Me Jewel and Darlin' Dublin

By Éamonn MacThomáis

Full of historical facts, anecdotes and Dublin wit, this book evokes the spirit, the characters and colours, the sights, sounds and even the smells of old Dublin. With sections on markets, pawn shops, street characters, the Liberties, slang and wit of Dublin's newspapers, the city's history is traced right back to Brian Boru, the Huguenots, the 'debtors' prison', and Dublin's troubled history of risings and revolutions.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The O'Brien Press
• Release date: Mar 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781847177766

Éamonn MacThomáis

Éamonn MacThomáis (13 January 1927–16 August 2002) was an author, broadcaster, historian,  Irish Republican , advocate of the  Irish language  and lecturer. He presented his own series on Dublin on  RTÉ  during the 1970s and was well known for guided tours of and lectures on his beloved Dublin. He is buried in Dublin's Glasnevin Cemetery.

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About this Book

FULL OF HISTORICAL FACTS

, anecdotes and Dublin wit, this book evokes the spirit, the characters and colours, the sights, sounds and even the smells of old Dublin. With sections on markets, pawn shops, street characters, the ‘liberties’, slang and wit and Dublin’s newspapers, the city’s history is traced right back to Brian Boru, the Huguenots, the ‘debtors’ prison’, and Dublin’s troubled history of risings and revolutions.

ME JEWEL AND DARLIN’ DUBLIN

Éamonn MacThomáis

illustrated by

MICHAEL O’BRIEN

for Melíosa, my daughter

Contents

About this Book

Title Page

Dedication

Publisher’s Foreword

Introduction

1AChild’sWorld

THE FOURPENNY RUSH

A DUBLIN PENNY

STREET GAMES

2TheOldWays

THE PAWNSHOPS OF DUBLIN

THE COMEDY KING

STREET CHARACTER

SOME DUBLIN SLANG

SOUNDS, SMELLS AND COLOURS

DUBLIN’S OLD NEWSPAPERS

3OldDublinTown

DUBLIN’S MANY LIBERTIES

AROUND ST. WERBURGH’S

FORD OF HURDLES

4CommercialLife

BACK OF THE PIPES

MERCHANTS AND MARKETS

A TRIP DOWN THE PORT

5Hidden Places

AROUND ST. MARY’S ABBEY

THE FIVE LAMPS

THE ROYAL CIRCUS

PHOENIX PARK

THE KING’S COWBOY

OLD KILMAINHAM

6TheCityCentre

ST. STEPHEN’S GREEN

TRINITY COLLEGE

AROUND COLLEGE GREEN

DUBLIN’S REVOLUTIONARY SQUARE

Index

About the Author

Other Books

Copyright

Publisher’s Foreword

TWENTY YEARS A-PUBLISHING

THIS IS A VERY SPECIAL BOOK TO ME

. It was the very first book to carry The O’Brien Press imprint. The Press was founded in the previous year by my father Thomas O’Brien and myself. Me Jewel was launched in The Stag’s Head, Dublin on 15 November 1974, without the author, as he was a guest of the nation in Portlaoise Jail! Most of the book was written in Mountjoy, following Eamonn’s conviction for being editor of An Phoblacht (which caused quite a controversy at the time). I collected the book, hand-written in a series of ‘ledgers’ when I visited Eamonn in the ‘Joy’ – what a start to a publishing career! In a letter to my father (15/8/1973) Eamonn wrote ‘James Joyce locked himself in the tower at Sandycove for twelve months to write his book – I don’t see much difference between the tower and Mountjoy.’

Rosaleen, Eamonn’s wife, launched the first edition in his absence, and it’s been in print ever since, in various editions, shapes and colours. The first edition was in hardback at £4.20, and it was an instant success. Despite obstructions put in our way, from strange quarters, the great Dublin public loved it.

