WHAT'S YOUR MEMORIES OF GROWING UP? Do you remember these:
Interview with Mark McGrath
Highlights of the celebrations at the 40th Anniversary of O'Kane Park - July 2005
Footage from the events
O'Kane Park Fun Day 1982
Footage from event by Mark Mc Grath
O'Kane Park 19 March 2021 Memorial Garden
In becoming a community there is a bonding that takes place, unseen and unnoticed, as everyone goes about their daily lives, so it is inevitable that there will be sadness for those who died. There are only 79 houses in the park, so when someone died, the feeling of grief was shared and felt by all, particularly if that person was a child or teenager.
It may be seen as intrusive by some people to delve into every sad event that occurred in the park, the death of any young person brings with it a different sadness from that of an adult who has probably experienced all that life has to give.
We think it worthy to record that loss.
For six young people, life was tragically cut short.
Eddie Slattery
Eddie, of No. 29 O’Kane Park was the son of Gerry and Sadie. He died in a tragic accident on 8th April 1971 and it brought much sadness to our park. Eddie was only nine years old and was electrocuted when he ventured into the transformer. One of the first people on the scene today can still remember the horror that day and how the family was affected.
Sharon Mulryan
Sharon, was only 21 months old, just starting to walk and a joy to her parents Sean and Noreen, of No 68 O’Kane Park. The little girl developed a brain tumour and died in May 1971.
Kathleen McGrath
Grief came once again to the park in July 1972 when we learned of the death of young girl, Kathleen McGrath, eldest daughter of Mark and Patsy lived at No 46 O’Kane Park. Aged just 14 and a half, Kathleen was looking after a neighbour’s child when she complained of a headache. She returned to her own house and died a short time later. How can anyone describe the emotions and feelings of the McGrath family when they learned that Kathleen had died of a cerebral brain haemorrhage? It was such a terrible loss.
John McSwiggan
John, of No 54 O’Kane Park was a much loved son and brother who died in September 1982 aged fifteen and a half. There is a tribute to John in the final chapter of this book. No words of ours could express the feelings of sadness at the loss of a loved one that his brother has articulated.
Martin Hackett
Martin, of No 62 Culmore Park was 12 and a half years old when he was tragically killed when a wall collapsed on him in 1983. A son of Tommy and Sarah, the boy is sadly missed by his family and again the park shared the family’s grief.
Gary Devlin
Gary, son of Eileen and brother of Sinead lived at No 49 O’Kane Park and was an active member of our community. He was a youth leader in the C KS summer scheme and he dedicated his time to the local children and held sport and art classes for them. A keen sportsman Gary played in defence position with the Shelbourne football club with the local boys from O’Kane Park. On May 5th 2002 just 23 days before his death, Gary ran the Belfast marathon representing “Tyrone on the Run” with Chris Gallagher, Declan Mullin and Pete Wilds.
In recognition of his achievement “Tyrone on the Run” dedicated a shield to his memory. The Gary Devlin Memorial Shield is awarded each year to the highest ranking team running in the Belfast marathon from County Tyrone. Gary was only 20 years of age when his life was tragically cut short.
In remembrance of these young people, six special trees will be planted by their families in the week of our 40 year celebrations, dedicated to each of these children. The trees will be planted on a patch of ground which will overlook the new children’s playground. This seems an appropriate spot to watch these trees blossom and mature. These children will never be forgotten, as we watch our young children grow up.
Mark Moynihan - MEMORIES
Mark Moynihan lives in London but grew up in O’Kane Park. Here are his memories of growing up in the Park
It’s been about 45 years now since I’ve learnt to open the back gate of my ma’s and 25 minutes less than that, since I landed back, mucked to the eyeballs. But I did like that old Burn.
Sitting now in London, trying to explain where I was brought up is not easy. How do you describe what it was like sliding down Culmore banking, on a turf bag, in the snow, to someone who doesn’t know what a decent layer of snow is, never mind what Culmore banking or turf bags are?
I suppose Londoners could draw some parallels with the play park, community centre and Pete’s Shop, but I don’t think they’d know the roar ‘Rebels Out!’ was your warning to get to safety from a dog and not some war cry.
Nor would they start collecting (if at all) for the Halloween bonfire in August only to watch it all get burnt by the ‘big boys’ every Saturday evening until October 31st.
