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Archive for the ‘Dublin History’ Category

I’m very grateful there are people in this world with more ‘get up and go’ than I have at times! My thanks to Will Peat, a friend, for organising a visit to the Iveagh Trust Museum Flat recently through booking. The flat is tiny, but it offers huge insight on a former Dublin.

All images my own.

The Iveagh Trust buildings, built by Edward Cecil Guinness, the first Earl of Iveagh, were in some ways a monument in themselves to the philanthroy of the Guinness family. Built to house the working poor of Dublin, they were remarkably ahead of their time when contrasted for example with the Foley Street Corporation Buildings and other such Dublin Corporation dwellings also constructed in the early 1900’s.

As Andrew Kincaid noted in his study Postcolonial Dublin: imperial legacies and the built environment: “In 1890, on the back of the Dublin Improvement Act of 1889, a group of Protestant and Unionist businessmen and politicians formed the Guinness, later the Iveagh, Trust.” Edward Cecil Guinness outlined his belief that the Iveagh Trust would strive for “the amelioration of the condition of the poorer of the working classes.”

The area where the Iveagh Trust buildings stand now was once among the worst slums in the city. It’s a great irony in Dublin’s history that right next to the fortified home of political power in Ireland, Dublin Castle, one found many of the poorest Dubliners. The homes Guinness constructed, simple two or three bedroom tenements, were a million miles removed from what stood there before.

While the Iveagh Trust flats would be modernised in time, the Trust have maintained one small flat for museum purposes. Number 3B has changed little in the century since the opening of the buildings, and today it serves as a sort of Dublin time capsule. Stepping into it, you get a great social insight into a Dublin long gone.

This was home to Nellie Molloy, who passed in 2002 at the very impressive age of 95. She’d lived through major changes in Irish society, and the area around the building saw much change. In the short-time we spend in the apartment, our guide Liam tells us some great small details about Nellie, such as the fact she was a Trade Union shop steward in her time, and we learn something of the man who gazes over the small apartment, Sgt. Major Henry John Molloy, a veteran of the Boer War and the Great War. Below the picture of the Sgt. Major, a piano sits proudly, testament to the fact Nellie enjoyed hosting guests in her small flat. Liam tells us that he knew Nellie to talk to, and that she was a treasure trove of information on Dublin’s past.

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I acquired this great image recently, from the Illustrated War News Oct. 20 1915, it shows a group of “Officers of the 2/7th (Robin Hood) Battalion, Sherwood Foresters”.

Less than a year after this photo was taken, the Sherwood Foresters, described here as “fighters for the freedom of Europe”, would find themselves at the heart of the bloodiest battle of the Easter Rising in Dublin. 240 British soldiers were wounded or killed at Mount Street Bridge, where they came under sustained attack from a small band of Volunteers.

I always remember the first hand account of Captain A.A Dickson of the Sherwood Foresters, who wrote of the “baptism of fire” the men encountered at Mount Street Bridge. 25 Northumberland Road was the building from which Volunteer Michael Malone and Volunteer James Grace attacked, inflicting major casualties on the Sherwood Foresters. Dickson would recall:

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.”

The house today (Donal Fallon)

If the Sherwood Foresters encountered such resistance, and suffered such heavy casualties in Dublin, surely some the men at the centre of the Battle for Mount Street Bridge feature in the image above?

I consulted Paul O’Brien’s excellent Blood On The Streets for more information. O’Brien has been writing detailed accounts of the battles of various 1916 garrisons, which look at the events in incredible detail which of course just isn’t possible in a broader study of the rebellion. Blood On The Streets (Mercier, 2008) tells the tale of Mount Street Bridge. I consulted it, and the classic Sinn Féin Rebellion Handbook, for an idea of how the men pictured above got on.

From the Sinn Féin rebellion handbook, I learned that two men shown were killed in action, while two were wounded.

L.T P.D Perry, third from the left in the back row, lost his life in the rebellion.
Likewise, Lt. Frederick Dietrichsen would perish.
Captain Hickling, second right in the middle row was wounded.
Also wounded was Lt. Pragnell, sitting on the ground on the left hand side.