Before I became a publisher I lived as an artist, mainly drawing views of Dublin, and so these drawings were used to illustrate the first edition of the book. For this anniversary edition, published exactly twenty years later, we have added some new illustrations, dropped some of the originals and revised the text.

The first edition was printed by E & T O’Brien, of 11 Clare Street, Dublin, a company founded by my father in 1948, where myself, and several sisters and a brother, and indeed my mother Ann, worked over the years. This printing operation continues today as O’Brien Printing, run by my brother Dermot and his family.

Eamonn of course received a copy of the first edition, and here is an extract from what he wrote:

Portlaoise jail, Sunday17 November’74 … I was with you in spirit in the Stag’s Head … I’m holding my own little press conference in my cell, so far I’ve had twelve with about ten at each conference …

This edition marks the twentieth anniversary of The O’Brien Press and sadly also the twentieth anniversary of my father’s death – he died on 7 December 1974, and would be eighty if he was alive today.

Looking back over that twenty years, and after publishing nearly 500 books, I’m pleased that my decision was to continue with the Press. I thank all those who helped, and in particular my wonderful colleagues. My mother is alive to help us celebrate, and so is Éamonn MacThomáis, who can now at last attend the relaunch of this new edition after all that time.

Michael O’Brien, October 1994

High Street, once the main street of Dublin, where most of the original buildings have now been demolished, and new development has taken place. The front of St. Audeon’s Church appears in the centre of the drawing.

Introduction

TWENTY YEARS AGO I SAT DOWN

in my prison cell – No. 28 D Wing – twenty paces from the hanghouse where Kevin Barry went to his death on 1 November 1920, and I asked myself: What will I do to pass the time?

Some of the prisoners were making wallets, handbags and other lovely leather products. Others were constructing harps, houses and crosses with matchsticks. Others still were painting handkerchiefs in colours of the rainbow. But none of these fine things was for me. I was a dunce at school and I was still a dunce with no skill in my hands, no skills in my mind, hopeless with paints or matchsticks, except when I used to race matchsticks down the gutter on a rainy day in old Kilmainham. My matchsticks were always among the first three – that was because I half-broke them and this gave them a better chance to float in the rainwater and move swiftly along to the winning post at Jenkin’s corner shop at the end of the steep hill. Then I got to thinking about my childhood, the people I had met, the places I had seen, about Dublin and its people.

I opened up my writing pad and took out a long sheet of shiny paper and an envelope and I penned my first letter from Mountjoy.

Dear Mr O’Brien,

I know that you know me and I sort of know you and I think we met on a few occasions. Anyway, you know where I am now and I was thinking of writing a book, yes, a book about Dublin and its people. I haven’t a title for the book yet but I’m working on a few ideas. The contents would be as follows: The opening chapter would be the Fourpenny Rush through a child’s eyes, a Dublin Penny and Street Games. Then the book would move along into the old ways of Pawnshops, Comedy Kings, Newspapers, Slang and Street Characters. Street Characters like Bang Bang, Hairy Lemon, The Yank Patterson and Shell-shock Joe and Mary All Parcels and Nancy Needleballs. I would then see the Dublin skyline in all its beauty and colour. The spires and domes, green and brown, would lead me into the Sound, Smell and Colour of Dublin. The Liberties would get special mention and all the historical greats. I’d like to include a few special places like the Back of the Pipes, the Five Lamps, the Port of Dublin and the Phoenix Park. The closing would be in my late Mother’s Dublin – St Stephen’s Green and the great scholarship of College Green, the Old Parliament House and Trinity College, with the last words to the Revolutionaries like yourself and myself.

I await your reply and advice on this matter.

Is mise,

Le Mór Mór Mheas,

Éamonn Mac Thomáis.

A few days later I received my first letter in Mountjoy Jail. It was from Tommy O’Brien. I read the letter more than fifty times, over and over, again and again. He could have been my father, he could have been my brother, he could have been my best friend. His letter was one of the most welcome letters I have ever received in my life. The opening lines were all magic:

Dear Éamonn,

I can see it now. I can feel it now. It’s a book that will live forever. People won’t want to read it, they’ll be satisfied just to read the chapter titles. Start right away. I can’t wait to see the Dublin Penny and all it did long ago.

