Throwback Thursday: When Roche saw his store go up in smoke

Tomorrow night, May 23, a great gathering of former Roches Stores employees takes place up in the Sky Garden of Clancy’s Bar on Princes Street, from 7.30pm onwards.

Brian Cronin has kindly shared with us his copy of The Story Of Roches Stores, compiled by James N. Healy back in 1981, from the original notes made by its founder, William Roche in 1933, with added contributions from Patrick Fitzgerald and A. J. Walsh who worked with him. Thanks, Brian!

Born into a farming family at Killavullen in the early years of the 20th century, William was put to serve his time in the drapery trade in Cork.

“Tyranny of a heartless type was now my lot for four or five years,” recalled William. “Those were bad, cruel days in the drapery trade and may they never return.

“A good many apprentices died off because of the want of fresh air and cleanliness, and those of us who survived are glad to see ‘living-in’ banished from the trade.

“How to get out of the cramping atmosphere of those days was always with me.”

Inevitably, Roche took the emigrant route like so many of his comrades.

“Then the wide world of London. Tramping the streets from morning till night. No jobs to be got, money growing less and less.

“Finally, a job offer in the East-end at £40 per annum, 7.30am to 9.30 every day and 11 o’clock Saturday night. Fortunately, something a little better turned up which I worked at for four years, managing to save £225, which became my starting basis.

The young Roche yearned to be his own boss.

“Back home again, I deliberately decided to go in business on my own and prepared to sacrifice everything to make it a success.

“Necessarily, the start had to be very modest, and household furniture was the first section I tackled. This end of the trade I was well acquainted with, and for a year I struggled along in a side street in Cork (Fish Street, later Merchant Street), giving value which, up to then, could not be obtained.

“Soon I decided to add another store, with a friend, Mr James Keating. He brought in about £150 new capital which was very badly needed.

“We worked might and main at the job, putting in from 14 to 15 hours a day, no half holidays and no evenings. We hardly ever saw daylight during the following 12 years. We sold for cash and gradually, very gradually, our capital grew a little bigger.

“For those 12 years, we never drew a penny out of the business, only enough for our bare necessities, and, being very frugal and bachelors, the drawings did not amount to much.

“The business then was everything, we only thought how we should make it a success.”

Roche had a plan on how to succeed in business, which he stuck to.

“Our predominant thought was how could we give the customer more for his money. We marked everything in plain figures (which was new in those days), and we told the customers the truth only.

“As time went on, we got several young chaps into the business to help, and these boys and men worked at all hours with only the small reward that the business could give.

“We had a spirit of equality and comradeship among the whole band, which was very pleasant, and all entered into the spirit of the thing with right goodwill.

“I am happy to say that most of this same band are working with us as loyally today (1933), and I am hoping we shall spend the remainder of our time together.”

Patrick Fitzgerald, who ed that band in 1910, contributes a nice detail here on the very limited space available: “In the very early days, the reserve stock was carried on the rafters of No.22, Merchant Street. A series of iron bars let down from the rafters carried horizontal bars on which the stock was carried. Lighting was entirely by gas and the naked flame was kept turned down to the minimum except when customers were about; immediately the customer left, the gas was again turned down.”

When William decided to try the ladies’ fashion trade in Merchant Street, the idea was considered madness, but he persevered.

“We created fashion showrooms that looked both bright and tasteful and served the purpose irably,” noted Fitzgerald. “And the name Roches Stores appeared for the first time.”

Here is another fascinating detail: “Retailers of women’s fashion wear were steeped in the tradition that a big profit was part and parcel of the job. Our woman manageress and her assistants, notwithstanding the firm’s explicit instructions, would surreptitiously and, as often as they could manage, charge the customer more than the price we wished.

“It took us years to break their ingrained habit of having an ‘extra bit’ off the customer.”

By the spring of 1919, Roches had taken a property on Winthrop Street, right next door to Cash’s, and planned a huge Transfer Sale.

So frantic were they in getting the new premises ready that they had no time left to decorate the windows. Mr Roche solved the problem by ordering a full-sized poster which read: ‘Too busy to dress windows, come inside.’

