The first award  of the medal was made in 1966 to the Hon. James Farley, former Postmaster General under Franklin D. Roosevelt.  Farley, the grandson of Irish immigrants, managed FDR’s presidential campaigns in 1932 and 1936 and was an influential member of the New Deal “Brain Trust”.  The University of Notre Dame awarded Farley its highest award, the Laetare Medal, in 1974.  A member of AOH Division 29, New York, James Farley died in 1976.

Historians and Hollywood producers alike have held up the story of Union Major General Winfield Scott Hancock and Confederate Brigadier General Lewis Armistead to illustrate the tragedy of internecine warfare. Hancock and Armistead had developed a friendship when stationed together in California before the war, with Armistead famously sending Mrs. Hancock the Armistead family bible for safekeeping as he left to join the Confederate As dramatically depicted in on the big screen in 1993’s Gettysburg, Armistead, a Brigade Commander in Pickett’s Division, found himself facing the center of the Union line, under the command of his friend Hancock, on July 3, 1863. Armistead, by all accounts, gallantly led his Brigade in what we now know as Pickett’s Charge, falling mortally wounded as he crossed the stone wall near “the angle,” generally considered to be the “high water mark” of the Confederacy. Knowing that he was in the hands of his friend’s troops, Armistead asked in vain to be taken to General Hancock, who had been wounded himself in the day’s fighting. The two never reconnected, despite their close proximity on the battlefield, and Armistead subsequently succumbed to his wounds.

The Irish Civil War produced no shortage of such sadly severed friendships, as the IRA in 1922, like the United States Army in 1861, found itself separating into two opposing forces. The treaty had been approved in the Dáil Éireann by a vote of 64 to 57, in favor, but the sentiment in the ranks was decidedly anti-treaty. For some pro-treaty IRA members, it was their unshakeable belief in Michael Collins that informed their decision to support the treaty. If the “Big Fellow” said that the treaty was a “stepping stone” to the thirty-two-county Republic of 1916, then that was good enough. Other pro-treaty volunteers saw themselves, in the conventional sense, as soldiers serving the elected government of their country – if the Dáil had approved the treaty, they reasoned, by however slim a margin, they were bound to support their government’s position. Anti-treaty IRA members, to the contrary, saw the treaty as a betrayal of the thirty-two county Republic of 1916.

The transformation of the Volunteers/IRA into the “National Army” had been a point of contention in late 1921, even before the Dáil voted to ratify the Treaty on January 7, 1922. As a revolutionary force, the IRA had emerged from the Irish Volunteers, through the infiltration of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. The question of chain of command had been at times been a bit murky, as the Volunteers/IRA had an elected executive of their own, separate and apart from the Dáil. The so-called “New Army Plan” of 1921 sought to conform the IRA to a more conventional structure, with a Ministry of Defense, General Headquarters and the like. The Volunteer/IRA Executive The process of molding the IRA into a conventional military structure was underway, and not universally popular, when the Treaty was ratified.

Efforts were made, in the aftermath treaty ratification to keep the IRA together. An IRA convention, first agreed to but then banned by the Provisional (Free State) Government, was held on March 26, 1922. With pro-Treaty attendance having been discouraged, the already likely result became inevitable, as the delegates voted to reestablish the IRA Executive and reaffirmed allegiance to the thirty-two County Republic of 1916. Units around the country had to decide which side they were on, and there are many accounts of groups of Volunteers taking their leave of their comrades after finding themselves on the “wrong” side of the split. Pro-treaty IRA units, which became the nucleus of the new “National Army,” tragically found themselves engaged against anti-Treaty units, in spite of rank-and-file members on both sides sharing a common goal, differing only in their belief as to the best way of achieving that goal.

July of 1922, the first full month of the war, saw open conflict between pro and anti-Treaty units across the country, as each side sought to establish local strongholds. The month ended with the shooting by National Army troops of the unarmed Harry Boland, a widely popular figure in the Republican movement who had been at “out” at the GPO in 1916 and had subsequently risen to prominence in the War of Independence. Boland, who had been serving as the Quartermaster of the Dublin anti-Treaty IRA, would die on August 1, 1922, prompting Michael Collins to reflect with regret upon the death of his longtime friend and comrade turned adversary.

The morning’s carnage might well have proven counterproductive for the IRA, in terms of public opinion, at home and abroad, had British forces not responded by massacring civilians in the afternoon. Dublin and Tipperary were meeting in a football match at Croke Park to benefit the Republican Prisoners’ Dependents’ Fund. Shortly after the match began at 3:15 p.m., a plane, apparently conducting reconnaissance, flew over the pitch. Moments later, truckloads of Black and Tans, Auxiliaries and regular British troops surrounded the Park and burst through the turnstiles, opening fire on the crowd. Although nominally intended as a cordon and search mission – looking for IRA men in connection with the morning’s shootings – the massacre at Croke Park was in fact a shockingly lawless reprisal – the murder of innocence civilians by forces of the British state.

While efforts were made to suggest that the Tans and Auxiliaries had merely responded to IRA gunfire, the truth was plain to see. The afternoon massacre at Croke Park was a reprisal by Crown forces in Ireland, reeling from the IRA’s brutally successfully morning operation, against the citizens of Dublin. The profiles and ages of the victims, who are being remembered this week in GAA circles and across Ireland, show them to have been ordinary citizens. The youngest, ten year-old Jerome O’Leary, was shot through the head as he sat on a wall, watching the match. Eleven year-old William Robinson was similarly shot as he sat perched in a tree to see the action.

British Prime Minister Lloyd George had proclaimed, just two weeks prior, that the British had “murder by the throat” in Ireland. As the sun set on Ireland on Sunday November 21, it was far from clear just who the murderers where. By misusing its “monopoly on the physical use of force” the British government in Ireland had scored an “own goal,” suffering a corresponding loss to its claim of legitimacy, in the eyes of the Irish people and the world. Just as the hasty executions following the Easter Rising had galvanized Irish Nationalists, the shocking mass murder by Government forces of citizens out to watch a football match swelled the inexorable tide of independence rising in Ireland and influenced policy makers on both sides of the Irish Sea. Diplomatic contacts between Sinn Fein and the British government accelerated, ultimately leading to the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921.

Croke Park, already the center of traditional Irish sport, became a shrine to the innocent dead and a monument to Irish nationhood. And all of this happened one hundred years ago this week.

The country is again in the midst of a movement aimed at retiring team names and mascots deemed to be offensive. As with prior such movements, the “Fighting Irish” moniker and leprechaun mascot, with his classic “fisticuffs stance”, have entered the discussion. Those objecting to the nickname are presumably well-intentioned. But is “Fighting Irish” a slur? Or does the term have an origin of which the University, its students, alumni and the countless “subway alumni” can rightfully be proud?

Long before Notre Dame was established, the Irish soldier had a reputation for military prowess among the nations of Europe . The Treaty of Limerick in 1691 provided for the “Flight of the Wild Geese” in 1691 as Patrick Sarsfield and his Irish army of 14,000 joined Mountcashel’s Irish Brigade in the service of France . The Crowned heads of Europe (excluding England) enjoyed the service of generations of military leaders and intrepid Irish units who proved their worth time and time again. These Irish units in European service soon earned a reputation for their dependability and valor, leading continental armies to recruit in Ireland until the British made the practice illegal in 1745.

Irish emigration in the aftermath of the Great Hunger brought large numbers to our shores, just as the simmering conflict between the north and south was preparing to boil over. Anti-Catholic Nativists saw the Irish masses disembarking at American ports as a threat. Catholics, especially Irish Catholics, were considered to be dirty, immoral and “Un-American,” more loyal to Rome than Washington.

The Irish enlisted in the Union Army in great numbers and readers of this column are well aware of the gallant exploits of Irish Brigade. The penchant of the Brigade’s commanders for headlong charges and the willingness of the Irish troops soon caught the attention of other combatants, newspapers and the American people. The steady advance of the Brigade against murderous fire at Marye’s Heights on December 11, 1862 amazed the most battle-hardened observers. George Pickett famously wrote to his fiancé: “Your soldier’s heart almost stood still as he watched those sons of Erin fearlessly rush to their deaths. The brilliant assault on Marye’s Heights of their Irish Brigade was beyond description. We forgot they were fighting us and cheer after cheer at their fearlessness went up all along our lines.”

What does any of this have to do with Notre Dame? The exploits of Irish troops reported in the papers could not have been more different than Nativist depictions of the Irish. “Fighting Irish” referred not to drunken brawlers, but loyal American soldiers, the bravest of the brave. Notably, one of the Chaplains of the Brigade was Father William Corby, who later became the President of Notre Dame.

Of the competing genesis stories of the “Fighting Irish” name, the connection between the Brigade, Father Corby and Notre Dame perhaps rings most true. Unlike Indian names adopted by non-Native Americans, the name “Fighting Irish” was adopted by Notre Dame President, Mathew J. Walsh, C.S.C., son of an immigrant from County Cork, in 1927. As for the pugilistic leprechaun, the Irish had dominated the sport of boxing for decades. The stance of the leprechaun (search “John L. Sullivan” and look at the image) says it all – he is pure boxer, not barroom brawler. Certainly no one thinks that the “Fighting Illini” name of the occasional Notre Dame opponent is a slur. Come what may, it seems likely that the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame will continue to “ fight in every game, Strong of heart and true to her name.”

Born 4 March 1778, he was the 17^th child of Dr. Robert and Elizabeth Emmet. He enrolled as a Chemistry student in Trinity College, but was expelled for refusing to take an oath of allegiance to King George III. His older brother, Thomas Addis Emmet, was one of the ’98 leaders, jailed and exiled to America where he became New York State Attorney General and that’s another story. As for young Emmet, he was to organize military cooperation with the French when they landed. He confided in three surviving fighters of ’98 and was told that 19 counties stood ready to join him. One of those confidants, Bernard Duggan, was a castle spy who relayed the plans to the English. Receiving a report that Talleyrand was only using Ireland for his own political ends and there would be no French support, Emmet began to weigh his chances of success when the decision was made for him! On 16 July, an explosion in an apartment he was using as an arms depot destroyed most of his rocket stockpile. Convinced that his plans were near discovery and with assurances that if Dublin rose, the rest of Ireland would speedily follow. He moved the date of the rising up to 23 July, 217 years ago this month.