Well, that letter from Tommy O’Brien gave me more inspiration than the warpipe music gave to Silken Thomas’s followers in Meeting House Lane, when he threw down the Sword of State on the Chapter House Table.

That night I opened my copy-book in my cell. Even though I was far from being a monk, I did call on God for a blessing on my words, on my pen, on my ink and on my paper. And maybe, too, if He wasn’t too busy, He might help me with the title for the book.

Many, many sleepless nights later, after many nightmares, many twistings and many turnings, I awoke one morning. The sun was shining in my window, the dust was rising in the breeze under the cell door. The mice sure were squealing, and the Old Triangle was going jingle-jangle at two to the dozen, and all the time the title of the book was running around in my mind. At times I tried to put it to the music of ‘The Old Triangle’ because the Triangle is a very pleasant musical sound. Yes, yes, yes, it’s Me Jewel and Darlin’ Dublin. The jewels are the buildings and the places, and the darlin’s are the characters, the people. In James Connolly’s words: ‘Dublin without her people means nothing to me.’ Me Jewel and Darlin’ Dublin – the title and the first chapter were on their way to the great Tommy O’Brien.

Within a day or two, a young man with a very black beard called to see me. He was, of course, the one and only Michael O’Brien, artist, and son of Tommy. Well, without Tommy the book would never have been written, and without Michael the book would never have been printed and published. Oh, how he fought for my manuscripts at the jail gates. The courage of the father Tommy was well matched by the courage of the son Michael.

Looking back now, it seems like a thousand years between my first letter to Tommy and the publishing of the book. It was the longest year of my life. Without my wife, Rosaleen, I don’t think I could have stuck the combined pressure of jail and of the writing. But her every word, her every smile, her every glance was one of: Keep going, Éamonn, we are with you all the way.

Now it’s all twenty years ago and my! my! my! how Dublin has changed. From time to time I miss places and people on the streets. Places like Maguire and Gatchell’s in Dawson Street, Baxendale’s in Capel Street, Henshaw’s of Christ Church Place and many others. Now, when Michael O’Brien asked me to re-read Me Jewel and Darlin’ Dublin with a view to bringing out a revised edition, I was greatly surprised to see so many changes in so many places and to notice how the smells of Dublin have changed as well. So, with my hearing-aid well tuned up with new batteries and my bi-focal glasses well-polished, I set out on my very own private walking tour of Dublin streets, noting the changes, sniffing the airs, listening to the sounds and looking at the skyline and the lovely, unexpected views that Dublin has always had to offer the discerning eye – Smithfield, the Whiskey chimney, St Mary of the Angel’s, St Michan’s, St John’s, St Paul’s. Then down to the Markets, where there were Cox’s Pippins, cabbages, spuds – Kerr’s Pinks and Records – green peppers, flowers, plants, and eggs, eggs and more eggs, but not a sign of Carton’s, Dodd’s or the Daisy Market. So I had more than my work cut out for me, with my scissors here and my rubber there, and my pen and my notebooks all the way from China to Hector Grey’s Company in Liffey Street, I set out on my journey down Dublin’s streets to record the city, past and present, once again for the new Dubs and the new visitors, in a 1994 special edition of Me Jewel and Darlin’ Dublin. So I hope you like it. If not, please keep your breath for cooling your porridge!

Éamonn Mac Thomáis

Lá Fhéile Naomh Pádraig, 1994

Chapter 1

A Child’s World

THE FOURPENNY RUSH

FIRST IT WAS THE TWOPENNY RUSH,

then the Threepenny Rush and, when they got the picture house painted and new woodeners and cushioners installed, it went up to the Fourpenny Rush.

My friend Bonker said that the price now was ‘universal.’

