100 YEARS OF CHILD’S PLAY
Connolly Brothers store in Cavan is celebrating a centenary for a family business that has survived a world war, four recessions and a global pandemic
PEOPLE CAME FROM FAR AND WIDE TO SEE OUR FREE SANTY, IT WAS MOBBED
IT’S not often we get good news in retail these days, as we have become all too accustomed to news of stores shutting up shop.
Post-pandemic, the effect on retail has been brutal — Argos is closing its doors next weekend after 27 years in the Irish market, and Gamestop is following suit, with all locations to be shuttered by the end of June.
Before them, we waved goodbye to a swathe of large retail chains, such as Debenhams, Topshop, Oasis, Warehouse, Ann Summers and Gap, with many others minimising their operations.
Obviously, the current conditions are not just adversely affecting the big guns. Figures from Kroll, a risk and financial advisory solutions company, recently revealed that almost 70% of small business owners are concerned about their fate this year, with inflation, the energy crisis and staffing issues putting their future in jeopardy.
In such a climate, the idea that a small, Irish family-owned store is celebrating its centenary this month sounds almost mythical — but Connolly Brothers shop in Cavan is doing just that. The third-generation souvenir and toy store has withstood a world war and its aftermath, four recessions, a global pandemic and is still going strong.
This week, the store’s owners, Paul Connolly and his wife Fiona, have been celebrating its 100th birthday with special events, giveaways and exhibitions.
Indeed, looking at Connolly Brothers’ window display today, you’d be forgiven for thinking that you’ve stepped right back to 1920s Ireland, with memorabilia and traditional items of the time adorned with pride.
The Connollys have every reason to be proud. Surely there has to be something very special happening in this store, now an institution of Cavan town, I suggest to Paul, who took over the running of the store from his father Joe in 2006.
Joe had in turn taken over the reins from his father Patrick, who set up shop with his wife Mary in a very different Ireland, in the aftermath of the Civil War.
An inventory of that store’s stock still exists today, and gives some fascinating insight as to how people lived at the time.
‘Let’s see, they sold bicycles, bicycle wheels — bicycles were the main mode of transport here,’ says Paul. ‘Then they sold perambulators — in other words, prams — I had to look that one up,’ he laughs. ‘Household hardware, furniture, pure bedding, go karts, linoleum, glass, china and earthenware. In other words, totally different to what we are selling now.’
History breathes through the walls of the store, which has borne witness to the culture and hardships of our country, from the Emergency in the late 1930s to continued rationing in the early 1950s. This latter decade was a particularly hard one in relation to the store’s survival.
‘Obviously a lot of people emigrated after the war and Cavan was all but abandoned,’ says Paul. ‘Their slates [tabs] of rationed items remained — and they were never recuperated. It took its toll.’
In the late 1950s, Patrick and Mary sold their family house and made their home upstairs over the store. The family had another store in Dublin’s Abbey Street which stocked coal and this was also sold in a bid to keep the Cavan property.
Joe, Patrick’s son and Paul’s dad, took over the running of the Cavan store following his father’s death in 1964. alongside his wife Frances. Joe and his brother Brian ran the store together for three years, even though at that point there was very little on the shelves.
‘They got it up off the ground again, but Brian died in 1966,’ reveals Paul. ‘My granny Mary was always about helping out, so they managed it together.’
Paul was born in 1968, and has fond childhood memories of the family shop, mostly thanks to Mary and her homemade treats.
‘She always made cones out of newspapers and filled them with sweets for us,’ he recalls fondly. ‘Then when it came to our teenage years, myself and my brother Stephen — who lives in the States but is back for the celebrations — used to help out.’ The store bucked many a retail trend in the area through the decades. Newspaper cuttings show it advertised as a ‘walkaround store’ in the 1960s, reflecting the changing ways that consumers shopped. Over the years, toys were stocked, and the Connollys set up a Christmas club initiative for their loyal customers, enabling them to put money away for their children’s toys and presents on a weekly basis, in order to collect the gifts before the big day.
‘It was the opposite of how it’s done now — people would chip away at the cost of the product and then take it away,’ muses Paul. ‘Then in 1979 we had Santy,’ he smiles.
Having the man in red in-store was a momentous occasion for the people of Cavan — a completely new experience for the town.
‘Not only was it Santy, but it was a free Santy,’ says Paul. ‘We had to close the store for retail purposes that day, such was the demand. People were coming from far and wide and the place was mobbed. ‘It was the only year it was done and it just got out of hand!’ he laughs.