That day, as Emmet awaited his men to assemble, word reached him that soldiers were on their way to arrest him. Confident that the rest of Ireland would follow his lead, Emmet drew his sword and led a force of less than 100 dedicated men into the Saturday night streets of Dublin. Contradicting orders (authored by Duggan) left the revolution that Emmet had planned little more than a street riot that cost 30 lives. Emmet went on the run into the Wicklow Mountains, where he would be safe from Crown forces under the alias of Mr. Drake, as arrangements were being made for his passage to France. Meanwhile, English Major Henry Sirr, arrested Emmet’s young housekeeper, Anne Devlin who was brutally tortured in Kilmainham Jail, but never revealed his whereabouts. Her story is most inspiring and she remains one of Ireland’s greatest heroines. Emmet daringly came down from the hills to visit his dying mother and his sweetheart, Sarah Curran. Sirr was waiting! Emmet was captured and cast into prison. At his trial, Emmet secured his place in Irish history with a stirring and defiant speech denouncing the oppressors of his land and those who would not vindicate him for doing what he felt every true patriot should do. He said that since no man spoke up to defend him, it was obvious that no man understood his motives. Therefore, he asked, until my country takes its place among the free nations of the world; let no man write my epitaph. On 20 September, the 25-year old patriot was taken to Thomas Street where he was hanged and then beheaded on a wooden block. No one claimed his remains out of fear of arrest, though years later it was learned that his body had been secretly taken to be buried near his mother’s family in Blennerville, County Kerry in a place now called Emmet Park. Many Irish took to wearing a leaf or a sprig of shamrock in their lapel or hat-band in defiance of the government’s ban on green to show support for Emmet’s cause. Poets wrote of him with passion despite such views being censored. One used an old Irish trick of using metaphors to refer to Ireland (Nell Flaherty) and to him by his alias. The verse became a popular song damning the murder of Nell Flaherty’s Drake. The Brits thought it a silly ditty about a woman who lost a barnyard fowl while the Irish knew they were singing about the King when they sang:

May he swell with the gout, may his grinders fall out, may he roar, bawl and shout with a horrid toothache.

May his temples wear horns, and his toes all grow corns, the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty’s drake.

Emmet became an icon of resistance even up to the 1916 Rising when Tom Maguire, IRA Commandant in Co Fermanagh, wrote the moving ballad, Bold Robert Emmet – the Darling of Erin. The great Irish musicologist, Josephine Patricia Smith, believed that there were more songs about Robert Emmet than any other Irish hero. Author Terry Folan said it best when he wrote ‘His speech from the dock is the center of Republican sentiment to this day. Poets often make indifferent generals, but, at least in Ireland, they make wonderfully articulate rebels.’ Later, when funds were needed to support Ireland’s War of Independence. Michael Collins set up the wooden block on which Emmet had been beheaded in front of Pearse’s School at St Enda’s to sell Dáil Éireann bonds. At the time, Joseph MacDonagh, brother of the executed Thomas, was filming in Pearse’s school for the film Willie Reilly and his Colleen Bawn. During a break, he also filmed Collins signing up leading republicans for the first issue of Dáil Éireann bonds, using the historic block as a symbolic table. The block thus became part of the first propaganda documentary film ever produced in Ireland.

An interesting addendum to this story is that the Brits seized the remaining rockets from Emmet’s apartment and sent them to Sir William Congreve, Comptroller of the Royal Arsenal. In 1805, his son claimed them as his own invention. It was those so called Congreve Rockets that produced the ‘rockets’ red glare’ in America’s national anthem when they were fired on Fort McHenry in the War of 1812. Not only does the Bold Robert Emmet get no credit for developing the rocket, he is still waiting for his epitaph to be written!

The Irish stand against William’s army at Limerick under Patrick Sarsfield forced a treaty with William in October 1691 and as many as 19,000 more Irish troops followed Sarsfield into exile in France as a condition of the treaty. This came to be known as the “Flight of The Wild Geese.” Most added regiments to the French army and became the Irish Brigade. The names of the regiments would change with changes in command, but Dillon’s regiment remained under the command of a Dillon for its entire years of service. Irish regiments participated in most of the major land battles fought by the French and even served as France’s allies to the Scots against the English at the Battle of Falkirk Muir and Culloden during the Jacobite rising of 1745. Walsh’s Regiment also served with Washington in the American Revolution as part of John Paul Jones marines using their motto of ‘Semper et Ubique Fidelis’ (always and everywhere faithful) which may have influenced the subsequent adoption of the motto ‘Semper Fidelis’ by the U.S. Marines.

Since King Billy was the nemesis of both Louis XIV and James II and the split fidelity was defined by the Brigade wearing red coats as a sign of their fealty to the Gaelic house of Stuart and its claim to the English throne. England’s perfidious breaking of the Treaty of Limerick and introduction of the Penal Laws ensured that France’s Irish Brigade would remain supplied with the cream of Ireland’s sons for generations, bringing the total number to about 30,000 and leading to their battle cry of ‘Cuimhnigidh ar Luimneach agus ar feall na Sassanach!’ (Remember Limerick and Saxon treachery!) The Irish fought well for the French for the rest of the Nine Years War against William of Orange, at battles such as Landen in 1693, where Patrick Sarsfield was mortally wounded and whose dying words were reported to be “If only this had been for Ireland.” Despite their many victories, the one that stands out in Irish memory was the Battle of Fontenoy in 1745.

In 1698, after the war with William was concluded by the Treaty of Ryswick, many of the Irish regiments in France were disbanded by Louis XIV. But the peace that had come to Europe was short-lived; by 1701, Europe was at war again. King Charles II of Spain had died and Louis XIV pressed the cause of Philip of Anjou for the Spanish crown. The Austrians countered that Archduke Charles of Hapsburg, son of Emperor Leopold I, was the legitimate heir. Tensions, backed by England, soon led to the War of Austrian Succession with Holland, Prussia and Austria soon at war with France. Louis XIV had need of his stalwart Irishmen once again. Fontenoy was a major engagement of that war. The battle was fought against the English, with their Austrian and Dutch allies, commanded by the Duke of Cumberland, known as the ‘Bloody Butcher.’ King Louis XV of France and his son, the Dauphin, were also on the battlefield.

Fontenoy hardly ever appears in English history books, but has a strong significance in Ireland where even GAA teams are named for the battle. On the afternoon of 11 May 1745, near the town of Fontenoy in today’s Belgium, 16,000 of the finest soldiers in the armies of England and their allies stepped off to attack the center of the French army of Louis XV. Several attacks against other sections of the line had failed and the day appeared lost, but Cumberland took a chance on a bold massed attack on the French center that was sure to succeed. Courageously moving forward against heavy fire, the English soon reached the French position and appeared ready to overrun the center. The audacious gamble was about to succeed when the French sent in their last reserves in a furious attempt to save the day. As a few remaining French forces were holding on the left, the British observed another formation advancing on their right in uniforms as red as their own. Forward they came with bagpipes playing the Jacobite anthem, ‘The White Cockade,’ and voices raised in one of the most ancient languages of Europe: ‘Cuimhnigidh ar Luimneach agus ar feall na Sassanach!’ These red-coated soldiers were Irish and Frenchmen of Irish ancestry and they were intent on retribution against the nation that oppressed their people for generations. They crashed into the British with close-in hand-to-hand fighting at which they excelled with bayonet, clubbed musket and simply bare hands. A French historian later wrote that in 10 minutes it was over and the attackers who were left on their feet were driven off. The Irish Brigade had beaten the Brits and saved France – Ireland’s long-time ally.

The centuries after the broken Treaty of Limerick and introduction of the Penal Laws were a sorrowful time for Ireland’s people. It was said that the worst place in the world to be an Irish Catholic was in Ireland itself. However, if there was one organization the Irish could look to during those dark times for affirmation that they were as good as any other nationality, it was to the Irish Brigade in France and their stunning victory at Fontenoy. In addition to giving many Irishmen an outlet for their talents at a time when there was virtually none in the land of their birth, the Brigade provided hope to those destitute masses back in Ireland. As long as it existed, there remained the possibility that the flags of the regiments of the Irish Brigade might one day fly in Dublin and the Irish would have their own again. Though today many in Ireland still know the name and accomplishments of the Irish Brigade, there seem to be few in the Diaspora familiar with their legacy. That is unfortunate, for the hope that Fontenoy gave the Irish played an important role in sustaining them as a people then and a resurgent force later. That is why so many of the native Irish in the Irish Brigade of the Union Army were inspired to Remember Fontenoy!

Hark! Yonder through the darkness one distant rat-tat-tat!

The old foe stirs out there, God bless his soul for that!

The old foe musters strongly, he’s coming on at last,

And Clare’s Brigade may claim its own wherever blows fall fast.

