C O C: How did kick the can work?
T J: Kick the can was a – I believe someone threw the can and whoever called out the name, he had to stand there with the can and guard it and then everybody hid and he had to go looking for them. So if somebody – if he didn’t find somebody closer that were closer and they ran and kicked the can I guess he had to do it all over again. It was something like that, I’m not sure if I remember eh perfectly.
C O C: We used to do something called like called tip the can but we used to use a lamp post as the can and again it was you had to run in and if you tipped it while they were gone again, it started all over again or something.
T J: I’m sure somebody else mentioned it was the gambling game it was eh playing feck. where you throw h’appennies.
C O C: Oh, no I don’t know that.
T J: Well what it was was that you know first of all the eh – to determine who tossed first, meaning toss was to flip them in the air, there was a jack meaning a piece of a stick or a stone and you pitched and the nearest, the nearer one to that stone got there between the two.
C O C: And what were you throwing to the stone?
T J: Again, it would be I think it was eh I think H’appennies were still around. The farthings were gone in my time but the h’appennies were still there and it would be h’appennies that you pitched towards this eh stone or whatever and then the first one who – the nearest to that, what was called a jack em had a choice to pitch and how a winner was was that you had eh flick them in the ear and it had to come up two heads. If it came up two tails or two harps you eh lost, if it was a head and a harp or a head and tails then of course it was null and void. So then the other kids would, would bet again on his heads or his tails.
C O C: Right.
T J: Because when was the tails we were betting on – and of course that created some troubles throughout that. I’m sure there’s other people that have told you what the ways; when somebody dived in and grabbed the pot. If there was money on the ground and somebody was losing he would shout ‘all away’ and I think that was the word, which encouraged everybody to jump in, maybe grab what was there at their own, at their own risk obviously because at that time there was [word unintelligible] legs, everything else you know you just kick the thing and got a bit wild. But they were the basic things you know..
TJ: My name is Tom Jones, and I’ve given a story before. It’s an incident and I just wonder how many people would actually remember this. It had to be, let’s see, somewhere between ‘50s and ’61. We were playing in what was called the field, at the bottom of Spangle Hill, and this helicopter and it really looked like it was flying low and of course just the fact that there was something in the air at that time was really dramatic. It was flying really low and it circles Spangle Hill, and every kid chased the thing. Eventually, it landed. There is an ESB power station right there between Mallow Road and Dublin Hill. It’s right there. It’s and ESB substation. It landed there, and of course every other kid rushed out to see this thing and I remember looking, when I got there, I remember looking back and there’s an indentation in the field there called Tuckers Field it’s directly opposite the main offices of Harrington’s paint factory. I remember looking across at that and seeing multitudes of kids cascading down there almost like locusts. Everyone wanted to get out there and see this helicopter. I guess years later, it just reminded me of the fact. It’s almost like the helicopter was our Moses. And all these kids were just swarming down there, as if this helicopter, this Moses was going to take them to the Promised Land. I know we talked about it a number of years later as we were kids. It’s just a simple incident and I just wonder how many people actually remember it. Cause there had to be, cause there was thousands of kids. I mean they were just flowing down from Spangle Hill, to get across to see this helicopter. That was quite an event. That’s basically it. I thought of that the other day as I left here. I wonder how many people would actually remember that incident.
GoD: So, you’re saying it happened between ’58 and ’61.
TJ: Somewhere there. I would have had to be of course under the age of twelve. Somewhere between ’57 and ’62. I would have to have to place myself somewhere between ages eight and twelve at the time.
GoD: And you think other people of that age, would, of course, have to remember something like that. Wouldn’t they. So maybe it’s something we should start asking for. So, where would you give the exact location. If you were saying to them. Would you remember the helicopter where it landed?
TJ: Yeah, it landed right in the substation?
GoD: In the electricity sub station between the Old Manor Road and Dublin Hill.
TJ: Right. Actually, the road heads up to Murphy’s Rock. From the Old Manor Road, there’s a road that heads up to Murphy’s Rock where we used to play. And the Mallow Road. There’s an ESB sub station right there and that’s where the actual helicopter landed. I’ve no idea why or what. I’m sure it had some business.
GoD: Obviously.
TJ: To us, that would have pre the airport. Also hadn’t been opened.
GoD: Sure, there’d have been nothing in the sky before then.
TJ: Right. And that fact that it was a helicopter alone.
GoD: It would probably have been the first time people even saw it.
TJ: And this would have been pre-television.
