Page 21 - Garda Journal Winter 2019

The Queenstown dock yard,visited by Queen Victoria in 1832
GARDA HISTORY | A Passage Garda’s Life
A modern echo of policing times past.
laws was not going to be easy. Local nautical expressions and idioms were completely unfamiliar to him. Besides being a symbol of the law, his Kerry origins made him even more of an outsider.
My earliest memory of the prevailing dislike for gardai and their families occurred on a walking trip with my mother and three siblings, including one in a pram, up the old abandoned railway line to picnic with the friends. It was a popular spot in summer months. There were several places where the trains went over inlets and all that remained were the two steel beams that supported the tracks. When we came to one such a crossing near Toureen Terrace, my mother asked a group of men, who were standing around, to help her carry the pram over the beams. None responded and we had to turn back home puzzled and disappointed. I believe that their attitude was the result of animosity for the gardai and their families rather than ideological. Although there was some of the bitterness of the Civil War, it was not as obvious in Passage as in West Cork and Kerry. Indeed, many in the town bemoaned the prosperous days before independence when the dockyards were open and the harbour was full full of ships. There was no longer any future for boilermakes, platers, riveters and other specialised dockyard trades. The major role of Passage in the Civil War was when the ship “Arvonia” docked there to unload Free State troops and armored cars in their campaign to capture Cork City from the Republicans.
Although he never discussed his political leanings, if he had any, my father and the other gardai were generally considered “Free Staters” by Republican sympathizers. This, in turn, engendered hostility among that group and their families and made it difficult to get their cooperation in the investigation of crimes.
In this large territory which he covered on a bicycle for over thirty years, the challenges faced were many and often unpleasant. The gardai got many difficult assignments in the course of enforcing the laws, many of which were archaic carryovers from Victorian times. One such assignment shortly after my father’s arrival in Passage was to escort an older man to the big “Red Building” on the Western Road who had been committed at the request of his family. Like many residents of that facility at the time, the man was quiet sane and was quickly released. He was, understandably, not happy with all who were involved in his commitment.
Of all the laws in effect in those days, those related to the sale of alcoholic beverages and public houses were the most unpopular and the most difficult to enforce. Again, they dated back to Victorian times, and were strongly supported by the Hierarchy and temperance groups as a way to control the consumption of alcohol especially among the youth. Enforcing these laws posed enormous difficulties to the gardai who were widely disliked by the offenders. For six days each week, pubs were allowed to open to anyone of age (pubs in the city had to close for two hours in the afternoon). Closing time was 11 p.m. Worst of all, pubs in rural areas were closed to local people on Sundays. The law, which was certainly discriminatory, stated that a person had to be a “traveler” in order to be served on Sundays. A traveler was defined as one who lived or who had slept the previous night, in a location more than three miles away. The legal issue left to the gardai to determine was how do you measure the three miles. Was it as the crow flies or by road miles? Also, many Passage and Monkstown pubs were frequented by people who lived across the River Lee in Carrigaloe or Rushbrooke. By road, they lived more than three miles but only a few hundred yards by boat.
There was something about that illicit Sunday pint which appealed to many normally law-abiding, respectable citizens. Usually, they slipped in after coming from Mass indicating that this infringement of the law was not considered sinful in their minds. It was particularly tough medicine for locals congregating around the Ferry Point or the Monkstown pier on a hot summer’s evening to listen to the loud singing of the city crowd, accompanied by a piano or an accordion, in such popular pubs as the Ferry Point “Gluepot” or the Monkstown “Ensign“. The only entertainment the locals got was watching the inebriated revelers coming out at the 8 p.m. closing time, trying to find their bicycles in the pile outside the premises. After several attempts at mounting and heading in the right direction, they usually made it home to Cork. There was no vehicular traffic to worry about and lots of daylight left. The locals went home, dry, to listen to the wireless, if they had one.
There were thirteen pubs between Raffeen and Rochestown. Some complied with the law better than others. The need to retain the patronage of favored customers forced them to take risks. The gardai were faced with a no-win situation. If they relaxed their vigilance, some pubs would open their doors wide on Sunday mornings. Complaints and anonymous letters to the Superintendent’s office in Cobh from angry wives and mothers, unhappy at scarce money spent on addictive alcohol, would soon follow. When ships were damaged off the coast in storms, some pubs were happy to give credit anticipating possible work at Rushbrooke dockyard All pubs had to be treated equally by the gardai to preclude complaints of favouritism. Strict enforcement,
GARDA JOURNAL 19