''Slick ''

One day last week one of my brothers said to me ,''by the way , Johnny O' Neill died .''
At the time I replied something like ,''oh , I'm sorry to hear that ..''
But , once again a door was opened in my mind and memories of growing up in Rathgar came in ....
When I lived on Rathgar Avenue between 1940 and 1966 our neighbours were a mixture of the remnants of the ''old acendency '' Church of Ireland families and young Catholic families , names such as Harwood , Lane , Lemon , De Lemere , were intersperced with , Kennedys, O'Neills , Dowlings etc.
The O'Neills lived directly across the road from ourselves .I didn't know Johnny very well as he was of an older group than even my older brothers but we got to know about him through his younger brother .Johnny was a drummer in a band . He knew many of the popular musicians of the time and moved in those circles . He was nicknamed ''Slick '' by his peers At the time 21st birthday parties were usually held in the homes and in our house Johnny was often unofficial master of ceremonies , provider of music both live and recorded , through his friends and contacts .
My mother had bought an upright piano , at one of the many auctions that were taking place in the neighbourhood at that time . I had never seen any member of the family playing except possibly Aunt Annabee , gently accompanying herself as she screeched out endless verses of ''The Lovely Lakes of Leitrim '' .But ''Slick's'' friends were different , they did not play the '' p..yawn..o '' , they played the ''pie..anna '', not the same at all . Honky-tonk , jazzy , blues , and the pianist would keep going as long as the Guiness kept flowing . Once we were told that EARL GILL'S FATHER was coming along with Johnny . WOW !( 'round about that time Earl Gill was the leader of one of the best dance-bands in Ireland , he played the trumpet , if ''Slick'' O'Neill was Rathgar's answer to Gene Krupa , Earl Gill was Ireland's answer to Harry James ).
The 21st parties usually happened on Saturday nights and went on all night . Our parents would have gone to bed . In hindsight it must have been very loud for such a quiet area , but I never heard of one complaint from our neighbours and I know if there had been our parents would have ended the party immediatly . Apart from Christmas that was the only time alcohol was in the house .
Early Sunday morning , having removed the comotose piano players from behind the setee , probably still holding a half -empty (half-full?) glass , we prepared to set out for morning mass in Mount Argus , where the Passionists had the earliest mass ...6 a.m., We made our way down past Garville , Harolds Cross , Clareville road , and eventually into the end seats of the beautiful church , slept through mass and slowly made our way home again.....another great night .
Sometime in the early sixties RTE had a popular TV soap called ''The Riordans'' , we heard that Johnny was to play a small speaking role in the show , a house -painter , one of his lines was some thing like :''Well missus , would you like me to paint a MURIEL on the wall of your bedroom ?''.

The PP and others

I knew I had a vocation to become an altar-boy when my mother took me to the local parish church and informed me that I was to become an altar - boy .......because all my friends were.
It turned out to be a very interesting experience involving many early mornings and occasionally a little money .
For most of the ten years that I served , the parish priest was a man named Father Union ( later Canon Union ). A most unusual man for his time . He had obviously been educated in Rome and he visited there as often as possible . A visit to Ireland from a former classmate of his was the highlight of his vocation , Cardinal Ageginian 's (?) visit in the fifties was greeted with ceremony only equalled in 1979 for Pope John Paul II visit and Canon Union was at the heart of it
As altar boys we did not meet him all that often except when serving his mass . But on one occasion he overheard a group of us (mid-teens ) arguing over the merits of a then -famous film actress :'' Who're you talking about ?'' he asked , we thought ,''We're for it now!'', ''Gina Lolobrigida '',we said.......thinking that he would not have heard of her....''NO , no ,no that's not the way to pronounce her name it' LA Lollo bridge EEEEDA ''
The annual Missions were an important part of the church year , just before Lent each year a group of Missioneries from orders such as , Franciscans , Carmelites , Jesuits (always way above me in both stature and vocabulary ) and most dramatic of all the Passionists from Mount Argus . would visit the parish for two weeks , the first week was for the women and the second was for the men . We , the altar boys had to attend both mornings (mass ) and evenings (sermons and benediction ). The Passionists were our favourites ,men in black (almost ), flowing cloaks with high collars , like Batman or Dracula , wide leather belts like John Wayne but instead of a gun they carried a large crucifix . (There is a story , and I'm not claiming that it's true , that one of these missioneries on the second night of the mens' mission asked some altar boys to place , wrapped mint sweets on the seats ( one for everybody ) , to help prevent coughing during the sermon , which had happened the previous night .
After the sweets had been distributed , a drunken man came in late , burstng open the main doors , he ambled up the main aisle of the crowded church ( like Gary Cooper in High Noon ) , elbowed his way into the front seat , just below the pulpit where the priest was giving his sermon and started to cough loudly . The priest , indicating the peppermint on the seat , said to the drunk man (sotto voce)...''For ..cough....For cough ,forcough ''...The drunk looked up at the priest , lurched out of his seat , shouted ''F*ck Off yerself !'' over his shoulder ,and walked out ) Following two weeks of prayer and penance , we were very glad when the LAST NIGHT Of THE MISSION , came .