Captain Dietrichsen

The story of Captain Dietrichsen was particularly tragic. O’Brien gives some background information on Dietrichsen in his study, noting that he had previously been a barrister in Nottingham. He had sent his wife (who originally hailed from Blackrock) and two children to Dublin “to protect them from the ever-increasing German Zeppelin raids”, yet was taken aback to encounter his family as the Sherwood Foresters marched towards the city. O’Brien notes that: “Captain Dietrichsen dropped out of formation and hugged his family at the side of the road. He was to be one of the first killed in action during the battle of Mount Street.”

The other side of the newspaper page shows men of the Sherwood Foresters in very relaxed post,and notes that “….standing on a pile of fodder, is Nancy, the battalion mascot goat.”

It’s certainly an unusual set of photographs, and I found it fascinating to see the faces of some of the men who were at the heart of the Battle for Mount Street Bridge for the first time. Today, the battle site resembles its ‘1916 form’ much more than many other sites of combat, and 25 Northumberland Road is marked with a small plaque to Volunteer Michael Malone.

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My brother sent me on a link to these snaps this morning; based in London, someone had shared them with him given the week that’s in it. The full collection can be found here , I’ve only posted the Dublin (and Wicklow) related ones. Courtesy of the Library of Congress, Washington .

The Shelbourne Hotel

The Shelbourne Hotel

St. Patrick's Cathedral

Phoenix Park

Bray Head

Cheers to Richie for the shout out!

 

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The brief piece below was written for publication in a student newspaper at University College Dublin. Frank Flood was a UCD student who was active within society life on campus, as well as being a member of the Irish Republican Army. He was one of the ‘Forgotten Ten’ buried in Mountjoy Prison, and the below piece is not so much a brief biographical sketch of his life as a look at his legacy to his college. It features in the current edition of ‘The College Tribune’.

Gerry Collins, President of the Students’ Representative Council of UCD, dipping the national flag outside the GPO during a march of UCD students to remember Kevin Barry and Frank Flood, November 1960

The republican history of UCD runs deep. Today, the campus boasts a building named in honour of feminist and republican Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington as well as a plaque in the Newman Building to the young poet Charlie Donnelly, who gave his life in defence of the Spanish Republic with the International Brigades. Our list of celebrated republican graduates crosses the Treaty divide, with men like Kevin O’ Higgins and Richard Mulcahy on the side of the Treaty, and men like the great character Ernie O’Malley on the other. Michael Hayes, a founding member of the Irish Volunteers who was at Jacobs Factory during the 1916 rebellion, even went on to become a Professor with the Irish Department of UCD. Perhaps our most celebrated revolutionary however is Kevin Barry, immortalised by The Ballad of Kevin Barry, which has been recorded and performed by singers as diverse as Paul Robeson and Leonard Cohen. The song is even referenced by Dexy’s Midnight Runners in their My Life In England, capturing its importance to the second-generation Irish in the United Kingdom:

I can remember St Theresa’s social where “Kevin Barry” rang out,
My mum whispered to me “Kevin, In England that song is not allowed”

Frank Flood is a name which may not be instantly recognisable to some in the way the name of Kevin Barry is, yet he is another young UCD student who gave his life during the War of Independence, executed at only nineteen years old. One of the ‘Forgotten Ten’, Flood not alone studied at UCD but was active within its society life. Todd Andrews, another UCD student active in the republican movement, perhaps put it best when he wrote in his memoirs that “as Kevin Barry passed into the nation’s mythology, Frank Flood’s name is scarcely remembered.”

Frank Flood (With thanks to members of the 'IrishVolunteers.org' society)

Francis Xavier Flood was the son of a policeman, born in 1901. The siblings in his family were firmly republican however, and of the eight Flood boys most were active within the Volunteers. Sean Flood, the eldest of the boys, had served five years in a Scottish jail for his republican activities, and died soon after his release. Young Frank Flood was educated at O’Connell Schools, run by the Christian Brothers and located on the North Circular Road. It was here he first met Kevin Barry, with whom he formed a friendship . Flood ended up winning a university scholarship in 1918 which saw him enter the Engineering School of UCD, while Barry was a medical student. While at the college Frank became active within the Literary and Historical Society. There was a strong republican presence in UCD at the time, though as Todd Andrews noted “there were a number of students who were known to be IRA men, but unless they were in the same Company or Battalion, they never spoke or associated with one another on the basis of their common allegiance.”

