Athlone boys

Jean's Journal, with Jean Farrell.

The young boys in this photograph are having a PE class in the grounds of The Dean Crowe Theatre. I’ll explain why.

In the 1950s I attended Saint Peter’s National School, on the Connaught side of Athlone. There was a girls’ secondary school beside our national school. The Mercy nuns were in charge of both.

My brothers attended The Dean Kelly National School, known to one and all as ‘The Batteries.’ There was no boys’ secondary school on the Connaught side of Athlone back then. They had to go across the bridge, to the far-side, to The Marist Brothers School.

In 1960, Canon McCarthy decided to open a secondary school in Saints Peter and Paul’s parish. It was to be called Saint Aloysius. However, there was no building to house the new boys’ school.

What is now The Dean Crowe Theatre was known to us, back then, as Saint Peter’s Hall. A small room, in this building was used as the first classroom. On September 1, 1960, a group of 13-year-old boys began their secondary education there.

You can see the fresh young enthusiastic faces of the boys in the photograph here, as they partake in a PE class, in front of Saint Peter’s Hall.

We lived just up the hill from the hall, in O’Connell Street. Any of the little children watching might be my young brothers and sisters!

The boys in the photos are now in their mid-seventies! I wonder do any readers recognise themselves.

Within a year or two Saint Aloysius Secondary School moved down to a lovely Georgian House, across the canal from The Shamrock Lodge Hotel. This house, built in 1820, had been owned by the Lyster family, well-known local business folk in Athlone. Classes took place in the rooms of this lovely house. In time, many classrooms were built beside the old house. Saint Aloysius was a fine boys’ school and some of my brothers attended it.

In 2017, Saint Aloysius merged with Saint Joseph’s College in Summerhill. Now called Coláiste Chiaráin, this newly built big secondary school (out in Summerhill) educates boys and girls from all over the midlands. I’m sure they have a wonderful huge modern indoor gym in this brand new school. And I’m sure none of the students wear sandals and shoes doing PE, like the lads in this photograph.

I have just finished a novel about the lives of two generations of an English family. The story began in 1900 when the three sons were the age of the young boys in this photograph. Ten years later, when they reached manhood and were leading happy successful lives, World War One broke out. Two of them (and many of their young friends) were slaughtered.

One son survived and returned home. He married and had three sons. The story continued. I followed the lives of these boys as they grew up, married and became successful business men. Then World War Two broke out. How terrible. Off they went, full of bravado like their uncles before them. All were slaughtered.

I abhor war. It is such a terrible waste of life. We often read that the present generation of English men are the first generation who didn’t have to go to war. How lucky are they?

I’ve written the following here before and I make no apologies for repeating it. Consider all that is involved in rearing a child – the nine months of pregnancy, the birth, the sleepless nights, the disciplining and humouring of them through school days and difficult teen years. After all this very hard work, the result usually is a mature kind responsible much-loved adult son or daughter.

How terrible it must be to see them head off to a battle field to be murdered, often for a cause they barely understand.

I read that the Ministry of Defence, in Britain, is considering the possibility of sending British troops to Ukraine.

I watched the musical ‘South Pacific’ on New Year’s Day. “Babies aren’t born hating anyone,” a person said, during the film. Her companion burst into song. I thought the words were very thought-provoking. He sang,

‘You've got to be taught to hate and fear. You've got to be taught from year to year. It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear. You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late, before you are six or seven or eight to hate all the people your relatives hate. You've got to be carefully taught.’

To lighten my column now, I’ll write about Tommy Tiernan. Tommy launched his uncle’s book, in Athlone, before Christmas. His uncle is John Tiernan, a well-known Athlone man. You may have read about the book in this paper, last week. It’s called ‘Tell Tale Townies’ and I enjoyed it very much.

Tommy spoke to us, at the launch of the book and I was interested in what he had to say. He told us that he started school in The Fair Green, here in Athlone. I didn’t know this. His family was living with his granny at the time. She was Mary Tiernan, who lived in Auburn Villas and taught in Summerhill.

Tommy told us that Irish people are the best story tellers in the world. “It’s only when you go to other countries that you realise this,” he said.

He spoke about his mad tiny dog and I laughed at his description of this little fluffy animal. He told us that his dog is a cross between ‘a mop and a panic attack.’

jeanfarrell@live.ie