CO’C: What kinda things did people find hard say now of your parents’ generation?
P D: Make ends meet. It’s only now I see it like, make ends meet like you know? I mean Jeez, the father's suit like could be goin’ into the pawn on a Monday like. And if there was somethin’ on, ‘twould be taken out on a Friday like, when the dole come in. And like in the end like, the father like or the pawn shop didn’t really know who ownded the suit like.I t went on so long and that’s was every family like, every family like. Which result in that, like, the suit could outlive the family because the suit was always kept it was a means of eh, of money like it was kept imperfect nick like you know? You know? That time like pawn shops were fascinatin’ places do you know eh, place was full o’ pawn shops like you know?
CO’C: Do you remember any particular ones?
P D: Well I remember the one down in Blarney Street next to the Blarney Street School an’ I remember eh, eh, there was one up on the end o’ Patrick’s Hill an’ I saw a watch inside in the window and at that time like you, you didn’t have choice of a dozen watches in your drawer like, a watch was a thing for life you know? So I saw this watch anyway and eh, Jesus the watch was fabulous, fabulous, I was thinking’ I could ha’ been a teenager that time. So I decided anyway I wanted the watch an’ so. Your man says eh, “I let ya pay by the week, so pay by the week an’ when you have it paid you’d get it out.” I dunno was it was it ten bob or somethin’ like that. In the end anyway, I couldn’t keep up the payments, I couldn’t keep up the payments for a ten bob watch like you know? So even now today like I’ve this watch now like, I’ve this watch now like for, I’ve it a good thirty-five years now. An’ I think, like in my mind like a watch is somethin’ for life. A watch is somethin’ you get an’ it’s somethin’ for life. I see people they change a watch every day now an’ that’s grand like but for me, a watch is somethin’ for life because like it was a possession I always wanted like you know what I mean? You know? So eh, eh, eh, it was all like, like, the majority o’ time ‘twas second-hand clothes like . Only chance like that when we, when we, we’d say once a year there was this scheme called the free boots and your mother would take you down an’ you, maybe down to Shandon Street or whatever an’ you’d get em, these free boots from the government like you know what I mean? And eh, they were supposed to last ya for the year then like you know? Otherwise, you’d be in rubber dollies in the middle o’ winter like you know?
CO’C: Yeah.
P D: Canvas shoes like an’ no matter what the weather was like, you know? An’ everyone, everyone goin’ to school was in a short pants. You know?
CO’C: What kinda things did your mother do say now to kinda stretch things a bit or to?
P D: Well, em, at Christmas she went pluckin’. Yeah, all the women in our area went pluckin’. You know? Because o’ size o’, like other than the father bein’ on the dole it ended up the mother bein’ the, was bringin’ home the money like. She went pluckin’ and then for the rest o’ the year she went cleanin’ people’s houses. She’d do anything, you know I mean it was like the mother hen like, lookin’ after the family like. Eh, so, like that was the bonus in eh, in eh, Christmas they’d go pluckin’, pluckin’ the chicken and turkey and eh, like one aunt, she moved, she was over there in Middle Parish and she moved to eh, Leamington Spa after and eh, she was a, she was a dinger at the pluckin' like. She could turnout so many turkeys or whatever like you know? ‘Cos if, and the turkey would be clean because if they, if they tore the turkey they have to sow it, they’d have a needle and thread like. So I remember goin’ down, eh, with the food, down to the the mother and at that time that could ha’ been a bottle o’ tea.
CO’C: Yeah.
P D: And a, a bottle o’ tea and eh, maybe a sandwich like I be go down, course she wouldn’t have to come back up then again. The turk, the place she used to pluck the turkeys was down in em, ‘cross from the Mercy Hospital ‘twas in that area. And eh, and goin’ in, and an’ all the women they had bibs on ‘em but they were all covered in feathers like you know? Whole place was feathers like you know? So that, she done things like that to make ends meet like. But she’d have done anything like you know? You know? Which, which they’d all have done like you know what I mean? You know?
P McC: And of course, we had the fishermen there then on the quay. I mean they used put their boats there and their nets. You know we had.
CO’C: And how many around would there have been?
PmcC; Well, they mostly the fishermen with families, they would go back the generations again, you know. The Flynns, they were mostly families even to this day now they fished down outside Blackrock. The Quilligans, they fish on Blackrock area, that’s their fishing rights now that’s going back generations.
CO’C: And the men that you remember being out here, where would they have lived?
