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The simply named 'The Head Shop' on Fownes St., Temple Bar has at its windows put through. The owners left this message. Picture taken by JayCarx, 8/4/10

As Dfallon said earlier today, why are people attacking head shops but not banks?

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Never Again! Rally in memory of Toyosi, this Saturday

Stemming from a post on the Bohs forum, some of us have decided to form a League of Ireland block on the Toyosi demo this Saturday. We plan on meeting at the front doors of the Ambassador at 1:45 then marching up together. Wear colours and bring banners if thats your thing- This is about uniting against a racism that is alive and well in this country and is just brandishing its ugly head now… It has indeed invaded our League, as documented in a good article by Sporting Fingal’s Eamonn Zayed.

Now is as good a time as ever to unite on the issue. Racism in any form should not be tolerated at League of Ireland games, or anywhere.

Meet at the front of The Ambassador, this Saturday at 1:45… See you there!

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(Little has been written on the Dublin Punk & New Wave scene of the late 1970s and early 1980s, next to nothing on the Rockabilly revival scene and even less on the Mod Revival/Northern Soul scene of the 1980s. This is a small attempt to ratify this. I’ve chosen to  focus on the Bubbles Mod Night as there is a reunion this Saturday at the Grand Central Hotel. Thanks to Paul Davis, Joe Moran and Karl Carey for talking to me and also Anthony Healy, Morgan Nolan and Anne Doyle for the photos.)

Bubbles was the most important and influential mod revival night in Dublin’s history. Located in what is now the basement of the Temple Bar Hotel in Adair Lane, the night ran from 1981 to 1987 – the golden years of the mod revival scene in Dublin.

Bubbles Concession

Starting as a weekly event (Wednesdays from 8pm till 11.15pm), it became twice a week (Wednesday and Sunday nights) to accommodate the growing subculture. The 11.15pm curfew was to facilitate punters getting the last bus.

Admission price was £1.50 (or a pound if you were a member). The cloakroom was 20p and, if you could afford it, a coke was 50p. Alcohol was not on sale. This was, uniquely, an all ages event. However, as Paul Davis, who is organising this weekend’s reunion, remembers, this didn’t stop a “few enterprising lads” selling a cans of beer at a couple of all-nighters. There was also one individual who did a “lucrative trade” in pills.

Karl Carey’s ‘Bubbles Discotheque’ Membership Card

At the start, the music policy was pure 1960s mod and soul with a dashing of ’79 revival. Original Trojan/Studio One ska also made an occasional appearance. As time went on, Northern Soul became a staple part of the Bubbles diet.

Bubbles ‘Mod Scene’ Concession

A funny anecdote relates to a number of TV theme songs that were played every week at Bubbles. The theme from Joe 90 and Hawaii 5-0 were long-established tunes that were attached to the Northern Soul scene (for what particular reason I’m not quite sure). The third song that was played every week was the Match of the Day melody. As Paul Davis explains; “this was never regarded by anyone as northern soul, mod or anything like that, it was Noel’s (the DJ) way of saying, that’s your lot, it’s over till next week.” Nevertheless you still had ‘newbie’s’, who were on their first visit to Bubbles, thinking that the Match of the Day tune was also a Northern Soul cult classic and they’d get up and dance to it. The regulars saw it as a great (and often humorous) way to distinguish the posers from the genuine fans on their first visit.

Mods in Bubbles.

Joe Moran recalls his first time in Bubbles:

I think it was the summer of 1984 when a friend of mine gave me a Motown LP. I had just turned Mod and for me I just couldn’t fit the style with the post 79 new wave and angry Pop and was searching around for musical satisfaction …  with an older guy who had been a mod from the seventies when no-one else was and he had a huge collection of mainly white RnB British stuff and he had me listening to that. He pointed out when I told him about the Motown Lp that the original Mods were big lovers of RnB and Motown in particular so I was very firmly on the right track.

So my summer exams finished and I had told my folks that I was going to this Disco (Bubbles) in town and that it finished at 11.30 etc. etc. you know how it was when you’re young. And after some misgivings on their part they gave their blessing once I agreed to be on the last bus home ( I never got on that bus but walked home with my companions talking nine to the dozen and skipping along like a three-year old, gesticulating and investing a teenagers perceived importance onto all the things I had seen that night and they were smiling at my mad capering antics)

 

Anyways I organise with my cousin Karen and her friend to come along with me as all the Mods from East Wall I knew were non-committal (their mod life was on the wane) but as I knew a few Mods from school who’d be there I knew I wouldn’t be on my own. I remember the clothes I wore that night, Black and white golf jacket, Polka dot shirt, grey sta-press and bowling shoes. I looked the business (or so I thought)…

So with trepidation we head into town and down the lane and up to the doors where we are greeted by some bouncers all dressed up and me thinking “they are either going to a ball or serving at one with their evening suits and dickey bows on”

