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: Harp and Lion Page 2 of 5

River Works

By

On September 8, 2021

In History, Listowel

Photo; Éamon ÓMurchú

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River Feale Development

Barbara Walsh has been keeping an eye on the massive job underway on the River Feale behind Convent Street.

The fine weather has meant that work is proceeding without delay with the crew working long hours and the huge logistic operation moving smoothly.

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My Fact of the Day

In January 1964, Nelson Mandela, leader of the African National Congress was jailed for life for sabotage and plotting to overthrow the South African Government. (Source; Irish Examiner)

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A Highly Respected Listowel born Priest

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXIV, Issue 50, 9 April 1897, Page 15

THE LATE REV. FATHER O’CONNOR.
(From our Christchurch correspondent.)
Very great and widespread regret is felt at the demise of the Rev. Father Daniel O’Connor, who died somewhat unexpectedly at his late residence at Rangiora at 4 a.m. on Wednesday, 31st ult. The rev gentleman, who was parish priest of Rangiora, had not been in robust health for some time. Yet no serious results of his indisposition were anticipated until he visited Wellington in the early part of the year in order to consult Dr. Cahill, who informed Father O’Connor that his malady was a hopeless consumption.

In accordance with the doctor’s advice Father O’Connor abandoned his projected visit to Napier and returned home. He became rapidly worse and succumbed to the desease.

He was going about on Tuesday last and apparently fairly well. On the night of the same day he retired at eight o’clock but became restless and unable to sleep. Father Tubman, Miss Kellier and the Rev. Mother and the Sisters of St. Joseph were with him to the end.

Father O’Connor, who was approaching forty years of age, was born in l858 at Listowel, County Kerry, Ireland. He studied at St. John’s College in Waterford, and was ordained priest on the 18th of June, 1882. Immediately after his ordination he came to Christchurch, under Archbishop Redwood, who appointed him to Greyniouth. Thence he came to Port Lyttleton, where he remained several years. For the administration of that parish he received warm praise from Archbishop Redwood.

Ten years ago Father O’Connor was appointed parish priest of Rangiora, where he has done most excellent work. He was always most generous in supplementing from his own pocket the funds for the maintenance of the schools, and in every way sought to promote the cause of education. The whole parish is left absolutely free of debt.

During his residence in the Rangiora and Kaiapoi districts he has endeared himself to all classes of people. His house and all that it contained was open to every one. As an instance of the warm affection of his people for him, some of the ladies of the parish waited upon him a few days before his death in order to present him with a purse of sovereigns wherewith to meet the extra expenses of his illness. This thoughtful action made a deep impression upon the dying priest, and he was most anxious to acknowledge the gift through the newspapers. This he did not live to do.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume 04, Issue 6, 4 June 1897, Page 16

The Rangiora Standard has the following. The following was received by a private letter at St. John’s Roman Catholic Church, Ireland, when a cable message was received there of the death of the Very Rev. Father O’Connor, at Rangiora, N.Z., this church presented a most mournful appearance on the 3rd of April, when Requiem Mass was celebrated, and thirty-five priests with their bishop, were present. Also at Listowel, a Requiem Mass was held at the church in which the late lamented priest said his first mass. This indeed was the most impressive, as all the relatives of the deceased priest were present. 

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Veno’s Soothes your Cough in Seconds

Irish Examiner Archive

Speed seems to have been the USP of this old cough medicine. In the days when T.B. was rife across the land, anyone coughing was looked on with suspicion. Nowadays with Covid among us, we dont like to have anyone cough near us either.

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Beautiful Cong, Co. Mayo

Photos; Éamon ÓMurchú

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Move Completed

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Church St. Girls in 1958, Races 2019, a Funny story about the Harp and Lion and Stack’s Arcade is repainted

By

On September 19, 2019

In Uncategorized

Well known Facade remodelled

Stacks Arcade was repainted recently. It looks absolutely smashing, modern and stylish.


Below is McKenna’s big window during race week 2019.