PmcC: Oh they’d lived on Witherington’s Hill or Cobbidge’s Lane. They’d have lived on the lanes around and they actually used have their little boats there and the nets then would be thrown over the quay wall.
CO’C: Okay.
PmcC: You know even in my time. But they were families then again. You know like the butchers were families. ‘Twas all kept within families, the trade, well the fishermen wouldn’t be trades but the trades were and you couldn’t get into them. So if you were, if you had nothing you couldn’t kind of get a trade because ‘twas closed shop. You know.
P.H:
My mother, she was a very gentle woman. She never hit us. My father never hit us. She provided very well for us. We always had good dinners even then in the, say in the early sixties. I think she fancied herself as a cook, you know, and like we’d have cabbage of a Sunday, we’ll say with corned beef or something like that and then she’d make soup from the corned beef from what was left of the corned beef so you’d have that for eh before dinner during the week because when I was at the North Mon, we’d go home at half twelve, I think it was and you didn’t go back ‘till two so we had our dinner in the day time and then father would have at night when he came home, you know, so that’s the way we used to be, all the boys would have their dinners at one o’clock.
And em so, you know, there was, there was sort of set dinners for the week, you know, you’d have the meat, the mutton or the corned beef mainly, there was a very very little steak that time, on the Northside of Cork city, you know, people didn’t have money to buy it. And so you’d have mutton or corned beef and on Sunday and Monday, then we used to have bodice which you probably know, I think they call it spare ribs nowadays, you know, so of course they would be boiled and then you’d have tripe and drisheen, I think we used to have that on a Thursday and then of course Friday was fish. You know for the Catholic observance. So we had fish on a Friday, and then I forget Saturday you had chops, or something like that you know, so that’s the way it was and it didn’t vary an awful lot, there were no pizzas and no pastas, no nothing like that.
And then on Shandon Street, you, you see all the shopping was local so you have a, you’d the pork butcher, the beef butcher and Billy O’Callaghan, I think was the beef butcher, ah the mutton and the beef chops and then you had em Jerry Nolan; he’s still there. I used to go around with him. They had a shop there; a butcher shop and then you had a man further up about three doors from Gerry; I can’t think of his name and I think he used to sell pig meat, you know heads, crubeens things like that, tripe and drisheen and of course you had bakeries there. You had Creedon’s bakery; you had Donnelly’s which I saw this morning is still there and you had Ormonde and Aherne’s and em so all the shopping was done in Shandon Street.
T.D: You mentioned Peacock Lane there. Is that lane still there?
N.M: It is indeed and as a matter of fact, it’s amazing how many of the old lanes are still there right in this part of the city that I’m speaking about which is the Northside and specifically alright in Gerald Griffin Street which as I said commences above in, by the North Cathedral junction and goes down to the junction at O’Connell Street. But there is a myriad of lanes there as a matter of fact when they, the film Angela’s Ashes was being made alright, I mean like the filmmakers came up there to Peacock Lane and to surrounding lanes there, Patrick’s Arch and so forth to film because Limerick had been modernised if you like and where the writer of Angela’s Ashes was grown up sort of no longer existed so they came up here to Gerald Griffin Street and Peacock Lane and Patrick's Arch in particular. So I guess there’s a lot of those lanes still left.
H G: We, for entertainment, when I got older then we used to go down to the Ark long go. And that was our night’s entertainment and you, there was an Uptown Grill down in MacCurtain Street, that was very popular and you go in there and have something to eat first if you were lucky enough, you had a few bob.
L A: What age would that be then?
H G: Oh, Oh I was about seventeen that time, sixteen, seventeen and you went down then to the Ark and you danced the night away. You, we often went to Majorca but I was never on, you got the bus down in Parnell Place or down in Grand Parade, ‘twould take you down to the Majorca but you wouldn’t get home then ‘till all hours and my mother, she never knew I was down there ‘cause she would never approve that was rough like.
And always, [phrase unintelligible] there was a dancehall up by the Gaiety, up by the barracks, never go there ‘cause the soldiers were there. And you daren’t, we always thought soldiers were bad men, that’s in our, my time, now like and you weren’t allowed, I think I sneaked up there one time alright like [laugh] but that’s the way, do you know there was, we had no telly either, we had nothing. And then when we, father, I’d say we were the first in the road to get the, the telly and then were ‘twas, ‘twas up so high, you’d get a crick in your neck looking up at it [noise in background], [phrase unintelligible] and then ‘twas black and white.
