Directly across from Monaghans, Bohermore was the entrance to Crowe’s Lane. Two doors away from the entrance, on the right side, the Harris family opened what became a very busy shop. Besides all the usual commodities, Mr Harris had fresh vegetables and potatoes regularly and they were in great demand. His son, Brendan, ran the shop. On Friday evenings (pay-day) the shop could be extremely busy. One Friday evening I went in to buy something, and Brendan asked me if I could help behind the counter. He was so busy, as tea, sugar and flour all had to be weighed. There were no tea bags in those days. And even the sweets had to be counted. The people paid their weekly bill and the money was complicated; pounds, shillings, pence and half pennies. I helped out on a few Friday evenings and was proud of my first little job, at a time when I could barely see over the counter.
Staying on the same side of the road, beyond Crowe’s Lane there was a long low thatched house with very small windows. This was far from our idea of a traditional shop, but many local people bought their cabbage carrots and clay covered spuds there. The spuds and veggies were probably grown in their long back garden. Bohermore was organically fed before the world ever knew the meaning of the word. It was owned by the Hogan Family. Michael John, Morgan ‘Gawgs’; and their sister Bridgeen handled the money.
Not far from Hogans, almost directly across from Connolly Terrace was the general store owned by the Manto family. Besides the regular food items that were always in demand, if you needed any other household items, from brooms to polish to shoelaces to spades we would try Manto’s first. Mrs Manto and Francie were always on their feet, willing to help and have a little chat while Mr Manto unloaded fresh supplies from his little van. How shopping has changed from these days when we shopped out of necessity, but were treated so personally.
Just a few more steps of the footpath on the same side there was a row of houses called Dunne’s Terrace. The Dunnes lived in the middle house. The first house is where we find the famous Girleen Greelish’s shop. We never knew her real name. She was a very dignified lady who always spoke perfect English with a slightly grand accent. She was always neatly dressed with her speckled pinafore and wore tiny, very thick rimmed glasses. She was well up on world affairs and national and local projects; she certainly knew her geography. Her shop had two counters joined together at right angles. The counter facing the entrance had an enclosed glass case with delicious looking Swiss rolls and sweet cakes on display. It was customary when visiting someone in those days to arrive with a cake or a Swiss roll so your hosts wouldn’t be embarrassed if they had nothing to offer you with the cup of tea. Remember there were no phones and therefore ‘no warnings’ ahead of time from visitors. Miss Greenish closed the shop early in the evening so she could eat, rest, listen to the news and her favourite programmes.
I will always be grateful for Girleen for an old-time very effective cure for boils on the back of my neck. One day I went to the shop for a tin of Andrews Liver Salts and a box of matches. She noticed that there was something wrong with me. ‘When you go home’ she said ‘tell your parents to make a hot poultice on a piece of brown paper with melted brown sugar or red soap and tie it around your neck before you go to bed’. It worked like magic overnight, and what a relief! Where else could that happen; you go into a shop for items and come home with a cure for boils!
Just a few steps along the way, we come to Horan’s butcher shop. Mr Horan was called ‘The Sheriff’, he and his very gentle wife had a daughter and a few sons. Billy was the one who usually served the customers. They supplied the making of many a good stew for Bohermore families. When Billy needed something picked up at Lohan’s Chemist, he would send me down; and give me a couple of slices of delicious luncheon sausage as my reward. Sometimes half a cow would be hanging from the ceiling and in the summer, half the blue-bottles in Galway flew in for lunch. The Horans had a very long extension at the back of the shop which I could see from an upstairs window in our house. I think that’s where most of the butchering was done. However, with the opening of the Galway Shopping Centre and pedestrian access at the end of Saint Anthony’s Terrace, the butcher shop closed.
This was replaced by a bright modern convenience store called Hollands. This was perfectly located as it was directly across from the entrance to the newly constructed housing estate of Coole Park. People were delighted at first because it was so bright and modern with more refrigeration capacity so you didn’t have far to go if you ran short on milk. A greater variety of perishable goods was available and they also sold newspapers. On Tuesdays and Fridays people stopped to pick up the Connacht Sentinel and Connacht Tribune. John Scott’s Galway Observer had ceased to exist at that time. Sadly, Holland Shop, like so many others has closed.
