Come Here To Me!

Back in October 2010, Donal touched briefly on an old Dublin legend about a solder who met a grim fate in the crypt of Christchurch. The story was recounted in Padraic O’ Farrell’s 1983 book The Ernie O’ Malley Story:

“Ernie received a note written by Rory O’ Connor in Mountjoy on 12 September. It told him of a tunnel leading to the Four Courts which could be used if they had left any important documents behind. One piece of folklore attached to that area of the city concerned a tunnel from there to Christchurch, built in the thirteenth century when a Dominican friary of St. Saviour occupied the Four Courts site.

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, an army officer was accidentally locked in the tunnel which was used for storing ceremonial paraphernalia. He was soon documented as ‘missing, presumed dead’ until the next occasion demanding the opening of the tunnel. Near its entrance was discovered the skeleton of the officer and in the bones of his right hand was his sword. Lying about were the broken bone fragments of up to 250 rats that had attacked and had been beaten off by the mans sword before he himself was overcome.”

From looking at a number of different sources, it seems likely that there is some truth to this macarbe story.

Christ Church crypt. Credit – http://kieranmccarthy.ie

The earliest substantial reference I can find is from 1907. Samuel A. Ossory Fitzpatrick’s book Dublin: A Historical and Topographical Account of the City describes the

…tragic interest attached to the tablet to Sir Samuel Auchmuty, G.C.B., who died in 1822 while in command of forces in Ireland. It is said that at his funeral an officer lost his way in the crypt, was accidentally locked in, and was there devoured by rats, which probably swarmed from the great sewer which led from the cathedral to the Liffey. His skeleton is said to have been afterwards found still grasping his sword,  and surrounded by the bones of numbers of rats which he had slain before being overcome.

I believe this story was taken from page 33 of the 1901 book The Cathedral Church of the Holy Trinity, Dublin by William Butler but unfortunately the full book is not available to view online.

An article published in The Irish Times on 8 September 1926 repeats the story and names the poor soldier as ‘Lieutenant Mercier’.

The story was recounted, without a name for the dead soldier, in an 1940 article by P. J. McCall entitled ‘In the Shadow of Christ Church’ in the Dublin Historical Record journal.

Sir Samuel Auchmuty certainly died in 1822 and his funeral was held in Christchurch so the story’s backdrop does match up.

Samuel Auchmuty funeral arrangements. The Freemans Journal, 20 August 1822

Elgy Gillispie writing in the The Irish Times on 19 June 1975 fleshed out the story considerably. The journalist was given a tour of the vaults of the Cathedral by guide Joe Coady who recounts the tale of the ‘Tragic Demise of Lieutenant Blacker”:

In August 1822, this young officer of the 78th Regiment of Foot came down with fellow mourners into the crypt to attend the funeral of his colonel, a Sir Samuel Auchmuty … In the gloom of the crypt Blacker lost his sense of direction and inadvertently wandered into the underground passage … He was attacked by a species of large river rats that populated the tunnels … His skeleton was found, picked clean to the bone, beside his broken sword by a search party two days later. After that the tunnel was filled.

Tour guide Joe Coady said that the sword was still in the possession of the Cathedral but not kept on display.

Like most old tales, there’s a couple of versions. Kevin Fitzsimons told an Irish Press journalist, in a 6 July 1967 article, that it was a “dragoon officer” who was got lost in the passageways with his dog. He was found months later eaten by rats while his dog had been accidently decapitated in the fight for survival.

More recently, a Dublin haunted ghost tour company are telling tourists this story but in their version, the soldier is killed after being locked into one of crypts by accident after a drinking session.

Next week, I will focus on the stories about the tunnel that allegedly ran from the crypt of Christchurch Cathederal, under the Liffey, to St Saviours Priory (site of the present Four Courts).

Mounted police in Dublin at the time of the 1913 Lockout (UCC Multitext)

One of the more peculiar incidents in the course of the 1913 lockout in Dublin was a football clash in Ringsend, when Bohemians and Shelbourne went head to head in a match that occurred early on in the dispute. There was physical confrontation at this clash between trade unionists and football supporters, and the popular story has it that Jim Larkin accused the Bohemians side of having scabs in its ranks. This article aims to look at newspapers (including the organ of Larkin’s movement) from the period and other sources and try to piece together just what happened in Ringsend. It seems to me, that in reality, it was not alone Bohemians but also Shelbourne who Larkin took issue with, and that the story of Bohs alone being singled out by Larkin just doesn’t hold up.

Shelbourne and Bohemians were already two well established working class institutions in Dublin by the time of the 1913 Lockout. Writing in his classic book Dublin Made Me, C.S Andrews noted that at the time of his youth “there were only two senior soccer clubs in Dublin – Bohemians and Shelbourne- and the people on the southside followed Shelbourne.” He went on to write that “the supporters and players of the game were exclusively of the lower middle and working classes”.

