The Village People. (Page 02)

When Tommy McGrath passed away in August 1983, Dunmore East lost one of its oldest and best-known residents. He was 84 years of age.

Throughout his long life, Tommy maintained a steadfast connection to the sea and to the fishing industry — as a fisherman, kipper producer, and respected fish buyer whose reputation was known in ports and markets across Ireland and the British Isles.

His funeral at Killea Church on the Tuesday evening drew one of the largest gatherings ever seen in the parish, a reflection of the esteem in which he was held. The following morning, his interment was equally well attended, with friends, neighbours, and fellow fishermen coming together to pay their final respects to a man whose life was so closely bound to the story of Dunmore East itself.

Journalist, Kathleen O’Connor, wrote an appreciation in the Munster Express of September 9th, 1983, I have reprinted it here:

Small things, if anything, best highlight the fact that Tommy McGrath, of 3 Queen’s Terrace, Dunmore East, Co. Waterford, was among the best-known and most respected fishermen around the entire coastline.
Small things — like the time we first went to Dublin and were told to go to Howth, stick our heads over the wall, and shout, “Tiny sent us.” We were assured we’d get all the fresh fish we wanted. We did, and the ploy worked perfectly. But sadly now, Tiny won’t be sending anyone, anywhere, anymore. Tommy McGrath — “Tiny” to so many — set out on his final voyage on the 29th of August, and all we can hope is that in his own “Fiddler’s Green,” he has found true and lasting peace.

We had the privilege of knowing Tommy since the early 1950s. At first, impressions weren’t great — he could seem gruff, perhaps a little unsmiling. But he, more than anyone, proved the truth of that old saying: “never judge a book by its cover.” Behind the gruff exterior beat a heart bigger than the Hook itself.

After he retired and set aside his nets, Tommy became a familiar sight driving his Volkswagen around the village — always, it seemed, on errands of kindness. He’d take neighbours to the nurse, the doctor, or the hospital; to the bank, the city, or the chapel. After his funeral, one young woman recalled that when she was a student nurse and missed her train, Tommy drove her all the way to Limerick Regional Hospital, saving her from the wrath of the Sister Tutor. She remembered how he didn’t even stop for a cup of tea — just turned the car at the gate and drove straight home again.

Of course, he enchanted us all. We listened to his stories on winter nights and summer days alike — tales of big catches and small, good times and lean ones, calm seas and sudden storms. His marvellous memory and sharp wit shone through in every one. After his passing, more stories surfaced — seamen recalling his quiet generosity, remembering the times he slipped a few pounds into their hands when the days were hard and the catches poor.

Tommy is gone now, but he leaves behind a wealth of cherished memories — and the enduring sense that there is still more good than bad in this world. For many of us, he has left behind a void that will never truly be filled.

Kathleen O’Connor.

This is Peg Power, photographed outside the Fisherman’s Hall in what appears to be the early 1960s. Peg was well known in Dunmore for her community spirit and the tireless energy she poured into village life. From jumble sales to fundraisers and every kind of local gathering, she was always at the centre of things, helping to keep the community lively, entertaining, and well connected.

Alongside her friends Patty Whittle and Biddy Taylor, Peg did an enormous amount for the village over the years. Together, they organised Sunday night dances in the Fisherman’s Hall, raising funds for the restoration of the Convent Chapel or for any worthy cause that needed support. Those dances became a highlight of the week for many in the village—even if, by all accounts, there wasn’t a drop of stout involved!

Her daughter Elizabeth was rarely far from her side, always keeping a caring eye on her mother. If Peg ever looked a little run down, Liz would hurry over to Jones’s pub, later known as Barlow’s and the Anchor, and return with an “emergency” small bottle of Guinness—believed at the time to be a tonic for strength and iron. It was a simple but thoughtful gesture, no doubt much appreciated by Peg, and a reminder of the kind of daughter every mother would wish for.

Peg Power remains remembered not just for her community efforts, but for the warmth, humour, and neighbourly spirit she brought to all she did—she was a true pillar of Dunmore life.