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Anthem of the ICA

This song used to be sung at all ICA gatherings. I wonder if it still is.

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Snapping the Fashion at Races 2019

Lorraine and her mother model Lorraine’s beautiful hats.

The lady on the far left, Mary Kelliher was the winner on Ladies Day.



I dont know all the names in these photos but I’m sure you’ll recognise the local ladies



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Another gem from Eileen Sheridan


It is summer 1958 and these are the girls

Front row Ann Gleeson

Mary Keane,  Noreen Scanlon, Noreen McSweeney, Geraldine Flaherty

Angela Breen, Eileen Guerin, ? ,Kathleen Kenny

Maisie McSweeney, Eileen Scanlon

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Some Anecdotes from Vincent Carmody










Mary,   yournice study of the Harp and Lion and of Martin of the Chute family painters dynasty reminded me of a number of stories, the first, recalled to me by John B himself.

The feature has three phrases,

Latin: Spes Mea In Deo, My Hope is in God

French: Maison De Ville,   Town House

Erin Go Bragh:  Ireland Forever.

One time, when he was quite young, he said, a number of American tourists had walked up Church Street, they were admiring McAuliffes plaster work, this particular day they stood outside the Keane families front door, looking across the road at the Harp and Lion. As they tried to decipher the various languages on the plaster work, the young John B. came out his own front door, one of the Americans sensing that the young man would have the inside information as to the meaning of the phrases, said, hey son, can you explain the meaning of the language on that piece across the road. Of course, the young Keane, sensing that a dollar tip might be in the offering, stood out on the pavement in front of the visitors and with typical confidence, said,

The Latin translation is, I am a Lion,

The Franch means, I have eaten Rhubarb, 

And with a great flourish he said, Erin Go Bragh means, don’t stand under me. 

John B. told me that the visitors gave him a standing ovation and not one but two dollars.

The Chute family have been Listowel painters and sign writers  since the 1800’s,

Bryan McMahon once recalled, he was traveling in the west of Ireland one time, and stayed for a day in the town of Gort, as he went around the town he came across a painter on a trestle, painting a house front, Bryan stood, watching the tradesman, after a while the painter looked down, recognising the Listowel man, he shouted down, Master McMahon, am I as good as the Chutes of Listowel. 

Our Listowel master craftsmen, Pat McAuliffe, Paddy Whelan (The Cement God, Galvin’s old home at the corner of The Square and Bridge Road is a great example of his work) and the Chutes are known nationally.   

             

Classy’s Bus, Repurposing in 2015 and Main Street Listowel in Sept 2019

By

On September 12, 2019

In Uncategorized

Ta Dah! Isn’t it gorgeous ?













Classy’s Bus



On the Friday of Raceweek, Ladies Day there is a complimentary bus service from the Square to The Island. It is customary for ladies who are entering the Best Dressed Lady Competition to wear footwear that is totally unsuitable for walking to the course or for walking any distance anywhere. So the directors of Listowel Races lay on a shuttle bus for the afternoon.

In homage to this, Lynch’s coffee shop set up this window display.

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Upcycle recycle in 2015


Today’s Races story is from Listowel Tidy Towns alternative fashion event in 2015. 

This is how I told the story on my blog in September 2015

This fashionista, Anne Leneghan from Cork is looking fabulous in green. Anne and I are old friends and I took the below photos of her on the racecourse before the event.

Anne was wearing a vintage dress in a beautiful green brocade. She had accessorized it with vintage gloves and handbag, both worn originally by Anne’s mother. But the piece de resistance was Anne’s hat which was made for her by her friend, milliner, Maria Stack. The base is a piece cut from the dress when the girls decided to shorten it. The next bit was made from an old handbag and the “feathers” are not feathers at all but some things they sourced from an artificial flower display. Anne’s beautiful vintage earrings are connemara marble and marcasite.

Maria Stack, whose family were so successful at this event in 2014 had suffered a family bereavement. So Maria was here on her own to support her friend, Anne. Maria is always beautifully turned out and a great supporter of Ladies Day and Vintage Fashion Day.