Send us, ye western breezes, our full, our rightful share,

For Faith, and Fame, and Honor, and the ruined hearths of Clare

From “Fontenoy 1745” By Emily Lawless

For Thomas J. Clarke it all began when he was raised in Dungannon, Co. Tyrone and joined the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) at age 20. As a result of his membership he suffered a 15-year imprisonment so brutal that two of his fellow inmates went insane. To maintain his sanity Tom learned shorthand (a system devised by Dubliner John Gregg) and transcribed the entire Bible – both old and new testaments – as mental exercise. In 1898, the physically inhumane conditions he’d endured were verified and he was paroled. He went to recuperate at the home of a fellow prisoner, John Daly, released years earlier. It was there that he met and fell in love with Daly’s niece, Kathleen. Tom eventually left for New York and Katty, as he fondly called her, followed and they wed in 1901. He was hired by The Gaelic American newspaper published by John Devoy, the head of Clan na Gael – the American branch of the IRB. When Tom realized that a coming European war would involve England, he saw an opportunity to strike for Irish freedom. He decided to return to Ireland and reorganize the dormant IRB. In 1908, the Clarkes returned to Ireland and Tom opened a tobacco shop in Dublin which became a center of nationalist activity. He joined the IRB Supreme Council and replaced the docile older members with younger, militant thinkers. He placed IRB men in leadership positions in other Irish organizations from the Gaelic League and the Gaelic Athletic Association to the Irish Volunteers in order to control, consolidate, and encourage nationalist sentiment. He brought Pearse, Connolly and other leaders into a military committee to organize a nationwide rising, he arranged for the purchase of arms and when he was finally ready, he notified John Devoy that a revolution was set for Easter Sunday, 1916. When Volunteer Chief Eoin MacNeill learned of a failed delivery of arms in Kerry, he cancelled the Rising, but the nationalist momentum that Clarke had created was too well established to falter. Despite the cancellation, the rising was rescheduled for Easter Monday. It was not the well-planned rising that Clarke had envisioned, but a more courageous one since hope had vanished for support on a national scale. Following his dream, Tom Clarke proudly placed his name in the primary position on the Proclamation of an Irish Republic and marched off to challenge the right of the British to be in his country. Within a month, he would be dead – the victim of a British firing squad. Yet his death and the deaths of the other leaders, so enraged the Irish people in its severity, that they took up arms and fought a war of independence with Tom Clarke as their inspiration. The Easter Monday insurrection was the Bunker Hill of Irish history for, though it was unsuccessful, it sparked a struggle that never ceased until Ireland realized freedom. Devoy claimed that “but for him there would have been no IRB left in Ireland and no fight in 1916.”

For Kathleen Daly Clarke it all began for her when her uncle John was released from prison. Daughter of a nationalist family, she listened intently to her uncle’s stories praising the courage of a fellow prisoner, Tom Clarke, and though Tom was 20 years her senior she knew the man she wanted to marry. It was only after Clarke was released and came to the Daly home to recuperate that her uncle realized the awe in which young Kathleen held his old friend and that was revealed at years’ end when they announced their engagement. Tom left for New York in 1900, joined Clan na Gael and went to work for John Devoy. Kathleen joined him and they married on 16 July 1901 after which they settled in the Bronx. A year later, they moved to Brooklyn and eventually bought a farm in Manorville, Long Island. As war between England and Germany neared, Tom and other ranking members of the Clan agreed that Ireland’s day of liberation was at hand. Tom wanted to return and reorganize the ailing IRB, but Katty wouldn’t hear of it. She recalled the frail figure that limped into her Limerick home in 1898 nearly dead from mistreatment. She pleaded that he had done as much as any man could do for his country and reminded him that as a parolee, he was still subject to arrest. Tom reminded her of the premature death of her father, the torture endured by her uncle and the grief imposed on her mother and grandmother by the cruel alien force in their homeland. In his own persuasive way, Tom fanned the smoldering fire of her nationalist soul and rekindled her passion for Ireland. Together, they sailed for Ireland and into the pages of Irish history. What happened next was too perfect not to have had some divine intervention.

Kathleen’s strong nationalist sentiment made her an invaluable partner to Tom’s organizing activities. Together, they revived the IRB nationalist newspaper Irish Freedom and, as Tom organized the men of Ireland, Kathleen joined the Daughters of Ireland and became a founder of Cumann na mBan – the ladies auxiliary to the Irish Volunteers. As evidence of IRB confidence in her, as the date of the Rising drew near, the Supreme Council chose Kathleen to safeguard their plans and assets. If they were arrested, she was to use them to continue the dream with a new leader whom she was to choose. After the flag of an Irish Republic flew over Dublin for 6 days, the leaders voted to surrender to save the growing number of civilians casualties from indiscriminate British shelling; the only one to vote no was Clarke and he broke down sobbing when outvoted. After surrender, the patriots were held overnight on Rotunda Garden. Clarke was recognized by British Captain Lea-Wilson who had him stood erect and stripped naked before an on-looking public while verbally abusing the 58-year old as a sad example of Irish manhood. An enraged Michael Collins, also on the lawn, made a point of locating Lea-Wilson in Wexford in 1920 and had him shot dead! The leaders were sentenced to be executed, Kathleen’s husband and brother, Ned Daly, among them. On her last visit to Tom in prison, to avoid depressing him further, she bravely withheld the news that she was pregnant; she later miscarried. After the leaders were murdered and their followers imprisoned, Martial Law was imposed nationwide. Ireland faced the same brutality imposed after the United Irishmen Rising of 1798 that successfully squashed nationalism for generations. Yet this time the Brits hadn’t reckoned on Kathleen Daly Clarke! She had the funds and assets entrusted to her by the IRB along with a list of trusted local nationalist leaders around Ireland. When the leader’s destiny turned out to be the ultimate sacrifice, it fired the fury of the Irish nation and Kathleen was waiting to lead them to the final victory with the tools that Tom had fashioned. The first thing she did was to set up Prisoners Dependent’s Fund offices around the country to care for the families of those interned after the Rising. Later when public pressure forced the release of the internees; those offices were used to help settle returning prisoners. Then, Kathleen chose the new nationalist leader ─ his name was Michael Collins! When she turned over the funds and assets to Collins, her national network of offices became recruiting centers to reorganize a national liberation force and in January 1919, a War of Independence began.

All through that action and into the years of the Irish Free State and the Republic of Ireland, Kathleen Daly Clarke served her country as no woman ever had. She was one of four women elected into the Sinn Fein executive in 1917 and in May 1918, was arrested with Countess Markievicz, Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington and Maude Gonne MacBride. In late 1919 after her release, she became a successful candidate in local government and in 1921 was elected a member of the second Dail (Irish Parliament). She was also elected to the third Dail in 1925 and then was elected as Senator of the Upper House where she devoted much of her work to opposing Eamon deValera’s policies relegating women to menial positions. In 1939 she became the first female Lord Mayor of Dublin and her first act was to remover the picture of Queen Victoria that had been hanging in the Mansion House for years saying that she could not sleep in a house with that woman in it! Further, at the swearing-in ceremony, she refused the Mayoral Chain of Office since it had been presented to the city in 1698 by King William of Orange. After a long career of service to Ireland, she retired in 1941, living the rest of her life in peace until she joined Tom in 1972.

Memorials were erected and sites dedicated to 15 of the 16 executed leaders of the Easter Rising, but Kathleen was adamant that no money be put into brick and mortar in Tom’s name as long as there were hungry citizens in Dublin. However, in 1954 a memorial to three leaders of the 1916 rising was erected at Sarsfield Bridge in Limerick depicting men significant to that county. Beside a figure of Mother Ireland stands Limerick-born Ned Daly and Con Colbert along with Tom Clarke who married a Limerick lady. It was the first statue of Tom Clarke in all of Ireland and depicts him holding a rifle for his part in the rising. In 1987, a Suffolk County, NY AOH Historian’s Committee funded and erected an obelisk of Wicklow granite at the former Clarke home-site in Manorville. Sam O’Reilly, Easter Rising veteran and Tom Clarke’s friend, was invited to lay a wreath at the dedication ceremony and he told this historian, Tom would have like this; that made it all worthwhile. In 1996 Kathleen’s name was added to the obelisk. On Sunday, 1 May 2016, Dungannon’s Tom Clarke 1916 Club and the Tom Clarke GAA Club unveiled a statue of Tom. It is only the second statue of him in all of Ireland and it depicts him with a pen in hand memorializing the moment after he became the first to sign the proclamation of the Irish Republic. Then, on 3 May 2016, on the centennial of his death, a bridge in Dublin was renamed the Thomas J Clarke Memorial Bridge. In 2018, the Tyrone AOH awarded a proclamation of thanks to the Suffolk AOH for erecting the Manorville Memorial. Tom and Kathleen Clarke were an inspired as well as inspirational couple. They prepared a whole generation of Irish for liberty and guided them through its fulfillment. In no other nation’s history can one find a husband and wife team so actively devoted to the goal of freedom.

Timing is also important. Waves of migrating Celtic peoples from the 8th century BC onward had settled heavily in northern and central Spain, penetrating Portugal and Galicia, but left the indigenous Iberian people of the south and east intact. These Celtic invaders were closely related to other Celts from Western Europe. The northern and central region holds the least Mediterranean ancestry DNA in Iberia, while there is northern African influence evident in the Southern and Western regions of the peninsula which had commercial and cultural relations with Mediterranean trading partners.

The modern Iberian Peninsula also attributes a level of ancestry originating in a long Moorish presence. The Moors were a nomadic people from North Africa; originally inhabitants of parts of Morocco and Algeria. In 711 AD, they invaded Spain, bringing their Islamic religion and culture with them; they inhabited two-thirds of the peninsula for 375 years, about half of it for another 160 years and finally just the kingdom of Granada for a remaining 244 years before being defeated by Ferdinand and Isabella on 1 January 1492.

However, all that was in the future at the time the ‘Milesians’ sailed to Ireland from the Iberian peninsula, circa 500 BC, most likely from Portugal which derived its name from port au galli (Port of the Gaels), since that part of western Iberia was still totally Celtic! To infer that the Celts who arrived from ‘Spain’ were descended from today’s Spanish people is one of the dangers of reading superficial accounts of history without delving into the minute details. Those who claim the black hair of some Irish as evidence of Spanish influence would be wise to realize that black hair is the most common of all human hair colors globally. It is a dominant genetic trait and is found in people of all backgrounds and ethnicities.

Then there are those who point to the destruction of Spain’s Armada off the western Irish coast and the survival of shipwrecked sailors who reached shore as a source a Spanish ancestry and we refer them to an article written in November, 2017 by Ireland’s archives entitled: Spanish Armada Shipwrecks along the Wild Atlantic Way. It revealed facts about the sailors lost on Ireland’s coast in September, 1588. Those who made it to shore landed in enemy territory and English troops and Irish loyalists stripped survivors of their possessions before turning them over to the Crown for a reward. However, there were Irish clans protecting survivors like the O’Rourke of Breifne (Cavan), McClancy of Rosclogher(Leitrim) and Redmond O’Gallagher of Derry who, at the behest of the three Hughs of Ulster – O’Neill, O’Donnell and Maguire – safely smuggled survivors back to Spain. Virtually none survived to settle down and wed Irish women since those few who escaped detection were more anxious to get out of enemy territory and back to home and family in Spain.

