A handball to start the train!

There are stories to be told and then there are stories not to be. The railway had an accumulation of such tales, many of them are now all but lost. For some time, trains have not been seen in this neck of the woods, which prompts us to ask, will we ever see the like of them again? The answer is probably not. But then again, who knows? Dublin has the Luas, so why should rural communities not look for similar connections? In Cavan, we nostalgically think of railways as a bygone entity.

Commonly, it is assumed that all rail workers in the early twentieth century, were only men. In most stations this was true, although women did take up positions, often joining as clerks. In some places, the wives of male employees were appointed as gatekeepers at crossings. A research paper published in Saothar, volume 36, ‘Breaking the mould? The employment of women in Irish railway companies during the First World War’, by Mary Muldowney, sheds fresh light on the role played by women.

At Cootehill, in 1911, Stationmaster P.J. McNally’s sister, Annie McNally, was employed at the station as a General Clerk. She resided in the Station House along with her brother and his family. Annie, a Tyrone woman, began work with the Great Northern Railway in 1898. Nationally, at the outbreak of the Great War, the company had twenty-three women on its payroll. The McNally family departed from Cootehill in 1915 and the incoming family of Stationmaster Hugh Smyth moved into the Railway House. The GNR’s staff records for Cootehill, note that Margaret Smyth, the Stationmaster’s daughter, was employed as a clerk in the Goods Office.

A son of Stationmaster’s Smyth, named Hugh jnr., was a handball fanatic and wherever he went, he was sure to carry a rubber ball in his coat pocket. If he had a free moment and a wall presented itself, Hugh jnr. never failed to miss an opportunity to practise some throw and catch.

One frosty morning , there was a loud commotion about the engine shed when the night-watchman Big Johnny Boyle, of Caldry, could not get the engine to start. Through the small hours of the night, Johnny worked tirelessly to clean out the ashes, grease all the parts, and rub the engines surfaces down with wintergreen. There it stood stationary, shining like a new pin. Meanwhile, Joe Scully, the engine driver was beginning to get fidgety, as he stood about, realising that the train was going to miss its allotted journey on the timetable that morning.

They sent up to the station for the stationmaster who duly arrived accompanied by Hugh jnr. There were great murmurings around the shed, and they concluded that the locomotive had to be towed back to the workshop in Dundalk. Hugh jnr., was something of a genius when it came to figuring things out and the stationmaster allowed him to have a look over it. He had an ability to turn his hand to any task and a witty turn of phrase to go with whatever he did. One time, while chatting to a solicitor named Peate, in the pub at Lisnalong, the solicitor said to him, ‘Hugh, you know you should have been called to the bar.’ To which he replied that he had indeed been called to the bar, but, that it was the one in Lisnalong that called him.’

As the men, stood around the locomotive, all eyes peered at Hugh jnr. He carefully looked it over, until his attention was drawn to a valve which he noticed had a substantial crack. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out the ever-ready handball he always carried. The others looked on in bemusement as he began to squeeze the solid rubber ball into the cracked valve. He told them to give the train another lash. This time, it started. Thankfully, the train was able to depart for Ballybay on time, before being brought on to the repair works in Dundalk. The mechanics at the repair works could find no faults. The handball had completely sealed the valve to the amazement of the mechanics at the repair works. All they had to do, was to send the engine back on its journey to Cootehill. Hugh jnr., had sacrificed his handball in the line of duty, but knowing him, it would not be too long before he got a replacement.

The Evening Pressreported on an unusual law case on the 22 May 1909, whereby thirteen ducks found swimming on a ‘flooded meadow’ in Rockcorry were found guilty of illegal trespass on a farmers land.

In the course of events, four summonses were brought against the unfortunate owner of the ducks, not to mention, an additional £10 claim for the ‘damage’ caused by the ducks to the ‘flooded field’.

The magistrates took the feathered intrusion more seriously than expected, having assessed the apparent ‘damages’ at 6d. in the case of each duck and awarded costs.

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,

Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;

And charging along like troops in a battle

All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

All of the sights of the hill and the plain

Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And here is the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart runaway in the road

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill, and there is a river:

Each a glimpse and gone forever!