Anne is on stage describing her up cycling and restyling story to Orlagh Winters.

The judges loved her too but she didn’t win. She’ll be back again this year with another fetching outfit and another story.

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Lower William Street and The Small Square





Kingfisher, A jockey fatality, a Fancy Dress Parade and the Harp and Lion is finished

By

On September 11, 2019

In Uncategorized

Takes more Than a Sign to stop Him

Photo: Chris Grayson

This lad is not called a Kingfisher for nothing.

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A sobering thought from John O’Flahery’s great book about Listowel Races

First jockey to be killed in Listowel. The year was 1896.

The man in question was a 21 year old jockey from Fedamore, named Michael Prendergast who was tragically killed during the last race on the second day when his mount “Castlequarter”, crashed into a corner post after jumping the last fence. 

The accident happened when Prendergast was trying to drive Castlequarter inside the eventual winner, Tantalus, as they approached the final corner post. As they neared the post, Castlequarter swerved to the right and would have gone inside the post if Prendergast had not snatched him up. This momentaery delay cost him his life, for, when he straightened his horse, he found that the gap had almost been closed by Tantalus and his rider. 

Courageously, Prendergast tried to squeeze through the tiny space, but, instead, he only succeeded in driving the horse on to the post with shattering force. He was propelled from the saddle and struck the ground violently with his head, knocking him unconscious. 

He was removed to Feale View Hotel, the home of the Hon. Secretary, Michael O’Connor, with blood streaming from his ears. Despite being attended to by a number of doctors, he died without regaining consciousness, at 7.00p.m. on Friday August 29. His young wife, whom he had married only a few months before, was at his bedside. 

The terrible accident, which prematurely ended a very promising career, was all the more pathetic, because, up to then, Prendergast had been enjoying an outstanding meeting, during which he had notched up three winners, including the two feature races. 


Perhaps the accident might not have happened at all had the stewards not disqualified the winner of the first race that day, Antelope, because he had come inside one of the posts.  In trying to avoid the same fate, Prendergast earned the unenviable distinction of being the first jockey to be killed at Listowel. Incidentally, his mount, Castlequarter broke his neck in a fall at Croom the following year.

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Down Memory Lane


Eileen Sheridan sent us this good one.

Front row.

Babe Joe Wilmot,Tadgh Brennan, Maisie McSweeney

Back row

Maureen Horgan Ethel Ryan

At the side Jerry Flaherty

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The Sign is done. The Harp strings are painted and while he had the ladder up,

 Martin gave the Lion’s face a cat’s lick. Passing pigeons are a menace.


Harp and Lion in Sept 2019, Raceweek Memories nd First Storytelling Festival

By

On September 10, 2019

In Uncategorized

Harp and Lion, Listowel’s Most Beautiful Shopfront


The next stage in the transformation is the sign painting. Martin Chute, Mr. Signs, is doing a magnificent job.


I took this photo on Sept 5 2019 when there was still some work to be done.

While I was photographing Martin, Liz MacAuliffe came by and stopped to admire the work.

I think both their ancestors would be happy with how it looks today.






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Raceweek Memories



by Vincent Carmody


Apart from the fine fresh air and friendship that you will have in abundance at the races, the only other thing free for the week is the free draw each day, entry forms to be found on the day’s race card.

Race card kiosks are located in several areas of the enclosure.

In my previous lookback, I mentioned Paul Kennelly of Woodford.  He used to be assisted in putting up the decorations by several of his sons. One by one over time, they emigrated to seek their fortunes in England. Like many before them, they worked hard and prospered. Murt, having done well, decided to become a racehorse owner. Among the horses that he owned was Bregawn. In 1983 Murt achieved what most owners and trainers would only dream of, by winning the Gold Cup in Cheltenham. It could not happen to a nicer man and family.

The weekend prior to the races would see an influx of returning emigrants arriving at the Railway Station. The Races was the one time of the year where anyone away would make an big effort to return back to town and meet up with old friends. 