“First time tonight?” Says the small bouncer
“Eh, yeah, can I go in?” says I nervously trying to swallow with a dry mouth
“Okay, you need to get a membership, you got photos, give them to the girl downstairs and she’ll sort you out”
“yeah I got them, okay”
“And here….”
“Yeah?”
“Any fucking messing and you’re barred”
“okay no problem…no messing”

Down the stairs and pay in and then through the arch and I’m there. There’s some track playing I don’t know, some band belting out the power chords. I see Mods everywhere as I stand against the wall, getting sized up by the regulars who are kitted out in some sensational (to my eyes anyway) styles. Guys in suits smoking and chatting up fashionable girls with big hair, heads thrown back at some witty repartee and I feel like a hick in the big smoke for the first time, aware of his quaint fashions and demeanour and I try to blend into the scenery whilst attempting to look cool. The girls have fucked off to the jacks leaving me on me Sweeney but I spot a Mod from my School, Peter Ragazolli, and he waves and beckons me over and introduces me to some of his crew and before I know it there’s a host of us back slapping and sizing each other up – its blur of names and interestingly for those who went to bubbles and probably has some importance that seemed so important in those days all this takes place over by the deejay box on the dance floor (one of the very few times I ventured past the pillars) I forget the names and faces now but for a time most of those people were a big part of my life.

And then suddenly the mood changes, the deejay starts playing a slow set – To Sir, with Love is playing and there is a slow enough take up from the punters to start the lurching. The crew moves up to the bar for a smoke and a talk and I get the usual questions from the guys I don’t know “ where you from” “Do you know so and so” how long you been into Mod” “what music you into” and it’s all easy and relaxed and my musical taste are getting nods of approval from one or two and soon we are parrying records and tunes back and forth – as I scan the bar I see that not everyone is wearing tailored clobber and I don’t feel so bad but make a mental note to sharpen up next time I come out.

I note a crew of Faces and realise that I recognise one of them and he wanders over and chats to me for a while and I’m introduced as a “friend of ours” its like the mafia – I’m in. I’m treading carefully around subjects and trying to fit in – laughing at the right places most of the time though in fairness most of the adventures and personalities in the stories are unknown to me

The slow set is fading out and the crowd start to walk back down the tunnel past the jacks (some months later I was to realise that once you started going regularly you got to know the deejays set inside out so rarely did he play a new tune) and then I feel my heart start to throb as a bass-line attacks me from the speakers. A tambourine kicks in and then some falsetto harmonising rounds out the sound “Before, I go forever, be sure of what you say” and then it sounds like the place is collapsing and there are people leaping over each other to get to the dance floor and the place goes mental. I’m looking at Jimmy Mulvaney (I found out his name later) doing what can only be described as the most spectacular dancing I had seen up to that point in my life. He looks almost like a mod with his neat hair, Fred and bowling shoes but his trousers are a little too wide and they flap as he kicks his leg high in the air and pirouettes and stops dead on the beat and then he’s off again doing some more footwork.

I’m stunned – I look around and Ragger and the guys are laughing and joking as if there’s nothing happening – I’m in awe I had never had a song grip me like that with its raw power, its beat and pure exuberance

“Ragger – what the fuck is that song?”
“Franie Valli – The Night”
“Where do I get one?”
“Ah ask the soul boys when they are finished dancing – they’ll get you one, probably cost you about 2 or 3 quid”


The floor is jammed with bodies, slim tall mods, cigarettes in their hands doing a variation of the block, bobbed black-haired girls doing this dainty stepping dance and the soul boys moving around the floor like manic spinning tops

The song finishes and the next tune on the decks is as fast and as hard-hitting as the previous . Another Motown sound though more Motown-ish than the previous one and as different to my Motown Gold LP than if they’d been made on two different planets. ‘(There’s a) Ghost in My House’ has the same intensive beat and the dancers are getting up into a lather, even the contoured Mods are starting to show the heat in this humid cellar club and the girls are disappearing to the jacks to powder their noses (today they just head to the jacks to stuff powder up their noses but different times eh?).

The deejay keeps the tempo going and its obvious that the crowd know all these songs and as people leave the Dance floor someone will take up the vacant real estate like some telepathic signal to “ keep the space warm for me while I go grab a fag”.

And then after some more glorious vocal tunes and instrumentals the tempo changes and I recognise Secret Affair’s ‘Time For Action’ and as one the soulies move off and the Mods reclaim the dance floor.

 

There were other songs that I heard over that first year/two years that turned my head – Eddie Holman’s I Surrender is an all time favourite of mine, Epitome Of Soul – ‘You Don’t Love Me’, The Metros – ‘Since I Found My Baby’ and a whole host of other top-notch sounds but I can arguably say that ‘The Night’ and ‘(There’s a) Ghost in My House’ were the two songs that got me into Northern Soul.

