On the Banks of the Awbeg

by David P O'Regan.

Doneraile is 7 miles from Mallow and 29 miles from Cork. It is quite a small town with a population of 710. It is pleasantly situated on the River Awbeg, a branch of the Blackwater. The town stands on the northern slope of Knockahur hill, which rises by a gentle slope from the river and gradually ascends to a rocky eminence. However, it was not this rocky eminence but one near the graveyard of Oldcourt which together with an ancient fort built thereon, gave the town its name, Doneraile, i.e. "Dun-are-Fhaill", meaning "the fort on the cliff." Although the countryside around Doneraile is very beautiful, its main interest lies in its wealth of historical associations. Spenser, the poet, made the district famous in his epic, the "Faerie Queene". Also, the much-storied St. Leger family has its seat here. Moreover, many famous Churchmen ministered in the Parish of Doneraile. Dr. Croke, who subsequently became Archbishop of Cashel and Emly, was parish priest here from 1866 to 1870. A century and a half before that Father Owen O'Keefe, the poet, was pastor of Doneraile. "An tAthair Peadar Ó Laoghaire," prolific author in the Irish language, served as Curate in this parish from 1884 to 1891. In recent years the mention of Doneraile invariably recalls memories of Canon Sheehan, the celebrated priest-author. (The above extract is from a booklet written by J. Anthony Gaughan called DONERAILE; published c. 1967 by KAMAC Publications).

A description of Doneraile in Arthur Young's tour in Ireland (1776 – 1779)

To Lord Doneraile, to whom I am indebted for a variety of useful intelligence; the situation of his house is on a beautiful rising ground, which slopes down to a winding vale, in which is a small river, accompanied by wood; from this river, on the other side, the grounds (all lawn) rise very boldly, are entirely margined with wood: from the higher grounds the view of the house and the park is fine, especially at the gate which opens to Kilbrack, there the house is seen surrounded by very noble woods and a great variety of cultivated enclosures intermixed with fields and thickly planted hedges: the whole scene is pleasing, that it appears to full advantage, though I had rode to it through a beautiful and even-dressed country in part of the way from Annsgrove. Near the house is a shrubbery, through which there are paths that lead to different parts of the farm, through new plantations, and in particular to a cottage, from whence there is a fine wooded scene, with the park lawn rising above it, scattered with single trees, and bounded by a margin of wood; the whole backed by distant mountains. The plantations and improvements which lead to and surround this cottage are the work of Lady Doneraile and do credit to her taste.

Main Street long ago!

An extract from SLATER’S NATIONAL DIRECTORY OF IRELAND 1846 DONERAILE, Co. Cork

My Parents Denis O’Regan & Alice Moynihan on Honeymoon

Here I was born on the 26th July 1924. At that time, my parents by the name of Denis and Alice O'Regan (nee Moynihan) were living in the building situated in the middle of the Main Street, which is the present Post Office. This house was purchased by my grandfather's sisters in law (the Dunne family). He had been evicted from his farm at Dromdeer due to non-payment of rent. It would seem that the cattle all died of Red Water disease (murrain?). His father (Michael) before him had been evicted from his farm at Rossagh, also for non-payment of rent.

The house on the main street had been (I think) a public house and possibly a bakery. My earliest memories of the house are of my father running the pub. I can still see my grandfather David after whom I am called, sitting on the edge of a large table in the room off the shop. This room had been the dining room and kitchen before a new extension was built at the back of the house.

My grandfather suffered from rheumatism and found it difficult to sit in a chair. He was known to all and sundry as 'Boss'. He always seemed to be dressed in a rather long frock coat and a white shirt with stand-up starched collar. He died (February 22nd 1933) when I was about nine. He never seemed to suffer from any illness and died at the grand old age of 92. In his last days he was nursed by my mother and in his delirium often called her Mary (his late wife's name). My cousin Shelagh Clancy (O'Sullivan) reminded me of the occasion when she and I were told to sit by his bed and keep an eye on him. When he fell out of the bed we ran away. Mary (his wife) had died of a `fever` probably at Dromdeer. I can remember him winding up his large clock every evening. In fine weather he used to sit on the window ledge outside the front of the house. I remember peeping through a small window into the shop when he was lying in his coffin. His funeral made a deep impression on me, as there was a very heavy fall of snow in that month of February 1933. The gravediggers had great difficulty in keeping the grave free of snow.

