Jean's Journal: Another glimpse into the past

by Jean Farrell

Isn’t this photograph (above) lovely? It was taken at the guards’ dress-dance sometime during the 1950s. My father is dancing with Mary Rushe.

Mary Rushe, sadly, passed away recently. Originally from The Bullet Road, Mary married Tom Farrell and lived in Ballykeeran all her life.

Way back in the 1950s, before we had career-guidance teachers and choices of jobs, many smart country girls did what Mary did. They attended secretarial courses and then got work in businesses in town.

I personally know four Marys (older than me) who cycled into town every morning and spent their days working in little offices, looking after the accounts of local shops. These Marys (and many like them) were extremely capable women who could have run the country!

Regular readers will know that my father had a butcher shop, opposite the guards’ barracks, in Pearse Street. Mary Rushe worked there, in the tiny office. We knew her very well, because she came up to our house, in O’Connell Street, every day for her dinner. We were in national school at the time.

My father had a good business. In the days before people owned fridges housewives bought their meat every day. Johnny Walker, a lovely man, worked in the butcher shop too. Our cheerful messenger boy was PJ Cannon, from Parnell Square.

This is what took place there, every day, back in the 1950s. The phone would ring all morning. Mary would answer and take orders. Daddy would cut the meat on a wooden slab, then wrap it in greaseproof paper off a roll. It was then wrapped in brown paper off another wide roll. Twine was on yet another roll and this was used to tie the parcel. Plastic bags had yet to be invented!

The messenger boy was then dispatched to cycle around the town with all the orders. The basket on his heavy messenger boy’s bike would be full of small parcels, to be delivered to housewives, waiting for their meat, at home. Their husbands and children would be coming in for their dinner in the middle of the day.

Mary Rushe was busy all morning answering the phone and adding the amount each customer owed into a book. Customers who lived nearby walked to the shop every day and bought their meat. Mary took note of what this cost and added it to their account.

If an account wasn’t ‘settled’ at the weekend, Mary wrote it into a big brown heavy ledger.

I know all this because, when Mary took her annual holiday, my older sister or I had to sit in for her. I was only 10 years old at the time! We dreaded it, because this is what happened. The phone would ring. “Hi Mary, can I have the usual.” And the phone would be put down!!

“Who was that?” Daddy would ask me. “I don’t know.” “What did she want?” “I don’t know!” Our father was fair and easy-going! He’d look at his watch. “What day is it?” he’d ask himself. “Tuesday, ten o’clock – that’ll be Mrs Barnes looking for her two chops!”

Mary, Johnny and Daddy were a good team. They had great fun and banter with the customers.

This is a quote from my book Jean’s Journal 1. “I wonder would the following happen in a butcher shop nowadays. When the song ‘Hello Dolly’ was number one in the Top Ten, I was in my father’s butcher shop. All the usual customers were there and in good humour. They were talking about a dish that Monica Sheridan had cooked on television the night before.

The phone rang. My father nodded at me to answer it. “Hello,” said Dolly Behan, whose voice I instantly recognised. “Hello Dolly,” I said into the phone. Well, everyone in the shop looked at one another and immediately started singing ‘Hello Dolly.’ My father came outside the counter and waltzed with one customer. He was a good dancer and the saw-dust on the floor helped them glide gracefully around the shop. Everyone laughed and they all went home smiling.”

The likes of that definitely wouldn’t happen in Lidi or Aldi!

Mary Rushe cycled into work every day, except Sunday. She had a half day on a Thursday. She told us about cycling past Tinker’s Cross, Faggot Hill and along The Ballymahon Road. At the time, the town began at the White Gates.

Mary would arrive into our house for her dinner when ‘The Kennedys of Castelross’ was on the wireless. She was an intelligent interesting girl and our mother loved her company. Mary would chat to us all. She was about ten years older than me. We considered her gorgeous looking and stylish.

Every Christmas, Mary went to the guards’ dress dance with my mother and father. This was one of the social highlights of the year, in Athlone. No doubt they had a great time!

Our shop burnt to the ground in 1962. That was the end of Coyle’s butcher shop. My father built a bar there instead. It is now called ‘The Bailey.’

Last week, my sister and I went out to The Bullet Road to pay our respects to Mary. There we met many of her lovely family. We shared our happy memories of their mother with them. May she rest in peace.

Maybe, above in Heaven, herself, Daddy, Johnny and PJ can chat about the good old times they had in our butcher shop. And, indeed, they might meet even most of their old customers up there too!! Who knows?

jeanfarrell@live.ie