Bubbles closed in early 1987 after the owners didn’t renew the lease on the venue. It moved to a new premise in Abraxis on Sackville Lane beside Cleary’s but many saw this as the beginning of the end for the Mod scene in Dublin. Davis remembers that the venue didn’t suit us; “it was a bit too trendy and bright”. By 1987, the Mod scene was dying a death. In the UK, the scene “had already gone way underground” while in Dublin it was on its last knees.

Ben, Nicky. Karl and Linda in Bubbles

Karl Carey (42) looks back on Bubbles fondly:

“My first time at Bubbles was late September 1984. I was 16. Suits, Parkas, Loafers, Fred Perry’s, Scooters and oh yeah, girls! My mod music was based around the 79 sounds, Bubbles introduced me to new mod sounds –  Northern Soul (yeah I still have to explain what it is to people). As I get older I prefer to keep it my treasured secret.

 

Every Wednesday and then also every Sunday night I couldn’t miss Bubbles. To be honest, some nights were just ok but when they were good WOW! The All – nighters were ours and ours alone, don’t think any other scene had or has anything like it. Met the most wonderful people at Bubbles and even got the most gorgeous girlfriend and then wife because of Bubbles.

25 years, 2 sons and 6 scooters later I find myself getting more and more back into the scene … Some things have changed and I realise you can’t hold on to everything you might want, but your memories will last forever…………….”

After Bubbles, Joe Moran, Eamonn Flavin and Mark Byrne set up the This Is It Soul Club in the basement of The Plough on Abbey Street which then moved on to The Fox & Pheasant on Great Strand Street, close to Capel Street Bridge. This shared alternate Fridays with the Night Owl Soul Club, which Paul Davis ran with Stuart Chaney and Mick Duffy. Both clubs ran for less than a year. The early 1990s saw most of the original Dublin Mods pack up and move to London.

Mods in Dublin. Location unknown.

There wasn’t another regular club in Dublin until the Dublin Soul Club was set up in 1995 by Paul Davis, John Dunne and Ray O’Reilly. Their night ran for six successful years in The Plough.

The Sleepless Nights Soul Club took up the torch in 2002 and the scene has been burning bright since. They are celebrating their 8th anniversary with a weekend of Northern and Motown soul on April 30 and May 1 in McGrattan’s.

Keep the faith.

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Sherwood Foresters photographed with captured rebel leader, Eamon de Valera.

A nice piece this, an eyewitness account from Captain A.A Dickson of the Sherwood Foresters. It, and other accounts like it, are available in ‘True World War I Stories’ published by Robinson Press. While many of the tales deal with trench life, for some the first combat they would see would be street fighting in Dublin.

Then, Easter 1916, at 2 a.m came another entrainment order.

Half the battalion didn’t believe it: many a one had no razor in his kit when the next chance to shave came. For the trains that we really did entrain into sped off not south-westward for the Plain of France, but away and away up the “North Western”, and it wasn’t until they disgorged us on Liverpool Docks that rumours could be swopped about “Sinn Fein gentry- broken bottles and shillelaghs.”

It was a baptism of fire alright, with flintlocks, shot-guns, and elephant rifles, as well as more orthodox weapons. And 100 casualties in two days’ street fighting was a horrible loss to one battalion: the more so since my one friend from the ranks, commissioned same day, was shot through the head leading a rush on a fortified corner house, first day on active service, and it was my job to write and tell his mother, who thought him still safe in England.”

That “fortified corner house”, of course, is 25 Northumberland Road.

25 Northumberland Road Today. I took a series of photographs of the battle area recently.

I have dealt briefly with events at Mount Street Bridge in a previous piece published before the launch of the latest work from Paul O’ Brien, Uncommon Valour. In short, a small grouping of well placed Volunteers, situated in a small number of buildings strategically, managed to inflict almost half of the overall British Army casualties of the insurrection. Ultimately, Michael Malone and James Grace would hold 25 Northumberland Road alone after Malone dismissed younger Volunteers for their own safety. This ‘fortified corner house’, and Clanwilliam House on the far side of Mount Street Bridge, provided serious resistance to Sherwood Foresters wishing to advance onwards in the direction of Trinity College Dublin.

General Sir John Maxwell himself noted that:

“Four officers were killed and fourteen wounded and of the other ranks, 216 were killed and wounded”

Lieutenant Michael Malone, who died at 25 Northumberland Road. His fellow Volunteer James Grace survived.

A checkpoint is established on Mount Street Bridge after the bloody battle

Perhaps nothing humanises the conflict more than when A.A Dickson goes on to state

“A hateful task: so was another duty of one misty dawn soon after, when four young officers had to command four firing parties, and four rebel leaders stood in turn blind-fold against a wall”

On the 94th Anniversary, perhaps it’s time to stop and think of the experiences of the Sherwood Foresters and Regiments like them over the course of the rebellion. A.A Dickson finally made it to France, in January 1917. Wounded in April 1918 during a German attack, he was demobilised from hospital in January 1919.