This is my grandfather, William Rutter, photographed on the Dock Road in the early 1960s, I’d say. I’m not sure what exactly he was doing with the table — perhaps he carried his barber’s tools with him when he went out walking, just in case he spotted someone in need of a trim.

There were no hairy-headed hippies in Dunmore when he was on the job — everyone knew where they stood when it came to a haircut: short back and sides, neat and tidy. He took great pride in his work.

I often wonder what he’d have thought of the village during the 1970s, when young fellas went around with hair halfway down their backs. I don’t think he’d have been too impressed. In his day, a sharp cut said something about a man — and he made sure no one left his chair looking anything less than respectable.

This photo is taken from one of the British Pathe newsreel films about the Shamrock Factory in Dunmore, made in the early 1960's. The factory was on based on the quay at that time. Dinah O'Regan is the first lady in the photo and Paddy O'Connor is the man. I don't know who the other two ladies are.

This is a photograph taken by David Campbell in 1969, during one of his trips home from America. It captures a moment between some familiar faces of the time. Standing on the left is Jack Doyle, with his young daughter Loretta. Alongside them are David Campbell’s wife and children, and Jack Murphy. The exact setting is uncertain — it may have been taken at the Haven Hotel or perhaps the Candlelight, and most likely on a Sunday morning.

A group of boys swear allegiance to the flag and promise to make Dunmore great again. The photo was taken by Helen Murphy in the mid 1960's.

Mrs. Dick Murphy, on the left, was a schoolteacher and taught in Killea school during the 1970's. I think she was in Bellelake School or Carbally School before that. The Nun in the centre is Mother Peter and Mother Agnus is on the right in the photo. I don't know the other Nun's name or who the man is. The photo was taken in Mrs. Murphy's garden.

 A photo of Barbara, Margaret and Audrey Rutter with Eileen Cullinane on the right of the picture, and I'm the incredibly cute baby.

George Roche, Tessy Fitzgerald and Carol Power.

This photograph captures a moment between three familiar Dunmore faces: Avril “Murphy” Horgan, Jack Doyle and Joefy Murphy. The picture was originally shared by Avril on the “I Am Dunmore” Facebook page, where she added a note about Jack’s role in their childhood. For the Murphy children, Jack wasn’t just a neighbour or a friend—he filled the role of both uncle and father when they were young. Avril reflected on the closeness between the families, saying, “We had such a bond with the Doyle’s, Linda, Peg, Jack & Tom that we thought we were related.” 

Judging by the clothing and the ages of those pictured, the scene likely dates from the late 1950s, with Jack probably in his mid-twenties at the time. 

John and Josie O'Connell on their wedding day. Johnny was always referred to as Johnny Honda, the origin of the name I don't know. He worked for many years in Power's Seeds and later out on the Industrial Estate as a grounds man. I always remember him with a smile on his face, he liked a good laugh.

Billy Hearne was originally from Passage East, but settled in Dunmore and was a popular figure around Dunmore when I was a child. He was noted for his good singing voice.

This photograph, taken in the late 1950s, captures a quiet moment of rest for the Doyles—Tom, Linda, and Peg—joined by a young Joefy Murphy. The four of them sit against a neat stack of freshly cut corn, taking a well-earned break after harvesting an entire field by hand. It was the kind of work that bound families and neighbours together, long before machinery transformed the rhythm of rural life.

You can almost imagine the day unfolding around them. Tom, no stranger to hard labour, would likely have swapped the cornfield for the sea that afternoon, heading out to fish as he’d done countless times before. Linda, meanwhile, would have donned her conductor’s bag and taken her place on the local bus route, a familiar face to everyone who stepped aboard the afternoon bus to town. Peg—ever the organiser—would already have been turning her attention to the upcoming Harvest Dance in the Fisherman’s Hall, ensuring every detail was just right for one of the villages’s most cherished annual gatherings.