Yep, you’ve got to admit it was definitely a unique place. My first memories of it involved cycling around on my little blue bike with stabilisers avoiding cars and white dog dung in mid-summer in a pair of wellies. But it wasn’t long before I was playing ‘Paddy Knock Knock’ with the best of them. We soon escalated up to blackjack and jail as well (which is probably called some sort of ASBO these days).
With the jail-house at the ‘top of the entry’, rules and regulations stated that you weren’t allowed out of the bounds of the park or into the house. It’s just a pity they didn’t state that when the game was over, everyone should be told, as I remember hiding in Spracklen’s back yard for two hours.
But those summer evenings were great and it always led on to the street festivals and sometimes even a new pair of wellies. Even when it became just a sports day the craic was always good and even I managed to win things the odd time. Alright it was a penalty competition and crisps and coke were the prizes.
Saying that I was on the under-16 Park United team, that brought home the Strathroy Shied, when Alan Crowne hit the winning penalty. I also got a medal when me and Liam McCrory dressed up as OAPs and had to walk up Culmore Hill and down again - I never worked out what that was all about.
But the one I remember the most has to be the trophy for eating a loaf of egg and onion sandwiches on a trip to Bundoran!
Next came the CKS discos where everybody in the park learnt that ‘Can Can’ type dance (Can't-Can't would be more like it!), blended in with games of 'tig' (to annoy Rosella Kelly and John Convey) and who can forget ‘that’ record collection which can only be described as - Tommy McBride’s.
But without those people who ran (and who run) the CKS, we’d never have got to do anything, or sorry we’d probably have done plenty, just not legal! Fair play to them. It’s good to see it still exists.
Which also bears the question, what else is there? I wonder does the bingo bus still collect half the grown-ups in the park. Is there any hedges being jumped of an evening?Are the boys up at the summer seat? And are parents up and down the park still tortured with weans playing kerb outside their doors? I look back at it all fondly - except for the wellies.
John McCusker - MEMORIES
John McCusker grew up in O’Kane Park, and is well known as a reporter with the Ulster Herald. In this article he recalls how his career could have taken an entirely different direction
John McCusker grew up in O’Kane Park, and is well known as a reporter with the Ulster Herald. In this article he recalls how his career could have taken an entirely different direction:ìIt was the summer of ‘66 before we moved into Number 17, one of the last rows to be occupied, with rear window views out over the rolling green hills of Drumragh.
Omagh was still learning to live without a rail link, some foreign side had won the World Cup, again, and Bob Dylan had shocked fans by signing up an electric backing band. But it was the later musical developments of the late 60s and 70s, however, which would shape many of our lives over the coming decades as we tuned into the changing pace of modern music.
By the end of the 60s the Irish showband scene was on the wind down and a new generation had latched onto the post-Woodstock rhythms of rock and blues. This influence had filtered through to some of those growing up in O’Kane and neighbouring Culmore Parks which saw the emergence here of an abundant amount of musicians per capita not witnessed in Omagh since the Gallows Hill spun out an array of showband talent throughout the 50s and early 60s.
Shortly after moving into the park, the official opening ceremony took place at the corner of the green in the centre of the estate. Neighbours carried kitchen chairs out into the summer sunshine as the late councillor and publican MJ O’Kane (whose name adorned both the park and the Monument Bar) symbolically cut the ribbon.Each season brought forth its own form of entertainment in the park back then. No leisure centres or designer labels, no PCs or broadband Internet connections, and no foreign holidays were needed with Bundoran bang on the doorstep.
One of the highlights of the calendar year was the annual Halloween parties. Preparations began in earnest around the end of August. Tyres were sourced, wooden pallets appeared from nowhere and bottles of lemonade from the Maine lorry were stockpiled in readiness. Any other necessities, Perri crisps, Bazooka Joes or Embassy Regal could be had from Geraldine, Mary or Marion over at Patsy Devlin’s shop nearby.
Summer entertainment was simple back then. The burn ran behind the park, roughly dividing it from where Culmore Park now stands. A stout rope from the back of Paddy Muldoon’s ten-tonner was hung from a tree adjacent to the stream and endless hours were spent swinging from one side to the other. On the far side of the burn lay open countryside. Lakes were abundant with dragonflies, frog spawn and newts (a creature rarely spotted today), cornfields swayed in summer and pine forests, later felled for housing, were there to be explored. Beaten paths led around amaze of fields and thickets, leading down to ‘The Plain’ and on towards the railway lone which took you to the spring well, the rock cuttin’ and Yankie McKenna’s farm.
Following the railway tracks in the opposite direction, down behind McGaghey’s Row towards town, you could step across the sleepers and explore the dusty remnants of Omagh railway station that had been closed since the early part of ‘65.