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Firstly, I’ve always supported the claim by some (mainly Bohemian F.C) football supporters that Dalymount Park merits national monument status. It’s well known the national team played there of course, but beyond that- you could get a fantastic book out of this place (and I hope someone does)

Even Nazi Germany have graced the pitch. Image taken from the Facebook Group 'Dalymount Park is a National Monument'

Pele and Zidane have graced the pitch, and closer to home some English legends like Bobby Charlton and Bobby Moore. 22,000 people went along to Dalymount Park in 1959 to watch Saint Patrick’s Athletic take on Waterford in a Cup Final. That was typical enough. Some matches were a tad odder, like a bizarre charity match in 1952 (“stage artists carrying huge mallets and wearing massive fur coats”, and “Big man stretches arm, holds off midget who swings wildly at nothing” for example) between a press team and a stage team. Why even limit a discussion of Dalymount to football? Thin Lizzy, Boomtown Rats, Bob Marley,Motorhead- all have taken to the stage here.

Why then did it feel like a trip to the DDR on Tuesday night?

Granted, it wasn’t the Connaught Stand (shudders) and the Des Kelly stand we were put in was quite nice, had a roof and was generally fine, but the turnstiles on the way in and the Gulag-like jacks are tragic at best. Imagine bringing your kids to their first League of Ireland game, at a stadium with such diverse and wonderful history, and being put in the Connaught Stand or coming through those turnstiles.

The atmosphere under that roof was electric, Mark Quigley was given a few healthy renditions of ‘White Joey Ndo, you’re just a white Joey Ndo….’ and he didn’t seem to mind the abuse as he stretched beside the away section. I don’t want to guess the away crowd, but it was very respectable and in fine voice and spirits. In truth I thought the Bohs lot were unusually quiet,the roar out of the Jodi can be thunderous on a good night, last night something was amiss over there. It happens at any ground on occasion, maybe it was a Tuesday night thing. I’ve often loved the displays that have come out of that section, like Zapata on his horse on the night of that Fahey goal.

When we got our goal (as you’ll see below in the YouTube video you’re all going to watch) our subs were STRAIGHT over to celebrate with the lads. At the end of the match the players and fans connected on a level I haven’t seen in a long time, and the chanting continued for a few minutes after the final whistle. Gold. Great to see a return to that kind of relationship.

Dalymount Park remains one of my favourite football stadiums to visit, if only for the history of it and the great pubs that you find on the street outside. In fact, I wouldn’t object to a Phibsboro pubcrawl for Come Here To Me in the nearish future. Still, Dalymount Park also remains in dire need of some sort of urgent fix-up. It is a disservice to the history of soccer in Ireland, and not just the resident Bohemian F.C, that the place is in the state it is.

All in all, for Saint Patrick’s Athletic though, a good performance on and off the pitch.

This is worth a look, on the history of Dalymount Park.

Jaycarax, who would know that kind of thing, insists The Clash never played there. They do tell you not to use Wikipedia, sometimes they’re right.

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Memorial to Irish Hunger Strikers

I’ve been up around Glasnevin before in a vain attempt to find Brendan Behan’s grave; I don’t know what possessed me, it was a beautiful day, I’d just finished reading The Hostage and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, I failed in the attempt, but promised myself I’d come back some day and have another look. So, given the oppurtunity this weekend, the three CHTM heads, accompanied by LukeF (of LukeF Comics,) took a walk to Irelands largest necropolis where we hooked up with the official tour- led by Shane MacThomáis, son of  the great Dublin historian Eamonn MacThomáis, a man who I personally have a lot of time for, and I’m sure the other two lads here are the same. Some of his documentaries can be found here.

A modest grave for a big character; Jim Larkin

The cemetary is home to the graves of approximately 1.2 million people; A far cry from the nine acres it started out with in 1832,the area now stands at over 120 acres on one side of the road and a further 40 acres on the other, where the body of Luke Kelly now rests. It came into being initially due to reforms pushed through by Daniel O’Connell, whose tomb sits at the entrance to the cemetary. Prior to it’s existence, death was an expensive thing to endure, there being no Catholic burial grounds in Dublin and it costing a small fortune to bury a Catholic in a Protestant one. O’Connells tomb is of course marked by a 170ft tall round tower, which tends to stand out a wee bit! The tomb was the target of a loyalist bomb attack in the seventies, which shook the tomb itself, and blew up the stairs encircling the inside of the tower, closing it to the public. The Cemetary is surrounded on all sides by high stone walls, with towers on each corner. Not there to keep the dead in, they were built to keep grave robbers out. Grave robbing was a lucrative business in the 19th Century, corpses fetching £2, quite a sum in those days. Guards manned the towers from dusk to dawn, armed with muskets and pistols.

