Did you know that the first flag officer and founder of the United States Navy was an Irishman?  His name was John Barry and Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, said in his eulogy at Barry’s graveside, “He was born in Ireland, but America was the object of his devotion and the theater of his usefulness.”  Barry was born in Co. Wexford, Ireland in 1745 and grew up with a great love for the sea.  As a young man, he emigrated to the Crown colonies in America and by 1760, he was employed in a shipbuilding firm in Philadelphia.  In 1766, at the age of 21, he went to sea as Captain of the ship, Barbados.  The young Irishman seemed destined for a prosperous career in the colonies, but his integrity and sense of justice led him to risk all in a dangerous venture.

In 1775, years of smoldering unrest erupted in open rebellion as the American colonies declared their independence from the Crown.  As England prepared to regain control, the colonies formed the Second Continental Congress to establish a military force and defend their recently declared independence, but experienced men were hard to find.  Captain John Barry, an early champion of the patriot cause, promptly volunteered his service.  With nine years experience as a seagoing Captain and five successful commands to his credit, the young Irishman was warmly welcomed, and given command of a ship under the authority of the Continental Congress.  On Dec. 7, 1775, Captain John Barry took the helm of a new 14-gun vessel aptly named, Lexington.  He quickly trained a crew and began the task of supplying and supporting Washington’s ground forces.

 On April 7, 1776, he captured the British ship, Edward, and her cargo – the first American war prize.  On June 6, he was given command of the new cruiser, Effingham and captured two more British ships.  Despite Barry’s successes, the war was not going well for the Americans: Philadelphia was in the hands of the British, the British Navy had bottled up the Delaware River, General Benedict Arnold had betrayed West Point, and Washington’s troops were in dire need.  A victory was essential to boost sagging morale.  Barry captured an armed British vessel when ammunition was scarce and a supply ship when food was at a premium.  When Washington planned to cross the Delaware, Barry organized seamen and joined the land forces which crossed at one of the ferries owned by his Irish friend, Patrick Colvin of Co Cavan.  After the Delaware crossing and the subsequent victories at Trenton and Princeton, in which he served as an aide to Washington, Lord Howe made a flattering offer to Barry to desert the patriot cause. “Not the value or command of the whole British fleet” Barry replied, “can lure me from the cause of my country which is liberty and freedom.”  In addition to commanding naval operations for the Continental Congress, Barry supervised the building of their ships.

During a confrontation at sea on May 28, 1781, Barry was wounded and taken below.  His First Officer informed him that the battle was going against them and

Barry ordered to be carried back on deck.  When the British demanded his surrender, Barry defiantly refused and sparked his crew to victory.  The wounded Captain returned with yet another prize.  The last sea battle of the American Revolution took place in March 1783, as Barry was returning with gold from Havana and was set upon by three British ships.  The resourceful Captain engaged and destroyed one and outdistanced the other two, returning with the precious cargo which was used to establish a National Bank for the new nation.

Far from the war at sea, Barry also assisted at the Pennsylvania Convention held in 1787 to adopt the new constitution. During the Convention, a small group, opposed to the adoption of the new constitution, absented themselves, preventing a quorum from being formed.  Barry organized a group called The Compellers’ and physically forced enough of the seceding members back to form a quorum.  The vote was taken, and the constitution was finally approved.  People cheered and church bells rang as Barry scored yet another victory for his adopted nation.  In recognition of his vast experience and dedication, Washington demonstrated Barry’s immense value to the new nation when, on June 14, 1794, he sent for the popular naval hero and charged him with forming and training a class of midshipmen who would then be commissioned as Ensigns and form the nucleus of the new United States Navy.  Barry himself was named the ranking officer and granted Commission number one.

The mists of time have clouded the memory of this great Irish American and the tales of his heroic exploits were forgotten by the general public while the memory of Barry’s good friend and comrade, John Paul Jones, remained prominent.  However, members of the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH) and the Irish Brigade Association began to lobby for proper recognition for America’s early naval hero.  With support from the Naval Reserve Association, the Sons of the Revolution, the Naval Militia Association and Commodore Barry clubs, elected representatives were lobbied and in July 2000, Senator Daniel P Moynihan introduced a Senate resolution to recognize Commodore Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  Several years of lobbying and letter writing led to Peter King introducing a House resolution on March 17, 2005, which became law officially recognizing Commodore John Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  The AOH then organized the erection of Barry Gate and Barry Plaza at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. 

Commodore Barry had many firsts to his credit from being the first to fly the new American flag in battle to escorting America’s ally, General Lafayette, back to France, but the first that he should always be remembered for his position as First Flag Officer and organizer of United States Navy and one of the Irish who helped to shape America.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Some altered their names like the ancestor of John Hancock who came from Co Down, and like Capt. Daniel Patrick and Robert Feake – first European settlers in what is now Greenwich, CT. They also settled in New Hampshire, where they founded the town of Concord; in Vermont, where their sons would lend strength to the Green Mountain Boys led by Irish-American John Stark and Limerick-born Matt Lyons; in New Hampshire where Capt. Maginnis commanded the militia; and other areas from Maine, home of the O’Briens who would capture the 1st British ship in the coming war, to Pennsylvania, founded by William Penn who had grown up in Co Cork. Philadelphia had a Hibernian Club as early as 1729; it later became the Friendly Sons of St Patrick, whose first President was none other than Stephen Moylan of Co Cork – soon to be one of Washington’s top Generals. In just 1772 and 1773, more than 18,500 Irish arrived and they were no friends of British colonialism.

When protest began about Crown usurpation of civil liberties the Irish were prominent. Among those killed in the Boston Massacre in 1770 was Irish-born Patrick Carr; Boston Tea Party participants met at an inn owned by a man named Duggan; and the tea was dumped at Griffin’s Wharf by a group dressed as Native Americans, some of whom had a notably Irish accent. While young Irishmen rushed to arms in support of Washington, Irish merchants participated in the deliberations of Councils and in Congress, raised money to feed and clothe the army and advance the credit of the new government. Irish-born Oliver Pollack personally raised over $300,000 which would be more than $8 million today.

On July 1, 1776, after a full year of hostilities, a resolution was presented to break with England and approval of the final draft of a document was made on the 4^th. The Philadelphia State House was packed as Secretary Charles Thomson of Co. Derry read the document explaining why their action was justified. After a full day of modifying copy, Secretary Thomson recorded the changes, and America’s Declaration of Independence was complete. Among the signers were 6 Irish-Americans and 3 native Irish including James Smith, Matthew Thornton and George Taylor who was also a Colonel in his local militia but, sadly, he died while still a delegate to the Continental Congress.

On July 8, the people first heard that historic document read by Col. John Nixon, son of an Irish immigrant from Wexford; it had been printed at great personal risk by Charles Dunlap of Co Tyrone. There would be many more years of struggle before the last battle was fought on March 10, 1783, but America had made her stand. The last battle, by the way, saw Irish-born John Barry defeat the British ship Sybil. He’d been carrying a cargo of gold with which Congress would establish the new Bank of North America with the help of Irish-born Thomas Fitzsimons.

Yes, the Irish were there at America’s birth and the fact that they made loyal Americans is evidenced in writing of Marquis de Chastellux who wrote after the revolution,

During the whole of the war, the English and Scots were treated with distrust even with the best of attachment for the cause, but the native of Ireland stood in need of no other certificate than his accent. While the Irish emigrant was fighting for America on land and sea, Irish merchant’s purses were always open and their persons devoted to the country’s cause, and on more than one imminent occasion Congress itself, and the very existence of America, owed its preservation to the fidelity and firmness of the Irish. Even President Washington wrote that the Irish need that critical moment to shake off the badges of slavery they have worn for so long.

It was perhaps best said by George Washington Parke Custis, grandson of the beloved first President. At a St. Patrick’s Day dinner in 1828, he said,

Ireland’s generous sons, alike in the day of our gloom, and of our glory, shared in our misfortunes and joined in our successes; With undaunted courage (they) breasted the storm which once threatened to overwhelm us; and with aspirations deep and fervent for our cause, whether in the shock of liberty’s battles, or in the feeble expiring accents of famine and misery, cried from their hearts God Save America. Then honored be the good old service of the sons of Erin in the war of Independence. Let the shamrock be entwined with the laurels of the Revolution, and truth and justice, guiding the pen of history, inscribe on the tablets of American remembrance ‘Eternal Gratitude to Irishmen.’

These are just a few examples of the Irish and Irish-Americans who made America great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2017)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Did you know that the Irish had a major part in the victory on the bloodiest day in American history? It was at Antietam on September 17, 1862, and it was the victory that emboldened President Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation. Foremost among Union forces was the Irish Brigade led by Irish-born Gen. Thomas F Meagher. Their story is an extraordinary chronicle of military valor in America’s cause; once when President Lincoln visited General McClellan’s Union camp, he lifted a corner of the Irish Brigade Flag, kissed it and said Thank God for the Irish!

In early August, the Brigade pursued a Confederate division which halted just before the town of Sharpsburg and turned to await the incoming Union forces on the west side of Antietam Creek. The Irish halted on the east side, where Gen. McClellan set up HQ. Meagher wanted to attack, but McClellan waited for more units, but so did the rebels. By September 17, when McClellan finally ordered an attack, the rebels were in the area, in position, and in strength.

At 6 AM, McClellan sent the 1^st, 12^th, and 2^nd Corps in turn across the Antietam, but held the Irish Brigade back to defend HQ. Anxious to get into battle, Meagher watched as the Union forces broke in retreat, one after the other; At 9 AM McClellan finally sent Meagher’s Irish across the creek. Some gratefully soaked their feet which were so swollen that they couldn’t get boots on; they’d been fighting barefoot. Across the creek was a rise, and beyond the rise was 300 yards of open ground which ended at a sunken road. Over the years, farmer’s traffic had worn the road down so that it was 3 feet below ground level, forming a perfect trench, now filled with Confederate troops who devastated the oncoming Union troops with deadly fire. Meagher ordered his men forward and, as they crested the rise, he rode to their front, drew his sword and shouted, Irish Brigade, Raise the Colors and Follow Me!

The Union wounded, strewn across the field from the morning’s carnage, cheered as from the sunken road was heard, The Irish Brigade is coming. The rebels could hear the Irish cheering as the colors appeared over the top of the rise, first the streamers, then the flags: emerald green, then red, white, and blue. Then the Brigade appeared in a perfect line, as if on parade, rifles at the ready. The rebels rose up in the sunken road, leveled their muskets and fired. Death struck the Irish front. Every rebel bullet seemed to find its mark as the Brigade crossed the field. The emerald banners of the Brigade were special targets and were repeatedly lifted as color bearers were shot down. Capt. Clooney retrieved the colors of the 88th as they fell and was immediately shot in the knee. Using the staff as a crutch, he urged his men on. Shot twice more, he died enshrouded by the emerald silk of his regimental banner. A young private, lifted the flag from Clooney’s body and waved it defiantly at the enemy. The regiment roared its approval and charged into the hail of bullets.

Behind them, Gen. Caldwell led his men crossed the creek. He saw the 63rd and 88th being shot to pieces but, intimidated by the carnage, held back awaiting Gen. Richardson to arrive and take command. The Brigade, now more than 30 minutes in a fierce face-to-face fire-fight, was being cut to pieces. Meagher rode to the rear and pleaded, For God’s sake, come up and help! Col. Barlow replied, I’m truly sorry General, but, my orders are to remain here. Meager angrily rode back into battle and his horse was hit, fell, and rolled onto him leaving him injured. Meagher was carried back to a field hospital, as the ranks of the Brigade slowly diminished and ammunition was running low. There was nothing glorious about this fight, it was a bloody brawl, but Irish gradually got the upper hand. Virtually every rebel officer had been shot and the sunken road that provided them such great cover now looked like a mass grave with rebels covering every square inch of ground. The contest was too much for the rebels; braving the Irish fire, they bolted from the sunken road, and fled to the rear. The remaining Irish began to cheer when suddenly, from beyond the fleeing rebels, came fresh reinforcements! They ran into the sunken road, and straight out the other side charging the Irish. Instead of retreating, the Brigade stood fast, leveled their rifles, and fired into the charging rebels breaking their attack with a single volley. As the rebels regrouped for a counter attack, the surviving Irish looked nervously over their shoulders; where was their relief ?