Before Patsy Devlin opened the park shop, running out of necessities meant a dander down to Paddy McCrystal’s grocers just around the corner from the Railway Bar - now the Coach Inn - then owned by Johnny and Mary Campbell. Later Johnny Meyler opened a modern shop front (where Oliver Gormley’s furniture store now stands). The Troubles had little or no direct impact on the area. Armoured police cars toured on a regular basis, sometimes accompanied by army Saracens (or ‘pigs’ as they were better known). Bernadette Devlin visited the park at election time and mysterious men sold copies of the Barleycorn’s ‘Men Behind the Wire’ door-to-door in the dead of night.24-a-side soccer on the green was commonplace with piled-up jumpers marking the goalpost uprights.
Scorelines of 32-28 weren’t unheard of as up to a dozen players slugged from the same bottle of lukewarm tap water - Premiership or what!Night-time entertainment was always more interesting. Any excuse and a party was called. Some poor individual’s house was commandeered and furniture re-arranged. With a record player installed and DJ appointed, it was onto the Tuberg Gold, spin the bottle and blind dates with dolls from as far afield as Rouskey.
Music was possibly as big a turn-on for a teenager then as it is today. Armed with a Truetone plasticky transistor tucked under the pillow, you could tune into Radio Caroline, Luxembourg on 208MW, north Sea International or Radio 1. You were ale to pick up the latest American releases courtesy of the likes of Kid Jensen, Johnny Walker, John Peel or the occasional gem from Larry Gogan down there on RTE Radio 1. Sunday afternoon gigs in the INF brought in the likes of Scripto from Letterkenny or Toejam from Derry, before we all graduated to the Royal Arms to catch groups like Horslips, Mushroom and Thin Lizzy.
It may have been Tommy Muldoon (now the leather-trousered one of Boneshaker) who initially suggested forming a group. Anyone who could hammer out a tune was eligible to join. Stack eventually became the agreed title. Some came and went, but the core included Tommy on vocals and bass, Harry McGrath (‘Top 20’ guitar) Dino McGartland (drums-well actually a turf bag skin stretched over the shell of a drum) John Houston (guitar) and yours truly on a Farfisa keyboard hooked up to a Carlsboro amp.
The numbers were pretty basic...Johnny B Goode, Silver Machine, Van’s Gloria and Lizzy’s Whiskey in the Jar for starters. Status Quo’s Caroline and Paper Plane were easily rattled off and John Houston showed off his skills on the Horslips traditional number, Johnny’s Wedding.Practice sessions soon overtook homework schedules and after a winter of rehearsals the band was ready for the road. With gear that fitted in the back of a Ford Anglia, Stack took on on a supporting gig before the weekly Friday night disco in Clanabogan Hall. Initial nerves were soon quashed and with growing confidence the group accepted further performances. Fuelled on Coke cans full of Vladivar and lime cordial, they played a few more gigs in the old Community Centre, St Pat’s gym and St Mary’s Hall (in the bowels of the Sacred Heart Church).
Whatever happened to the band after that is anyone’s guess. Each went his own separate way. It may have been the old ‘musical differences’. The touring may have taken its toll. Or maybe the ‘Coke’ had done the damage! Who knows?
Most of the original line-up, however, are still involved in music in one sense or another today. Dino (with brother Pee Wee) ‘does the pubs’ and keeps the memory of the late Rory Gallagher alive. The keyboard player keeps his hand in editing The Scene.
Tommy fronts Boneshaker along with other O’Kane Parkies, Raymie Devlin and Stevie Chesters. And John Houston hit the headlines some time back as a quarter of the Beatles tribute band alongside Paul Maguire, Aidan Given and Duke Colgan.
Forty years on, the newts have all but disappeared from the region. But in recent times they have been replaced by a similar, but slightly fiercer from of reptile. A few years ago, as a reporter with the Ulster Herald, I returned to O’Kane Park to pay a visit to Martin Kelly who had been keeping big cats - pumas, lions and tigers - as well a tarantula spiders and highly poisonous snakes, in his home and garden for some time. Martin led me to a wooden shed in the garden. Once inside he bolted the door. Towards the back of the shed was a medium sized plastic garden pond, balanced on bricks and filled to the brim with water. Reaching into the pond, he produced a three-foot long alligator. With one arm wrapped tightly round the reptile’s body and a hand gripped firmly under its chin, he brought the alligator, jaws snapping, closer and closer. My notes were brief. Hurried thanks were exchanged. And I made a hasty retreat back to the office to write up one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever worked on. Characters then, characters still!
