Pretty sure in 1957 the steps were still gated. They led down to the docks then (I think they only filled them in in the 70s), and the steps were private afaik (seem to think they belonged to the railway. I have read somewhere there was a guard at the top too.
Just looked it up and saw that the overhead station Heraculeum dock closed on 30 December 1956, and was finally demolished in 1958. Wonder if that was a reason for your visit down there as a small boy?
(The station wasn't by the steps btw, for those that are getting confused. The steps are right at the end of Grafton St and sit next to some bedrock. The station was a bit further along and could be reached by an iron bridge from where the Heraculeum pub still is. The stone pillars that were next to the bridge are still there, as is of course the tunnel entrance where the overhead became an underground railway to reach Dingle station.)
Without wishing to derail the thread my memories of what was probably the Herculaneum Steps I have much more vivid and accurate memories I'd cutting my forehead open.
I was about five and bored. I was swivelling the foot of a large household broom with my own foot. My Dad warned me that, if I wasn't careful it would smack me in the face. I carried on and the inevitable happened leaving me with a gash in my forehead.
My head was wrapped in a tea towel and off we walked down to the old Royal Southern, somewhere around Grafton St. On the way a couple of blokes outside one of the pubs asked what happened and when they were told simply said 'He won't do that again in a hurry' My Dad agreed with them. Compassion was in short supply in the 1950s.
Six painful stitches later, returned home and then a telling off from my Mum for ruining a tea towel.