Meanwhile, Gen. Richardson arrived and found Gen. Caldwell hiding behind a haystack. He cursed Caldwell

and ordered his men to relieve the Irish. The Brigade, still firing into the Confederates to keep them from regrouping, knew that one more attack would finish them. Then, just as the rebels were climbing out of the sunken road, Caldwell’s men entered the field behind them shouting, three cheers for the Irish Brigade. The Irish saw their reinforcements coming up the rise and a sense of pride surged through them. With a roar, they sprang to their weary feet and led the attack with Capt. Joyce shouting, Forward for St. Patrick and Ireland. This was the final blow! The rebels had fired cases of ammunition into the Irish, only to see them attack again and again with incredible arrogance. Now, just when the rebels thought they had them finished, the Irish had the audacity to attack them! The confederates broke and ran. Surrounded by dead and wounded comrades, the Irish stood at the edge of that road so dearly bought, and watched them go. Gen. Richardson, transfixed by the carnage before him, watched as the Irish turned their backs on the fleeing enemy. Then, with their tattered and blood stained flags proudly flying, they formed into ranks, as best they could, and marched down the rise to the cool waters of Antietam Creek amid the cheers of every man in sight. The unattainable sunken road was now the Union front line; that costly barrier that couldn’t be breached had been won by the Irish Brigade, and they gave it the name by which it would evermore be known – Bloody Lane. They were only a few of the Irish who made America great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Did you know that the first flag officer and founder of the United States Navy was an Irishman?  His name was John Barry and Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, said in his eulogy at Barry’s graveside, “He was born in Ireland, but America was the object of his devotion and the theater of his usefulness.”  Barry was born in Co. Wexford, Ireland in 1745 and grew up with a great love for the sea.  As a young man, he emigrated to the Crown colonies in America and by 1760, he was employed in a shipbuilding firm in Philadelphia.  In 1766, at the age of 21, he went to sea as Captain of the ship, Barbados.  The young Irishman seemed destined for a prosperous career in the colonies, but his integrity and sense of justice led him to risk all in a dangerous venture.

In 1775, years of smoldering unrest erupted in open rebellion as the American colonies declared their independence from the Crown.  As England prepared to regain control, the colonies formed the Second Continental Congress to establish a military force and defend their recently declared independence, but experienced men were hard to find.  Captain John Barry, an early champion of the patriot cause, promptly volunteered his service.  With nine years experience as a seagoing Captain and five successful commands to his credit, the young Irishman was warmly welcomed, and given command of a ship under the authority of the Continental Congress.  On Dec. 7, 1775, Captain John Barry took the helm of a new 14-gun vessel aptly named, Lexington.  He quickly trained a crew and began the task of supplying and supporting Washington’s ground forces.

 On April 7, 1776, he captured the British ship, Edward, and her cargo – the first American war prize.  On June 6, he was given command of the new cruiser, Effingham and captured two more British ships.  Despite Barry’s successes, the war was not going well for the Americans: Philadelphia was in the hands of the British, the British Navy had bottled up the Delaware River, General Benedict Arnold had betrayed West Point, and Washington’s troops were in dire need.  A victory was essential to boost sagging morale.  Barry captured an armed British vessel when ammunition was scarce and a supply ship when food was at a premium.  When Washington planned to cross the Delaware, Barry organized seamen and joined the land forces which crossed at one of the ferries owned by his Irish friend, Patrick Colvin of Co Cavan.  After the Delaware crossing and the subsequent victories at Trenton and Princeton, in which he served as an aide to Washington, Lord Howe made a flattering offer to Barry to desert the patriot cause. “Not the value or command of the whole British fleet” Barry replied, “can lure me from the cause of my country which is liberty and freedom.”  In addition to commanding naval operations for the Continental Congress, Barry supervised the building of their ships.

During a confrontation at sea on May 28, 1781, Barry was wounded and taken below.  His First Officer informed him that the battle was going against them and

Barry ordered to be carried back on deck.  When the British demanded his surrender, Barry defiantly refused and sparked his crew to victory.  The wounded Captain returned with yet another prize.  The last sea battle of the American Revolution took place in March 1783, as Barry was returning with gold from Havana and was set upon by three British ships.  The resourceful Captain engaged and destroyed one and outdistanced the other two, returning with the precious cargo which was used to establish a National Bank for the new nation.

Far from the war at sea, Barry also assisted at the Pennsylvania Convention held in 1787 to adopt the new constitution. During the Convention, a small group, opposed to the adoption of the new constitution, absented themselves, preventing a quorum from being formed.  Barry organized a group called The Compellers’ and physically forced enough of the seceding members back to form a quorum.  The vote was taken, and the constitution was finally approved.  People cheered and church bells rang as Barry scored yet another victory for his adopted nation.  In recognition of his vast experience and dedication, Washington demonstrated Barry’s immense value to the new nation when, on June 14, 1794, he sent for the popular naval hero and charged him with forming and training a class of midshipmen who would then be commissioned as Ensigns and form the nucleus of the new United States Navy.  Barry himself was named the ranking officer and granted Commission number one.

The mists of time have clouded the memory of this great Irish American and the tales of his heroic exploits were forgotten by the general public while the memory of Barry’s good friend and comrade, John Paul Jones, remained prominent.  However, members of the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH) and the Irish Brigade Association began to lobby for proper recognition for America’s early naval hero.  With support from the Naval Reserve Association, the Sons of the Revolution, the Naval Militia Association and Commodore Barry clubs, elected representatives were lobbied and in July 2000, Senator Daniel P Moynihan introduced a Senate resolution to recognize Commodore Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  Several years of lobbying and letter writing led to Peter King introducing a House resolution on March 17, 2005, which became law officially recognizing Commodore John Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  The AOH then organized the erection of Barry Gate and Barry Plaza at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. 

Commodore Barry had many firsts to his credit from being the first to fly the new American flag in battle to escorting America’s ally, General Lafayette, back to France, but the first that he should always be remembered for his position as First Flag Officer and organizer of United States Navy and one of the Irish who helped to shape America.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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There were many Irish women among the settlers of the American West, and one of the best known in her time was a lady from County Cork named Ellen Cashman. Ellen came to America, like so many others, fleeing the effects of the Great Hunger.  She arrived in Boston in 1850 with her mother, Fanny, at the tender age of five where she grew up caring for a younger sister.  An ambitious young lady, she worked as a bellhop in a well-known Boston hotel when she decided to follow the call of the American West with the idea of making her fortune.  She moved to San Francisco and soon found employment as a cook at various mining camps.  By 1872, she’d saved enough money to open a miner’s boarding house in Nevada.  In this male-dominated arena, she relied on her courage, faith and a formidable pride in her Irish roots to survive.  It wasn’t long before she was headed for a gold-strike in British Columbia along with 200 Nevada miners.  Described as Pretty as a Victorian cameo and, when necessary, tougher than two-penny nails, the extraordinary Nellie Cashman wandered frontier mining camps of the 1800s seeking gold, silver and a way to help others.

  A devout Catholic, she set up a boarding house for miners, asking for donations to the Sisters of St. Anne in British Columbia in return for the services available at her boarding house.  On a trip to Victoria to deliver $500.00 to the nuns, she heard of 26 miners trapped by a snowstorm in the Cassiar mountains who were suffering from scurvy.  Nellie immediately organized an expedition with six men and collected food and medicines and set off to rescue them.  Conditions in the Mountains were so dangerous at the time that the Canadian Army considered it a foolish venture and sent troops to bring her back.  They found her on the ice of the Stikine River, cooking her evening meal.  She offered the troopers some tea and convinced them that she would not head back without rescuing the men.  After 77 days of trekking through stormy weather, she and her team, pulling 150,000 pounds of food often through 10 feet of snow, found the sick men, but instead of the 26 reported, there were 75.  She nursed them all back to health with a vitamin C diet and endeared herself to the entire mining community earning the first of her many titles, Angel of the Cassiar.  However, when the gold strike petered out, she bid farewell and headed south for the big silver strike in Tucson, Arizona.

  Nellie arrived in Tucson on October 10, 1878.  It was a growing town where Nellie hoped to prosper and she bought, worked and sold mining claims, boarding houses, restaurants and mercantile shops, each one adding to her climb up the ladder to financial security.  In June 1879, just after opening Delmonico’s restaurant and advertising ‘the best meals in town,’ a silver strike in Tombstone turned her head.  Here was a town growing faster than Tucson.  Retaining ownership in the Delmonico, Nellie headed for Tombstone.  There, she opened a shoe store, then a general store and, a year, later she was back in the food business with Tombstone’s Russ House Restaurant.  Among her customers were her fellow Irish-American citizens like the McLowery gang, the Clantons, and the Earps.  Local legend notes that a client once complained about Nellie’s cooking and Doc Holiday, sitting nearby, drew his pistol and asked the man what he’d said.  Looking down the barrel of Doc’s gun, the man said, Best food I ever et.

  Nellie decided that since Tombstone was known as the most lawless town in the west, it needed a dose of religion.  She befriended John Clum, editor of the Tombstone Epitaph and he helped her champion the construction of a Catholic Church and Hospital.  In the meantime, she persuaded the owners of the Crystal Palace Saloon to allow Mass to be held there every Sunday.  During the week, she walked the dusty streets of Tombstone soliciting donations from gamblers, miners, prostitutes, badmen, lawmen and average citizens.  She added her own sizeable contribution and on November 28, 1880, a Catholic Mass was first held at the new Sacred Heart Church; construction of a hospital soon followed.  Nellie’s organizing ability wasn’t limited to Church and Hospital either.  Noting that almost 600 of Tombstone’s residents were native Irish, Nellie organized that town’s first St. Patrick’s Day celebration.  It was a grand Ball held on March 17, 1881. 

  Nellie is remembered today by historians as the Angel of Tombstone, Angel of the Cassair, and Saint of the Sourdoughs, but her contributions were far from over.  Having brought civility to ‘The town too mean to die,’ Nellie moved on to Bisbee, Arizona where she leased the Bisbee Hotel and prospected a while.  She followed the lure of precious metal to towns in Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico.  Wherever she went, her fame preceded her, and everywhere she went she provided financial assistance to Catholic Churches and hospitals.

  In 1898, she pulled up stakes again and headed back to British Columbia, Alaska, and the Yukon.  St.  Joseph’s hospital in Victoria, British Columbia; St Mary’s hospital in Dawson, Alaska and St Matthews’s hospital in Fairbanks, Alaska, all owe their existence in part to Nellie Cashman’s fundraising activities.  Beside her philanthropic fame, she was an astute businesswoman and a fair miner.  There are even stories of her competing in an arctic dog-sled race while in her late sixties.  Her last stop was Victoria, British Columbia, where, on January 25, 1925, she died of pneumonia.  She lies in a plot with the Sisters of St Ann, overlooking Ross Bay.  When asked by a reporter why she never married she said: Why child, I haven’t had time.  Men are a nuisance anyhow, now aren’t they?  They’re just boys grown up.

  Today, the Sacred Heart Church, built in 1880, still stands at the corner of Fifth and Safford Streets in Tombstone Arizona and the Nellie Cashman Restaurant stands nearby behind the adobe walls of her original Russ House.   When Nellie passed, she was buried by the Sisters of St. Ann in British Columbian in gratitude for her kindness.  The epithet on her headstone reads “Friend of the sick and the hungry, and to all men. Heroic apostolate of service among the western and northern frontier miners”.  