And then there’s young Joefy, taking it all in. One can easily imagine the thoughts stirring in his mind, having witnessed Tom using a scythe all morning, “Farm work is not for me—I’m going to be a fisherman.”

John Grey arrived in Dunmore in the early 1980s, when the village still moved to its quiet rhythm of fishing, music, and the colourful characters that gave the place its charm. It didn’t take him long to find his way to the Anchor Bar, where the ever-hospitable Paddy Green welcomed him with open arms. Before long, his caravan—towed into the village by Kevin the Goat with his tractor—was settled behind the pub, and John had found his place among friends.

In time, he began working in the Candlelight, where the food became his true delight. He had a taste for garlic and bay leaves, which grew along the park wall, and he was rarely known to sit down to a dinner without the flavouring of both. If you went into Bill's during the 80's and smelt garlic, you'd know that John was there. 

His easy-going nature, humour, and generosity of spirit earned him respect throughout the village, and his presence became woven into daily life in Dunmore. When the day finally came that John passed away, the loss was felt deeply. The village mourned more than just a familiar face at the bar or a hand in the Candlelight kitchen—it had lost a true character, whose stories, warmth, and personality left their mark on all who knew him.

A photo taken in Bill's on John's 80th birthday. 

A photo of Joe O’Toole Snr, taken at the O’Toole farmhouse in Liccaun. 

For many in Dunmore, the name Jimmy Cullinane still brings back a smile and a fond memory. He lived in one of the houses behind Glenville Terrace with his wife Mary, better known as Cissy, and their two children, Michael and Eileen. 

Jimmy, also known as Slim, was the driving force of the village, the man behind the wheel of the Dunmore bus, working for Seamus Lynch. I can still picture him walking down the road after his lunch each day with his leather money bag in hand and a smile on his face. He’d give the bus a quick sweep before setting off on his route. Then, with a cloud of exhaust fumes trailing behind him and Consulate cigarette smoke blowing out the window, Jimmy would coax the old bus up Long’s Hill, stopping to gather passengers at the Dock before heading into town.

Away from work, Jimmy had his share of pastimes. He loved a game of Bingo and was even mentioned in a newspaper report in 1970 after winning £50 at a night in Tramore—a tidy sum at the time. Cards were another favourite, and Jimmy could often be found in the Strand with his regular crew: Paddy “Big Daddy” Kearney, Willie Donovan, Eddie Don, Richie Fanning, and anyone who was foolish enough to sit in on a game with them.

Jimmy was part of the daily life and character of Dunmore all through my childhood, and the fact that his name is still spoken with such affection today says a great deal about the man. He was a good one.

Jimmy “The Raven” Cullinane was another one of Dunmore’s great characters and one of the GAA’s most loyal fans. His love of sport and his enthusiasm for every local club and team made him a familiar and much-loved figure throughout the parish. Jimmy had time for everyone—he was always the first to congratulate a team after a victory, and just as quickly there to lift their spirits after a defeat. His good humour and kind manner became part of what makes him so fondly remembered.

The Waterford Hurling team was his greatest passion, and he took immense pride when his two nephews, Sean and Eamon Cullinane, broke onto the county panel, it was a dream come true for him. Jimmy was not only a supporter of the Waterford team of the day, but also a storyteller who could bring the past alive with tales of players and matches gone by.

Away from the side-line, Jimmy was the life and soul of every gathering he attended. His trademark party pieces, which included his unique match commentaries, the famous cap-in-hand dance, and his renditions of The Bog Road and Cill Chais, gave endless joy to all who saw him perform them. In the 1960s, he also became well known for his lively performances of The Hucklebuck. Local women were often wary of dancing with him as they couldn’t keep up with his energetic steps. He’d wiggle like a snake and wobble like a duck, and all people could do was stand around in a ring and watch.

However, Jimmy was more than a GAA supporter, a dancer or an entertainer—he was a gentleman, a friend to many, and a true Dunmore character. He’s another one whose presence is sorely missed, but the memories will always remain with those who knew him.

Nellie Dunne with Catherine, Sean and Joe O'Toole.