Sing me back home with a song I used to hear...Make my old memories come alive...Take me away and turn back the years...And sing me back home before I die - Merle Haggard
Ann Keys - MEMORIES
Ann eloquently describes her memories of that famous ‘burn'
The Burn half circled the back of O’Kane. It curved and hissed like a snake. Passed the Centre, trickling onwards. Towards Culmore Hill. When spring arrived, so did the investigations.
We’d watch the water bubble and splurt. We’d fish with jam-pots, scooting pot-fulls of Minnows, shining like fools’ gold in the crystal brook.
There’s a newt, quick grab it.
They looked like lizards, so swift...And as dark as coal... difficult to catch, but catch we did.
Sitting on the grassy bank we’d gaze at our jars. Then following the Burn up the cemented tunnel. The water turned and came down the second tunnel.
Imagined rats scrammed past our soaked gutties...The Burn then led us home, towards the shop...Towards penny chews and Bubblies and to the Sounds of the park.
Ann Keyes 200
Press Clipping - MEMORIES
Gary Doherty fundraising
Press ClippingS - MEMORIES
CKS Afternoon Club
O'KANE PARK SHOP
Michael McSwiggan, Jimmy McSwiggan - MEMORIES
Michael and Jimmy grew up in O’Kane Park, and now live in Australia with their own families.
Growing up in O’Kane Park. Walking home from Knocknamoe with any old coat on as long as it was warm. Robbing other bonfires to make O’Kane Park’s bonfire the biggest and the best.Playing in the long grass and building forts and tunnels. No McDonalds or Wellworths. Knowing everyone in the Park.
I’m talking about hide and seek in the Park. Kerb Ball, Pitch and Toss, Fences and Hedges, soccer, jumping the burn and garage roofs. Playing chestnuts and marbles, Kiss Chasey, Spin The Bottle, Truth Dare Kiss Command Promise.
Robbing orchards. Where we made huts in the long grass and tried to destroy every other gang’s hut. Catching newts and tadpoles in the quarry off the Old Dromore Road, then trying to keep them alive in jars hidden in our own coal sheds.
Catching ladybirds in your hand, then screwing up your face when your hand turned orange. Holding a rope across the road at night and pulling it up as a car approached - bloody dangerous game! It turned out to be a police car. We all scattered expect for one girl, Lisa McGonigal, who froze. After being asked what she was doing, she was asked what her name was. Without missing a beat she said ‘Philomena Begley’!
Making kites, playing hopscotch, and go-karts - no pram was safe if it as left alone, for the wheels would be gone! We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the Culmore hill, only to find that out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem. Improving your bicycle with ‘chopper’ handlebars. Skipping, hand ball, handstands, elastics, soccer on the green and behind the shop at the bottom of the park, stepping in puddles, mud pies. The smell of the sun and fresh cut grass in spring and summer time. In summer, Vincent the ice cream man handing out soft cones, and on Friday nights in winter, the chip van and the hot chips were wrapped up in newspaper and the ink stained your hands. The ‘Rag and Bone man’ had a big truck and gave out free balloons. Coal was delivered by the McCuskers, and McCrorys delivered the milk. There was a really, really old binman, who manhandled the bins into the rubbish truck.
Pennychews, penny drumsticks and Bazooka chewing gum with the wee cartoon inside that if you collected enough, you could send away and get a fart bag or sea monkeys!You’d get your pocket money on a Saturday and you’d buy a big bottle of Maine lemonade from the lorry doing deliveries, for 5p!On Saturdays going to the cinema down the middle of the town with the McBrides, and on the way stopping at Hillbank Dairy and buying a wee bottle of Shandy and sweets.
Watching TV - Top of the Pops, John Craven’s Newsround, Blue Peter, Z Cars, Love Thy Neighbour, Dixon of Dock Green, and the Saturday morning cartoons like The Magic Roundabout with Dougall and Mr Zebedee and Scooby Doo. When around the corner seemed a long way, and going into town seemed like going somewhere, When running away meant you did laps of the field because you weren’t allowed to cross the road.
Wasp and bee stings, cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians. Drawing all over the road with chalk, climbing trees and building cubbies out of every sheet your mum had in the cupboards. Walking to school no matter what the weather was like. Or going to primary school on the bus singing ‘We’re on our way to Wembley - we shall not be moved’. I don’t know how the bus driver listened to us!