A remarkable woman, she is just one more of the many links between Ireland and the American west of which we are so proud.  On March 15, 2006, Nellie Cashman was inducted into the Alaska Mining Hall of Fame.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Let’s take them one at a time.  Some claim St. Patrick to be Italian because he was born in Roman occupied territory, and his name was Patricius.  Sadly, the mists of time have clouded the exact location of his birth, but what is concluded from available evidence is that he was born somewhere in Wales around 386 AD.  Patrick himself wrote that the scene of his youth was Banavem Tiburniae (possibly the town of Tiburnia near Holyhead in western Wales), where his father was a member of the governing body.  Other Welsh sources suggest southern Wales near the Bristol Channel at the mouth of the Severn River.  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 Succat, a Celtic name meaning victorious.  There is, therefore, more evidence to suggest that Patrick was Celtic than any other nationality.  He even identified himself as such in his letter to the British prince, Corocticus.

As for the snakes, although a popular legend, it is scientifically known that there never were any in Ireland, to begin with.  His connection with that legend stems from the Viking misinterpretation of his name.  Paud in the old Norse language meant a toad, and when the Vikings heard of a Saint called Paud-rig, who had lived in Ireland before their coming, they concluded it meant toad-expeller.  That was only the beginning, because the legend was reinforced by the Church’s representation of the Devil in the form of a serpent, and statues of Patrick driving the Devil out of Ireland in that form.  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.  However, Patrick is more revered for what he brought to Ireland than what he drove away.  Yet he was not the first to bring Christianity . . . he was, however, the most effective.

The story began when Patrick was about 16 years old, and Ireland’s High King, Niall of the Nine Hostages, sent warriors to raid the coast of Wales for slaves.  Among the hostages taken was the youth, Succat.  According to tradition, he was taken to Mt. Slemish, Co. Antrim, where he tended the flocks of either a Druid or a Chieftain, according to Ludwig Beiler’s The Life and Legend of St. Patrick.  After six years, Succat escaped following a voice that he heard in his dreams.  He fled to Wexford, found passage, and eventually returned to his family.  There he received his vocation for missionary work in Ireland in three separate dreams – the most notable was one in which the voice of the Irish called to him, “Holy youth, come again and walk among us.”

Succat received religious training at monastic settlements in Gaul, Italy, and the islands of the Tyrrhene Sea.  He was ordained a Deacon by Amator, Bishop of Auxerre about 418 AD, and was consecrated Bishop – receiving the name Patricius – in 432 AD.  At the time, there were a few Christians already in Ireland, but without a central authority and in such isolated areas as an island in Wexford harbor where St. Ibar had established his church and school.

In any case, it is certain that Patrick was in Auxerre in 431, when St. Germanus selected Palladius, a contemporary of Patrick’s, as the first Bishop of Ireland, but that mission was short-lived.  According to the memoirs of Tirechan, a cleric in Meath about 690 AD, Palladius died or left within a year.  Patrick was assigned to replace him in 432.  Working to his advantage was the fact that Patrick knew Irish customs and language from his years in captivity and the fact that he was a Celt.  Patrick never condemned the Irish as idolatrous pagans but appealed to their pride.  He explained their traditions in terms of Christianity and was eventually accepted as one of their own.  He converted key people among the nobility and recruited a native clergy.

He began his missionary work in Ulster, built his first Church at Saul, two miles from Downpatrick, and from there journeyed across the land.  Patrick’s own writings and the writings of his contemporaries show him to have been a missionary of extraordinary zeal, energy, and courage, careless of his own safety in his fervor to `spread the nets for God’.  In his own writings, he mentions this `divine impatience’ as well as describing himself as one of the Irish.  For 29 years, Patrick labored among his beloved Irish, converting and baptizing them by the thousands until his death on March 17, 461 AD.  Tradition establishes that he was buried at Downpatrick where he shares the same grave with Saints Bridget and Columcille who were later interred with him to protect their remains from Viking raiders.  He was recognized as a saint in the 17th century by the extension of his feast day to the universal Church calendar.

However, by all accounts, the most momentous part of his legacy is the form of Christianity he left in Ireland for it inspired a life of sacrifice for the sins of man.  That sacrifice, which became known as ‘white martyrdom’ included prayerful solitude, fasting, tedious transcription of sacred documents, abstinence from worldly pleasures which to some meant dressing in coarse garments and sleeping on hard beds with stone pillows, and most importantly, missionary activity.  It was this devotion which led to Ireland becoming the Isle of Saints and Scholars, the University of Europe and the Lamp of the West; and it was his fervor to spread the nets for God that led future generations of Irish monks to travel the continent as missionaries, bringing the light of learning back into the abyss after the Dark Ages and saving civilization.

This then is the man – the Saint – that we honor in March, and it our duty to see that nothing but praise and reverence are attached to his name.  We may celebrate his memory with joy, but remember his love for the Irish, the tremendous gift of faith that he bestowed upon us and the inspiration he provided which benefitted civilization, and celebrate with reverent joy.  We can begin by replacing all references to Paddy’s Day with the proper name of Saint Patrick’s Day for the difference between Paddy’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day is the same as the difference between the office Christmas Party and Midnight Mass.

Did you know that the first flag officer and founder of the United States Navy was an Irishman?  His name was John Barry and Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, said in his eulogy at Barry’s graveside, “He was born in Ireland, but America was the object of his devotion and the theater of his usefulness.”  Barry was born in Co. Wexford, Ireland in 1745 and grew up with a great love for the sea.  As a young man, he emigrated to the Crown colonies in America and by 1760, he was employed in a shipbuilding firm in Philadelphia.  In 1766, at the age of 21, he went to sea as Captain of the ship, Barbados.  The young Irishman seemed destined for a prosperous career in the colonies, but his integrity and sense of justice led him to risk all in a dangerous venture.

In 1775, years of smoldering unrest erupted in open rebellion as the American colonies declared their independence from the Crown.  As England prepared to regain control, the colonies formed the Second Continental Congress to establish a military force and defend their recently declared independence, but experienced men were hard to find.  Captain John Barry, an early champion of the patriot cause, promptly volunteered his service.  With nine years experience as a seagoing Captain and five successful commands to his credit, the young Irishman was warmly welcomed, and given command of a ship under the authority of the Continental Congress.  On Dec. 7, 1775, Captain John Barry took the helm of a new 14-gun vessel aptly named, Lexington.  He quickly trained a crew and began the task of supplying and supporting Washington’s ground forces.

 On April 7, 1776, he captured the British ship, Edward, and her cargo – the first American war prize.  On June 6, he was given command of the new cruiser, Effingham and captured two more British ships.  Despite Barry’s successes, the war was not going well for the Americans: Philadelphia was in the hands of the British, the British Navy had bottled up the Delaware River, General Benedict Arnold had betrayed West Point, and Washington’s troops were in dire need.  A victory was essential to boost sagging morale.  Barry captured an armed British vessel when ammunition was scarce and a supply ship when food was at a premium.  When Washington planned to cross the Delaware, Barry organized seamen and joined the land forces which crossed at one of the ferries owned by his Irish friend, Patrick Colvin of Co Cavan.  After the Delaware crossing and the subsequent victories at Trenton and Princeton, in which he served as an aide to Washington, Lord Howe made a flattering offer to Barry to desert the patriot cause. “Not the value or command of the whole British fleet” Barry replied, “can lure me from the cause of my country which is liberty and freedom.”  In addition to commanding naval operations for the Continental Congress, Barry supervised the building of their ships.

During a confrontation at sea on May 28, 1781, Barry was wounded and taken below.  His First Officer informed him that the battle was going against them and

Barry ordered to be carried back on deck.  When the British demanded his surrender, Barry defiantly refused and sparked his crew to victory.  The wounded Captain returned with yet another prize.  The last sea battle of the American Revolution took place in March 1783, as Barry was returning with gold from Havana and was set upon by three British ships.  The resourceful Captain engaged and destroyed one and outdistanced the other two, returning with the precious cargo which was used to establish a National Bank for the new nation.

Far from the war at sea, Barry also assisted at the Pennsylvania Convention held in 1787 to adopt the new constitution. During the Convention, a small group, opposed to the adoption of the new constitution, absented themselves, preventing a quorum from being formed.  Barry organized a group called The Compellers’ and physically forced enough of the seceding members back to form a quorum.  The vote was taken, and the constitution was finally approved.  People cheered and church bells rang as Barry scored yet another victory for his adopted nation.  In recognition of his vast experience and dedication, Washington demonstrated Barry’s immense value to the new nation when, on June 14, 1794, he sent for the popular naval hero and charged him with forming and training a class of midshipmen who would then be commissioned as Ensigns and form the nucleus of the new United States Navy.  Barry himself was named the ranking officer and granted Commission number one.

The mists of time have clouded the memory of this great Irish American and the tales of his heroic exploits were forgotten by the general public while the memory of Barry’s good friend and comrade, John Paul Jones, remained prominent.  However, members of the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH) and the Irish Brigade Association began to lobby for proper recognition for America’s early naval hero.  With support from the Naval Reserve Association, the Sons of the Revolution, the Naval Militia Association and Commodore Barry clubs, elected representatives were lobbied and in July 2000, Senator Daniel P Moynihan introduced a Senate resolution to recognize Commodore Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  Several years of lobbying and letter writing led to Peter King introducing a House resolution on March 17, 2005, which became law officially recognizing Commodore John Barry as the First Flag Officer of the U.S. Navy.  The AOH then organized the erection of Barry Gate and Barry Plaza at the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis. 

Commodore Barry had many firsts to his credit from being the first to fly the new American flag in battle to escorting America’s ally, General Lafayette, back to France, but the first that he should always be remembered for his position as First Flag Officer and organizer of United States Navy and one of the Irish who helped to shape America.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Did you know that the Irish had a major part in the victory on the bloodiest day in American history? It was at Antietam on September 17, 1862, and it was the victory that emboldened President Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation. Foremost among Union forces was the Irish Brigade led by Irish-born Gen. Thomas F Meagher. Their story is an extraordinary chronicle of military valor in America’s cause; once when President Lincoln visited General McClellan’s Union camp, he lifted a corner of the Irish Brigade Flag, kissed it and said Thank God for the Irish!

In early August, the Brigade pursued a Confederate division which halted just before the town of Sharpsburg and turned to await the incoming Union forces on the west side of Antietam Creek. The Irish halted on the east side, where Gen. McClellan set up HQ. Meagher wanted to attack, but McClellan waited for more units, but so did the rebels. By September 17, when McClellan finally ordered an attack, the rebels were in the area, in position, and in strength.

At 6 AM, McClellan sent the 1^st, 12^th, and 2^nd Corps in turn across the Antietam, but held the Irish Brigade back to defend HQ. Anxious to get into battle, Meagher watched as the Union forces broke in retreat, one after the other; At 9 AM McClellan finally sent Meagher’s Irish across the creek. Some gratefully soaked their feet which were so swollen that they couldn’t get boots on; they’d been fighting barefoot. Across the creek was a rise, and beyond the rise was 300 yards of open ground which ended at a sunken road. Over the years, farmer’s traffic had worn the road down so that it was 3 feet below ground level, forming a perfect trench, now filled with Confederate troops who devastated the oncoming Union troops with deadly fire. Meagher ordered his men forward and, as they crested the rise, he rode to their front, drew his sword and shouted, Irish Brigade, Raise the Colors and Follow Me!

The Union wounded, strewn across the field from the morning’s carnage, cheered as from the sunken road was heard, The Irish Brigade is coming. The rebels could hear the Irish cheering as the colors appeared over the top of the rise, first the streamers, then the flags: emerald green, then red, white, and blue. Then the Brigade appeared in a perfect line, as if on parade, rifles at the ready. The rebels rose up in the sunken road, leveled their muskets and fired. Death struck the Irish front. Every rebel bullet seemed to find its mark as the Brigade crossed the field. The emerald banners of the Brigade were special targets and were repeatedly lifted as color bearers were shot down. Capt. Clooney retrieved the colors of the 88th as they fell and was immediately shot in the knee. Using the staff as a crutch, he urged his men on. Shot twice more, he died enshrouded by the emerald silk of his regimental banner. A young private, lifted the flag from Clooney’s body and waved it defiantly at the enemy. The regiment roared its approval and charged into the hail of bullets.

