“Portrush Tales” – to The Farthest Shore – Michael White (Part II)

“I remember Pantomime performances by Rossi Duke and Rodney Byrne. One scene on the final night, the fairy called out for her magic wand, left behind unintentionally in the wings, and was instead handed a toilet seat by Rossi Duke – it was memorable.”

Michael White, now over 50 years in New Zealand, opens up his Pandora’s box of memories and of photographs and writes about his wonderful teenage years in Portrush.
Previously, Part I, Portrush Tales – from The Other Side of the World, describes his family arriving in Portrush and the friends that Michael forms. He continues the story in this episode…

February 1956. Age 13. Dad transfers from Belfast to the old Northern Bank in Portrush. Family moves to No. 2, Strandmore, Portrush…
March 1961. Age 18. Left Portrush for Surrey in England to join the Civil Service…
July 1970. Age 28. Boarded SS Australis at Southampton, bound for Auckland in New Zealand.

Michael writes, “I loved Portrush. The two very long beaches, the harbour, the summer, Dunluce Castle and the Giant’s Causeway in the distance, and time with my friends. Winter, with the wildness of the sea and the chill. And the contrast to the summer, the packed holiday atmosphere of the town, the Arcadia…..

Summer job at the Arcadia
On the outside of the Arcadia dancehall were several kiosks selling all sorts of summertime goodies. There were “American Ices” which served a sugary and creamy dollop, seaside funny hats, plastic toys and buckets and spades. Everyone was on holiday in the summer and the kiosks were all very busy! From 1958, when I was 16, I ran the popcorn and candy floss kiosks, and my friend Maureen McKillop ran the postcards one, next door.

Maureen McKillop from Bushmills who looked after the postcards kiosk at the Arcadia; Michael White at popcorn. 1960

Bert Blundell was the owner of the Arcadia and also of the amusement arcade on Main Street. He would stand on the steps of the Arcadia on summer days, wearing his grey suit and polaroid type glasses, with hand clasped around his very generous midriff, surveying his empire. His silver Rolls Royce car, number plate BB100, would be parked above the steps down to the Arcadia, sitting there no doubt as his symbol of commercial success. I think he was English, sometimes seeming distant and austere and not very approachable, yet affable enough when I got to know him.

Bert added an electric popcorn machine to his fleet of equipment and he offered me the chance to operate it and sell the popcorn. He told me to clean the machine with hot water at the end of the day and so on the first day, I filled the sink up with hot water and dumped it in, little realising the effect on the electrical parts! I did not get sacked but I learned a valuable lesson about water and electricity. Sam Bell, the Portrush electrician was called in to rewire it, and I was shown how to wash it properly and not give the electricals a bath!

Ladies’ Bathing place, on the left; the Arcadia , with my candy floss Kiosk at the top of the steps down to the beach, below the sign “Self Service Cafe”; Maureen McKillop’s postcard Kiosk was to the right of mine.

Pat Moynihan from Portumna in County Galway was the walkabout manager for the kiosks and a ‘bouncer’ for the dancehall in the evenings. He was not very tall, had a shock of curly red hair and always dressed in a checked sports jacket, cavalry twill trousers and what we called brothel creeper shoes. He was a lovely guy with a great Galway accent and when I was working in the popcorn kiosk, he used to call out to me from his position in the middle of the promenade, if he saw a pretty girl, “Michael, an opportunity for you is approaching from the port side.”

Rodney Byrne & Irwin Stewart, Mark Street 1960

I was making candy floss one day with a long queue of people at the window, when there was a bit of a fuss with someone pushing and shoving trying to get to the front, much to the irritation of others. I heard the noise and looked up from my machine to see my mother, elbowing and wrestling her way through the crowd. When she finally reached the front of the queue, she was angry, and I was instructed to get up to the house at once. I declined and carried on working and said I would come up when I was less busy, but she persisted until the people behind her told her in no uncertain terms to “Go away!” She said in front of everyone that she had found my collection of “dirty postcards” under my bed! The crowd roared with laughter, and there were a few cheers and comments from the people gathered around her. I remember being a bit embarrassed. She left when the laughter erupted. I did go up to the house about an hour later and under my bed she had found my postcards with colour cartoon drawings and printed below each drawing was a caption or saying which was usually rude, with some sort of innuendo. They were harmless in a way, and I had amassed a collection of the better ones which I wish I had now as they are worth some money.

Me on the East Strand in 2012, with my house indicated by the arrow over my left shoulder; and me on the steps of 2, Strandmore.

