For My Dad

Some time before my Father died I asked him about his life .
He was born in Great Patrick street in Belfast and lived upstairs with his Parents , three sisters and a brother . there was a steel tub that hung from a nail in the wall and every Friday it was taken down for everyone to have a bath . Peelers or the police walked the streets on a regular basis and my Grandfather was always one to have a go at them as they passed by .

Around that part of Belfast ,it was known as Sailorstown .

A SAILOR'S LIFE
By Paul McCann
It's a hard life slogging down on the low dock.
The times pressing on, working till six o' clock.
Its one two three four and five potato boats .
Unload four score and more for some hard pound notes.
Day follows day and your pay is ready spent .
Half goes on food and the other half for rent .
Rented out sweat for a penny bet and flip .
Odds or evens gets you some wet on the lip .
Black porters your man and you'll be feeling fine.
Jazzing and jiving around the waterline .
No one knocks the Dockers in the Belfast Crown .
With wind in their sails they come from Sailorstown.

He told me that during the troubles in the 1920’s his father Frank put all their possessions into a hand cart and left their home in the hope of finding a safer place to live . As my grandfather pushed the cart up towards the Oldpark area he could see a new development being build in an area called Ardoyne .
He decided to make his way there in the hope of finding a squat for a while .
As he led the across the lonely and down past the dumps he eventually came to some new houses in Jamaica Street .
He gained entry and after a period of time was permitted to take up residence provided he pay the rent and electricity .

For the first time my fathers family had a bathroom with a tub .
They were happy with the new home comforts and for a while they felt a bit spoilt . Downstairs was a parlour with a separate bedroom for my Granny who was in a wheelchair and upstairs was the bathroom and two other bedrooms .

Outside there was a back yard and a small garden out the front .
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In the 1930.s my father started school in Holy Cross boys on the Crumlin Road . When he was old enough to ride a bike he went away on long bike rides up to the horseshoe bend .

Cycling Around The Horseshoe Bend
By Paul McCann

From a bicycle seat my Father said
you could see fields scattered with wild flowers and pedal on to Chimney Corner or Seven Mile straight and back.

But the big test was not to get out of your seat as you climbed up the hills round the Horseshoe bend , for if you did you’d be in for some slagging and Craic

Bikes where the only thing then that ran up the Crumlin road and
the odd horse and cart you might have past towards the start of the Horseshoe bend

The pace was fast and fair and a good time was shared on their bicycles
that rarely stopped until the ride was over and the day had come to an end .

My Father’s enjoyed life and the outdoors .
He met my M other first on holidays in The Isle Of Man and bumped into her again in Ardoyne .
They started going out to dances in the Newington and The Ardoyne Hall .
Joseph Locke the famous Irish Tenor sang in the Ardoyne Hall on some Friday nights . The hard men of the district always gave Joseph a hard time . But he persisted and came back week after week
Eventually he won over their hearts and anytime Joseph would start to sing the hard men called for order in the hall .’
My Father and Mother were married in Holy Cross Church on the Crumlin Road moved into a home in Duneden Park in Glenard a new housing estate in Ardoyne .

My began working in the building game and worked on the new Silverstream Estate .
One day on the building site the dump truck he was driving ran into some soft ground on one side a tipped over . My Father fell out of the dumper and when the little truck tipped over he was trapped for a while underneath it wheels .

Luckily the ground was very soft and his legs sunk into the mussy earth .
Three men heard him screaming for help and rushed over to assist .
The three men hurriedly pushed the dump truck off my Fathers legs and pulled him to safety . When things had quietened down it took a squad of seven men to push the dump truck back in an upright position again .

Dads best friend was a man called Gerry Valentie .
As we kids got older Dad took us over at weekends to vsit Gerry and his Wife Colette . I played soccer with their son Bernard in their back yard in Bally Murphy . I enjoyed getting over to Ballymurphy as there was more room to move and kick a ball in their back yard compared to our wee street in Ardoyne where some Peelers might fine you or a cranky neighbour would put a knife through your ball .

My Fathers brother was called Frank McCann . He was married to Lily and they moved into a house near my Grandfathers in Jamaica Street .
Sometimes when we visited my Grandparents we briefly called to say hello to Uncle Frank and Aunt lily .

Sometimes I played cops and robbers, or cowboys and Indians in a spot near Jamaica Street called The Dumps .
It was all innocent fun , fingers were six shooters and bullets imaginary .

