The image above was taken at Rockaway Beach on 115th Street, what was then the heart of the Irish Riviera. Irish immigrants flocked to Rockaway for a day at the beach, followed by Playland and an evening on the boardwalk. Lucky Irish families came here to spend their summer vacations, staying in boarding houses, usually in one room sharing a communal kitchen, bathroom and outdoor shower. Rockaway was a great place to meet people from “home,” swim in the ocean and soak in the sun. Unfortunately, many of those just off the boat landed in the Emergency Room with 3rd degree burns—the sun on the Rockaway side of the Atlantic far more unforgiving than the sun on their native side.
In this picture, my sister Eleanor is on the left, my sister Kathleen is on my mother’s lap and I’m in the center. A week earlier, we had taken the three-hour, two-fare subway ride from the northwest Bronx carrying cartons of clothes, pots and towels for our Rockaway room. My father looks healthy and rested, apparently recovered from working nights as a bartender in Manhattan where he stood for eight hours straight. (The recently released 1911 Irish census told us that my father was older than we thought: it seems his father lopped three years off his son’s age to avoid possible conscription into the British army. He was 52 when this picture was taken, not 49 as we originally believed.) My mother, a Co. Monaghan native, came from a fair, blue-eyed family who never took the sun—or, for that matter, wore low-cut bathing suits—but she managed to get as tan as her husband and children, forgoing products such as Coppertone, Noxzema and sun hats.
We sometimes stayed in the home of our cousins, Bridie and John Duignan who, like my father, were from Co. Longford. On weekends our families went to 103rd Street, Irishtown, the hotbed of Rockaway nightlife where the dancehalls were named after counties—Leitrim House, Sligo House, Dublin House, etc. The entertainers—the McNulty Family, starring handsome tenor Peter McNulty, Ruthie Morrissey and Mickey Carton—traveled up and down 103rd street spending time in each hall, the longer their visit, the greater their fee. Peter McNulty became something of a headliner drawing the largest crowds despite persistent rumors that he wore a girdle under his flashy plaid cummerbund.
Queens corner boys, like my husband Bob, preferred nearby bar, Gilday’s where the eponymous owner would ask a misbehaving customer to step outside. Once on the boardwalk, Mr. Gilday’s 320 pounds would assume a John L. Sullivan pose as he prepared to challenge the ruffian. Bob never saw Mr. Gilday lose a single fight…and he saw lots of them. Irishtown Saturday nights became known for the standing army of cops and paddywagons that parked in the center of the street.
But mostly it was a quiet time. My parents, the Duignan’s, other boarders, our cousins, the “greenhorns” and those just passing by, would drop by and rock back and forth to the spoken refrain on the porch, “There’s no place like Rockaway!”
I was Lucky enough to join my friend’s. family, the Browne’s, for a few days each year In the early ‘50.s. The fun increased as we grew older and could rent a room with 6 or 7 girls which really was meant for two occupants. Dancing was great on 103rd St
On Sunday night we survived the long trek on two trains back to the Bronx. Many fond memories of our teen-age years.☘️
When World War 1 began in Aug 1914 there was no conscription in the United Kingdom. Conscrription was legislated in 1916 but never implemented in Ireland.
I grew up in Rockaway but much later than the 1950s. Irish town was demolished by the time I grew up but I still got to enjoy Playland and the fireworks every Wednesday night. The rooming houses still existed and all of my dads friends from Kerry would visit us throughout the summer months. The boardwalk was packed 7 nights a week and many of the Irish were seen dancing to cassette players along the boardwalk from 117th Street all the way down to Playland. There were about a dozen Irish Bars around 116th Street and they were packed day and night. It was a great place to grow up.
I know someone trying to remember the bars in Rockaway. Ones near play land up to 116 th street. Can you submit any names. Maybe in the 1955/1970 era
Flynn and McLoughlin, Howley’s, Doherty’s Cave, Boggiano and McWalter’s, The Blarney Castle, Gilroy’s.
“Twas A GRANND TIME “
Growing up in the rockaway.
1955 I was 13 working in Fitzpatricks Parking lots(had 5)
The Bronx Irish would come down (train bridge was burned down)
They would pull in in big 4door sedans like 38 Buicks
With the spare tire on the fender & 10 kids would pile out,
I would park em 10 deep to the wall.
At 4or5 pm they came back threw me a quarter and I would fetch their car.(learned to drive at 9, from a step grand father.
Did me well futz payed us driven boys $75 a week Ann we made another $50 or so in tips.
Went to all the bars at 15,
103 rd st was all BIG bars .
The Dublin house , O’Connell s(no relation)
Flynn&brennens,litchrim castle,
Saw all of 103rd st. Fighting
From the boulevard to the ocean. ( clean)
If a broad went down, the victor would stand there and ask— you had enough?
As I said was “GRANND”
I was 13 in 1955’.
Can never forget “IRISH TOWN”
Larry O’Connell
Gilroy’s was owned by Felix Gilroy, a cousin of my grandfather’s from Drumshanbo, Co. Leitrim. Any info on or memories of him or his bar would be appreciated!
Felix Gilroy was my grandfather. I grew up up in rockaway
I and my friends were all summer people from all over NY and we all lived in bungalows our parents rented. We often went to Gilroy’s on Saturday night and sat in a booth and drank beer. I remember Mr Gilroy always being present in the bar watching over things but what I most remember about him was Sunday mornings at St Rose of Lima Church pulling out a large wad of money at collection time and peeling off some bills and putting it in the basket. Gilroy’s was a nice place and I never recall any trouble there.