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

Tag: Jimmy Hickey Page 1 of 7

Dandy Lodge, the early days

Listowel Castle in Spring 2023


The Confraternity

I posted this picture of Listowel men on a confraternity retreat a while ago. I had hoped to spark some memories of that all male institution but I haven’t got very far. The Confraternity was essentially a prayer group to keep men on the straight and narrow. It met for “meetings’ once a month. These were held in the church and consisted of prayers and sermons. Once a year they all headed off to Limerick for a retreat.

Locally some sceptics regarded them as “Holy Joes” A while ago I got this missive from an unnamed local man;

Regarding the Confraternity and the Sodality; these were gone or on the way out when I was a nipper. I do remember a crude put-down that was used in those days against  someone that was, in the common perception, ‘ró-mhór leis an gcléir,’ and involved in every religious event and occasion- this put-down was as follows: ‘Jaysus, that fellow is stuck in everything! He’d be in the Children of Mary as well, if they could find a knickers big enough for him.


Looking Forward to St. Patrick’s Day

Some stalwarts of St. Patrick’s Day parades in the past.

Charlie Nolan
John Lynch
Dancing teachers, John Stack and Jimmy Hickey


Dandy Lodge Story Continued

This is a photo in the National Museum of Bridge Road, Listowel in 1903. You can see the Dandy Lodge on the left.

There it stood until 1997 when it was moved brick by brick into Childers’ Park to be looked after by Listowel Pitch and Putt Club.

You can see from the press release that Adare Co. Limerick had an interest in purchasing the lodge. We have to thank the foresight of Listowel Pitch and Putt Club members who made sure it remained in Listowel.

The late Tom O’Halloran took these photos of the relocation.

The following pictures were taken at the opening.

A presentation to Tom and Eileen OHalloran

Joe Dillon, Jerry Brick and Cathal Fitzgerald

Bill Walsh, Paul O’Dowd, Jerry Maher, Dr. Corridan and Joseph Dillon, previous owner of The Dandy Lodge


Listowel, San Diego, Prague

Upper William Street, January 2023


It Started with a Poem

Richard Moriarty of San Diego is a blog follower. His friend, Judy Alexander sometimes helps him by typing the occasional poem to send to us here.

She sent me this last week

On the occasion of her 100th birthday, Friday, January 23, 2023, dedicated to Eileen Moriarty,

 born in Ballydonogue and living now in Dublin

( The birthday was on Friday Jan 20th. but a typo in the first email led me astray and then it took a bit longer for the ladies to get the tributes together and for Dave O’Sullivan to help me convert the pdf image they sent to one I could use here. Apologies Eileen, birthday girl, and all her family for missing the big day)




























By Richard G. Moriarty of

Ballydonohue  Listowell

and San Diego California


I wrote back to ask if Richard had a photo or a story or something to give us a better picture of his mother. It is not everyday someone reaches this big milestone birthday.

Richard hasn’t mastered technology at all and Judy and his wife, Molly, are not too adept at it either but they put a lot of effort into sending us the following.


I am Molly Moriarty, married to Richard, son of Eileen Moriarty.  I am very glad to be able to wish my mother-in-law a happy 100th year birthday.  I met Richard and Eileen in 1980 when visiting Ireland and having just met Richard was invited to their home for a Sunday dinner.  I was immediately welcomed and the dinner was delicious.  After all these years I have realized how important family is to Eileen.  She is very interested in all things around her and always seems to know all the news.  I soon learned that if I wanted to know what was going on, just have a seat, and soon I would be better informed than watching the news.  She always looked far younger than she really is and is a beautiful lady.  Her faith has always buoyed her up as she has had more than her share of troubles.  I feel I could not say the same, and I truly respect her courage and strength and think of her as a role model.   There is so much in 100 years of telling that only a book could do her justice.  With that in mind, I feel proud to know her and, again,  wish her a happy 100th birthday.