Funerals were always of great interest. When the farmers brought their milk to the creamery every morning they would buy a copy of the 'Cork Examiner'. At that time the papers had advertisements on the front page and the inside page was given over to Deaths, Births and Marriages and In Memoriam notices. This was the first page to be read. The news of any local death would be quickly broadcast to all and sundry. Attendance at funerals was one of the highlights of the parish activities. For the funeral of a well-known person everybody would be in attendance. Your popularity was measured by the numbers who attended your funeral. We used to count the number of cars (or in those days pony traps). The bigger the number the more the deceased was thought of.

Doneraile main street; green house on left where I was born. The first house on left was owned by Dora Kirwan (my mother's sister) and her husband Richard. Here my mother was reared by her much older sister after the death of their mother.

The Wake

In those days there were no 'funeral parlours'. The preparation of the body was done by local women. They would come to the house and after washing the body, would dress the corpse in a 'habit'. This was, I believe, the Franciscan Third Order habit. This could be bought from the local draper. It was brown for a man and blue for a woman. The hands would be crossed and a rosary entwined in the hands. On a small table by the bedside would be a crucifix and two candles. The brass candlesticks would often be borrowed from a neighbour. Then the family and neighbours would call to pay their respects. You would first approach the nearest relative and express your condolences by saying 'sorry for your trouble'. You would then kneel by the corpse and say a few prayers. Plenty of food and drink would be available for callers. The wake would always last for at least one night. The body would be taken to the church the following evening, where it would remain until the funeral next day. In my parish it was not customary for a funeral Mass to be said (except in the case of priests or relatives of priests). The funeral would take place about 2 p.m. The usual burial place was Old Court about half a mile from the town.

As a child I remember that a hearse, drawn by two horses was used. The horseman at the time was Paddy Spratt. The priests and the horseman were always dressed in a special uniform. This consisted of a band of linen cloth worn like a stole over one shoulder and a smaller band around the hat. These 'dresses' as they were called, were usually made of linen, but in the case of the poor might be of cotton. After the funeral they were donated to the local convent to be made into altar cloths. It was usual for all the priests (at that time four) to attend the funeral, so the provision of 'dresses' could be a very expensive business. My theory about the meaning of the dresses is that Priests were not allowed to wear full clerical dress and so used these "dresses" instead. Thankfully the distinction about funerals of different classes of people was abolished in recent times. Only the rich could afford to have all the priests; the poor would have just one. The offering for each priest was 7/6 (about 40c). The gravediggers got 2/6 (15c) each. With all the food and drink provided for the wake and funeral, dying was an expensive business.

My uncle (by marriage) Richard (Dixie) O`Shea was the local undertaker and also made his own coffins. I spent many a pleasant hour in his workshop watching him making coffins and seeing how he would bend the sides by making cuts in the sidepieces so that they would bend without breaking. His wife, my Aunt Cecelia ("Ciss") would put the finishing touches to the lining. Dixie would engrave the name and date of death on a brass plate to be affixed to the cover. Coffins came in different kinds of wood. The better off would always specify oak. The same people were not always so forthcoming when it came to paying. Farmers especially, would make you wait until harvest time. Sometimes they would make excuses to postpone paying and then it was up to my Aunt Ciss to act as debt-collector. An oak coffin, to the best of my recollection, cost about £8.