Behind them, Gen. Caldwell led his men crossed the creek. He saw the 63rd and 88th being shot to pieces but, intimidated by the carnage, held back awaiting Gen. Richardson to arrive and take command. The Brigade, now more than 30 minutes in a fierce face-to-face fire-fight, was being cut to pieces. Meagher rode to the rear and pleaded, For God’s sake, come up and help! Col. Barlow replied, I’m truly sorry General, but, my orders are to remain here. Meager angrily rode back into battle and his horse was hit, fell, and rolled onto him leaving him injured. Meagher was carried back to a field hospital, as the ranks of the Brigade slowly diminished and ammunition was running low. There was nothing glorious about this fight, it was a bloody brawl, but Irish gradually got the upper hand. Virtually every rebel officer had been shot and the sunken road that provided them such great cover now looked like a mass grave with rebels covering every square inch of ground. The contest was too much for the rebels; braving the Irish fire, they bolted from the sunken road, and fled to the rear. The remaining Irish began to cheer when suddenly, from beyond the fleeing rebels, came fresh reinforcements! They ran into the sunken road, and straight out the other side charging the Irish. Instead of retreating, the Brigade stood fast, leveled their rifles, and fired into the charging rebels breaking their attack with a single volley. As the rebels regrouped for a counter attack, the surviving Irish looked nervously over their shoulders; where was their relief ?

Meanwhile, Gen. Richardson arrived and found Gen. Caldwell hiding behind a haystack. He cursed Caldwell

and ordered his men to relieve the Irish. The Brigade, still firing into the Confederates to keep them from regrouping, knew that one more attack would finish them. Then, just as the rebels were climbing out of the sunken road, Caldwell’s men entered the field behind them shouting, three cheers for the Irish Brigade. The Irish saw their reinforcements coming up the rise and a sense of pride surged through them. With a roar, they sprang to their weary feet and led the attack with Capt. Joyce shouting, Forward for St. Patrick and Ireland. This was the final blow! The rebels had fired cases of ammunition into the Irish, only to see them attack again and again with incredible arrogance. Now, just when the rebels thought they had them finished, the Irish had the audacity to attack them! The confederates broke and ran. Surrounded by dead and wounded comrades, the Irish stood at the edge of that road so dearly bought, and watched them go. Gen. Richardson, transfixed by the carnage before him, watched as the Irish turned their backs on the fleeing enemy. Then, with their tattered and blood stained flags proudly flying, they formed into ranks, as best they could, and marched down the rise to the cool waters of Antietam Creek amid the cheers of every man in sight. The unattainable sunken road was now the Union front line; that costly barrier that couldn’t be breached had been won by the Irish Brigade, and they gave it the name by which it would evermore be known – Bloody Lane. They were only a few of the Irish who made America great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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A TV documentary on the St. Louis World Fair mentions how John Philip Sousa and his band dominated the entertainment, which included a young John McCormack singing at the Irish Pavilion. It brought to mind a forgotten era when American superstars were not individuals with a current hit record, but band leaders – people with the ability to not only play, but compose, arrange, and lead a musical organization. And, in the beginning, America’s first superstars were the leaders of America’s first bands – her marching Brass Bands and though Sousa was certainly one of them, he was not the first.  That honor goes to a man whom Sousa himself admired and whom he called matchless.   He was a man who, in his day, was called America’s Greatest Bandleader, and The Musician of the People.  Sadly, today few remember his name, though most still know his works, and his life story would be a movie of epic proportions.

It began on Christmas Day, 1829, when a boy was born to the Gilmore family in Ballygar, Co. Galway, Ireland  and thus began the remarkable life of Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore. After a difficult childhood, having experienced the horror of Great Hunger in Ireland, he emigrated to America in 1848 at the age of 18. His love of music led him to one of the many Brass Bands that were popular in America at the time, which he joined as a coronet player. He settled in Massachusetts, and eventually became the leader of the Charlestown Brass Band, then the Boston Brigade Band and finally the Salem Brass. In 1856, he started his own band, which he called Gilmore’s Boston Band, and began to change the image of American music. At a time when the prevailing notion was “the louder the brass the better the band,” Gilmore became the first major bandleader in America to conduct brass band arrangements of classics by Mozart, Liszt, and Rossini. When that made everyone sit up and take notice, he extended his repertoire to standard works, one of the most popular of which was his own composition, Seeing Nellie Home,  inspired by his wife Ellen O’Neill, who was organist and choir director at St. Patrick’s Church in Lowell, Mass. Another of his compositions, written for a civil rights leader of the time, was called John Brown’s Body. Most will recognize that as the song to which Julia Ward Howe later rewrote the lyrics to create the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Perhaps his most enduring work was a military march that he wrote to the air of an old Irish anti-war song. Based on the tune, Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya, Gilmore created the classic: When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again.

Despite his great fame as a composer and band leader, his crowning achievements were the organizing and directing of two of the largest music festivals ever held. In 1869, he organized the National Peace Jubilee and later, the World Peace Jubilee. For sheer numbers of performers, nothing has ever surpassed that latter concert which consisted of 2,000 musicians, and a chorus of 20,000 voices. He brought together leading bands from England, France, Germany, Belgium and Ireland. The Irish band, by the way, was one he personally recruited to represent his homeland, after England insisted on sending only one band to represent the Empire, of which Ireland at the time was a part.  Gilmore told the Brits to send an Irish Band or stay home themselves. Such was the power of Gilmore’s name; he not only attracted the world’s best musicians and singers, but he even convinced the renowned waltz king, Johann Strauss, to compose a special piece, The Jubilee Waltz, for the occasion and to make his first trip across the Atlantic to conduct it himself. One of the highlights of the event was the performance of Giuseppe Verdi’s Anvil Chorus, with one hundred Boston firemen hammering out the rhythm on blacksmiths’ anvils.

Shortly after this triumph, Gilmore left Boston for New York, where he became leader of the 22nd Regimental Band of the National Guard. For the next 20 years he concentrated on developing what became universally recognized as simply the greatest band in the world. In 1878, he became the first American bandmaster to make a concert tour of Europe. It was a smashing success. He returned to New York, and took over P.T. Barnum’s old Hippodrome building, and renamed it Gilmore’s Concert Garden. It became the showplace of New York where he played nightly to a full house. If you haven’t guessed yet, when he moved on, it became Madison Square Garden.  Everything this man did was colossal. It was Gilmore who originated the tradition of ringing in New Years in Times Square, it was Gilmore who was musical director for the dedication of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor in 1886, and it was Gilmore who, in 1891 was invited by Thomas Edison to record on wax cylinders, thereby becoming the first band to make commercial recordings. In 1892, Gilmore was named musical director of the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, but while on a national tour that year, he died of a heart attack on Sept 24 at 62 years of age.

He was mourned by the entire nation, and thousands lined the funeral route from his home on Central Park West to St. Xavier’s Church across town and then to his final resting place in Calvary Cemetery in Queens. The great Victor Herbert said that for the hard, but glorious struggle from the old bands of loud brasses and drums which made the most noise possible, to bands which interpret the works of the world’s great composers to satisfy the most exacting musician, most of the glory belonged to Gilmore.  It is sad that although many still know his works, so few remember his name; yet sadder still is that many who do see his name on his compositions don’t even know that P. S. Gilmore was Irish.  Yet he was not only Irish, but one of the Irish who helped to shape America

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2020)

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Did you know that an Irish Catholic Priest Rev. Thomas O’Reilly threatened General Sherman with a mutiny by the Irish Catholics in his army if he torched the church district of Atlanta at the start of his infamous march to the sea and that General Sherman backed down and the entire church district was saved, including the City Hall which stood therein? However, Rev. Peter Whelan was just as courageous in another way. Rev. Whelan distinguished himself as a chaplain for the Montgomery Guards, an Irish company established in Savannah for the First Georgia Volunteer Regiment named for America’s first hero: Irish-born Revolutionary General Richard Montgomery. Previously he had been the administrator of the diocese of Savannah where the majority of his parishioners were poor Irish immigrants.   In 1862, his unit was bombarded into surrender by Union forces and though he was offered freedom, Rev. Whelan chose to remain with as chaplain to the prisoners. They were transported to Governor’s Island, NY where meager rations, few latrines and inadequate heating and ventilation soon had the prisoner suffering from pneumonia and typhus. Food and clean clothing were needed so Rev. Whelan wrote to Rev. William Quinn of St. Peter’s Church on Barclay Street, NY. Rev. Quinn, fearing that the damp, cold prison would seriously harm the 60-year-old Rev. Whelan’s health, secured a parole for him. However, except for an occasional trip to the city to procure necessities for the men, Whelan remained at the prison, saying Mass each morning, visiting the sick, giving encouragement and spiritual guidance to those in need.

On June 20, 1862, a prisoner exchange was arranged and the men were sent to Richmond. Rev. Whelan arrived with the sick on August 8 and was unconditionally released. Upon his return to Savannah, he resumed his post as Vicar General. In May 1864, a missionary priest stopped in to Andersonville prison where Union prisoners were held to see how many Catholics were there. What he saw staggered him and he asked that a priest be provided immediately. The Bishop of Georgia asked Rev. Whelan to go and the 62-year-old priest agreed. He arrived at Andersonville in June – the hottest time of the year and the period of the highest mortality. The camp was like nothing he had ever seen.

The stockade sloped down on both sides to a small stream about a yard wide and foot deep. With no arrangement for sewage disposal, this creek provided water for drinking, cooking, and bathing! Into the creek was also thrown the waste of two nearby Confederate camps as well as the grease and garbage from the cookhouse. The slow-flowing stream soon became a mass of thick pollution. In the center of the camp was a swamp, part of which had been used by the prisoners as a toilet and excrement covered the ground; the smell was suffocating! Some of the very sick who were unable to extricate themselves from the muck along the creek had to relieve themselves there making the creek a further source of disease for all. The prisoners numbered 33,000 when it should have held no more than 10,000. Whelan requested help and each priest who came only lasted about two weeks before giving up.

In late August, as Union General Sherman was about to enter Atlanta, some Union prisoners were transferred to Savannah and Charleston. By late September, Rev. Whelan decided to follow them, but before he left, he contacted a restaurant owner in Macon and borrowed $16,000. He purchased 10,000 pounds of wheat flour, had it baked into bread and distributed it at the prison. The prisoners called it Whelan’s bread and it provided the men with rations for several months. One former prisoner later wrote, without a doubt he was the means of saving hundreds of lives.  Another Union prisoner recorderd “ Of all the ministers in Georgia accessible to Andersonville, only one could hear this sentence, ‘I was sick and in prison and you visited me,’ and that one is a Catholic.”

Whelan returned to Savannah suffering from a lung ailment contracted at Andersonville. He wrote to Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, asking for money to pay back the loan he made to provide bread for Union prisoners as the man from whom he’d borrowed was sick himself and needed the money. Stanton replied that he needed sworn bills of purchase for the flour. Whelan told Stanton to keep the money because he had neither the health nor the strength to run over Georgia to hunt up bills of purchase. He said that God would provide – and in a way He did. Due to his worsening health, doctors advised him to go north to a drier climate. Friends provided him with the funds to make the trip but, preferring justice to health; Rev. Whelan used the money to repay his debt. Rev. Whelan’s last days were as pastor of St. Patrick’s in Savannah where he died on February 6, 1871, at the age of 69. The Savannah Evening News described his funeral procession as the longest ever seen in the city. His splendid iron casket was ornamented with full-size silver roses and a wreath of laurel. 86 carriages escorted the body through the crowded streets to the cemetery. People from all over the city turned out to bid farewell to this beloved priest – Catholic and non-Catholic alike – for he was a true shepherd to those in need, Confederate and Union alike regardless of faith, and a true American hero. He was also one of the Irish who made America great.

