Frank Corcoran looks back on Bloody Sunday

**Working on a small local paper brings you into contact with a great variety of people. One of the most pleasant individuals I had the pleasure of working with was the late J. F. (Frank) Corcoran of Grotto Place in Booterstown. He wrote a series of local history articles for Southside in the late 1980’s and also supplied us with some of his own photographs. We spoke often on the phone but I regret that we never met. He often asked me to visit and on each occasion told me that he had a bottle of whiskey waiting to be opened when I arrived. I only discovered after his death that he didn’t drink (and I don’t drink spirits).

Bloody Sunday (1919)**

The year 1919 was a difficult one for us young people as we were ordered by British Law to remain indoors from 8pm every evening - it was known as “Curfew Hour.”

After finishing the day’s work in Dame Street, I decided to spend an hour or two as a member of St. Theresa’s Total Abstinence Club in Clarendon Street - my workmate Tommy Hughes was a member and he had me elected.

I was keen on billiards and other amusements which the Club provided. Club rules were to take a pledge against alcoholic drink, which I did in the presence of that famous priest, Rev. Fr. Albert, and to join the Clarendon Church Sodality which met monthly on Sunday mornings for 9am Mass.

This meant a cycle run of four miles from Home. I did this regularly until on one occasion my Sodality Prefect sent me word not to attend my usual 9am Mass.

This message I did not understand until some same later. That Sunday was known as “Bloody Sunday” when a number of British Military Officers were shot dead in various houses in Mount Street and Baggot Street. They were terms “British Spies” and were executed by the I.R.A. Luckily for me I was not cycling my way through Mount Street on my way to Mass - I might have run into serious trouble.

That same Sunday afternoon the Black and Tans opened fire on the people in Croke Park as an act of revenge. Amongst the many casualties was a player on the Tipperary team named Hogan - he was shot dead on the playing field. Hence the name “The Hogan Stand” at Croke Park.

The following evening I paid my usual evening visit to St. Theresa’s Club and enjoyed the company of the late Noel Purcell, who was a regular Billiard player. Incidentally, I still remember the words spoken by Noel, when as an amateur actor he took part in the Pantomime “Cinderella” at St. Theresa’s Hall. At the final curtain he asked the players to “spread out and make a big Band!”

I little suspected that Noel, as a professional actor, was to become a warm favourite with Dublin audiences. I met Noel many times in later years. Meeting him on one occasion at the Grand National at Aintree, Liverpool, I said to him “Spread out and make a big Band!” He smiled and congratulated me on my memory.

On Monday, the day following Bloody Sunday, I had a strange experience. Leaving work at Mason’s, Dame Sreet, at 6pm I cycled to St. Theresa’s Club as usual to enjoy my game of Billiards. I allowed myself about 20 minutes to cycle home before Curfew Hour. Leaving the club about 7.30pm I arrived at Mount Street Canal Bridge only to find that the Military would let no-one pass. All the Grand Canal bridges were guarded and no-one was allowed to pass out of the city.

I remember that even the trams were emptied of passengers at this point and allowed to proceed only with the Driver and Conductor to the Blackrock Tram Depot.

I tried to get back to a Mrs. Gilbert who lived over Mason’s premises in Dame Street but, alas, at the corner of Clare Street I could go no further - I was hemmed in between Merrion Square and Mount Street Bridge.

I knocked at a door in Mount Street and a very frightened lady permitted me to leave my bicycle in her hall, but as I was a stranger she was not willing to accommodate me - I couldn’t blame her as Mount Street was at fever pitch that night. I thanked her and was glad to have found a safe place for my bicycle.

Back in the street I met a pal and neighbour (Billy Hodgins - he was later imprisoned for his I.R.A. activities). He suggested that we try and get across the bridge in Grand Canal Street. We both approached the bridge only to find that it was guarded. Just then a couple of shots rang out and we ran for the nearest shelter, Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital. The gatekeeper would not admit us and told us to come back when we were shot - he thought it was very funny.

We retraced our steps to a house near the corner of Grattan Street. This lady had told us if we heard the pick up lorry on the street to come back to her. I think her name was Mrs. Flynn. She took us to a downstairs basement kitchen.

Shortly afterwards soldiers were parked outside the house and another house-to-house search was on its way.

The house we were in escaped the search, possibly due to the fact that the kind lady who had taken us in supplied the soldiers outside with cups of tea. She was a very kind person and made both of us feel at home.

About midnight, before she retired to bed, she gave us tea and home made scones, rugs and blankets to keep us warm. Her kitchen range was a blessing on that cold November night.

