I can give more stories if any are interested.

Go ahead, there's not enough story telling these days.

Boyhood Exploits of 1940s and 1950s.

Those were the days when going to the pictures was the highlife of any boy of that era. The cinema was the greatest of all treats in the forties, and our parents would take us to one about once a month. Cowboy pictures were all the go for us boys in those days. John Wayne, Gregory Peck, William Holden, Robert Mitchum, Ranlolph Scott, and of course Roy Rodgers starred in many gunfighter movies of the time and they were our heroes of the day.  Money for the pictures however, was very scarce. It cost four pence to gain entry to see a cowboy film, a lot then. But there was another way to get in to the ‘flicks.’ Some cinemas in Dublin, like the Grand, took two jam-jars as payment as jam-jars had a two pence recycling charge that could be retrieved anywhere. There was one kid living on Collins Avenue in 1947 however who did not seem to have any money problems. Ray was his name. One day I tried to impress Ray by telling him I saw the latest cowboy film Border Feud, starring Lash la Rue as the Cheyenne Kid and that it was a really great picture. ‘Saw it,’ said Ray. Ray then started telling us about the latest film he had seen and why we had to go to see it. Of course I kept asking Ray where he got the money to go to the pictures so often, but he declined to tell me, saying it was his secret. Then one day, he asked Joe and me would we go to the Fairview cinema with him. ‘We don’t have any money,’ I replied, ‘All right then, come with me and I will show you how we can get money for the flix,’ said Ray. It was about one o’clock in the day, Saturday, so we set off to see if we could make the three-o-clock matinee. We walked all the way down to Fairview, me wondering all the time what Roy had up his sleeve. Now there was, and still is, a wide footpath at the corner leading off St Aiden’s Park Road right opposite Fairview Park, and it was there Ray stopped us and told us to stay back at the shops. ‘Watch what I do and listen carefully,’ Ray said, and off he went over to a bus stop. We saw him looking up and down until we could hear him pretending to cry just as a few women were passing him. ‘Booo hooo, waaa waaa,’ he cried out loud, doing his best to force tears down his face. Within a minute or so a woman went over to him and we could hear the conversation. ‘What’s the matter with you son, why are you crying,’ she asked. ‘I lost my bus-fare home and I am feeling sick now so I cannot walk that far,’ answered Ray, his voice quivering to impress the woman. ‘O.K., sonny, stop crying, I will give you your bus fare home’ said the lady. With that we saw her dipping into her handbag, taking out her purse and give Ray some money. ‘O thank you,’ cried Ray, remaining at the bus-stop as the woman walked away waving bye bye to him. As soon as she was out of sight Ray came over to us and showed us a big shiny sixpence. ‘How about that eh, easy, now it is your turn,’ he said to my brother Joe. ‘Just do as I did, wait for women, and cry loudly.’ Joe reluctantly went to the bus-stop, waited for the right lady to come along, and went into a tirade of crying. Boy, how Joe played his part surprised me no end. He picked his woman well, for she immediately stopped and asked him what was wrong, why he was so upset. ‘I lost my bus fare home, I am feeling sick and I am not able to walk,’ Joe cried. Like the woman who fell for Ray’s act, she too took out her purse and gave him money, four pence. ‘Thank you so much, thank you, thank you,’ said Joe, ‘you are so kind.’ When the woman was out of sight, Joe came over to us delighted to show his cinema money in his hand. Finally it was my turn. No bother I said to myself, took up position at the bus stop and waited for a likely benefactor to walk by. Two elderly women came along and before they passed me I began my act, crying as though I broke a leg. I was out for the big money, film, sweets and crisps. From these two kind-looking dears I should get double at least I thought. The trap worked, ‘What is the matter sonny, why are you crying,’ asked one of the distressed ladies. ‘I lost my bus-fare home and it is too far to walk,’ I answered as instructed by Ray, forgetting the sick bit. ‘And where do you live,’ asked the other lady. It was then I had to think fast. They were not supposed to ask questions, I thought to myself, Ray and Joe were not asked where they lived were they? What if they were neighbours I didn’t know living just up the road within walking distance, and what if they knew my parents or even knew someone who lives near me I would be in serious trouble. No, I cannot even tell them where I lived in case they would escort me home. Besides Collins Ave is near enough to walk home from there so they might catch on this ploy is not what it is supposed to be. Now how I thought on all these things in about ten seconds I do not know, but maybe in such circuмstances, a five-year-old boy of the 1940s did that sort of quick thinking. In conclusion, I reasoned I must say I am going somewhere too far for them to walk with me, far enough to need a good bus-fare home. ‘Raheny,’ I finally answered them, knowing it was some miles away. ‘Oh my goodness,’ said one of the ladies, ‘that is a long journey. But don’t worry, we will get you there.’ ‘Eureka’ I thought, mission accomplished, how much will I ask for, how much will I get?  ‘First of all son, you are at the wrong bus-stop. Come with us to the Raheny bus-stop then,’ the lady said. ‘No,’ I thought to myself, ‘just give me the fare and I am gone.’ ‘Oh thank you,’ I answered, and off I went with the two kind women, one each side of me. I sneaked a look back at Ray and Joe and I could see the expression of wonder on their faces. ‘Maybe it is not all lost yet’ I thought to myself, ‘let us see what happens.’

    Well we got to the bus stop and I recall thinking up some yarn to tell the ladies as to why I was in Fairview in the first place, in case they asked. No need for that, for a bus came almost immediately. The conductor was standing on the platform as they used to. ‘Will you see to it this boy gets to Raheny, the stop where he gets off for his home,’ said one woman to the bus-conductor, handing the fare to the man in uniform with the bag of money. Ding, went his ticket machine and I was handed a receipt for my picture and sweets money. ‘Make sure he gets off at the right stop, won’t you,’ said my Good Samaritan to the conductor, telling him I had lost my fare home to Raheny. ‘You can rely on me,’ he said and hit the bell. I was on my way. I could see Joe and Ray looking at me with puzzled faces as I stared out the back window of the bus at them.  Again I had to put on my thinking cap. ‘I cannot get off up the road or the conductor will smell a rat. I will have to get to Raheny before I pretend the next stop is mine. What felt like ten miles further and an hour later, the conductor said ‘Raheny.’ I got off, and had to thank him. With my pockets empty I had no choice but to begin that long walk home, back to Fairview, then to Donnycarney. It took hours; When I got back. Joe and Ray were there waiting for me having been to the movies and returned home. They asked me what happened. I told them. Lesson learned, and my days of a con-boy were over.