Mike McCormack, National Historian (reprinted from 2019)

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There were many Irish women among the settlers of the American West, and one of the best known in her time was a lady from County Cork named Ellen Cashman. Ellen came to America, like so many others, fleeing the effects of the Great Hunger.  She arrived in Boston in 1850 with her mother, Fanny, at the tender age of five where she grew up caring for a younger sister.  An ambitious young lady, she worked as a bellhop in a well-known Boston hotel when she decided to follow the call of the American West with the idea of making her fortune.  She moved to San Francisco and soon found employment as a cook at various mining camps.  By 1872, she’d saved enough money to open a miner’s boarding house in Nevada.  In this male-dominated arena, she relied on her courage, faith and a formidable pride in her Irish roots to survive.  It wasn’t long before she was headed for a gold-strike in British Columbia along with 200 Nevada miners.  Described as Pretty as a Victorian cameo and, when necessary, tougher than two-penny nails, the extraordinary Nellie Cashman wandered frontier mining camps of the 1800s seeking gold, silver and a way to help others.

  A devout Catholic, she set up a boarding house for miners, asking for donations to the Sisters of St. Anne in British Columbia in return for the services available at her boarding house.  On a trip to Victoria to deliver $500.00 to the nuns, she heard of 26 miners trapped by a snowstorm in the Cassiar mountains who were suffering from scurvy.  Nellie immediately organized an expedition with six men and collected food and medicines and set off to rescue them.  Conditions in the Mountains were so dangerous at the time that the Canadian Army considered it a foolish venture and sent troops to bring her back.  They found her on the ice of the Stikine River, cooking her evening meal.  She offered the troopers some tea and convinced them that she would not head back without rescuing the men.  After 77 days of trekking through stormy weather, she and her team, pulling 150,000 pounds of food often through 10 feet of snow, found the sick men, but instead of the 26 reported, there were 75.  She nursed them all back to health with a vitamin C diet and endeared herself to the entire mining community earning the first of her many titles, Angel of the Cassiar.  However, when the gold strike petered out, she bid farewell and headed south for the big silver strike in Tucson, Arizona.

  Nellie arrived in Tucson on October 10, 1878.  It was a growing town where Nellie hoped to prosper and she bought, worked and sold mining claims, boarding houses, restaurants and mercantile shops, each one adding to her climb up the ladder to financial security.  In June 1879, just after opening Delmonico’s restaurant and advertising ‘the best meals in town,’ a silver strike in Tombstone turned her head.  Here was a town growing faster than Tucson.  Retaining ownership in the Delmonico, Nellie headed for Tombstone.  There, she opened a shoe store, then a general store and, a year, later she was back in the food business with Tombstone’s Russ House Restaurant.  Among her customers were her fellow Irish-American citizens like the McLowery gang, the Clantons, and the Earps.  Local legend notes that a client once complained about Nellie’s cooking and Doc Holiday, sitting nearby, drew his pistol and asked the man what he’d said.  Looking down the barrel of Doc’s gun, the man said, Best food I ever et.

  Nellie decided that since Tombstone was known as the most lawless town in the west, it needed a dose of religion.  She befriended John Clum, editor of the Tombstone Epitaph and he helped her champion the construction of a Catholic Church and Hospital.  In the meantime, she persuaded the owners of the Crystal Palace Saloon to allow Mass to be held there every Sunday.  During the week, she walked the dusty streets of Tombstone soliciting donations from gamblers, miners, prostitutes, badmen, lawmen and average citizens.  She added her own sizeable contribution and on November 28, 1880, a Catholic Mass was first held at the new Sacred Heart Church; construction of a hospital soon followed.  Nellie’s organizing ability wasn’t limited to Church and Hospital either.  Noting that almost 600 of Tombstone’s residents were native Irish, Nellie organized that town’s first St. Patrick’s Day celebration.  It was a grand Ball held on March 17, 1881. 

  Nellie is remembered today by historians as the Angel of Tombstone, Angel of the Cassair, and Saint of the Sourdoughs, but her contributions were far from over.  Having brought civility to ‘The town too mean to die,’ Nellie moved on to Bisbee, Arizona where she leased the Bisbee Hotel and prospected a while.  She followed the lure of precious metal to towns in Wyoming, Montana, and New Mexico.  Wherever she went, her fame preceded her, and everywhere she went she provided financial assistance to Catholic Churches and hospitals.

  In 1898, she pulled up stakes again and headed back to British Columbia, Alaska, and the Yukon.  St.  Joseph’s hospital in Victoria, British Columbia; St Mary’s hospital in Dawson, Alaska and St Matthews’s hospital in Fairbanks, Alaska, all owe their existence in part to Nellie Cashman’s fundraising activities.  Beside her philanthropic fame, she was an astute businesswoman and a fair miner.  There are even stories of her competing in an arctic dog-sled race while in her late sixties.  Her last stop was Victoria, British Columbia, where, on January 25, 1925, she died of pneumonia.  She lies in a plot with the Sisters of St Ann, overlooking Ross Bay.  When asked by a reporter why she never married she said: Why child, I haven’t had time.  Men are a nuisance anyhow, now aren’t they?  They’re just boys grown up.

  Today, the Sacred Heart Church, built in 1880, still stands at the corner of Fifth and Safford Streets in Tombstone Arizona and the Nellie Cashman Restaurant stands nearby behind the adobe walls of her original Russ House.   When Nellie passed, she was buried by the Sisters of St. Ann in British Columbian in gratitude for her kindness.  The epithet on her headstone reads “Friend of the sick and the hungry, and to all men. Heroic apostolate of service among the western and northern frontier miners”.  

A remarkable woman, she is just one more of the many links between Ireland and the American west of which we are so proud.  On March 15, 2006, Nellie Cashman was inducted into the Alaska Mining Hall of Fame.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Did you know that the first Gold Medal winner in modern Olympic history was the son of Irish immigrant parents and that Irish athletes dominated Olympic track and field events for the U.S. for the first two decades of the 20th century? The first to win was James Connolly, and he was born on October 28, 1868, in an impoverished section of South Boston. He grew up with a love of sports and when an International Olympic Committee resurrected the ancient Olympic Games to be held in Athens in April 1896, Connolly requested a leave of absence from Harvard to participate and left for Greece. After arriving in Naples, he was robbed and had to take a later train; he arrived just in time for the Games but too late for practice. The first event on opening day was the triple jump, involving three successive jumps.

It was one of the original competitions in the Ancient Greek Olympics. In Ireland, the geal-ruith (triple jump) was also an ancient event, contested in Irish games as early as 1800 BC. Connolly entered and finished more than a meter ahead of his nearest opponent by jumping 44′ 11″. He became the first Olympic champion since 385 AD receiving a First Place Silver medal since Gold medals were not yet established. He went on to take second place in the high jump (5′ 5″) and third place in the long jump (19′ 2″). As for the rest of his team, a total of 14 athletes from the US competed and were the most successful nation with 11 First Place medals. Overall, the American team had 27 entries in 16 events, with 20 of the 27 finishing in the top three places. Back home, the team was welcomed enthusiastically, and Connolly was presented with a gold watch by the citizens of South Boston. After he died in New York on Jan 20, 1957 at age 88, a book on the 1896 Olympics recorded that, James Connolly became the first known Olympic champion since Zopyros of Athens in the 291^st Olympic games held in 385 AD. His memorabilia, including the initial First Place medal in modern Olympic history, is housed in the library of Colby College, Maine.

Connolly inspired more Irish into the Olympics on America’s behalf since Ireland at the time was under Britain and they refused to compete for the Crown. Between 1896 and 1924, a group dubbed by the newspapers as the “Irish Whales” because of their large, muscular appearance won everything from Amateur Athletic Union national championships to the Olympic Games. The Irish Whales were John J Flanagan and Paddy Ryan of Limerick, James Mitchell and Matt McGrath of Tipperary, Pat McDonald of Clare and Martin Sheridanof Mayo.  Sheridan at 6’3″ and 194 pounds was the lightest but what he lacked in girth, he made up for with his athletic accomplishments, winning nine Olympic medals. Matt McGrath was 6′ tall and 248 pounds; Flanagan was about the same. Paddy Ryan was 6′ 5″ and 296, and Pat McDonald was 6′ 5″ and 300 pounds. They were all members of the Irish American Athletic Club, the NY Athletic Club and, except for Ryan, were all members of the NYC Police Department.

Arthur Daly in the New York Times wrote that they got their nicknames on the train trip to the Olympics of 1912 in Sweden. He wrote. Those big fellows all sat at the same table and their waiter was a small chap. Before we reached Stockholm he had lost twenty pounds, worn down by bringing them food. Once, as he passed me, he muttered under his breath, ‘It’s whales they are, not men.’ They used to take five plates of soup as a starter and then gulp down three or four steaks with trimmings.

Flanagan won Gold in 1900, 04 and 08 and Silver in 04; in the 1908 Olympics in London, he broke his own record with a hammer throw of 170 feet, 4.5 inches; the Silver went to the former record holder Matt McGrath. Flanagan later returned to Ireland upon the death of his father. McGrath won Gold in 1912 setting a record that stood for 24 years and in 1924 won Silver setting an unbroken record for the oldest person ever to win an Olympic medal. Mitchell won Bronze in 1904, and Martin Sheridan won Gold 5 times in 1904, 06 and 08.

Perhaps the most memorable legacy of these great athletes was set at the 1908 Olympics held in London where many medals were won by Irish athletes representing America, not the least of which were the Irish Whales. During the Parade of Nations, it was customary for teams to dip their nation’s flags in a show of respect as they passed the ruling monarch of the host country. Martin Sheridan of the American Olympic team was scheduled to carry the American flag. Everyone knew Sheridan held a grudge against the English because of the Great Hunger 60 years earlier so coaches of the Olympic committee replaced Sheridan with Ralph Rose as flag bearer. It should be noted that these Irish athletes also had a strong sense of patriotic pride to their newly adopted country and as the American team approached the Royal Box, Matt McGrath broke ranks and stepped up to the American flag bearer and said, Dip that flag and you will be in a hospital tonight. The flag was not dipped and it caused an international incident. During a news conference later, Martin Sheridan spoke for the entire Olympic team when he pointed to the American flag and said, That flag dips to no earthly king. A precedent was set that is followed to this day. During the Olympic Games or on any occasion on land or at sea, the American Flag has never been dipped to anyone since that day in 1908. In fact on June 14, 1923, the U.S. Flag Code was adopted to read, No disrespect should be shown to the flag of the United States of America; the flag should not be dipped to any person or thing. Now, June 14 is remembered as Flag Day and you can look for that historic moment to be repeated at future Olympic opening ceremonies thanks to an Irishman. They were just a few of the Irish who helped to make America great. America’s Irish continued to dominate Olympic throwing events until the 1928 Olympics when the U.S. lost for the first time in the hammer throw event. They lost to an Irishman, Dr. Patrick O’Callaghan, who was competing for the new Irish Free State. He had been trained by John J Flanagan – one of the whales who had gone home!

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2018)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth

DID YOU KNOW that in the annals of America’s heroes, there is scarcely a brighter entry than that of the fighting Sullivan brothers?  Born in Waterloo, Iowa to Railroad conductor Tom Sullivan and his wife Alleta, George, Francis, Albert, Joseph, and Madison grew up the best of friends in the closeness of an Irish family and matured into patriotic Americans. It was no surprise, therefore, that when Pearl Harbor was attacked, the Sullivan brothers headed straight for the nearest U.S. Navy recruiting office.

