WHILST THE name Tommy Noyek will not be familiar to many people, the Doll's Hospital in Dublin's Mary Street certainly will be. Tommy was born in Dublin in 1905, in the heart of "little Jerusalem". His mother was also Dublin born and his father was an immigrant from Lithuania. In his youth he was a keen sportsman, playing both soccer and cricket with the old Carlisle Sports Club which was the predecessor of Dublin Macabbi. His interest in sport never waned, and just before he died he talked to me of his delight at Michelle Smith winning Olympic gold medals.
His early schooling at St Catherine's in Donore Avenue and St Peter's in Heytesbury Street, fondly known as "Old Joe's", resulted in his winning a scholarship to Wesley College. He took the exam for Arthur Guinness, which he passed with flying colours, and went to work in their laboratory, eventually becoming their quality controller. As Tommy, was a lifelong teetotaller, some of his friends thought this to be rather strange.
He left Guinness's and emigrated to London, where he met and married his wife, Freda. They returned to Dublin in 1938 and opened their Doll's Hospital in Mary Street. He was good at fixing things, and Freda wad a magician with a needle and thread; most importantly, they loved children.
Very quickly it became a well known institution and many people to this day remember it with nostalgic fondness. Freda, who was a very important part of the "hospital", always wore a white nurse's uniform with a matron's badge. There was always a strong smell of disinfectant and many of the young customers had no doubt that this was indeed a hospital. It was very obvious that the pace of this new business suited the gentleness which these two unique people exuded.
A friend recalled being there, when a tearful little girl took her broken doll, apparently damaged beyond repair, into the "hospital" and anxiously passed it to Tommy. He examined it carefully and then, with his lovely smile, gently explained that he would get the best doctors and nurses to attend to her doll and that he had no doubt that she would be as good as new at the end of the week. The look of joy on the face of the girl was wonderful to see, and I'm quite sure that this type of episode was repeated time and time again. I don't think I exaggerate when I say that the Doll's Hospital is another part of bygone Dublin fondly remembered and sadly missed by so many. It closed in 1977, after almost 40 years.
They eventually entered the Jewish Home of Ireland, where Freda predeceased him in 1990. Tommy was a much loved resident of the home. He was quiet and modest, and right up, to the end had, a delightful smile that made his whole face Ii ht up. He died very peacefully, having gone up to his room to take a little nap before lunch. He is survived by his daughter Debbie and son David, to whom we send out heartfelt sympathy.