1916 Commemoration at Killrosanty

Left to right, Pat Ormonde, Nioclás Ó Griofán Tommy Mooney and Frankie Wright. It was a wonderful day for the event, a few bad film clips which I made can be found of you tube under my handle 'thelongpuckout'

The Time that I Ran Away from Home!

ByJohn McGrath of the Clock Gate, Youghal County Cork.

Told to Youghal historian Mike Hackett

Mike having a cup of tay at my home

Roger McGrath of Strand Street and Noely O’Connell of Mall Lane were two good pals of mine in my teenage years.  During that period, I lived in the Clock Gate with my parents and family  --  so we three pals spent our spare time around the South Main Street area.
Then one day Tom and Noely declared that they were going off to England to seek work.  Their parents knew about it and they were seventeen years of age.  I envied them  --  being able to take off out of town like that  --  but I was only sixteen  --  and I was afraid to ask my parents.  Still, I longed to go!
Money was scarce  --  but I managed to beg, or borrow the huge sum of five pounds  --  and off the three of us went on the train to Cork.  We were going forth to seek our fortune  --  somewhere in England.        I was running away from home!
We went onto the famous ‘Innisfallen’ at Penrose Quay in Cork and paid our passage.  Then before we could settle down on board, a detective approached us, asked our ages, and if our parents had given permission for us to go.  We said that we were all eighteen and had full permission  --  all white lies!  Arriving at Fishguard, we got the train to Bristol  --  Roger McGrath had a brother, Tom, living there.  Tom was married to Mary Dower from Tallow Street, a daughter of Bridgie and Bill Dower and they had settled in Bristol.
Tom and Mary got a land when the three of us appeared on their doorstep one morning.  Looking for work we were  --  but Tom quickly put us straight on that issue.  ‘Things are bad here’ he said ‘The queues at the Labour Exchange are very long’.
We slept that night in a nearby Sailor’s Home for a half-crown each.  It was a real dormitory set-up with panels between the beds that were two-foot off the floor  --  so that a person could crawl under the panels from one end of the huge room to the other.  I still had three pounds left and I slept with the three notes tightly shut in my fist and in under the pillow.  I wasn’t going to be surprised in any Sailor’s Home!
The next morning we went to find the Labour Exchange and as Tom had said  --  the crowds were lined up along the wall and snaked back around the block.  It was time to move on!  We then went to the local railway station to enquire about fares to London.  Roger and Noely had contacts in London where they hoped to get work.   But I had no such contact there  --  my only one was up in Scotland  --  where my father’s sister was married outside Glasgow.  The man in the ticket office told me that the fare to Glasgow was three pounds and ten shillings  --  but I had only three pounds.  To their everlasting credit, my two pals came to the rescue and they gave me a ten-shilling note each.  I paid the three pounds ten shillings to the man in the office, got my ticket and said goodbye to the pals.  I was now on my own!
The train left Bristol at 11 am and, after a long hungry day,  it was mid-night when I arrived in Glasgow  --  thirteen hours later.  In all those hours, I never had to change carriages  --  because the carriage was changed from train to train up through the country.  Then at Glasgow station, I enquired about a bus to Denney, Stirlingshire, where my aunt lived.  There were two bus depots in Glasgow  --  but luckily the nearer one was the one I wanted.  A ten-shilling note was all the money I now had left  --  and anxiously I asked the bus conductor how much the fare was to Denney.  ‘I only have ten shillings’ I said.  ‘Never mind’ he replied ‘The fare is only three and sixpence’.
When getting off the bus in Denney, I met a woman going home from work and I asked her if she knew where my aunt’s husband, Jack McAteer, lived.  She was quiet at first  --  and then she whispered ‘Is he an R.C.?’  I didn’t know what she meant.  ‘Is he a Roman Catholic?’ She said.  ‘Yes’ I replied.  Then she told me  --  48 Graham’s Hill  --  and she pointed to a road leading out to the suburbs.  I gathered my trusty little cardboard case and started walking.  At 2 am., I rang the bell of number 48  -- a far  bigger house than I expected to see.  I rang the bell a few times before the lights went on upstairs and then a man appeared at the front door to peep out at me.  ‘What are you doing coming home at this hour of the night’ said he.  He thought it was his son  --  my first-cousin.  Seemingly we were alike and in the darkness he mistook me for his son.
I was brought in and there was a great celebration.  The next morning, a telegram was sent back to Youghal  --  to my mother  --  explaining that I was safe in Scotland.  They were relieved at home!  A few days later I got a job in a local brick-yard  --  but it was very hard and my hands were not able for it.  The overseer was Polish and he was very strict.  However, my comrades on the job helped me with my section and so I kept my place.  Considering that a number of them were ex-prisoners from the nearby jail  --  then it goes to show that there is good in everybody.
Then one day I went to the local railway station to ask for work and got a job there.  I was a porter and had to be over twenty-one years of age  --  which I said I was  --  and I only sixteen!  But soon I had to run from there when they looked for a birth cert., and I was in danger of ending up in jail.
Altogether I stayed a whole year in Scotland  --  a great year’s education along the road of life!