The history of Irish-Spanish relations show that they were always close from the trading alliance with Granuaille, Spanish aid to Ireland’s Catholics during the Nine Years War, sanctuary to Catholic Chieftains during the Flight of the Earls and even to the Irish who went to Spain to fight with Generalissimo Franco to defend the Church against Communists. (Google NYAOH.com/historicalhappenings for April 2019). So, despite the lack of ancestral DNA, it can be truly said that the Irish and Spanish have always been brothers in Christ.

Some claim St. Patrick to be Italian because he was born in Roman occupied territory and his name was Patricius. The mists of time have clouded the exact location of his birth, but what is known from available evidence is that he was born somewhere in Wales around 386 AD. His father was part of the governing body (Decurian) and a Christian Deacon while, according to the Catholic Encyclopedia, his mother, Conchessa was related to St. Martin of Tours. Although Wales was part of the Roman Empire at that time, it was a Celtic country and its people were one race with the people of Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, Cornwall, and the Isle of Man. As for his Italian sounding name, it was given to him when he was consecrated Bishop and assigned to the mission in Ireland. Before that time, our patron Saint’s name was Maewyn Succat, a very Celtic name. There is, therefore, more evidence to suggest that Patrick was Celtic, than any other nationality.

As for the snakes, although a popular legend, it is geologically known that there never were any in Ireland to begin with. His connection with that legend stems from the Church’s representation of the Devil in the form of a serpent, and artistic representations of Patrick driving the Devil out of Ireland in that form. (Artistic presentations also put belly buttons on Adam and Eve!) The fact that there were no snakes led to the question, “what happened to them,” and the answer was easily found in St Patrick’s traditional statue.

As for being the first to bring Christianity to Ireland, there were several missionary priests there before him, but he was sent by Rome to co-ordinate their activities and form a national Irish Church, which he did so successfully that it became the Isle of Saints and Scholars and re-educated the whole of Europe after the Dark ages. It is also said that he used the shamrock to explain the blessed Trinity which is totally false. The first written mention of the link does not appear until 1681, in the account of Thomas Dineley, an English traveler to Ireland. To the Celts, three was a powerful symbol as many single things came in threes as in nature (sea, land and sky), existence (birth, life and death) or elements (rain, wind and fire). There are even triads in Irish lore such as the three things to most beware of: the horn of a bull, the bark of a dog and the word of an Englishman. When Patrick explained the single God in terms of three, he didn’t need a shamrock.

Another tradition is that Corned Beef and Cabbage is an Irish dish. It is a definite Irish-American tradition – the Irish would be more familiar with Bacon or ham and Cabbage. When many downtrodden Irish, escaping the Great Hunger, settled in New York, they were forced into the slums of the lower east side around the notorious Five Points. Unskilled and unschooled, they tried to scratch out a living and send a few pennies back to those they were forced to leave behind. Personal gain eluded them as prejudice and No Irish Need Apply signs hindered their climb to economic stability, yet they persevered and eventually succeeded against incredible odds. Among the hardships they endured in a slum environment was the lack of nourishing food. It was generally up to the mother to prepare a healthy meal for her family and in this situation, her ingenuity left us a tradition. In the mid-19th century, New York was a major port in the China tea trade and a trip to China and back would take about nine months. However, an unlucky ship could spend additional time crossing due to calms, squalls and shifting winds. Carrying a crew of 50 to 60 men, ships were provisioned before leaving New York with enough fresh water, flat bread, oats, coffee, rum and salted beef to last until they reached China. After gastric complaints about re-provisioning in China for the trip home, many began to carry double provisions for the round trip. Upon arrival back in New York, the excess lumps of beef, that had been soaking in brine for 9 months, were sold to Irish mothers seeking nourishment for their families at a penny a pound. They took it home and prepared it so that their families would have meat, at least when their ships came in, giving rise to an old expression. They would boil the beef to remove the salt, discard the water and boil it again. They found that repeating that process three times – once each for the Father, Son and Holy Ghost – would remove enough salt to make it palatable, however, while the salt was gone, so was the flavor! That’s when a head of cabbage was added. The last time the beef was boiled, it was boiled in water that had boiled a head of cabbage and a flavor was introduced to the meat. It was a far cry from the bacon and cabbage they might have enjoyed in Ireland, but still it was a welcome dish. In later years, the dish became a nostalgic tradition for it brought back memories of a mother’s love although the modern dish is more palatable than the one mom prepared in a Five Points kitchen, but unless it was boiled in Cabbage water, it’s not authentic. On Saint Patrick’s Day, many people enjoy corned beef and cabbage believing it to be an Irish dish. In a manner of speaking it is, but it should not remind us of Ireland. Rather it should remind us of the ingenuity of Irish mothers, their dedication to their families and their determination to overcome any obstacles put in their path. It should also remind us of the hardships endured by our immigrant ancestors so that today we can enjoy a dish of corned beef and cabbage in pleasant company and surroundings.

When the first shots of the Civil War were fired at Fort Sumter in April 1861, Regimental Colonel Sligo-born Michael Corcoran called for America’s Irish to join the 69th. More than 5,000 applied for only 1,500 billets and 11 days later, Corcoran and his regiment marched down Broadway and steamed away to defend the Union capital in D.C. The first test for the 69th was the Battle of Bull Run. In their first battle, the inexperienced Union army cut and ran back to D.C., but one unit that earned praise was the 69th Regiment who stayed to provide cover for the fleeing troops. They were the last to leave the field suffering 97 casualties and 95 captured, including Colonel Corcoran. The 69th returned to NY to rebuild their tattered ranks. Acting Commander, Captain Thomas Francis Meagher, began recruiting from the Hibernian House on Prince Street diagonally across from Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral. When thousands of Irish responded, Meagher requested permission to form a Brigade. The Army was against forming ethnic brigades, but since England was trading with the Confederacy, they felt that fielding an Irish unit might just give the British pause and so they agreed and the Irish Brigade was born. It included the 69th, 88th and 63rd NY regiments and, later, the 28th Mass and 116th Pennsylvania. Some joined for the $300 signing bonus which was sent to family in Ireland, some out of a sense of duty toward their adopted land and some because of British support for the Confederacy.

The Irish Brigade saw some of the war’s harshest battles and they earned a reputation as the most courageous unit in the Army of the Potomac. After one battle, President Lincoln visiting the troops lifted a corner of the Irish battle flag, kissed it and said, God Bless the Irish Flag. Meagher had ordered 69-caliber smoothbore muskets for his men. They were considered obsolete, but very effective at close range which was the style of fighting he wanted because they fired the more deadly buck and ball ammunition and could take down 3 men at a time. Close up fighting made the Brigade fearsome, but also produced heavy casualties since they had to get up close to be effective. The Brigade fought in every campaign of the Army of the Potomac, from the peninsular campaign in 1862 to the surrender of Lee at Appomattox in 1865. At Fair Oaks, Gaines Mill, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville and every major battle fought by the Army of the Potomac, the figure of General Meagher was seen leading his men into battle. Between campaigns new Irish were recruited to replace the fallen. Among all their battles the three most costly were Antietam, Fredericksburg and Gettysburg. The Sept, 1862 battle of Antietam was the deadliest day in American history, with 23,000 killed and wounded. The Brigade suffered 540 casualties and Gen. McClelland later wrote, The Irish Brigade sustained their well-earned reputation, suffering terribly in officers and men and strewing the ground with their enemies, as they drove them back. Three months later, the Brigade assaulted Confederate entrenchments along Marye’s Heights in Fredericksburg achieving international fame with the tenacity of their attack and eliciting cheers from their rebel adversaries, many of whom were Irish themselves. The next day, only 280 of 1,300 men were able to report for duty. Gen. Robert E. Lee later wrote, Never were men so brave. They ennobled their race by their splendid gallantry. In July 1863 at Gettysburg they successfully countered a Confederate offensive near Little Round Top losing 202 men killed out of 530. When Lee finally surrendered to Grant at Appomattox in April 1865, the Brigade was there. One rebel officer told a Union officer, the only reason you won was because you had more Irish than we had! On May 23 and 24, 1865 they paraded in review in Washington D.C. and in the following months, they returned to their homes to celebrate the new national holiday declared by President Lincoln two years earlier — Thanksgiving. Returning, they received a tumultuous welcome from not only the Irish citizens, but from all who had followed their courageous history.

In post-war America, the Irish still faced poverty but discrimination had diminished. Many Americans accorded the Irish a new level of respect since many thousands had made the ultimate sacrifice defending the Union and, as a testament to their bravery, 7 members of the Irish Brigade were presented with the Medal of Honor. Soon it became unfashionable to discriminate against the Irish and the NO IRISH NEED APPLY signs began to disappear from Help Wanted ads. And that was perhaps the greatest victory for the Irish Brigade. Of the 7,715 men who served in its ranks, 961 were killed and more than 3,000 were wounded – more than ever served in its ranks at any one time. The 69th NY suffered 75 per cent casualties while the British Light Brigade memorialized by Alfred Lord Tennyson for riding into the ‘Valley of Death’ lost less than 37 per cent. There is no famous verse for the Irish, but author Joseph Bilby in his book Remember Fontenoy wrote, The Irish Brigade was, many said, the best brigade in the Army of the Potomac. Some said it was the best brigade in the whole Union army and perhaps the best infantry brigade on either side. Today, others with the perspective of history have come to believe it may have been the best infantry brigade that ever was!

New Year’s Eve in Times Square had been celebrated for many years as crowds assembled to cheer at midnight. In 1888, an Irishman named Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore decided to add music to the event. Back then, the triangle of land at the intersection of 7th Avenue, Broadway and 42nd Street was known as the Long Acre and there Galway-born Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, leading the greatest Brass Band in America, performed for a large audience and then led them in a countdown, firing two pistols in the air at the stroke of midnight. The event became an annual tradition.

