Jean's Journal: Go-carts and other memories of Parnell Square

by Jean Farrell

I was reared in a very old house, on O’Connell Street. Many generations of Coyles lived there, before me. It’s been very interesting to read the 1926 census and see what relatives lived there 100 years ago.

Our house, on the side of the street, was at the junction of O’Connell Street, Bastion Street, Chapel Street and Parnell Square Hill. From our long, front window we had a very clear view of much activity.

We saw all the pupils passing on their way to and from St Peter’s School. We saw all the folk passing on their way to The Dean Crowe Theatre (then known as St Peter’s Hall.) We saw all the soldiers passing on their bicycles going to and from the barracks. And as a soon as we heard the Gentex siren, we saw all the girls passing on their way back to work in the factory.

I’m just thinking now that, as a child, inside and outside my house was full of people and noise, all day, every day. The concept of ‘quiet time’ was unheard of! And we couldn’t go up to our bedroom for solitude, because, for most of the year, we’d perish with the cold up there!

If I was looking out the long front window of our living-room, on a particular day, in the early 1950s, I would have seen the two lads in this photo (above). I’d have seen them setting off, in their go-karts, to race down the hill that was directly in front of our house.

They would have sped down Ball Alley Lane, into Parnell Square. In this old photo, you can actually see the wall of the ball alley. The old chapel, now The Dean Crowe Theatre, is visible too. My brother (who knows everything!) says that the car is a Zephyr.

Parnell Square, built in 1933, was full of children when we were young. The two lads are Patsy Beaumont and Ned Kilmartin. The Beaumonts lived in number 58, hence that number on his cart. Don’t they look so proud and delighted with their go-karts? They were known by different names. In our house, we called them soap boxes.

Young lads got enormous fun out of these. In fact, a boy with hidden engineering skills, could do all sorts with the wheels of an old pram. It was a great challenge. I say ‘boy’ because at no time, in my youth, did I ever see a girl having anything to do with them. An axle, shafts and rods were involved in their creation, I’m told.

Many races took place in these. One of my brothers remembers going out to the hill, in Ballykeeran, known as ‘The Dog and Duck Hill.’ He and his friends raced their soap boxes down this steep hill. Annual races took place, on the main roads, in Baylough and Bonavalley, too - with no helmets and no brakes!

Did you know that there is still a great interest in constructing these? ‘Red Bull Soapbox Races,’ are held all over the world. Google tells me that, “Amateurs challenge one another in hand-made motor-less vehicles. The more creative and entertaining – the better!” If you’re interested, you can see many photos on-line of these.

Back to our basic soap boxes. They had many uses, as well as racing. Remember Christy Brown, in the film ‘My Left Foot?’ He was towed along in a soap box all the time. Small brothers and sisters were pulled in these too. Bags of turf were transported from one house to another on them also (maybe to Granny’s.)

Mentioning turf reminds me of the following. I met a friend, my age, lately. She told me that she and her husband were heading off to the bog that evening. This really surprised me, as I didn’t think anyone cut turf anymore. She said that they have ‘turbary rights.’ I’ll say no more about this because I know it is a controversial complex subject.

I liked this description of a bog. ‘A bog is a floating body of water held together by turf’.

What I was making a wonder of was that my friend and her husband (who is even older than I am!) are able for all that bending and lifting and bending and straightening and bending again! I was barely able for it 60 years ago! God bless their flexibility!

She says that she actually likes being on the bog. She likes the silence and the calmness of it. I do remember that.

This reminds me of a story I heard. Three sisters were taken to the bog by their father. They were teenagers at the time. Their father had to return to work on his farm which was three miles away. He said he’d collect them later and they were to have a lot done by then. They got so bored footing the turf that they decided to have a screaming competition. Each girl screamed her head off, in turn, and then they all screamed together.

They were so busy screaming that they didn’t hear three cars approaching, at great speed. Their parents and two neighbours had left their farms to rush to the girls’ assistance. Their parents thought that the three girls had fallen into a bog-hole. The sound of their screams had travelled across the three miles. These hard-working country folk were less than impressed when they heard about a screaming competition!

I’m sure the boys in the photo had to work on the bog, long ago. Most Athlone youngsters had to, unlike nowadays.

However, nowadays, those same youngsters don’t have the thrills and excitement of soap boxes.

jeanfarrell@live.ie