Characters

Seein’ Double: Woman Trouble

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Ah might a given ye the wrong notion of it that the travelling woman was al’ays a gracious and charitable cratur wi’ cures aplenty and such like.  Well, though her great knowledge was respected, she cud be a schemin’ oul wan too!

 
 
There was this woman an’ she was married but wasn’t she carryin’ on with another man unanownst till her husband.  He had he’s suspicions though an’ this time, didn’t he catch them, this man an’ the wife together, an’ there was holy murder.
 
There was an old travellin’ woman used to be around that country – I mine her meself!  She’d get tay and’ a night in the house.  She come in and the woman was on her lone.  She seen there wus somethin’ up an’ she axed the woman was there anything the matter.  
 
‘Oh, an awful unlucky thing happened this morning’, says she, telling her what happened.
 
‘Ah well, no matter’, says the travelling woman, ‘I think I know a way of curin’ that! Lav it till me.’
 
They had sowans for their supper an’ the oul’ travelling woman ate a big baul.  Next morning she asked the woman where the man was.
 
‘He’s away out working in the field along the road,’ says she.
 
Off goes the travelling woman and she seed him working like mad in the field along the ditch.  He was in bad humour.  She raised her hand up to her eyes, the better till see, and she says,
 
‘Good morning to both of yous!’
 
 ‘What do you mean?’ he says, as mad as hell.
 
 ‘Good morning to both of yous?! There’s on’y me here..’
 
‘Ah!’ says the travelling woman.  ‘I had a big baul o’ sowans for supper an’ it puts a great mist over me eyes, she says, so that I see two where there’s on’y the wa’n!’
 
An’ he got to thinkin’ for he had a big feed o’ sowans the night before he’d seed he’s wife wi’ the man.
 
‘Maybe that’s what came over me’, he says, ‘for I had sowans myself before I saw that!’

Hughes 1950 Wedding Party

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Luke Burke Newry
This fantastic wedding party was photographed in George’s Lane, Lower Mill Street back in 1950.  The bride (second from left) was previously Kathleen McAteer and her groom is Joe Hughes, fifth from left.  Most of the women are the bride’s sisters (Josie between bride and groom, and Margaret between Joe’s brother Ben [right] and his wife Rosaleen).
 
Rosaleen and Benny were married two years previously, despite the fact that they are the only ones wearing a lapel flower!
 
Sorry you cannot view the full-size photo.  I think it’s just great.
 
P.S. Did you spot the famous John Fearon?

Read moreHughes 1950 Wedding Party

Characters Galore – Marty Bogroll et al.

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Marty Bogroll
Real characters about town are few and far between of late and indeed if it wasn’t for Marty Bogroll we’d be bate altogether.  Lofty Larkin, I understand is over in Galway.  Characters of yesteryear, like Forty Coats and Forty Bottles are still in our minds.  You can still see the ‘Last of the Summer Wine’ line-up at street corners, on the summer-seats at the Greenbank roundabout and such like, but few have that local-colour name-tag of old that so readily identified both the character and what he/she was famous for.
 
Mary the Rent was a shrewd operator in times gone by.  She’d go round the town knocking on people’s door demanding the rent.  Mary didn’t even have a house of her own, much less be a property-owner of note.  Many people, knowing her well and her needs, gave her a few coppers anyway.  This would be enough to keep her out of the workhouse for a few nights.
 
Jemmy the Smuggler I think was flattered by his name.  A character whose speech impediment rendered him almost unintelligible, he sold newspapers on the streets until illness drove him into the workhouse.  Funny, on-street newspapers sales used to be the job for the local town character.
 
Jamesy Kelly, the singer [‘Singing the Blues’] did it in my day.  Jamesy lives now in the ‘home’ up the Rathfriland Road.  When not selling the paper, he’d call into every barber’s shop for a hair-cut.  With a great clicking and clattering of scissors’ blades and flourishing of comb, the barber would dutifully comply.  Jamesy would rise much pleased from his chair and reward all and sundry with a shy but broad smile, and occasionally a song.  It was his shyness that most appealed to me.  How could he still be shy when he was ever the centre of attention and obviously loved it?  Then he’d move on to the next barber!  He never left time for a hair to grow on his head.  He was loved by all and sundry!
 
Talking of singers, whatever happened to Skibbereen?  He was good enough for guest appearances in the local clubs but it must be twenty years since I even heard his name mentioned.
 
