton to North Kerry’s youngsters.  Over the years Roly has given thousands of hours coaching tennis and badminton. Listowel owes hm a big debt of gratitude.

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What I’m Reading

Hazel Gaynor is an Englishwoman living in Kildare. She writes a great story.  In The Girl from The Savoy she opens our eyes to a world we will never experience, post war London. Her style is easy to read, carefully researched and accessible. I’m enjoying this one.

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Junior Griffin’s Reminiscences continued

……..We didn’t realize then but we
ere back in Páirc Uí Caoimh before the year was out. That was for the Cork V.
Dublin All Ireland semi final replay.

The days before the match the
Dublin press continually queried the wisdom of staging this match in Cork.

That morning Munster
officials, the late Tadhgh Crowley and Donny Nealon called the strilesmen
together. They requested us to be extra vigilant and to remain on duty until we
were officially closed. Munster proved that they could stage the fixture.
Everything  went off without a hitch and
there were no problems.

Incidently, dear reader, can
you rememebee who p;layed in the Austin Stack Park on the same day that Cork
and Dublin played that semi final in Páirc Uí Caoimh. Answer anon.

The centenary year of 1984
saw the hurling final played in Thurles, the birthplace of the GAA. I remember
getting a bit of a telling off because of that final. I was on duty on the
terrace stiles on the town end. The senior final was well on when I was
approached by three North Kerry men seeking admission with one ticker. I let
them in. That was close to 4.00 p.m. on Sunday, Tadhgh Crowley heard it being
conversed on a pub in Tralee on the following Tuesday night. So much for people
keeping their mouths shut.

The old type low stiles were
much more difficult to manage than the modern ones.The stilesman did have the
same control. At rimes in the old low stile you would be startled by a fleeting
shadow soaring over the bar of the stile showing Carl Lewis type agility. All
you’d hear would be a loud guffaw as the intruder made his way to the safety of
being lost in the crowd. The rouses used by people to sek free admissions were
many. The common ones would be for a lady possibly with a few children to come
in first and pointing back would exclain,”Himself is paying,” “Himself” comes
in and you’ve guessed it. He is on his own. He never before saw that woman! I
can assure you that, more often than not, if you searched around later you
would see the big happy family together.

Also a group of 5 or 6 men
would queue up together. The one the rear would be gesticulating wildly and
calling “right-right-right”; giving the impression he was paying for the lot.
His turn comes- and “I am only paying for myself; I was calling to my friend
who went in on the other stile”.

The experienced stilesman
will always ask the first person to pay where there is a group. The chancer
will generally retort ” is it so you don’t trust me boy?”

Some years ago one of my
collegues, John, was approached in Limerick by a gentleman who was in a very
agitated state. Almost in tears, the poor man told John his pocket had been
picked and he had been cleaned out. Being a soft hearted Kerryman, John had
pity on the man and let him through.

The following Sunday, John
was on duty in Cork, and, low and behold- who came to his stile but the same
gentlemen in the same agitated state, John knew he was caught once but not
again. Your man was told, not too politely, where to go. I wonder what are the
odds of him picking the same stilesman on successive Sundays? No doubt our
friend is still performing his Oscar like performance to this day at stiles
somewhere throughout the province to this day.

The dreaded stile, is, of
course, the student and OAP stile. Look at the queue outside the student stile
at any major match and one could only surmise that the students of every
university in Ireland must be in attendance. To the genuine student, the
student card is like his right hand and he will always have it in his
possession. But so often we hear, “ I left it at home”; “I left it in the car”
and so forth.

The variation of cards
produced would make the mind boggle. The stilesman has seen them all, from meal
vochers to petrol vouchers to playing cards. The cards are flashed in front of
the stilesman eyes and disappear so fast with a slight of hand dexiterity that
would make the great Houdini gasp with amazement.

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More Photos from the Eisteddfod

Eileen O’Sullivan has shared a few new photos of Jimmy Hickey’s dancers trips to Wales.


These photos were taken in 1999 as the Irish dancers entertained local people in the town square. Here they are dancing a polka set.

 Eileen O’Sullivan did the intricate Celtic design embroidery on her daughter, Michelle’s costume. Traditionally the costumes featured  embroidery and crochet lace collars.

Michelle O’Sullivan with  Noreen OConnor

Michelle O’Sullivan and Sarah O’Sullivan in Wales

Listowel in the 1950s, Church Street, Hannah Keane and Ronan Wilmot in St. John’s

By

On August 12, 2015

In Uncategorized

Main Street, Listowel 2015

The Small Square; looking good in summer 2015

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The Advertiser

The Advertiser is running a great series on old Listowel and North Kerry. Denis Walsh is doing a great job and his free publication is flying out of the shops as soon as it hits the shelves on Fridays. Here are a few photos from an issue on Church St. You can read the full magazine by clicking the link above.


This is taken in front of Larry’s butcher’s. The house was then owned by Mr. Keane.


Like Flavins, this business is still trading on Church Street.

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Hannah Keane of Church Street








On August 2 2015, Conor Keane posted this photo and tribute to his grandmother.