The first reference to trouble at a clash between the two sides during the Lockout that I stumbled across was in the pages of Padraig Yeates’ classic account Lockout: Dublin 1913, where it is noted that the a game between the two sides on August 30th saw “about six thousand spectators” gather in Ringsend, where they were met by “a picket of about a hundred tramway men” who had gathered outside the ground and exchanged insults with the football crowd. Yeates quotes The Irish Times who noted that “the members of the Bohemian team, who pluckily drove to the scene of the scene of the match on outside cars through a hostile crowd of roughs, were assailed with coarse epithets.”

By this stage, the dispute between Larkin and William Martin Murphy had been underway for several days. Yet why was their hostility towards these football players? Why was there a picket of striking tramway men in Ringsend that day in the first place? The answer to that is found in the pages of the Irish Worker, where Larkin’s paper had denounced two players publicly as ‘scabs’. He had also allegedly attacked this match in a speech he had delivered the night previously to it, and called on workers not to attend the clash between the sides unless to picket it. Of the two players named in the paper, only one of these players was from Bohs however, Jack Millar. The other player, Jack Lowry, lined up for Shelbourne. This game was actually a charity game to inaugurate the new Shels ground, but with tensions high in Dublin following the outbreak of the tram dispute, it didn’t take much to spark trouble. Trams carrying supporters to the game were attacked, following a failed attempt by protestors to rush the gates into the ground.

The events in Ringsend were just violent episode in a weekend which would see hundreds injured in Dublin, and death on the streets. This image shows the arrest of Larkin on the day after the Ringsend riot.

One of the most interesting primary sources from the time of the 1913 Lockout is Disturbed Dublin by Arnold Wright, which was written in 1914 and in many ways provided an account of the dispute which was very sympathetic to the employers and police. In that text, Weight notes that:

The opening scene, in what was to prove a prolonged and sanguinary drama, was enacted in the Ringsend district. In his speech on Friday night Mr. Larkin had referred to a football match which was to be played on Saturday on the Shelbourne Ground at Ringsend between two local clubs. ‘ There are ” scabs ” in one of the teams, and you will not be there except as pickets,’ he said, in language whose menacing character was understood by those who heard him. In obedience to the implied command, a large body of members of the Transport Workers’ Union gathered at the time announced for the match near the entrance to the grounds.

Wright’s claim that there were scabs in “one of the teams” is at odds with the claims made in Larkin’s own newspaper.

The Irish Times report on the incident claimed that some picketers had actually gained access to the ground, and “hurled vile language at the players.” It also claimed that the incident involving a crowd attacking trams was only brought to an end when “one of the passengers jumped from the tram, produced a revolver, and effectively dispersed the crowd.” It is noted in Lockout: Dublin 1913 that following this incident:

A section of the crowd, which now numbered between five and six hundred, decided to march on the nearby DUTC power station. At 4.30pm College Street DMP station received a call from an anxious sergeant at the plant appealing for help. Inspector Bannon commandeered a passing tram, put his ten men on board, and headed for Ringsend. By the time he arrived the crowd had quietened and he began shepherding them back towards the centre of Ringsend.

Further trouble escalated quickly however at Bridge Street, where one rioter even succeeded in liberating an inspector of the sword from his scabbard. This led to a police horse falling, bringing its rider down with it. It was not until the pubs in the area were forcibly closed by police before the crowds began to disperse from the area, with the inaugural opening match of Shelbourne’s new ground well and truly overshadowed. In total, sixteen arrests were made at Ringsend that day, with over fifty people treated in hospital for their injuries. The punishments were severe, with Thomas Deevey initially sentenced to “three months’ imprisonment with hard labour for striking a policeman on the leg with a bottle at Bridge Street, Ringsend.”

The newspapers blamed the influence of outside “hooligans” for the actions of the “usually peaceful and industrious inhabitants of Ringsend” on the day, but events on the following day would greatly overshadow what had happened at Ringsend. An outlawed labour meeting on Sackville Street would provide the location for ‘Bloody Sunday’, leaving hundreds injured and one man dead.

An iconic image of the police charges of Bloody Sunday.

Stalin Ate My Homework – Alexi Sayle (2010)

I’ve just finished ‘Stalin Ate My Homework’ by Liverpudlian alternative stand-up Alexei Sayle. It’s a very funny and well-written memoir of his childhood and teenage years. The only son of two Atheist members of the Communist Party, it offers a fascinating glimpse of 1950s-1960s Left politics in England. Alex’s father worked on the railways so the family were able to avail of free travel and visited the “workers paradises” of Bulgaria, Czech Republic and Hungary during the late 1960s.