I went back to the candy floss, where the crowd had disappeared and told Maureen about it. She thought it very funny and offered to replace my ‘under the bed’ collection. I did not manage to rescue the postcards from my mother’s clutches though. As my parents spent all their spare and leisure moments at the Royal Portrush Golf Club where they were both good golfers, I suspect the postcards circulated there!

1950s British Railways posters, bringing the crowds to Portrush

CSSM, Sundays, & Church
Summers and the many visitors prompted the ardent preachers in Northern Ireland to come to Portrush. CSSM, Childrens’ Special Service Mission, was one of these, conducted by the large and corpulent Rev. Armstrong who preached his gospel on the East Strand, on the beach opposite our house. I joined for a while during the summer and enjoyed meeting others, helping build Armstong’s sand pulpit on the beach over which he would drape his sashes of ecclesiastical authority. Rev. Armstrong organised many sports activities which were a lot of fun.

We had to go to church on Sundays as it was expected of my father as a Bank official, and he could not take the Monday morning remarks at work about any non-attendance the previous day. Services at the Portrush Presbyterian Church were conducted by the Rev. Kyle Alexander, starting at 11am. After singing a few psalms and hymns and preaching the morning lesson to the under 5’s, they were ushered out to Sunday School. At 12:10pm, the Rev. Alexander would launch into his sermon. Occasionally my mother, much to my father’s gross embarrassment, would ‘slip out’ from the pew just before Rev. Alexander started, explaining that she had “forgotten to turn the oven on for the Sunday joint of meat”, nodding, smiling, and stopping briefly to whisper her excuse to people down the aisle on the way out. After a few Sundays she had to stop this as it was predictable every week, and I heard my father tell her that comments were coming back to him at the Bank.

I reminded my Dad of this many years later in Auckland, and he just nodded and smiled, saying that there were possibly others who wanted to do what she did, but did not have the courage! (Or the “brass neck”!)

Left: “This, I discovered tucked behind the lid of a cardboard box. The back of the photo says, ‘Brother Jeff and me, Arcadia promenade, 1959″. I was 17, Jeff was 12. It may be of interest or use. My brother might enjoy it if he sees the blog. Best, Michael”
Right, West Strand, 1960: Gerald Johnston, Brian Minihan, Brian Cunningham, Derwood Magill, Alan Rainey, Irwin Stewart, Rodney Byrne

One Sunday after church, when having been forbidden to go near the rocks and the beach before lunch, I jumped the rocks at Ladies’ Bay to beat the waves – but slipped and fell in, soaking my shoes and long trousers. I would have been 15. As a punishment when I got home, I was instructed to kneel on the floor and bend over my bed as my father gave me six strong whacks on my backside with a flat piece of wood, saying, “This is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you.” I am not sure that it did, but I was not going to let him see me brought to tears. And he did not. I stood up and stared at him as I held back the tears of pain, but fair enough, I was told not to jump the rocks and I paid the price.

Hard winters in Portrush
In contrast to the summer months, the winter months between November and March were cold and stormy, with the Atlantic roaring in all its fury, whipped up by the strong northeast winds. From the house, which faced northeast and straight out to sea, the scene was often dramatic with huge surf, or ‘Atlantic Rollers’ as we called them, tumbling around as far out as we could see.

I remember sand which had been whipped by the wind being piled up in the little porch to our front door, and my mother sweeping this regularly. Our lounge windows were continually covered with salt from the sea spray carried on the wind, as the house faced into the teeth of any North Easterly gale. Going up the Main Street in winter was a challenge sometimes, as the wind could be fierce, and if you did meet someone coming the other way, it was heads down into the gale. The wind would chill your ears and nose until they were almost numb, and it blew very hard.

the Station, February 1960

We watched television a lot during the dark evenings. ‘Sunday Night at the London Palladium’ with Bruce Forsyth, ‘Bonanza’, ‘The Cisco Kid’, ‘The Lone Ranger’, and rushing home from school to watch the cartoon show of Yogi Bear! In black and white of course – colour television did not become available until 1970, nine years after I left Northern Ireland.

In the yacht club down by the harbour we played snooker and billiards, and then would go to my friend Irwin Stewart’s house on Mark Street as his mother ran a three-storey boarding house which had a television in a large lounge. Many shops stayed open in the winter, however there were few people on the streets, and it was quiet. There were two cinemas on Main Street, one just up from Forte’s Cafe and the Majestic, further on up, and on the other side. I remember my father took us once around 1957 to see a war film, called ‘The Man Who Never Was’, recently remade into ‘Operation Mincemeat’.