Salad cream or HP sandwiches after school. Running til you were out of breath. Laughing so hard that your stomach hurt. Jumping on the bed. Ghost stories with the next door neighbours. Pillowfights, spinning round, getting dizzy and falling down was cause for the giggles.The worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
Water pistols and spud guns were the ultimate weapon. Soccer cards in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle. Eating raw jelly, sucking on an ice lolly. Dunlop black and white baseball boots, ‘Altar Boy’ black slippers. You knew everyone in your street - and so did your parents! It wasn’t odd to have two or three ‘best friends’. Going to Midnight Mass then not being able to sleep a wink on Christmas Eve. Pretending to be asleep for the tooth fairy.We didn’t have Playstations, Nintendo 64, X Boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on Cable TV, videos surround sound, mobile phones, personal computers or Internet chat rooms, We had friends! We went outside and find them. We fell out of trees, got cut, and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
They were just an accident and no-one was to blame but us. We had fights and punched each other and got black and blue and learned to get over it. We rode our bikes an or walked to a friend’s house and knocked on the door, or rang the bell or just walked in and talked to them. Some people at school weren’t as smart as others, so they failed a year and were held back to repeat the year - horrors! Tests were not adjusted for any reason. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of - they actually sided with the law - imagine that!
Our baby cots were covered with bright coloured lead based paint. We had no child-proof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets. and when we rode our bikes we had no helmets - not to mention the risks we took hitchhiking. As children we would travel in cars with no seatbelts or air bags. Riding in the back of a tractor to collect hay or turf was always a special treat. We ate cakes, bread and butter, and drank lemonade with sugar in it but we were never overweight because were were always outside playing. We shared one soft drink with four friends from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.To all of you kids, try putting away the Game Boy, the TV, the computer and to all the parents, if your kids don’t sue or divorce you they might actually thank you!
When nobody owned a pure bred dog. When 50p was decent pocket money. When you’d reach into a muddy gutter for 10p. When nearly everyone’s mum was there when the kids for home from school. It was a great privilege when your uncles visited and brought take-away Chinese. Discos for us kids at the CKS Community Centre.When any parent could discipline any child, or feed him, or use him to carry groceries and nobody, not even the kid, thought a thing about it.When being sent to the principal’s office was nothing compared to the fate that awaited a misbehaving student at home. Basically we were in fear of our lives but it wasn’t because of drive-by shootings, drugs or gangs, Our parents and grandparents were a much bigger threat - some of us are still afraid of them!We remember when decisions were made by going ‘eeny-meeny-miney-mo’ and ‘Race Issues’ meant arguing about who ran the fastest. ‘Money Issues’ were handled by whoever was the banker in Monopoly.
Terrorism was when the older kids were at the end of your street with pea-shooters waiting to ambush you. Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a catapult. When having a fight at school meant all the people watching would stuff the boots into the guys fighting.W would leave home in the morning and play all day as long as we were back when the street lights came on. No-one was able to reach us all day, and there were no mobile phones - unthinkable!
"Now didn’t that bring back some fond memories? If you can remember most of these you’re an O’Kane Park legend! "
To all the younger kids in the Park, you probably don’t remember any of this but for the over 30s it’s very familiar, and so true.A lot of people have come and gone from the park since I lived in it, and a a lot of people have come to the park since I left it. You are the new generation that will have the pleasure of the next 40 years in O’Kane Park, bringing with is happiness, sadness, and all of us, ex-pats and present residents, had our share of both.
You, the new generation, didn’t have the pleasure of knowing my brother. He was a happy-go-lucky, good looking, kind-natured boy. He played in bands, had a go at all sports and did OK in them all. He never feared anything and had a go at everything, then without warning he died. Nobody got to say goodbye. We are all torn to pieces with a sadness I cannot describe, a sadness that many people in the Park have experienced with their own personal loss, then it happened again.
My nine year old niece Ciara died and nobody got to say goodbye or ‘I love you’ either. These were very hard times. These were the times when the people of O’Kane Park, Culmore Park and surrounding areas showed their best. They helped, cared and shared in every way at these time. I thank you all very much. I would ask all of you to love everyone, like it says in the Bible, and be happy. God knows we don’t. I love you John. I love you Ciara RIP .
by Michael McSwiggan, Jimmy McSwiggan.
"To all the young people from O’Kane Park, we wish you all success and happiness.Almost all of you were cheeky, noisy, scruffy, happy individuals who did no real harm to anyone. We want to say to you ‘God bless’, and never forget where you came from - O’Kane Park!"