In 1904 the celebration was expanded with the opening of The New York Times whose owner had the Long Acre renamed Times Square in honor of the new Times Tower which stood thereon, That New Year’s Eve, the celebration began with a street festival and ended in a fireworks display. At midnight came the cheering of more than 200,000 attendees listening to the music that had become part of the tradition thanks to the late Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore. After Gilmore’s passing, the tune Auld Lang Syne (old long since), became part of New Year’s Eve in 1929 when Guy Lombardo played it on a New Year’s Eve radio broadcast. That song owes it origin to our Celtic cousin, the Scottish poet Robbie Burns, and added another Gaelic touch to the tradition.

However, the pre-eminent tradition became the dropping of a huge ball to mark the New Year. In 1907, the city banned the fireworks display so a 5-foot diameter, 700-pound iron and wood ball, adorned with a hundred 25-watt bulbs, was lowered from the tower flag pole exactly at midnight to welcome in 1908. A Ball has been lowered every year since, with the exceptions of 1942 and 1943, due to a wartime “blackout.” Yet, crowds still gathered and greeted the New Year with a minute of silence to the ringing of chimes from sound trucks to ring out the old and ring in the new.

In 1920, a 400-pound wrought-iron Ball replaced the original and in 1955, an aluminum Ball weighing just 150 pounds was used until 1980, when red light bulbs and the addition of a green stem converted the Ball into a big apple for an “I Love New York” marketing campaign. In 1988, after the Big Apple campaign, the traditional Ball with white lights returned. In 1995, the Ball was upgraded with aluminum skin, rhinestones and computer controls, but that was lowered for the last time in 1998. In 1999, for the coming Millennium, something really special was required and the New Year’s celebration returned to its Irish roots!

For the millennium celebration, the Ball was completely redesigned by Ireland’s Waterford Crystal company combining the latest in lighting technology with the most traditional of materials, reminding us of our past as we faced a new millennium. In 2007, the 100th anniversary of the Ball, Waterford Crystal crafted a spectacular new LED crystal Ball that increased the brightness and color capabilities. It measured six feet in diameter, weighed 1,070 pounds, and incorporated over 600 halogen bulbs, 504 crystal triangles, 96 strobe lights, and spinning mirrors. The ball went green in 2008, marking the centennial of its first appearance with an accidental nod to its Irish contributions. It was the fifth design: 6-foot in diameter; 1,212 pounds; lit by 9,567 energy-efficient LED lamps with computerized color patterns and made up of the same Waterford crystal panels.

The Ball we see today was made in 2009 and is absolutely massive with a 12-foot diameter; a weight of nearly 6-tons; 32,256 LED lamps; and 2,688 crystal panels – 192 of which are new in design to reflect good will as we enter a new decade.

This kaleidoscopic sphere, twice as large as its predecessor, is now a year-round attraction sparkling above Times Square in full public view January through December. As we welcome each new year with the descent of the Waterford Crystal Ball, think of the Celtic connection to that unique icon that is viewed around the world and stand a wee bit taller!

He disagreed with the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 that established a 26-county Irish Free State, because it denied the 32-county Republic which he had sworn to achieve. On 26 March 1922, he and other anti-treaty IRA officers held a convention in Dublin, in which they rejected the Treaty and repudiated the authority of Dail Eireann – the new Irish Parliament. O’Connor became Chairman of the Military Council of the dissident IRA, known as the Irregulars. On 13 April 1922, O’Connor, with 200 Irregulars under his command, took over the Four Courts building in Dublin in defiance of the new Irish government. They hoped to provoke British troops, who were still in the country, into attacking them. They felt that such an act would re-start the war with Britain and reunite the pro- and anti-Treaty IRA against their common enemy. O’Connor and his men remained in Four Courts under truce conditions with the Free State while Michael Collins tried desperately, but unsuccessfully, to persuade O’Connor to leave the building.

On 22 June Sir Henry Wilson was assassinated in London by two IRA men and Lloyd George wrote an angry letter to Collins to get the IRA men out of the Four Courts or he would. Collins knew that surrendering military authority back to the British would destroy the new Irish Free State in its infancy and put Ireland under the Crown again. Then on 26 June, the Four Courts garrison kidnapped Ginger O’Connell in reprisal for the arrest of an anti-treaty officer. Ginger O’Connell, who had returned from America after serving in the Fighting 69th Regiment, was a general in the Free State Army. The British moved artillery into place and told Collins to use it or they would. Collins had no choice but to shell the Four Courts with the British artillery. O’Connor surrendered after two days, but not before much of seven centuries of Ireland’s historical and genealogical records, stored in an archive known as the Public Record Office, were destroyed much to the horror of future historians. O’Connor was arrested and sent to Mountjoy Prison. That shelling sparked a Civil War as fighting broke out around the country between pro- and anti- treaty factions, dividing old friends and families alike.

One family divided was Sean Hales and his brother Tom. Both were members of the IRA during the War of Independence and both were against the treaty. Sean, however, was persuaded by Michael Collins to join the pro-Treaty side and voted for the Treaty while his brother voted against it. In June, 1922, Sean was elected to the new Dail as a pro-Treaty Sinn Féin delegate while his brother Tom organized the ambush that killed Michael Collins two months later on 22 August. Collins’ death threw both sides into a senseless frenzy of tit-for-tat revenge killings. After Collins’ death, the Free State government declared that IRA Irregulars were conducting an unlawful rebellion against the legitimate Irish government and enacted Martial Law to end the violence. On 27 September, the Free State set up military courts allowing for the execution of men captured bearing arms against the state.

On 17 November, five Irregulars who had been captured with arms in Co. Wicklow were shot by firing squad in Dublin. Two days later, three more Irregulars were executed. On 24 November, Robert Erskine Childers, acclaimed author and secretary to the Anglo-Irish Treaty negotiations that created the Free State, was executed. He had been captured on 10 November in possession of a pistol – a pistol which, ironically, had been given to him by Michael Collins before the split in the movement. This should have at last demonstrated the senselessness of the hostilities. However, in response to the executions, on 30 November, Liam Lynch, Chief of Staff of the Irregular IRA, ordered that members of the Dail be shot on sight. On 6 December 1922, Sean Hales was shot and killed by Irregulars as he left the Dáil and another Delegate, Pádraic O’Máille, was badly wounded. Hales’ killing was a reprisal for the Free State’s execution of anti-treaty prisoners. Then, in revenge for Hales’ killing, four dissident republican leaders, who were held in custody, were to be executed. On 8 December 1922, Rory O’Connor, with Liam Mellows, Richard Barrett and Joe McKelvey, captured in the Four Courts, were executed by firing squad. The execution order was given by Kevin O’Higgins, who less than a year earlier had Rory O’Connor as Best Man in his wedding! The men in the accompanying photo are (l to r) DeValera, O’Higgins and O’Connor. When O’Connor was buried, he had a treasured souvenir which was sewn into the hem of his pants, buried with him. It was a gold engraved coin given to him by Kevin O’Higgins for being his Best Man! Such was the insanity and bitterness of the division caused by the Treaty that England had forced on the Irish and which partitioned Ireland. Brother Hibernian Rory O’Connor and the other executed Republicans were subsequently seen as martyrs by the Republican movement.

Today, from the distance of all the years since, it is still difficult to comprehend the differences held by the belligerents who walked their own roads toward the common goal of a free and united Ireland. And, in December 1922, a number of Irish patriots – bitter rivals, though former comrades – met once more in Tir na n’Og.

It was therefore not unusual when a British lorry arrived at Monk’s bakery on Dublin’s Upper Church Street at 11:30 AM on September 20, to find it heavily guarded by armed military. As the soldiers loaded supplies, a voice from the street called, “Drop your rifles and put up your hands.” It was a group of IRA men. Suddenly, one of the soldiers fired, then a fusillade erupted as IRA and soldiers dueled with revolvers and rifles. When it was over, one soldier was killed and four wounded, and the IRA men melted away into the crowd. The British spotted a young man hiding under their lorry and pulled him out, threw him in the back with their wounded and sped off. An official statement later from British HQ stated that, “One of the aggressors had been arrested.”

The questioning and physical persuasion were intense: “Who were his companions? Name the officers of the Volunteers? Where was their Headquarters?” Kevin refused to betray the movement. He was offered amnesty and freedom, yet he refused. Tortured for days on end, he still refused. The British had never seen such determination in one so young. His mother visited him, and reported that his arm was in a sling as a result of the beatings he received. Finally, Kevin was charged with murder. At a secret Courts Martial, he was convicted and sentenced to death by hanging.

A reprieve movement focused world-wide attention on the injustice of British rule in Ireland intensifying pressure on England to release the young student, but still no repeal. Late at night, Kevin was taken to the Execution Chamber, an ordinary room on the second floor of the prison with a rope hanging from a beam in the roof and a trap door in the floor, to see where he would end his life the following morning. With incredible cruelty and mental coercion, he was promised a full pardon, tuition paid at Medical school and a pension for life if he would only reveal the names of his officers and comrades. Kevin, visibly shaken, glanced up at the beam from which hung the noose and said, “I think that should bear my weight.”

At 8 AM on November 1, All Saints Day, with the streets around Mountjoy Jail filled with women kneeling in prayer for him, 18-year-old Kevin Barry, his hands tied behind him, was led to the gallows where his short life was ended. Later, Father Albert, one of Kevin’s last visitors, reported that Kevin’s final message to Ireland and his comrades in arms, was, “Hold on, and stick to the Republic.” Kevin Barry’s life was over, but his influence had just begun. His name became a symbol and a slogan; a hymn to freedom and to unconquerable youth.

Meanwhile, 5,000 miles away at Dagshai prison in Jullendar, India, the following day, November 2, the 129-year old spirit of the bravest and proudest regiment in the British Army – The Connaught Rangers – died forever as 22-year-old Private James Joseph Daly of Tyrellspass, Co Westmeath was murdered by a British firing squad for leading a peaceful protest against British brutality in Ireland. But that’s another story!