We woke early next morning, already dressed except for our boots which he did not up on until we got outside her hall door, for fear of waking anyone coming up the stairs. We did manage to leave a note of thanks on her kitchen table.

I called to the house in Mount Street to collect by bicycle. A very distressed lady opened the door to tell us that her husband and a Scottish friend had been taken away the previous night and her house had been searched for the owner of the bike.

It was now 8am on Tuesday morning. With pal Billy on the Back Step we arrived home for breakfast.

Having heard of my overnight experience our Shop Manager (Mr. W. Parry) told me to leave work at 5.30pm instead of 6pm. This concession gave me an extra half hour Billiards for a week or two.

Williamstown Fishermen (1912-1920)

The village of Williamstown, situated between Blackrock and Booterstown, was quite a happy place in which to live long ago.

We had three months Summer school holidays which we boys spent mostly at the seaside. Our chief occupation was fishing.

Alternatively, when the tied didn’t suit to set our lines we looked after the bicycles of the many cyclists who cmae out from the city for a swim.

Most days were spend on the Strand diggin bait (lug) to set on our lines for the incoming tide. The fishing lines were staked on the Strand about 700 yards from the foreshore and would stretch almost from Booterstown to Blackrock.

Each hook was baited with lug and this operation was carried out twice per day. Each lad would set his line of about 70 to 100 hooks - I needn’t tell you that we always had a surplus of fish.

The species of fish ranged from Plaice, Flounder, Salmon Bass and the occasional Guernet and Lemon Sole as well as plenty of Dog Fish which was useless to us.

Our family of six boys and two girls plus Dad and Mum were practically reared on fish and as most of us lived to a ripe old age, regular fish meals gave us a good healthy upbringing.

Money was very scarce and meat was a luxury we didn’t often enjoy.

My good Mother suffered a financial loss when I became an apprentice in Mr. T. H. Mason’s workshop to study Scientific Instrument Making at a wage of nine shillings per week. That 200-ear-old family firm at 5/6 Dame Street (now at 29 Parliament Street) retired me on my 65th birthday and still mail me my Retirement Pension after 21 years.

Now, what did I do with my surplus fish? Here is the answer.

A Mr. Elliman and his family lived on the Rock Road opposite Blackrock College. He bought all my spare fish and he told me he had a method of preserving it in glass jars for Winter use. There were no household fridges in those days.

Just a word about Mr. Elliman. He sold a small cinema in Brunswick Street (now Pearse Street) and opened the first cinema in Blackrock.

As well as paying me a moderate price for my produce, he treated myself and a pal free admission to the Blackrock Cinema any time we wished to go. I needn’t tell you how much we both availed of this opportunity to see our famous film stars, namely Pearl White and Eddie Polo and not forgetting our favourite cowboy, William S. Hart.

Mr. Elliman later became owner of the Metropole Cinema in O’Connell Street, the Theatre Royal and Winter Gardens, the Gaiety Theatre, the De Lux Cinema in Camden Street, and many other enterprises.

The lone fisherman of today is Benny McManus. The late John Beggs continued fishing at Williamstown and finally finished up digging bait only. That bait eventually found its way to an exporter in Ringsend where an enterprising person had the Lug dehydrated and packed in cartons. It was later purchased from a slot machine at a Railway Station in Birmingham.

For a couple of years after my retirement I indulged in night line fishing but alas, digging the bait put paid to my efforts. The sand seems to weigh heavier as you grow older.

The Scarlet Fever Band

In those “good old days” 75 years ago (about 1915) three common disease were prevalent in the village of Williamstown, namely Scarlet Fever, Tuberculosis and Diphtheria.

A very severe outbreak of Scarlet Fever hit the town with disastrous effect. Lack of hygiene could account for much illness in those hot Summer days. One could observe many a kitchen ceiling draped with fly papers and a multitude of dead and dying flies.

The Scarlet Fever outbreak is reputed to have started in Blackrock College which then house a big number of Student Boarders.

By order of, probably, the Health Authorities a large load of white enamel chamber pots were deposited on the Council Refuse Dump in Blackrock Park.

As boys, we collected thom - two pots for each boy - and, banging one against the other we marched along Rock Road in proper marching order, singing that popular World War I song “It’s a long way to Tipperary.”

Our escapade didn’t last too long. Our next account of those pots was early the following morning when we found the neighbourhood littered with well-batter chamber pots - so ended out Scarlet Fever Band.

A Council employee eventually conveyed them all back to the dump in the Park.

Some of our Band pals contracted Scarlet Fever, including myself and three younger brothers who spent six weeks in Loughlinstown Fever Hospital recovering from the epidemic. The Blackrock Ambulance men sure had a busy time.