‘What does that mean?’ we asked. ‘All over the world,’ said Bonker, ‘it’s fourpence everywhere. It’s something to do with the union.’ But we were never able to figure out what the South Dublin Union – St. James’s Hospital for the poor – had to do with the price of the pictures on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon.

The Fourpenny Rush in the local cinemas kept the kids off the streets. It taught them what they never learned in school. It was a college in memory training because every kid could tell you, line for line and act for act, all about the Big Picture or the Follier-Upper (serial picture).

An hour before the show started a queue would form. The ushers would beat the children back with leather belts. ‘Keep in line, keep in line,’ they shouted as the sweat rolled off their brows. It was quite an effort trying to handle a thousand children pushing and shoving, pulling pigtails, throwing orange peels and clutching dearly to the fourpence admission fee.

Bonker was right. It was fourpence everywhere as we toured the local cinemas of Dublin. They were: the ‘Core’ at Inchicore, the ‘Ri’ (Rialto) and the ‘Leinster’ at Dolphin’s Barn, the ‘Fountain’ in James’s Street, the ‘Tivo’ in Francis Street, the ‘Mayro’ in Mary Street, the ‘Phoeno’ on the quays and the ‘Broad’ or the ‘Manor’ in Manor Street. All these cinemas have since been closed, except for the ‘Tivo’ which is now the Tivoli Theatre, run by Tony Byrne.

Sometimes we went into town to the Pillar cinema or the Grand Central in O’Connell Street or around to the Masterpiece or the New Electric in Talbot Street. At other times, we would take our custom to the Camden or the ‘Lux’ (De-Luxe) in Camden Street or the Green in St. Stephen’s Green. Now and then we ventured out as far as the Stella and the ‘Prinner’ (Princess) on the Rathmines Road, nearly facing ‘Homeville’ where I was born. It was Shanks’s mare there and back from our homes in Kilmainham. If we had a penny to spend, the last thing we’d spend it on was a tram or a bus. Wet or fine, we walked everywhere.

The hero in the picture was known as ‘the Chap’. He always had a ‘Pal’ and a dog or a horse which could do tricks. They all got a roaring standing ovation, while the head crook and the other crooks all got a hiss and a boo. We hated love pictures. What we liked best were Gene Autry, Tom Mix, Roy Rogers, Buck Jones and Tarzan because they never kissed girls. No matter how tough the fight, Gene Autry never lost his hat – and he could kill twelve Indians with one shot out of his gun.

Best for laughs were Wheeler and Wolsey, Charlie Chaplin, the Keystone Cops, Pop-Eye and his girlfriend Olive Oyle and Laurel and Hardy (‘This is another nice mess you’ve got me into, Stanley.’) Although we hated girls, Shirley Temple was different and we all saw ‘The Little Princess’ three times. Dublin had its own Shirley Temple contest and a little girl from the road where I lived was in the first ten.

The former Tivoli Cinema, Francis Street, currently in use as a theatre.

The outstanding greats of those days were ‘Boys’ Town’ with Mickey Rooney and Spencer Tracey, the Dead End Kids in ‘Angels with Dirty Faces’, James Cagney and ‘The Roaring Twenties’, ‘The Bolero’ with George Raft, ‘Northwest Passage’, ‘Mr. Stanley and Dr. Livingstone’, ‘Jesse James’, ‘The Daltons Ride Again’, and ‘Charlie Chan’. We also loved Peter Lorre in detective pictures, ‘Murder at the Wax Museum’ and the wonderful singing pictures of Nelson Eddy and Jeanette McDonald.

The ice-skating queen, Sonja Heinie, starred in the film ‘One in a Million’. The nearest we ever got to an ice-rink was when the dog pond froze over in the winter. It was a far cry from Torville and Dean, though now there are skating rinks in Phibsborough and Dolphin’s Barn.

The local cinema was more than a picture house. It was a community centre, a place to kill a few hours, something to look forward to, a chance for your mother to