Times Past: The epic struggles of a Cootehill man abroad
Check out the latest installment of historian Jonathan Smyth's Times Past column...
THROUGHOUT the 19th century, Irishmen travelled to distant shores in search of employment, their labour helping to drive the industrial revolution that took hold around the world. Across the Irish Sea, they built canals and railways helping to export goods in greater quantities. They worked the mines and factories dotted around Scotland, England and Wales. However, life in the industrial age was not always kind to the migrant worker, especially when they became ill. In the early 1860s, a Cootehill native named Philip Smith, found himself an unlucky victim of circumstance as was reported in the Cavan Observer.
For nine years, Philip resided with his wife at their family home in Edinburgh until her death. Afterwards, he moved out of Edinburgh, finding a job on a railway line, and took lodgings in a house nearer to his new place of work. Smith lived there for the next four years until a knee injury prevented him from working. It was then, that the unfortunate man was dealt a very unkind blow by the law.
Out of work and without income to pay for rent or food, he applied to the local parish for ‘temporary relief which he got’, however, within a few days the police arrested Smith, dragging him before a magistrate who ordered that he should be sent back to Ireland. His knee had improved by the time of the order being made, but all pleadings to allow Smith to remain, and return to work were refused. Smith explained to the officer-in-charge that he had a brother in Belfast, ‘who would have paid everything for him’, but the authorities refused to listen and his request was refused. He was taken to Glasgow and put on a boat back to Ireland. Usually, the return of persons to Ireland was reserved for the poor and destitute rather than people who had a job.
Arriving in Belfast, Smith was ‘hurried off’ back to Cootehill by coach and dropped off in a state of hunger, having received nothing to eat from the time that he had left Glasgow. In desperation, he approached the workhouse at Cootehill, who were able to provide him with food. The workhouse board, consisting of Lieutenant-Colonel H.J. Clements DL, chair; W. Murray; Doctor McFadden; W. Daly, and T. Graham, were not at all impressed with the ‘bad treatment’ that the Cootehill man had received. They ordered their clerk to compose a letter of complaint for forwarding to the Scottish magistrates.
Meanwhile, Smith was permitted to travel back to Belfast, where he was re-united with his brother whom he said would supply him with necessary finance. It later emerged that his daughter, who had been on holiday with her uncle in Belfast, was unaware of her father’s deportation. Smith said, he ‘feared to stop’ in Cootehill, lest his daughter had returned to Edinburgh ‘in his absence’.
The dances held in Arva Parochial Hall are sure to bring back happy memories for a generation of local people. In February 1938, the Parish Priest formally opened St. Patrick’s Parochial Hall, Arva, at which some 600 persons attended. Of the events staged that night was a play, ‘The Far-off Hills’, by Arva Dramatic Troupe. Later, the same year, a dance hall licence was obtained, to be displayed prominently on the wall near the door for everyone to see.
Of a Sunday evening, a glance at the watch and a comb across the head meant most men were ready for the seven o’clock dance in the hall. Eager folk queued to enter, while inside the band tuned their instruments in preparation for a night’s craic. Voices chattered in excitement as coats were placed aside. Then there would be an eyeing around the room to see who had come along. Soft drinks were the only refreshments usually provided to the dancers as the evening wore on. The men crossed the room to the women asking if they’d have the next dance. Each person hoped to meet someone before the eleven o’clock closing time. Many a love affair blossomed in the hall, often followed by marriage.
In the late 1950s, the showband scene emerged, inspired by the rock ‘n’ roll antics of American musicians like Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly. The music fever caught on in Ireland and the showband era was born, as bands emerged countrywide, the likes of Clipper Carlton, Joe Dolan and the Drifters and The Mighty Avons enthralled the youth. In every town and village the young got together - often forming their own bands. The nostalgia of the dancehall remains to this day and the annual showband events held in hotels around the country remain highly popular.
However, not everyone was guaranteed to find a significant other at the dances. Some 500,000 people were estimated to have left Ireland between 1945 and 1960, and with emigration came shortage, leaving many men and women to face the future alone.
A frustrated farmer from Arva, in the 1950s faced the same problem, he could not find a wife! So, putting pen to paper he expressed his plight in the pages of The Anglo-Celt, writing that as a farmer owning 60 acres of land, he knew himself to be a good catch. Being in a ‘good position’ to marry, he tried every means possible to meet someone, but to no avail. Although on friendly terms with many of the ladies, he was unable to progress matters further, adding, ‘I do not blame the girls for this state of affairs; the real culprits are the glamour boys, the dance hall flirts, who steal the limelight and boast about all the girls they can meet, especially a stolen date with some other fellow’s girlfriend.’
‘Such men’, said the Arva local, ‘are a menace and the cause of many a good girl being left on the shelf.’ Emigration it seems, was not the only problem when it came to meet a life partner in the days of the dancehall.