Page 23 - Garda Journal Winter 2019

GARDA HISTORY | A Passage Garda’s Life
on the other hand, brought more bad feelings and hostility though not from the families of the pub patrons.
In response to complaints, the Superintendent in Cobh occasionally came over to make raids on his own. It was disconcerting, to say the least, for a garda to find friends and neighbors in a pub on a Sunday morning after Mass. Summonses had to be given to the publican and the customers. For the publicans, it meant endorsements on their licenses, fines and possible closings for short periods. For the customers, it meant appearances in Carrigaline Court, fines of a few shillings and their names in the “Examiner“. It was a good way to lose friends by doing your duty.
“It was disconcerting, to say the least, for a garda to find friends and neighbors in a pub on a Sunday
My father could recall the Sunday when someone stole his bicycle while he was “raiding” the “Ensign” and threw it into the Lee. He didn’t find this very funny as he was without his only mode of transportation at a time when new bicycles could not be purchased due to wartime exigencies. Fortunately, our prayers to St. Anthony were answered and the bike washed up in Raffeen where it was returned after a few days. The air in the tyres kept if afloat.
There were humorous episodes also. When the knock came and the gardai identified themselves, the publican always had a problem with the lock. “Just a minute, Sergeant. I meant to have this lock fixed,” was a common response. In the meantime, there was a scurrying out the back and an attempt to clear the half-finished glasses off the counter. In the centre of Passage, Main Street and Beech Road ran parallel with the latter at a higher elevation. Pubs on Main Street had small backyards and usually had a ladder leading up to the Beech Road. A local man had been involved in a minor car accident and was walking around the town with the help of crutches pending the outcome of a lawsuit. After my father gained access, the patrons had left and used the ladder to climb to the Beech Road. At the bottom of the ladder was a pair of crutches. The next day, he ran into the “injured” fellow hobbling down the town with the help of the crutches. He was a pitiful sight and he and my father shared a laugh. I do not know how the lawsuit developed but I doubt if his “miraculous” recovery was a factor in the outcome. During the thirty plus years he was stationed in Passage, my father and the other gardai, could not frequent any of the pubs in the area without being accused of favouritism. Like most men, they also enjoyed a pint or two but had to take a trip to Cork City or Cobh or Carrigaline to imbibe and to share memories with gardai colleagues.
Perhaps the most difficult experience with a pub (and one which was not caused by it) occurred one Sunday evening in the summer of 1946. The pub in this incident was the famous “Glue Pot” in the Ferry Point at Glenbrook. As usual, the sing-song was loud and melodious with piano accompaniment Among the patrons were British sailors from the minesweeper fleet stationed in Cobh. These ships spent about a year sweeping mines around the Irish Coast and usually came into Cobh for the weekend. They then came up river by boat and frequented many pubs on both sides of the River Lee. Having survived the war, the sailors were understandably in a mood to celebrate. The alcoholic
contents of a pint of Irish stout was more than they were accustomed to in the navy.
On this particular occasion, there was a woman close to death in the vicinity and my father asked the proprietor of the pub if they could reduce the sound out of respect for the family. Some of the sailors, very inebriated at this point, resented his request and physically assaulted him. Other sailors came out of the pub and joined in the attack Local gardai Christy O’Reilly and John Dolan came to his assistance.
Around 7.30 p.m., a group of us returning from the Sunday evening devotions came upon the scene. On one side, were the three gardai facing about twenty sailors and getting the worst of it. Behind the sailors was another group of onlookers who had gathered to watch the action. Not a single man in the group came to the aid of the three gardai or telephoned for help. My brother, 13 at the time, had the courage to kick one sailor as he was punching his father. It took my mother to call Union Quay station to get a contingent of city gardai to come to their assistance. Whether the inaction of locals was due to a dislike of the gardai or empathy for the sailors, was hard to tell. It just reinforced the old adage that a policeman’s lot is not a happy one and he doesn’t have many friends when in trouble.
Traffic enforcement was applied mainly to unlighted bicycles, especially during the war years. The usual suspects were young people coming from the cinemas and dance halls in Cork City. If the cyclists got past Douglas where a garda named Dennehy took particular delight in giving summonses, they faced a similar risk going through Passage where the local gardai lay in wait.
The locals who hung around the town cross, took a keen interest in watching the action. One cyclist stopped by my father was my mother. This was a major embarrassment for my father which generated much amusement among the onlookers. The scarcity of tyres and tubes from 1943 onwards eventually decreased the numbers of bicycles on the road. Batteries for the lamps joined the list of unobtainable items. Old carbide lanterns which were cumbersome and difficult
“to keep lit, replaced them They had an awful smell.
Essentially, the law required all persons to turn over to the government any American currency in
Disregarding the dangers involved, we loved the thrill of racing our bikes downhill. Yet, bicycles were involved in serious accidents especially after dark. A young boy was killed in Toureen Terrace when he was hit on the footpath by a youth on a messenger bike as he came down the steps from his house. A well known Radio Eireann actor, Charles McCarthy, was paralysed when a toy hoop rolled out the door of a house and tangled with his bike. Another man, well known in the town, died after falling off his bike in the Main Street. The author, Con Houlihan, in his delightful book “Windfalls” has a chapter entitled “Transport of Delight - The Humble Bike”. He describes the importance of the bike in wartime years and the problems with punctures from thorns, scarcity of rubber which produced a black market for tyres. Thefts of bicycles were a major problem. Con tells the true story of a man who, as he described it, “lost the run of himself and went home without his bicycle.” Upon sobering up next morning, he went searching for it and, to his amazement, found it outside the pub where he had been imbibing. He was
morning after Mass”
their possession”
GARDA JOURNAL 21