Plaque Commemorating the Cemetary Watchmen

JayCarax said it on the way up here and he was right: It isn’t a case of who is buried here, it’s easier to say who isn’t. For within a stones throw of the gate, you have Daniel O’Connell, as mentioned above, Eamonn DeValera, Michael Collins, Michael Malone, Maud Gonne, Jim Larkin, Roger Casement, Cathal Brugha, The O’Raghallaigh and Frank Ryan, amongst any number of important historical figures. The virtual map on the Glasnevin Trust site gives you a better of who is buried, and where, and is definitely worth having a look at.

One of the more interesting gravestones; The Indian Mutineers

Whilst amongst the masses of graves friends and comrades lay side by side, mortal enemies are often not within spitting distance of each other either. For while Big Jim Larkin turns to dust beneath the Glasnevin soil, likewise does William Martin Murphy whose palatial tomb is within sight of the modest grave Jim and his family are buried in. While Frank Ryan is buried within sight of the gate, Eoin O’Duffy is also. Glasnevin is, and has always been, a multi-denominational cemetary. Buried and cremated here are Catholic and Protestant, Sikhs and Jews. Rich and poor also, the cemetary is home to the Millenium Plot (what would have formerly been known as a “paupers plot.”) This is looked after by the charity “Alone” who maintain the plot and make sure people buried there are buried with dignity, giving them a full funeral, headstone and flowers. Fair play due there. In one of the older paupers plots, up to 25,000 bodies are buried in a relatively tiny area, not far from Parnell’s grave. Many of the dead were victims of a cholera outbreak in the late 19th century. A couple of years after their burial, fresh outbreaks of Cholera were reported in the Drumcondra / Ballybough area. For not far beneath the soil where their bodies lay is a maze of underground streams, all emtying into the Tolka River- the disease had assimilated into the soil and on into the water, making its way back into circulation. Nasty times.

Above is a stone that caught my attention the first time I visited, and again on our visit on Monday, a memorial to the Indian Mutineers of 1920. Theres is an interesting story. Upon hearing of the uprising in their homeland, hundreds of Irish Soldiers fighting in the British army in India turned their guns on their generals. Though close to 400 men took part, the mutiny was quickly  suppressed and eighty-eight of those men were court martialled. Fourteen were sentenced to death and the rest given up to 15 years in jails in Dagshai and Solan. Two died in the mutiny, Pte Sears and Pte Smyth. Thirteen of the men sentenced to die had their sentences commuted to life imprisonment, though one man, James Daly was shot dead by firing squad. He was considered the leader of the mutiny at just 21 years old.

Frank Ryan & next to him, the great Eamonn Mac Thomais

The tour eventually took us to the grave of Brendan Behan in the end, and my search was over. Not far from him lies the burial place of Francis Sheehy- Skeffington, brutally murdered by an Anglo-Irish officer of the 3rd battalion Royal Irish Rifles, Captain J.C. Bowen-Colthurst. Another sad story, one of 1.2 million sad stories you might say. You get the sense when walking around here that each grave has a history attached, each person buried here has had trials and tribulations of their own. And while visitors come here to see the burial sites of the famous and influential, there are others here whose personal struggles surely matched the struggles of those marked on their maps.

The new Glasnevin Visitors Centre opens this Friday. There are daily tours of the cemetary, led by Shane MacThomáis, costing €5. A bargain, tours last approx. 2 hours. Without donations and support, Glasnevin would be forced to close its gates as a national monument. Be sure to visit and support it however you can. Check out http://www.glasnevintrust.ie for more details.

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I’ve been irregularly updating my blog ‘Hidden History of UCD’ with pieces related to the radical and social history of the college. Some CHTM! readers might be interested in some of my recent posts:

– In 1962, Anthony Clare wrote an article for the T.C.D. Miscellany about the censorship regime in UCD at that time.

– In 1967, Joseph Matthews wrote an article for Hibernia about Student Politics in UCD at the time (it includes a picture of a very young Vincent Browne, Chairman of Young Fine Gael)

– In the early 1970s, an Oz like radical paper was published in Belfield called Instead.

– In the mid 1970s, a Womens Lib. fanzine was published in Belfield called Bread and Roses.

In the late 1980s, Belfield enjoyed a healthy rave scene. I’ve interviewed François Pittion (Ents Officer 1988/89) about the period.

Taken from Bread and Roses (Issue 2, c. 1974) Click to read full issue.

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Dublin Fire Brigade Piper Bernard Mulhall at Liberty Hall

“O branch that withered without age!
Would we could see you where you’re missed
Step airy on the Abbey stage
Play there ‘The Revolutionist’
Or fill with laughter pit and stalls
With Bartley Fallon’s croak and cry
What led you to those castle walls?
We mourn you Sean Connolly”

Lady Gregory.