Navy policy discouraged family members from serving together, but the Sullivans were determined that nobody would split them up. If the Navy wouldn’t take them, they would try somewhere else. With the demand for recruitment high, and five healthy young Irish-Americans offering to serve, the request was granted, and on Jan 3, 1942, they enlisted. Later, George tried to explain their decision to their mother. His words were tragically prophetic; he said, If worse comes to worst, at least we’ll go down together. In less than a year the worst came to pass.

On the morning of Nov 13, 1942, during the battle of Guadalcanal, east of the Solomon Islands in the South Pacific, the Sullivans were aboard the USS Juneau when she was hit by a torpedo in her forward engine room. Minutes later another shot hit her weapons magazine. In a violent blinding flash, the ship erupted. In 42 seconds she sank in shark-infested waters; only 10 of her 711 crew members were rescued; the Sullivans were not among them! The sinking of the Juneau was one of the most tragic losses of the war, but the loss of the five brothers shocked the nation.

It was the greatest military loss by any one American family during World War II. The Waterloo Courier reported that, In the history of the Navy, no mother has received a blow as severe as that which has come to this mother. Mrs. Alleta Sullivan endured her sorrow by helping other families overcome their own personal tragedies. Helping others in sorrow kills your own sorrow, she told a reporter. Condolences poured in from every level of society, Presidential letters and visits and even Congressional resolutions could not ease the pain that the nation felt. Hollywood even immortalized the boys in a full-length feature film: The Fighting Sullivans that left those who saw it teary-eyed.

The ultimate tribute, however, came in April 1943 when the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Company invited Mrs. Sullivan to christen the U.S. Navy’s new Fletcher-class destroyer, the USS Sullivans (DD537).  It would be a fighting memorial to her sons. The USS Sullivans was the first ship ever commissioned to honor more than one person. The Sullivans were on the sea once more. The USS Sullivans received nine battle stars for service in World War II and two more for service in the Korean action.

On 7 January 1965, USS Sullivans was decommissioned but remained in reserve into the 1970s. In 1977, she was donated to the Buffalo and Erie County Naval & Military Park in Buffalo, NY as a public memorial. It was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1986 and today, the decommissioned USS Sullivans sits proudly at Buffalo’s Naval Park with her shamrock flag still waving from her mainmast and a brass plaque on her quarterdeck recalling the vow of the five Sullivan brothers – We stick together!  However, that’s not the end of the story.

The USS The Sullivans (DDG-68), Arleigh Burke-class Aegis guided-missile destroyer was launched on 12 August 1995. She was christened by Kelly Ann Sullivan Loughren, the granddaughter of Albert Sullivan – one of the brothers. This newest ship to carry the Sullivans’ name was officially commissioned on 19 April 1997 and still carries the name of the five Sullivan brothers across the seas with her official motto: We Stick Together commemorating just a few of the Irish-Americans who made America Great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2017)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth #EmbraceYourIrishHeritageAOH

Note: Appropriately on St. Patrick’s Day March 17, 2018 the crew of Research Vessel (R/V) Petrel discovered the wreckage of the Sulivans’s USS Juno after being lost for more than 75 years 

Let’s take them one at a time.  Some claim St. Patrick to be Italian because he was born in Roman occupied territory, and his name was Patricius.  Sadly, the mists of time have clouded the exact location of his birth, but what is concluded from available evidence is that he was born somewhere in Wales around 386 AD.  Patrick himself wrote that the scene of his youth was Banavem Tiburniae (possibly the town of Tiburnia near Holyhead in western Wales), where his father was a member of the governing body.  Other Welsh sources suggest southern Wales near the Bristol Channel at the mouth of the Severn River.  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 Succat, a Celtic name meaning victorious.  There is, therefore, more evidence to suggest that Patrick was Celtic than any other nationality.  He even identified himself as such in his letter to the British prince, Corocticus.

As for the snakes, although a popular legend, it is scientifically known that there never were any in Ireland, to begin with.  His connection with that legend stems from the Viking misinterpretation of his name.  Paud in the old Norse language meant a toad, and when the Vikings heard of a Saint called Paud-rig, who had lived in Ireland before their coming, they concluded it meant toad-expeller.  That was only the beginning, because the legend was reinforced by the Church’s representation of the Devil in the form of a serpent, and statues of Patrick driving the Devil out of Ireland in that form.  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.  However, Patrick is more revered for what he brought to Ireland than what he drove away.  Yet he was not the first to bring Christianity . . . he was, however, the most effective.

The story began when Patrick was about 16 years old, and Ireland’s High King, Niall of the Nine Hostages, sent warriors to raid the coast of Wales for slaves.  Among the hostages taken was the youth, Succat.  According to tradition, he was taken to Mt. Slemish, Co. Antrim, where he tended the flocks of either a Druid or a Chieftain, according to Ludwig Beiler’s The Life and Legend of St. Patrick.  After six years, Succat escaped following a voice that he heard in his dreams.  He fled to Wexford, found passage, and eventually returned to his family.  There he received his vocation for missionary work in Ireland in three separate dreams – the most notable was one in which the voice of the Irish called to him, “Holy youth, come again and walk among us.”

Succat received religious training at monastic settlements in Gaul, Italy, and the islands of the Tyrrhene Sea.  He was ordained a Deacon by Amator, Bishop of Auxerre about 418 AD, and was consecrated Bishop – receiving the name Patricius – in 432 AD.  At the time, there were a few Christians already in Ireland, but without a central authority and in such isolated areas as an island in Wexford harbor where St. Ibar had established his church and school.

In any case, it is certain that Patrick was in Auxerre in 431, when St. Germanus selected Palladius, a contemporary of Patrick’s, as the first Bishop of Ireland, but that mission was short-lived.  According to the memoirs of Tirechan, a cleric in Meath about 690 AD, Palladius died or left within a year.  Patrick was assigned to replace him in 432.  Working to his advantage was the fact that Patrick knew Irish customs and language from his years in captivity and the fact that he was a Celt.  Patrick never condemned the Irish as idolatrous pagans but appealed to their pride.  He explained their traditions in terms of Christianity and was eventually accepted as one of their own.  He converted key people among the nobility and recruited a native clergy.

He began his missionary work in Ulster, built his first Church at Saul, two miles from Downpatrick, and from there journeyed across the land.  Patrick’s own writings and the writings of his contemporaries show him to have been a missionary of extraordinary zeal, energy, and courage, careless of his own safety in his fervor to `spread the nets for God’.  In his own writings, he mentions this `divine impatience’ as well as describing himself as one of the Irish.  For 29 years, Patrick labored among his beloved Irish, converting and baptizing them by the thousands until his death on March 17, 461 AD.  Tradition establishes that he was buried at Downpatrick where he shares the same grave with Saints Bridget and Columcille who were later interred with him to protect their remains from Viking raiders.  He was recognized as a saint in the 17th century by the extension of his feast day to the universal Church calendar.

However, by all accounts, the most momentous part of his legacy is the form of Christianity he left in Ireland for it inspired a life of sacrifice for the sins of man.  That sacrifice, which became known as ‘white martyrdom’ included prayerful solitude, fasting, tedious transcription of sacred documents, abstinence from worldly pleasures which to some meant dressing in coarse garments and sleeping on hard beds with stone pillows, and most importantly, missionary activity.  It was this devotion which led to Ireland becoming the Isle of Saints and Scholars, the University of Europe and the Lamp of the West; and it was his fervor to spread the nets for God that led future generations of Irish monks to travel the continent as missionaries, bringing the light of learning back into the abyss after the Dark Ages and saving civilization.

This then is the man – the Saint – that we honor in March, and it our duty to see that nothing but praise and reverence are attached to his name.  We may celebrate his memory with joy, but remember his love for the Irish, the tremendous gift of faith that he bestowed upon us and the inspiration he provided which benefitted civilization, and celebrate with reverent joy.  We can begin by replacing all references to Paddy’s Day with the proper name of Saint Patrick’s Day for the difference between Paddy’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day is the same as the difference between the office Christmas Party and Midnight Mass.

Some altered their names like the ancestor of John Hancock who came from Co Down, and like Capt. Daniel Patrick and Robert Feake – first European settlers in what is now Greenwich, CT. They also settled in New Hampshire, where they founded the town of Concord; in Vermont, where their sons would lend strength to the Green Mountain Boys led by Irish-American John Stark and Limerick-born Matt Lyons; in New Hampshire where Capt. Maginnis commanded the militia; and other areas from Maine, home of the O’Briens who would capture the 1st British ship in the coming war, to Pennsylvania, founded by William Penn who had grown up in Co Cork. Philadelphia had a Hibernian Club as early as 1729; it later became the Friendly Sons of St Patrick, whose first President was none other than Stephen Moylan of Co Cork – soon to be one of Washington’s top Generals. In just 1772 and 1773, more than 18,500 Irish arrived and they were no friends of British colonialism.

When protest began about Crown usurpation of civil liberties the Irish were prominent. Among those killed in the Boston Massacre in 1770 was Irish-born Patrick Carr; Boston Tea Party participants met at an inn owned by a man named Duggan; and the tea was dumped at Griffin’s Wharf by a group dressed as Native Americans, some of whom had a notably Irish accent. While young Irishmen rushed to arms in support of Washington, Irish merchants participated in the deliberations of Councils and in Congress, raised money to feed and clothe the army and advance the credit of the new government. Irish-born Oliver Pollack personally raised over $300,000 which would be more than $8 million today.

On July 1, 1776, after a full year of hostilities, a resolution was presented to break with England and approval of the final draft of a document was made on the 4^th. The Philadelphia State House was packed as Secretary Charles Thomson of Co. Derry read the document explaining why their action was justified. After a full day of modifying copy, Secretary Thomson recorded the changes, and America’s Declaration of Independence was complete. Among the signers were 6 Irish-Americans and 3 native Irish including James Smith, Matthew Thornton and George Taylor who was also a Colonel in his local militia but, sadly, he died while still a delegate to the Continental Congress.

On July 8, the people first heard that historic document read by Col. John Nixon, son of an Irish immigrant from Wexford; it had been printed at great personal risk by Charles Dunlap of Co Tyrone. There would be many more years of struggle before the last battle was fought on March 10, 1783, but America had made her stand. The last battle, by the way, saw Irish-born John Barry defeat the British ship Sybil. He’d been carrying a cargo of gold with which Congress would establish the new Bank of North America with the help of Irish-born Thomas Fitzsimons.

Yes, the Irish were there at America’s birth and the fact that they made loyal Americans is evidenced in writing of Marquis de Chastellux who wrote after the revolution,

During the whole of the war, the English and Scots were treated with distrust even with the best of attachment for the cause, but the native of Ireland stood in need of no other certificate than his accent. While the Irish emigrant was fighting for America on land and sea, Irish merchant’s purses were always open and their persons devoted to the country’s cause, and on more than one imminent occasion Congress itself, and the very existence of America, owed its preservation to the fidelity and firmness of the Irish. Even President Washington wrote that the Irish need that critical moment to shake off the badges of slavery they have worn for so long.

It was perhaps best said by George Washington Parke Custis, grandson of the beloved first President. At a St. Patrick’s Day dinner in 1828, he said,

Ireland’s generous sons, alike in the day of our gloom, and of our glory, shared in our misfortunes and joined in our successes; With undaunted courage (they) breasted the storm which once threatened to overwhelm us; and with aspirations deep and fervent for our cause, whether in the shock of liberty’s battles, or in the feeble expiring accents of famine and misery, cried from their hearts God Save America. Then honored be the good old service of the sons of Erin in the war of Independence. Let the shamrock be entwined with the laurels of the Revolution, and truth and justice, guiding the pen of history, inscribe on the tablets of American remembrance ‘Eternal Gratitude to Irishmen.’