Aunt Ciss, Mary and Alice

As mentioned above, the hearse was drawn by two horses. The hearse was provided by my uncle Dixie. It was a beautiful sight to see the horses striding down the street. The priest would walk in front of the hearse and the mourners followed behind with a big proportion of the parish. It was customary to carry the coffin on the shoulders of the nearest relatives and friends as far as the bridge, which straddled the Awbeg. Everybody walked at least as far as the bridge. Indeed most people walked all the way. Only the elderly got into their transport for the rest of the journey. For most people their place of burial place was Oldcourt. I don't know the origin of the name but it contained the ruins of an old church. This was probably the ruin of the pre-reformation church. Maybe this church had some connection with a holy well dedicated to St Coneela,which was on the banks of the Awbeg a short distance away. We used to go there as kids and tie ribbons to an adjacent tree. A tributary of the Awbeg called the Bregogue flowed near one end of the graveyard and a small promontory overlooking it was said to be where the town of Doneraile (Dun are Aill –the fort on the cliff) got it's name. The original name of the parish or town land was Rossfoyle – meaning the fort on the promontory. In my younger days the graveyard was extended and became known as the 'new ground'. This had to be extended again in recent years. My parents and sister Mary are buried in the new ground.

Doneraile - my home town

As mentioned above the name probably comes from Dun ar aill (the fort on the cliff). It can hardly be called a town, rather a large village. Built on the banks of the Awbeg (Small River), which later joins the Blackwater (the Awa Mor –or big river) at Castletownroche, it boasts of but one street. To us youngsters it seemed to be a very wide street and was in those days of few cars, our playground. Built on the edge of the Doneraile Estate most of the houses were the property of the Estate. In recent years after the death of the last Lord Doneraile, many of the residents were allowed to buy out their ground rent. The house where I was born was originally purchased for less than £40 (that was for the leasehold).I have the original receipt. It was a stone built house and originally had, beside the shop, only one room, which was the family’s kitchen/ dining room, plus extra drinking room for the customers of the pub. At the time my father got married he roofed over a ruin at the back and made it into a kitchen/dining room. A tap outside the kitchen provided running water. The toilet at the end of the yard served family and customers. Upstairs there was a parlour and one bedroom. As the family grew this bedroom was divided into two and the parlour became our parents bedroom. It was many years before an indoor toilet was installed and running water installed in the kitchen. The one room adjacent to the bar had an open fire fuelled by turf and timber. To get the fire blazing you had to turn a bellows besides the fire. I often saw customers, in the wintertime, heating up a poker to red-hot and plunging it into their glass of Guinness.

In those days most people drank stout and in most pubs that meant Guinness. A pint cost 9d old money. When the price went up to 1/- (5p) there was almost a riot. Most women drinkers (there were a few in pubs even then – they mostly wore shawls – very handy for hiding the glass) preferred a half-pint but always called a "medium"; I don’t know why. If they could afford it, the men, and especially the women would have a 'drop of whiskey' (a half glass). The women liked a drop of peppermint or raspberry cordial in theirs to make it more palatable and probably to mask the smell. They often asked for a pinch of "tay" (tea), which they would chew for the same purpose. The publican could never charge for these mixers, so the profit was small. Arthur Guinness always demanded payment in advance whereas the poor publican often had to put the charge on the "slate". And frequently a customer would spend three hours over a pint. Most business was done in the evening between 8 p.m. and 11 p.m. Sunday was strict closing but customers claiming to be travellers (coming over three miles) could be served drink. The locals often pretended to be travellers. So one had to keep one eye out for the roving "guard". It was every publican's nightmare to hear a knock on the door and hear the call - "guards on public house duty". If caught he could get an endorsement on his licence but the customers were fined a mere 1/-. Life was certainly no bed of roses for the publican but there were few other ways of making a living. There were at least a dozen pubs in that small village and I know half a dozen more, which had closed down in the recent past. After my father died at an early age my mother kept the pub going but hated every minute of it. When she could take no more she sold the licence. I think that was the happiest day of her life.

O’Regan pub; Main Street; Doneraile. (Patrick & Marie O’Regan) John B. Keane the writer used this pub. It is worth reading Chapter vi of his “self portrait” for his views on running a pub.

