Jean's Journal: Standing outside the Genoa
by Jean Farrell
Above is a photograph of the girls who did their Leaving Cert in Saint Peter’s Secondary School, in 1963. The picture was taken in front of the grotto beside Saint Gabriel’s Laundry, in Excise Street. Most of the girls would now be 80 years old.
I came across the photo on the Facebook page, Athlone Down Memory Lane. Some names were given, Mary Keary, Breda Duke and Una Campbell are at the back. Myra Garry and Veronica Egan are in front. The only girl I recognise is on the extreme left, wearing a white dress. She is Joan Brock, who like myself, was reared in O’Connell Street.
Don’t they look so elegant? Those were the days when our role model in life was The Virgin Mary. We were told that ‘to be lady-like was to be Mary like.’
Note how the girls in the front row are seated and note what the nun is wearing. I’ve written about this habit before.
During my eight years in national school I was taught by nuns wearing a similar habit. I used to study the whole ensemble daily. The wide veil served the purpose of blinkers (like race horses wear.) It was to stop them being distracted by the world around them.
The white starched cloth around their faces used to hurt them. We often saw a nun holding it away from her chins, for a moment of relief. The white ‘bib’ was to hide their bosoms, and the long black dress was to hide their whole bodies. Muslim women wear the same attire, for the same reason. And I wish to add that most of the nuns who taught me were kind, caring, excellent teachers.
I’ve been referring to schools on the Connaught side of town in recent articles. I’ll cross the bridge now and tell about how much we fancied the Marist boys, on the far-side.
I was away in boarding school from 1964 until 1969, so I knew no boys in town. My timid friend and I would sometimes go for a walk over to the far-side. Our aim was to walk up the town and look at the boys who were standing outside the Genoa.
The Genoa was a café in Custom Place, run by the Magliocco family. They came to Athlone, from Italy, in the 1940s.
A man, my age, explained about ‘Standing outside The Genoa’ and we laughed at the good of it. He had been a student in The Marist and remembers all about the ritual of ‘Standing outside The Genoa.’
He explained that as a junior in The Marist, a boy could NOT be seen ‘Standing outside The Genoa.’ It wasn’t until you were a senior pupil that you could do so. It was like a rite-of-passage!
Goggle tells me that 'a rite-of-passage is a formal or an informal activity that marks an important stage in a person's life, especially becoming an adult.’
That’s exactly what it was like for them, this man told me. You had ‘arrived’ when you finally could be one of the big boys ‘Standing outside The Genoa.’ After school, you headed down town and, with the other big boys, you took up your position ‘Standing outside The Genoa!’ That’s all they did – they just stood there!
The Andy Williams song ‘Music To Watch Girls By’ tells what happened next. “The boys watch the girls while the girls watch the boys who watch the girls go by.”
The Bower Secondary School day-girls would parade up and down past them, in their gorgeous maroon uniforms. The skirts would be rolled up to show off their long legs. How I envied those girls!
Then, on my last holiday home from awful boarding school, I met one of these Marist boys at a hop, in The Rugby club. He asked me out on a date. The excitement! He called for me and we walked across the bridge to The Genoa. All his pals, standing outside, greeted us. In we went and I can’t tell you how awesome this was for me.
Here I was, on my first real date, actually sitting inside, in The Genoa. I gazed in wonder at the long painting of an Italian garden on one wall. I watched ‘fine things’ standing at the big juke box, selecting records. I listened to ‘Build Me Up Buttercup Baby,’ ‘Bad Moon Rising’ and ‘Proud Mary.’
As I ate a plate of chips and drank gorgeous coffee, I thought I had died and gone to Heaven!!
The Genoa chips were famous. I’ve eaten in the best of restaurants and no food in any of them has ever smelt at tempting as Genoa chips. I say ‘smelt’ because, as teenagers we often went to the pictures in the Ritz cinema. During the interval people who had money went over to the Genoa and came back in with bags of chips. These were soaked in vinegar and smelt absolutely delicious. How I yearned to actually eat a bag full. Also, at that time in 1969 we wouldn’t have drank coffee.
So here I was now, eating Genoa chips and drinking Italian coffee, with a fellow in The Genoa, who was often seen ‘Standing outside The Genoa.” Could life get any better, I wondered.
Some things never change. Every Friday afternoon I see crowds of older teenagers, in various school uniforms, congregating in our two shopping centre. Here, the boys watch the girls while the girls watch the boys who watch the girls go by.
I watch them and smile, remembering my days, doing the very same.
jeanfarrell@live.ie