Only the older ones among you would remember Jem the Nod and Sergeant Straw.  Plied with free drink – clearly their only motivation, for these men were no fools – they’d perform silly tricks and act as figures of fun.  On the other hand Slate Lugs from Church Street could strike fear into the hardiest of souls.  By way of contrast, Micky the Dummy was a kindly vagrant who with a friendly smile, was always at hand to offer help whether you wanted it or not!
 
John Torley, or the Cock of the Rock as he was known, could write a begging letter like no other.  One addressed to the Board of Guardians of the Poor Law Union so moved those illustrious gentlemen that they passed the hat round their own table to assist him!
 
Satan Connolly haunted the Castle Street/North Street area of old.  He was normally a docile, if work-shy character and earned his living begging from the local shops.  With a few drinks on him, his temper changed and he became a real devil.  ‘Satan!’ the local young lads would taunt him, with the desired result.  He spent manys a night in custody.
 
The 12th parades brought the best out of Johnny Bullpost, a harmless if slightly deformed creature with a short body topped by a large head and supported by short, thick legs.  His speech impediment ensured that he became a figure of fun for many.  Barefoot, he marched alongside mimicking the brethren on their way to Edward Street Station.  Since many Orange tunes are really Irish rebel songs without the usual words, Johnny would sing along supplying the ‘missing element’.  Occasionally an Orangeman would play along, and give Johnny a sash and a bowler hat to complete the outfit.
 
Mary Bite was a very sad case.  A woman of terribly distorted features, she was also crippled and walked from side to side like a crab.  Her ‘party-piece’ was to creep disguised up upon a group of people, then drawing back her shawl to expose her face, she’d utter a spine-chilling shriek!  She was several times jailed for vagrancy.  After a spell in Downpatrick gaol, while walking home to Newry she dropped dead.
 
Margaret the Flower was known for her extravagant behaviour as well as her love of flowers.  Considered a figure of fun she’d often be seen walking down Hill Street bedecked like the May Altar!  She had little discriminatory taste for she’d mix real with artificial flowers!  After several visits to prison the Mercy Nuns took her in.  This transformed her life and she became famous for her prayerful stance and her devotion to her faith. 

Hector: Fabian

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‘Once’, Fabian went on, ‘my father ordered me on to Hill Street with the handcart laden with herring, to catch the shoppers who mightn’t make it as far as the market.’


‘Pat Phillips, my cousin, who was also selling herrings, protested to the town inspector Mickey Short.  He banished me from the scene.  Pat’s brother, Larry is still selling there!

Read moreHector: Fabian

The Pedlar

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padraic o conaire poems

As in most callings there were two or three classes of pedlars.  The King of Pedlars was the man who, with a tidy balance at the bank, and an account with some great wholesale drapery house, usually drove a van with a horse along the principal roads of the country and disdained to call on any person lower than the rank of strong farmer.  As a rule he was loud, pushing and loquacious, a good salesman and a decent fellow all round. 

Then came the pedlar who drove a mule or donkey-cart and who also frequented fairs where his gaudily-decked booth containing coloured, cotton handkerchiefs, cheap muslin and articles of small ware, was a prominent feature.  He was more or less looked down on by the big man who drove his horse; but the man with the mule had in turn a corresponding contempt for the poorer brother who, with his pack strapped over his shoulders, sought the favour of his customers on foot.  But the latter wayfarer had one advantage over his bigger brethren.  He could, and did penetrate further into isolated districts and so reap many small orders from clients who were not so much in touch with highways.   

And in truth this latter specimen of the tribe was the most interesting of the lot.  He was generally past middle-life with the healthy, hardy glow in his countenance that much living in the open air usually gives.  His face seemed so open and truthful that it was difficult to believe he could over-praise his goods or over-reach one in a bargain. 

But with all that our pedlar was a man with the shrewd eye to the main chance.  It was pleasant to see him approach the open door of the farm-house, and if the time was evening and he contemplated resting for the night, his greeting was doubly voluble and gushing:

Men of the Roads

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John the Tailor was a big rake of a man who called about once a year.  He was a travelling tailor and a great talker.  He stitched up any torn clothes in the house and he talked incessantly as he sewed.  He had a fund of ghost stories and told them well, so well that his audience was afraid to go out after dark.  The phouca (fairy horse) might get them if they did, or the headless horseman, or the black dog with eyes like coals of fire.
 
All John’s ghosts had eyes like coals of fire, the headless horseman excepted.  Usually flames issued from their mouths and the charms against their powers were a hazel stick cut when the moon was full, and a steel knife.  Failing these antidotes, one had to sprint for the nearest stream for ghosts and phoucas, as everyone knew, could not cross running water.  ‘They’re not so plentiful now because the clergy has banished most of them,’ said John ruefully, as if he resented their interference.
 