More Memories from Growing up
Here people talk about their Memories - These were first published in the Book created for the 40th ANNIVERSARY
O’Kane Park was a place populated by young families, and children who grew up in the Park recall endless summer days spent wandering through fields, playing games, and getting up to mischief. They also witnessed the changing landscape round their homes, as new housing estates sprang up around them:ìI remember the houses being built up in Culmore Park....
I remember our Damien taking me up one day and playing in them, I followed him. Maybe it was Mitchells house I was in, he went up the stairs and I followed him and I went through the roof and I hurt my legs or something and he had to take me down. He got battered for taking me up there and he tried to convince mummy that I followed him but I was a real tomboy at that time. I was always fishing out the back in the stream and catching minnows and I caught a minnow one time when they were out playing football on the green and he came in to get a drink of water and he drank my minnow and everything!
games
The children of the Park had active imaginations and would happily speed hours inventing games:
We had one classic. It was Fences and Hedges. You started off from one row of houses to the other...we went through everybody’s front garden and leapt the hedges and...we were up to badness, we used to change people’s gates and change their washing lines, take their washing and put it onto someone else’s line but that was how it was then we just made our own fun, there were no video games or anything. We were kicked out first thing in the morning because if you stayed in the house any longer your ma would’ve found you something to do and that was us, we didn’t come home until the evening time.
You went in and got fed and you were back out again, we’d be in the fields and there at night time there were games like kiss catch and spin the bottle. I’ve got horrendous memories of spin the bottle but mainly because it never come in my direction! We’d have sang songs, had skipping ropes, and you’d have sat round on we groups...dollies and the pram, you would have gathered the wood. You’d have seen the seasons changing by the games that we played.
....we were kicked out in the morning and nobody looked about us ‘til late at night but everybody knew where we were. We were in the park somewhere. You couldn’t do that with a child now, you’d have to see them all the time.
school
A lot of the children would have gone to the old Culmore school across the fields.I only went to old Culmore school for a couple of months but there was a woman there, Miss Mossey and she had a big range in her classroom, it was the only form of heating, she used to put the milk onto it and warm the milk and I swear that that’s where my distaste of milk comes from, so I’ll blame her if I get osteoporosis or whatever in a few years! There was no school meals, you had to take your lunch with you wrapped up in a Mother’s Pride wrapper.
Jam sandwiches and sugar sandwiches if there was no jam and we had glass bottles for milk
shopping
...John Meyler was the only shop, we got sent down there for the messages, John Meyler would have done deliveries and he would have had loads of boxes and you’d have gone in, got him distracted and the hand would have gone in and down into the box, your da might have sent you for 10 fags ‘he hasn’t got them fags but he’d got those ones there will they do?’ and we pocketed the money!
Money was scarce and holidays were almost unheard of, so these girls escaped into their imaginations, with a few useful props: ì(somebody’s father ) had an old black car out the back, we used to get into it and let on we were going to Bundoran. We’d go out of the car and go and paddle in the burn and let on we were in Bundoran! We went for miles in that car, I remember your father coming out to us one day and saying ‘where are yous going today girls?’ and everybody shouted ‘Bundoran!’
Very few people had a means of transport in O’Kane park, and if they did, as many passengers as possible were crammed in, and if you didn’t have a car, there was always Ronnie Blythe’s bus:
There was no cars in O’Kane Park. I remember Joe Murray having a volkswagen Beetle type thing and us all standing looking at it, because the engine was in the boot. He was one of the very few people in the park that had a car.
trips
My ma had the Hillman Imp, that was her first car. My mummy passed her driving test and there was four of us and my da and we piled into it. We put blankets in, books and everything .....it was a very small car and we sat in the boot... you wouldn’t get away with that these days, no child seats, no restrainers or anything, as many as you could pile in went on a day out...then we had Ronnie Blythe’s bus came on a Sunday and Mrs Mc Cullagh’s husband they called him the Outlaw at the time, he used to get in the back of a bus with a mouth organ and we all piled into it. I don’t even think there was a door on it, it was a deathtrap. I think you had to pay 50p or something to get into it and mummy was the supervisor. The bus went to Bundoran, it was a real shack an old red thing, and Ronnie probably would have been full at the time! It was a big thing for us getting up to Bundoran because the old Dromore Road you’d have seen the cars going up on a Sunday...again very few, but you knew where they were going, and that was a chance for us to get there, when we eventually got the Community Centre...that was after years, one of the main thing, they got a bus and they would have taken us to Bundoran or Rossnowlagh and I mind one of the first times we ever went to Rossnowlagh Ciaran Deveney got off the bus and he says to my ma ‘Jesus Mrs McGonigle would you look at the size of thon burn’! and that boy must have been about nine or 10 at that time.