From a social history perspective, it is interesting to hear of the radical groups and pubs of 1960s Liverpool:

Fortunately via the Marxist-Leninists I had finally got know the world of Liverpool’s radicals pubs. All the bohemians, the artists, the poets and the left-wingers drank in three or four boozers on the edge of the town centre … We drank in the Philharmonic Hotel, a monument of Victorian exuberance with dark wood-panelled walls, copper reliefs, Art Deco lights, a mosaic-covered floor and a bar with a huge golden eagle watching over the drinkers. Alternatively we met up in the Crack, which was the pub favoured by the arts students and consisted of lots of little rooms each with weird paintings on the walls.

During this period, Alexi was a member of the Communist Party of Britain (Marxist-Leninist) which upset his purist parents. Him and his mates pub of choice was Kavanagh’s while druggies favoured O’Connors:

O’Connors was the druggiest pub. A former chapel with doors at each end, it allowed dealers to run out one door when the police came through the other. And finally there was the one favoured by the Marxist-Leninists, named the Grapes but called Kavanagh’s by everyone. (We) drank in what was effectively a corridor, though there were two snugs, with old murals on the walls and unusual round tables supposedly taken from a sister ship of the Titanic and fire-places which blazed warmth in winter…

What caught my eye was this little anecdote of an Irish republican bank robber on the run:

All of these pubs, especially Kavanagh’s, were full of ‘characters’… There was one Irish guy who hung around with us. In Ireland this man had been a member of … Saor Eire and he was now on the run after being involved in several fund-raising bank raids. He was trying to keep his identity secret but everybody called him Irish John or alternatively ‘Irish John Who’s Been Involved In All Those Bank Raids In Ireland’. He tried to pay for his drinks with hundred pound Irish banknotes, then was quickly arrested and shipped back to Dublin. His real name was Simon.

Update:

Thanks to Joe K. and Frank M. for getting in touch sending me on a copy of this painting ‘The Temptation of John Charles McQuaid’ by the aforementioned Simon.

The Temptation of John Charles McQuaid (2001) by Simon

Over the last month, a further two stories from Come Here To Me! have been aired on RTE’s The History Show. These stories have tied-in with content on the programme, or have been aired to coincide with historic anniversaries.

The first story was aired on 24 February and dealt with the controversy surrounding Dublin Corporation’s original decision to place a statue of Prince Albert, and not Henry Grattan, at College Green in the 1860s. Grattan took his spot and is still there today. Prince Albert’s statue sits hidden in the grounds of Leinster House beside the Natural History Museum. The story, read by David Herlihy, can be played here.

Henry Grattan statue. nd.

On 24 March, the story of John McGrath (Ireland’s only prisoner of Dachau concentration camp) was read on the progamme. This week marked the 80th Anniversary of establishment of Dachau Concentration Camp. McGrath, a World War One veteran and manager of the Theatre Royal cinema on Hawkins Street, fought against the Nazis and was imprisoned in four different German camps. Never fully recovering from the physical and psychological trauma of his imprisonment, McGrath passed away in Dublin in November 1946.   The story, read by Dave Sherry, can be played here.

John McGrath. The Irish Times, 29 Nov 1946.

A 1929 advertisement for Roe’s whiskey.

While most Dubliners are unfamiliar with their name and trade today, the Roe family have contributed significantly to the city of Dublin. They not alone funded the restoration of the magnificent Christchurch Cathedral, but their now-defunct distillery on Thomas Street was home to the largest smock windmill in Europe.

Saint Patrick watches over us from Thomas Street, though many may never have noticed him, resting on top of Saint Patrick’s Tower. The Irish Times noted in 1929 that this was then “the largest Pot Still Distillers in the world”, and Saint Patrick rests on top of a windmill that formed a part of that premises.

Writing in 1965, John McCaffery noted that “from the street the figure (of Saint Patrick) looks comparatively insignificant, but it is actually 4 feet in height. The tower itself is 135 feet high and the width of the base is 70 feet.”

Saint Patrick looking over Dubliners.

The Roe family, who owned the distillery, are hugely important in the history of the city. Their contribution to Dublin was the major restoration of Christchurch in the late nineteenth century. It should be remembered that Guinness, located just across the street from the Roe’s at Saint James’ Gate, had funded the restoration works at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. In 1871 George Roe offered to fund the restoration of Christchurch and the construction of a new synod hall, with leading architect George Edmund Street employed for the task. The sheer scale of this project is evident from Archiseek, where it is noted:

The Cathedral as it exists today is mainly Victorian due to the extensive restorations and renovations carried out by the English architect George Edmund Street in the 1870s. This cost over £230,000 and like the renovations at nearby St Patrick’s Cathedral was funded by a drink manufacturer – Dublin Whiskey Distiller Henry Roe who like Benjamin Guinness generously donated the entire cost.