These are just a few examples of the Irish and Irish-Americans who made America great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2017)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth #EmbraceYourIrishHeritageAOH

Then, the Union ship Housatonic was sunk by the Confederate underwater craft Hunley. Though it was unstable and sunk with its entire crew, it verified the importance of Holland’s ideas. Unable to promote interest in Ireland, he left the Christian Brothers and came to America in 1872. He found employment in St. John’s School in Paterson, New Jersey. In 1875, he offered his plan for a submersible boat to the U.S. Navy, but it was rejected as a “fantastic scheme.” He was sure if he could raise the money for a prototype vessel, he could convince the skeptics, but money was hard to find. In 1876, as his brother and other patriotic young Irishmen had done before him, Holland joined the Fenian Brotherhood, a rebel organization dedicated to freeing Ireland from British rule. Here he found interest in his plans for a weapon that could sink the British Navy. Delighted with the prospect of striking a blow for Ireland, the Fenians financed Holland’s project. He constructed a prototype and in 1878 the 14-foot, one-man, Holland I slipped beneath the waves of the Passaic River. Impressed, the Fenians provided $23,000 for a full-sized version. In 1881, Holland completed a 31-foot, 3-man submarine of 20-tons displacement complete with a torpedo tube and fittings for armaments. Spectators stared as the sub went through its trials, and newsmen dubbed it ‘The Fenian Ram’’ in recognition of its origin and purpose. Holland continued to test and refine his design. In 1882, an impatient Fenian leader, John Breslin, stole the Ram and took it to New Haven to be launched; unfortunately, with no knowledge of its operation, it sank, and the project was abandoned.

Holland kept trying the U.S. Government, and in 1895, he finally won a $150,000. U.S. Navy contract to build a submarine, but the Navy insisted on alterations which Holland said would make it a failure. So, while building a sub to their specifications, the headstrong inventor also built the 53-foot, 63-ton, Holland VI to his own specifications. After the predicted failure of the Navy design, Holland floated out his alternative vessel. The trials took place at New Suffolk on Long Island, NY and were a total success. In 1900, Holland VI became the U.S.S. Holland – the first American submarine, and the Holland Torpedo Boat Company received an order for six more.

The brainchild of the tenacious Irish immigrant became the prototype for the greatest submarine fleet in the world and financier Isaac Rice, and others backed Holland forming the Electric Boat Company in Groton, Connecticut, later a division of General Dynamics. Rice dealt with both the U.S. and British governments, selling them the original patents much to the chagrin of their inventor and the Fenian Brotherhood. Holland spent years in costly litigation trying to reclaim his patents. On August 12, 1914, he died in Newark, N.J. as the Germans and British were readying their respective Navies for war and the eyes of both fleets were submarines, built with Holland’s principles. John P Holland was soon forgotten. For 61 years, he lay in an unmarked grave until public attention was focused on the historical oversight in 1975 and a memorial headstone was erected. Years later, another was erected in its place, and the original stone was transferred to his home town of Liscannor, Co. Clare and dedicated by the U.S. Navy Submarine Force.

As for Holland’s first sub, the Fenian Ram, it would have made Holland proud for it did strike a blow against the Crown; it was salvaged in 1916 and used in a fund-raising campaign for Ireland’s Easter Rising. After that, it ended up in a shed behind the Paterson Museum. In 1988, the office of National Historian of the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH) learned of its location and asked the museum its intentions. The museum responded that they had a plan, but a lack of funds kept them from creating a proper display. The AOH sponsored a nationwide fund-raising effort and in 1990, presented the museum with a check for $12,000.00. Today the Fenian Ram can be seen as the centerpiece of an elaborate exhibit to Holland in a special section of the Paterson Museum for he truly was one of the Irish who helped make America great.

A long overdue ceremony took place on April 8, 2000, when a monument was also dedicated to the memory of Holland’s accomplishment, at what is now recognized as the first U.S. Submarine Base in New Suffolk, Long Island organized by the U.S. Navy Submarine Veterans.

Mike McCormack, National Historian

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH  PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth #EmbraceYourIrishHeritageAOH

Did you know that an Irish Catholic Priest Rev. Thomas O’Reilly threatened General Sherman with a mutiny by the Irish Catholics in his army if he torched the church district of Atlanta at the start of his infamous march to the sea and that General Sherman backed down and the entire church district was saved, including the City Hall which stood therein? However, Rev. Peter Whelan was just as courageous in another way. Rev. Whelan distinguished himself as a chaplain for the Montgomery Guards, an Irish company established in Savannah for the First Georgia Volunteer Regiment named for America’s first hero: Irish-born Revolutionary General Richard Montgomery. Previously he had been the administrator of the diocese of Savannah where the majority of his parishioners were poor Irish immigrants.   In 1862, his unit was bombarded into surrender by Union forces and though he was offered freedom, Rev. Whelan chose to remain with as chaplain to the prisoners. They were transported to Governor’s Island, NY where meager rations, few latrines and inadequate heating and ventilation soon had the prisoner suffering from pneumonia and typhus. Food and clean clothing were needed so Rev. Whelan wrote to Rev. William Quinn of St. Peter’s Church on Barclay Street, NY. Rev. Quinn, fearing that the damp, cold prison would seriously harm the 60-year-old Rev. Whelan’s health, secured a parole for him. However, except for an occasional trip to the city to procure necessities for the men, Whelan remained at the prison, saying Mass each morning, visiting the sick, giving encouragement and spiritual guidance to those in need.

On June 20, 1862, a prisoner exchange was arranged and the men were sent to Richmond. Rev. Whelan arrived with the sick on August 8 and was unconditionally released. Upon his return to Savannah, he resumed his post as Vicar General. In May 1864, a missionary priest stopped in to Andersonville prison where Union prisoners were held to see how many Catholics were there. What he saw staggered him and he asked that a priest be provided immediately. The Bishop of Georgia asked Rev. Whelan to go and the 62-year-old priest agreed. He arrived at Andersonville in June – the hottest time of the year and the period of the highest mortality. The camp was like nothing he had ever seen.

The stockade sloped down on both sides to a small stream about a yard wide and foot deep. With no arrangement for sewage disposal, this creek provided water for drinking, cooking, and bathing! Into the creek was also thrown the waste of two nearby Confederate camps as well as the grease and garbage from the cookhouse. The slow-flowing stream soon became a mass of thick pollution. In the center of the camp was a swamp, part of which had been used by the prisoners as a toilet and excrement covered the ground; the smell was suffocating! Some of the very sick who were unable to extricate themselves from the muck along the creek had to relieve themselves there making the creek a further source of disease for all. The prisoners numbered 33,000 when it should have held no more than 10,000. Whelan requested help and each priest who came only lasted about two weeks before giving up.

In late August, as Union General Sherman was about to enter Atlanta, some Union prisoners were transferred to Savannah and Charleston. By late September, Rev. Whelan decided to follow them, but before he left, he contacted a restaurant owner in Macon and borrowed $16,000. He purchased 10,000 pounds of wheat flour, had it baked into bread and distributed it at the prison. The prisoners called it Whelan’s bread and it provided the men with rations for several months. One former prisoner later wrote, without a doubt he was the means of saving hundreds of lives.  Another Union prisoner recorderd “ Of all the ministers in Georgia accessible to Andersonville, only one could hear this sentence, ‘I was sick and in prison and you visited me,’ and that one is a Catholic.”

Whelan returned to Savannah suffering from a lung ailment contracted at Andersonville. He wrote to Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, asking for money to pay back the loan he made to provide bread for Union prisoners as the man from whom he’d borrowed was sick himself and needed the money. Stanton replied that he needed sworn bills of purchase for the flour. Whelan told Stanton to keep the money because he had neither the health nor the strength to run over Georgia to hunt up bills of purchase. He said that God would provide – and in a way He did. Due to his worsening health, doctors advised him to go north to a drier climate. Friends provided him with the funds to make the trip but, preferring justice to health; Rev. Whelan used the money to repay his debt. Rev. Whelan’s last days were as pastor of St. Patrick’s in Savannah where he died on February 6, 1871, at the age of 69. The Savannah Evening News described his funeral procession as the longest ever seen in the city. His splendid iron casket was ornamented with full-size silver roses and a wreath of laurel. 86 carriages escorted the body through the crowded streets to the cemetery. People from all over the city turned out to bid farewell to this beloved priest – Catholic and non-Catholic alike – for he was a true shepherd to those in need, Confederate and Union alike regardless of faith, and a true American hero. He was also one of the Irish who made America great.

Mike McCormack, National Historian (reprinted from 2019)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth

Did You Know that a 72-year-old Irish woman, beloved by millions, was once called the most dangerous woman in America? Her name was Mary Harris Jones, and this feisty little Irish lady was also called the Mother of All Agitators. Born in Cork City, Ireland on 1 May 1837, her family fled the Great Hunger to Canada where she trained as a teacher and dressmaker. In 1861, she married George Jones, an iron molder and union organizer in Memphis, Tennessee. They had four children, but she lost all four and her husband in the 1867 yellow fever epidemic. Determined to survive, Mrs. Jones moved to Chicago where she worked as a dressmaker until her shop was destroyed in the Chicago fire of 1871.

After her second heartbreaking setback, this courageous Irish lady took a job as an organizer for the Knights of Labor and United Mine Workers union in 1897. This was a hard time for labor in a tycoon-dominated America where politicians and police controlled the workplace for the giants of industry. In 1876-77, 21 miners in Pennsylvania were given mock trials and executed for union activities as ‘Molly Maguires’ – a name created to paint them as criminal conspirators when, in fact, the only organization they belonged to was the Ancient Order of Hibernians.

Mary Harris Jones, now in her 60s, entered the field of labor. An effective speaker she began organizing mine workers who she called ‘her boys’; they, in turn, called her ‘Mother Jones.’ Her success in organizing mine workers and their families was phenomenal. This petite, white-haired, grandmotherly-looking lady was a radical labor organizer. When she was called ‘the grandmother of all agitators’ by a local politician, she replied ‘I hope to live long enough to be the great grandmother of all agitators!’ She also organized strikers’ wives because she felt that if the wife didn’t share the husband’s beliefs, he wouldn’t stay committed for long. In 1902, she was arrested for ignoring a West Virginia state injunction banning meetings by striking miners. The District Attorney said at her trial, ‘There sits the most dangerous woman in America. She crooks her finger and 20,000 workers lay down.’ According to Clarence Darrow, she was ‘one of the most forceful and picturesque figures of the American labor movement’. When asked for her address, she replied, ‘my address is on the sole of my shoes, it travels with me!’

For months she lived in the most desolate mining camps, sharing her meager belongings with half-starved miner’s families, nursing the sick and cheering the depressed. Not limited to organizing coal miners, she did likewise in the silk mills of Pennsylvania. When she noticed that many of the children had missing fingers and other disabilities from accidents in the mills and mines, she tried to publicize the terrible working conditions of child labor. Newspapers refused to carry her story noting that the mill and mine owners held stock in their papers. She replied, ‘Well, I’ve got stock in these children, and I’ll arrange my own publicity.’ In 1903, she organized 200 children from the mills and mines, many of whom were maimed, to carry banners demanding ‘We want to go to school, not the mines!’ She led this “Children’s Crusade” on a march from Philadelphia to President Teddy Roosevelt’s summer home at Oyster Bay, Long Island. The march took several weeks, and in every town along the way, Mother Jones was ready with a speech telling the public that she was on her way to let the President hear ‘the wail of the children’! He refused to see her, but she got her publicity! Child labor laws soon followed.

In January 1914, she visited Ludlow, Colorado to support miners trying to organize against the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, owned by John D. Rockefeller. She instilled hope in the strikers with her powerful speeches, even though she was now over 80 years of age. The mine owners had her arrested and confined in a psychiatric ward at Mt. San Rafael Hospital. On 21 January, miners’ wives and children organized a march to protest her arrest. Adjutant General Chase, commander of the Colorado Militia, was so furious he gave orders to ‘Ride down those women!’ Mounted troops attacked the march with sabers drawn, injuring many, and Mother Jones was escorted to the state line and told never to return. More than 13,000 miners and their families were evicted from the company shacks, so they set up a tent colony on land belonging to one who supported their cause. The Governor called in the National Guard who were easily bought by the mine owners. In April, the Guard attacked the tent colony of miners and their families resulting in the violent deaths of 75 people including 2 women and 11 children. After the Ludlow Massacre, Mother Jones went to Standard Oil’s New York headquarters to face Rockefeller; the meeting prompted him to visit the Colorado mines and introduce reforms.

