Pat Smyth, a civil servant with the National Assistance Board in West Tyrone from the 1930's to the 1950's, recalls his memories, experiences and the larger than life personalities he encountered on the way.
   
On a visit to Omagh as a departmental auditor, in 1941, I stayed at the Melville Hotel and I have fond memories of Cassie Gallagher, the motherly receptionist-cum-waitress-cum public relations person. She was so friendly, self-effacing and quiet that few guests ever suspected that she was a part owner of the establishment.

Cassie saw to it that one's every wish was a command. Each of the regulars, that is to say the commercial travellers, had his own personal niche in the lounge and drawing room and was treated like family by the owners, Mrs. Broderick and Cassie.
   
Once when I was there I chose a back room for quiet, nor realising that it adjoined a servants' staircase leading to the yard. The maids and a lad called Michael, (the boot boy) congregated there late at night to fill coalscuttles, chop wood, clean brasses, etc.

Michael had a ball, chasing some of the lassies up and down the staircases around midnight. He was named by his quarry often and he wore hob-nailed boots, so I had him identified.

Next morning I cornered Michael, said my piece, and asked him whether he would prefer me to break his neck, or have a word with Mrs. Broderick. He took my point, apologised, grinned and made off. For the remainder of my stay the users of the back staircases were quiet as mice.
   
Fortunately, I never had occasion to use the Melville garage. Cars were packed there like the proverbial sardines in a tin, and few except Bonzo Donnellan could have extracted one from the huddle without a crane.

Bonzo could have pushed, shoved, and edged a car out of any tight corner without losing a chip of paint - but a lamp standard at the railway crossing bridge on the Dublin Road had got him one night and he had lost a leg in the accident.
   
The Dolphin Bar at John Street, Omagh, which was owned by the O'Neill family, had upstairs rooms which Gerry's sister, Cissie Tierney, used for boarders. Gerry and his sister, Angela, lived there but Cissie and her retired husband, Eddie, lived on the Dromore Road.
   
Cissie kept five boarders and although it was not a four-star hotel, it was very highly rated and not easy to get into. No one ever moved out to other digs, and the permanent residents vetted new entrants when there was a vacancy.

My predecessor, James Beattie, had boarded there until he got married, and Angela O'Neill was a clerk in my office, so I had no difficulty getting into the Dolphin, when I audited Omagh Office, four times in 1941 and 1942, if any of the permanent residents were on vacation. At other times I went to Waterson's Royal Arms hotel or the Melville.
   
When I was appointed Area Manager in 1943, the Dolphin was full and I had to go to Miss McIvor's boarding house at Campsie, where Fred Moore, co-founder of Wellworths and David Crawford, Manager of a local hardware shop were my companions, together with Norman Hutchinson of Big Bridge Moneymore, one of my senior clerks. A Department of Agriculture Tillage Officer, Bob Ferguson, was there was well. He was a County Fermanagh man.
   
Every time I see the play entitled 'Gaslight' it reminds me of Miss McIvor's boarding house. Located near Campsie Bridge, at the entrance to the market yard, it was a fine, modern three-storied building providing superior facilities for residents.

Miss McIvor ran it single-handedly, except for the help of a general maid called Maggie. I stayed there for a fair while but I never heard what Maggie's surname was. There was just one big drawback. The kitchen was on the ground floor, the house was lit by gas and the main gas tap was in the kitchen.
   
As a safety measure, Miss McIvor wisely turned off the gas at the main when she retired at night and used a battery lamp to make her way to bed, around 11.30 pm. If we hadn't gone to bed by then, we too had to use flash lamps, which she provided.

One night two 'night owls' who shared a large bedroom, were reading in bed when the gaslight went off. They turned over and went to sleep omitting to turn off the gas. Next morning, very fortunately, one of the guests was awake when Miss McIvor turned on the gas. The hiss soon had him out of bed to turn off the tap and tragedy was narrowly averted. I had been dithering about moving digs and that episode was a spur.
   
