It Happens Between Stops

by Mattie Lennon

  When the door opened and in walked the two stars of the “Palace Bar” my mother almost passed away. Peter was three sheets to the wind; he was welcomed and made roast beef sandwiches to soak up the beer that had been well tanked. As a kid I was very proud to sit and watch a film star eat Monday’s dinner. That was one of my funniest memories.

  Sadly we had to endure two very bad fires in our time there and were lucky to escape one that ocurred in the early hours of the morning. We had to be taken down from the building by fire ladder as the flames lashed the building. The building was badly destroyed and we had to move out for some time while it was being refurbished. We were left with little or nothing. Thankfully no life was lost in either of the fires.

  As a young boy I became very observant of the famous people that passed in and out of Bewley’s from Abbey actors to writers, stars of radio, and films. I can remember one night in March 1966 going to bed like any other night with the neon signs flashing on the walls of my bedroom. Only to be awoken by a very loud explosion, it was Nelson’s Pillar being blown to bits.

  I took the army coat of the bed and made my way across to O’Connell St. with my dad to witness the damage and gather some of the rock. Which was presented to the odd tourist in the “Palace Bar” on many occasions?

  The world was a different place in those days, but living in Bewley’s was a very special place to be. To the many people who worked for the original Bewley’s they will remember the employer who had a caring, considerate and very Christian attitude to their staff. To the remaining members of the Bewley family whom I have felt a part of I say thank you for what you gave to Dublin and my dad.

  Finally in June 1973 at the age of 52 years my dad died very suddenly on a Sunday morning.

  Being a man of those times he did not believe in life insurance or investments so we were left with nothing. As the dwelling went with my dad’s job my mother had to deal with the loss of a husband, father, bread winner and the very roof over our head. Shortly after my father’s funeral Mr. Victor contacted my mother to call the family together. This was a very worrying time for her. Mr. Victor soon put her at ease. At the family meeting he made her an offer that no employer would do in this day and age.

  He told her to take the family and go choose a house where ever she liked. He told her he was giving her a loan totally interest free over any amount of time to be paid back whatever way she choose. With nothing in writing.

  As a family my mother had been thrown a life line by the Bewley family in a most Christian gesture. My mother bought a house in the north of the city and worked hard to pay back her payments. Such was the speed of her repayments Mr. Victor would not take some of the final payments.

  This again was another Christian gesture by Mr Victor. On top of that she received a widow’s pension from the company and her Christmas hamper every year, and her pensioner’s party. My mother has now passed on, but the Bewley’s memories live on with my brothers and me, for the rest of our days.

  Simple days in many ways and memories to cherish.

  OUR FIRST TOURISTS WENT BY CANAL

  John Cassidy

  The average person would find it difficult to believe if told today that the Grand Canal Company were the pioneers of the tourist traffic in Ireland and if one added they built luxurious hotels on the banks of this ancient and famous waterway he or she would shake their heads and say what an incredible story, but the fact is it is quite true.

  Thousands of passengers travelled over the canal more than one hundred and fifty years ago and were housed in what were then, no doubt, luxury hotels. The first hotel was built at Portobello in the year 1807 at a cost of eleven thousand pounds. There were other hotels built at Sallins, Robertstown, Tullamore and Shannon Harbour, but the Portobello hotel would appear to have been built to last for all time. The stone in the building came from Tullamore and the slates from Killaloe and the chimney pieces from marble quarries in Offaly.

  The charge in those far off days for breakfast with egg was one shilling and eight pence, dinner two shillings and two pence, tea or coffee one shilling and a room three shillings and six pence. In all eight shillings and one penny per day; I can hear tourists say ‘’those were the days.’’

  The hotel at Sallins was erected in 1785 and the hotel at Robertstown was completed at a cost of seven thousand pounds. The Tullamore hotel cost four thousand pounds, and in 1805 the hotel at Shannon Harbour was erected for five thousand pounds.

  It is on the record that the Catholic Church at Tullamore had to be enlarged because of the influx of passengers carried by the canal to this progressive midland town.

  Lord Dunboyne was appointed Inspector of passenger boats at the handsome salary of eight hundred pounds per year. Charles Bianconi, the founder of public transport in Ireland, ran a road service to meet the arrival of boats at certain points and convey the passengers to their destination. Boats ran day and night, each boat had a first and second class cabin and was swiftly towed along the canal by two horses. In those remote days it was necessary to arm the masters or captains of the boats with pistols as protection against highway men and robbers.

  During the rebellion of 1798 the government commandeered all the passenger boats to convey military and stores to Tullamore from Dublin. When the French landed at Killala in County Mayo, Lord Cornwallis embarked with a large number of troops and baggage on the boats and hastened as far as Tullamore from which place the troops marched to meet the enemy.

  Napper Tandy (immortalised in the song ‘’the wearing of the green’’) and Robert Emmet’s father were co-directors of the Company. The Grand Canal was the premier method of transport and it carried one hundred thousand passengers annually. The boats were nicely fitted with bars and dining rooms, with staff in attendance, and the spoons served with meals were solid silver.

