The late Catherine Barnes and the local small shop

Jean's Journal with Jean Farrell

I’m writing today about the small sweet shops that were in every town and village, long ago. I bet there was one near you. These were like ‘community centres’ before we ever heard the phrase. Long chats took place between the customers and the shopkeeper (who knew all the local news.) People loved this interaction. An hour could be spent buying your packet of cigarettes. And you’d never know who might come in!

All my life I have lived next door to a small shop. In spite of the fact that these are closing by the minute, there is still one open beside us.

I live close to The Crescent, near The Fair Green. Sid Shine was a well-known band leader and singer. Many, many years ago, his mother bought the land (where the Crescent Ballroom was later built) for five pounds. What she got, for her five pounds, was a little triangle of a green field, facing town. She set up a small shop there, with a tin roof on it. The town ended at this point. An old man told me that once you passed under the railway bridge, beyond The Crescent, you were out in the country.

This was before Sarsfield Square was built in 1933, and Beechpark in 1952.

Mr Shine had a band, and his son Syd (born in 1920) sang with him. As the years passed they built their own ballroom, behind the little shop. They called it The Crescent Ballroom. Many a love story began there. Whilst the ballroom was extended over the years, the shop always remained open.

When we moved into our house nearby, in 1975, The Crescent Shop was run by Harry O’Brien. Harry was a kind gentleman. His many customers included hordes of school children.

Over the years The Crescent Shop has changed hands a few times. It is now an Indian shop. Indian people, living in Ireland, come here to buy what they need for their own cuisine.

My daughter was cooking us a meal at Christmas (from the remains of the turkey.) She discovered that we had no rice so she went out to the Indian shop, next door. She returned with all sorts of interesting things to add to her dish. And, without a doubt, the rice she bought there was much much tastier than the usual ‘rice in a bag’ that I cook!

This Indian shop also sells milk, bread and basic Irish foodstuffs. It sells sweets too, which appeals to the school children.

What now stands on the little plot of land, that Mrs Shine bought, are an Indian shop, two chemist shops, a Chinese restaurant and a small hotel. The hotel is run by the owners of the Chinese restaurant and is where the ballroom used to be.

When I was young, and living in O’Connell Street, Mrs Shevlin had a small shop next door to us. Many readers will remember it.

There was another small shop around the corner from our house, back then, and I want to write about it now. It was in Connolly Street, opposite the guards’ barracks and it was owned by Catherine Barnes. My father’s business was directly across the street from it.

Catherine Barnes (1938-2024) spent her early years in America. Her Athlone-born parents returned to Ireland, when Catherine was a little girl. They bought a house in Connolly Street. There they opened a small shop , which sold sweets and basic groceries.

Catherine died recently, aged 83, and she would be absolutely astonished to know that she is remembered very fondly by numerous people. Condolences were written by Athlone folk from all over the world. These are grownups, who as children, bought their flash bars, sherbets, lucky bags, nancy balls and liquorice pipes in Catherine’s shop. They all remembered her with great affection. ‘A much frequented happy little sweet shop,’ one wrote.

I think Catherine’s Barnes death reminded them of their youth. They recalled spending their pennies, on their way home from Mass or school, in her shop. ‘We bought our sweets in Catherine’s, on our way to the pictures,’ one man wrote. Some mentioned buying a single cigarette from her.

My family knew Catherine Barnes particularly well. Our greatest memory of Catherine involved much drama. One April evening, in 1962, we were having our tea in 4 O’Connell Street. Suddenly, we heard much pounding on our door and screaming outside. Catherine Barnes burst into our living-room shouting that our butcher shop was on fire.

We all ran down the street after her to see the whole building in flames. Much later in the night, the roof fell in and the place was destroyed. My father built a bar and lounge there afterwards. (This is now called The Bailey.)

Catherine Barnes sold lines for the Bell Circle and The Ren, too. These were local parish draws. The big weekly prizes were around £60, and there were lots of small amounts to be won also. As a promotor, many people would have come in to buy their weekly line from Catherine and then stay on to chat with whoever might drop in.

What a great pity it is that most of our little sweet shops are gone. They provided much more than mere sweets.

I was reminded of this social interaction, last week. I went into the Indian shop, beside me, to buy milk. There I saw folk from India having great chats with each other.

Some things don’t change! We all need to talk!