  

Tuesday used be the first day of the three day meeting. Many lads, like myself, would be down early outside the Race Company Office in the Square; our mission, to collect race cards for the day. This was another money making project for us young fellows. Each card would be sold for one old shilling and we would take three old pence for each one sold. On getting the cards, a bee line would then be made to the Railway Station, where each race day morning at least four packed “specials” would arrive.  It used be like London’s Euston station. We used work in teams of three, with one always ready to cycle down to the Square to get fresh supplies. 

Here we were also introduced for the first time to the Dublin fruit and sweet sellers. We used to call them the Molly Malones. Afterwards we got used to their cry, “apples, pears and ripe bananas!”. 

Any cards we had left after the railway station would be sold around the streets. 

One year I decided to go into business on my own, running a bicycle park. A bike would have been the most common form of transport for a lot of country men in the mid 1950s. Each day of the races from mid-morning droves of country men from the northern end of the county would come down the Ballylongford Road to the town. By taking up a position on top of the bridge I could easily canvas likely contenders who would have dismounted and walked up the far side and who wanted their bike parked safely for the day. Having secured a customer, I would take him down to our yard, give him a ticket, get paid and then rush back up to the bridge again. By early afternoon customers would have dried up so it was then off over to The Island. 

Our racedays were spent like most others out in the field opposite the stand. Not like today, where the field is used as a carpark, it was in those days similar to the opposite enclosure, albeit without a stand.  It had  bookies, bars, Tote and every other facility, even including swinging boats. Evening time offered the magic of the market, and for the week the cinemas would run a second film showing. 

Back to the bicycle park. The less said about the bicycle park the better. Having got my sister to help out in the early part of the evening, I then had to take up duty. On that particular night it was after five in the morning before the last bike was claimed. My mother and father said they had no sleep with all the comings and goings, so that finished that idea.

A friend, Dr. Philip O Carroll, now domiciled in Newport Beach in California, reminded me of Bryan McMahon’s classic Listowel ballad, ‘Lovely Listowel’ first printed by Bob Cuthbertson and sold on an original penny ballad sheet. I have a copy and I would like to share it with all of those Listowel people around the world who could not join us this year.

Oh, Puck may be famous and Galway be grand,

And the praise of Tramore echo down through the land,

But I’ll sing you a ballad and beauty extol,

As I found it long ‘ go in the Town of Listowel.

I’ve been to Bundoran, I’ve rambled to Bray,

I’ve footed to Bantry with it’s beautiful bay,

But I’d barter their charms, I would, pon my soul,

For the week of the Races in Lovely Listowel.

There were Bookies and Bagmen and Bankers and all,

Biddy Mulligan was there with a green-coloured shawl,

And a cute little boy pitching pence in a bowl,

Took me down for a crown in the Town of Listowel.

The Hawkers were kissing and bleeding as well,

We had Hoop-La and Loop-La and the ‘oul Bagatelle,

And silver-tongued gents sure I’d bet they’d cajole,

A pound from a miser in the Town of Listowel.

Beyond on the course there was silk flashing past, 

The unfortunate nag that I backed he was last,

When he ran the wrong way sure I lost my control,

And I prayed for the trainer and Lovely Listowel.

Oh night time, how are you-the night sure ’twas day,

And the stars in the sky sure they looked down in dismay,

And they sez to the moon then in accents so droll,

‘You’re done, for the sun shines to-night in Listowel’

And you’d travel the land to see maidens so rare,

With buckles and pearls and grace I declare,

In my troubles and toils there is one can console,

she’s a wife, be me life, from the Town of Listowel.

My rhyming is over, God bless those who heard,

For I’ll take to the roads and go off like a bird,

And before I depart well you all must pay toll,

So three cheers for the Races and Lovely Listowel.

   

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Inaurgural International Storytelling Festival




This is some of the line up of storytellers for a marathon storytelling session in Kerry Writers’ Centre on Sept 7 2019. Missing from the picture are local storyteller Bryan Murphy and balladeer, Mickey McConnell.        

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