Ellen Horgan’s memories of Belturbet’s old time characters

Times Past

Jonathan Smyth

In the third instalment of Ellen ‘Horgan’ Igoe’s reminiscences we discover a few of the old time characters in Belturbet. Ellen's daughter, Regina Fattorini from Liverpool, recently informed me that her brother Michael, now living in Denver, Colorado, ‘has our grandfather's (John Horgan) war medals displayed in his home.’

Regina and her sister Geraldine, who too lives in England, have war medals from their granduncle Daniel and his other brother, Jeremiah, both of whom also served in the Great War and died at the Somme. The Horgans' descendants are proud of them and treasure the medals received in recognition of their service.

Belturbet Town

When Ellen Horgan left Belturbet for Liverpool in 1950 she had endless happy memories of her hometown in Ireland. We are again pointed to Belturbet’s historical position as an important garrison town which in turn gave the place its own uniqueness.

Ellen recounted: ‘My father, being an old soldier, liked to talk to other veterans in the town.’ There were the likes of Johnny ‘Hooligan’ who fought in the Boer War; but whose proper surname was O’Houlihan. Ellen said of him, ‘he was in the siege of Ladysmith (Africa),’ and ‘my father would tell us about it’ and ‘we children thought he was the image of Oliver Hardy - as he was fat and chubby faced - though white haired and older.’

Then there was Chucky Brennan, an ex-army man from Belfast who lived on Holborn Hill, Belturbet who had a barber’s shop. Grandfather Jerry pointed out to Ellen that Chucky ‘came to town with a pair of scissors, a razor and a comb.’ In Ellen’s eyes, ‘he was a kindly man’ who ‘always gave us a penny back when we got our hair bobbed’ and he would say, ‘buy a few sweeties.’ Lal Henderson served his time with him, too, Ellen recalled.

Among the retired servicemen in Belturbet there was one who made the ‘biggest impact on me,’ said Ellen. Paddy McCabe was a tall man, around six-feet tall, who Ellen thought to be ‘a bit touched,’ but never-the-less harmless, and yet very well mannered. Her compassionate nature shines through, when she wondered aloud, ‘who knows what he endured in the trenches, in World War I’ and fondly added, ‘he would come into our house, rubbing his hands together and say in a soft voice (to Ellen’s mother) which was almost a whisper, go up to ‘the loft Ma’am, maybe you’ll have old clothes or an old mattress for me.’ Ellen’s mother always found a ‘bit of jumble’ for him, and in true fashion ‘Paddy would take out a pink paper with rows of plain pins, tear off a single row and hand it’ to Mrs Horgan ‘regardless of the amount of stuff she’d given him.’ Some years later Paddy ended his life in tragic circumstances.

‘Up Kilconny’

The locals spoke of ‘Up Kilconny’ in olden times, taken to mean Kilconny Street, a location formed out of a ‘huddle of houses.’ For Ellen, the dwellings on this street evoked memories of ‘large homes interspersed with smaller ones, plus a few hovels’ while ‘slated roofs had generally replaced the thatched variety.’ Thanks to Ellen, we know that right up to the 1950s, Barrack Hill still possessed a row of thatched houses.

Many changes happened since the 1900s. She declared: ‘gone are the hovels to be replaced by smart bungalows, while piped water has long since made the picturesque hand pumps disappear.’ Another visible change, she noticed, was the absence of the ‘once busy blacksmith’s forge.’ In her mind’s eye, she still visualised Jack Reynolds ‘removing the hot iron from the fire and fashioning it into a horse’s shoe, and codding (joking) with the children while he worked. She revealed: ‘he had been my Uncle Ted’s pal and had, as he often told us, slept in every room in our house.’

The strikingly pretty Miss Bella Power, a tall, graceful blonde travelled by bus from Cavan each week to instruct Ellen and her friends in the art of Irish step dancing. The cost was ‘thrupence’ a session, in a little old hall ‘adjoining Reilly’s bar and the grocery shop, owned by them.’ The class danced to the accompaniment of Mr Timmins from Derravona who knocked out a few tunes on his accordion. Ellen and her sister, May, were two of ‘many girls from the town who attended.’

In a more nostalgic tone, she discussed persons ‘long dead, but not forgotten by the older people,’ like ‘the characters who resided up Kilconny’ and who ‘enlivened our childhood,’ she says. Ellen fondly spoke of Mary the Tub, of whom she said: ‘I never knew her real name’, but she was ‘a jolly old lady dressed in black, a shawl pinned across her chest’ and ‘her terriers were always at her heels as she went into the corner shop, also owned by the Reillys.’ Her voice, she thought, ‘sounded like a cracked record’ as she chatted with the ‘shop assistant and customers.’

Mrs Shannon (or Shaynon as everyone pronounced her name) was a quiet, respectable widow. What made her remarkable in Ellen’s eyes, was that she always wore a black hat with a pointed crown resembling a miniature version of a witch’s hat. Says Ellen, ‘one could not imagine a milliner stocking the like!’

To conclude this week’s column, we will leave the final word to Ellen Igoe née Horgan: ‘Growing up in the Staghall area of Kilconny meant we could enjoy the pleasures of country life and yet have the advantage of living close to the shops and other amenities. Our grandparents died when I was very young, but I treasure the memories I have of them: My grandfather (Jerry Horgan) placing on my head a hat with a veil which came over my face, then taking me up the garden to inspect his beloved bees when I was all of five years; or, accompanying my grandmother on a visit to our near neighbours, Mrs Neil and her daughter, Mrs Netherfield … Their house was reputed to have once been a protestant school and the niche between the top windows where the school clock had been could still be seen until it was cemented over in the late fifties. The house was sold to Master Gerry McGovern when Mrs Neil died and her daughter went to live in the Widow’s Row, owned by the Church of Ireland.’

Next week, we continue with one final article from Ellen’s memoir in part 4.