Bryan Gallagher remembers his youth when he went boot-to-boot with the ballroom mafia...
FOR SALE....BOOTS
7 rows of good Irish Hobs
Toe Plates, Heel Tips, toe caps 31 shillings and 6 pence
Boots. Light for Sunday wear
Sparabled for fair and market
Nailed for the land
In the 50s you would still see advertisements such as this, for hob-nailed boots.
But they were reaching the end of their shelf life, and for good wear we bright young fellows wore what we called ‘low shoes’. It was thus shod, that I attended my first ever dance in the Rainbow Ballroom, Glenfarne, Co. Leitrim also called The Ballroom of Romance.
It was clear and frosty when we parked a hundred yards from the hall and as we climbed stiffly out we could hear the MC announcing the dances.
A group of young lads arrived on bicycles and flung them into the hedge and we all started to run towards the hall, the cyclists with the hoppity genuflecting gait that results when you are trying to run and take out your bicycle clips at the same time!
And when we finally got into the hall what did we do? We stood in lines and looked across at the girls and they stood in lines and looked back at us.
Suddenly as if by signal there was a charge by the men. It took me completely by surprise. I was swept across the floor and ended up behind the line of girls looking back out.
My next attempt to ask a girl to dance ended when a male arm reached across me and grabbed the girl of my choice by the shoulder and pulled her on to the dance floor. But eventually I got the hang of it.
There were three big raw-boned fellows in the hall. Somebody said that they came from a mountainy far-back part of the country. They stood in a group close together. Their collars were open at the neck. They smoked cigarettes in cupped hands. They talked to each other out of the side of their mouths and to our amusement they wore hob-nailed boots.
About the middle of the night’s dancing, one of them came over to me.
How’re you goin’ on? He said.
OK, I said.
Do you see that girl that you were dancin’ with? He said.
Yes, I said.
Well my brother, that’s the big red-haired fellow over there smokin’ the cigarette, was dancin’ with her earlier.
But ...., I began.
He’ll be dancin’ her again, do you understand.
And he walked away.
When he had gone a few steps, he stopped, turned round, looked me in the eyes, nodded meaningfully and said,
Ye Boy ye.
Don Corleone couldn’t have done it better. I was never as terrified in my life.
I would love to say that I went ahead and danced the girl anyway, but I learned one thing that night. When it comes to emotions, fear is stronger than desire.
And a Don Corleone in hob-nailed boots quickly puts ideas of romance out of your head!