Flood had been captured while attacking the Dublin Metropolitan Police at Drumcondra on January 21 1921, and the event is popularly known as the ‘Drumcondra Ambush’ today. Flood, at only nineteen years of age, held the role of First Lieutenant ASU (Active Service Unit) of the Dublin Brigade.He had led an assault which saw three Volunteers lose their lives (two on the scene), and five others sentenced to death for their role in that attack, with Flood himself found with a grenade in his pocket. He was charged with High Treason, found guilty, and executed by hanging on March 14th 1921 at Mountjoy Prison. Kevin Barry had gone to his death in much the same way in 1920, and it is said Flood requested to be buried as close as possible to his former friend and comrade.

On the 40th anniversary of the death of Kevin Barry, six members of the Students’ Representative Council of UCD laid wreaths upon the graves of Frank Flood and Kevin Barry, inside the grounds of Mountjoy Prison. Hundreds of students marched from the college at Earlsfort Terrace to the General Post Office on November 1st 1960 to pay their respects to the two, before heading onwards to the final resting place of the two UCD students. This tradition continued in the years afterwards, for example in 1963 when 500 students joined the procession. There had been questions around whether the students would be allowed continue with their march in the years following the 40th anniversary, however the matter was settled following meetings between the Students Council and the Minister for Justice. The Minister was a certain Mr.Haughey, a graduate of UCD who had been among those Earlsfort Terrace students who burned a Union Jack outside that other Dublin university on Victory in Europe Day, 1945. On that day, Trinity College Dublin students had raised the flags of some of the victorious nations over the front of the college, with an Irish tricolour at the bottom of the mast.

Frank Flood (With thanks to members of the IrishVolunteers.org society)

The Kevin Barry window stands on campus today as a memorial in honour of that young republican, but was first unveiled at Earlsfort Terrace. At the time of its unveiling, Frank Ryan, another UCD student of old, wrote in the pages of the left-wing Republican Congress that:

At last, a Kevin Barry memorial has been unveiled at University College Dublin. The present committee were people who had no connection with the War of Independence nor with the organisaitons which participated in it. It is understandable therefore- though inexcusable- that few of Kevin Barry’s comrades were invited by the committee and that, instead, a Blueshirt presided and the anti-Republican President of UCD was given an opportunity to shed tears for the Boy-Martyr of 1920.

Ryan commented that he was glad at least Frank Flood was mentioned by one speaker. Ryan himself had graduated from UCD in 1925 with a second class honours BA in Celtic Studies. Interestingly, while a student at UCD, it is sometimes said that Ryan fell for Elgin Barry, the sister of Kevin.

On March 3rd 1967 ,UCD Professor Michael Hogan, Dean of the Faculty of Engineering, made it into the Irish Independent for refusing to chair a student debate around the motion that “God is dead” The motion had been chosen by the Mechanical and Engineering Socieities for discussion at the final of the Frank Flood Shield debating competition. Hogan objected primarily on the grounds that Flood held strong religious convictions and would have disapproved. Hogan had been a friend of Flood during his time in college.

Today, Flood is buried in Glasnevin Cemetery, as is Kevin Barry. Their bodies were removed from Mountjoy Prison in October 2001, with full State Funerals awarded to the ‘Forgotten Ten’ buried in the prison. One of the Volunteers was then buried in Limerick, the rest are side by side in Glasnevin Cemetery today.

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Stephens Green, nd.

Five stories, some you know and some you may not know, about our beautiful St. Stephens Green and the surrounding area.

1. Public executions

Up until the 1770s, most public hangings and executions took place in St. Stephens Green. Prisoners would be moved to the gallows, on a cart, from the old Newgate prison near Cornmarket.

On October 24 1773, a Mrs Herring was “burnt alive” in the Green after she was convicted of murdering her husband.

The method of execution of was as as follows:

She was placed on a stool something more than two feet high, and, a chain being placed under her arms, the rope round her neck was made fast to two spikes, which, being driven through a post against which she stood, when her devotions were ended, the stool was taken from under her, and she was soon strangled. When she had hung about fifteen minutes, the rope was burnt, and she sunk till the chain supported her, forcing her hands up to a level with her face, and the flame being furious, she was soon consumed. The crowd was so immensely great that it was a long time before the faggots could be placed for the execution [1] Sylvanus Urban, The gentleman’s magazine, and historical chronicle, Volume 43 (London, 1773), 461

Infamous brothel keeper and serial killer Darkey Kelly was said to have been publicly burnt in the green in 1761. (Others suggest her execution actually occurred on Baggot Street).

