“I rushed home to tell our ones the good news, but it wasn’t well-received. The bitch had been entered for a competition the next Sunday, and it was hoped to pull a stroke, but I had ruined the scheme! All hands had been hoping to make a few quid, but the market had taken over the track management, so when the bitch won the race, I was in the proverbial doghouse. The Sunday Observance `do-gooders’ later had the tracks closed down.”

Tom McKeown highlighted the Newry Agricultural Show as a popular event in those days, recalling how he and his pals would “hurry home from school, grab some tin-cans and head for the Rampart Bank, since we did not have enough money to go through the main entrance.

“Mission accomplished, it was back home, presenting the ill-gotten goods to our mothers. Then back to the show, where we would watch Iris Kellett, Barbara Falloon and Willie Cully compete in the show-jumping.”

The popular ex-printer, who played for Clann Uladh, referred to the kind of holidays,` organised by the Bosco Club in Kilmorey Street, or the Mitchel Memorial Committee at William Street. The Bosco boys would enjoy a week at Cranfield, while the parents would arrange a bus-trip to see how their sons were enjoying the `sea, sand and Mediterranean tan.’

“Newry General Holiday was a special occasion, as the town closed down, with practically everyone heading off on various trips. Our family always looked forward to the Mitchel Memorial train outing to Dublin. We embarked at Dublin Bridge Station, in order to ensure a good seat and nice compartment, well away form the belching engine. The station at Edward Street would be packed with day-trippers; Joe McCrudden blew his whistle, waved the green flag and off we went.

“As the train passed over the Boyne Bridge, some would toss coins into the water in order to counter-act the curse. On arrival in the capital, it was off to Woolworths in Abbey Street, heading for the self-service restaurant. At O’Connell Street, we purchased hurley sticks, balls or skipping ropes, while the older folk slipped into Mooney’s pub for a `wee sup.` Then back home to the frontier town.”

One special person, who entered Tom’s life when he was about seven-year-old, was his mother’s uncle, Willie Burns, who resided with his sister, Lily at 82, Chapel Street. She worked at Dromalane Mill, often called at the McKeown homestead, and was `odd in her ways`. One day she asked young Tom to whitewash her yard, and he agreed.

“On going to the house, I was confronted by her brother, who struck me as a rather stern and gruff individual. I was to find out later that, behind the rough exterior lay a heart of gold. He was the bandmaster and founder member of St Catherine’s Brass and Reed Band, and introduced me to the clarinet. But I hadn’t a musical note in my body.

“For five or six years, I arrived at the house with my clarinet case every day after school, and tried his patience sorely. The music session would last about 15 minutes, and on the pretext of sending me a message, the clarinet was tucked away. He seldom left the house, and then always on his bike.

“Even at my tender age, he would send me to McNamee’s shop in Monaghan Street to buy him a suit, shirts and so on, for which I was rewarded with a half-crown or florin. He never called me by my Christian name, and it was only when I entered the hospital ward, when the breath was leaving him, that he reached out and said: `Tom.` I will forever remember my great uncle William Burns!”

Tom McKeown explained how the family moved home from Custom House Avenue to a new house at Dromalane. “Local politics had changed after the war, as Labour, the ICA and Independents vied for local council seats. They made a difference, with new houses being built at the Meadow, the Armagh Road and Dromalane, where we got our first new house. Not only was there a bathroom, three bedrooms and a sitting-room, but also a garden, front and back.

“The new abode took some getting used to. Our mongrel bitch, Darkie, would head for `Tan Open` - Custom House Avenue, - and sit outside No 5, having to be collected every evening. My transit from the Chapel Street area took a very long while, - and I never would lose touch with my childhood pals. After work and at weekends, I could always be located in the South Ward, meeting up with the gang, going dancing or whatever.

“Even after years of matrimony, I still have an affinity for the area. Kathleen and Chrissie Smith (RIP); my uncle Tommy McKeown and his late wife. Phil (Jennings); my aunts Maureen, wife of Patrick Jennings, and Kathleen, spouse of John McAleavey and their respective families, were living in my beloved district. My wife and our family took up abode on Chapel Road, - not a hound’s growl from my old stamping ground, - hoping to live out our days, happy and content.”

No doubt, Tom McKeown and his family are looking forward, like many others, to the forthcoming Chapel Street Area Re-union. And the craic should be mighty, as past and present residents, renew old friendships, recalling the great neighbourly spirit, which helped to surmount the many hardships and adversities which assailed that united and resilient community.

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