Another plaque in place, another important part of working class Dublin history marked.

The home of the Connolly siblings, at 58/59 Sean McDermott Street Lower, now boasts a new plaque from the North Inner City Folklore Project. Captain Sean Connolly and his siblings Katie, Joseph, George, Eddie and Mattie all fought with the Irish Citizen Army during the Easter rebellion. The plaque also pays tribute to young Molly O’ Reilly, who raised the green flag over Liberty Hall in 1916.

Among the crowd were historians, trade unionists, activists,relatives of members of the City Hall Garrison and members of the local community. The Dublin Fire Brigade were represented too, due to Joseph and George Connolly serving within its ranks. Joseph was a firefighter at the time of the insurrection. The Fire Brigade can therefore boast something very few others in the city can, in the form of a real connection to the Easter Rising.

Conor McCabe at Dublin Opinion has some more images worth a look over at their blog.

Speeches and audio

James Connolly Heron speaks at the site of the plaque. His speech covers not alone Sean Connolly and his siblings, but the campaign to save 16 Moore Street.

Las Fallon, of the Dublin Fire Brigade Museum, speaks of Joseph and George Connolly.

Dublin Fire Brigade piper plays outside 58/59 Sean McDermott Street Lower.

Wind, coughing, and all the other things nature/people can whip up when you’re trying to record something, but still….

Images

Dublin Fire Brigade members at Liberty Hall

Fittingly, a relative of James Connolly presents a relative of Molly O' Reilly with the green flag to raise.

The raising of the flag

The flag is raised.

Dublin Fire Brigade colour party

Citizen Army uniforms today, spot on right down to the red hand!

Dublin Brigade- Irish Republican Army

Las Fallon, Dublin Fire Brigade, speaks of George and Joseph Connolly.

Banner marking the role of women in the revolutionary years

A poem is read prior to the unveiling

A small selection of the fantastic collection of images from the period on display afterwards

The Starry Plough blows in the wind with the new plaque behind it.

Dublin Fire Brigade trade unionists pay respect. Firefighter Russ McCobb laid this on behalf of Impact workers.

Another snap of the brief talk on the Connolly connection to the Dublin Fire Brigade

The plaque itself

After the ceremony, we decided to visit Glasnevin Cemetery. There, we thought it only fitting to undertake a search for a particular grave with the day that was in it.

The grave was that of Captain Sean Connolly, Irish Citizen Army.

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Tomorrow I hope to have the audio and photos from the launch of the new Connolly siblings/Molly O’ Reilly plaque launch up. For now, here are some unusual photos captured today in Dublin city centre.

The 'Irish Republic' flag at the offices of the T.E.E.U Union.

2006 poster on Moore Street, still up.

A city council worker passes by the faces of the 1916 leaders, Moore Street.

Fresh graffiti on 16 Moore Street

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“What was this Republic of which I now heard for the first time? Who were the leaders the British had executed after taking them prisoners, Tom Clarke, Padraic Pearse, James Connolly and all the others, none of whose names I had ever heard? What did it all mean?”

So wrote a young British soldier serving in Mesopotamia, or Iraq to you and me. Bemused by what had occured in Dublin, this one soldier had gone to war not lured by the recruitment posters featuring small nations (often personified in the form of female characters) but in his own words “..for no other reason than that I wanted to see what war was like, to get a gun, to see new countries and to feel like a grown man”. This young soldier would continue to serve that army afterwards, but in 1920 became a member of the 3rd Cork Brigade of the Irish Republican Army, rising through the ranks to become a flying column leader who inflicted terror on Auxiliary forces at Kilmichael and the Essex Regiment of the British Army and the Royal Irish Constabulary at Crossbarry. The young man, of course, was Tom Barry.

Tom Barry

Barry was not the only Republican leader who saw the Rising in an unusual manner. In Dublin,a young medical student named Ernie O’ Malley was taken aback by events, and vivdly described events on Sackville Street.

“Other shops had just been looted: Lawrence’s toy bazaar and some jewellers. Diamond rings and pocketsful of gold watches were selling for sixpence and a shilling, and one was cursed if one did not buy…. Ragged boys wearing old boots, brown and black, tramped up and down with air rifles on their shoulders or played cowboys and Indians, armed with black pistols supplied with long rows of paper caps. Little girls hugged teddy bears and dolls as if they could hardly believe their good fortune”

Ernie O' Malley

While literally seeing the outbreak of the rebellion, O’ Malley would also encounter a student he knew who told him they were arming themselves in case Trinity College would be attacked. O’ Malley informed the student that while he was off home, he would return later(The fact O’ Malley was a UCD Student would no doubt lead to cries of ‘Sacrilege!’ from some even today). Largely indifferent at first to what was occuring, O’ Malley would quickly turn towards the rebels, even making his way down Moore Street and towards Nelsons Pillar one night, where he discussed the rising so far with a uniformed officer of the Irish Citizen Army. Amazingly, O’ Malley and a schoolboy friend would take it upon themselves to assist the rebels, through taking potshots at soldiers with a rifle his friends father had been given “as a present by a soldier who brought it back from the Front”

In his memoir, On Another Man’s Wound he went on to note that after the rebellion he purchased a copy of James Connolly’s Labour In Irish History. History would see Ernie O’ Malley remembered as a leading republican anti-treatyite, and a key intellectual within the movement.