2. The Ghostly Cross

For years, every Holy Thursday, large crowds of Dubliners would gather at 80 Stephens Green, Iveagh House to see if a cross would appear on one pain of glass on an upstairs windows. Some thought it had to do with the legend that the house stood where the Archbishop of Cashel, Dr. Hurley was killed in 1583 while others thought it had to do with a dying servant girl whose  rosary beads were taken off her and thrown out the window (see below). A carpenter wrote to a Dublin newspaper suggesting it had something to do with reflections and the way the house was built!

The Irish Press. Oct 27, 1976.

3. Garden for the Blind

In the central area of the park, there’s a ‘Garden for the Blind’ which has scented plants labelled in Braille. Opened in 1972, the garden also contains a seat commemorating two Protestant feminist trade unionists, Louise Bennett (1870 – 1956) and Helen Chenevix (1890 – 1963).

4. Anti-Semitic murder

The steps of No. 95 Stephens Green was the scene of the murder of Manchester Jew and father of four, Bernard Golderg (42) on October 31, 1923. On November 14, Emmanuel Kahn (24), another Jew, was gunned down on Stamer Street in the heart of what was Little Jerusalem. In 2007, it was revealed that two Free State officers who were the main suspects fled to Mexico and the United States after the shootings.

The Irish Independent. Nov 01, 1923.

5. Hunting

Right up until the nineteenth century, it was able to shoot snipe (“a wading bird of marshes and wet meadows”) in the middle of the Green. Walter Harris noted in his History and Antiquities of the City of Dublin (published posthumously in 1766) that “an incredible number of snipe attracted by the swampiness of the Green in that season, and to avoid their enemies, the sportsmen – an agreeable and most uncommon circumstance, not to be met with in any city in the world”.

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The statues and monuments of Dublin are a frequent feature here on the site. Many are familiar to Dubliners and still with us today, but some are no longer with us and were the subject of considerable controversy in their day. An example of a public ornament no longer with us is ‘The Bowl Of Light’, placed on O’Connell Bridge in 1953.

The Bowl Of Light, minus its flames.

The Bowl was the centrepiece of the An Tóstal scheme of decorations on the O’Connell Bridge in 1953. The An Tóstal event was an annual festival which ran 1953 to 1958, aimed at promoting Ireland as a tourist destination, and also luring Irish exiles home to reengage with the country. It was, quite simply, to be a celebration of Irish culture and traditions at home. In April 1952 a report in The Irish Times gave some idea of the ambition of the project, noting that:

The Board stressed that while An Tóstal whill be based in Dublin, it will be of national interest. “It will be intended that the whole country will, for the period of three weeks, be at home to Irish exiles and friends from everywhere.”

Major-Gen Hugo MacNeill was appointed organiser of An Tóstal. On the eve of the event, he wrote that:

In a few days the flag of An Tóstal will be hoisted ceremoniously all over Ireland, and the Easter fires blazing on the hills of Ireland will illuminate the skies with the message of IRELAND AT HOME!

The event would see the erection of ornaments and public art throughout the capital, but no piece captured the attention of the public quite like ‘The Bowl Of Light’, owing primarily to the fact it was to be a permanent feature.

The Bowl was described in The Irish Times, who noted that:

The copper bowl, with a diameter of about 4 feet, is fitted to a semi-circular bridge of tubular girders which spans an octagonal basin, measuring about 15 ft. by 18 ft. and containing about a foot depth of water. The many coloured plastic “flames”, which could revolve, were set in the bowl, and at night were illuminated from the inside.

The Bowl had been erected behind hoardings, meaning that the public were unable to see what it was that was to be placed on the bridge. In the region of 3,000 people gathered on Saturday April 3rd 1953 to see the unveiling of ‘The Bowl Of Light’, around which there was great curiosity among the public.

The Irish Independent reported that things turned ugly on the Saturday night, as Gardaí struggled to free traffic lanes and found themselves having to draw their batons against the large crowd. The paper noted that: ‘In scenes which followed floral decorations were thrown at Gardaí and windows were broken in a number of shops in O’Connell Street, including Clery’s. About 12 arrests were made.’