Today, that cinder bank is transformed into an amphitheatre where many people can sit and enjoy outdoor music.

Lately added to the Park area is the late Johnny Cullen’s field opposite Seaforth Parade.

Adjoining the wall of Montreux Lodge close by may be seen some of the Ramparts of the old seashore. When I was a young boy they were pointed out to me by a very old resident (Mr. Murphy).

I often think that that should not completely disappear as I was told by old Mr. Murphy that they formed part of the foreshore, then known as the Mud Sea, and that was before the coming of the Railway in 1834.

I am told that the first Rail track was to the Martello Tower at Williamstown but was later extended to Kingstown - now Dun Laoghaire.

Many a lively Sunday afternoon was witnessed at Merrion Avenue Park Gate. Our pious brothers and sisters from Sydney Avenue, with a portable Harmonium, sang and preached there at 3pm. This meeting did not meet with the approval of some menfolk and, consequently, some rather nasty scenes of protest resulted which required the attention of D.M.P. (Dublin Metropolitan Police).

An incident during the Royal Visit of 1911

The year 1911 brought to Dublin a visit of the late King George V of England.

On his return to Kingstown (now Dun Laoghaire) to take the boat back home, he passed along the Rock Road near Booterstown in a vis-a-vis with a regiment of Hussars on horseback.

Opposite Willow Park School there stood on the public highway a Gent’s Toilet (known locally as “The Iron Closet”). There were many similar green painted, solid iron structures of good architectural design - all topped by His Majesty’s Crown.

As no spectators were assembled at this part of the journey, I decided to give him a good send off.

I had just purchased a very large can of buttermilk, from Garrett’s Farm - President E. De Valera once lived adjacent to Garrett’s in later years. The can had wire handles and I had perfected myself in the art of swinging the can of milk in a circular movement above my head without spilling a drop. I may say that it took quite a number of failures to achieve perfection.

To honour the Royal visitor I climbed to the top of the Iron Closet, sat on the Crown, and as His Majesty approached the spot, I stood up and swung the full can of buttermilk with my usual acquired skill.

Unfortunately, the second time round, the can tipped part of the metal closet and, the next second, I found myself on the concrete floor of the closet, and in a very filthy state, spilt buttermilk being the least obnoxious of the substances.

My one consolation (if it be so) was a warm tribute from His Majesty. He gave me a hand wave which I just managed to observe before disappearing in the Closet beneath.

The fall didn’t cause me an injury.

Was my demonstration with it? I think so. I do not remember an official visit from a British monarch since that year.

Pictures of local life

I was a keen amateur photographer and on the deaths of three heroic Dublin Firemen at a fire in Pearse Street I took a photo of the scene during my lunch break.

Mr. Flynn, the publisher of a new paper, The South Dublin Chronicle, later to be published as the East Coast Express), accepted my print for publication.

He asked me to submit to him a couple of photos each week of events in the Borough at the fabulous publishing fee of five shillings per print.

The money wasn’t too attractive but the work was interesting.

Soon afterwards I was approached by Mr. Mannix, Art Editor of the Sunday Independent, to cover more interesting events such as the Annual Captain’s Dinner at Woodbrook Golf Club and dance dinners at the Royal Marine Hotel.

As a spare time job I felt honoured to oblige and the pay was slightly better.

The morning papers paid the large sum of ten shillings if you were lucky enough to get a free lance picture accepted. In the Herald and Evening Mail the pay was seven shillings and six pence if your entry was published.

Denis Garvey who did the reporting of events and myself as official photographer spent many an enjoyable evening in the service of Mr. Flynn’s weekly newspaper.

Blackrock athletes had a festival day every Whit Monday. The day started with the Annual Marathon Race and ended with Carnival activities at Blackrock Park.

A Mr. McKeon, a usual Scratch man, usually won the Marathon prize. I understand that a man with a 20-minutes start romped home one year, but the prize was nevertheless awarded to Mr. McKeon as it later transpired that our local hero had spent most of his running time in the first pub on the route, then known as Larry Wicham’s in Merrion Avenue, before “completing” the run.

Another big event for Whit Monday was the Greasy Pole. This consisted of a pole, projecting over the Pond, covered with a nice smear of grease. Many young, and not so young, men entered for this event. The lucky winner, having reached the Pole’s end, could grab a bag contained a large ham. This provided plenty of laughter, except for those who lost their balance!

A regular competitor, Joe Roche, complained of a salt water taste from the ham, so an old leather football case containing a £1 note replaced it.

Finally the day ended in pure Carnival spirit with a concert on the Band Stand given by a musical group known as the “Coons”, and possibly a firework display.

