�Born into a Newry family in 1931, he understood the meaning of hard times, yet Tommy inherited a strong sense of pride in his hometown and its people. He stayed close to the class he sought to represent. As a young man, Tommy McGrath became a socialist, and while some misunderstood him, his commitment never faltered. His work on behalf of weak and oppressed became the path to which he would keep for over 30 years.

�Earning a living as a monumental sculptor, he knew the value of a good education, was an assiduous reader, and undertook self-education courses. Shaping granite was not only his type of work, as he also saw the need to shape the society in which he lived.

�Joining the Newry and district Trades Council, Tommy dedicated his life to championing the cause of workers� rights, and was not afraid to hold unpopular opinions, knowing that in time the rightness of his position would be vindicated by events. Joining the Irish Labour Party in 1951, he became secretary of the Newry branch in 1960, and a member of Newry Urban Council in 1967.�

Tom Kelly pointed out that �throughout his life, Tommy McGrath was committed to the position that Irish re-unification could only be achieved by peaceful means.

After local government re-organisation in 1973, he became part of the newly-formed SDLP, contesting four elections successfully. As a councillor, he became renowned for his tenacity in the struggle to improve the conditions of life for those who were less well-off.

�Tommy�s concern was for well-being of the whole community; and he served it well through the Citizens Advice Bureau, as well as the Community Services Council. For over 20 years, he campaigned for the case of people against the system, through the Tribunals and appeals system. Those of us who had to follow him, realised what standards he had set, as many have faltered along a smoother road.

�In later years, Tommy�s great labour of love was his book, `Newry by Gaslight.` But all his life, in many homes throughout the frontier town, Tommy had lit a different kind of light, - the light of hope and consolation; his pursuit of justice and fair play for all. He was given the virtue of being able to treat all people as equals. I hope that we who carry his torch are as worthy,� concluded Tom Kelly.

Meanwhile, memories of boyhood days in the Meadow estate have been recalled by various residents, some of whom have moved to other parts of Newry. One recollection was of `wars between Derrybeg Drive and the bungalows.` Gangs would line up on either side of the present Jennings Park, �clodding stones to our heart�s content. No one seemed to get hurt.

�But then, of course, we didn�t uproot trees, smash bottles across the roads, daub paint on the walls of shops, send boulders for trips through glass-panelled telephone kiosks, or frighten old ladies, living on their own. We hadn�t been inspired by paramilitary-style idealism; and there were too many wise people about, who would have kicked us all the way home.

�On Sunday afternoons, we would play football on the green between Slieve Gullion Road and Iveagh Crescent, then headed home, sweating and longing for a drink of cold water. But there were worries about Latin at the Abbey School next day, and the fearsome `Doc`, - a Christian Brother, who believed that God had given him hands for the sole purpose of beating hell out of little boys.

�The Rocks were used to play Cowboys and Indians, and we searched the other side of the railway for tadpoles. Also, pennies were put on the tracks, while we watched them flattened as the train passed by. A noise came down the line, and the odd-shaped little tram went on its journey to Goraghwood. And the trains gave us grease for our football boots.

�We camped on summer evenings; and when girls came on holidays from Belfast, at the age of 12 we fell in love. We had our photograph taken with the cup, won by Pat McElroy and his team. `Sandy�s field� was a great place for walks, and in the summer we dammed the river to make a swimming hole.�

Another person, who recalled playing in `Sandy�s field,` was internet historian, John McCullagh, who described how the renowned farmer, Sandy McNeill, would invite youngsters into his milking-shed at the rear of Helen�s Terrace. John had �difficulty reconciling the all-pervading animal stench with food hygiene.

�Sandy�s huge sloping field, running down to Orior Road, was a godsend in the winter snow. Cardboard boxes were our sleighs, and the wires stretching between the posts saved us from many a fall. A short loanen divides Orior Road and Slieve Gullion Road, - a place to hide, to `coort` or access those exciting back-gardens. There were no cars with headlights to pick us out, and cyclists knew better than to venture there after dark.�

Referring to the fact that residents had �little call to leave the Meadow for the essential foodstuffs� in those early days, John McCullagh pointed out that there had been Brian Donaghy�s and Crawley�s shops on Clanrye Avenue, and `the Hut` at Helen�s Terrace, as well as plenty of vans calling regularly. The earliest shop was a hut, located near entrance to the present St Brigid�s Church.

Van salesmen included grocers, Michael Fearon from Meigh, and Joe Shields, who was succeeded by his son; also bread-roundsman Michael Campbell and later Hugh John McConville. Herring-men from Omeath would come around every Friday on their horses and carts, shouting `Harns Alive.` Housewives would come out with their plates, or be given the silver-gleaming fish, wrapped in newspaper.

Those days of innocence and simplicity are long gone. And it is not just in the `Meadow` that life has become more complex. Technology may have simplified many household tasks, but the pressures of modern life have made many yearn for the days of `real neighbours`, and children who were safe on the streets.

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