Bell , book , candle , high cross , thurible , incense , all the hymns of Glory to God , we the altar boys dressed in our new , red , soutanes and crisp , starched surplices.... Acolytes Joe O'Keeffe and Mattie Vaughan whispering lewd , rude , crude jokes and the rest of us trying to keep a straight face , as we processed solemly , the Canon not directly participating but hovering , biretta (hat not gun ) plonked on head , hands deep in his snuff-stained soutane,,, yes this was it , it was all over for another year , if we hurried we could still catch the Sunday night film in the Classic Cinema , around the corner ....Men were standing up , putting their overcoats on , about to rush out before the local closed .....and then we heard it .....the thin whiney (sorry Canon), voice ,''men , men , just a few moments please .....I want to thank.........''Our hearts dropped to our boots , we were afraid this might happen (again) . Canon Joe Union , God Bless him , thanked EVERYBODY in the whole world for EVERYTHING in the whole world , and that was just his starting point , he usually went on to talk about the dire state of the church's finances , and we groaned and sweated through every sentance , every word , hoping that it would finally end before someone died....
The Canon used to patrol his parish perimeters like the Witchita Linesman , although Rathgar Av. was closer to Rathgar parish than Terenure , the Diocese decreed that our house was in his parish and he therefore visited the area fairly regularly . Maybe he is still out there walking the main road between Rathgar and Terenure , searching in the sun for another marginal soul .
I remember the last time I spoke to him . I had told him that I was about to get married ....he suggested that I should arrange the wedding in ROME , as some of my fellow altar boys had done , HE would perform the ceremony , and we would save money on guests......
Ahh the joy of youth...
Laetificat juventutam meam.....

Oranges

Sometimes we tend to take the availability of fruit for granted .All types of fruit are now on sale all year round . Its still comparativly cheap . Why some people think it necessary to interfere with growing and processing of one of natures perfectly packaged foods is a bit of a mystery , straight bananas anyone ?...how about cubic apples ?......or shiny- red= beautiful-looking apples , which have no taste ?...no ! again ?
However the economics of fruit production can be very importand .Whether it is really necessary to genetically modify bananas or apples so that they can be packaged more efficently
is argueable .
In the early nineteen -forties in the USA , just after Pearl Harbour , in Clearwater , Florida , in the heart of the orange-producing country , condensed orange juice was a booming industry ,they were exporting to the UK and Russia . Because of the premium placed on space available on board the ships crossing the war-time Atlantic the system was not working very efficiently , however .
So ''Washington'' sent down an agent from the Dept.of Agriculture .The first thing , Dr. Robert James told the hard nose cynical orange growers was '' the economics of the citrus industry is crazy and you know it . '' Basically Dr. James pointed out to the growers that they were producung orange juice alright but they were throwing away , the pulp , the peel , the seeds , the rag and all of these things were worth many times the value of the juice .Dr. James had had experience as research director in Du Pont , among other companies , and over a period of time was able to show the growers that the by-products of orange processing included the following :

from the seeds a dye that could fix any colour in artificial silk ,

also from the seeds a margarine and vegetable fats for cooking ,

from the peel terpenes ( used in paint ) and carotene ,

from the white pulp a substance called pectine ( apparently a gelling agent used in the treatment of deep wounds )

from the balance of the pulp ethyl alcohol ( used in making smokeless powder )

feed yeast for cattle ,

an activated carbon for use in absorbing unpleasant smells ,

an extract for use in dried milk and dried eggs ,

something called alpha cellulose , used in the making of cellophane ,

So Dr. James argued that the growers had been 'throwing away' about 95% of the potantial value of the orange and that the orange juice could almost be described as a by-product of orange processing .