Jack McConaghy at Boggs the Chemist, September 1951, with his new assistant, Sadie Douglas / Jefferson;
Tommy Kane, May 1960, with Ray McConaghy, along Croc-na-mac

Photography was a hobby that developed during those months. It fascinated me, I had read many books on it in the CAI Library, and I put my savings from the Arcadia summer job towards buying a Leica camera – still, the basic model was all I could afford in the shop in Coleraine. Whenever I was out with my friends and at school, the camera came too. It was my dearest possession.

Those days, no instant gratification of photos on your phone, instead I would take my black and white film to Bogg’s the Chemist on Main Street. A week later, the envelope of photographs opened with expectation and trepidation to see what I had produced…. Sometimes I was really pleased, but sometimes disappointment that “it didn’t come out.” Jack would review my photos with me, pointing out where I could have taken something into account, like the sun, shadow, light and contrast. As a young boy I liked Jack very much and appreciated his help and advice, friendship, and welcoming smile and banter when I came to the shop. An affable character, he was always good for a laugh, too! He became a great friend, and later years whenever I was home I popped into see him, as I did with Jean Ross in the confectionery shop across the street.

My interest spread to developing my own films and printing of the photographs. My parents allowed me to convert the “boxroom” at the top of our staircase into my darkroom. For advice, Jack told me where he sent my films and he put me in touch with Tommy Kane.

The Harbour, 1960. Photo taken by me with hand-held Leica camera, to capture the silhouettes with the sun going down over Moville and Donegal, on a summer’s evening. Film processed and printed by me at home in my darkroom.

Daytime, Tommy was on the buses with the Ulster Transport Authority; evenings, I could meet him at his family darkroom premises behind the hotel in Eglinton Street, near the old Catering College. He was a lovely man, with a long neck and a prominent Adam’s apple. Tommy was just as helpful in explaining the development side of photography, and what I needed, what to look out for, and suddenly I was into the world of development tanks, chemicals, enlargers needed to complete the printing process, and then buying the paper on which the film and each photograph was printed. I spent many evenings in the darkroom with Tommy, watching and learning, and like Jack, Tommy too was enormously patient and helpful. Many of my photos are included in this story.

Other technical hobbies, my friend Rodney’s elder brother, Gary, showed me how to build a “crystal set” which was a tiny, primitive radio receiver. I would shop around looking for the parts in Coleraine on the way home from school, and then solder bits and pieces together and connect the wires. It was successful and I listened through an old pair of earphones which I found in a second-hand shop, but the only station I could receive was Radio Luxembourg which broadcast in English from Luxembourg. It broadcast pop music and was supported by commercials, such as:
“The time by my H. Samuel Everite watch is now 10.15 p.m.—precisely!”
I used to listen to it in bed under the bedclothes.

Robinson Crusoe, pantomime, 1961: Alex Diamond and Tony Kane; Rodney Byrne

The streets were quiet in wintertime but local drama and music and other such groups were busy. The annual pantomime was put on by the local Church of Ireland drama group, in December and into the first week or so of the new year, and was a highlight of those winter months. I couldn’t take part as I was not a member of that church but enjoyed helping where I could. I did take a few photographs, and about a year ago posted a photo of three people whose names I couldn’t remember on to a Facebook page on Portrush and replies came from two people saying they were relatives who were amazed at seeing their uncles in panto costume, some 60 years later.

I remember performances by Rossi Duke and Rodney Byrne. One scene on the final night, the fairy called out for her magic wand, left behind unintentionally in the wings, and was instead handed a….. toilet seat, by Rossi Duke – it was memorable.

1960. summer, me at the west strand; right, Christmas

We celebrated a White family Christmas, 1960, at Portrush. My parents and brother Jeff are standing there in front of the tree, a Mr and Mrs. Green, their son Denis and a friend of Jeff’s, and a Matt Gilfillan in the left corner. Me, I had finished school in June 1960, and in limbo had some months helping out in classes at Inst before and after my interview in London for the Civil Service, in November.

In that interview, me with my Senior ‘A’ Levels in languages, I asked to be considered for the the Immigration department. And just before Christmas a very official OHMS envelope arrived, confirming that I was appointed as…. a trainee Tax Inspector with the Inland Revenue! I was 18, and this would be my last carefree family Christmas at home, before I would start work in Surrey, in March 1961.

Left, Geraldine, Irwin, Angela, Pat and Derek Watson in 1960, with “props” for the occasion!;
right, February 1961,

During those winter months as teenagers, we would gather in various homes listening to the new records. A few experimented with smoking cigarettes but it did not appeal to me and I never did. There was some beer, but I cannot remember any of us getting drunk and certainly any sort of drug had not been heard of. Some of us in our group of about 10, as we got a bit older, started pairing off into couples and it was good fun to find out that “She has dropped him and is now going out with ———-.” The photo above right is February 1961, the month before I went to England, me with Sandra Quigley at the Boathouse in Coleraine.