James Stephens

In Dublin, James Stephens was surprised by the outbreak of the insurrection, in fact to the extent that he did not notice at first and went about his business. A novelist and poet, his account of the week, The Insurrection in Dublin, is well written and oft-humourous.

“This has taken everyone by surprise. It is possible, that with the exception of their staff, it has taken the Volunteers themselves by surprise; but,today, our peaceful city is no longer peaceful; guns are sounding or rolling and cracking from different directions, and, although rarely, the rattle of machine guns can be heard also.

Two days ago war seemed very far away- so far, that I have convenated with myself to learn the alphabet of music”

Stephens would seek confirmation of the Risings continuation from his own window, and the Republican flag flying over the Jacob’s Garrison, under the command of Thomas MacDonagh, but including a diverse band of individuals like Peadar Kearney (author of The Soldiers Song), Major John MacBride and the actress Máire Ní Shiubhlaigh, a member of Cumann na mBán, the womens auxiliary force to the Irish Volunteers.

“It is half-past three o’clock, and from my window the Republican flag can still be seen flying over Jacob’s factory. There is occasional shooting, but the city as a whole is quiet. At a quarter to five o’clock
a heavy gun boomed once. Ten minutes later there was heavy machine gun firing and much rifle shooting. In another ten minutes the flag at Jacob’s was hauled down.

Many had believed that the country would rise after Dublin, and create a national uprising out of a regional one. This was not to be, with contradictory orders from national leadership leading to mass confusion. Liam Mellows mustered a force of several hundred in Galway who were involved in several attacks on police barracks’ yet did not have the capability to sustain any sort of campaign in the region. Men of the ‘Fingal Batallion’ of the Irish Volunteers would find themselves active in Ashbourne, County Meath with Thomas Ashe, where they inflicted real damage on local Royal Irish Constabulary forces. Still, the significant forces available to the Volunteers nationwide were not used, as many had obeyed the order of Eoin MacNeill and word did not travel from Dublin at a speed to allow for a nationwide insurrection.

Dan Breen, front row.

The frustration of some Volunteers outside Dublin can be clearly felt in Dan Breen’s account of news reaching him in Tipperary, and his attempts to establish contact with Sean Treacy, a leading figure of the Third Tipperary Brigade and a close friend.

“Sean had left his home on the first news of the Rebellion and cycled from one centre to another, urging the Tipperary Volunteers to take action….

…We were bitterly dissapointed that the fighting had not extended to the country. We swore that, should the fighting ever be resumed, we would be in the thick of it, no matter where it took place”

Perhaps fittingly, on the 21st of January, 1919, Sean and Dan would play no small part in resuming the fighting with the Soloheadbeg Ambush, an action that has found a place in Irish history as the event which essentially kick-started the War of Independence. Anyone new to the period should seek out the ‘Wanted’ poster for Dan Breen, which is sure to raise a chuckle, highlighting his “sulky bulldog appearance” among other things.

Events in Dublin would have a ricochet effect far beyond the city or even Irish countryside. In Wales, Captain Jack White would find himself arrested too.

Captain Jack White

White had drilled, and in fact dressed (disagreeing with Sean O’ Casey on the matter of uniforming such a workers militia), the Citizen Army long before the insurrection.

In his memoir, Misfit, White noted that “In short, I am arrested in the South Wales coalfield for trying to get the Welsh miners out on strike. Why? To save Jim Connolly being shot for his share in the Easter Rising in command of the Citizen Army. Had I succeeded I would have crippled the coal supply for the British Fleet”

Years after the insurrection, White would find himself an anarchist in Spain,and in an article published on November 11th 1936 titled “A Rebel In Barcelona: Jack White’s First Spanish Impressions” White would once again speak of the Easter Rising.

“You will have heard no doubt about the Dublin Rising of 1916. That rising is now thought of as purely a national one, of which the aims went no further than the national independence of Ireland. It is conveniently forgotten that not only was the manifesto published by the “bourgeois” leaders concieved in a spirit of extreme liberal democracy, but, associated with the “bourgeois” leaders was James Connolly, the international socialist, who some regarded as the great revolutionary fighter and organiser of his day. In command of the Irish Citizen Army, which I had drilled, he made common cause with the Republican separatists against the common Imperial enemy.”