These were great days of good fun for all the young folk and now, at the twilight, my only wish is that those good old days were still with all of us.

In the Vaults

Many years ago I was interested in visiting some of the Church Vaults for people who found their way into our history books. So I went to St. Werburgh’s Church. Under this church lies the coffin containing the remains of Lord Edward Fitzgerald (Duke of Leinster) and, outside in the small graveyard, lie the remains of Major Sirr, the English major responsible for the capture of Lord Edward.

I was alone one day in the vault at Christchurch when a Corporation worker suddenly appeared. He had found his way through another entrance! The workman gave me as big a fright as I gave him. However, sitting on a flat tombstone, we had a long chat before we parted.

The vault of St. Michan’s proved to be the most interesting. Someone had written to the newspaper to know how the bodies had become mummified. I ventured to add my knowledge of those mummified bodies and I was printed in the Evening Press in October 1965.

“Why the old vaults are so dry.

May I be permitted to offer my views as to why the bodies in the vaults, especially those of the nun and crusader became mummified. Of course, I agree that a stable environment has a good deal to do with the preservation of the bodies, but your correspondent asked, “why are the vaults so dry?”

Now the original St. Michan’s was the second church built in Dublin in the year 1094. Christchurch dates from 1038. The site on which St. Michan’s stands was originally an oak forest, consequently, those oak trees are reputed to have absorbed all the moisture from the ground and this account for the bodies failing to decay.

Another interesting vault is one to which a body had been taken from an outside burial. I understand there may be seen in this vault a veil of web which it is estimated took over 200 years to build by the spiders. A coffin falling from some height sliced the web in the centre, giving it the appearance of a massive silk curtain. [The spider’s web no longer exists. KF]

Also with the Stool of Remembrance may be seen the memorial to the Danish Bishop and Founder of St. Michan’s.

I attended a lecture away back in 1917 at which the Lecturer, Mr. Reynolds, author of “Footprint of Emmet,” told his audience that he was not too sure but that the body of Robert Emmet, was interred in the grounds of St. Michan’s.

These few remarks may prove of some interest to the many visitors to St. Michan’s, and to the many Dubliners who have St. Michan’s on their doorstep. May I say, it is well worth a visit.”

Dun Laoghaire Golf Club

In November 1987 my age prompted my resignation form the Dun Laoghaire Golf Club. Thus ended many pleasant mornings on the Golf Course.

My two very good friends, Col. Dave Neligan and Cyril Corbet, provided a recommendation and the Club Committee elected me a member in the mid-1960’s on my retirement from the firm of T. H. Mason and Sons after 46 years of service.

The change from the usual routine of the City life to the open countryside was a big treat to me, and practically every morning found me on the Golf Course. That exercise, I assume, added many healthy years to me.

I cannot claim to have carried home any trophies.

An unfavourable day for Golf would find me in the Billiard Room where two tables were at our disposal for Snooker. The Billiard table always appealed to be for in my youth I played Billiards at the old Blackrock Temperance Club.

I am sure some of our elderly members can recall the “Knights of the Dawn.” This was a small group of elderly gold fans who decided to run a month competition at various golf clubs.

Playing against Joe Costello at Woodenbridge, I might have been on the prize list had I not sliced my Tee shot and my ball entered the Avoca River, never to be seen again.

How did the Club start? In 1910 a group of 51 men held a meeting at the Royal Marine Hotel, Kingstown, and decided to organise a Golf Club for the district.

The Club is situated at Eglinton Park and that year a nine hold Golf Course was laid out. Membership developed rapidly and 200 men and 70 Lady Associates. The Club House was erected at a cost of £1,265.

An energetic Committee got under way, and one April 4th 1922 the Course was extended to 18 holes and became known as the Kingstown Golf Course.

Club records tell me that the first Chairman was Major Brian Cooper (M.P. at Westminster - later Dail Eireann member from 1923 to 1930). After his death Major Cooper’s widow present Dail Eireann with a silver bell which is still used a Dail sittings.

In 1916 Lord Longford became president of the Club. He was killed in action in the Dardanelles in WWI. His successor was Viscount De Vensci.

Membership in the early years was very exclusive and only people of suitable background were admitted. However, by the mid 1920’s Civil Servants, Bank Officials , etc., became acceptable.

In 1966 ,the Longford and De Vesci Managers decided to sell the land they held on lease for £16,000 - a lot of money in those days.

The money was raised by Bond Issue. Club members paid £10 each with the attraction of a half-yearly Prize Draw. All Bonds were fully redeemed in 1982.

General Index .