Larry Montague's Memories of Ballyknock

As a young boy of seven my parents sent me to my Aunt Mamie's home in Ballyknock to avoid the sectarian riots of 1935-1936 which were raging in Belfast.I was too young to understand the gravity of events that were taking place and therefore quite happy to enjoy the freedom and adventure which the beautiful countryside offered.So commenced my love affair with Ballyknock, the jewel of fair Kilwarlin, nestling in the fertile valley of the river Lagan. Unfortunately my stay was all too brief as the situation in Belfast rapidly deteriorated.

Our house was burned down and my parents were forced to run for their lives and take refuge in a safer area (i.e. occupied mainly by Catholics). Except for a few items of sentimental value , all our furniture and belongings had been burned or looted in the riot. The few items we still possessed were saved from the rioting mob by good graces of our protestant neighbours who, having been warned of the impending rampage, very kindly offered to take and store any small items of significant value until cessation of the riots. Our good neighbours did this at not inconsiderable risk of reprisal, had it leaked that they had helped us in any way.I well remember my father pointing out to me that the true Protestants were these kind neighbours and not the rioting mob who had committed the atrocities in the name of religion.

My parents, after a short time of staying with my grandmother while searching for safe rental accommodation, decided to bring me home from Ballyknock and recommence my interrupted schooling. This was the time of the great world depression and Belfast was hard hit with massive unemployment.Nethertheless my parents bought a new house in a new Anderstown estate close to the Glen Road in the catholic area of the upper Falls Road.After a few good years for us, my father lost his job due to the deepening depression, and joined the long queues of desperate men looking for an ever dwindling supply of jobs.

My mother , ever the entrepreneur, started a small shop which was moderately successful in easing our financial difficulties, however life was by no means easy and by this time I was attending the prestigious St Malachy's College which involved a fee burden.My father decided at the outbreak of World War II to get a job in England, and in his absence I took the opportunity to leave school and get myself a motor mechanic apprenticeship.Suddenly I was an earner, receiving the pricely sum of five shillings a week for the first year ( a qualified mechanic earned three pounds and ten shillings per week). Still I was no longer a total liability.

At this time I was playing soccer with a small league club, and was invited to train with the great Belfast Celtic .

At the age of sixteen I was overawed to find myself training with several Irish internationals.Life was suddenly great! We moved to a larger shop, my father came home and got a job and I was looking forward to a possible future as a signed player with Celtic.

That was until Hitler took a hand.

My parents and I, responding to air raid warnings on several occassions, fled to the Black Mountain which was few miles from our home. Eventually it was decided to sell up and move to Ballyknock, where we rented a house close to my aunt Mamie.Little did I know the huge impact that move would have on my life.The house we rented was part of a small farm which belonged to Harry McKeown, a widower who lived with his daughter and his two brothers in an adjoining small holding.We had on occassion previously rented this house for summer holidays and despite my age (11 or 12 years) I had cast an appreciative ey on Harry's very pretty ten year old blonde daughter Sadie (aka Sarah).Sadie however, at that time had ignored my best efforts to win her heart, but now as a sixteen year old I seized my chance to renew the pursuit.

I had to travel by bus to Belfast and back each day to and from my place of work, a total of 34 miles.On training nights at Celtic, (Tuesdays and Thursdays) we were instructed to train on an empty stomach, which was fine for those living in Belfast, but for me it meant delaying my dinner until around 11 pm, as my bus dropped me off two miles from my home at 10.30pm.On Sundays I captained the Kilwarlin gaelic football team.The end result was that I fell into bad health and was ordered to cease all sports until such time as my doctors saw fit. I had been playing for some time with a fractured wrist so, upon ceasing to play football I had my wrist in plaster for nine months. During this time my health improved and I was declared fit to play gaelic but was advised against resuming the extensive soccer training regime.That was the end of my soccer ambition although I might never have made the team anyway as they were elite team in Ireland and I probably wasn't good enough.That was the downside of my return to Ballyknock, and in the light of subsequent events, turned out to be merely a blip on the radar.

All this time my courtship of the fair Sadie continued with varied degrees of success. I was by no means the only contender for her affections, but I was certainly the most persistant.By the age of eighteen I had determined that this was the girl I was going to marry and happily, having shaken off the opposition, I achieved my objective at the age of twenty four.

It took sectarian riots and a World War to bring me to beautiful Ballyknock where I have spent many happy years.

It was with great regret that the educational requirements of our children and the lack of facilities forced us to leave our home there and move to Lisburn where I worked.Even so, we kept our house in Ballyknock and spent our holidays there, until political trouble dictated that, in the interests of our family, we leave Ireland and go to Australia.