Mother Jones remained active in the union movement and her influence opened the door to other female labor leaders like Lenora O’Reilly who went from child laborer to co-founder of the Woman’s Trade Union League; Aunt Sara McLaughlin who rose to the top of the Textile Mill Union as organizer and Julia Sarsfield O’Connor who became the first female officer in the Woman’s Trade Union when she was elected President. The story was repeated again and again. Mother Jones died on 30 November 1930 and her name is still part of labor history. A plaque was erected to her memory in her native Cork city on 1 August 2012. However, most of the lasting tribute to her may be in the world of music. Gene Autry’s first recording in 1931 was ‘The Death of Mother Jones’; Woody Guthrie’s Union Maid’ calls for women to emulate Mother Jones and in 2010, Irish singer/songwriter Andy Irvine, recorded ‘The Spirit of Mother Jones.’ There is one song, however, that has stood the test of time, the first printed version of which appeared in Carl Sandburg’s The American Songbag in 1927. Sandburg noted that the lyrics refer to Mother Jones’ travels among the Appalachian mountain coal mining camps promoting the unionization of the miners. Think of Mother Jones – one of the Irish who helped make America great – when next you sing, ‘She’ll be coming ’round the mountain when she comes, etc.

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2018)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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Did you know that the Irish played a major part in the victory on the bloodiest day in American history, the victory that let Lincoln issue the Emancipation Proclamation? It was at Antietam on September 17, 1862, and it was the victory that emboldened President Lincoln to issue the Emancipation Proclamation. Foremost among Union forces was the Irish Brigade led by Irish-born Gen. Thomas F Meagher. Their story is an extraordinary chronicle of military valor in America’s cause; once when President Lincoln visited General McClellan’s Union camp, he lifted a corner of the Irish Brigade Flag, kissed it and said Thank God for the Irish!

In early August, the Brigade pursued a Confederate division that halted just before the town of Sharpsburg and turned to await the incoming Union forces on the west side of Antietam Creek. The Irish halted on the east side, where Gen. McClellan set up HQ. Meagher wanted to attack, but McClellan waited for more units, but so did the rebels. By September 17, when McClellan finally ordered an attack, the rebels were in the area, in position, and in strength.

At 6 AM, McClellan sent the 1^st, 12^th, and 2^nd Corps in turn across the Antietam, but held the Irish Brigade back to defend HQ. Anxious to get into battle, Meagher watched as the Union forces broke in retreat, one after the other; At 9 AM McClellan finally sent Meagher’s Irish across the creek. Some gratefully soaked their feet which were so swollen that they couldn’t get boots on; they’d been fighting barefoot. Across the creek was a rise, and beyond the rise was 300 yards of open ground which ended at a sunken road. Over the years, farmer’s traffic had worn the road down so that it was 3 feet below ground level, forming a perfect trench, now filled with Confederate troops who devastated the oncoming Union troops with deadly fire. Meagher ordered his men forward and, as they crested the rise, he rode to their front, drew his sword and shouted, Irish Brigade, Raise the Colors and Follow Me!

The Union wounded, strewn across the field from the morning’s carnage, cheered as from the sunken road was heard, The Irish Brigade is coming. The rebels could hear the Irish cheering as the colors appeared over the top of the rise, first the streamers, then the flags: emerald green, then red, white, and blue. Then the Brigade appeared in a perfect line as if on parade, rifles at the ready. The rebels rose up in the sunken road, leveled their muskets and fired. Death struck the Irish front. Every rebel bullet seemed to find its mark as the Brigade crossed the field. The emerald banners of the Brigade were special targets and were repeatedly lifted as color bearers were shot down. Capt. Clooney retrieved the colors of the 88th as they fell and was immediately shot in the knee. Using the staff as a crutch, he urged his men on. Shot twice more, he died enshrouded by the emerald silk of his regimental banner. A young private lifted the flag from Clooney’s body and waved it defiantly at the enemy. The regiment roared its approval and charged into the hail of bullets.

Behind them, Gen. Caldwell led his men across the creek. He saw the 63rd and 88th being shot to pieces but, intimidated by the carnage, held back awaiting Gen. Richardson to arrive and take command. The Brigade, now more than 30 minutes in a fierce face-to-face fire-fight, was being cut to pieces. Meagher rode to the rear and pleaded, For God’s sake, come up and help! Col. Barlow replied I’m truly sorry General, but, my orders are to remain here. Meager angrily rode back into battle and his horse was hit, fell, and rolled onto him leaving him injured. Meagher was carried back to a field hospital, as the ranks of the Brigade slowly diminished and ammunition was running low. There was nothing glorious about this fight, it was a bloody brawl, but Irish gradually got the upper hand. Virtually every rebel officer had been shot and the sunken road that provided them such great cover now looked like a mass grave with rebels covering every square inch of ground. The contest was too much for the rebels; braving the Irish fire, they bolted from the sunken road and fled to the rear. The remaining Irish began to cheer when suddenly, from beyond the fleeing rebels, came fresh reinforcements! They ran into the sunken road, and straight out the other side charging the Irish. Instead of retreating, the Brigade stood fast, leveled their rifles, and fired into the charging rebels breaking their attack with a single volley. As the rebels regrouped for a counter-attack, the surviving Irish looked nervously over their shoulders; where was their relief?

Meanwhile, Gen. Richardson arrived and found Gen. Caldwell hiding behind a haystack. He cursed Caldwell and ordered his men to relieve the Irish. The Brigade, still firing into the Confederates to keep them from regrouping, knew that one more attack would finish them. Then, just as the rebels were climbing out of the sunken road, Caldwell’s men entered the field behind them shouting, three cheers for the Irish Brigade. The Irish saw their reinforcements coming up the rise and a sense of pride surged through them. With a roar, they sprang to their weary feet and led the attack with Capt. Joyce shouting, Forward for St. Patrick and Ireland. This was the final blow! The rebels had fired cases of ammunition into the Irish, only to see them attack again and again with incredible arrogance. Now, just when the rebels thought they had them finished, the Irish had the audacity to attack them! The Confederates broke and ran. Surrounded by dead and wounded comrades, the Irish stood at the edge of that road so dearly bought, and watched them go. Gen. Richardson, transfixed by the carnage before him, watched as the Irish turned their backs on the fleeing enemy. Then, with their tattered and blood-stained flags proudly flying, they formed into ranks, as best they could, and marched down the rise to the cool waters of Antietam Creek amid the cheers of every man in sight. The unattainable sunken road was now the Union front line; that costly barrier that couldn’t be breached had been won by the Irish Brigade, and they gave it the name by which it would evermore be known – Bloody Lane. They were only a few of the Irish who made America great!

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2018)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

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A TV documentary on the St. Louis World Fair mentions how John Philip Sousa and his band dominated the entertainment, which included a young John McCormack singing at the Irish Pavilion. It brought to mind a forgotten era when American superstars were not individuals with a current hit record, but band leaders – people with the ability to not only play, but compose, arrange, and lead a musical organization. And, in the beginning, America’s first superstars were the leaders of America’s first bands – her marching Brass Bands and though Sousa was certainly one of them, he was not the first.  That honor goes to a man whom Sousa himself admired and whom he called matchless.   He was a man who, in his day, was called America’s Greatest Bandleader, and The Musician of the People.  Sadly, today few remember his name, though most still know his works, and his life story would be a movie of epic proportions.

It began on Christmas Day, 1829, when a boy was born to the Gilmore family in Ballygar, Co. Galway, Ireland  and thus began the remarkable life of Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore. After a difficult childhood, having experienced the horror of Great Hunger in Ireland, he emigrated to America in 1848 at the age of 18. His love of music led him to one of the many Brass Bands that were popular in America at the time, which he joined as a coronet player. He settled in Massachusetts, and eventually became the leader of the Charlestown Brass Band, then the Boston Brigade Band and finally the Salem Brass. In 1856, he started his own band, which he called Gilmore’s Boston Band, and began to change the image of American music. At a time when the prevailing notion was “the louder the brass the better the band,” Gilmore became the first major bandleader in America to conduct brass band arrangements of classics by Mozart, Liszt, and Rossini. When that made everyone sit up and take notice, he extended his repertoire to standard works, one of the most popular of which was his own composition, Seeing Nellie Home,  inspired by his wife Ellen O’Neill, who was organist and choir director at St. Patrick’s Church in Lowell, Mass. Another of his compositions, written for a civil rights leader of the time, was called John Brown’s Body. Most will recognize that as the song to which Julia Ward Howe later rewrote the lyrics to create the Battle Hymn of the Republic. Perhaps his most enduring work was a military march that he wrote to the air of an old Irish anti-war song. Based on the tune, Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya, Gilmore created the classic: When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again.

Despite his great fame as a composer and band leader, his crowning achievements were the organizing and directing of two of the largest music festivals ever held. In 1869, he organized the National Peace Jubilee and later, the World Peace Jubilee. For sheer numbers of performers, nothing has ever surpassed that latter concert which consisted of 2,000 musicians, and a chorus of 20,000 voices. He brought together leading bands from England, France, Germany, Belgium and Ireland. The Irish band, by the way, was one he personally recruited to represent his homeland, after England insisted on sending only one band to represent the Empire, of which Ireland at the time was a part.  Gilmore told the Brits to send an Irish Band or stay home themselves. Such was the power of Gilmore’s name; he not only attracted the world’s best musicians and singers, but he even convinced the renowned waltz king, Johann Strauss, to compose a special piece, The Jubilee Waltz, for the occasion and to make his first trip across the Atlantic to conduct it himself. One of the highlights of the event was the performance of Giuseppe Verdi’s Anvil Chorus, with one hundred Boston firemen hammering out the rhythm on blacksmiths’ anvils.

Shortly after this triumph, Gilmore left Boston for New York, where he became leader of the 22nd Regimental Band of the National Guard. For the next 20 years he concentrated on developing what became universally recognized as simply the greatest band in the world. In 1878, he became the first American bandmaster to make a concert tour of Europe. It was a smashing success. He returned to New York, and took over P.T. Barnum’s old Hippodrome building, and renamed it Gilmore’s Concert Garden. It became the showplace of New York where he played nightly to a full house. If you haven’t guessed yet, when he moved on, it became Madison Square Garden.  Everything this man did was colossal. It was Gilmore who originated the tradition of ringing in New Years in Times Square, it was Gilmore who was musical director for the dedication of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor in 1886, and it was Gilmore who, in 1891 was invited by Thomas Edison to record on wax cylinders, thereby becoming the first band to make commercial recordings. In 1892, Gilmore was named musical director of the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, but while on a national tour that year, he died of a heart attack on Sept 24 at 62 years of age.

He was mourned by the entire nation, and thousands lined the funeral route from his home on Central Park West to St. Xavier’s Church across town and then to his final resting place in Calvary Cemetery in Queens. The great Victor Herbert said that for the hard, but glorious struggle from the old bands of loud brasses and drums which made the most noise possible, to bands which interpret the works of the world’s great composers to satisfy the most exacting musician, most of the glory belonged to Gilmore.  It is sad that although many still know his works, so few remember his name; yet sadder still is that many who do see his name on his compositions don’t even know that P. S. Gilmore was Irish.  Yet he was not only Irish, but one of the Irish who helped to shape America

Mike McCormack, National Historian (originally publish 2020)

THIS IRISH AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH PROFILE IS PRESENTED BY THE ANCIENT ORDER OF HIBERNIANS (AOH.COM)

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth #EmbraceYourIrishHeritageAOH