May, 2024

Last week Brian Forristal nominated Billy Boland (1912-1998)  as a Glenmore Character. In the 1980’s Brian Forristal, on a summer day, sat on the bank outside of Tommy Connolly’s cottage in Aylwardstown with his father and Tommy Connolly. Along came Billy Boland a “story teller supreme.” Brian in 2011 wrote the article below entitled “Billy Boland and the Derelict Prong.” Brian also came across John Fitzgerald’s book, Kilkenny: A Blast From the Past and also sent the chapter about Billy Boland to us. Fitzgerald dubbed Billy Boland the man of a thousand stories (Callan Press (2005) p. 48-54). Billy also became a bit of a local celebrity when he was interviewed by local radio stations and entertained with his humorous stories regarding true life struggles of the 1920’s, 1930’s and 1940’s.

Early Life

According to Billy’s obituary (Kilkenny People, Fri. 20 Nov. 1998, p. 16) he was born in Bannow, Co. Wexford.  A quick search revealed that William Boland was born on 9 June 1912 to Michael Boland (agricultural labourer) and his wife Mary Chapman/Jackman. Some records record his mother’s maiden name as Chapman, but most of his siblings birth records record her maiden name as Jackman.

The 1911 Census provides that Michael Boland was 43, Mary Boland was 42 and four children were residing in the home. The record provides that the couple were married for 21 years and 9 children were born to the union. Five children were alive in 1911. [1] Mary Boland (b. 23 April 1900); [2] Michael Boland (b. 23 March 1903); [3] Anastatia “Annie” Boland (b. 18 March 1906) and [4] Kathleen Boland (b. 29 Nov. 1908).

Billy lived in Ballyhack and Ballycullane and came to Glenmore when he was nine years old. Both of his parents died when he was young and he had to fend for himself (Kilkenny People, Fri. 20 Nov. 1998, p. 16). When he was nine or ten Billy slept on a sheet of corrugated iron with a few bags thrown over him. “The following morning, I had tracks on me that you wouldn’t see on a zebra” (Kilkenny People, Fri. 17 Feb. 1989, p. 4).

Billy remained in Glenmore where he fished and worked with farmers. One of his least favourite farm jobs was thinning turnips and mangolds. He claimed that with a graufawn (a pick with a wide blade at one end) to have dug more than 30,000 drains, cleared ten miles of ditches and turned 50 acres of land. When work was scarce he waded into the Barrow and filled 4 stone bags with river gravel (Fitzgerald, p. 53).

In 1935, Billy married Mary “Minnie” Power (1916-1990) (Fitzgerald, p. 43). Minnie was born on 3 April 1916 the daughter of Jack “The Miner” Power of Aylwardstown and his wife Anastatia Power. Billy and Minnie had 15 children. Our founder Danny Dowling (1927-2021) was the godfather to their son Billy.

Minnie Boland died 28 September 1990, aged 74, and Billy died 6 November 1998, aged 86.  Their obituaries may be read on our B Glenmore Surname page.

Waging War on Fleas

Several articles refer to the war Billy waged on the army of fleas which were the scourge of rural Ireland. He reported that before he was married he had one shirt. He washed it and hung it on a bush in the yard to dry. The following day he put on his shirt and found it was “jumping alive with fleas.” He went out back and put the shirt on the anvil and took a hammer to it. “It was like beating blackberries out of the shirt it was that populated with the little devils.”

Billy struggled with fleas, but when his children came along and were attacked by fleas he went into New Ross and bought DDT powder for a shilling. “It was like the atom bomb falling on Hiroshima such was the effect the powder had when I shook it on the bedclothes” (Kilkenny People, Fri. 17 Feb. 1989, p. 4).

Poaching Salmon 

When one of his daughters was home from England she wanted to bring some fish back with her. That was on 3 September, and Billy and a accomplice were caught at the Ross side of the Pink Rock poaching salmon. Each man was ordered to pay £300. “We were going to go to jail but decided to pay up” (Kilkenny People, Fri. 17 Feb. 1989, p. 4).  

“Billy Boland & The Derelict Prong,” by Brian Forristal (2011)

The prong is a native boat used mainly in  the Waterford Estuary, and up the river Barrow as far as the town of New Ross. “The Barrow prong” as I like to call it was a familiarity with the fishing tradition on the Barrow to which its shape was aptly suited.