halloween
Halloween was a big event for everyone in the Park, especially the children, and they spent months collecting wood for the bonfire:
At Halloween, the bonfire was the big thing for us and now the bonfire is still on the same site that it has been for years, but the difference is now they’ve got tyres, it’s a lot more dangerous now than it was then. I was always there pulling trees down with the boys and you never had no shopping trolley to take them home with, you had to pull them up the road, you might have left half of them down the road. Once, somebody lifted a suite of furniture and put it in the bonfire. This woman was getting her house renovated and we had a spare suite, it was black pvc with orange seats, they left it back and put it in the back yard but we never got time to get it into the house, and that night it was in the bonfire. And mammy says ‘dear Jesus my suite of furniture’s in the bonfire!’ I thought maybe my da had got drunk and given it to them but we don’t know the real story of it!
summer schemes
We still sing the songs we had in the concert when we’re out...It was my birthday a few weeks ago and we were all out and we were singing all the songs we sung in the Top of The Town bar. We were all at it hammer and tongs and everyone was looking over going ‘what in the name of Jesus are they at?’
It was Joe Hill and the Black and White Minstrels, all the songs from them, they were our anthems for years, still are! That all came about it was one summer, this all centred round the Community Centre, we’d have never have had that if we didn’t have that building Mary Livingstone and Frank Akien and Frank Gillease and Joan Warburton, they came together and decided we were going to put a show on. Now for the whole two months of that summer we were in that Community Centre from first thing in the morning til last thing at night practising and practising and practising, and it’s just a shame that there wasn’t a video then because that show was brilliant for kids.
There was no funding, no money from the Council.... the costumes and everything else we made. Mary Livingstone took us and we practised up in her house. She had me pinned up in one of her own dresses I’ll never forget it, it was a green flowery creation it was absolutely horrendous when you look back at it now but I thought it was gorgeous! The amount of work that was put into it by the parents and the children themselves, it was a fantastic summer and out of that show, we’re still singing the songs.
As we have said before, money was scarce for many people in O’Kane Park, and in many households, the man, as head of the family, would have struggled to find employment, often travelling across the water and sending money back home: My father worked in the training centre. It was a long time before he got a steady job, he eventually got a job in Nestles but my father and loads of other men would have had to go and work in Scotland and England, work on bridges and things like that there, sending money home.
My father was away for years...there was loads of unemployment, my mother was left to rear us and she had to go out working herself as a nurse...a few left...some to Australia left at a young age. ìI look at a lot of the young girls now and their aspirations are so high now that they’re going to go on to university.
Then there were very few people (going to university), it wasn’t thought of, the money just wasn’t there then. You came out of school, you either went to the co-op, the factory or you became a nurse, because there was little or no other jobs in and around Omagh. The shirt factory was a big, major employer and Nestles....that’s where my father got his first permanent job. I see these girls coming in here at lunchtime and they hand over £20 they spend £3 or £4 on their lunch. Our school meals was 50p on a Monday. My ma used to line the four 50ps up on the mantlepiece and you took that on a Monday morning, mine went on a packet of fags. It was 13 and a half p for a packet of Regal and you starved for the rest of the week or else you bullied someone else into giving you money!
cks disco
For young teenagers,the CKS disco was a real event in their lives, where they paraded the latest fashions:ìThe Community Centre would’ve come into its own at Christmas they would have had a bazaar and a tombola and everything else and they did have a run of bingo, but for us it would’ve been the discos on the Thursday night. It’d be packed, they’d come from Strathroy and everything.
Black tights was the thing, everybody wanted to wear black tights and my mother said you’re not wearing black tights but eventually my granny came over from Scotland and she said ‘if the cutties want black tights....let them have it’, so you got enough money for a pair of black tights a week, but at this stage of the game, the blacker the tights the better so you had about three or four pairs piled on, your toes could’ve been out of them and you tied a big knot down in them but...it was the black tights and the long skirts. Lizzy she had this long green pencil skirt and there was a pleat in the front of it.