Today, the Keane, Klaben, O’Connor, Schuster and Purtill families celebrate the memory of the late Hannah Keane, nee Purtill, who died on this day in 1989, aged 88. 

Hannah Keane was a remarkable Kerry woman who was threatened with summary execution by the Black and Tans for the daring role she played with her late brothers in Ireland’s successful battle for independence from 1919 to 1921. Like many of her generation she rarely spoke about those days, instead preferring to look to the future.

She raised an exceptional family with her school teacher husband Bill (William) who pre-deceased her in 1963; their offspring in turn raised some amazing children who I am proud to call friends first, but cousins also.

And now another generation of Keanes, Klabens, O’Connors and Schusters are on the go – all great friends and great grandchildren of Bill and Hannah Keane of 45 Church Street, Listowel, County Kerry.

Here’s to my grandmother Hannah Keane late of Listowel and Ballydonoghue, affectionally know as ‘Hanny honours’ by her numerous grandchildren who loved her dearly.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a h-anam



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Liz Chute shared this Church Street memory

 Church Street was a wonderful Street filled with interesting people . Over thirty years ago Mr Lawlee got a heart attack and was obviously in hospital . A few days later my own wonderful mother had a heart attack herself and believe it or not within a few days Michael Quille had one .  These houses were within 500 yards of each other . One evening whilst all three were in hospital a client of Allos hopped the ball that he had better watch out but Allo quick as ever responded ” not at all lads ‘ tis going in the other direction !!


And from Maurice O’Sullivan



I agree with Liz. Church St. was a wonderous place to grow up with so many characters or oddballs. Molly Flaherty shared Hannah Keane’s interest in leaving cert results or “d’onours”. Hannah had a massive opposition in the McMahons across the road. It didn’t matter that she had such successful children Eamon and John B. d’onours were still paramount. I suppose never in history had so many characters lived in such close proximity. Moll Troy, Dillon (who hated dogs) Lina Mullally, Ginny with the lame step, Nora O’ Grady, Short Pants the harness maker, John Joe Dillon, captain Shanahan, Mickey and Delia Kearney, Ina Collins. This is only a fraction.





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Summer Walk 2015



Bobby Cogan and his sons, Killian and Sean walking on William Street, August 2015.

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Ronan Wilmot in St. John’s


(photo:Flickr images)

Ronan Wilmot is the son of a Listowel man. He was back in his father’s hometown to give us three nights of excellent theatre in The Tailor and Ansty.

For people who don’t know the story, the tailor was Timothy Buckley of Guagane Barra in Co. Cork. He was a well known seanchaí and with his gentle wife, Anastasia, held open house for all who wanted to come to listen to his stories.  Tim was a well travelled Kerryman and he had married in to the Buckley holding; a cottage with the grass of one cow. He was a very witty man and had a way of turning a phrase that made him much sought after in the 1940’s as a colorful character and storyteller.

The acclaimed Cork stone sculptor, Seamus Murphy. made a bust of him  and Eric Cross a Cork journalist, wrote a book about him, full of stories and anecdotes he had collected from him.

It was this book that brought ruination down on the heads of Tim and his wife. The book was banned by the Censorship of Publications Board because of its ribald content. A delegation of 4 priests came to the tailor’s house and forced him to burn his copy of the book.

The poor couple were devastated, disgraced in the community…”read from the altar”. Their neighbours shunned them. No one came to hear Tim’s stories any more. They were ruined.

This is the story that was brought to life for us by Ronan Wilmot and Ena May of the Dublin Theatre Company. It was a great night’s theatre. Both actors had their subjects to a T. The tailor was lazy but eminently entertaining, a witty, larger than life presence who had an abundant store of stories and observations which made him great company. Ansty, his long suffering wife, clearly loved him and took pride in his great store of learning. Their uncomprehending acceptance of the injustice visited on them was poignantly portrayed in the final scene where they close the door as they realize that their usual nightly visitors are not coming and they settle down to their other nightly ritual, The Rosary.

1942 Ireland is hardly recognizable to today’s young people. The closest we come to it today is the Taliban of Afghanistan. Important plays like this make sure we never forget.

Liam Healy and JT McNamara and the first of St. Patrick’s Day photos

By

On March 18, 2013

In Uncategorized

People who read this blog regularly will know that I often include a photo from the great Listowel photographic firm, Healyracing. I have huge admiration for the Healy family. Liam Healy Sr. is a modest gentlemen, who has used his immense talent as a lensman to build up a successful business. He is also a proud family man who has passed on his passion for horses and his talent as a photographer to the next generation. All of the Healys have built up friendships with the racing fraternity. There is a mutual respect and admiration. These are hardworking people who see, at first hand, the passion and hard graft that each puts into his chosen profession. So I was not surprised when I read the following article in yesterday’s Independent.

John O’Brien’s article in full can be read here;

http://www.independent.ie/sport/horse-racing/everybody-hurts-for-true-friend-29135214.html

JT McNamara

17 MARCH 2013

AN hour after the last race on Thursday,
as the last few racegoers filtered towards the exits, Liam Healy sat on the cold
concrete steps in the stand overlooking Cheltenham racecourse, took a long pull
from his cigarette and did something he couldn’t recall doing for 30 years. He
wept. Shed tears for a jockey who wasn’t just a trusted colleague and a fine
horseman, but his most cherished friend in life too.