Queen Elizabeth I had outlawed the Catholic Church and it was an act of treason to shelter a priest. Sir John Bourke of Brittas, Co. Limerick was a secret member of the Rosary Confraternity of the hidden Dominicans of the City. He promoted the Rosary in his family and locality risking the enmity of the Crown by his open avowal of the Catholic Faith and protection of hunted clergy. When Elizabeth died and James, son of Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots, came to the throne in 1603, there was a pause in the persecution as James I had promised that he would not persecute “any that will be quiet and give but an outward obedience to the law.” Bourke now openly attended St. Mary’s Cathedral which had been restored to the Catholics and was received with his family into the Dominican Confraternity of the Holy Rosary. However, English Catholics, disillusioned with their new king, led a failed assassination attempt against him in 1605 that triggered a new wave of anti-Catholicism and harsher legislation. On the renewal of persecution, Sir John was summoned to answer a charge of refusing to attend Church of England services and thereby committing a statutory offense. He was imprisoned, but his friend, Sir George Thornton, obtained his release; yet he continued to harbor hunted priests and protect Catholics. Each year he invited priests to secretly celebrate Mass in Brittas Castle. During one secret celebration on the feast of the Holy Rosary ─ the first Sunday of October ─ in 1606 or 1607, he was betrayed by his kinsmen, Theobald Bourke of Castleconnell and Sir Edmond Walsh of Abington. A detachment of soldiers arrived to arrest the priests and Sir John stalled until Mass was over and Fathers Clancy and Haligan escaped through a secret passage. On his refusal to co-operate, Brittas Castle was besieged. Sir John “with his helmet on his head, his shield on his left arm and his sword in his right hand, burst out and made good his escape.” He made it to Waterford on his way to Spain, but was there betrayed, arrested and sent back to Limerick for trial. He refused to renounce the Catholic Faith or conform to the new state religion, stating “he could acknowledge no king or queen against the King of Heaven and Queen of Heaven. . . whoever would act otherwise was not a servant of God but a slave of the devil.” He was tried by Judge Sir Dominic Sarsfield, and sentenced to be hanged, beheaded, and quartered. He was executed on Gallows Green three months later on 20 December and his body, returned to relatives, was buried in St. John’s Churchyard, where no trace of it remains.

In 1625, Charles II took the throne on the death of James I and limited Catholic tolerance returned. Sir Dominic Sarsfield had renounced the Faith for political gain, but his brother kept it and passed it to his son Patrick. In 1640, Patrick Sarsfield (not the Earl of Lucan) the nephew of Sir Dominic, wanted to atone for the terrible deed of his uncle and he and his wife, Eleanor, had a statue of the Blessed Virgin carved from oak in Belgium. It was almost life-size at four and a half feet tall. It has Mary wearing a white robe and a blue cloak decorated with stars, and her brown hair is coiled over her right shoulder. She holds the infant Jesus in her left arm and through her right hand she threads a silver rosary coming from the hand of Jesus. At her feet are the carved faces of winged cherubs and on her head a jeweled golden crown. He also commissioned a silver chalice, which was placed in a hollowed out section of the statue’s back. Patrick and Eleanor donated the Statue and the Sarsfield Chalice, dated 1640, to the Dominicans of St Mary’s parish in Limerick and he inscribed it with his wife’s and his name in reparation for the sin of his Uncle. They were presented to Fr. Terence Albert O’Brien who would later become Bishop of Emly.

However, the religious policies of Charles II and his marriage to a Roman Catholic, generated the mistrust of English Puritans who thought his views were too Catholic. In 1642 an English Civil War resulted in his overthrow and his execution in 1649 after which the anti-Catholic Puritan army of Oliver Cromwell turned its attention to Ireland. In September 1651, a messenger arrived at Limerick with the news that Cromwell’s army was on its way. Panicked residents began to prepare for an assault. Sacred books and vessels were taken from churches and hidden. The statue of Our Lady of Limerick, as it was now known, presented a problem because of its size, but it had to be protected from the infidel at all cost. It was decided to bury it in a coffin and that they did. On the last day of June, the Puritan army surrounded the city, terms of surrender were rejected and a siege began. Through a long hot summer with food supplies gone people were reduced to eating anything they could catch, even rats. Inevitably, plague broke out and hundreds died. Limerick finally capitulated and articles of surrender were signed. On 30 October 1651, all the city leaders were executed including Bishop Terence Albert O’Brien who had received the gift of the statue, but never revealed its secret location.

A century passed and no one had seen the statue for a hundred years, though they knew of it existence and its legendary beauty. People prayed to Our Lady of Limerick as a means of keeping the memory of the statue alive. Finally, the Papists Act of 1778 became the first Act of Parliament for limited Roman Catholic relief. It was now safe to exhume the statue and its location was revealed. In 1780, the Dominicans built a small chapel in Fish Lane to replace an earlier church destroyed by anti-Catholic forces. The statue was recovered from its earthly grave where it was found lying face down, in perfect condition; no erosion, no insect damage and no rot had affected her. Inside the statue, the magnificent Sarsfield Chalice was found, as perfect as the day Patrick and Eleanor Sarsfield had donated it a century before. The statue was given a place of honor in the new Dominican chapel on Fish Lane where it remained until 1818 or 1820 when it was carried in procession and enthroned on its own altar surrounded by images of saints in the Church of St. Savior in Glentworth Street. In 1954 the Virgin was crowned with a tiara of gold, pearls and diamonds all donated by the women of Limerick with the result that rich and poor alike had some share in the graces that flow from Our Lady of Limerick. On the Virgin’s arm rests the Infant Jesus while the long silver rosary, with an ancient tubular cross, still stretches from her right hand. Our Lady of Limerick, a gift in reparation for the sins of man, watches over her beloved city and its people to this very day – a remarkable relic created to atone for deeds against the Irish, protected by the Irish and, after surviving the centuries, returned to a position of veneration by the Irish.

As is the case with many accounts that took place in the penal times, secrecy was paramount and historical documentation is difficult to find. In this story, we found records that define Sir John Bourke’s arrest and execution as 1606 and 1607, yet the accounts are identical. There is also a question of whether the clergy were Dominican or Franciscan although the statue is now in the care of the Dominican sisters. In the absence of those minor details of historical data, we rely on the facts in hand and tradition and in this case the tradition has proven to be 99% accurate.

Thousands of miles away, in Glenns Ferry, Idaho, stands Our Lady of Limerick Catholic Church, a historic church built in 1915 obviously by parishioners with a connection to Limerick. It was listed on the National Register of Historic Places on November 17, 1982.

On August 14th, Cromwell landed at Dublin with 10,000 foot-soldiers, 4,000 cavalry and enough artillery to crush all resistance by the Irish and those who had supported the former King. On 3 September he began his campaign at Drogheda. For eight days, 2,800 men defended the town against the onslaught until a breech in the walls allowed Cromwell’s army to storm in and cut down the defenders to a man. What followed became the trademark of his victories across Ireland. Under Cromwell’s order of ‘no quarter’, the army indiscriminately slaughtered the defenders as well as the defenseless civilian population; for five days men, women and children were hunted and butchered. On 2 October, Cromwell appointed a national day of thanksgiving in celebration of the dreadful slaughter at Drogheda of which he wrote, The enemy were about 3,000 strong in the town. I believe we have put to the sword the whole number . . . In this very place (Saint Peter’s Church) a thousand of them were put to the sword, fleeing thither for safety. Hugh Peters, Cromwell’s chaplain, gave the total loss of life as 3,552, of whom about 2,800 were soldiers, meaning that between 700–800 were civilians. A few survivors were sent into servitude to English settlers in Barbados.

On 11 October, after reducing the northern strongholds in quick succession, Cromwell swept south to Wexford where, as Lingard states in his History of England, Wexford was abandoned to the mercy of the assailants. The tragedy recently enacted at Drogheda was renewed. No distinction was made between the defenseless inhabitants and the armed soldiers, nor could the shrieks and prayers of the 300 females who had gathered round the great cross in the market-place, preserve them from the swords. Cromwell reduced the garrisons of Arklow, Inniscorthy and Ross on his way to Wexford. After Wexford, he attacked Waterford and laid waste to the cities of Cork. He then rested at Youghal awaiting fresh supplies from England.

In January, Cromwell took the field again and reduced Fethard, Cashel, and Carrick. At Clonmel, he was met by Hugh O’Neill, nephew of Owen Roe, and a small garrison of 1,500 men. They put up the last major resistance to the Puritan army. By May, Cromwell left for England after the bloodiest campaign ever seen by the Irish. He left his son Henry and General Ireton in command of the English army. For the next two years, scattered pockets of resistance were systematically wiped out.

In 1652, after three years of slaughter, the last of the Irish Clansmen accepted Cromwell’s terms of surrender. In August, the Cromwellian Act of Settlement was passed stating that all Irish who couldn’t prove that they had supported Cromwell’s Army were to forfeit all properties and land and remove themselves west to the poorest and most barren part of Ireland or face execution. To Hell or To Connaught – a phrase that conjures up bitter feelings to this day – was the choice given. This amounted to the seizure of a fortune in personal property and more than 11 million acres of the best land in Ireland. English speculators, who had advanced monies to raise the army for service in Ireland, were rewarded with confiscated land. Unable to pay its soldiers in cash, all debts were paid in Irish land; thus was Ireland made to pay for her own conquest.

The Irish were given six months to move out and some took to the hills living as outlaws raiding the English settlements. More than 34,000 went abroad to chance their fortunes in the Irish Brigades of foreign armies. Those who owned no property or land, were left to form a workforce of laborers for their new English masters with the stipulation that they were not permitted to live in the towns. At this point in Irish history we can say that those descendants of Norman conquerors finally became as Irish as the Irish themselves since they were now dispossessed just as their ancestors had dispossessed the native Irish. They were now in the same social, economic, and political position as the native Irish had been. And the native Irish moved a step lower on the socio-economic ladder, as a caste of itinerant peasant laborers, forced to live in the woods and fields away from the towns in their own land.