Lovingly, Molly



One of my treasured memories of my Mom I guess would be when I was about seven years of age growing up in LISSELTON.   A good- natured local man entrusted me with a fullsize RALEIGH BICYCLE! Him, not knowing I wasn’t qualified to operate such an advanced piece of equipment and I wasn’t going to make him any the wiser. I was doing great on the straightway but when I came to Lyre Cross the stopping power just wasn’t there. With Johnny Cash it was the mud the blood and the beer, but with me it was the mud the blood the gravel and the Furze bushes. Now what to do?  My wails became more pronounced with each trickle of blood oozing from the scalp and even more so at the sight of the two gravel embedded kneecaps. But that wasn’t the worst of it, oh no, not even the road rash to the KEESTER. The worst would be the Mom. As I laid there in that stream that autumn evening, I could hear her, “Why are you doing this to me, who do you think you are, haven’t I enough to contend with besides you coming in here with this?”  But, not “Oh my God what happened to you (son)?” Between sobs and sniffles hiccups and heaves, “Mom, I was helpin’ Mrs. Foley fill her water barrels over at the river, and I fell off the donkey cart onto the BIG stones (YERRI)!”  “Sure. You’re always tryin’ to help people.”  Growing up in rural Ireland in the ‘60’s, where each household had eight or nine children, you had to think fast, REAL fast.  For the next two weeks the Mom was my primary doctor, night nurse, neurologist, and just like all moms, whatever roles needed to be filled.  The upshot of it all I made a LHOUBAWN of the ROTHAR but for two whole weeks I got loads of TLC and lots of TCP. Thank heaven for moms.

JANUARY 20, 2023



Richard G. Moriarty


As a friend of the family, I’ve heard many fond reminisces about Eileen Moriarty, although I never met
her. She is a true woman of her times, a farmer’s wife and mother of eight children. She could (and did)
awaken in the middle of the night to help birth a calf, and still manage to put a hot breakfast on the
table for her husband and children, pack their lunches, and see them off to the fields and school before
she headed out to do laundry, tend her veggie patch and all the other chores women of her time did
that made them super heroes to their families. Then it was back to the kitchen to prepare another
home-cooked meal. I’m sure her prayer was to manage a full night’s sleep without being called out to
help another farm animal.
Eileen is a woman of faith which, along with her stoic nature, has seen her through the tragedies that
are a part of living. She has always been a beautiful woman, taking pride in her appearance and her
representation of her family. There must be a portrait in the attic, growing old instead of her. This week
she received congratulations from President Higgins for reaching one hundred years of age. Well
deserved congratulations! Eileen lives at home now in Dublin with her daughter Margaret. God bless
them both, and happy birthday to Eileen!

Greetings from Judy Alexander of San
Diego, CA USA


The Real Child of Prague Statue

Kathleen Griffin sent these to us.

Infant of Prague
Infant of Prague statue

The Infant of Prague statue is located in the Church of Our Lady of Victories of the Discalced Carmelites, in Malá Strana, Prague, Czech Republic (Czechia).  The statue is only about 19” tall and has an extensive wardrobe of garments!  Photographed by Kathleen Griffin on 10th Sept., 2019.

The icon we are familiar with here bears very little resemblance to the real thing. It is a tradition in some countries to dress statues in actual clothes. This seems to be what happens here.

Thank you, Kathleen, for those images of The Infant of Prague in Prague. The little statue surely is magnificent.


Listowel, The Celtic Art Capital of Ireland

We pride ourselves here on being the literary first town in Ireland. The more I look into Celtic Art in town the more I am convinced that Listowel is at the forefront of this art form as well.

This magnificent piece is in Listowel Credit Union office . It is the work of the late Paddy Fitzgibbon.

Dave O’Sullivan found the relevant article in The Kerryman of May 28 2008.

I’ve enlarged the text a bit. I hope you can read it. There is nothing that I know of anywhere in the world to match this for artistry. The influence of the Book of Kells is obvious.

There is another Fitzgibbon piece in Scoil Realta na Maidine. I’ll bring you that tomorrow.


Jimmy Hickey

I love to run into my friend, Jimmy Hickey, when I am in town. I met him last week at the St. Vincent de Paul Day Centre where he was collecting meals to deliver to people in North Kerry. Jimmy told me that people get a delicious meal from this Meals on Wheels service and he is only too happy to help with the delivery.

