Latest phase of archive project provides real human insight into 1950's Ireland

For generations the Irish Examiner has recorded the major events in the life of our nation, tracking its triumphs and disasters since the newspaper was first launched in 1841.

Momentous events include the Great Famine, the Great War, the War of Independence and the declaration of a Republic in 1949.

But we have also tracked the everyday concerns of ordinary people, providing a living social history — from the price of bread in hungry times to changes in fashion in more affluent ones.

Much of that material is now available to view online, thanks to the digitisation of the Examiner newspaper archives as part of a national media project overseen by the Irish Newspaper Archives.

Stage one of the archive project launched last November, providing reproduction of the Irish Examiner from its beginnings up to 1939.

That was extended to 1949 last month and today, in Stage 3 of the project, we make available archives up to 1959. The rollout of the rest of the archive at a decade per month will be completed by the end of September.

Ireland in the 1950s may seem like a hugely conservative backwater from a 21st century perspective, yet, five years after the end of the Second World War — or The Emergency as it was known here — there was renewed optimism, glimmers of prosperity were in sight and the old Civil War politics was waning as social concerns over employment, health and housing began to take centre stage.

Yet the Catholic Church and, in particular, the Archbishop of Dublin, John Charles McQuaid was still a force to be reckoned with as a young, brash socialist government minister was about to find out.

When he was made minister for health in the inter-party government of 1948, Dr Noel Browne was determined to tackle two of the country’s biggest health problems — tuberculosis and infant mortality.

TB was claiming 4,000 lives a year, among them members of Dr Browne’s own family, while infant mortality was alarmingly high. The new minister set about building sanatoriums to tackle TB but it was his plan to modernise the Irish healthcare system and make it free and without means-testing for mothers and their children up to the age of 16 that was his undoing.

McQuaid proved to be a formidable foe when he objected on the grounds that the plan was contrary to Catholic Church teaching, expressing the fear that it would pave the way to contraception and abortion.

There were objections also from the Irish Medical Association and from within the Protestant community, with the Church of Ireland Gazzette denouncing the Mother and Child Scheme as tantamount to Communism.

Browne quickly found himself isolated politically and was forced to resign, sparking a General Election which resulted in the return of a minority Fianna Fáil administration headed by Eamon de Valera.

At the same time, modernisation in other forms was gathering apace, with the rural electrification scheme bringing an amenity that lessened the disparity between city and country.

One village that was happy to delay this advance, however, was Cong in Co Mayo when Hollywood came calling to provide the setting for the movie The Quiet Man, starring Maureen O’Hara and John Wayne.

Without television, movies were one of the major sources of entertainment and since its beginnings in 1956, Cork Film Festival attracted stars from all over the world. One of the favourites was the comic duo Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy who visited the city on a number of occasions.

Despite some economic advances, the 1950s was also a time of mass emigration, particularly to the United States. The hardship of life, particularly in parts of rural Ireland, also saw a huge exodus from the countryside to the towns and cities. One of the most poignant moments was reflected in a stunning photograph of the last six inhabitants of the Blasket Islands arriving at Dunquin harbour in Dingle.

The Examiner reporter visited Dunquin national school, recording that “nothing but Irish was to be heard from the 20 or so young children playing in the school yard.”

The reporter met Gearoid Ó Cathair, the schools’s newest pupil who up to a week before, had been the only child living on the Blaskets.

The Examiner witnessed how the little boy “played and laughed and shouted with the others, entirely unaware of the fact that in a language he does not understand he had won headlines in the newspapers as the ‘loneliest boy in the world’.”

The Marian Year of 1954 drew thousands to Catholic Church ceremonies and even major sporting events had strong religious overtones. The only person the famous Cork hurler Christy Ring bowed to was the Archbishop of Cashel before the All-Ireland hurling final, which Cork won.

That year also saw the last execution in the State when Michael Manning was hanged in Mountjoy Prison for the murder of Catherine Cooper, a 65-year-old nurse.

Two years later, Mary Anne “Mamie” Cadden, a midwife, was sentenced to be hanged for murder when an abortion she performed caused the death of Helen O’Reilly. Her sentence was commuted to life in prison.

1956 also saw its share of triumphs, among them the gold taken by Ronnie Delaney at the Melbourne Olympics while the first female gardaí took to the streets.

Towards the end of the decade there were increasing signs of prosperity, with a consumer society emerging from decades of depression.

A four-door Morris Minor could be had for £470, Ford released its new Anglia for £535 and Aer Lingus began to advertise an economy class from Dublin to New York for £155.5s.

These were no Celtic Tiger days, though. Aer Lingus also advertised one-way ‘emigrant fares’ for £60.8s.

To find out more, visit www.irishexaminer.com/archive

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