Snow-fakes in Mayo, ‘Miss-Print’ and Lough Ness monster
By Tom Gillespie
ALLEGATIONS of fake news are now an everyday feature, thanks to the utterings of ex-President Donal Trump, but back on January 12, 1977, I’m afraid I was guilty of such a faux pas.
As you can see, this wonderful snow-bedecked picture of Christ Church in Castlebar was a real Christmas card gem.
I thought so anyway, and so did the then Church of Ireland Bishop of Killala and Achonry, Most Rev. John Neil, later to become head of the Church of Ireland as Archbishop of Dublin.
The photograph was taken by Paul Heverin from the upstairs of Josie Bourke’s Garage on Ellison Street.
In order to get the shot all he had to do was lean out through the narrow window, focus on the church building and shoot.
Not so. In order to get the perfect image he had to hold the camera in one hand and use the other to click the button.
So I had the task of holding onto him for dear life as Paul dangled precariously out of the window and finally got the required shot.
The following day I collected the print from Paul. Those were the days before digital and I had to wait until he developed the print in his darkroom further down on Ellison Street.
In those days the pages of The Connaught Telegraph were made up in hot metal. Each page was enclosed in a chase and individually printed off.
Then the journalists in the newsroom would use white poster paint to remove any of the blemished, such as ‘slug’ marks - pieces of metal or timber used to hold the metal page in place and were higher that the actual type.
So that Wednesday evening the final page to come to us was page one with the imposing Church of Ireland photograph.
Looking at the picture I felt the building could do with a little added snow and so I got to work with the white poster paint.
The ‘snow’ over the windows and on the tower, I have to admit, is white poster paint.
The Connaught hit the streets the next morning and there was much praise of Paul’s photograph and the adjoining article with the headline ‘Heaviest snow in 30 years’.
Days past and then I received a phone call from Bishop Neill, who resided then in Crossmolina.
He felt the photograph would make a suitable Christmas card and could he have a copy of it.
But alas, I had to own up and confess my artistic ruse, much to the disappointment of Bishop Neill.
Some time later I did meet up with Bishop Neill and his wife, Betty, at a function in Pontoon, and we had a good laugh over my poster painting, but I had learned my lesson.
Before I joined The Connaught Telegraph in August 1968, my uncle Bernie Gillespie, a legend in the west of Ireland newspaper sector, and news editor John McHale were blessed with very vivid imaginations.
They were not slow in ‘manufacturing’ sensational stories. And so one evening, in Jim ‘Yank’ Kelly’s (now Gerry Tolster’s) Pub on Spencer Street, Castlebar, the talk turned to cleaning the chimney for Christmas.
The debate went on and on until Jim told the story of how one of his customers, a Mr. Kilcourse, used a goose to clean his chimney.
The poor goose was carried to the roof of the house and put down the chimney.
The constant flapping of wings as he descended into the fireplace dislodged the soot and the discoloured waterfowl rejoined his comrades in the farmyard.
Literally the story took wings after it appeared in The Connaught. Photographers and reporters from the national tabloids flocked to Castlebar in search of the illusive goose or gander and I believe some ‘deal’ was made with a goose-owning farmer to pose for the cameramen. Everyone went away happy and the goose was well toasted in Kelly’s of Spencer Street.
‘Midnight’ the cat was another of Bernie’s specials. My other uncle, Denny Fahey of Newantrin Street, had an episode where a cat stole a freshly caught trout from his home and Bernie duly christened him in print.
Another ‘manufactured’ running story was when ace photographer the late Liam Lyons took a picture of a piece of bog oak that resembled the Lough Ness monster at a lake side between Mulranny and Achill. The image with a lake in the background looked the real thing.
Some years later my colleague Tom Kelly got several front page articles on another Achill monster which again attracted national attention.
These light-hearted stories, which readers always enjoyed, constantly generated huge interest and certainly sold papers.
But how times have changed. Now everything has to be both politically and gender correct.
When I became a member of the National Union of Journalists in 1970 the annual press ball was the social highlight of the year where we annually crowned a ‘Miss Print’. It would not be such a good idea today. But, as they say, a newspaper won’t refuse ink.