Bord na Móna - Source Issue 12 - (Page 27)

A group of employees' children - and employees - enjoying the Ballydermot children's party in the 1950s. HERITAGE PROFILE LULLYMORE VETERAN HERITAGE CORNER L AN EXTRACT FROM AN SLEÁN, FEBRUARY 1, 1946, BY 'WORDSWORTH' O ne day last week at Killinthomas Camp, an orderly reported to the C/S, Mr Hoban, that a cat had been locked in the rubber boots store, so, taking the key and accompanied by his assistant, Mr Steinmayer, whose love for our "dumb" friends is so well-known, the Super made for the store and threw open the door, saying in a coaxing tone, "puss, puss" or "pish wish", or words to that effect. The mewing, sounding rather hoarse now, persisted but no cat appeared. "She's in the so-and-so well!" says the Super. Sure enough, the light of a torch hurriedly brought by an orderly disclosed, when the loose boards had been removed, the form of a black cat perched on a piece of timber at the bottom of the opening about 25 feet deep. Pussy, evidently recognising that help was at hand, redoubled her cries which the Super vainly tried to stem by alternate requests to "be a good pussy", and to "shut up, you brute!" The ranks of the rescuers having now been swelled by the arrival of Mr P. J. Gallagher, Assistant C/S, many and varied were the suggestions put forward to extricate puss. A ladder was procured and half of it introduced into the store. Owing to it being too long or the door too narrow (in the absence of a member of the engineering staff, we couldn't tell which), the ladder refused to do its stuff. In fact, it took considerable energy and the use of some magic words I had never heard before to get the half of the ladder already in, out again. A really sensible suggestion from Mr Steinmayer - that a hole be made in the roof just over the opening and the ladder lowered straight down - was somewhat rudely dismissed by the Super's remark that the roof cost money, but we got the cat free! Eventually the only window which had been nailed up was opened to the accompaniment of more new words. These, however, paled into insignificance when Mr Gallagher attempted to catch the ladder on his chest as it came, with more speed than discretion, through the open window. This time, the ladder was either too long or the roof too low (see reference to engineering staff above) and it took considerable manoeuvring to get it into the well, but this was at last accomplished, again to the enrichment of my vocabulary! The ladder of course was short by a good six feet and had to be lowered to puss with a stout piece of wire - and if anyone asks you can a cat climb a ladder to get out of a well - it can, and it did! INFORMATION To find out more about Bord na Móna's rich heritage, log on to S oose briquettes were the order of the day for Oliver Kearney (aged 76) when he worked in Lullymore Briquette factory. "We forked briquettes onto a conveyor belt which tipped them into lorries," said Oliver, who started work with Bord na Móna in 1953 - in 1955, he left to work elsewhere, including England, before returning to Lullymore from 1963 until the factory closed in 1992. "The V8 petrol lorries used to take five or six tonnes of briquettes, while the bigger lorries from hauliers and fuel merchants like McHenry's of Dublin took 10 tonnes." Oliver also worked as a pressman in the small briquette factory which was on the same site as the main factory in Lullymore. "It produced about six to eight tonnes in an eight-hour shift - they were small briquettes made for use in small furnaces." Later, in 1963, he worked in peat harvesting driving a miller on Lullymore bog, before returning to work on briquette bales in the factory in 1968. That connection with Lullymore has been with Oliver all his life - as a child, he lived just a half-mile from the factory and passed by it on the way to school. He recalls seeing the turf boats which used to come down the Grand Canal and tie up at the dock. Married to Maureen with three adult children, Oliver also recalls his father's involvement in World War I. "He signed up and fought in France. He was 62 when I was born and didn't talk about the War much - that generation didn't." And, in as much as that war was about saving communities in Europe, working in Lullymore kept that local community together. "Anybody who had a job at that time was lucky," said Oliver, adding that the average salary in the early days was £4-£5. "And people lived on it and reared families out of it." Source | 27

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Bord na Móna - Source Issue 12

Bord Na MóNa - Source Issue 12
Brown Gold
A Bright Future Beckons
Clean Energy Hub
A Good Year
Game On!
Sales Force
Project Update
Heritage Corner

Bord na Móna - Source Issue 12