Mayo Alive
December 1999
Many tales, grave and gay, true and false, are still remembered in relation to the coming of the first motor cars to the west of Ireland, around the opening years of this century. Many Mayo people believe that the first private car to come to Mayo was purchased by Sir Henry Lynch- Blosse of Athavallie House, Balla. This house was later taken over by the Sisters of Mercy and is now a Secondary School.
He purchased his car in Dublin and had it sent to Balla railway station, well wrapped and packed in canvas wrappings. It was taken from there to his nearby mansion by railway 'float.' A few days later, as arranged, a driver for the car arrived by rail from Dublin. He was well equipped with drivers' caps with high pointed ear flaps that could be folded down over the ears in stormy or frosty weather, and dust goggles. The cars in those early motoring days had no fixed roofs. A folding canvas roof with celluloid squares to act as windows did duty until the weather cars came along some years later.
Next day after the arrival of the chauffeur, Sir Henry decided to give the car its maiden run, to Claremorris if all went well. The driver, accompanied by Sir Henry, took the car onto the main Castlebar- Balla road and then turned east towards Balla. Rounding the bend near the Glebe, or parson's house, they saw a well-known knight of the road forty or fifty yards ahead and travelling in the same direction. He was nown locally as Sean Bacach. Hearing the loud rumbling noise at the rear, Sean looked around and came to a standstill in the centre of the road. He almost dropped with fright. The car slowed up but two or three blasts from the horn, or hooter, caused Sean to rub ahead at top speed.
Even though he always boasted of being "as light in foot as a Tyrone ragman," he found that the monster was gaining on him. His first impression was that he was seeing the headless coach of prophecy and legend, complete with the Evil One who was abducting Sir Henry to probably warmer regions. As Sean had heard man fireside tales on such themes he felt that legend was being translated into reality before his eyes. In his fleeting backward glance the high pointed cap of the driver registered as the devil's horns and the goggles confirmed his worst conclusions.
Coming to a small bridge or 'gullet' beside the modern 'Woodlands' housing estate he flung himself over the parapet wall and crept well under the eye of the bridge. He found that the stream was completely dried up, as always in prolonged dry weather.
When the fugitive plucked up courage to peep out from under the bridge he was horrified to see the headless coach and its' occupants at a standstill at the crossroad one hundred yards ahead. A well-known blacksmith's forge, Keville's, stood at this crossroads. This gave Sean a faint glimmer of hope. Blacksmiths in those days were credited with occult powers above the ordinary, especially where evil spirits were involved.
Sean thought that the blacksmith might have invoked some charm to halt the devil in his tracks. He said a silent prayer that the blacksmith would be able to turn the anvil on the devil and banish him off with a few well-chosen potent curses.
However, to Sean's disappointment, the headless coach and its occupants turned slowly towards Balla.
Sean then jumped into the wood and, dodging between the trees, he got to the Parochial House, where he told the parish priest his story. On his way through the wood he judged, by the trail of fire and smoke at the devil's rear, that he had gone out the Claremorris road between the two fairgreens. The 'smoke' that Sean saw was probably dust. The use of tar in later years to keep down dust was one of the great innovations of those days.
Sean burst into his story to the parish priest i a half-hysterical manner.
He described the devil and the coach, he with his big eyes, "twice as big as cow's eyes" and his horns short and sharp. He described the terrifying roars of the devil. The rubber ball type horn or hooter of those days emitted an ear shattering roar when squeezed.
Sean could be excused for coupling those bloodcurdling roars with his Satanic majesty.
The PP had a good idea as to what Sean had really seen as he had advance news of the intended purchase of the car from Sir Harry. To allay Sean's fears, the PP said that if Sir Harry did not return in a few hours he would see what could be done about it.
"A few hours!2 exclaimed Sean aghast. "At the rate they
went out the Rathduff road they will be in Hell in half the
time. If you can do no good by prayers or curses you could
send a tallywagger (telegram) to the peelers in Claremorris
or Dublin to stop him.
"Well," replied the PP. "if you agree to leave everything in
my hands I will promise that everything will turn out
alright."
So Sean agreed to call off his demon hunt.
A West of Ireland bishop of those days also purchased a new motor car. The name of his particular purchase being the "Moon." A brother of the bishop was one of the local town "gods," a bunch of cynics who used to meet daily at a certain street corner and engaged in criticism, both constructive and destructive, of the changing times and of innovations and events in general.
On one occasion when the bishop's brother saw the "Moon" approaching he said to his companions- "You were talking a few minutes ago about the changing times and there is one of the biggest changes of all before our eyes. We read in the Bible about Our Lord riding on His ass and now here comes our "Tomeen" riding on the moon!
I heard a story in Achill relating to those early motoring days. While the story in general may be true there are parts that can be taken with the proverbial grain of salt.
A young Achill man emigrated to Cleveland, USA. During the closing years of the last century. After a few successful years in the saloon business he decided to come back to visit the old home and also to take one of his nephews back to Cleveland with him. He decided to surprise his relatives by taking a car with him from Dublin. Owing to the poor roads and slow travelling speeds of those days that meant staying a night in Athlone. His relations in the home place had a few busy days giving a face-lift to the buildings and surroundings. The empty farmyard manure pit was regarded as an eyesore and a covering of fresh hay was spread over it for camouflage. When the Yank arrived he drove up on the hay and promptly got stuck there. A neighbour, known as Pat Vicky, had a mule so strong that, in Pat's words, "he did not know his own strength."
The mule was got into action and pulled the car onto
terrafirma. When the car owner told Pat some days later that
the car was ten horsepower Pat replied that his mule must be
eleven or twelve horsepower when he was able to do what ten
horses failed to do. On the day after his arrival thwe Yank
proposed a trip around the island and out to Mulranny by
car. The only one to venture with him was the nephew he
hoped to take to America.
A tree growing in front of the house was a partial
obstruction so they had to drive by slowly in order to get
onto the main road. When they got to the main road they kept
to a steady 20mph owing to the poor condition of the sand
roads of those days. When they left the island they went
through Currane to Mulranny and returned through Tonragee.
When they got back home the Yank did not allow for the
slippery, greasy state of the bye-road and jammed on the
brakes too sharply with the result that the car skidded into
the tree in front of the house. As the roof was folded back
one driver and nephew were pitched out on their hands and
knees without injury.
"Well," exclaimed the nephew, "you did well to stop it that time, Uncle, but what would you do if there was no tree?"
Towns and villages in County Mayo, Ireland
