John's eve, were blazing on the mountains.
But the trader took another friend of his aside. This time it was the
village priest. Bad dances, he said, were going on of nights in Templecrone
hall. What was Paddy's surprise on a Sunday in the windswept chapel by the
sea to hear his beloved hall denounced as a place of sin. Paddy knew the
people would not come any more.
Then, the great inspiration. Paddy remembered how his mother used to try to
help with her knitting. He saw girls at spinning wheels or looms working
full eight hours a day and earning only $1.25 to $1.50 a week. So with
permission of the society, Paddy had two long tables placed in the
entertainment hall, and along the edges of the tables he had the latest
type of knitting machines screwed. Soon there were about 300 girls working
on a seven and a half hour day. They were paid by the piece, and it was not
long before they were getting wages that ran from $17.50 to $5.25 a week.
Incidentally, Mr. Gallagher, as manager, gave himself only $10.00 a week.
When I saw Patrick Gallagher in Dungloe, he was dressed in a blue suit and
a soft gray cap, and looked not unlike the keen sort of business men one
sees on an ocean liner. And indeed he gave the impression that if he had
not been a co-operationist for Ireland, he might well have been a
capitalist in America.
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