And then, this thing came out a sheet of paper, turquoise and God help us, we were innocent too like, you could nearly see the colour, sure you couldn’t colour in it but you thought you did like. But they were definitely better times because people knew one another and people were all happy. Do you know like, ‘twas only across the road there now and they were, they were great times. The men always went to the pub on a Saturday night and me father had em, permanent tickets for the Savoy, that was a big thing now like, and I often went into him.
I often went in on a Saturday night with him, and I loved Doris Day. I can always remember her, Jesus I can’t remember the name of it now, Midnight Lace was it I think. And Freddy Bridgman would come up with the organ and I thought, I thought he lived down there, he’d come up and you’d say ‘God’ and all the, the songs would come up on the screen and you sang then, Freddy went away but I always, I was young at the time now , I just always thought that he lived underground, you know but they were, I have to say now they were, they were great people.
And I remember my mother had twins when she was forty-six and that was a big thing and then when they were christened, we’d a long stool in the house and everyone in Barrack View was brought in. You’d get no drink like ‘twas just a cup of tea but there must have been cakes at it or something, me mother would have made or something like but there were memories now, I would still hold very close to myself because there were, ah there’s people, most of them have passed on now but I would know their daughters now and nieces and nephews and have to say would often laugh off the good times where your one have it at today. I don’t think you would anyway.
E J: The Thirties. Now I was born in ’31 and we’ll say that was all through the thirties now. The war started in ’39 and things were very bad, we were very poor like, but we didn’t know it. I mean in relative to today now we were very poor but ya see everybody was the same, so you didn’t realise you were poor. ’Tis only if you -- by comparison, that you realise you’re poor. If everybody is the same it doesn’t make any difference ya see. But the war came then and shortages like I mean, the rationing and everything and I was only thinking there now last week something struck me. Em, I love, I’d love now a heel of bread, a crusty heel of a skull and put loads of butter on it. And I did that last week and I was there on me own and I had a grand crusty heel and I was -- and I just thought, I remember, going back now, I’m going back to the time of the war. We had only an ounce, two ounces of butter or something that’s all you’d get. And I loved butter and I hated margarine. Couldn’t oh, I couldn’t stick the taste of the margarine. My mother used to scrape the margarine on the bread the way that I wouldn’t get the taste of it but I could taste it like. And em, I remember one time she was so mad at me now giving out about the margarine she gave me me own two ounces of butter for to manage meself for the week. Ya see she cut a bit of butter and she gave it to me on the small plate and she said, ‘There now,’ she said. ‘Eat that now or you can, you can eat it all today but you’ll have nothing for the week.’ And I got the butter anyway and I was being very careful and next thing now like that I got a heel and I decided put it, what I had left on top of the heel. And I sat down and ate it and me mother totally told my father and all when he came in from work, ‘Never believe what she’s after doing. The only bit of butter she have left for the week she’s after eating it on a crust of bread.’ So that was like, but I enjoyed it and I loved it d’ya know now what I? Now I didn’t do it anymore because I found having margarine for the rest of the week wasn’t great like but I enjoyed it. But isn’t it funny how things would remind ya? Last week now that reminded me of -- you know?
COC: What kind of things would you play?
CC: Em there was a stream there and we used to make a dam and then we’d paddle in the stream and so you couldn’t go beyond the stream – the stream that’s right – you couldn’t go beyond the stream because that was the farmer’s fields and awh if he caught you, you’d be in trouble. But on – in Summer nights then they used to play, what was it called? Housey house then, it’s Bingo now. They’d all sit down on the field and the mam would call out the numbers and – I think it was a penny to play or something like that you know. And then there was em – what was that stall with Rasa [Raspberry Cordial], a penny a glass and Peggy’s legs and all that like, you know. So it was lovely, you really think the summers were good then that it was always sunny. [Laughter] And em, ere you know until about half-past nine then all the children would move off and go to bed like you know.
But I was just thinking there now that did anyone talk about the SAO? The School Attendance Officer. Nobody spoke about him, did they? And eh he was a Mr Stanton and he used to come up the road and I never saw him on the bike, he’d walk with the bike you know? And em, if you were away from school he’d call to the house to know were you away from school and I was away from school. One day my mother asked me to stay home, she probably wasn’t feeling very well and em so she sent me down Shandon Street for em messages and I met Mr Stanton and he said to me eh ‘Why aren’t you in school today?’ So I said ‘My mother is sick’. So anyway I came back home anyway and my mother said ‘Mr. Stanton called’. So I said ‘Oh did he?’. And she said ‘I told him you were sick in bed’. [Laughter]