Jimmy told me that he had lost a friend over the Christmas holidays.

Poet, Anne Hartigan and Jimmy have been good friends since they first met at Listowel Writers’ Week in 1996.

Jimmy gave a talk on the history of Irish dancing. He had some of his dancers on hand to demonstrate the steps. Jimmy invited the audience to dance with the local dancers. Jimmy was dancing with the poet, Anne Drysdale, who enjoyed herself so much she wrote a poem about it. Another poet present was Anne Hartigan. She admired Jimmy’s dancing and proposed that he compose a dance to which she would write a poem.

The dance and the poem were duly composed and Jimmy and Anne practiced their performance in Ballygrennan, with Anne reciting and Jimmy dancing on an old half door.

“My feet were the music to her poetry.”

Later that year the Kerryman’s Association in Dublin were organizing a big £100 a ticket fundraiser. They asked Jimmy and Anne to perform their unique dance to poetry.
There were 1,000 people in attendance and Dan Collins was the M.C.

The audience were spellbound by the rhythmic taps of the dancer to the cadence of Anne Hartigan’s poems, What Way the Wind Blows which Jimmy choreographed in jig time and Little Lord of Death which he danced in reel time.

Jimmy wrote out the steps in the old Gaelic notation with seimhiús and síne fadas. 

This unique performance was greatly appreciated by the audience.

As far as Jimmy knows this has never been done before or since.

Jimmy and Anne remained friends. When she passed away on December 29 2022, her family informed Jimmy and he flew to Dublin for her funeral.

Thus closed an extraordinary chapter in Jimmy’s very colourful life.

May Anne le Marquand Hartigan rest in peace.


Dancing, Acting and Holidays

Closing date for applications has passed…Sorry!


Passing on the Torch

Jimmy Hickey is a dancing teacher in a direct line from the old masters. Here is a paragraph from an article by Edaein O’Connell in last week’s Irish Independent. The Kelliher referred to is Jonathan Kelliher of Siamsa Tire.

Jonathan is videoing Jimmy dancing the steps and so preserving them for the next generation.

Here is a link to part two of the recent video about the dancing tradition in North Kerry.

Munnix dance tradition


The Crown

Are you watching the latest series of The Crown on Netflix?

Here is our own local royal family at the premiere in London last week.

This photo of Dominic West and his wife, Catherine Fitzgerald, and their family was shared online by Glin Community News.

Dominic plays Prince Charles in The Crown. I think he has caught him well, his mannerisms and irascibility but West is far more handsome.


Dates for the Diary

Full details of these talk on Kerry Libraries website


Laethanta Saoire

Happy childhood days gone but not forgotten…

What’s in a Number

An essay by Charles McCarthy shared on Facebook by Glin Historical Society

What’s in a number? 

A lot actually, especially if that number is forever associated with childhood journeys.

ZIU 40 was the registration of my father’s car, or to be more precise to all of you auto fanatics out there a, 2 door, red, 1971 Ford Escort Mark I.

A little snug for a family of five with mam and dad up front.

Installation of the roof rack meant that the holidays were eminent and bootcases (Grappling with Pronunciations) had to be dusted down.

Not everyone had a full grasp of the English vocabulary but my mother was fluent in the many tongues of her young.

Destination was Ballybunion circa 1981 which meant passing through the bustling towns of Abbeyfeale, Listowel and some small villages with names we pronounced in a deep voice such as “Duagh”.

I would be consigned to the parcel shelf, transforming me into a small missile, primed, should the car come to a sudden stop.

We would all slowly bake if the sun was high, and no one really complained due to the possibility of we having to stop and thus hours being added to an already arduous journey.

I would have no choice but to stare at the gradual build-up of frustrated drivers faces, due to my father’s estimation of an acceptable speed and the cars inability to pass 45mph fully loaded.

What should have been a relatively short trip would seem an eternity. A garage in Listowel with the outline of a VW beetle painted on its side wall meant we were getting close to journeys end.