One night during the wartime blackout I arrived to find Miss McIvor having words at the door with an air-raid warden and a pair of 'B' Specials over a light which was visible in a top window. She rightly told them it was not her responsibility and she asked me would I lead the men upstairs, which I did.

The room with the light was occupied by Fred Moor and Davy Crawford and I ushered the officers in. They were all set to give a lecture about the breach of the Black-out Regulations but as soon as they saw the occupants of the room they were quite strangely quiet.

I don't remember the exact circumstances but, seemingly, either the visitors or some of their families were employed by the blackout offenders! Fred drew the blind, and they crept down the stairs with their tails between their legs.
   
One evening Miss McIvor served potted herrings for tea - two sizeable portions apiece. Tillage Officer Bob Ferguson was late. Norman Hutchinson and I did not fancy potted herring, so we heaped our four portions on Bob's plate, knowing he would be ravenous after a day in the field.

He arrived as we finished and Maggie promptly served a fresh pot of tea and more bread. Bob wired into the herrings, his knife and fork going like clappers. As he munched through the third portion of herring he quipped out of the side of his mouth. 'Cripes boys, she's doing us well today'.
   
One morning a neat notice appeared in the bathroom. 'Gentleman should fold their pyjamas in the mornings'. It was quickly turned over and endorsed 'Away and crease your pants!' Through Maggie, Miss McIvor made persistent efforts to identify the scribbler, but in vain. He was, of course, Fred Moore, a born mischief-maker.

When I decided to move out I sent Miss McIvor a polite note, via Maggie, and I got one back inviting me to go and see her. On my way out for an evening stroll I explained that I had found more homely digs and left it at that. She wasn't pleased as, in the Omagh digs pool, I was relatively big fish.
   
On discovering that I did not feel at home at McIvor's, Cissie Tierney had got Mary and Jim McGaughey, to take me. They lived near the General Hospital at Lisnamallard and provided a home from home - so much so that a cordial relationship was established which lasted for decades, until both passed away.

Jim and Mary were a most kindly couple, from Clanbogan or Dromore way. Later, they even let my wife and I share the plot attached to their bungalow as a garden when we had no outlet at our home on High Street.
   
I hadn't been long in McGaughey's until a deputation from the Dolphin Bar came to me. A bank clerk from Belfast, called Gerry Harbison, had been moved to Athenry, and Paddy Donnelly, who eventually became a Director of the Northern Bank, needed a roommate.

I found a social worker called Shepherd keen to take my place in McGaughey's and the McGaugheys happy to take him, so I moved in with Paddy. He was a son of a Newry solicitor, and took life very seriously, whether it was banking, tennis, golf, playing cards or playing the piano. Deservedly, he eventually got to the top of his profession as a banker. He died around 1992 at Newcastle, County Down.
   
Eddie Fearon, a Rostrevor man, Violet Cusack from Tramore, Frank McLaughlin from Cork and Pat Higgins from the west of Ireland were already in residence at the Dolphin and they had earlier been together at O'Shaughnessy's off the Rope Walk.

Fearon and Mcaughlin were on the staff of the Christian Brothers Secondary School, where they had had Benedict Kiely as a pupil. Violet was teaching at the Loretto Convent School. She later married Jim Mullan, the high street grocer.

Father Kevin Mullan, who 'crossed the road too wide' to fraternise one Christmas with Rev. David Armstrong at Limavady, is a son of Jim and Violet. Happily, both Kevin's parents lived to a ripe old age in retirement.

Leo Mulhern, Paddy Bogues, Tommy Kernan, Tony Shannon and Leo Sullivan, were frequent visitors at the Dolphin. Sullivan and Shannon were both on the staff at the Christian Brothers School. Leo was a banker. Bogues and Kernan were colleagues of mine.

Pat Smyth, 2001