As a result of Cromwell’s slaughter, swarms of widows and orphans; starving, unemployable survivors of both sexes wandered everywhere. Some of their descendants still travel the roads of Ireland today, but in 1652 the English solved the problem by selling them to commercial agents to ship to Barbados, Montserrat, St. Kitts and Virginia to be sold into service to English colonists. In 1633, Jesuit Father Andrew White on the ship, Dove, from England to Maryland in Lord Baltimore’s expedition, wrote that on the way over they put in at Monserrat where they found a colony of Irishmen who had been banished from Virginia on account of professing the Catholic Faith (see Old Catholic Maryland, p. 14). The deportation of the Irish to the plantations was so profitable a business that enterprising merchants were soon kidnaping Irish men, women and children to expand the trade. Records show that from 1651 to 1654, 6,400 exiles were sold to English colonies in Barbados and America. The following year, 2,000 more boys and girls were shipped and it was estimated that in the year 1660, 10,000 Irish had been distributed thus among the different English colonies in America (see American Catholic Quarterly Review, IX, 37). Of the total number thus shipped out of Ireland, estimates vary between 60,000 and 100,000 [Lingard, History of England], X (Dolman ed., 1849), p 366.

Many who ended up in theses colonies endured a hell on earth. Women and elderly men were sold first; then the children were dragged kicking and screaming to the auction platform where they were stripped and examined. Rich planters and their wives desired young boys as pages and young girls as servants; however, homosexuals and pedophiles frequented the auctions as well, buying children whose fate would be years of debauchery until they became too old for such purposes and were sold to the brothels of Bridgetown in Barbados for the pleasure of visiting sailors. Worst of all were those children who were part of a cruel plan to develop a ‘master slave’. Irish children were considered trainable, but too susceptible to sunburn to make good workers in the tropical sun; male slaves from Africa were considered strongest, but less trainable. To breed a perfect slave, Irish girls as young as 11 and 12-years old, who had never even seen a black man before, were sent to ‘breeding sheds’ where they were continually impregnated by Mandingo men until they too, by their early twenties, were considered ‘worn out’ and sold to the brothels. When a volcano destroyed part of Montserrat in 1995, files saved from the island’s library documented lineage records of those matings, kept in the same way as pedigrees are kept for dogs and thoroughbred horses.

Of all the many English plantations of Ireland, Cromwell’s, which began 370 years ago this month, was the worst. But, the greatest of all plantations was the plantation of an unforgiving hatred in the hearts of the Irish, for the Irish never permitted themselves to forget it. To this day, the curse of Cromwell on ye remains one of the harshest curses an Irishman can utter.

It was a jovial morning departing from the hotel and a pleasant 90-minute boat trip to the island, but when the massive stone cross came into view, standing as it does on the highest hill on the island, the joy in many eyes turned to meaningful reflection on why it was really there. How many had escaped starvation and disease in their beloved Ireland, reluctantly seeking a new life in America, only to find an American grave just outside the door? I thought of them and those who never even made it that far and a verse that I had written down on my first trip back in 1997 – the 150th anniversary of Black ’47!

Seek me not among the tombstones
for I sleep beneath the waves,
or lie with friends and family
in some lonely unmarked grave.
But remember me each dawning
of the days I’ll never see,
and pray for those that I left mourning,
wondering what became of me.

As we landed, we were greeted by the lonely strains of a piper playing a lament in the background – a nice touch! We saw the weather-beaten old buildings that these poor souls first saw and we were taken on a tour of what they had undergone when they landed. It was a sobering experience. Of course, here and there were commercial distractions such as a film crew interviewing visitors for a documentary to be produced and sold to more visitors and a gift shop where you could buy a rock from the island shellacked and mounted on a piece of wood that had Grosse Ile printed on it. I thought that amusing as I exited the shop, picked up a small rock from the ground, slipped it into my pocket and wandered over to answer the call of an interviewer to tell her why we were really here. She was impressed when I told her we were here not only to pray for our ancestors, but also for the Quebecois (local people) who allowed the orphaned children they adopted to keep their Irish names as a reminder of their heritage. She didn’t know how I knew that, so I didn’t tell her that I had learned that in 1997 from the Mayor of Quebec who was descended from an Irish immigrant who sleeps on the island.

A noon, a Field Mass was held in memory of those who repose on that historic, yet strangely beautiful island. Reminiscent of the Masses held in the hills and glens of Ireland during the Penal Days, it was celebrated adjacent to an acre of white crosses covering approximately 6,000 of our ancestors in one of three cemeteries located on the island. I couldn’t help wondering that if I missed the return boat to Quebec and had to stay there all night, would I see them; what would I say? How would I explain the inhumanity that consigned them to this fate for eternity? Then the bells of the consecration woke me to the reality that they were no longer there, but with the Lord who surely held them as close as I wished I could have. And I envied them, for their heartache was over and the goal we all seek had been realized.

After Mass, we visited a memorial at that mass grave erected by the Canadian government and trekked our way up the hill to the Cross. The hill seemed to be higher than the last time I climbed it, until my equally winded brother, Seamus Boyle, noted that we were 12 years younger then! At the top, the Canadian AOH National President stepped out of the crowd and introduced our American AOH and LAOH National Presidents and they laid a wreath at the base of the largest Celtic Cross in the world. We were then addressed by the Irish Ambassador to Canada. He said, ‘What happened here was a horror,’ and added that among the many people to thank were the clergy, doctors and caregivers who attended the Irish as well as the people of Quebec who adopted the orphans and allowed them to keep their names so that they would never forget their heritage. He was spot on as he thanked the young Parks Canada guides who called the tragedy An Gorta Mor and not the Famine. He added, ‘in Irish, gorta means hunger and everyone familiar with the history knows that in a famine there is no food; in the hunger, there was food available, but sadly it was being exported.’ He also thanked the Canadian government for the recent grant of a million dollars to refurbish historic buildings on the island and noted that the Irish government had donated $75,000 to provide an exhibit and restore the Lazaretto, the only remaining hospital building on the island. ‘But most of all,’ he added, ‘we must thank the AOH both in Canada and the United States for remembering them.’

After the ceremony at the cross, we were free to wander the island until the boat arrived to ferry us back to Quebec. As we got to the bottom of the hill, I said to brother Keith Carney, I hope you got good pictures of that cross, because I’m never climbing that hill again. Of course, we both knew I was kidding. Brother Carney found the name of a relation on the huge memorial wall at the edge of the mass graves. To me, they were all related; I think of them often, not just on August 15th – the day we came to visit them.

Thomas McKean was born in Pennsylvania on 19 March 1734 to William McKean from County Antrim and Letitia Finney McKean whose family also emigrated from Ireland. He became an American lawyer and politician, serving as President of Delaware, Chief Justice and then Governor of Pennsylvania. During the American Revolution, he was a delegate to the Continental Congress where he signed the Declaration of Independence and served as a President of Congress. Thomas McKean led the movement in Delaware for American independence and served as commander of a patriot militia group known as the Pennsylvania Associators. He died on 24 June 1817.

Charles Carroll of Carrollton in Maryland was born on 19 September 1737 and was the only Catholic and the longest-living signatory of the Declaration of Independence, dying at age 95 on 14 November 1832. He was held up by Catholic Americans as proof of their patriotism in an America largely run by a WASP establishment until JFK’s election. He is descended from the Tipperary clan Ó Cearbhail who trace their origin to The Cianachta, a tribe recorded to the third century AD. At the time, Maryland was the only colony tolerant of Catholic immigration, thanks to Lord Baltimore.

James Smith was born in Ireland about 1719 and his family was forced to emigrate to the American colonies due to abuse by landlords. Smith emerged as a leading lawyer of his day and wrote legal opinions denying the constitutional power of Great Britain over the American colonies. He also urged an end to the import of British goods. He raised a militia group in York, PA and joined the American Continental Congress in July 1775, a year before the Declaration was ratified. Smith would become a member of the Continental Congress in 1776 and serve in the War of Independence as a Colonel of Pennsylvania Militia. He died 11 July 1806.

George Taylor was born in Antrim in 1716 and emigrated to the American colonies in 1736. Taylor operated a furnace and was an iron manufacturer in Pennsylvania. He was a member of the Committee of Correspondence from 1774 to 1776 and of the Continental Congress in 1776 and 1777. Taylor is a name common in Ireland since the fourteenth century.

Matthew Thornton was born in Limerick on St. Patrick’s Day, 1713 and came out to America as a four-year-old child in the passage of five ships carrying 120 Irish families from the Bann Valley. He would practice medicine and become active in pre-revolutionary agitation before being elected to become a member of the Continental Congress in 1776. He was a Colonel of New Hampshire Militia from 1775 to 1783. He died on 24 June 1803.

Edward Rutledge was born in Charleston, South Carolina on 23 November 1749 and was the youngest signer of the Declaration of Independence. His father Dr. John Rutledge left Tyrone in 1735 and his sons, John and Edward were elected to the Continental Congress in July 1774. John was later Governor of South Carolina. Edward died on 23 January 1800.

Thomas Lynch Jr. Was the grandson of Jonas Lynch of Galway who was exiled after the defeats at Aughrim and the Boyne. Thomas Jr. was born on 5 August 1749 and named by South Carolina to the Continental Congress as its sixth delegate on 23 March 1776. Although ill, he traveled to Philadelphia to sign the Declaration of Independence. Thomas Lynch Sr. and Thomas Lynch Jr. were the only father and son to serve in the Continental Congress. After signing the Declaration, an ill Thomas Lynch Jr. set out for home with his ailing father. On the way, his father died in Annapolis, MD. Thomas Lynch Jr. retired in early 1777 and after two more years of illness, he sailed for respite to the West Indies in late 1779. The ship disappeared and he was presumed to have died at sea. At the age of 30, he was the youngest signer of the Declaration to die.

George Read was born in Maryland in 1733. He was the son of John Read and Mary Howell Read. John Read was a wealthy resident of Dublin who emigrated to Maryland. When George Read was an infant the family moved to Delaware. As he grew up, Read joined Thomas McKean at an Academy in Pennsylvania and then studied law. In 1763 John Penn, the Proprietary Governor, appointed Read as Crown Attorney General for the three Delaware counties and he served in that position until leaving for the Continental Congress in 1774.

All the 56 signers were brave and daring men and put their lives on the line to give their sons and future Americans the country we have today. Remember them and keep America the way they envisioned it could be.

From 1847 to 1849, about 4,186 people were quarantined “as a precautionary measure to ward off a pestilence that would have been ruinous to the public health and business welfare.” Not all made it off the island! To make matters worse, those who did were not welcomed by Boston’s Yankee population; they had ruled the city since Puritan days and held the anti-Irish, anti-Catholic prejudice of Boston’s founders. The city grew from some 115,000 to more than 150,000 in 1847 alone and the new Irish soon realized that they had escaped the age-old prejudices in Ireland only to confront it again in this new land. They settled in Boston’s North End tenements where conditions were not much better than on the coffin ships. Of children born there at the time, about 60 percent died before the age of six!

On the Saturday of the 2019 Memorial Day weekend, hundreds gathered to dedicate a huge Celtic Cross Memorial on Deer Island to bestow the respect and recognition the Deer Island deceased were denied in life. It was dedicated to the memory of some 1200 laid to rest in unmarked graves on the island between 1847 and 1852 according to City of Boston Archivist John McColgan.

The memorial, which is visible from virtually every point of the harbor’s edge, was the idea of the late Dr. William O’Connell and his wife, the late Rita O’Connell. They wanted the public to know what happened on that island for, as Rita said, “It’s important we don’t forget the stories of people such as Patrick J. McCarthy, who lost his mother, father, and six siblings on Deer Island but went on to graduate from Harvard and become mayor of Providence.”

Calling to mind those who survived brutal conditions crossing the Atlantic only to perish with the new life they sought so near and yet so far, McColgan told the crowd harrowing tales of ordinary people willing to sacrifice anything for a better life, of ships arriving with orphans whose parents starved during the voyage because feeding their children was their priority. He said the Irish immigrants who died on the island, “had become a poignant symbol of famine-era tribulation endured by the unnumbered thousands who suffered trauma, poverty, disease, and death, thanks to a government in London that placed political power and private profit over poor people.”

During the ceremony Mayor Martin J. Walsh, the son of Irish immigrants, saluted those who had worked for a quarter-century to build the memorial, especially the late O’Connells who led the effort. “Like much of Irish culture, this memorial marks profound suffering with remarkable beauty,” he said. “The truth is, it’s unbearably sad to imagine the reality of what happened right here and in Boston Harbor. Children dying of fever in their mothers’ arms; older people ending their lives thousands of miles from the only homes that they had ever known; whole families isolated, bewildered, with no escape but to hold onto each other and to hold onto their faith. Most immigration stories,” he said, “are tales of overcoming adversity. But our city’s story and our country’s story is the story of those who were lost, as well. They took the hardest risks under the worst conditions and suffered the cruelest fates.”

Cardinal Seán Patrick O’Malley, Archbishop of Boston delivered the invocation and blessed those ‘too-long-forgotten burial sites’. He said the occasion was a reminder of “our interdependence and our interconnectedness, how we are connected to one another and connected to the people that died on this island and were buried here.” White doves were released and a wreath was placed in Boston Harbor. Bagpiper Joe Hickey of the Greater Boston Firefighters Pipe & Drum Corps added a poignant touch to the ceremony.

Generally found in the vicinity of a church or monastery, the door of the tower faced the west doorway of the church making it possible to determine without excavation the site of lost churches, where tower remains still exist. Most Round Towers in Ireland are located along the coast and near rivers further supporting the theory that they were protection from Viking raiders. The towers represent an age in which monks, according to the author Thomas Cahill, “saved Western civilization by hiding priceless manuscripts and books in round towers to rescue them from destruction.”

In modern times the Irish Round Tower has become a symbol of unbending cultural preservation and pride. Daniel O’Connell’s tomb at Glasnevin Cemetery had a Round Tower built above it as a memorial 22 years after his death in 1847. There are 198 steps to the top of that 180.5-foot tower and on a clear day you can see as far away as the Cooley Mountains and out to Ireland’s Eye. Even on a grey Dublin day there are panoramic views of the city since Glasnevin is one of the highest points in Dublin. Another ‘revival’ Round Tower was built in 1997 in the Island of Ireland Peace Park in Belgium as a war memorial to the soldiers of Ireland lost or wounded during World War I. That 110-foot replica of an Irish Round Tower was partially built with stone from a former army barracks in Tipperary. The modern Round Towers built as evidence of Irish pride differ in that the entrance is at ground level; they are not limited to Europe either, some have been erected in America.

Father Patrick Cuddihy went to Milford, MA in 1857 to lead St. Mary of the Assumption Parish. He built a Round Tower on church property in 1895 as a reminder of home to those Irish immigrants who settled in Central Massachusetts. They built an extraordinary community based upon their faith, their culture and their desire to make a better life for themselves and their families, according to local historian Paul Curran. The St. Mary’s cemetery tower, which stands 73-feet tall, is made of Milford pink granite and was finished about 1896. The Round Tower stands at the cemetery entrance from Route I-495 to the Blackstone Valley Heritage National Corridor. In Father Cuddihy’s own words, “It may be folly, yet when you and I have passed away; the Irish in America will make a pilgrimage to the Irish Round Tower in Milford.” Yet it is not the only one in America!

In 2001, Irish businessman and racing enthusiast, Tony Ryan, acquired a 200-year old, 1,000+ acre horse farm in Kentucky which he named Castleton Lyons Farm and returned it to its original use as a thoroughbred boarding and breeding farm. In 2002 he decided to add a Round Tower to serve as a beautiful reminder of Ireland. Constructed with fieldstone from the grounds that surround it, the tower is an exact replica of the Round Tower at the Rock of Cashel in Tipperary. The 124.5-foot structure is located in the middle of Castleton Lyons and its 144 winding steps lead to the top with windows along the way that face the north, south, east, and west. The tower can be seen by travelers flying into the Bluegrass Airport from the North and easily seen from the roads adjacent to the farm, especially at night when the tower is completely lit. Each year the farm celebrates St. Patrick’s Day by lighting the Tower in a festive bright green! Since its construction in 2003, the Tower at Castleton Lyons has become a familiar and beloved landmark to many residents and visitors to the Bluegrass State and a reminder of a culture that will never die!

Having determined the city’s defenses were sparse, the next raid took place on Easter Tuesday, 15 April as 200 Luftwaffe bombers attacked military and manufacturing targets. More than 900 lives were lost, 1,500 people were injured, 400 of them seriously. Fifty-thousand houses, more than half the houses in the city, were damaged. Eleven churches, two hospitals and two schools were destroyed. Apart from the raids on London, this was the greatest loss of life in any night raids during the Blitz. The third raid took place on the night of 4–5 May; 150 were killed. Incendiary bombs predominated in this raid. The fourth and final Belfast raid took place on the following night, 5–6 May. In total over 1,300 houses were demolished, some 5,000 badly damaged, nearly 30,000 slightly damaged while 20,000 required repair.

Taoiseach Eamon deValera, head of the Irish government had declared his country’s neutrality during the war, but ordered all Dublin fire brigades, but one, to assist Belfast in putting out the resulting fires. According to David Lawlor on thewildgeese.com (May 28, 2016) Noel Brady on Dublin’s North Strand area heard the drone of a Luftwaffe bomber flying overhead on May 31, 1941 followed by a huge explosion. Noel was 21 at the time and a member of the St John Ambulance Brigade. He grabbed his bicycle and raced to the scene and treated the injured in rubble-strewn streets for the next 12 hours. At least 28 were killed, 90 injured and 300 homes damaged. It was the worst of seven bombings that took place in neutral Ireland during The Emergency. In total, four bombs had been dropped. The first one fell on the suburb of Ballybough, destroying two houses. The second dropped near the President’s residence in the Phoenix Park, shattering some windows, while the third fell on the North Circular Road. Miraculously, nobody was hurt. Reports later described how the German aircraft that dropped the deadly cargo had circled the city for some time, making low passes across what is now Connolly railway station ‘as if awaiting instructions of some sort.’ Historian Liam Murphy noted in thewildgese.com that, ‘In 1971, while in grad school in Dublin, I was told that this bombing of Dublin was intended to send a message to deValera to not send the Dublin Fire Brigade to the North when the Germans were bombing ‘British’ targets.’

Malicious rumors were immediately circulated that the Irish had illuminated their homes in order to guide the Luftwaffe to Britain and some had simply overflown their targets. That was a lie for the Germans had navigation instruments and guidance systems. Later, investigating those rumors with international aircraft pilots, we learned that distance and the curvature of the horizon made such assistance impossible. We further learned that when raids took place on moonlit nights, the Thames River became a ribbon of silver that led German pilots right into London! In addition to slanderous rumors, Churchill, enraged by deValera’s refusal to join the war effort, had imposed restrictions on trade with Ireland to deal a death-blow to the Irish economy. As the Irish introduced rationing of foodstuffs and essential raw materials, Britain even cut the vital supply of agricultural fertilizer! Petrol was cut stopping cars and buses and trains stopped running as the supply of British coal ended. As wheat production waned, an effort to preserve wheat supplies for bread caused the Irish government to restrict the malting of barley and banned the export of beer.

Quite unexpectedly, the British attitude shifted dramatically. It seems that the British army complained to Whitehall of unrest caused by a sudden beer shortage in Belfast. A hasty agreement was drawn up by which Britain would exchange badly needed wheat in exchange for Guinness! Guinness complained that they did not have enough coal to produce beer for an export market. To satisfy the demands of Allied troops north of the border, Britain agreed to release more coal. Slowly but surely, this pattern of barter repeated itself. In January 1942, the first of 300,000 American troops arrived to be stationed in Belfast and Derry during the course of the war. Britain finally agreed to release wheat, coal, fertilizers and agricultural machinery as long as the supply of Guinness was maintained. Thus was Ireland kept afloat (no pun intended) during The Emergency, enabling her to stay neutral.

More than 2,000 claims for compensation resulting from bomb damage were processed by the Irish government, eventually costing £344,000. After the war, West Germany accepted responsibility for the raids and by 1958 paid compensation of £327,000. to the Republic of Ireland using money from America’s Marshal Plan Aid.