The stretch of road between Listowel and Ballybunion is long and relatively straight, with sudden dips in the road that reacted wonderfully with the leaf springs of an ageing car.

Sudden dips and up we would go with familiar tickles in the tummy, made all the more pronounced if we were getting hungry and the limited supplies had been exhausted.

Faster Dad! faster came the loud exclamations to my father’s ever growing frustration.

No one ever thought of opening a window, instead I believe it was my parents way of keeping us quiet, by way of partially knocking us unconscious from sheer heat exhaustion.

One damp face cloth was used on the many faces and we never thought to question such rationing, though that too would dry out over time within the hostile environment.

Complaining meant stopping which meant more time added,  which was a no, no.

Was it just beyond one hill crest, or two?, finally the sight of the sea side resort would appear like a majestic vista, mobile home roof tops glistening in the sun.

The slow procession of cars through the main street, each car loaded with little sea urchins such as ourselves in awe of the many sights.

A cacophony of sights, sounds and smells, salty sea air, chip shops, perry winkles, bumper cars, slots machines, and the latest block buster “ Raiders of the lost Ark” advertised at the local cinema.

We were finally there, a journey and destination that will forever be engrained in my memory.

 What’s in a number indeed.


A Book, a Dancer and the Greenway

The Curragh ; Éamon OMurchú


Jimmy Hickey ‘s Big Birthday

His friends in Presentation Primary School helped their dancing teacher celebrate a big birthday lately.

They shared the pictures on Facebook.


A Poem about Ballinruddery

From North Kerry Landscape


Point to Point

I love this book. It’s the third in Healyracing’s horse racing books and, in my humble opinion, the best.

If you love horses; if you love history; if you love photographs; if you love stories, if you love people, they are all here in Point to Point.

Many p to p races are held in gorgeous settings, a photographer’s dream.

It’s not all glamour. Many big day winners at Cheltenham or Fairyhouse started off in muddy fields in rural Ireland.

There is the usual sprinkling of dramatic dismounts.

I love this book and I’ll be dipping into it for a while yet. You dont have to know anything about horses or racing to enjoy this one. It will be a best seller.


The Greenway

I went to investigate where the greenway enters the park. Here are a few photos to give you an idea. This section is not finished yet.


A Miscellany

At Bishopstown Scout hut


What Lies Ahead?

My daughter Clíona spotted this sign in Cahirdown on her way home to Listowel for the weekend.

I took the photo and appealed for captions.

Catherine Moylan won with the one I’ve chosen as the heading.

She was also a close second with

Ground control, major wrong!

Geraldine O’Connor was also in the running with Fake News

I like Breda OSullivan Ahern’s “No true road but a destination.”

This sign on the approach road from Tarbert is sure to raise a smile in the midst of roadwork disruption.


Presentation Girls Reunion

On the evening of their reunion the convent girls from the sixties remembered their previous reunion. There was talk and remembrance of the ladies who had passed away since then.


We’re a Sound Town

The radio station Today Fm has awarded Listowel the accolade of September’s Sound Town. Cora O’Brien of Listowel Community and Business Alliance convinced the judges that Listowel was one of the best towns in Ireland to live in. We’re Sound Out!


One Brave Lady

Get up, dress up and show up could be the motto of the lady on the right of these photos. She is Mary O’Halloran and she has Motor Neurone Disease. She is living with it and trying to do all the things she enjoyed before. Her lovely voice has gone but she retains her enviable sense of style. She is a regular at Listowel Races and she came back in style this year, earning herself a place on the stage as a finalist in the Ladies Day fashion competition.

My friends, Peggy O’Shea from Firies and Bridget O’Connor from Ballyduff joined me to lose some money and spot some style on Friday Sept. 23 2022.

My great friend, Jimmy was joined by his friend Ted for the day out.

Lilly and her dad Simon were enjoying the racing.


I wonder what John B. is so certain of in this lesser known poem I found in a penguin anthology of Irish verse.


A Fact

Carnivorous animals will not eat another animal that has been hit by a bolt of lightening.


Page 1 of 7

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén