It is the cacophony of noise and the flashing of neon lights and the smells of sickly popcorn and of grease that hits you when you walk in the front door of Barry’s. And the electric sparking of the Speedway. And the excitement.
It is Easter Saturday, the opening day of the season. It is treat day, when we have 10/s or a fiver or a tenner to spend.
There is a group of us on this outing together, over the years, writing our stories and images……
David, 1970s: the Speedway and the Dodgems were favourites. The tannoy, the electric buzz and the sparking of the electricity and the excitement, and off we go. My brother Trevor says he always thinks of the Speedway as where he learnt to steer.
The dodgems – slipping and sliding, swerving to avoid being hit, and aiming to clip the other car to send it into the border wall at full speed, so that they ricochet violently back while I sail on past.
Beyond, at the back of Barry’s, was the Cyclone – whew, vomit zone for me, don’t go there – and the Big Dipper.
One of the kiddie rides, maybe a Dalek or a space ship, with rubber balls on antennaes coming out the top. Watching the staff at quiet times, using the air rifles from the firing range to fire the pellets with the rubber balls as the target.
The hobby horses were so cool, beautifully painted and graceful.
Out the front was the gorgeous old-fashioned helter-skelter, with the scratchy hemp mats to sit on.
Sheila Kane: “In the 70s there were the security men at the door who stopped folk on the way in to check all bags and baggage for nasties … not that it bothered my friends and me because all we carried was strawberry flavoured lip gloss, a small mirror, and some loose change in the hip pockets of our Wrangler or Levi jeans! No mobile phones in those days! Oh the freedom … but just how did we survive without taking photos of ourselves, our Morelli’s Coke Floats, Rudi’s cheeseburgers, Fortés ice cream sundaes?? How come I can even remember these without the pics to remind me??
“The Laughing Policeman just inside the door where for 6d in old money you could be frightened by a huge ventriloquist’s dummy type thing laughing away demonically in a policeman’s uniform! Thankfully it was locked securely in a big glass case!
“Also, the Ghost Train … always good for a safe scare if one suspended one’s knowledge that the ghoulish things weren’t real. The Cyclone was my favourite though – that sailing through the air at top speed with the warm breeze and warm smells of Barry’s blowing in your face and through your hair.”
ABC: “O goodness… it’s odd that I think of Barry’s as a happy place, but I actually hated it in reality!! That sweet sickly smell hanging in the air of candy floss, all the noise and lights… I now know I was quickly over stimulated as a child in environments like that (or the school canteen!) and slightly dissociated into a state of detached oblivion, being fought against by a sugar high, and the terror I felt on any of the ‘big rides’… but I’d try to save face by tagging along and pretending!!!
“Was there a ghost train to the right? I think I enjoyed that… and getting out the back to the fresh air again! There was one out there, maybe a pirate ship? And when I was older the one that didn’t go too fast but you felt really high above the sea? But even the slower ones scared me after one of the plane crashes in the news and horrible thoughts of what the passengers felt as it went down. O goodness, I even found the dodgems scary come to think of it and would try to tootle about in a corner away from the other cars! Laughing as I type this… why did I get excited to go when I obviously found it bloomin traumatic?!?!
“I did enjoy the coin dozers! They were my safe place… and of course the machines were closer to the fresh air!”
DEF: “Think I was barred from it most of my teenage years… so nothing to report lol”
My cousin Heather, 1960s: “That’s a difficult one as nothing interesting is jumping out at me other than very stupidly taking you wee ones on the ghost train and Ivan screaming the place down. It took all my strength to keep him from climbing out of the train. I think the best thing were the free passes your Dad got for us. Sorry but that’s the best I can do, not helped I suppose because it became a place I hate to go to now that I’m old and miserable lol xx
“The only rides I went on were the cyclone, the bumper cars and the hobby horses. Of course you and Ivan were our disguise to go on the hobby horses – well I did tell you I’m a dreadful scary cat i can’t and never have done heights the switch back was a definite no even though in the 60s it was a tiny thing compared to the one now lol xx
Sheila Brown, 1950s: “Barry’s was the favourite place for the children coming for their Sunday school outing – they all shouted when they saw the sea. The food was served in the Methodist hall. Harold my husband said it was the highlight of the year: he had a 10/s note to spend. He said he watched others losing their money with the grab machine, not a lot of prizes came the out chute.
“There was the Ghost train – quite scary. Laughing sailor – funny. One day the monkeys escaped out of Barry’s ran up through the station across the into a fruit shop quite the racket. The wee cars you will remember.
“When my brother Robin was about 6 the African tribe came to Barry’s and Robin heard all the talk, so he endlessly ask my dad if he could go. I was older so I had to take him. He was standing in the queue and the noise coming out of the enclosure was quite something – they walked on nails, ate fire, …. We were first in the line up and this enormous African came tearing round the corner – Robin took to his heels to get the bus home – no more talk when he got home.
Reba Jackson, 1950s: “Just a few memories of Barry’s . Loved the hall of mirrors (as a child it was so funny seeing all the contorted shapes). Loved the little train rides outside and excitement of ringing the train bell .
“A big treat in 1953 Year of the Coronation, Portrush Council gave Primary school children tickets to use for free rides on what took our fancy! I remember getting the first potato crisps with a little paper twist of salt in Barry’s.
“I remember my father enjoying the Wall of Death by talented bike riders doing amazing stunts . I was not so keen to watch!
“I remember Mrs Trufelli moving about among the visitors – she in my mind’s eye seemed to glide and was most approachable. When my cousins came to visit from Donegal it was a treat for all of us to head to Barry’s.”
Gerald Bradley, late 1940s: “As a teenager 6 to 8 of us, all from the Castledawson area, would have taken a chalet around August in Ballyreagh or Craigstown. Our days would have been spent swimming, sunbathing and playing games. The latter part of the day we would all have gone into Portrush and spent time in Barrys or Phils amusements playing the juke box.
“A favourite place before heading back would have been the Coronation Cafe, just across from the Majestic cinema, for a fish supper. My first impression of Barrys at that time was the water feature just inside the front door. Younger children could sail around in small boats. On the other side was the ghost train where you could hear the squeals of the girls. Towards the back was the most popular attraction – the bumper cars. They also had a large ballroom at the rear where big bands played most nights. I remember seeing Edmundo Ross play there.”
Herby Lennox, 1970s: “One thing right enough: my father worked for Frank Trufelli first at his house (he was a joiner) then in Barry’s itself, making casings for slot machines etc. He was also instrumental in building the tower in middle of it for change cashiers, but I think it was built as a security measure with men on the top floor looking over the whole premises. This was late 60s or early 70s.
Jim, 1960s: “The Model Ts were probably one of the cushier jobs. 3 people to operate them – Mrs Trufelli was wheeled out each day in her wheelchair and then never left the cask kiosk until closing time. She never missed anything that was going on.
“Bob was a retired bus driver recovering from a bad year with shingles. And me. A lovely job in the good weather but miserable on a cold wet evening when there were no customers and all we could do was huddle in the machine room.
“I think I did 2 years on them. I probably did Browns newsagent in ’64, Arcadia ’65, Barry’s ’66 & ’67 or ’68. Then NUU. Can’t remember what I did during university years.”
David: Boating pond, little remote controlled boats. We were out for an evening walk, looking at the pond. Jim’s girlfriend nudged me for a joke, caught me off balance, and i fell in. She vamoosed quickly.
AG: “He grew up in Hamilton Place, the house at the end. His family connections to Barry’s go right back to the travelling circus. I remember his mother telling me about the circus acts staying in their wee 3-bedroom house in Hamilton Place. The small man Hoppity Hop slept on a shelf that pulled down on top of the cooker. Sure his aunt Bridie married the trapeze artist Ronnie Langford who recently passed away. Remember all the leather satchels the old Barry’s boys wore with their green jackets? His dad Albert made them all. He himself worked in Barry’s when he was 11 and then returned to work there about 20 years ago. Taking over his Uncle Ronnie’s ride (The Cyclone) and painting it during the winter.”
Cousin, Pam, 1960s: “David you have a much better memory than me, I remember going to Barry’s more than once but cannot remember the rides probably too busy screaming lol!!”
Cousin, Jon: “Loving your tales of Portrush. Sadly I don’t have any to add. I can only remember going there once, possibly in 1969. My only recollection is that we went on the dodgems, I hit my head on the pole, I obviously wasn’t holding on tight enough”.
(PS Interesting: I ask the younger generation, my nephews and nieces and a number of other people too, for more recent stories and photos: but even with so many mobile phones taking millions of photos, no-one has got any to give me (& so big thanks to Amanda Gibson for many photos here). And I did reach out to the Trufelli family for a proof-read and for a quote or update on status but no response, maybe my messages not received.)
Trevor, 1960s/70s: “I remember going down just after the Big Dipper was erected and one of the first cars got stuck at the top. Attendant was in it and had to get out, push it and get in again Also, attendants going round sitting on the back of the car – where was health and safety when you needed it?”
WS, 1960s/70s: “Working in Barrys was the pinnacle of summer jobs. You could work on the Big Dipper, the Speedway, the Cyclone or the Bumpers (I know they were called the Dodgems but no one ever drove them that way).
Right, Amanda: “The view from inside the Cyclone box…with the best view of West strand and summer sunsets.”
“Eddie or sometimes Mr Trufelli could be seen at the office door surveying all around, making sure that everyone was doing their job. He was also pleased to see everyone rolling their big pennies down the slot to win 3 or 6, betting on the red, green or blue horse to win or standing in awe at the Laughing Policeman (or was it a clown?). But being the big dipper brake man was the bestest job of all.
“We were out all day in all weathers and on a Wednesday we could see the day trippers disgorge from the trains and buses and run like a swarm of ants to the Big Dipper, such was the excitement. It was a responsible job, I was told. The rattly, noisy chain slowed the returning cars a bit but it was up to me to make sure they stopped where they should. It was totally weather dependent: wet days reduced the track friction so much that Kevin had to ensure that there was not too much weight in the cars otherwise they flew so much they screeched around the last corner and were difficult to stop.
“In those days Ulsterbus drivers were renowned for being like Michelin men, so every now and again Kevin would squash four of them into a car (and I mean squash!) and send them up in the rain just for a laugh. They were impossible to stop (slowed slightly would’ve been more accurate as they whizzed past me and crashed into the stationary cars on the platform). They all seemed to enjoy it none the less.
“The other hazard was windy days. If the wind blew in the wrong direction the car would not manage up the first hill after the big dip and clunked back onto a ratchet – which required someone to climb to that car and push it over the remaining bit of the hill. The problem was, the only way down was for me to put one leg in between the back passengers, one leg outside on the rear bumper, hold on for grim death and come down the rest of the ride with them. That’s three more hills and a spiral…. so much for health and safety!
“Youthful exuberance abounded: one particular girl was standing at the steps looking up until Kevin invited her into the front carriage, made me accompany her, wrap my arm around her and pushed our heads together for the duration of the circuit. Quite an introduction!”
Photographs taken on the last day of Barry’s operation, Sunday 1st September 2019, before Covid closed in (courtesy: Amanda Gibson).
“It was thirteen hours a day, six days a week. Can’t say I made my fortune there, but we had fun and the customers had fun too. It was a happy place to be.”
Portrush, Easter – My Day in Barry’s
It is the cacophony of noise and the flashing of neon lights and the smells of sickly popcorn and of grease that hits you when you walk in the front door of Barry’s. And the electric sparking of the Speedway. And the excitement.
It is Easter Saturday, the opening day of the season…
Barry’s and the Wall of Death
George Brockerton, a Coleraine boy. He rode in the first NW-200, raced and won in the Ulster Grand Prix and Isle of Man TT, and had a cafe at Ballyreagh along the road to Portstewart.
He served in both world wars, rode the Wall of Death outside Barry’s. He is an awesome super-hero – and an ordinary guy too.
Until 3 weeks ago, I had not heard of him. I must tell his story.
Barry’s and the Helter Skelter
“Back then employment law was a lot more relaxed and you could work from 10am to 10pm with two one hour breaks. In my favourite season I spent all summer at the top of the ‘Slip’ or Helter Skelter with Graeme Tosh collecting the money at the bottom of the slide. Now that was a great summer, sitting getting a tan with a bird’s eye view of everything happening in Portrush.”
Portrush Tales 
Brilliant memory snaps from through the years, and from different perspectives – and interesting that not everyone was enamoured with all that Barry’s had to offer! Oh how I wish I’d been around when the monkeys were there, the Wall of Death, and the African Tribesmen … how amazing it must have been to see things like this that one would probably only have seen in books or on tv in those days.
Love the photos and newspaper snippets too.
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One year Barry’s had a booth where for a sum of money about 4 people would cram in to a . booth and make a record. Our friend and leader David Fallis suggested we should break into showbuisness and being at Queens had suggested a song that he had picked up at university. This had to be one of the crudest songs I have ever heard, but after a bit of practice we piled into the box and recorded the song. Three minutes later covered in sweat we opened the door and piled out, only to realize that there was a play back and two young ladies made there way to enter the booth. What a scramble to stop the two girls from entering and also making a din so that they could not hear the recording. Alas we didn’t make the big time.
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