A Trip Down Memory Lane

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Guileen of happy memory

This article was taken from the Cork holly Bough, 1992
by Caroline Mullen

In the year 1917 Anne Cashman gave birth to a bouncing baby boy at the family home in Glanturkin in the coastal village of Guileen, near Whitegate in East Cork. Michael named after his father, a British Naval officer whose career had been cruelly and prematurely terminated by rheumatoid arthritis, was three and a half years of age when he started school. Ę up to 90 children from Guileen and its hinter-land attended class in the village. Mrs. Revetta, who lived nearby, and Miss Ahern, who travelled from Whitegate each day, were responsible for the education of the youngsters. Quiet a daunting task for two women! But the standard of education was exemplary - the children were enthusiastically encourage by there `by there tutors to be inquisitive and confident.

Father Keating was Keating was the parish priest during the 1920's and he loved to visit Guileen school, specially in the summer months when he would attempt to take a swim. In the preparation for his dip, Fr. Keating would remove his false teeth and place them on a rock. Inevitably , one day he searched in vain for his teeth after his swim. He arrived at the school, toothless, and the teachers took immediate charge of the situation . All the children were marched down to the tide and told to hold hands in a long line . they proceeded tentatively towards the tide, until finally one of the children spotted the false teeth imbedded in the sand. Father Keating was most impressed with this show of calm efficiency!.

Michael Cashman knew his education stood him in great stead when, at the tender age of 12, he was awarded a scholarship at the Royal Naval school in Greenwich, England. The youngster spent three years at the naval boarding school in Greenwich, before taking the entrance exam and joining the Navy as a boy rating at H.M.S Grange, Harwich.

Every school holiday, every leave of absence from the Navy, would find Michael Cashman back in Guileen visiting his parents and three sisters. Guileen was a thriving village then. There were four shops and two public houses, Hegarty's for family entertainment, Ryan's (now the Guileen Arms) the serious drinkers pub.

Mikie and Mary Ellen Ryan were the proud owners of "the men's pub" Mike was tall and thin, Mary Ellen was very portly indeed. it was commented that standing next to each other they looked like the number 10! it was outside Ryan's pub that people would congregate. It was the meeting place, place for surely anything that was about to happen in the village would most certainly start for there.

Wille and Molly Hegarty had the family pub, where a game of cards, the occasional music could be enjoyed. Katie Sullivan, married into another family of Cashmans in the village, was gifted with the accordion and would always play in Hegarty's pub, or for the dancing on the concrete slip by the sea. Her husband, Moss Cashman was a member of the village coastguards, and he with other heroic volunteers, assisted with the liner Celtic, was wrecked of Roches point in 1928. Hegarty's pub was also a shop where you could by anything from a fish hook, a gallon of oil, groceries, and in later days, postage stamps.

Bagpipes

Michael Cashman minisced wistfully about the last time he and his comrades from the village met, at the start of the world war. It was New years Eve 1939/'40 and a whole crowd who had joined the forces were at home. they were at Hegarty's playing card's, listening to music. They persuaded one of the group, Pats Carthy, to play his bagpipes at midnight to welcome in the new year. Pats obliged and, taking his pipes outside, strode up and down the village. Plaintively the wailing lamentation echoed its poignant tune around the countryside. The noise woke every child in the village and the surrounding area for miles around. Needles to say, the lads idea of welcoming in 1940 wasn't to popular with the rest of the population of Guileen!

In the ruins of Pats Carthy's cottage now stands a caravan known as Shan-gri-La. Pats Carthy, the mischievous, impish bagpipe player, wrote this poem about Guileen.

Close to white and shelving strand
Lahard's famed castle gleams
Where chieftains held a high command in
olden times, I wean.
Alas, its beauty is all
fled, deserted are its halls
A verdant sward around is
spread, and ivy-clad its walls.
Farewell my charming treasure spot,
Aghada's lovely scene
Thy beauty ne'er will
be forgot by one who loves Guileen.

Such simple pleasures the good people of Guileen had in those days! Enthralling story-telling, music-making, poem-writing, day dreaming while watching some romantic film brought into the village by the travelling cinemas. And later, Trabolgan became a vibrant holiday. Set set in idyllic lush tree lined coastal pastures, the exquisite old mansion was an obsolete picture. Sun-shaped tiles ,all bright and glowing, almost of an ethereal quality, shore forth from its alluring hall. The large dinning room and ballroom where available to guests. Dress was formal for the ballroom. Although the facilities on site where basic - the chalets were wooden built and the swimming pool was out doors - a harmonious feeling prevailed and the atmosphere was wonderful. In the twilight, umpteen fairy lights would twinkle merrily from the trees, and campers would hear the melodious tune "good-night campers -- see you in the morning. Good-night campers, good-night" before retiring.

Dick Lombard was another poet of designs in the village and his habitat is now also derelict. This poem was written about Dick:

My name is Dick Lombard,
I'm a labourer by trade
I can handle a shovel,
a pick or a spade
I went to the frigate,
a wife for to find
And out pick out a beauty,
although I'm half blind

And when we are married
we'll make a great start,
We'll have hens and some ducks and a donkey and cart.
And when we are married,
we'll have a great time
We'll drive to the ferry and then on to cloyne,
And from there onto Farsid,
and we'll dance on the green
And then onto Whitegate and home to Guileen.

(Note -- "the Frigate", believed to be a nick name for a Midleton hospital).
Michael Cashman had many memories to, of John Lawton, the "periwinkle man", in charge of collection and distribution. But all those recollections were some what painful as he was witness to the gradual demise of Guileen. Stealthily, the transition from a copious village to a spectre of its former self occurred. Young single men emigrated from Ireland in drove. The older ones gradually dwindled into decline. Now Guileen has a very sparse indeed, no shops, no school. Hegarty's pub is now residential property, Mikie and Mary Ellen's former "serious drinkers'" pub is now the Guileen Arms, a family pub which enjoys a good trade, owned by Derek and Pearl Aspinwall who have renovated and extended it, and have done much to rekindle the ethos of Guileen, although neither one had any former connection with the village. An influx of visitors from all over Europe descend on Guileen during the summer months. They rent out the empty houses, once occupied by the large families.

RUGGED UNSPOILT

Guileen has a unique personality untamed

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