It was reported by the Sunday Independent that “at no time did the force of Gardaí on duty appear adequate to deal with the disturbance.”

The Sunday Independent reports.

While there was widespread bemusement at ‘The Bowl Of Light’, it would become one of Dublin’s most short lived public ornaments. On April 19th, only weeks after its unveiling, the ‘flames’ from the Bowl were chucked into the River Liffey, the actions of Anthony Wilson, a young student of Trinity College Dublin.

Wilson had been at a party, which was described in the courts of law as “a particularly good party.” Following it, he and friends went around the city enjoying themselves, and were spotted standing on the O’Connell Bridge complete with umbrellas, despite it being a fine day. The students made speeches there to the public, and it was evidently clear to those who heard them that a fair amount of alcohol had been consumed. “Wilson could not explain how he came to take the light and throw it into the river.”

Witnesses described witnessing a young man climb upon the parapet of the basin,pull the flames from the bowl and make his way towards the parapet of the bridge, hurling the plastic flames into the river. The young man made a run for it, but was caught on Aston’s Quay. Newspaper reports noted that some members of the crowd had shouted “Throw him in the river!” at Gardaí following his arrest. The student was ordered to pay £48 7/6 to cover the damages.

The ‘Bowl’ attracted its fair share of detractors in the letters pages of the national newspapers. However none were as loud in their criticisms as Myles na gCopaleen, who lambasted the Bowl and the Tóstal event itself. On April 9th 1953, Myles wrote tongue-in-cheek of those who had been responsible for the scenes at O’Connell Bridge on the Saturday prior.

Myles na gCopaleen, who attached The Bowl Of Light in his Cruiskeen Lawn column.

I did not have the pleasure to be in Dublin last Saturday night but absence did not deny me a glow of pride when I learnt what the citizens did when the pubs closed at ten. They decided to give the odd gawking visitor a real Irish welcome…..Here we had Cathleen Ni Hooligan in person.

He went on to attack the Bowl, writing that it was:

….an appalling piece of iron work bearing a basin out of which emerges a ‘plastic flame’. This metal thing has a spout on it, and the original intention was to have a “fountain” on the bridge. Nothing will ever in our time come out of that spout, but how much of the rate-payers cash has gone up it for this change of ‘plan’?

No need to guess. The figure is £1,768

With the flames long in the river, the Bowl continued to cause controversy through 1953 and into 1954. In November of 1953 Colm Gallagher T.D voiced his opinion, as the Sunday Independent reported, that:

O’Connell Bridge has been spoiled by the ‘slab of concrete’ and it was a disgrace to the city to see workmen using shovels during recent weeks to remove the water from the various openings.

While the Bowl itself was to be removed, the rest of the structure on O’Connell Bridge would remain until a decade on, in 1963. It is perhaps most commonly remembered among Dubliners today as ‘The Tomb Of The Unknown Gurrier’. The late Basil Payne would pen an excellent epitaph for the ‘Tomb Of The Unknown Gurrier, writing that:

The City Fathers’ grim myopia
confines me to this non-U-topia;
to reinforce their sentiment
They buried me in thick cement.

Today of course the traffic island between both sides of the O’Connell Bridge is popular with pedestrian traffic. Still, giving the state of the nation, perhaps a Begging Bowl Of Light wouldn’t go amiss!

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An interesting series of lectures are to be held in the Ireland Institute on Pearse Street in May, which will examine a number of movements and periods of importance in Irish history. Helena Sheehan will chair the talks, which will examine issues as diverse as the Soviets of the War of Independence period and the Hedge School tradition. While all five talks look appealing and stimulating,I’m especially looking forward to the talk on the Land League, by Fin Dwyer of the Irish History Podcast series, and Conor Kostick’s talk on the Soviets, as his Revolution in Ireland was such a groundbreaking contribution to the historiography of the period.

The talks have been organised by the ‘Occupy University’ group, and will be recorded for Dublin Community Television.

