Rathgar in the rare 'oul times.....

Late forties and early fifties , when we still had trams , travelling into Dublin City Centre ( an Lar ), was not only convenient but also exciting for children .The whining of the engine , the clanging of the bell and the crackling and sparking of the overhead cables as the trams swung around corners , was an adventure in itself , even before arriving in the heart of the thriving , bustling city .
I always remember my mothers story of her experience when travelling on a tram during our Civil War . As a young teenager she had been sent into town to collect fresh eggs which had been sent from a country relative by train . When she had collected the eggs and was on the tram heading homeward , to Terenure , an outbreak of shooting took place , between the two opposing sides , across the street . The tram was stopped and the passengers instructed to lie on the floor . In the process , the precious eggs were broken and my mother's abiding memory of the incident was , not the gunfire , which was a fairly regular occurance at the time , but the fact that she had to dispose of the remains of a basket of farm-fresh eggs , up a Dublin allyway .
Both my father and my maternal grandfather were tram drivers , and when The Dublin United Tramway Company ( a private company , the forerunner of C.I.E. ) , closed my grandfather and his collegues were given a small pension , and retired to their small terraced cottages . In my grandfather' s case this was a cul-de-sac in Terenure known as Rathmore Villas , or more commonly known as 'Tram' Villas .
These little houses consisted of , two bedrooms , a main living room , with an open fire/range , a kitchen /washroom/ scullary . In a small yard outside was the toilet and other washing facilities, a covered-in area for a 'mangle'( for drying clothes ) , and clothesline . There was also a bicycle shed and even a tiny garden space . The front door opened onto the communal pathway of the terrace and the back yard opened on to a laneway which in turn led on to the main thoroughfare of Terenure . Most of my grandfather's neighbours were , like himself , retired tram-men . So each family had their privacy and if they wished could share gossip and reminisences . All requirements , shops , post office , church , garda station were within a short distance .
My grandfather's only son was killed in action in 1916 , not in Ireland but in Greece in the '' war to end all wars ''. Jack was only 18 years of age when he was k.i.a. ( as they say ). He had volunteered two years previously , when he was only 16 ( pretending he was 17 ). One of Jack's first assignments , was to Cork to assist in the collection of bodies washed up on the beaches following the sinking of the Luisitania . An horrific job for such a young man , described in a letter to his parents , read to me by my mother in later years .After that he volunteered to be sent to the'front' and his commanding officer wrote to my grandparents to inform them that because of his age ( they must have discovered his true age ) , they would not allow him to go but if he volunteered a second time they would allow him to go . He did volunteer again . He was sent to the front.So it came to pass that :

18890 Acting Coporal John (Jack) Nolan

6TH Battalion ,

Royal Dublin Fusiliers ,

Killed in action , Balkans , 03/10/1916 ,


I never did get an opportunity to talk to my grandfather Tom Nolan , about his son , what he thought about how , after the Easter Rising , those young men who volunteered , and died in the Balkans , were vilified by some in our society .
My grandfather could have driven the tram that carried the volunteers to the GPO on Easter Monday 1916 , while his son was fighting overseas.....what did he think , how did he feel , old Tom Nolan kept his thoughts to himself......
more later.....