The Liberty Belle

Adayinthelife

 By Conor Feehan

Maggie Kennedy is a permanent fixture on Thomas Street. In fact, she is probably as important a landmark as the Augustinian church. She has been selling fruit and vegetables in the shadow of its spire for nearly 60 years now; a spot that her mother occupied before her.

I asked Maggie if she ever falls ill due to the inclement weather that blusters its way down Thomas Street. The tall buildings on each side of the road seem to transform a breeze into a freezing wind tunnel.

"What you’re used to never sickens you," is Maggies quick response, but she is wrapped in headscarves and a heavy coat to keep the cold out. Her uncomplaining attitude has been developed over the years of hard work, but the warmth and kindness of her personality is something that even the harshest weather can’t erode.

Her day used to start at 5.30 am, but now that age is catching up with her she gets some help from her son setting up the stall each day. "I never knew another way of life, and I believe that it’s hard work but honest work," says Maggie as she surveys the fresh produce that clutters her stall.

Maggie has had to adapt to changes down through the years. The influx of foreign visitors means that she now sells a wider variety of fruit. Changing trends also affect the type of stock she sells. But sometimes the change has been for the worse.

"I got extra lemons on pancake Tuesday, but most people seem to buy the lemon in the bottles now," says Maggie. The faraway look in her eye tells me she remembers all too well the days before convenience food started crowding the shelves of supermarkets.

"Saint Blaise’s day used to be a big event years ago as well. There used to be thousands of people queueing up to go into Merchants Quay church every February 3rd to get their throats blessed, and they all used to buy olive oil and flannels off me," says Maggie. The oil and the flannel used to be blessed by the priest, and it would keep throat ailments at bay while it hung in the house. "That tradition has died out now," Maggie says with an air of nostalgia, "Not many seem to bother about the blessing of throats these days."

There are no prices on any of the boxes of fruit. Maggie seems to know exactly what everything costs. Decisions on prices depend on many factors, and then the traditional bargaining starts. Maggie doesn’t earn a fortune selling fruit from her street stall, but she enjoys the social interaction she has with her fellow Dubliners.

Many of Maggie’s customers are regulars. "I’d know their faces, but not all their names." Maggie has a good rapport with them all, and knows that flattery and compliment will always guarantee repeat business. "Hello son," she says to a man in his late fifties as he strolls up Thomas Street. Trade has slackened over the years as the supermarkets started to fill the streets, but Maggie still gets customers from the local area, including regulars from local colleges and the new apartments that just seem to fall from the sky overnight.

Maggie works until about six o’clock, six days a week, and has a constant supply of customers, mainly elderly women who queue patiently in the shivering cold. Some of her customers still haggle hard on prices because they always love a bargain. When things are quiet Maggie shelters in the doorway of O’Neills pub. "They’re very good to me in the pub, I get a few mugs of tea during the day as well."

"The area has changed a lot over the years, I remember all the old characters like Bang-Bang, and Johnny Fortycoats." Luggs Brannigan, Dublin’s most famous and feared Garda, used to leave his bicycle with Maggie while he ran across to the church for confession.

I asked Maggie why she keeps going at her age. "I’d go mad in the house, and I like meeting all the people. So long as I feel well enough and strong enough I’ll keep going, but I know that I’m the last in the family that’ll keep it going."

Thankfully, Maggie has never been a victim of the escalating crime in Dublin over the years. The tall old shops and church block the sun that would otherwise shine on Maggie’s side of the street. But the street will be a colder, lonelier place when she decides to retire.