Chapter 13 — St. Patrick’s Kilkenny

Neglect and emotional abuse

One witness was rescued from abject neglect and brought to St Patrick’s. My father used to very seldom work, he’s worked for farmers but very seldom. Most of the time he used to go out playing at the accordion, at the crossroad dances and the Feis Ceoil or whatever, you know. When he’d come home at night – well, before he went out he used to lock us all in the coal hole, the three of us in the coal hole, and let us out when he come in because there was no-one to look after us. One night we got out of the coal hole and I went down to the church [local], there is two churches there, there is, the Friary and the other church, it was Christmas time and I took money out of the crib, the crib money, and bought three Mars bars for myself, [and two sisters] in one of the shops. Somebody reported me buying them because they knew us around there that we never had anything and that’s actually why we were sent away, I think. He always locked us in the coal hole. I remember that time when we were being arrested, that’s the only time I ever remember the priest or the police getting involved ... Not out of the theft in the church but out of being seen buying the Mars bar and everybody knew we shouldn’t have had money to buy them, you know ... From there on I suppose we were kept an eye on and we were eventually sent away because of that. We were always scruffy, we never washed. Our hair – actually I had nits and lumps, all kind of scabs on my head when they sent me away. I can remember that, being washed and cleaned and you had your head shaven and that, you know.

On an application to court by the ISPCC, two of the children were put into care, but the oldest girl of 14 years was kept at home: There was three of us taken, my oldest sister, my other sister and me, and two of us were sent away because they said my oldest sister had to stay to look after my father, he had no-one to look after him. She stayed there to look after him and we were sent away.

He spoke about the great relief he felt at being listened to and believed: Well, the only thing I want to add really is I feel very relieved after 40 years, I used to tell people sometimes when I was drunk in the pub, you know. You would meet somebody and they would bring something up and you would kind of ... you could see it in their eyes that their weren’t listening to you, they would be looking at you like a zombie, either straight through you or over your shoulder. The next day I would feel sorry for telling them. It might take me a week to get over the guilt of him knowing and telling someone else because they didn’t listen. In the last two or three years since I have had counselling and all I have noticed people listening, looking at you straight in the eye and listening to you. That has made a big difference to me in my confidence. It has made me feel that I can move on, which is something I never felt before ... Belief is the main word in this, belief, or listening. Not even belief but actually listening and saying "oh, did that happen to you" ... People seem to have changed because whether they just wanted to – people used to look at me and say that happened inside walls, it’s got nothing to do with me. Now people are saying, they are looking through the wall or over it. They are listening to you. You are not talking gobbledegook or things like that. The difference that has made to me is unbelievable.

Another ex-resident, who used to receive occasional visits from his older sister, recounted a story that had left a lasting impression: My sister ... came to visit me there once and we were going through the School and passed by the kitchen and the kitchen door was open. There was an old nun at the sink and I remember [my sister] asking me if I wanted a drink of water. I said I would love one. She asked the nun, I couldn’t believe she had the nerve to ask the nun for a drink. The nun came over and asked if I would rather have a glass of milk instead of water. I couldn’t believe that she would ask me if I wanted a glass of milk. I thought that was the greatest thing ever. It’s the only time I ever remember getting a glass of milk.

Although he had no memory of the food he got in St Patrick’s: ‘That glass of milk sticks out like anything’.

This complainant said that the children were afraid to ask for a glass of water in the summertime. He said that they would get water out of the toilet cistern rather than ask for it: The cistern is the part up top that stores the water and you pull the chain, it had a chain on it. There was four or five cubicles with a partition between each. I can’t remember exactly how many cubicles there were or how many toilets there were. The cubicles did not reach the wall and we used to – two of us, one would stand on the toilet and the other would give us a lift up and we would sit on that partition wall and lean across and scoop the water into our mouth from the cistern. I would get down then and give him a hand to get up to get the water out.

When asked why he did not ask for a glass of water, he explained: You dare not ask, you just did not ask for things in that School ... There used to be buckets of water taken out by this man, I remember, but it wasn’t often enough.

A subsequent occasion, when the witness was in another industrial school, illustrated the relationship he had with the nuns in St Patrick’s: Guinness put on a show at Christmas time and boys from the schools were asked to either do something on stage for entertainment for everyone. I was learning how to Gaelic dance at the time so a Christian Brother asked me if I’d do some dancing so I did. When I got back to my seat I turned around and there was two nuns I remembered from Kilkenny coming towards me. My first reaction was "what the hell have I done now?" They came over and just asked me how I was. They were a bit disappointed that I danced and didn’t sing and that was all. I was glad that was all was the problem.

When he saw the nuns coming towards him, he assumed he was going to be punished for something.

The fact that the complainants had all been in St Patrick’s as very young children meant that, although they had specific memories, they did not recall general conditions in the School. From the documentation, St Patrick’s appeared to be a well-run institution.

In the first record of a General Inspection, dated 22nd April 1939, Dr Anna McCabe visited the School and found the children well cared for and well looked after. There was plenty of good quality food and the children were well clothed.

In September 1940, the Bishop of Ossory, Bishop Patrick Collier, wrote to the Kilkenny Journal in support of an appeal by the Sisters for charitable funding from the people of the diocese. In that letter, he spelled out very clearly the high regard he had for the work of the Sisters: Without looking for a penny for themselves, these devoted Religious give their time and talents to their little Charges with a loving care surpassing that of natural parents. It is only just and right that their lives should be kept free from the nightmare of want, and the constant fight to pay their way.

The Bishop directed that his letter, together with a letter from the Reverend Mother, should be read at all masses. The Reverend Mother’s letter was also printed by the newspaper. She explained that St Patrick’s had 186 children aged between one and 10. Out of this, only 135 were in receipt of the full State grant of 12 shillings per week. Another 27 were aged between four and six, and were paid for at a rate of 10 shillings per week. In addition, the School had about 24 children under four years of age, for whom the Government did not pay any grant: These we admit when our room allows, to save them from destitution and the dangers of Proselytism.

The large number of additional children put a strain on the finances. Industrial schools were not intended for babies but this was a time of great poverty in Ireland and clearly the Sisters were faced with hard choices. The choices made impacted on the level of care available to the children who had been committed by the courts and in respect of whom funding was made available by the State. It was the children as well as the Sisters who made the sacrifices for the babies taken in by St Patrick’s.

The next record of a General Inspection was on 10th December 1943, over four years later. Although it referred to a previous inspection dated 29th November 1942, no record of Dr McCabe’s findings in 1942 have survived. She described the School as well conducted, clean and the children well cared for. Her next inspection was dated 5th July 1944, and she requested that the supply of milk to each child be increased to one pint per head per day, and butter to be increased to 6 ozs. She was concerned about the lack of an external fire escape.8 She also drew attention to the fact that the children were barefoot in the playground.