There is very little information on the actual building of the Industrial School. Some correspondence about the source of fresh water for it has survived.  It was decided that the main supply should be drawn from a small loch in the Brocky area about a mile to the west of the School.  The contractors, Collen Bros, sent in a price and specification for piping water from this source:

QUOTE FOR WATER SUPPLY TO SCHOOL

We propose to excavate for and provide and lay a 2” cast iron water pipe, weight about 2 quarters, to 6 feet in length, joints made with lead and well caulked with Dr Smith’s solution, from Lake to Building. Also provide and fix on same 2 sluice valves, 2 keys for same, 2 rose heads and 3 air valves, all fitted complete.  Also excavate for and build a filter chamber, size 10’ by 6’ by about 6’ in clear, bottom 12” thick, division wall 12” thick, all in good concrete, top to have four railway bars across it, and form 2 manholes in same with galvanised covers.  Also 3 fine gratings in division wall and fill chambers with suitable gravel as filter, all complete, protect rose heads in lake by posts driven in stones, &c.  All for the sum of £300.0.0, say three hundred pounds. (RDA 11 May 1895).

As the pipe had to be laid through several fields, the owners, John McAdora, Ann Kelly and her son John; and John McIntyre were approached and gave their official permission. (RDA 29 July 1895). Again, solicitor Maguire had to be called in to oversee the signing of documentation for the permissions.  The reason for all the red tape was that the contractor had begun digging for the water pipe on John McIntyre’s land without asking his permission, and McIntyre had objected, so Maguire had to go through all the correct procedures.

ASSISTANT TEACHER Wanted, (R.C.). Strictly Temperate. Able to teach Irish and Singing.  Applications without good Recommendations useless.  Fixed salary.  Apply, stating Age, Qualifications, &c., Industrial School, Killybegs.  (15 May 1901).

Teacher wanted for Killybegs Industrial School. R.C. Salary £20 yearly, with board and lodgings; good testimonials are necessary. Apply to Manager, stating age, qualifications.               14 January, 1899.

We can see the origin of the Kilcar marching bands in this report from 140 years ago:

On St Patrick’s Day, at an early hour, the silence of the morn was broken by the pleasing sound of fife and drum playing favourite national airs along the streets of Kilcar village. Shortly after ten o’clock a procession was formed, preceded by flag bearers, and followed by a fife and drum band.  The members of the procession wore green scarfs, with white border and fringe, and a white cross on each end, white sashes, green neckties, and green ribbons around their hats.  One of the flags was very beautiful, representing on one side ‘the harp’, with the words Erin Go Bragh; on the other, the Sunburst, Round Tower, and Wolf Dog.  A second flag had on one side a representation of our Patron Saint, and on the other the inscription God Save Ireland.  The procession being joined by members from Killybegs bearing flags, they marched to the chapel where they attended Mass, after which they marched in the direction of Killybegs, a distance of some miles.  They then turned back and marched towards Carrick, followed by thousands of lookers-on, who much admired their good order and conduct.  Here they were heartily cheered by the multitude awaiting them; and those of the party who belonged to that district went to their respective homes.  The main body of the processionists marched back to Kilcar, where they dispersed, every man going immediately to his house.  It is gratifying to find that not one of the processionists, not even the thousands who accompanied them, was known to enter a public house on that day.  Much credit is due in this locality to Mr. C. O’Donnell, who presented the party with a beautiful and costly flag; also to Messrs John Gallagher, P. Murray, M. McGuire, and M. Cassidy, the gentlemen who, with Mr. O’Donnell, acted as officers on the occasion.  They exerted themselves successfully in organising the party, and must feel happy that all passed off quietly and respectably.

My book, St Columba’s Industrial School, was published last year.  Perfectly done?  Not exactly; here are some of the mistakes that have come to light since:

1. The list of Chapters at the beginning does not always correspond with the page numbers – there is a slippage of two or three pages.
2. Page 339: The boat, Ard Finnian, D402, was not built for Shemie Corr, but for Paddy Sugrue of Howth.

And here is the first of the things that did not make it to the final version:

 Omissions from St Columba’s Industrial School (1).

 During my time in the Boatyard each new boat setting out on a passage to its home port was monitored by the foreman, Charlie Conaghan, until it arrived safely.

The smaller boats that had no radio equipment were tracked using the Garda stations on the coast, which were alerted to the approximate time of the boat’s passing their district. The Garda were always very co-operative in this kind of exercise, and went out of their way to report back on a sighting or arrival of the boat and crew.  The phone system then was primitive and slow, but the method worked very well. When the Garda at the boat’s destination, who had been given an approximate ETA, reported its safe arrival, the Yard personnel could relax.  Before the phone system reached Killybegs, any such scheme had to rely on the Telegraph, and would have been very cumbersome.