The Terraces Small Room Shops: The terraced houses were built by Galway Corporation in 1934. They were very basic with a sizable front garden. At the back of each house there were two rooms upstairs and a toilet, and two rooms downstairs and a scullery. As you opened the front door the room behind it on the right was called a small room and that would be turned into a shop by some of the tenants in the terraces.
Nan Walsh’s Shop: My earliest recollection of a small room shop was Nan Walsh’s. As we turn left off the main road we find ourselves on Saint Anthony’s Terrace. The next left turn becomes Saint Finbarr’s Terrace. The first house on the right was Walsh’s; it was tiny and shiny. Nan and her daughter Sarah ran the shop. Sometimes Nan’s married daughters would come to help out. One of them, Mrs McDonagh, was called ‘The Whistler’. She whistled while she served in the days when we were all enthralled by Ronnie Ronalde and Slim Whitman. Another daughter was Mrs Kavanagh from Woodquay and there was still another from down behind the Union Hall whose name I cannot remember. There was a glass window on the door going from the shop into the bigger room we called the kitchen. When the door opened as Nan made her way into the shop, we could catch a glimpse of the shiny bright coloured walls with magnificent transfers of birds just below the ceiling. We were sure that the range, with a blazing fire, must have been painted silver. Besides, there was always the beautiful smell of dinner. That little shop had an atmosphere.
Behind the counter there were shelves on the back wall with big glass jars filled with a variety of sweets from bullseyes to peggy’s legs. Rumour had it, however, that the house next-door was haunted. In the middle of the night the glass jars in Nan’s shop could be heard rattling. No one came knocking at Nan’s door after dark for a couple of Woodbines! My uncle Sunny Darcy, delivered bread from Lydon’s in Mary Street to Nan’s shop with a horse-drawn cart. One day, I was playing on the street when he came along on the cart. Upon seeing me, he asked if I would like a spin on the cart up to the shop. In two seconds I was sitting beside him. I felt I was on the top of the highest mountain in Ireland looking down at the horse in front of me as its gigantic long back moved with it every step like a small earthquake. As we unloaded the bread at the shop, the aroma of the freshly baked loaves was out of this world.
Geary’s Shop: Lol Geary opened a small room shop at 29 Liam Mellows Terrace after her father Da Geary died. Lol was single, but one of her nephews, Michael, and her little niece, Mary, lived with her. Lol was my mother’s cousin, so we tried to support her with our few pennies once in a while. Like all the other Bohermore shops, Friday and Saturday could be very busy. Since the floor space was so tiny, it was vital to get the customers in and out as fast as possible. The little hallway at the front door was so small that on a rainy evening some people had to wait their turn sitting on the lower steps of the stairs. Lol asked me if I could help out by weighing tea and sugar, cutting the butter in half and selling grinders. So there I was, going back and forth between Geary’s and Harris’ on the weekend and trying to get my homework done in my first year at St Mary’s College. However, I enjoyed it all. Some of the customers were great characters and no two were the same. I felt so important to be on the other side of the counter. I don’t remember what the wages were like, but I loved going home with two big Gearies biscuits and a few sweets. When Lol was getting on in years she closed the shop.
Darcy’s Shop: We move now to another little shop at 32 Cooke’s Terrace which I believe opened after Lol’s shop closed. My uncle Sonny Darcy and his wife Annie, ran this shop. A couple of famous people were either born or reared at this address before the shop opened; namely Chick Gillen and Willie Henry. The shop was well located where the three terraces meet; Saint Anthony’s, Saint Finbarr’s and Liam Mellows. Here is another interesting point about the location. Looking out the back windows of the Darcy house in those days one could see miles of fields, the Headford Road, a playing field and the Sandy River. Today only a few hundred yards away from that small room shop we find one of the first comprehensive shopping centres in the west of Ireland. This huge establishment behind the Bohermore houses gradually brought about the beginning of the end of the little shops of Bohermore.
