My Sherrif Street

Unknown artist

I was born into a different Dublin. Born into the Sherriff Street area in the north inner city of Dublin, surrounded by shops, convents, but very few houses. Growing up, I followed my family’s footsteps to the Docks and found myself in a different world to now. My grandfather was a crane man. Operating a steam powered crane, he worked for three different coal yards, bringing coal from the ships and powering the country. His cousins worked the gates, allowing access to the docks. When my grandfather transported the coal, he’d rely on a ‘singer’, someone to guide him from the ground, and when he was finished, four other men would come to clean it up. Back then, to dig the coal meant digging it proper with shovels. When the extra labour was needed, the ‘reader’ would eye up workmen hanging around the docks and hire them for the days needed. You’d bring your own work boots and cast your hat into the coal pits, edging out a spot for yourself to dig. The centre was the easiest, but the men on the side were constantly pushing more into you. When it rained you’d put the sack over your head to get a bit of cover. A bag of coal at the time could be ten stone, and you’d drag it from point to point, as it’d be too heavy to carry properly. It was a hard life. You didn’t retire from the docklands, they retired you. I lost a brother to the water, and you just didn’t think of the danger. The area was vicious for traffic, three boys in my class in school also lost brothers in the same weeks for similar reasons. My own father was a ferryman. He survived the Second World War despite being torpedoed twice, with not a scratch. A few years later, he lost a toe in an accident and an infection took him not long after at the age of 41. I had considered the boating life, but after a trail period of 7 weeks, decided it wasn’t for me. I became a dockboy at 13, and my friend Paddy and I washed the dishes. One time we were taken to the 3rd class quarters with a mop and bucket and I was disillusioned for life. 3rd Class was down over the screws (the hull of the ship). I left for Birmingham, England in 1961 and stayed there for 7 years. Started as a trainee sales manager in John Lewis, but needed money so I took a job painting. When I came back, not much had changed. Liberty Hall had gone up, and the Theatre Royale had come down. My first job back was making sweets for Lemon Sweet Factory in Drumcondra. I also took a job making plastic ski slopes for social clubs. One of the slopes found its way to a social club in Templeogue. Eventually I found my way into the best job I’d ever have. In 1983, I started working for G.E. of America, working in industrial diamonds. We were using techniques like brainstorming long before they became common here. They had a nurse on site from 8am-5pm everyday to take care of you, and three times a week the doctor would call around. We thought it was great, but we knew it was so you couldn’t call in sick - they were very clever. I worked there for 19 years and managed to retire comfortably at the age of 59. I spend my life in Maynooth now as I've been retired since 2000.