The fiddler MacDonald was another visitor.  He was a tattered man with a fiddle and mad eyes.  Everyone believed he played for the fairies when they danced in their magic ballroom, hidden in the secret places of the raths.  He knew all about the leprechauns, where they worked and where they had their crocks of gold.  But he didn’t lust after their gold, preferring the company of the ‘Good People’ to coveting their wealth.  He always went out of his way to please them.
 
‘Never pluck up a lady finger [foxglove],’ he warned us children.  ‘The fairies put them on their fingers when they’re dancing.’
All this happened long ago.  Old John Morgan’s dreamy eyes are now closed and John the Tailor’s talkative tongue is long silenced.  Old MacDonald the Fiddler has left his beloved leprechauns and fairies behind him and has gone to a better, brighter world.  When I often think of them, again I am a boy sitting on lichen-covered rock gazing down the Old Bog Road for my kind, story-rich men of the roads.

Ethel Fitzpatrick

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Ethel Fitzpatrick lives today at Carrick Ard on the Fullerton Road, just yards from where she grew up in High Street.  She has contributed a lot to Newry and her people. 

She is Past-Chairman of Newry & Mourne Arts Committee, for years presided over Newry Musical Feis and before that again produced prizewinning shows in the popular Top Talent Contests.

Known affectionately by one and all as Miss Ethel, she is a vivacious raconteur and a teacher of high renown.  She once turned down an attractive offer to present educational programmes on American television, preferring to live and work in Newry.  She was a gifted actress with the Abbey Players and she sparkled in comedies with Newry Musical Society and in a number of pantomimes.  She has given elocution classes to hundreds of Newry folk over the decades and she has also conducted the Phoenix Singers.  Amongst the hundreds she has inspired with her love of music, dance and the spoken word are Sean Hollywood, Margaret Nolan and Gerard Murphy.  The latter in tribute remarked, ‘When she saw how I loved Yeats, she took me to his birthplace in Sligo and showed me the scenes that inspired his poetry.’

Comments in Guestbook here have already shown how much she inspired a wider audience of Newry people.  Those privledged few who visited her school classes could feel the sense of mutual love and harmony. There was a certain inevitability about the way her St Clare’s class won the prestigious Harry Heather Trophy at Newry Musical Feis for thirty years in a row. 

Her stage career began with the Abbey Players under producer Jimmy Canavan.  She joined Michael Mathers, John Bell and Kathleen O’Donnell in presenting O’Casey plays.  She had a variety of Newry Musical Society roles opposite Michael Mathers in shows such as ‘Desert Song’ and ‘Rose Marie’.  She recalled once having to ride a donkey which was pulled up a ramp at the back of the stage while Terry Rafferty brought up the rear carrying a brush and shovel to gather the droppings.

In the late 50’s she joined with Pat Byrne and Quinn Bennett to form the Newry Pantomime Society which put on productions in the Town Hall (fund-raisers for the new Parochial Hall).  Other artists included Charlie Smyth, Irene McCourt and Hugh Magee.  With the launch of the Top Talent competitions she took on responsibility for the High Street entries and appeared in comedy sketches.  She helped to present Newry’s entry in the Top Towns Competition.  A Pub Opera that Miss Ethel organised was televised on the David Frost Show. 

When she retired from teaching, members of the choir of Newry Catholic Girls Club, which she had conducted to success at festivals in Belfast and Dublin, gathered to serenade and to honour her.  She advised they start anew.  They did.  They are today’s Phoenix Singers.

Perhaps the least of her achievements was to be serenaded at Stormont Castle by the then Secretary of State Tom King, rendering ‘The Mountains of Mourne’! 

It’s comforting to know that Miss Ethel is now enjoying a long-delayed rest!

Women of Newry

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It was with astonishment that I realized, on paying tribute to Miss Ethel in this section, how few ladies have so far appeared on Characters pages.  Of course my late friend Alice McKay has been lauded, and Newpoint Players have many strong females, past and present, but overall I feel I have been remiss. 

Although I am contrite I accept too that our womenfolk have in the past, and the great majority of them also in the present, made their greatest contribution in the home, in rearing our finest citizens and often in the most difficult of times and most stringent of circumstances.   May I attempt to make amends by stressing that, regardless of what tributes have already been paid here, or will appear in the future, that this author unreservedly admires and salutes the mothers of Newry, and especially of the poor of Newry over the decades.

I pay especial tribute to my own mother who reared fourteen children by the finest man I have ever known, and one of the most humble.  She never in his lifetime had more than a