The article was printed in the CNT-AIT Boletin de Informacion, and White concluded by stating he greeted the working class revolution with “..the voice of revolutionary Ireland”

Not all former comrades of James Connolly and the Irish Citizen Army were as kind. Sean O’Casey had walked from the Citizen Army (where he held the situation of Honorary Secretary) with maintained a belief that the Citizen Army had aligned itself too closely with what he saw as reactionary nationalist forces.

Sean O' Casey

In his ‘Story of the Irish Citizen Army’ (available to read free online over at Libcom) O’Casey wrote of the raising of the green flag over Liberty Hall, stating that in his opinion “Labour had laid its precious gift of Independence on the altar of Irish Nationalism…”

Concluding Book 3 of his own autobiography, Drums under the Windows, published in 1945, it becomes clear he did not change his views with regards the new and secondary role the Irish labour movement had taken to Irish nationalism:

“But Cathleen, the daughter of Houlihan, walks firm now, a flush on her haughty cheek. She hears the murmur in the people’s hearts. Her lovers are gathered around her, for things are changed, changed utterly.

A terrible beauty is born.

Poor, dear, dead men. Poor W.B. Yeats”

Lastly, it is worth taking a brief look at a story that is personal and not political. In Portrait of a Rebel Father , Nora Connolly O’ Brien, daughter of James Connolly, describes the initial reaction of the family to their fathers execution.

Nora Connolly O' Brien

“Mama, we must go back to the Castle and ask for daddy’s body”
“They won’t give it to us”
“We must ask”
It was refused.
“Mrs. Connolly”- a nurse came to them as they stood in the hall not knowing what to do- “before Mr. Connolly left us I cut this off for you” On her hand was a lock of daddy’s hair. Mama took it and held to her cheek all that was left of him.

Of course, the above opinions and reactions are just a small sample of what is out there. This Easter Week, we should look at the event not just as a week long insurrection, but as an event that would ricochet on through the troubles that followed and continue to spark debate long after the last bullets whizzed through the Dublin sky.

A fantastic snap from life.com from one of the the 2006 commemorations at the GPO,Dublin.

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The view here is perfect.

Those annoying pillars in the stand can see to it that for 45 minutes, you’re relying on the eyes of the person beside you to see what exactly is going on out there on the pitch. You’d want to arrive a little early (or join the veterans on the Camac) to see the game comfortably.

7.35 kick off is unusual, obviously done ‘for the telly’. Arriving at 7.45, you’d be forgiven for thinking for once you’d made kick off. Alas, you haven’t. Best just grab the first seats you spot. Straight into the first block.

Family stand. This is Monster Munch stuff. In many ways, while the youngest kids in the ground- to them this is always a big night. It’s here the half-time yoof are to be found. Lourdes and Swords Celtic as far as I recall, loads of tiny lads bracing themselves for half-time and their time on the pitch. They’re here for Saint Patricks Athletic and Sporting Fingal of course,(well eh…I don’t think anyone is here for Sporting Fingal) but they’re also here for their own bit of time. Why not? This is how you get youngsters interested of course, and how you keep kids in the game.

Paddy The Panther frowns on your vulgarity

Anyway, the ball goes out about fifteen minutes in. Oh look! It’s yer man who was playing for us last year!

OI! YOU’RE A *starts with f*ING *starts with w*KER!

Yells the brother, brilliant.

GET OFF THE PITCH YOU *starts with f*ING CLOWN!

I’m in on it now too. This is great. This is probably what I missed most about football when I got stuck working Friday nights last year. Let the steam off and all that. It might as well be Sean Fitzpatrick out there.

Then it dawns on us, this is the family stand. This is where the most hot-dogs are sold, where the most ketchup is spilled, where the most bored mammies are to be found, where the smallest of the small people go. Scarleh. A quick telling to from the father and we have to watch our mouths from here on in.

Things are different in this stand alright. It’s been years since the main stand rocked too hard (bar European nights) but up the front there are a handful of youngsters giving it loads. ‘RED ARMY!’ ‘RED ARMY!’ Parents look on in a sort of ‘awwwwh, bless’ way, but only a decade ago they wouldn’t have been alone, and it’s great to see them get into it. Granted, there are more Manchester United and Liverpool shirts in this small section than Saint Patricks Athletic ones, but once they get the bug they’ll be hooked. The idea of the family stand is a great one then.

Well into the second half, and the player me and the brother were abusing earlier is taken off.

‘BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO’ rings out from the youngsters in the block, they’re learning quick. Some day, they’ll be bringing their kids here- and much like me, they’ll be mortified by a slip of the tongue no doubt. I’ll be back with the foul-mouthed oldies next week.

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Thanks to Rashers for uploading another gem.

Eamonn Mac Thomais takes you around by Dublin Port, City Quay Church, Spencer Dock and St. Laurence O’Toole’s school in Seville Place (where Joe Clarke who fought in the Battle of Mount Street Bridge was educated).

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