Wed 2 May: Patrick Bresnihan on hedge schools
Wed 9 May: Fin Dwyer on the land league
Wed 16 May: Emmet O’Connor on syndicalism
Wed 23 May: Conor Kostick on soviets
Wed 30 May: Rosemary Cullen-Owens on first wave feminism

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Sinn Féin Rebellion Postcard (Fallon collection)

In 1966, the then President of Maynooth College, the Right Rev. Monsignor Gerard Mitchell, invited the surviving members of an Irish Volunteers contingent who hard marched from Maynooth into Dublin to partake in the 1916 Rising to the College. There, a mass took place celebrated by an Fr. Tomhas O Fiaich, the Professor of Modern History at Maynooth.

It was a far cry from the last time some of those Volunteers had set foot in Maynooth College. In 1916, led by Domhnall Ua Buachalla (later the Governor General of the Free State) , a group of local Volunteers found themselves in a very different situation. ‘The movement’ as far as the Irish Volunteers were concerned, was quite well organised in North Kildare, and Lieutenant Eamonn O’ Kelly of the Volunteers arrived in Maynooth on Holy Thursday. He was aware of the plan for an insurrection on Easter Sunday, after being appointed to his position as a County Organiser by none other than P.H Pearse.

O’ Kelly had plans for the North Kildare Volunteers. He told Domhnall Ua Buachalla, the local leader of the force, to assemble his men on Easter Sunday in Maynooth town, and from there proceed to Bodenstown Churchyard, to meet with other Kildare Volunteers. Writing of his memories of this in 1926 for An tÓglách magazine (‘The Maynooth Volunteers In 1916’) Commandant Patrick Colgan noted that “Each man was asked if he was prepared to take part in the insurrection and each man agreed”

Counter-orders caused confusion, and Colgan noted that no sooner had the men committed themselves to a rising than word came through via a dispatch from Dublin that the mobilisation was called off. It would be Monday evening before they knew for sure an insurrection was underway. The men were armed, though they didn’t carry rifles- but rather single shotguns and roughly 40 rounds of ammunition.

“Many of us had never handled a gun prior to this and much practising in the loading and unloading of our weapons now took place” Colgan noted.

It was 7.15pm on Easter Monday before the men left Maynooth. By this stage, the Rising was well underway in Dublin and key positions had been seized by the rebels.

Domhnall Ua Buachalla, seated on right.

Before leaving Maynooth, the men proceeded through the main street to the College.C olgan noted that “..there were rumors to the effect that some of the students were anxious to join us” and the Volunteers also wanted to interview one of their own who had answered the original mobilisation call. “Our quest for this employee brought us to the building occupied by the late Very Rev. J. Hogan , D.D, President of the College” The President called on Domhnall O’ Buachalla to return home and to see to it his fellow Volunteers did the same. Undaunted, the men marched out the south-east gate of the College, and were now on route to Dublin.

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I thought this worth scanning, as it deals with a statue recent featured on the site. The Albert statue was originally to be located at College Green, but found itself ultimately in the grounds of the Royal Dublin Society. It may surprise some of you to hear the statue is still in Dublin, though now it is inside the grounds of Leinster House.

Henry Grattan of course occupies the space at College Green where Albert was originally to be located, and Irish nationalist newspaper ‘The Nation’ stated at the time: “The idea that Prince Albert’s statue would ever be raised in College Green was manifestly as hopeless and wild as a design to move the Hill of Howth”

The piece on the Albert/Grattan controversy can be read here.

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(Article first published in Look Left, Vol.2 Issue 10)

Featuring heavily on a recently issued Reekus Records anthology, ‘Too Late To Stop Now’, Sam McGrath explores the music and politics of The Blades.

reekus.com

Socially conscious, musically gifted and uncompromising in their attitude towards the manipulative music industry, The Blades remain one the most revered and important Irish bands of all time.

The genius of Paul Cleary, lead singer and songwriter of the band, lay in his ability to craft both memorable love songs and standout tracks about the critical issues of his generation – boredom, unemployment and a crippling recession. Class conscious and sympathetic to socialist politics, Cleary “tried to get that into (his) music without browbeating people”.

Lending support to various worthwhile causes, The Blades played numerous benefit gigs throughout the 1980s. These included gigs for Rock Against Sexism in UCD in February 1980, for the families of those who died in the Stardust fire in 1981, for the pro-choice Anti-Amendment campaign in September 1982 and for the Dunnes Stores anti-apartheid striking workers in January 1985. In 1986, they famously shunned the ‘back-slapping’ Self-Aid to play the left-wing Rock The System one-day music festival at Liberty Hall.

