Growing up in Castlebar in the 1950’s was an awful lot different than today. Life was much simpler then. As kids we had very little to worry about. Life was all about having fun, going to school and getting an education so that when we "grew up" we could go off to England, America or some other foreign destination to earn a living. If the train station at Castlebar or any of the many other stations in Ireland could speak, they would tell of heartbreaking situations when parents and siblings would bid their sons and daughters/brothers and sisters, goodbye, not knowing when, or if they would ever see each other again. This was the reality of growing up in a country where our greatest export was our youth.

I was part of a very large family (15 children in all) and I saw this situation first hand on a number of occasions. Travel, back then was not something that was undertaken for vacation but was generally a well thought out decision that was forced upon the people in order to find work and in many cases, to support their families back home in Ireland.

My parents, were hard working people and as, with any large families they made sacrifices every day for their children. Every day brought new challenges for them. One of us always needed new shoes, clothes, etc. and all of the other essential items required to survive through another day.

I myself, had a twin brother and a sister only one year older than me so we all started school at the same time. I believe it was in 1951 (I may be off by a year) but believe it or not I can remember sitting outside my home at #33 McHale Road waiting to be taken to the convent. Yes, my brother and I started school in the convent. We were the only two males in a school population of about 600 females. If only I had an interest in girls in those early days but to me, having had eight sisters, girls were the last thing I wanted to get involved with. Needless to say, my twin and I enjoyed our time at the convent and it was there that we were first introduced to the alphabet, math, religion and of course our native language, Gaelic.

By 1953, our interest in girls was becoming a little more obvious so the nuns kicked us out and we were chased off up to St. Patrick’s National school where we would be introduced to the Christian Brothers and of course, a totally male population. We settled in there without any problems and continued our education under the expert guidance of the brothers.

Our first big challenge came when we had to prepare for our first Holy Communion and as everyone knows back in the Ireland of the 50’s this was a very special day in the lives of children. Now, the problem, as far as our family was concerned was that there were three of us being prepared for the sacrament. My sister, who was a year older and of course, myself and my twin. Now, here was a major challenge for my parents. We would have to be outfitted with new suits, my sister would need a new Holy Communion dress and veil. Where would the money come from? Well this was the dilemma my parents faced. My mother, being a proud woman would never allow her children to be any less dressed than the other children receiving the sacrament. She often tailored suits for the boys and dresses for the girls but she was not up to the task of producing the necessary clothing for this very special occasion. She was beside herself with worry. Now, I had always heard my mother say that "you should never pray for money" and she held fast to this belief.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and my mother was no exception to this rule so she broke her own code of honour and got down on her knees and prayed to the Blessed Virgin, for help. She wanted her three children to go to the altar rails and receive their first communion dressed appropriately for the occasion.

Now, my father, a very hard worker, had worked at the County Home for years but his rewards for his efforts were like many other workers in Ireland at the time, minimal. Like most men though he would still manage a little "flutter" on the horses on special occasions like the Grand National or the Derby but my dad’s skill at picking winning horses was not a talent he excelled at. He also did the Sunday crossword in one of the national newspapers (I believe it was the Irish Press). This was a challenging crossword offering a first prize of SIX HUNDRED POUNDS……a fortune in those days. Now, as with the horses my dad had been doing this crossword for years, without ever coming close to winning.

One Sunday morning in 1953 I remember walking down to the church for the nine-o-clock morning Mass and being congratulated by many people who knew me. I was seven years old and I didn’t have a clue as to what these people were talking about, nor did I really care. When I arrived home from mass that day, the activity at our house was "something else". What was going on, I thought? What was all the fuss about?

The answer soon came…..my Dad had won on the crossword…..not the whole thing but he was a co-winner with a woman in Dublin. My Dad had won THREE HUNDRED POUNDS on the crossword. WOW, we were rich. My mother’s prayers had been answered. The Blessed Virgin had come through for us and granted my mother’s wish.

Needless to say the excitement at our house that day was something I will never forget. We had won a small fortune, and what were we going to do with it? Well, the first thing we were going to do was to buy some new suits for my twin and I and a first Holy Communion dress and veil for my sister. I still remember to this day, the day my mother came to the school and took us out early to go downtown Castlebar to the clothing store. My twin and I were fitted with new suits, white shirts, new socks (without holes), red ties and, underpants!!!! Now, why in God’s name does anyone have to wear underpants? We asked my mother this question in the shop, only to be shushed in no uncertain terms.

We were now outfitted with the most beautiful new suits that money could buy. My sister had her beautiful long white Holy Communion dress complete with veil. We could now walk up the aisle at the Church of the Holy Rosary as proud as anyone. When our first Holy Communion day finally arrived the excitement we felt was beyond measure. This day will forever take a special place in my heart as I now realize the sense of agony my parents had gone through until the Blessed Virgin came through for us. Was this a miracle? Nobody will convince me otherwise.

Now, as with all "lottery winners" the national newspaper wanted to get publicity for their paper so they sent a photographer to our home to take a family portrait of this "fortunate family" at #33 McHale Road, who had won this small fortune. My parents gathered us all up (I believe there was only eleven of us available for the picture) and we were assembled in our backyard for the photo op.

The Winning Halligan Family - the photo that appeared in the national papers in 1953.

The picture was printed in the newspaper some weeks later and I have to say that we looked like a sorry but very happy bunch. Now, I did not expect what happened next. If you had seen this picture (we do have a copy of it available) then you would be apt to send us some more money but instead we got the greatest collection of begging letters from all over the country and from even as far away as England. People were begging us for money. It goes to show you that Ireland was going through some desperate times in those days.

Well, with the remainder of our vast fortune our family opened a shop on McHale Road in competition with "Peter O’Malleys" or "Peters" as it was commonly known. This venture lasted about three years when we finally decided to close up shop. I can truthfully say, though, that winning that small fortune did not change our family in any way. I can, however say that to this day, I honestly do believe in the "Power of Prayer".

 Bernard J Halligan

If you enjoyed this article you will also enjoy 'Family Ties on McHale Road"  by Bernard Halligan.