I left Portrush in March 1961 and went to England to join the Civil Service, visiting back to see family and friends in the summer, and then for Christmas.”

David writes: The BBC has recently been celebrating with Sadie Jefferson on her 71 years, since 1951, of working at the same chemist location on Main St. in Portrush. Looking for photos of her at the chemist for the BBC articles, Jack McConaghy’s son Ray has just found this previously-unseen photo in Jack’s photo albums. Sadie of course on the right; in the centre is the pharmacist, Jack McConaghy.

The young man on the left was unknown to us.

Last week, I received the memorabilia from a Michael White, celebrating his 80th birthday in New Zealand, and writing up his teenage Portrush story. He mentions doing some photography at Bogg’s the Chemist.

Ray looks again at Jack’s photo album. It is meticulously captioned, and says,
‘Dec 1961 [Jack McConaghy] with Sadie & ……..Michael White ‘.

It is amazing!!! Michael had visited the shop to see Jack when home for his first Christmas from England. The photo was taken with Jack’s box Brownie camera, by the then owner of Boggs Chemist, George McCann (‘I seem to remember a shortish baldheaded man, also in the shop’) and it was in Jack’s possession. Now, 61 years later, Michael is seeing this photo for the very first time, and is so delighted, it representing the years of friendship with Jack.

And Sadie remembers: “I so enjoyed reading the blog! Michael worked with us on his summer school holidays. He was a lovely young man. He went to Coleraine Inst. After he left us to go to university [well, Civil Service in England] I lost touch with him. I was amazed that he ended up in NZ !!  I can’t believe he is 80 now. I knew his Dad,  he was in the old Northern bank next door to the shop. He was a gentleman.”

Michael continues: “The next year, 1962, my Dad was transferred back to Belfast and I lost contact with N. Ireland and Portrush for some years. In England in the 1960s, I met Jacqui, my future wife, at a party in her Nurses’ Home at Kingston Hospital in 1966. Her parents had just emigrated to New Zealand and she was under stern orders to follow on completion of her training in 1968. Instead, we married in 1968 and she stayed while I completed my accountancy course at Night School.

Then, after 6 years with the Inland Revenue, after some consideration we set off in pursuit of a huge adventure and the challenge of a new life in a new country. We boarded the SS Australis at Southampton on 3rd July 1970.

Six weeks later, Jacqui and I sailed into Auckland in 1970. I was greeted with some reserve by my new parents in law, who were miffed that I had not asked them for their daughter’s hand in marriage!
Well, I replied, You weren’t there.

Michael White, today, and with six of my 12 grandchildren at “Hobbiton” from ‘Lord of the Rings’, in the northern half of the North Island, about under 2 hours drive south of Auckland; 80th birthday celebrations

There followed for me an interesting and successful career in finance and financial management. Our family grew, four children, until sadly my lovely Jacqui died in 2006 at the age of 59.

“This is “Takapuna Beach,” 5 minutes drive from where I live, 15 minutes drive from the city centre.”
Hmm…. which is better: New Zealand, or the East Strand?

I now look after myself in a very pleasant retirement village near the beach on Auckland’s North Shore.

It may be many years and miles away from Portrush but the ties are still there. I met a couple from Bangor and mentioned that a friend from Portrush, Liz Clarke, had moved to Bangor with her family. They knew her and told me that she was married and living in New Plymouth in New Zealand. We caught up and have been good friends with her and her husband John since about 1972.

I have returned to the ‘Port’ several times over the years from my New Zealand home. Having just celebrated my 80th birthday, I have really enjoyed gathering up my memories and my photographs of teenager years in one of the best places on Earth, one of the best phases of my life, and I hope that you have enjoyed them too.”

Part I – “Portrush Tales” – from The Other Side of the World – Michael White
Part II – “Portrush Tales” – to The Farthest Shore – Michael White

Links to related “Portrush Tales” blogs –
The Swingin’ Sixties!
Portrush, Easter – My Day in Barry’s, Barry’s and the Wall of Death
1600s – a Century of Trouble (about Dunluce castle)
“You must see the Giant’s Causeway”
Sunday School Excursion to Portrush (day trips to Portrush, 1950s)

With thanks to……
Michael refers to Rodney Byrne’s “Vintage Port” with superb descriptions of characters, events, and life in general in and around the Port in the 1950’s
Photographs courtesy Michael White, Ray McConaghy, Pauline Hunt, David Martin
Postcards from Sheila Brown
Archive photographs from History of Portrush Facebook group