Now and then my Father gave me a special treat on a Friday night and took me to the flicks .

Dad and I always had a good time going to the movies . Young under
age kids always ran over to my Father and asked him to bring them in .
If kids were accompanied by an adult they’d let you in to see scary movies and Dad liked to bring me to see some of those .
On the way there he would buy me a packet of Spangles .
It was like our special time together . Sometimes my older sister Marian would also come with us top the movies . Usually we went the Forum or the Crumlin Picture House . Now and then we might go the Park Pictures or the Flea Pit as it was otherwise known depending on what was showing .

Back in those days it was fourpence to go to the flicks .

There were little corner shops around Ardoyne back then where you could buy most itmes . There was Billy O’Carroll’s shop and Donaldson’s , Davidson’s , Maggie Walkers and the like that always had a friendly word to say when you went into their shop .

Ardoyne back then were a great big family .

There was the local fish and chippy run by Freddie Fusco’s .
There was McCann’s and The Top Shop or the Castle where you could would sit and share a chip and a soft drink , or if you where able to
An ice cream in a kind of crystal bowl that looked like a boat .

Dad and Mum were both working and met each other briefy on coming and the other going to work .
They took it in turn to mind us kids .

In Jamaica Street where my Grandparent lived a lot of people loved pets .
I recalls their love for cats , dogs , goldfish and birds . Down at the bottom of the street were the Mc Brides , Dixons , and the Mc Kennas . They all shared this cat called Pinky who actually belonged to someone else . Pinky would have her kittens in the house where she would rear them up and then go back home to my Aunt Lilys house . Everyone used to feed Pinky .
She must have been the best fed cat in Belfast . Nearly everyone in the street had a cat that was from Pinky . There were the Johnsons , Mrs Adams , Gibsons , Mc Taggarts , Morgans Bobby Scott and The Beggs .
There were sometimes fights over who actually owned Pinky . Poor little cat .
Pinky eventually died after getting run over by a taxi one day .
Mrs Adams had a huge goldfish and he often asked people if they would go around to the dam at the back of Jamaica Street for little red worms to feed his fish . There were budgies and canaries lofted up on back yard walls a;; around Jamaica Street .

My Father built a loft in Duneden Park and started to breed budgies . He had some very special birds and made a little extra on top of his wage .

My Father got a new job and worked for a seed merchant in Belfast by the name of McCauslands .

He worked hard there for a few years and bought our first family car . It was a green Triumph Herald and we started going everywhere on the weekend .

Dad was a good driver . I remember the time we went down the motorwayIand on the long trip Dad overtook a few cars for the first time . That evening when we got home he tucked me into bed and whispered in my ear .

“What about that son SOM . I hit 75 miles an hour today . “

”Great Dad “
I said and fell fast asleep

When we grew up and went to school Dad got a job in the newe Mitchelin Tyres plant at Glengormany .
One day Dad brought home a black Cocker Spaniel that had followed him home . We asked if we could keep the dog and Mum and Dad said Yes .

We called the dog Lucky .
Dad and I took Lucky for a walk every night up the Glen .
Lucky loved to run wild through the long grass and into the stream . There was an old derelict house there and at night Dad would purposely disturb the bats there that hung on the rafters of the roof . The bats would take flight into the night sky .

I enjoyed walked at night with my Father and Lucky along the paths that only he knew .

Each year from then on we went on holidays .

Blackrock was a popular spot for many years until the year when the booking got mixed up and my Father burnt his hand on a gas heater .
After that we started going camping in County Down at a place called The Lazy B.J .Ranch near Newcastle .

We took Lucky and a large frame tent .
There were seven of us and we all adjusted quite quickly to camping outdoors

My Father build a bedroom for me in the attic of our home in Duneden Park .
I felt really special .

Dad was a great builder and the attic was like a master piece .
I still remember all the people in the street asking to come and see the attic .
Dad built .
Suddenly I had grown up .

My Dad bought me a harmonica in Smithfield market and I was playing a few tunes in a week .
My sisters boyfriend gave me an old guitar .
At that time of my life I never knew much about music but soon began to
pick up tunes from the radio . My mother heard me play with a piece called “ A Mouthful Of Grass ” which was the B side of a song called ,
“All Right Now “ by Free . She was so impressed that she told my Dad .
My Father bought me a guitar instructions book at Smithfield Markets .
The book was entitled “Play In A Day” and in a week I was able to strum three chords , C F and G .