In 1929 some Easkey fishermen had a yawl, built at the Boatyard, and set off for home. The bigger boats were always supplied with masts and sails, (Tommy Cunningham of Spout street being the rigger), but the Easky men had oars only.  The men on board were: Michael Munnelly, Killeenduff, Easky, aged 30, married, six children; William Leonard (20) Easky, single; Patrick Weir (30), Fortland, Easky; Thomas Killeen (30), Easky.

It was in March when the men rowed out of Killybegs harbour for home, as this report explains:

‘The feared loss of the Easkey fishermen who had left Killybegs in an open boat, and were not heard of for several days caused anxiety in the town. Rev. J. Deeney, Rector of St Columba’s Industrial School, where the boat was built, was in touch with the relatives of the missing men during practically all the time, but unfortunately could not give them any consoling news.  On Saturday the Government patrol steamer, Muirchu, arrived in the harbour.  Father Deeney went on board and suggested visiting Inishmurray Island.  The captain agreed, and a couple of hours afterwards the vessel reached the island.  A boat was lowered and a few of the men went ashore.  Immediately on landing they learnt of the safety of the missing men.  It appears that the boat was not equipped with sails, and that progress by rowing was necessarily slow.  Shortly after leaving Killybegs a dense fog enshrouded them.  Bereft of a compass, and in strange waters, the crew were absolutely helpless.  They continued rowing, but having provisions for only a few hours’ journey, their food supply soon became exhausted, and their powers of endurance consequently curtailed.  Fortunately the sea was perfectly calm.  After 36 hours of rowing they knew not whether they sighted land through the fog.  It proved to be Inishmurray.  They landed, and were well looked-after by the hospitable islanders.  They resolved to remain on the island until the fog cleared away, but had no means of communicating with their friends.  The arrival of the Muirchu was timely in that respect, as messages were sent to Easkey as quickly as possible, and all anxiety allayed’.

It’s time to leave the land for a while, and post some stories of the sea:

‘On Monday, 12^th March, 1827, about noon, during a heavy gale, as Archibald and William Clarke were conveying Miss Margaret Cochrane across the ferry from Greencastle to Magilligan Point, when about a hundred yards from the Magilligan shore the boat upset and, awful to relate, these three individuals were almost instantly consigned to a watery grave.  A fourth person on board, a lad named John McKeevers, who had charge of the helm, narrowly escaped death by climbing on the keel of the boat.  The two unfortunate brothers who perished were as expert and respectable boatmen as any on our river.  One of them was only a few months married.  Miss Cochrane was an amiable and interesting young woman; she had been on a visit for some time at her brothers, William Cochrane of Derry, and George Cochrane of Quigley’s Point, and was hastening home to her father in Portrush, who was anxiously looking out for her return, when the dreadful catastrophe occurred’.

Not sure if this is Ulster-Scots, but here goes.  It was written in 1917:

Am comin’ noo tae a very important place ca’d Killybegs, on the sea coast, an’ yin o’ the nicest wee places yin cud weesh for. This is anither terminus o’ a branch o’ the wee Donegal railway, an’, like ither places, the road an’ the rail rins sidey for sidey.  Killybegs has yin o’ the best an’ safest harbours in Ireland, an’ has a depth o’ 24 feet at the deep water pier, which they say cost £10,000. There’s a lichthoose at the entrance, at a place ca’d Rotten Rock, an’ the quay is juist close tae the hotel on the ither side o’ the street.  A guid when o’ships o’ the Armada wur wrecked alang this coast, an’ yin o’ the Spanish captains wha escaped frae a wreck said the Irish wur guid luckin’, the weemen beautiful but badly clothed. (I suppose that was afore the days o’ the Donegal tweed). The people lieve on yin male a day o’ oaten breed an’ soor milk, an’ meat on fast days.  Weel, there has been a change since then, for ivery body lucks tae hae plenty tae baith eat an’ drink in Donegal.

Michael Dalton, E.S.B. controller in the Ballyshannon Power Station invented a new smoking aid. Realising how distracting it can be when the driver of the car starts fumbling in his pocket for his packet of cigarettes, he produced a neat little bracket which holds the cigarette packet and the matchbox open, and the whole gadget is held neatly and secure by two suction cups on the dashboard in front of the driver.  The invention enables the driver to extract a cigarette, and to light the match while keeping one hand on the wheel.