Another Darcy Shop: Many of the houses in the terraces kept at least one lodger just to bring in a little extra income. Although we were a family of six children, we had one lodger staying in our small room. When she got a house of her own, my parents thought it might be a good idea to open a shop in the room. I had already left for Boston to study for the priesthood and my older brother Matty had gone to England. Our house at Number 1 Lydon Terrace was directly across from Connolly Terrace. Another great advantage was that it was a gable-end house with one of the first bus stops in Bohermore right at the gate. Even when the door was closed for the night, people would come and knock at all hours for the little necessities; loaf of bread, package of candles, box of matches. Those were the days before packaged items. Many items had to be weighed without spillage. If there was no paper bag available, the shopkeeper took a piece of newspaper twisted into a cone shaped container and carefully poured the commodity in using a tiny shovel. The top opening was then folded down sealing the container. Of course there were the easier purchases also, like lads looking for a bottle of brilliantine to shine up their hair before heading off to a dance at the Hangar, Astaire, Seapoint or the Commercial. There were no calculators, till or check-out machine; dealing with pounds shillings and pence was a challenge. There were pennies, halfpennies, thrupenny-bits, six-penny pieces, shillings, two shilling pieces and half crowns plus the odd ten shilling and pound notes. I don’t remember seeing too many fivers!
Most people purchased their little items ‘on tick’ or ‘on the slate’ with the intention of paying the bill at the weekend. This method was referred to as the ‘Kathleen Mavourneen System’, referring to the line from the song … ‘It may be for years and it may be forever’. God bless the mothers of Bohermore. How did they manage such large families with so little money? And God be with the fathers and the older children who were out earning a living in all kinds of weather.
My dear Mom and Dad being poor themselves realised the situation these families were in and knew that many of the debts could never be paid off completely. Their compassionate nature would not allow them to pressurise or penalise any of those good neighbours. They felt the pinch themselves when the supplies had to be paid. They kept the shop going for as long as they could, more for service than for profit. Running these small shops took its toll on owners, they were at the beck and call of the customers all day and well into the night; no uninterrupted meals, no central heating with the door opening and closing all winter. They were ‘on their feet’ most of the day every day. Once arthritis started to set in there was no option, but to close the shop.
Heneghan’s Shop: The very last house on Connolly Terrace near the cemetery wall was Heneghan’s Shop. Even though traffic was lighter back then, a child could be run over trying to cross the road when the stampede of cyclists from the hat factory as they left work. I vaguely remember the shop and was never in it as it closed when we were still very young.
Geraghty’s Shop: The last stop is Geraghty’s Shop in Grealishtown. It was a long narrow shop and supplied just about every household item needed at the time, including the usual variety of cigarettes, sweets and biscuits. Come to think of it, I never remember any shop in Bohermore selling coffee in my time. I wonder how and where the few visiting yanks got their ‘morning fix?’ Mrs Geraghty was always busy in her navy shop coat. I remember seeing her unloading the little ass cart which probably came in the country full of fresh vegetables and newly dug spuds. I’m sure the opening of Scoil Iognaid and the placement of the bus stop across from the cemetery were a positive development for business. Yes this premises was probably the last stop for many people cycling or walking home to Castlegar and places beyond.
Beyond the magnificent wall of Saint Mary’s Cemetery rests my dear Mom and Dad, my youngest brother Gabriel, my maternal grandparents and extended family. In that sacred place also lie many of our Bohermore shopkeepers and hundreds of their customers, along with so many of our kind, generous, thoughtful and faith-filled neighbours. I had learned the benefits of ‘shared poverty’ long before I hit the west coast of Africa in 1967 where I lived and worked for many years with a dignified, poor and gracious people who didn’t depend on wealth for everyday security or survival. In that far off place I was blessed once again to live and learn and continue to grow up among so many great neighbours.