Steam engine with threshing machine

Alice

Doneraile Characters

The following information is from a newspaper cutting (possibly from the HOLLY BOUGH) and signed W.R. (William Roche?)

Other characters I have known

Paddy Connell had a "hotel" on Convent Road. (Known then as Buttevant Lane.) This was more like a hostel where the men of the road and those who had little money could get a room. I think the charge was 1/- (5p) a night. I don't think the accommodation was very luxurious.

Johnny Hanlon had a hardware shop – mostly glass supplies and paint. He was said to have made his own coffin long before he died. Willie Fizzell was very artistic. He put on a display every Christmas that delighted us kids. In his shop window he erected what we called "Daddy" Christmas. This was a life-size figure, which could be made to move hands and head. We tormented Willie, asking him to move Santa's head and hands.

It was quite common to give nicknames to people. One very tall man was called "Tiny" Roche. Another was "Jack the Devil" (not to his face.) It was said that he was supposed to have died and on the way to the cemetery he knocked on the coffin! Another was known as "darky" due to his dark skin.

Another well-known character was A.H. Jones. He was the local chemist. He was said to have made a lot of money through inventing a cure for scour in cattle. It was called "Scour Specific". He also sold petrol. There were two pumps outside his shop. These were worked by turning a handle, which drew up the petrol into a glass measure. When the measure was full a handle was turned to release the petrol into the car tank. A.H. Jones was noted for his knowledge of antiques. He attended many auctions and stored his purchases in a house next to the Market House called "Mo Aras". It was with the said A.H. Jones that John B. Keane the writer got a job as apprentice chemist. I knew John as Sean as he used to frequent my mother's pub. He told many amusing stories about his employer and especially his housekeeper who kept John on starvation rations. Her usual dinner was "black-pudding". He said that without the free meals he got from the people, he would have starved. John lost his job when he dared ask for holiday pay. As Jones never took a holiday he could not see how anyone else needed one.

It was in a field at the back of Mr Jones house that the circus users erected their tent. The circus I remembered best was “John Duffy”. The field was known as "Jones Field". Houses have now been built on the site. Travelling fairs set up their stalls on the fairground near the Protestant Church. It was there I saw my first “movie” or “pictures” as we called them.

John B. Keane

You cannot mention the name Jones without mentioning the famous author John B. Keane. He was not of course famous when he was in Doneraile but he had started writing.

In his autobiography "Self Portrait" he tells of his time in Doneraile. In his own words;

I knew John Keane as Sean and remember him coming to our pub for a drink after work. He had great respect for my mother. When I wrote to him a few years ago he replied in the following words.

I believe Mary was so disgusted with one of John's efforts that she tore it up. I think he had to re-write it. Mary gave it the name “Sister Teresa’s Roses”.

Old Customs

The Doneraile Estate was strictly off bounds to the locals but many people took great delight in breaking those bounds. The agent Mr George Hamilton took great care to try and keep people out of the grounds. However the old women used to often go out of an evening to collect firewood. This was mainly made up of small branches, which had fallen off the trees. The bundle they brought home was called a "brusna" (from brus meaning broken pieces?). Another Irish word was "toisin". This was a twist of paper in which a shopkeeper would put small amounts of goods e.g., tea, and sugar. No plastic bags in those days! "Tuilleadh" was an extra grain of such things as tea added to the weighed amount. It is an Irish word meaning – more.

I have mentioned funerals already. An unusual custom at funerals was the tolling of the bell. As soon as the hearse was getting near to the church the bell was tolled. Nothing unusual in that but what was unusual was that there were two rings for a woman and three for a man! The nearer the hearse got to the church the closer together were the tolls – this gave the locals time to get to the church before the hearse arrived.

St Mary's Catholic Church

Church Events

Weddings nearly always took place on a Saturday morning. After the wedding the couple would throw a fistful of coins to the people outside the church. This was for luck.