‘A drive of three miles from Ballyshannon took us to Bunatroohan, a small fishing station on Donegal Bay, where we were to embark in a stout open boat for Killybegs. The little fishing community at Bunatroohan possesses about six boats, the owners of which are hardy and industrious men.  They are sadly in want of a quay, the building of which would cost scarcely £100.  At 6.30 we boarded the boat with the owner and two men. We had three oars and a mast, which could be hoisted in case a breeze sprang up, as it did before we were long out.  It took us two hours and a half to cross the bay to the lighthouse at St John’s Point, to reach and cross another and smaller bay, named McSwyne’s.

This narrows into a noble waterway a mile in length and as straight as Sackville Street, at the head of which nestles Killybegs, under the shadow of its mountains. An object of interest was a whale, which followed us a couple of hundred yards off for half an hour, showing in its gambols every now and then its black back, about twenty feet long, above the sea. On nearing St John’s point we observed that the tip of the peninsula is really an island, separated from the rest of the promontory by a channel of about thirty or forty yards.  At first we thought of shortening the journey by running through this channel, but the rush and roar of the waters in it and the height to which the foam was dashed against the rocks deterred us from the attempt. We gave it a wide berth accordingly, and rounded the island into McSwyne’s Bay at the head of which, some five or six miles distant, we saw a glimmer of the lighthouse that was out guide into Killybegs.  Some sunken rocks lay straight in our course, and manifested their presence by rolling up the elsewhere smooth waters into an angry heap, and sending them furiously scudding eastward half in foam, to the promontory which we desired to skirt. The foam was lifted far higher than our mast, and was driven with a force which would have instantly capsized any small vessel in its way.  We bore away, therefore, to the west, and gave our dangerous friend a wide offing.

By and bye, it became necessary to alter our course from west to north, and as the slight breeze was nearly in our teeth, we took down our mast and threw new energy into the rowing. Night fell, and we spent a tiresome two hours more in pulling up to the second lighthouse, from which our run home into the little harbour of Killybegs was comparatively easy. We were very cold and cramped on climbing the quay, but half an hour’s drying at the kitchen fire of the hotel and a refreshing wash-up sent us with hearty appetites to the excellent supper prepared for us by Mrs Rogers.  Killybegs is at once wild and cosy.  You feel yourself free from all the trammels of gentility, without falling into any of the discomforts of barbarism.  The scenery is charming.  In front of your hotel, a long water-lane, ending in the Atlantic.  A few small craft in the harbour – one of them has brought sawn planks from Sligo, another coal from England, and the rest look like pleasure boats.  There are a couple of hundred houses, small, but substantially built, and most of them neat in aspect.  At the left, as you face the sea, rises the square tower of the Catholic Church, which dominates the straggling little town, and is a fine object of view from sea and land.

It contains a large and excellent replica of Murillo’s Holy Family, presented by a former lord of the soil, and recently well restored by Mr Lesage, of Sackville Street.  There are other interesting monuments in the Church, which the visitor will do well to study with the aid of the Illustrated Hand book of South-Western Donegal, published in 1872 by McGlashan and Gill.  Killybegs is, par excellence, a watering place for a family of boys and girls.  There are no bathing boxes for the latter, but there are plenty of nooks at a little distance from the town where a modest maiden can prepare for her bath, and the boys can have ‘headers’ into deep water at many still more convenient points.

I spent an hour inquiring into the rent of houses and cost of living. You can get a very fair cottage with a sitting room and three bedrooms for £10 a year, unfurnished, or for £20 furnished.  There are plenty of delightful sites which you could get for a nominal sum, and build on at your own discretion, and thus possess a perpetual refuge in the hot summer months, for a sum which would only pay for equal accommodation for a single season at Southport or Brighton.  Butchers’ meat, milk, and butter are about seven tenths of Dublin prices, and boats and donkeys are to be bought or hired at very moderate rates.

• There are no social amusements, but there is plenty of fishing with long lines and with the rod, and there are endless excursions within easy reach by land and water. If the excellent hotel had a billiard table it would pay, and be a great resource.  The post car leaves for Carrick at 1 p.m., and today it started with a companion vehicle and some emigrants, whose relatives bid them adieu with all the lamentations usual on such occasions.  A couple of hours afterwards our party started, not without regret, and after a three hours’ drive up hill and down [dale] and through half a dozen villages unknown to fame, drew up at the handsome and comfortable Glencolumkill Hotel of Carrick.  The day was very hot for Ireland – 78 in the shade, I was told – and a tub was most acceptable before dinner, which consisted of half a magnificent salmon, a tiny roast leg of delicious mutton, good new potatoes, without other vegetables, a pudding, and some really excellent claret, at 3s 3d a bottle’.