The Village People. (Page 03) 

This is a very young-looking Geoff “Bulligan” Power, taken years before he ever got into fishing or politics — both jobs tend to age people rapidly. Geoff was a fisherman for many years in his youth. At one time, he was a member of the lifeboat crew and received an RNLI citation for bravery.

In later years, he became foreman of the South and East Coast Fishermen’s Co-Op, where he showed a remarkable ability to pick out the best men in the village to work for him. I had the pleasure of working with Geoff for eight long, freezing winters. The quay in Dunmore can be one of the coldest places on earth at times; luckily, Bill’s wasn’t too far away.

Geoff was also elected as a county councillor on a number of occasions, a position to which he devoted a great deal of his spare time. He got a lot of things done in the village during his terms of office. It was Geoff who secured footpaths and lighting on the Killea Road — I think he knew I struggled to find my way home after dark and wanted to protect his workforce.

When Geoff passed away, the village lost one of its best men. May he rest in peace.

This is a photograph of Tom Doyle — a man for whom shipwrecks were an unfortunate acquaintance. Tom was never far from a well-earned pint of Guinness (always in moderation) and could spin a yarn from dawn to dusk for anyone willing to listen. If there are pubs in the hereafter, you can be sure Tom is holding court in one of them, entertaining the angels with his stories.

This is local fisherman Paddy ‘Napper’ Kelly with his wife Annie, out for a sail in the boat, most likely on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Life on the water came naturally to Paddy, and days like this—calm, unhurried, and close to home—were among his happiest. Annie, by his side, shared in those moments, enjoying the simple pleasure of being out in the fresh sea air. It was the kind of afternoon that might finish with a glass or two in Whites or Dowers, where the fishing stories flowed as freely as the pints. Paddy was well known for his easy charm and cheerful outlook, and many would say he lived a life as charmed as the waters he fished.

This photo, loaned to me by Peter Power, shows Con Barlow with Ann and Paddy Lee enjoying a lunchtime drink in The Butchers, probably sometime in the mid-1990s — back when you didn’t have to rob a bank to afford a middle-of-the-day tipple.

A picture of Noreen Bowe with Mandy Manahan, the dog from Manahan's Shop, photographed in 1978.

This is Noreen again, this one I'd say dates from the late 90s.

This is a picture of Michael “Mickey” Whitty, dressed for a formal occasion and looking every bit the part. Mickey was originally a Passage East man, and before settling in Dunmore East in the 1980s, he had spent time living in England.

He was a skilled painter and decorator, and over the years he put colour on many houses around the village. There are men whose work is seen and admired long after they have gone home for the evening, and Mickey was one of those. A freshly painted house, a clean line around a window, a door brought back to life — that was his trade, and he was good at it.

At the time, I had a bit of a flair with a paint brush myself, or at least I liked to think I had. Mickey gave me plenty of tips, and some of them have stayed with me to this day. Even now, whenever I’m painting, I still find myself using small bits of advice that came from him. That is often the way with practical people: they pass on what they know without making a big performance of it, and years later you realise how useful it was.

Mickey became part of Dunmore East life and made it his home. Like many who came to the village from elsewhere, he added something of himself to the place. He was another good man who found himself in Dunmore East and left his own mark on it.

The background of this photo has been slightly altered, as I felt this setting suited Mickey’s style more than the original. He is respectfully remembered for his good humour, and for the bit of colour in his character, which is only right for a painter.

A photo of one of the great Dunmore postmen, and all-round handyman, Paddy ‘Duffin’ Fitzgerald. There wouldn’t have been many things that Paddy couldn’t turn his hand to.

Gerry O’Regan’s hurling career began with all the promise of a boy destined for greatness.

From a very early age, Gerry showed the kind of natural ability that made people stop, stare, and quietly wonder whether they were witnessing the beginning of something special. His first great sporting triumph came in 1963, when he was awarded the prestigious title of Senior Infant Hurler of the Year in the famed Mothers of Mercy League, a fiercely contested competition run under the watchful eyes of the local nuns.

For a young Gerry, the future seemed bright. The hurl sat comfortably in his hand. The sliotar obeyed him. Destiny, it appeared, was calling.

But every great sporting story has its villain. In Gerry’s case, that figure was Mother Regina.

According to local legend, Mother Regina took a particular dislike to the young prodigy. Some say she was jealous of his gifts. Others suggest she had once harboured ambitions of becoming a hurler herself before choosing the religious life. Whatever the reason, Gerry’s talent appears to have stirred something deep within her.

The turning point came on a fateful day at the convent. Having somehow escaped from an upstairs toilet in which Mother Regina had locked him, Gerry returned to discover an even greater injustice: his beloved hurl and sliotar had been confiscated.

They were hidden, so the story goes, in the nuns’ ball room, never to be seen again. And with that, Gerry O’Regan’s hurling career came to a premature and tragic end.

Waterford, too, was left to wonder what might have been. Had Gerry’s hurl and sliotar not disappeared behind convent walls, could the Déise have swept all before them in the 1970s? Could All-Ireland glory have arrived decades earlier? Could Croke Park have echoed to the name of O’Regan?

We will never know.

All that remains is the legend: a young hurler of rare promise, a jealous nun, a locked toilet, a hidden hurl, and one of the great unanswered questions in Waterford sporting history. 

This photo features Tommy “Twink” Ivory, with local girl, Avril Horgan. The photo was taken at the entrance of the Shamrock Factory in Coxtown, probably in the early 1970s. 

The girls didn’t have matching hats, but were in fact sharing Dick Ballantyne’s head gear as a photo prop. Dick Ballantyne was the boss man at the factory. I’m not sure if Twink worked there, I seem to remember him working for John Molloy when he had the Ship. 

This is Twink Ivory's son Michael, I'm not sure where the photo was taken, maybe at the Tramore Races.

This is Twink Ivory's daughter Betty, who now lives in England. Her married name is Beth Campbell.

This photograph shows the wedding day of Michael and Peg Power, who were married on the 10th of October, 1958.

A photo taken at the wedding reception of Diana and Paddy O’Regan, in the Ocean Hotel. 

The position of the men named in the photo might be hard to follow, but I’m assured that all those named are present. This picture belongs to Michael Quilty, who kindly sent it to me. It was taken on the 4th of November, 1940, during the threshing at Flynn’s of Fornaught.

Back Rows, Left To Right: Joe O’Toole, Johnny Beamish, No. 3 & 4 Unknown, Paddy Boland, Jimmy Brien, Paddy Regan, Jimmy Delahunty, Robert Power, Martin Burke and Mickey Dalton.

Front Row: Maurice ’Mock’ Morrissey, No 2 Unknown, Richie ‘Vesty’ Power, Stephen Mulally, Richie Power, Joe Power, Ca Regan, Dick Quilty, Micky Flynn. 

Here we see a group heading for a wedding, in the picture are: Katie Power, Paddy Griffin, Bertie MacNamara, Peter Power, John Roche and Tom Mulalley. The child is unknown, but is probably Paddy Griffin’s son or daughter. I would say that a great day was had by all. 

Ca Regan and Dave Forsey attempt to attract customers into the 'Olde Dunmore Inn' back in 1990.

This picture features Margaret Sheehan and Nellie Dunne sitting outside the Strand with two unidentified children. I’d say it dates from the 1960s, or possibly the 1950s. 

A picture of John Roche that was originally uploaded by William Power. John is seen here heading towards the lookout wall to cast an eye on the horizon. You never knew from one day to the next what might be coming ashore in those days.