Baptisms took place twice a week on Wednesday and Saturday. The reason was it seems, to make sure that children would not die before being baptised. I was baptised on a Wednesday. Infant mortality was high. The mother never attended the baptism. She could not come to church until she had been "churched". This was a special blessing given to the mother.

Confirmation was administered every four years and the Bishop was always accompanied by a gaggle of Canons.

First Communion was made memorable for us as we got breakfast at the Convent. A boiled egg was the highlight of the breakfast.

Missions took place about every five years. The usual priests were the Redemptorists. There was always a week for the men and a week for the women. We children were supposed to stay at home with a parent. In practice we made full use of our freedom to roam the streets. A great attraction for us was the mission stalls where all kinds of religious articles were for sale. We had never seen such an array of rosary beads, scapulars, crucifixes and holy pictures. For our parents this was an opportunity to have a new rosary or holy picture blessed by the missioners on the last night of the mission. These particular missioners were noted for their hell-fire sermons. But although the sermons were fiery the missioners were noted for their compassion in confession.

Christian Brothers School And Monastery

Schools

For a small town Doneraile was fortunate in it's schools. The Presentation Convent was I believe the second foundation of the Order. It was for girls only but boys were admitted until they made their First Communion. As well as giving a sound education the nuns were very active in helping the less well--off of the parish. Even though at that time the nuns did not leave the Convent they knew quite a lot of what went on in the parish. In the early days girls were prepared for supporting themselves. Jobs in the professions were not then open to women. For years the school was noted for it's lace making. As many of the children were poor it was a godsend to get a cup of cocoa and bread with dripping every morning. After Vatican II the nuns were allowed out. This was indeed the wish of their Founder who had founded them to go into the homes of the poor.

For the boys there were the Christian Brothers who had a school next to the Parish Priest's home. Canon Sheehan had given them part of his garden as a building site. We always called the brothers the monks and their home the Monastery. They worked very hard to give boys a good education and prepare them for exams, which led to the professions like the Civil Service. I believe they lived a very Spartan life. They frequently borrowed my fathers’ bike, as they were not allowed to have one of their own.

Former pub and now Post Office. This is was where I was born.

Doneraile as I knew it

It was a town of many pubs and a few small shops. The biggest shop was that of John F. Murphy which housed a large drapery department. A.H. Jones had a chemist’s shop, which strangely also sold petrol. The well-known writer John B. Keane worked there as an apprentice chemist for a number of years. He tells his own story about those years. Jones was a Protestant (as were the leading people of the town and country). He went to all the auctions and bought a lot of furniture, which he later sold abroad. As a chemist he was the one most people went to for medical advice. This was free but you had to buy the medicine from him. Few could afford to consult the local GP (this was in my day Dr Gerry Sullivan). He ran a dispensary near to the Christian Brothers’ school.

Two other Protestants had shops. One Mr Mitchell owned DONERAILE STORES. One half of the shop was grocery and the other half hardware. He was well respected by everyone. A Mr Tidridge had a sweet shop. His wife was a Catholic. The Sheehan brothers owned two shops. Tom ran an upmarket grocery shop. Jack had a drapers shop. He had a sideline in breeding Irish terriers. The Post Office was run for many years by the Pratt family. This was also the telephone exchange. Few had telephones and if you wanted to make a call you had to go into the Post Office who would connect you. There was a telephone box in the shop. In later years a telephone was installed in the street outside.

I remember two tailors. Mick Quirke owned one on the Main Street. He made the outfits for the fox hunting folk. Another was Pat Piggott who had a shop in Buttevant Lane (now Convent Road).

John Aherne ran the Imperial Hotel. He had worked in America and so was known as “The Yank”. There were three butchers’ shops at that time. One was owned by the Blake brothers. Another was owned by their sister Hannie who later married Matt Keeffe. Next to Matt’s house was a shop owned by the Condon family. Tom was a clock maker. His daughter Cathy later took over the shop. She married Tom Sullivan who was a tailor. Molloys opened a butchers shop during my young days.