I had the skirt on this night and we fell out and we were out by the Grange park and she said ‘you get my skirt off’ and the old bitch made me walk home with the skirt and all off me! but I couldn’t say anything to me ma because your uniform was the only clothes that you had then and I used to hate on Saturday because I had to take it off, at least we were all the same then. But you’d have went out of the house with the uniform on and into the back shed and on went the skirt and that was you away.
nights out
After they had grown out of the CKS discos, these women saved what little money they had for nights out further afield:ìWe went to dances in Knocknamoe, then we used to go on a Saturday night to Gortin on the bingo bus and then the Picadour Inn and then to the Gortin Road Rouskey social centre and that was a mineral bar only, no alcohol.
The Picadour Inn stopped dead on 12 o’clock because it was going into the Sabbath and there was no more alcohol provided then down there. There were men on one side and women on the other side. Alcohol wasn’t a big thing when we were growing up, you dabbled but not the way the teenagers drink now....I mind Mary Mills she lived in Culmore Park and her sister Sheila, she would have looked a lot older than the rest of us, so we decided how are we going to get this carry out of the Coach Inn, so we decided that we’d write this note and ...this note said that Mary was having a Tupperware party and ...’please furnish Sheila with the items listed below’... and I think we had a half bottle of this and a bottle of that, we hadn’t a clue...we took a swallow of it anyway and the night progressed and we ..all had to had to be in home at 10.30, imagine trying to get in past your mother ‘hello I’m going to my bed’, but the drink was stashed in the bushes behind Patsy Devlin’s shop and I think (somebody’s brothers), them ones they all got it then on the Sunday and there wasn’t a word we could say. You couldn’t say ‘that’s our drink’ because we would’ve been beat stupid if we’d been caught with it but that was then, part of us finding ourselves.
I remember I fancied the pants off Peter Sammons and I remember the night I got him and we were out his back and I was just about to plant one on him and his ma went ‘Peeeeter!’ and I thought ‘after all these weeks that woman is calling him in now!
Dating
When it came to dating, communication was a bit of a problem, as there were no such thing as sending texts or using mobile phones:We were about the only ones who had a phone in the park and Lizzy was saying she had met this guy in Dublin at a cross border thing and she had given him our telephone number. We had this call and we’re still doing it now....’doodle doodle doooo’ that was the O’Kane Park call! So our phone went and it was for her so I called her and said ‘you’re wanted on the phone’. ìIt was the O’Kane Park call, you would have done it if you wanted the gang, and everybody would have assembled on the green.
The local clergy often visited, and this woman remembers that ìyou’d have run if you seen them coming.
I remember Fr Doherty coming to our house and your mother and father would put on airs and graces whenever they were around. My father always addressed my ma as ‘mother’ and she would have addressed him as ‘father’ so he was sitting this day anyway, at that time we had the gas meters in the house and she came in and said ‘father you wouldn’t happen to have a shilling for the gas?’ and he put his hand in his pocket and said ‘well this is the first house I’ve come to where I’ve been asked to pay for my own tea!’
The girls recall one man who was a real favourite among the youngsters, Frank Gillease:
He was just a character. He was just in for the kids, was always good craic and he taught us all how to jive, he was a good jiver and he would have had us up in his back garden...learned how to jive up on the door handle. He would’ve had the hose up on the garden line, there was no swimming pool then and we’d all be sliding down in on a bit of a plastic bag down the back yard. He was always there you could always talk to Frank. He was just a man you could have went to if there was anything wrong, there was never nothing wrong in them days, but you would have always turned to him.
For these women who grew up in O’Kane Park, the quality of new housing is not as good as their old neighbourhood: When you look at them (the houses in O’Kane Park)... they’re all good houses, not sitting on top of each other. The house that I’m in now...I had more privacy in O’Kane Park than the house I’m living in. There no houses in front of your at the back of you ....now everybody’s houses are on top of each other.
The women are still proud of their neighbourhood,and are hopeful that the community spirit will remain, as many sons and daughters of the original residents have remained:ìI live in Culmore Park and I bought mummy’s house as well so at least it’s going to stay with us...like I said before people didn’t move out of O’Kane Park.
When people bought houses, it was people who were living in the houses bought them. When somebody died, everybody rallied round. It’s still the same, again the community centre that was used, once the remains came back, everybody went into the community centre, it’s the heart of the community, it’s kind of died out. I think it’s because there’s a break in the generation. We had grew up and started running to the discos, and that community centre wasn’t used, we got older,....now the kids are starting to use it again. My children go to it. We still live in Culmore Park, my son goes down to the centre a couple of nights a week, so it’s two generations.