  The passenger on the Shannon was served by two large paddle boats named the Lady Lansdowne and the Lady Burgoyne. These steamers plied between Kilaloe and Athlone and Bianconi’s cars left Limerick each morning with mostly emigrants to meet the boats at Killaloe.

  In the year 1852 the Canal Company found it no longer profitable to continue running their passenger boats and ceased doing so after a long and glorious career lasting seventy years.

  THE PHOTOGRAPH

  Angela Macari

  It was the last week in November and I was making a Christmas cake. Suddenly an incoming text made me jump. I cursed the interruption, stopped what I was doing and looked at the message.

  It was Angie, a former school pal I hadn’t seen in fifteen years. She had met my sister and asked if she could have my number. I was shocked, but elated too as I read the text. She wanted to call me, but was unsure if it was a good moment. It wasn’t but I feared that if I didn’t respond, I might never hear from her again. So, I said ‘Yes, call me please!’

  Tears flowed as I listened to a voice I thought I’d never hear again. We talked of our lives. She mentioned that she was moving away from Dublin in a week. How sad we had only rediscovered each other and she was moving away. We arranged to meet and when the day arrived I was very excited, wondering would I recognise her. But I needn’t have worried, for there outside Trinity College stood my friend, a little older but with the same big smile and blonde hair. We hugged and soon made our way to ‘The Bank’, her favourite place. We ordered lunch and chatted, exchanging updates about characters from our mutual patch, the Liberties. So much had changed. There were sad tales of chums who died and happier ones too. Angie updated me on some of our old teachers with whom she kept in touch. The afternoon flew by and as we tottered to our buses, we vowed to meet again.

  When Angie had settled into her new home, I went for a visit. On a frosty December day, I drove to her beautiful new house to meet her partner and family. I was given the red carpet treatment and a sumptuous dinner. Again we talked and she showed me around her lovely town, stopping off for a drink or two. I returned the invitation and just before Christmas, Angie came to me and m
et my husband, son and my two dear cats. Life was changing for me now that I’d found a piece of my youth and a vital link in the chain of my life.

  A few months passed before I saw Angie again. I met another girl from the Liberties, one evening while shopping, I spotted her at the checkout and I touched her arm as she was going towards her car. As soon as she recognised me, she threw her arms around me. Grainne had been at school with Angie and me. We hadn’t been close, but I always liked her. We exchanged numbers and email addresses. She asked had I met anyone from our old area and I told her about Angie. She was intrigued and said she had been trying to organise a school reunion for years.

  After a few emails, texts and some planning, the three of us met at Angie’s house on a Sunday afternoon. During the laughter, stories and a delicious feast of lasagne, followed by strawberries, Grainne showed us some old photographs. She asked if I could see myself. I searched for a minute and soon spotted my dark hair, with my white ribbon, my partially hidden face among forty five innocent, wide eyed six year olds. I vaguely remembered some and tried to remember names.

  At the back of the group stood our nun, the Maria Von Trapp of Warren Mount Convent, her hands joined gracefully and a smile on her face. Sr.Therese was an angel. We had her in senior infants for only a few months. Rumour has it that she fell in love and left the convent to get married. At home that night I looked at the black and white picture of my class. I still can’t remember them all. I spotted one bully, who often pinched me. How tiny and innocent she looks to me now. I also saw Grainne in the front row, beside the other Grainne who was an equally beautiful girl. They were known as the two Grainnes and we were the two Angies.

  It’s a piece of the jigsaw of my life, this one from forty years ago. This photograph has given me inspiration, because it holds memories of childhood that were obliterated, when I lost my home in a tragic fire in 1986. This, like many of my experiences carved me into who I am today and the once shy six year old in the photograph, now drives a double deck bus. Who would have guessed? Each time I look, I recognise one more face and say a little prayer for her wherever she is. Maybe they do the same for me!

  TRAIN-JACKED

  Thomas Carroll

  “I went to bed at twenty past nine last night and listened to the radio; it’s much better than the television” John said, as the early morning train passed by fields covered in a blanket of snow.

  “You’re much better than I am; at least you manage to get into bed early. Me, I’m up half the night watching DVD’s. You know how mad into movies I am,” Mike said. John smiled as the food and snack trolley approached.

  “Don’t know how Laura ever puts up with me. Guess she really does love me, warts and all,” Mike said as he sipped his too hot coffee. Suddenly the interior lights of the train went dark. The darkness only lasted five seconds, like going through a short tunnel. When the lights returned the man who was pushing the tea trolley was holding a semi-automatic.

  “Alright, everyone just stay calm and stay sitting where you are. Don’t move from your seats and no one will get hurt,” said the man in a very military voice. He levelled the weapon just above his waistline. A woman sitting in front of John and Mike began to cry and sob out loud. Another man carrying a semi-automatic came through the walkway from the next carriage and offered the woman a tissue.

  “This train will not be going to Grand Central. Instead we’ll be taking a slight detour to Chicago,” the first man said. “You may talk amongst yourselves and feel free to have refreshments from the tea trolley. But before you do anything I want everyone to hand over their mobile phones, wallets and any weapons.”

  “We’re going to have to do something,” Mike said in a low voice. “We can’t just sit here and let these bastards take over.”