Brian Foley & Paul Cleary (Mill Butler)

The Blades roots lay in their working-class, southeast Dublin 4 neighborhood of Ringsend. Spurred into action by the Punk explosion, they made their live debut as a five piece at their local Catholic Young Men’s Society (CYMS) Hall in the summer of 1977. Ironically, the plug was pulled on the gig early when the sound engineer took exception to the band playing God Save the Queen; not understanding it was The Sex Pistols version (!).

Subsequently with Cleary on bass, his brother Lar on guitar and childhood friend Pat Larkin on drums, the band were a formidable trio. The sharply dressed, melodic post-punk outfit played ‘short, punchy, guitar-driven songs’ that suited the live, intense atmosphere of their first home, The Magnet, a tough local bar on Pearse Street.  These early gigs, only enjoyed by a room full of forty or so Mods and Soul Boys, would go down as some of the best in Dublin’s live music history.

A year later, they were in The Baggot Inn playing a famous six-week residency with another fledging Dublin band – U2. Dave Fanning, who DJ’d at the gigs, recalls that parts of the crowd would leave straight after The Blades, ignoring U2. The two bands couldn’t have been more different. While Cleary and co. would unleash an assault of high-tempo, three-minute pop/soul numbers, Bono used to come on stage and tell the “crowd of a dream he had the night before’

u2theearlydayz.com

This first line up of The Blades, which lasted from 1977 to 1982, released two fantastic singles; the catchy summer pop classic Hot For You in 1980 followed a year later with the more mature, Ghost of a Chance which dealt with love across the class divide. Disenchanted with the failure of Energy Records to proceed with the planned LP, Lar and Pat left the band.

Replaced by bassist Brian Foley (ex. The Vipers) and drummer Jake Reilly, Cleary took over guitar duties. Coupled with the horns section of the Blues Brass, a ‘couple of renegade musicians from The Artane Boys Band’, this more developed and ambitious model recorded a LP with Elektra but in a nasty turn of events, the record company, who had recently lost a substantial amount trying to break Howard Jones into the American market, decided not to release it.

Left with a finished product (recorded in London with The Smiths’ producer John Porter) but with little else, The Blades found themselves in a frustrating scenario. Luckily the record was eventually released, to critical acclaim, by the pioneering Irish label Reekus. Cleary, a life long fan of George Orwell, titled the LP The Last Man In Europe, the original choice of name for 1984.

Before their one and only studio album was released, The Blades brought out three first-rate singles. The guitar-driven The Bride Wore White in March 1982 which was voted single of the year in the Hot Press National Poll with Cleary also winning Best Irish Songwriter beating Bono, Van Morrison and Phil Lynott. It was followed later that year by Revelations Of Heartbreak, the multi-layered brass-tastic dancefloor stomper.

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An interesting image and quote this. The Table Campaign was founded in 1996, around the time of the IRA’s shattering of the 17 month ceasefire, with the Canary Wharf bombing on 9th February that year.

The concept was to set up a load of tables on O’Connell bridge and invite people passing by to sit down and discuss what peace should look like at those tables. There was some Sinn Fein involvement and they argued for a giant table as a striking press image. On the day of the event however all that appeared was a giant table, maybe 3m high, far too high in the air for anyone to sit at, dominating the bridge. The lesser tables for the ordinary people to sit and discuss what a popular peace process might look like did not appear. Symbolic, if perhaps accidentally, of the process as a whole where the rest of the population were limited to the role of watching the drama around the big table at Stormont.”

Thanks to Andrew Flood for the image and accompanying quote.

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This Irish Times photo shows Shamrock Rovers fans outside Milltown Road following the 1-1 draw in Dublin that saw Rovers knocked out of European football in 1984.

The visit of Belfast’s Linfield to Milltown Road to face Shamrock Rovers in a European Champions Cup clash in 1984 was one of the largest football related security operations in the history of the state. The two-leg draw between the Belfast and Dublin sides made headlines on both sides of the border before a ball had been kicked, with The Irish Times report on the drawing of the two clubs together noting that it was the “spectre of the collision of the Orange and Green” that marked the draw out.

