Then & Now: The real lifeline of a Limerick village

THE ARRIVAL of a telephone kiosk in Carrigkerry village in 1971, filled a big void in the locality. It was a godsend to us all but especially for people who had relations abroad. It allowed quick contact with loved ones who were in England or further away.
Correspondence to secure a telephone kiosk for Carrigkerry was ongoing for three years, and Limerick County Council earlier turned down the application because the population was not sufficient to justify its presence. Following representations by the late TD Dennis Jones, the kiosk was granted and installed.

At that time the traditional letter that was sent on a weekly basis, was the only contact across the divide until its arrival. On its installation the local news, joyful tidings of births, engagements, and marriages, and sad conversations about sickness and deaths could be discussed in real time.

House phones were still very scarce, around the locality at the time, with only a handful of people able to afford them. The telephone kiosk served a very important function in the early days, as it provided people with a line to the outside world. It was in great demand and people had to wait their turn to use it. Some people became famous for the amount of time they spent inside the box, and many was the prayer that was recited in their direction by other users.

Most of the local calls were to the priest, the guards, the doctor, the vet or the AI man.

Money was scarce and some coins used were not even legal! Washers of a certain diameter and pushouts from galvanised junction-boxes used by electricians were often pressed into action.

When decimal currency was introduced in 1971 it took a while to have the phones adapted. The new decimal 1p coin was exactly the same size as the old sixpence and worked very well. Another favourite trick was to block the return-chute with a piece of rolled up cloth or twine and to return for the proceeds when a number of people had pressed Button B without getting any refund. Necessity was the mother of all inventions, when a call had to be made.

In the days when one went through the operator there was the story of the cash struck man who phoned his friend looking for the loan of a tenner only to be told, “It’s a bad auld line, I can’t hear you.” When the request was repeated it was, once again, met with, “I can’t hear you”. At this stage the operator cut in with, “I can hear him perfectly”. The answer was ready, “You give him the loan of the tenner, then.”

The phone kiosk was used by courting couples who did not own a car, for a squeeze and a quick kiss, in those innocent days. Doing the rounds at the time was the Dublin joke, “What do northside girls use for protection? A phone-box”.

A person often the worse for wear, snatched a few hours sleep there before making their way home. When a person that was not that well liked would be retiring it would be said, they’re holding their retirement party in a phone-box.I recall a few lines from the late Jim Reeves song He will have to go that was receiving air play at the time.

Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone
And let’s pretend that we’re together all alone
I’ll tell the man to turn the jukebox way down low
And you can tell your friend there with you he’ll have to go.

The first Irish telephone box was installed on Dawson Street, Dublin in 1925. It helped create one of the first links to the outside world. A 1925 Irish Times newspaper report stated that the telephone boxes were designed so as to present a pleasing appearance and be in harmony with the surrounding buildings.

The 31st International Eucharist Congress was held in Dublin, in June 1932. At the time it was hugely significant in terms of asserting the identity of the Irish Free State as a leading catholic nation.

The city went under a dramatic makeover, which included the roll out of a number of telephone boxes. The popularity of the Irish telephone box led to their installation throughout the island. They brought news of births and deaths and played a central role in the lives of those both lovesick and homesick. Speaking to a son or daughter who had immigrated to America would have been a rare treat for the families they left behind.

The increase of mobile phones was blamed for the decline and potential demise of the phone box, a 20th-century symbol of communication that had attained such cultural resonance that it had made its way into a Blondie song, a Hitchcock film and a Harry Potter book, and provided the main stage for Colin Farrell in Phone Booth.

It began to make a big impact around the start of the millennium, and the need for the telephone kiosk lessened as many people changed to instant communication in their hip pockets, and handbags.

The telephone kiosk in Carrigkerry stood for a few years as a reminder of times past with the door open and the phone hanging by its cord. The light inside was extinguished and the national call came for their withdrawal in 2007. Very low levels of customer usage were given as the reason.

Eircom implemented a public consultation process prior to the removal of any of their payphones. Removal notification notices were placed on all targeted boxes for a period of six weeks, which allowed residents, and local authorities to submit their views in writing to Eircom.

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The cull of Eircom phone boxes saw 24 being removed in Limerick, with all but one located in rural areas. The areas affected were Ardpatrick, Ashford, Athlacca, Baggotstown, Ballyhahill, Ballyneety, Caherelly, Carrigkerry, Creeves Cross, Croagh, Feenagh, Feohanagh, Glenroe, Grange, Headley’s Bridge, Herbertstown, Kilcolman Knockaderry, Manister, Martinstown, Nicker, Ratheenagh, and Rathkeale.

Phone boxes have played in our collective consciousness as social hubs and lifelines to other worlds since they first graced our pavements in the early 1920s as standalone concrete structures with solid walls and wooden doors.

Their look evolved as they sprouted on footpaths all over the country, so that by the telephone box heydays of the early 1990s, there were more than 8,500 in operation around the country. In 2009 the number of public phones in Limerick were cut to 85 with 32 remaining in Limerick city.

Following their demise after 80 years of use, they have become but quaint memories of an older generation regaling their grandchildren with tales of adventure, or romance conducted through whispered confidences in that semi-private box in the middle of the village, or at the end of the road with a queue of people waiting their turn to converse.