  “It’s been a while since our military service in the Gulf and I’m not sure I want to tackle what sounds like ex-military people turned terrorists,” John said.

  “Don’t worry, just stay calm and let’s see if these punks have a weak spot or two,” Mike said.

  Night had fallen and the train continued on its diverted way towards Chicago. Some of the passengers had fallen asleep; while others were too worried to do so. The sight of an armed man in every carriage was more than enough to prevent the majority of people from getting some shuteye.

  “I’ve figured a way of maybe putting the odds a bit more in our favour. See that tea trolley parked up at the end of the carriage. Well if one of us could poison the tea and coffee with something like Epsom salts, there is a high chance these dudes would get the shits like never before,” John said as he eased four small sachets from inside his jacket.

  “Yeah, but what about if some of the people drink the stuff as well. Won’t that mean we could have one hell of a rush for the bathroom,” Mike said with a touch of humour in his eyes.

  “That’s a chance were going to have to take. At least it’s only super strong Epsom salts, not hydrochloric acid,” John said. Suddenly the barrel of an automatic rifle was millimetres away from Mike’s face.

  “You two are doin’ an awful lot of talkin’. How about you shut your traps and get some sleep,” the terrorist said with a gruff voice. John and Mike both nodded and pretended to fall asleep. They should have known that professional soldiers usually cover every angle of opportunity. The Gulf and Afghan wars taught them that lesson. Like a lot of things in life, even soldiers can get rusty, especially off duty ones.

  “I’m going to the bathroom. Jesus I can hardly hold it!” Mike said clutching his crotch. John looked at him in amusement.

  “Excuse me, but I need to have a pee,” Mike said to the man holding the automatic.

  “Ok. Off you go bud. Don’t spend too long in there.” Once inside the tiny bathroom, Mike quickly opened the four sachets of extra strong Epsom salts and emptied their contents into his false bladder. The white flaky powder was now mixed with very yellow urine. It began to fizz with little bubbles of white froth. He also mixed in five small packets of salt. Mike smiled as he thought how potent this concoction would be. Before opening the bathroom door Mike readied himself for action. With a groan Mike staggered out of the little room. He was bent over both hands seeming to clutch his crotch. “Oh Christ I need a doctor”, he winced.

  “What’s up …” said the gunman looking bemused. But that was all he had time to say. Mike lunged upright and sprayed the foaming contents of his false bladder at the man. Instantly the gunman fell backwards firing his weapon at the ceiling which made the lights go out. Clutching his face he screamed obscenities at Mike.

  “You fucking bastard I’ll …” John gave the man a sharp kick in the stomach which prevented him finishing his sentence. John swiped the gun from the floor and pointed it at the man who was in a state of agony as he held his hands over his face which had turned a raw red colour. The lights flickered on again but were not as bright this time. Suddenly glass exploded from the door behind Mike. The other gunman was running towards this carriage. Just as he reached the start of the carriage an old man put out his walking stick and sent the gunman crashing onto the floor. A live grenade rolled forward. Without hesitating the old man fell on top of it. There was a muffled thud as his body jumped slightly while absorbing the force of the explosion.

  John was busy shooting at the third gunman who was getting closer to their carriage. Most of the windows had been shot out. The cold night’s air blew in. Mike fired several rounds from the automatic he picked up when the second gunman had fallen. A woman who had been hiding in the bathroom rushed out screaming hysterically, bullets ripped into her back and front and for five seconds her body remained upright as both Mike and the gunman continued firing. Her bloodied body collapsed onto the floor; immediately the gunman’s automatic jammed. Instantly Mike fired his weapon the man jolted back into a seat, blood pouring from his head. Several other people also lay slumped in their seats apparently killed in the shootout. The carriage was a mess of dead bodies and broken window glass; most of the l
ights were shot out. The remaining passengers in Mike and John’s carriage peered nervously over their seats and hoped the siege had come to an end.

  But there was still one more gunman. He was holding the train driver hostage in the engine at the very front of the train.

  “I’ll take care of this one,” John said as he hurriedly made his way out through a blown out window and onto the roof of the carriage.

  “Be careful,” Mike called after him. Bullets whizzed past John as he crawled along the roof of the locomotive. He could make out the shape of the gunman as he leaned out of the door of the train engine. John returned fire, missing the gunman each time. John was now directly over the cab. He knew he would have only one chance to get it right. All his special forces training had prepared him for moments like this. Swinging his body he shot into the cab feet first, catching the gunman in the face. The man almost fell out the other door of the cab. His automatic lay on the floor. Scooping up the weapon John fired point blank into the man’s face. He disappeared into the dawn that had begun to break.

  “You alright buddy?” John asked the terrified train driver who had sought refuge on the floor of the small cab.

  “I’ll survive. Got a few bruises, but I’ll make it,” said the driver as blood trickled from his nose and mouth. The train was brought to a safe stop and moments later police rescue teams along with TV cameras arrived.

  Mike and John were both awarded medals for bravery by the US Army and were personally thanked by the train company for their quick thinking. The passengers were also grateful and John and Mike received many letters of appreciation for their bravery.