Which customers did, in their droves.

It was around this time that Thomas Quillinan, Brian Cronin’s grandfather, mentioned in previous Throwback Thursdays, was appointed as purchase manager.

Later, when Roches had moved to its central Patrick Street location, taking over the former London House, the Winthrop Street premises became the legendary Lee Cinema.

All seemed set fair, but there was trouble ahead, as A. J. Walsh, now company secretary, recorded in The Story Of Roches Stores, “From June, 1919, to December 11, 1920, our work ran along automatically, enlivened by the general turmoil which prevailed in Ireland at that time, and which had its storm centre in Cork.

“On one occasion, a bomb was thrown in the street, just outside our premises, and metal fragments of the bomb came hurtling through the door, into the warehouse, but fortunately no-one was injured.

“The constant worry of carrying on business in the midst of the troubled conditions which then prevailed had to be taken as a matter of course.

“The curfews, raids, shootings, ambushes, bomb-throwing, searches, etc, which were a usual routine of those times did not conduce to the orderly building up of a business.

“Reports then began to circulate that one side of the conflicting forces had grown impatient with the methods of petty warfare adopted by their opponents, and intended teaching them a lesson by burning down the principal business warehouses in Patrick Street, including Roches Stores.”

William Roche takes up the story of that infamous night in December, 1920.

“The tension which had been gathering in Cork and districts for those 18 months came to a climax on the Saturday night of December 11, 1920, when a big block of the business centre of the city was burned down.

“I locked up the premises at about 8 o’clock and got home just as the trouble had started to develop.

“A friend cycled to my house at about 8 o’clock on the Sunday morning to tell me that Cork was burned out, and that our premises had gone up with the rest.

“I dressed at once and went into the city. It was a really beautiful, still frosty morning. Every place on the way into town was strangely quiet, not a soul along the road, no traffic of any kind.

“When I came to the Free Library which, although small was a very handsome Tudor- gabled building, I had the feeling of one in a dream. It was burning peacefully, and one could say, beautifully. The flames were leaping upwards gracefully, making only a slight crackling noise occasionally. It was as if a child had set a toy house on fire to see how it would look.

“I tried to realise that I was looking at the destruction of a beautiful building, but could not conceive that what I saw was reality.”

William continued: “Two R.I.C. men were chatting unconcernedly nearby. One asked where I was going. I said, ‘My name is Roche of Roches Stores. I understand our place is on fire and I am going into town to see what I can do’.

“The same man, who was fully armed, thought for a moment, then gave me a gentle, not unfriendly push and said, ‘Go on’. It looked to me as if, although not drunk, they had had a few drinks.

“I kept on and when I got to the burning area it did look weird. Parnell Place, a wide street, was quite intact, but when I looked up Maylor Street, the strange gap which the destruction of a big slice of Patrick Street made, looked very startling. The tall buildings which had been brought down let in so much light.

“I turned up a side street to our own building and found it was well alight and partly burned out. There were a few lookers-on, and very soon some of our own people arrived and started to salvage what they could.

“This was being done quietly and some strangers ed in the work, which was risky, as walls were suddenly falling in many places. We managed, however, to save all our leases and valuable documents.

“There were no fire engines or fire brigades available, but after half an hour or so, two military motor lorries dashed into Patrick Street from the King Street side, and turned quickly round at Winthrop Street. Everyone ran for shelter. Most had time to go into side streets, but myself and a few others just had to stand against a shop window.

“The military fired a volley, I presume over our heads, but a few bullets shattered the window glass where I was standing. They then went off at a good speed and we were greatly relieved to see them go.

“Our difficulty now was to protect the salvaged goods from looters as, of course, there was only a minimum of police protection.

“That night, we put a few men in some secondary premises, but they were overpowered during the night and looters took a quantity of goods.

“A few of us traders went to the military for protection against these looters; the officer promised most kindly to do what he could in the circumstances, and it must have been effectual as we had no more trouble on this head.”

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