a cara.....the long hot days of summer have come to an end....and fall has dropped its mantle on the ontario landscape.....so yesterday lazing around i spent the early morning watching the news....breaking stories suggested europe was on alert.....travellers from north america were warned of possible problems....europe defeated usa in ryder cup....a tractor trailer hauling pigs to a west toronto slaughter house lost control and flipped over dumping its cargo of pigs on the road......pigs were everywhere......some had to be destroyed on the spot.....the others rounded up by police ....fire department officers and others.......and as i watched the scurrying my mind drifted back to the the good old days of the castlebar bacon factory.......i thought of the big pig pen at the factory end of mchale road where pigs were housed under the supervision of tom moylette.....this pen was a long shed and housed a lot of piggys.....we lads of the road would often go up to the shed in the evening to see the swine......screeching and squealing......on the road it was afamiliar site to see jack denning and tommy conway haul their lorry load of pigs to the pen.....here they spent their last night ...in the condemned pen....awaiting their final march across the road through the factory gates to the holding pen outside the execution chamber.......the slaughter usually took place in the afternoon......so after lunch a few of the factory boys would herd the pigs across the road ....once inside the doomed holding pen ......unaware of their fate.....pat mcgreal stood on the dais .....dagger ....sharp and ready....in his white oilskin apron.....the helpers strted the shuffling of the pigs as they were headed into the "kill" area.......here a chain was secured around the leg ....and with a tug the chain slotted into an escalating drive chain .....the pigs wriggled and screeched as they were hoisted to their fate......as they were completely suspended upside down they stopped their cries.......at the top of the levelling area .....pat swung them around and then with one plunge of his blade there was one more squeal and a gush of blood ....after their stabbing pat gave them a push and they slid down to a caldren of boiling water.....they were immersed in this hot bath.....where mechanically they were again hoisted .....once again they were aloft as they moved towards bill corcoran ....bill operated this horrific looking inferno.....a cylinder type "hell fire"......almost comparable to miltons description of hell.......a dungeon horrible on all sides round as one great furnace flamed .... yet from these flames no light visible.....the pigs entered this furnace and the mighty doors closed all around them.....as the doors were opened by bill the pigs were pulled out singed and scorched.....here their haiys hides were scraped ...and then moved along the belt to master butcher paddy mcginty.....here they were deboweled......we youngsters waited for paddy to throw us a bladder.......next dept. vet paddy omalley gave them a stamp of acceptance ....as they moved down to where they were split in two......as they moved towards the curing and brine.....for us lads we were regular spectators of this operation....a day up at the factory was part and parcel of our growing up......paul holmes stoked the mighty boiler house....here he fed coal in to the mighty fires that fed steam and power to the plant.....outside his chambers there was always two stacks....a stack of coal ...and a stack of cinders.....many a bogey load of cinders i brought home from there to spread on the back road outside our shed......many of us young lads were scared a little of dan carroll but he was ok.......zwanie was the main man...and he was friendly enough......as i reflect ...on the bustling activity of the factory in those glory days of castlebar bacon company .....i remember how we visited other areas ...like the sausage house ......where finely minced pork was blended with secret herbs and spices to make link sausage....white pudding.......and luncheon meat encased in its red casing.......in the factory shop josie mcdonnell and jack lyons manned the fort.....how we would often wish as we saw the scraps of ham or luncheon meat that thay might treat us to piece.....all thats gone now and the sight of white coated workers walking home down mchale road is but a phantom vision....frank griffin cycling down ...tom moran and paddy merrick driving thier floats are but for us that were around in those days,,,,,are moments of once upon a good time......the herds of cattle being driven by martin dolan and crew down mchale road still tickle my memory .....as does the adventures of curl wee ...or captain mac....yes in the words of mr. watson......our chimney sweep.....a pint a packet a' woodbine and a box of mathches that kills the bob mikesey.....happy memories......
.....la eile an sceil.....how barcastle came about......
anois......
..............tog go bog e.....