A few hours earlier, Healy had taken his
customary position by the last fence as the field streamed down to the start
for the Kim Muir Handicap Chase. His brother, Pat, stood a few yards away,
snapping the runners as they cantered past. When he saw John Thomas McNamara
approaching on Galaxy Rock, Pat knew what to expect. McNamara would wave his
whip and shout, “Good man Pat Cash,” calling Healy by his nickname.
Typical John Thomas, he thought.

Their friendship isn’t difficult to
understand. The Healys have been taking racing pictures since 1975. Not a
dynasty like the Moores or the Mullinses, perhaps, but a hugely respected
racing family all the same. Most days they drive to the races, the road will
take them no more than a few miles from the McNamara’s place in Croom from
where Andrew, John Thomas’ uncle, sent Yer Man to finish third in the 1983
Grand National. Andrew bred two sons, Andrew Jr and Robbie, to be fine horsemen
too. A racing family to their core.

What they knew about John Thomas told them
that when Galaxy Rock came to grief at the first fence and the jockey lay prone
on the ground, the situation was grim. “He’s the type of fella,” says
Liam, “that if he doesn’t get up immediately after a fall, you know he’s
hurt.” A couple of hours later, Richie Harding, who had ridden in the
race, called and confirmed his worst fears. “Healy,” he said sadly.
“I’m not going to lie to you. He’s down.”

In the cruel logic that prevails in
racing, it is often the most innocuous falls that reap the grimmest consequences.
Not this time, though. The moment McNamara struck the ground, it was apparent
to those close by that he was in serious trouble. Riding Vesper Bell for his
father, Patrick Mullins steered his horse around Galaxy Rock, wide enough to be
out of danger, close enough to sense something bad had happened.

“When I went by him I heard this loud
crack and I presumed it was the horse,” says Mullins. “But next thing
I see the horse is fine and then we missed out the fence on the following
circuit so you’re just hoping he’s okay. He’s one of the oldest amateurs
around, a gentleman and a character. Everyone likes John Thomas.”

The crack Mullins heard was almost
certainly the stray hoof of an oncoming horse landing flush on McNamara’s
helmet, inflicting the blow that left him with potentially catastrophic spinal
injuries. “One of the doctors said afterwards that the helmet was
absolutely shredded to bits,” says Liam Healy. “The horse just stood
on it. There’s just nothing anyone can do about that.”

A few miles away, Davy Russell watched the
racing unfold in his room in Cheltenham General Hospital. That morning a doctor
had drained blood from his lung, damaged from a fall the previous day, so he
could ride that afternoon. After riding Stonemaster in the Pertemps Final, the
second race on the card, the pain had become too severe. Russell would watch
the rest of the Festival from a hospital bed, sore but largely in one piece.

Russell and McNamara are cut from the same
cloth. Stalwarts of the point-to-point circuit, the true grassroots of the
game, great rivals and friends for many years. One day Healy remembers driving
with Russell to the races and asking who he regarded as the best jockey he’d
ridden against, expecting the answer to be Ruby Walsh or AP McCoy. But Russell
was adamant the best horseman he’d seen and ridden against was John Thomas
McNamara.

For a time Healy felt a smidgen of
sympathy for Russell, but it passed quickly. And not just because of McNamara’s
bad luck. “Did you hear about Jonjo?” he asks. Last month, he
explains, far away from the attention of the wider world, Jonjo Bright, a
19-year-old jockey from Co Antrim, suffered horrific injuries after a fall at a
point-to-point meeting in Tyrella and remains in hospital in Belfast.
“First Jonjo and now John Thomas,” Healy sighs. “You just pray
these things don’t come in threes.”

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I had visitors for the long weekend.

Bob and Carine were on their way to Fergus O’Connor’s wedding and my darling grandsons were spending the weekend in Listowel.

On this trip to The Kingdom, the boys were accompanied by Ted.

Sean is in Miss O’Connor’s class in Scoil Barra in Ballincollig. Miss O’Connor has a teddy named Ted and for 6 years now Ted has gone with Miss O’Connor to whatever class she was teaching. One pupil at a time takes Ted home and writes a diary entry detailing what Ted has done while he was their guest. Ted arrived in Listowel on Friday night.

On Saturday the sun shone and Ted started his Kerry adventure. In the morning he went to Knitwits.

He modelled a hat and tried his paw at a bit of knitting.

In the afternoon we took Ted to Ballybunion.

On Sunday Ted and the boys went to the parade. Here are a few of the groups they saw.

I took about 400 photos of the parade so I’m slowly sorting them out. I’ll post more tomorrow and I will hopefully get around to replying to my emails.

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Jimmy Deenihan was in Canada for St. Patrick’s Day. While in Brampton, Ontario he met up with Bernard O’Connell and his wife, Dolores. Bernard sent us these photos.

Jimmy Deenihan and Bernard O’Connell

Jimmy presenting a Kerry jersey to the club.

Jimmy presenting a Con Houlihan DVD to Dolores O’Connell.

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