That was over 60 years ago , the mind boggles trying to imagine what by products can be produced from fruit processing , nowadays .

Jack Nolan

I remember him clearly , sitting by the fire , it seemed to me Summer or Winter , wearing his hat ( I can't say that I ever saw him NOT wearing his hat ) , tobacco-stained moustache , poking the fire .....always , always poking the fire . ( I can remember clearly one day when I was fiddling with the poker and accidently pulled over a large sooty kettle , which was constantly on the boil on the 'range', scalding my legs seriously and having the doctor apply lotion to the huge blisters which resulted . As it was near Christmas and all my siblings were off to see Santa Clause in Clearys my physical pain was added to by disappointment , even though I did get my Santa present by proxy . )
This was Tom Nolan , my maternal grandfather . He outlived his wife Kate by many years as he did most of his peers . When I was 5 or 6 or maybe older I would see him almost daily during my school mid-day break . He was a dour man but not without humour . He had little patience with two 5 or 6- year- old boys , myself and my younger brother and our kindly grandmother Kate had often to warn us to 'make ourselves scarce ' because grandad Tom had gone outside to cut a switch , to curb our boisterousness (?).For the record we never actually saw this infamous 'switch'.
Tom Nolan , was a retired tram-driver , from the Dublin United Tramway Company (D.U.T.C.)
a private tram company before CIE was formed .He and his family (during my time this consisted of two surviving daughters , my mother and her sister. ).Tram Villas , was the address and many of the tram employees lived in such accomodation , a terrace of small , comfortable houses in the midst of a stirring suburb of Dublin City , Terenure .
Patrick Pearse and his Volunteers would have passed by the end of that terrace on the morning of the Easter Rising on their way from Pearse's school in St. Enda's in Rathfarnham in to O'Connell St. (Sackville St.) and into Irish History . It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Tom may have been driving the tram that took some of the rebels on that journey .At that time Tom and Kate would have had a son , birth cert name John but always called Jack . Tom's son would not have been at home when the Volunteers passed by on Easter Monday , he had already volunteered to join the 6th Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusillers in 1915 . I was told by my mother that he gave his age as 17 when he was in fact only 16 .Like Pearse , Jack died in 1916 (Oct) in Greece on what he believed was an equally important mission .
But when I knew Tom Nolan he was not allowed to shout from the rooftops how proud he was of his son because after 1922 the only heros we were allowed to acknowledge were those who died here .
So Jack Nolan at 16 years of age volunteered . Apparently he was initally sent on 'home' duties , for example I remember my mother telling me that Jack had written to his parents about being assigned to duty in Cork following the sinking of the Luisitania , that duty was to help collect the bodies as they were washed up on the beach , as the ship had been sunk not too far off shore .
I also remember my mother telling me of letters received by her parents from Jack's commanding officer , saying that Jack had volunteered to 'go to the front' twice but because of his age he was refused but if he volunteered a third time he would be allowed to go .....Jack Nolan , Corporal , aged 18 years died fighting in Greece on 3rd Oct,1916 , no. 18890 and is buried in a military cemetary Struma in Greece about 65 kilometers from Tessolonica...
To my knowledge no member of the family has ever visited his grave ,(yet?) certainly Tom
or Kate didn't .
Tom Nolan was a simple man and must have been terribly confused when his young hero son ( and tens of thousands like him ) were vilified in 'memoirs' of various home-grown 'heros' for 'taking the King's shilling '.
Thank God this is all changing now and myself and my wife won't feel awkward anymore when we wear the ''Poppy'' on Rememberance Sunday......
For Tom and Kate Nolan , their son Jack , daughters , Kathleen , Carmel , Josie .