Santa — aka Joe — hung up his red hat after the chaos, alongside another family member, who is remaining anonymous, who had donned a Monchhichi outfit — a popular Japanese monkey toy of the time — to delight the kids. Thankfully though, the Connollys haven’t lost their sense of merrymaking and still don a costume from time to time — Paul’s wife Fiona is known to dress up as the Easter Bunny and even Mrs Elf, when such occasions arise.
‘I transform into a Storm Trooper, Iron Man and Mister Blobby,’ says the metamorphic Paul. ‘We just like putting smiles on people’s faces and we dress up when the Christmas lights are turned on in the town. But sure I might even throw on a costume this week, given the partying.’
It’s not all been fun and games, however. Back in 1986, when Paul was doing his Leaving Cert and the country was in the throes of a deep recession, his dad Joe had a very important decision to make to keep the family business afloat. ‘He
actually went completely against the grain — when everyone else was closing, he opened another store in Longford,’ says Paul. ‘The way he looked at it, he had all the stock bought in. The risk paid off — the new store helped us with turnaround and cleared the stock and paid the bills, ready for the following year.’
Covid was the other major stumbling block for the store — in fact, says Fiona, who has been patiently waiting to have a word — ‘it completely kicked our ass. We had to go online and we really didn’t want to, I’ll be honest,’ she says. ‘We always wanted to keep that personal connection and to get people into rural Ireland, but we had no choice.’
They sat at their kitchen table and spent three days setting up their website, forgetmenotgifts.ie, and even embracing social media.
‘It worked, we kept things rolling over and the thing is, it actually helped us stay connected — people came to the store afterwards and told us that that we kept smiles on their faces with our updates,’ she shrugs. ‘Then we were getting orders from places like the Aran Islands, which we were thrilled by.
‘It was actually a bit of rejuvenation for us to be honest. It gave us a pep in our step. We had no benchmark, it was uncharted territory and we just went for it. We never thought we’d get to the 100-year mark, yet here we are.’
Today, the store specialises in toys — sensory, wooden and handcrafted, ‘not the big ones in Smyths’ — religious memorials, and artisan and local food products like chocolate, jam and honey. It’s obvious this couple have a passion for what they do, and that care goes into their shelves, I suggest.
‘We have expanded our baby range and early learning toys which have done really well,’ says Fiona, who shares three grown up children with Paul.
‘We don’t sell technology in any form to be honest, [just items that] have some sort of timeless, sentimental value. There’s a lot to be said for toys that let kids use their own imagination.
‘I have a grandmother who is coming to our family fun day today and she is bringing her two grandkids purely because she wants them to have a memory of being in a traditional toy shop, which I think is just precious.’
When it comes to the secret of longevity, Fiona feels it’s the personal touch that has made Connolly Brothers the store it is today.
‘Empathy for your customers is huge,’ she says. ‘You have to try to make someone smile. Now you mightn’t always succeed, but the reality is your kind words might be the only nice thing that happens to a person on a given day.’
This week as the store showcases art, crafts and food from the locality and beyond, it is introducing both the past and present Connollys to a new generation.
‘We want to show that we are not just 100 years old, but we are just as good as other stores with a personal touch,’ she says.
‘We are hosting artists and giving new producers a chance to shine and we think, why not? Let’s take a chance here.’
The duo however have to be realistic — and being in business these days is expensive. They survive by being thrifty.
‘There’s only two of us and we run a tight ship,’ she says. ‘We do a lot of the DIY work ourselves, we’ve changed the lighting to LED, we are actually doing a local enterprise office course on sustainability, we take recycled bags... it’s about being mindful. Years ago we’d say thrifty, now it’s sustainability. Paul is great as our uncertified accountant, keeping an eye on the pennies and pounds.’
When it comes to advice for other small businesses, Fiona is resolute on one thing — and that’s taking a risk.
‘As long as you have fire in your belly, go for it,’ she says.
Carrying on the family business to the next generation however could prove a problem.
The couple’s three grown-up children are pursuing their own, very different careers.
‘We are very happy that they are very happy with their choices,’ says Fiona. ‘That’s another reason why some small families don’t survive long term, because the kids are brought in don’t want to be there.
‘But we are privileged and humbled to have reached this point, and sure, you never know...’
WE ARE PRIVILEGED AND HUMBLED TO HAVE REACHED THIS POINT