I often escaped to my attic and worked with chord progressions .

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Life was great and we were all so happy .

Then the troubles arrived .
It was 1968 when our way of life came to an abrupt end .

The troubles were still going on and driving my mother into a nervous wreck .
Finally she asked Dad to get us away from it all .
In desperation Dad put in an application form for emigration to Australia

From that moment something shattered the foundations of the life we lived and enjoyed in Belfast . It was 1968 when the first signs of trouble arrived unto our streets in Ardoyne . Daily riots and running gunfights . It wasn’t long before Ardoyne became a battlefield . The village pavements were littered with bricks and broken glass . Nail bombs and petrol bombs were thrown from innocent hands of children . The movement began to strike a blow and the cause was right to blow our city asunder . The bloodbath of Belfast had just begun .

The entire province was at war . Snipers placed themselves on
rooftops as rioting mobs clashed below on the streets .
It was as if civil war had began . Blood had been spilt on the streets
where I had built friendships and played football . School friends in their coffins were being carried to their early graves in cemeteries that were running out of space . As the dead where being buried others were already preparing to get revenge .

Opposite Sides

Everyone ran for cover as the guns came out .
Tommy guns ripped apart Belfast’s streets and no one accepted defeat .

Opposite sides seldom met without a firey debate ,
And conflict resolution , well nobody could ever greet.

Everyone ran for cover as a hail of bullets flew through the bitterness of what was introduced that August night .

M16 Carbines against 303 SLR’s , Brownings and Armalites ,
Internment was the reason for the fight .

Everyone ran for cover as snipers from opposite sides crawled like spiders on rooftops with snider mags three bags full .

Out of the line of fire fell a dawn with dead on both sides and the body count
Grew until the final tally was just cruel .

By Paul Mc Cann

My Father walked a tightrope every day going to work .
One day he missed his life and the car that he would have been was caught in a crossfire and three of the men who where in the car where killed .

Life was getting dangerous in Belfast and then Dad got a phone call at work . It was Australia House and they told him that our application for emigration to Australia was accepted .

Dad told us that evening when he came home from work .
I had been secretly writing poetry and hiding them around the house for fear that anyone should find them .

Like fellas in Ardoyne playedsport and went to discos .
I never knew anybody who wrote poetry .
Except for me of course .

The poetry and prayers I wrote were washed away in the madness and the dreams I had as a child were awoken by the daily nightmare of death and destruction . The hopes my parents had for us
Changed and the future was now looking unsure .

I realised that it would never be the same again .
We had just two weeks to pack and leave Belfast .

The City and people I knew and loved had left forever and I had to watch helpless as my friends died

The town went mad . Everything was burned or looted .
Buses were hijacked and as people tried to get out of the gunfire they
Forgot what they were doing . Panic struck and good people went bad .

I was saying goodbye to the little terrace houses all over Belfast were being burned . Some say in the name of religion .

New residents called the squatters began to move into Ardoyne .
They arrived on trucks accompanied by everything they owned .

Ardoyne was under attack .
We were leaving .

Dad placed an advertisment in the newspaper and all our furniture was sold .

I thought of how hard it was for me and realised how terrible it must have been for my Mum and Dad who had lived there most of their lives .

Around our little home in Duneden Park hundreds of houses burned and a thick cloud of black smoke filled the sky . The horror of the event was seen all around Belfast City .
That day I gre up fast .

On the last day all my friends lined up in the path and I had to walk through them to the taxi .

I can still see their innocent faces .

So we left Ardoyne for a boat to England and a plane for Sydney , Australia.

It was April 1972 and as I put my head down pretending to sleep on the train to London I fought back the tears and I heard my Father say ,
“God love him .i

It was the first time I felt real empathy for my situation .

We soon settled in Australia .
Dad found a job and I got an apprenticeship as a French Polisher .
I began to write poetry again and then remembered that I had left all my first precious works where left behind in the attic in Belfast .

Now lost forever .
My sister was killed in a car crash in Australia not long after arriving and Dad never really recovered and died three years later .

Luckily life was a brief passing through for him .
He was in his fifties when he left this world .
I’ve never forgot him for his bravery and for all he did for me .’

THE END

By Paul McCann