大象传媒

My dad, Frank Curran worked a shipping agency, Palgrave Murphy, which was also an American Consular Agency at Galway docks. I remember spending time visiting there and talking to the 鈥渙ld salts鈥�. Mick Long, was a family friend who had sailed round the Horn . Mick Long had a long grey beard. He mocked the pretensions of some local rock-dodger mariners. 鈥淚鈥檝e rung more water out of my socks than they have ever seen,鈥� he would say. There was also a coal yard, and poor people would come with vouchers for small quantities of free coal to take home loose in prams or home-made trolleys .

Dad would receive instructions by 鈥榩hone, usually late at night at home, from the admiralty to pass on to ships鈥� captains and he says, 鈥渉e was not neutral 鈥渋n this context [ We had one of the few phones in Galway; phone number Galway 45. Dad always dressed extra smartly to give a good impression of Ireland when doing business with foreign visitors and liked to be complimented on his appearance. [FJC] He helped to repatriate Japanese and U S citizens through Galway port (Eire was neutral). Galway had been a liner-port, mainly for North German Lloyd An American, the George Washington, and a Japanese liner called to pick up civilians from all over Europe under Red Cross safe passage for repatriation. I remember being taken on board the Japanese liner, the*** Maru and playing with the shaven-headed children there. These liners would anchor in the Roads and we got out there by open launch. We then had to climb a vertical rope ladder to the deck. The captain gave us a gift of about 10kg. of sultanas, which were in short supply, in an Ali-Baba basket. The container lasted for many years as a laundry basket, and the sultanas somewhat lesser. The open launch was a former lifeboat,bought from survivors. It was later commandeered by the Irish authorities, which were fitting out ships to bring grain from Canada and South America.

Later, dad was involved with buying food for export to England as an agent for The Castlebar Bacon Co. and had the use of a Dodge van, where he taught me to drive along the straight road to Headford: hence my driving skills were learned on my father鈥檚 knee! The food-buying work entailed overnight journeys away from home. Rabbits, game and chickens were the main products, and turkeys at Christmas. At the same time, all the pigeons disappeared from Galway city. Dad would 鈥渟tand market鈥� and buy in small lots- the chickens would be live and he wrung their necks there and then. This was a cash business and he would have hundreds of pounds on his person and in a bookie-type satchel. I remember he had a pretend-automatic pistol (a Webley air pistol with an impressive handle) sticking out of his inside pocket to deter a robbers at the markets. However, the Gardai advised him it was causing alarm, so I played with it at home instead and caused no alarm. Dad had rented sheds in Irwins yard, a livery stable (and undertakers still in business) near Eyre Square on the site where Roche鈥檚 stores now stands. They employed women on piece rate, for example 4 pence each to pluck a turkeys. The birds would then be shipped-out 鈥淣ew-York Dressed鈥� i.e. just plucked, heads and insides intact, by rail in open-sided wooden boxes to England. I remember being taken to the bank to draw cash for pluckers鈥� wages.

We had a lodger from the bacon company who was in dispute about who was the better rifle-shot. Dad and he were volunteers in the LDF.(Local Defence Force) At that time the rifle used was a point 22 Remington that was dad鈥檚 own; later they were issued with Lee Enfield 303 Mk3s. There was a weeklong shooting competition with the best shots each day going forward to the next. Dad won, and there is still a large trophy at my old home. This trophy was too valuable to leave at home, so it was donated as 鈥淐urran Cup鈥� for handball; later reverting- to - donor as the competition fizzled out about 30 years later. It was at this time that dad shot an apple off my head in front of a witness for a dare. He was telling me about William Tell, then. I told mum, of course, when we got home and she seemed surprised, but calm, in a way..

It was on that same day we were discussing 鈥淟ord Haw-Haw鈥�, William Joyce. We listened occasionally to 鈥淕ermany Calling 鈥� Germany Calling鈥� from Hilversum. We had a three-wave Cosser mains radio, 大象传媒 nine o鈥檆lock news and 大象传媒 Saturday Night Theatre were essential listening in our household.
William Joyce was a former resident of Galway who lived in Routledge Terrace, the row of houses behind the Salthill Hotel. He was a classmate of my uncle Millie in the Jesuit school. The Curran family lived nearby at a convent, Seamount, where my grandfather Patrick was a gardener. (Seamount later became the nursing home where I was born.) 鈥淭he Joyce family were an odd family, kept themselves to themselves and spoke their own private language. William Joyce was a prominent fascist in pre war England. He was hanged as a traitor because he held a British Passport and had broadcast for Nazi. Another biography of William Joyce is due to be published in this year

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