Much of the fear around the class had come out of events in Dundalk in August 1979, when Linfield and Dundalk faced each other at Oriel Park. Almost 500 Gardaí were involved in policing that encounter, and journalist Peter Byrne wrote after the clash that “this was the night when the concept of All-Ireland club football was killed stone dead. Two hours of raw, naked tribalism on the terraces of Oriel Park convinced even the most reformist among us that the dark gospel of the paramilitaries has permeated Irish sport to the point where all attempts at reconciliation are futile.”

Prior to the first round clash at Windsor Park in Belfast, there had been violence at Dalymount Park during a clash between Bohs and the visiting Glasgow Rangers in the same week. Among the Rangers support was a healthy contingent of supporters from Northern Ireland. The clash in Windsor Park on September 20th 1984 was played out before a near silent crowd of 6000, with The Irish Times reporting that “In stark contrast to the turbulent scenes in Dalymount Park 24 hours earlier, there was never the hint of crowd violence. Only a few Union Jacks were in evidence to taunt the visitors and, almost inevitably, there was not one spectator sporting the emblem of Shamrock Rovers to be seen anywhere in the ground.” It ended a nil all draw.

Jim McLaughlin, Shamrock Rovers manager at the time of the fixtures with Linfield, had held the same position at the time of the ‘Linfield Riots’ in Dundalk. Prior to the Rovers games, he stated in the media that: “Some people will attempt to attach a dimension to this fixture that will have nothing to do with football. Relations between the two clubs are good and I can only hope that the fans will have learned from the experiences of Dundalk.”

On September 25th Linfield Supporters Clubs were told by the club that Shamrock Rovers were unwilling to sell them tickets. Newspaper reports suggested that a sizeable group intended to travel tickets or no tickets. This greatly worried the club, as Linfield had found themselves having to play games in Holland following the violence at the time of their trip to Dundalk. Initally, Rovers had offered 1,500 tickets to Linfield supporters, smaller than the away allocation in normal circumstances. The club withdrew this offered allocation, and club chairman Louis Kilcoyle issued a statement which read:

Shamrock Rovers Football Club have advised Linfield FC that there will be no allocation of tickets to Linfield for the second leg of the European Cup tie at Miltown on October 3rd.

This decision has been taken to ensure that the second leg game takes place without incident and in a atmosphere as prevailed as Belfast last Wednesday.

Newspaper build-up to the clash focused on off the pitch matters, and when the clash actually did occur Rovers went out to Linfield, owing to a one-all draw in Dublin. Inside the ground, one newspaper reporter counted sixteen tricolours, and three Union Jacks.

The Irish Times reported on the trip to Dublin undertaken by one Linfield Supporters Club. There were 200 Linfield supporters in Dublin, and as the paper noted it wasn’t until Linfield’s goal their presence was felt. Following the encounter, the sound of ‘The Sash’ could be heard from the travelling contingent, while it was noted Dermot Keely received some abuse from the visitors. “Keeley, you Fenian Bastard!” was shouted, to which he responded with two fingers.

Outside, there was little in the line of the ‘hooligan’ element expected (or hoped for!) by those in the media. Gardaí in riot gear were met by around 100 Shamrock Rovers fans who threw stones at Gardaí as they awaited the exit of Linfield’s travelling support from the stadium. A Garda sergeant was reported as saying “it was our own who were the gurriers today” following the match. Yet the few dozen youths throwing stones didn’t live up to the newspaper reporting in the lead-up to the clash. Certainly, the violence was not on par with some seen in Irish soccer grounds in the 1980s, for example the disgraceful scenes at Richmond Park in April of 1986 at an FAI Cup Semi-Final between Saint Patrick’s Athletic and Waterford United. The fixation with the Linfield clash no doubt centered around the broader context of north-south relations, and memories of events in Dundalk.

In 1989, Shamrock Rovers fanzine the ‘Glenmalure Gazette’ ran a tongue-in-cheek feature from ‘R.Anglelodge’ on why Linfield supporters were the best in Ireland. It joked that:

Louis Kilcoyne recognised that Linfield fans were the best in Ireland. He didn’t think twice about banning Rovers scumbags from going to the European Cup game in Belfast. He was absolutely correct to let us blues fans go to Milltown. Two weeks before the match we had helped the Huns to try and wreck Dublin. We deserved the chance to have another go at it!

From 'The Glenmalure Gazette' (March 1989)

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