The Barrow had its share of great boat builders down through the generations. In my mind, Tommy Connolly of Aylwardstown was one of the masters and his skills were in great demand down through the years.  Today the only example of his work that I know of still on the river is a prong situated at the northern end of Rochestown marsh, and owned by Michael Ryan of Kearney Bay. To look at her now either floating on the river during the summer months or on her winter stand by the river bank is to revel in the delight of craftsmanship of such a high standard. To think these craft were almost entirely hand made adheres to the skills of the men who created them.

Billy Boland was a man who liked his prong. During the 1980’s he had a prong on the river bank at Aylwardstown. Billy who lived out past Jamestown way at Ballycroney near Glenmore, fished in his younger days. Sadly, the prong he had on the river bank was not in good repair, it had laid there for a number of years mostly forgotten about. One Saturday afternoon in the 1980’s Dad and I were at Tommy’s sitting outside the cottage talking to Tommy on a glorious summer’s day, the sun was boiling hot, the sky blue and the birds in full song.

As we chatted we heard a car making its way down the lane towards us, at first we did not recognise the vehicle but noticed it was towing a trailer. Stopping just where we were sitting who should get out but Billy Boland himself. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he shouted a loud and bellowing hello as if he did not see us for years. He sat himself down beside us with his large expanded waistline acting as a support for his pipe hand, when not puffing on his favourite brand.

The usual introduction and banter begun as everyone caught up on the gossip from Barrowside. Tommy enquired what brought Billy and his trailer down to the river. Billy said he wanted to bring the prong home and have it repaired as his son wanted to use it to fish on the river. I don’t know how he thought he was going to get the prong on the trailer as he was on his own, and if Dad and I were not there only Tommy was present and he was in no condition to help at his age.

On being questioned about this Billy said he was going to wait for the high tide and back the trailer out into the water and float the prong onto the trailer. Billy forgot that the drop into the pill would not let the trailer out far enough to drag the prong in on.

We sat around talking and wating for the tide to rise, fishing stories doing the rounds, punctuated with bouts of laughter. An hour before high water, Dad, Billy and I—Wellingtons’  on us—dragged the prong into the shallow water near the bank. We managed to get her near the sluice gate hoping she would not sink. We positioned her nose into the trailer, and just on the high water the three of us managed to manoeuvre her into the trailer. All this time we had an able foreman in Tommy who gave great instructions on the best form of making the most of what abilities we had.

With the prong securely fastened to the trailer, we all sat down again on the grassy bank and the elders of our group, that excluded me, discussed the best procedures in the repairing of the boat, all the years of experience were levelled on Billy who digested them accordingly.

As the afternoon progressed, the sun was extremely hot still, the tide was now caught between ebb and flow, stopped in all its glory, the only sound to be heard was the voices emanating from the grassy bank. Billy arose and thanked us all for our help and said as soon as the boat was ready to re-launch he hoped we would be here and offer out services. As it transpired, he never did come back to the river with the prong and we never did find out what became of her.

Billy pushed his large frame into the car and in a cloud of dust took off up the lane prong in tow. We stayed on the grassy bank for another while enjoying the remaining of the afternoon. After some time, Molly came to the cottage door and called Tommy for his tea, he arose shook hands and turned from us to the gate.

As he walked away, I thought to myself there goes a man who has lived through and seen so many trials and tribulations in his life, but contented now he seemed in the twilight of his years, a fisherman, a master boat builder, musician and great story teller. Had he been a few years younger I am sure he would have offered to repair Billy’s derelict prong, but now it had to be done by someone else. The gate closed and he disappeared in the dim light of the doorway, it was also time for Dad and me to head home.

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Special thanks to Brian Forristal for sharing his article about Billy Boland and his prong and sending on the Fitzgerald chapter. The photo of Billy Boland and Danny Dowling is from Danny’s photo album. See our post of 9 June 2022 for the entire photo. Billy is on the left and Danny is on the right.

Please send any corrections, additional information or photos to glenmore.history@gmail.com.

Dr. Kathleen Moore Walsh