I suppose every little boy is attracted to things large and red and shiny, like fire engines. But I doubt that my seven year old son Jonathan had ever seen anything as large and red and shiny as the buoy displayed on the green beside the Irish Lights building during the Dun Laoghaire Festival of 1977.

In bright July sunshine we had watched a thrilling demonstration of air/sea rescue manoeuvres in Dun Laoghaire harbour; boarded the German missile corvette Triton, where Jonathan was encouraged by the naval officers to try out all the levers and dials on the bridge; visited the model railway exhibition in the Town Hall; and generally had a day to delight the child in all of us, which of course included a visit to Teddy's ice cream kiosk. So, as we passed the big red buoy on our way home we were unprepared for the determined bee-line that Jonathan made to get up close to this exciting new object that towered above him.

He insisted on having his photo taken in front of it, and could not be lured away until we promised to come back and visit it again. And again!
Ann Serff

I am always glad to receive Beam. The cover of the last edition reminded me of an incident two years ago. My wife and I went B&B to the west of Ireland. One B&B we booked into was called Lighthouse View. As we drove up to the front door I searched for a view of a lighthouse. There was absolutely no sign of a lighthouse but in the middle of the front lawn was a lighthouse, white, three feet high, with two red bands. The more I looked at this the more my blood began to boil. The pressure was going up fast; we were being duped by the house name - the cheek! I couldn't believe it.

Later on that night just after dusk I ventured outside to the front garden and sat on a bench. When my eye caught the flash of Slyne Head my anxiety subsided. I said to my wife 'come out and have a look'. Yes, there it was again. Luckily we hadn't challenged the woman of the house earlier, or it would have been a case of 'open mouth, insert foot'. Slyne Head was not very visible from our vantage point in daylight, if at all, but all ended well. Great photo on the magazine cover!
I think my grandfather may have been stationed there. He was H.R. Ryan. His son (my uncle) was F.S. Ryan who was also in the Lights. There were so many Frank Ryan's that he became known as Fog Signal Ryan because of his initials.

Why I never became a Lighthouse Keeper I'll never know, but I may as well have been. Grand-uncles and cousins on my mother's side (she was born at Inishowen) were all in the Service. I grew up on a diet of lighthouses, fog horns, candlepower, semaphore, reliefs, and all that goes with them.

I believe that as the Ryan's moved around the coast their cousins, the Loughrey's, followed them to each station. I wonder were the Ryan's suffering from neck cramp from looking over their shoulder?

My mother once told me the following story. When her father was on the Maidens - I think it was the Maidens, not a hundred per cent sure but I know it was a rock station - there was a staircase to the lantern, part wrought iron, part wooden. On one of the wooden steps something was spilt which when dried out left a very bright, almost white, stain which he couldn't tone down to match. It was the size of your hand - furthermore the Commissioners were on tour. Things were getting frantic. My grandfather could see his job going out the proverbial window and his pension as well.

My grandmother became aware of the predicament and issued the following order, being the resourceful lady she was. Make some tea, soak a cloth in it and rub it on gently over a few hours. Bingo! It worked. Result, relief all round. The Commissioners never noticed.

Stories? My mother, her two sisters, and two of her brothers rowed to school in Killybegs from Rotten Island. One sister went overboard and was saved by an oar - she couldn't swim.

One other thing: one mile north of Balbriggan Lighthouse lie Cardy Rocks, three or four hundred yards straight out from Newhaven Point. On these rocks there is a perch. A local guy called Pad used to row out there once a year at low water to paint it. One summer's day Pad was painting away using a ladder with the yawl tied to the perch. The chaplain of Gormanston Army Camp, who was walking on the shore, seeing Pad's hand painting up and down, thought Pad was in distress and rang 999. Very soon Pad was surrounded by a flotilla of small boats including Clogherhead Lifeboat, and wondered what the hell was going on until all was revealed.

When he arrived back in Balbriggan he kept telling everyone he never had so many admirers in his life!

Richard A. Gaynor,

Thank you very much for the magazines, calendar, and all the information which you sent to me for my school project on Irish Lighthouses. It was great fun to do and I learned a lot. All projects for my age had to be handwritten and all pictures had to be either drawn or traced. We were not allowed to print stuff from the Internet so it was hard work and took a long time. I also visited some lighthouses with my family.

Prizegiving night was at the end of April. I won first prize in my class and the perpetual trophy for handwriting in 2nd, 3rd and 4th classes.
Here is a photo of the project, the trophies, and myself.

Eoghan Browne

I have, with great pleasure, read the articles by Jack Higginbotham and Eddie Cantwell. I would now like to make my contribution to the family history.

The photographs in your 2006-07 issue show William and Mary. William was my great grandfather. His son John was my grandfather. My mother was a daughter of John. Her name was Isabella. John's son, Jack, was also in the Lighthouse Service. Jack's son, Ian, was a Lighthouse Keeper and later transferred to the Lightships.

I had the pleasure, while on my way to the Tuskar in 1952, of calling on Patrick and his wife, then living in Wexford. His wife was almost totally blind. She asked me to move closer to her so that she might feel my face. I did so and she immediately said 'Oh you are so like your mother'. Pat was quite old at that time; in fact he was aged 84, and was 'spik and span', or 'shipshape and Bristol fashion', as we used to say.

My grandfather's daughter, Lily, married a James O'Connor who worked in the Lighthouse Depot prior to joining the lighthouses. James, who was from Dun Laoghaire, had a brother who was a shipwright in the Depot in the late 1800s or early 1900s. James and Lily's son, Peter, also served in the lighthouses and retired in 1967.

The enclosed photograph, taken in 1898, shows my grandfather, John, his wife who was Anne Ahern of Monkstown, Co. Dublin, and their son Bill.

Patrick's son, Bobby, was born on Inisheer. I was the last Keeper to leave Inisheer when it became automatic.

Bill Scanlan
Lightkeeper, retired

Years ago I lived with my parents at the East Pier Lighthouse, Dun Laoghaire, where my father was Principal Keeper. One day as I walked along the pier with my father, when passing a set of granite steps leading to the top tier he pointed out a small white cross. It looked as if it had come from a rosary and someone had cemented it into the wall. I cannot remember the story he might have told me about it. I think I might have been about eight years old at the time.

Many years later I looked for it again and eventually found it. The cross is still there to this day. I see it every time I walk down the pier.

I would like to know the full story of this cross, so if any of your readers can shed any light on it they might reply in the next issue of Beam.

There is now a small metal cross cemented into the West Pier as well. I put it there with my two eight-year-old twin grandsons, Conor and Cian, one bright Saturday morning this year.

I wonder how long it will be there and how many people will look at it over future years.

Thomas Murphy Attendant, Kish Lighthouse