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The Dublin Maccabi Assoication has been uploading some fantastic photos onto their new Facebook page.

Founded as the Carlisle Cricket Club in 1908, they changed their name to the Carlisle Athletic Union before becoming the Dublin Maccabi Association in 1942.

In 1954 they opened a new state of the art sportsground at Kimmage Road West, Dublin 12. At the time it was said that the ground was “only equalled around Dublin by Croke Park, Lansdowne Road, Belfield and College Park.

The ground was in use until 1998. Declining membership of Dublin’s Jewish community was cited as the main reason for the decision to sell.

In March 1960, the first amateur performance in Ireland of “The Diary of Anne Frank” was held at the Club. In April 1963, over a thousand people packed the hall at the sports ground for a service to commemorate the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. The Chief Rabbi of Ireland, Dr. Isaac Cohen, spoke of their heroic sacrifice but warned:

the sacrifices of the thousands who died did not suffice. Today, 20 years afterwards, we must continue our vigilance against the constant menace and threat to the peace and tranquility of mankind

Here are some pictures from the association’s Facebook page:

Dublin Maccabi Soccer Team, 1977

Dublin Maccabi Soccer Team, 1960

Dublin Jewish Boxing Club, 1937/38.

In recent weeks we have posted a number of articles on the 1913 Lockout to the site, looking at things like the cartoons of the Sunday Independent, the visit of leading trade unionist Bill Haywood and the funeral of Big Jim many years on from the event. We intend to continue posting brief articles like these as a small contribution to the centenary year, but it’s also our hope to promote events which examine the Lockout and its place in Dublin history.

This upcoming play by Ann Matthews is something I will certainly be attending. Matthews has written two excellent studies on the history of women in the republican movement, and this is her first play. Both Renegades (a study of women in the republican movement up to the end of the Civil War) and Dissidents (which looked at women who were hostile to the new state) were important books in my view, putting women into their rightful place in the narrative of the Irish revolutionary period and Irish republicanism.

This play will be performed in the New Theatre, in Connolly Books. I have to confess, I only made my first visit to the theatre last week, thanks to the freak weather conditions which called off the Shelbourne and Saint Patrick’s Athletic clash, leaving us with a few hours to fill. As a friend perfectly put it, football is theatre of a different kind.

Recently, I stumbled across a news report from June 1963. The News and Carton Cinema on Grafton Street were showing Elizabeth Is Queen, and during one screening a number of youths “jumped up on stage, sprayed the screen and then part of the audience with fire extinguishers threw a bottle of ink at the screen, slashed it, and ran out of a side exit and escaped.”

This attack on the screening of a Royal film in Dublin was by no means the first attack of its kind in the history of the city. Indeed, in the 1920s and 30s such political attacks were rather common. Some films were not shown at all here, with a belief existing that they could lead to scenes of protest. As noted in Cinema and Ireland, when the American-produced Indian Raj film The Lives of a Bengal Lancer (1935) was first screened here:

Rupert Brooke’s provocative poem ‘England, My England’ was removed, while ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ was substituted for ‘God Save the Queen’. Indeed, it was also deemed wise not to screen the George V celebration film, Royal Cavalcade (1935)

The primary reason republicans choose to attack particular films and cinemas in the 1920s and 1930s was a belief that in showing films which glorified war, or the British Royals, there were pushing an imperialist agenda. This was all part of a wider campaign of course, occurring at the same time when the republican movement was waging street protests against Remembrance Sunday and other such events. As Brian Hanley has written:

Beginning in 1925, when the Masterpiece cinema in Dublin was blown up for showing ‘imperialist’ films, British Legion premises, scout halls and monuments to English monarchs were all targeted. IRA units were also instructed to make off with any Union flags that were prominently displayed in their areas.

News coverage of 1925 bombing of Masterpiece Cinema (Irish Times)

The 1925 bombing of the Masterpiece cinema grabbed national headlines, with The Irish Times of 21 November 1925 reporting that:

At seven o’clock yesterday morning three men exploded a powerful landmine in the wide entrance to the Masterpiece cinema in Talbot Street, Dublin. The explosion blew out a large portion of the front of the building, and wrecked the glass in nearly a score of houses in the street.

Soon after this incident, it was reported that two plain clothes police officers were fired upon in the area. This story played out for a long time afterwards in the courts and the national media, with the Corporation paying out considerable compensation to the damaged cinema and other businesses in the area. The Masterpiece cinema had previously been called upon by armed men, who had seized seven of its eight copies of the film The Battle of Ypres. Below we see some footage from the original 1925 version of the film.

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Old Dublin advertisements have always appealed to me, giving a taste of life in the city at any given time, and also showing how advertising has changed through the ages. These ads have all been taken from The Lepracaun: Cartoon Monthly, and were printed in 1908 editions of the publication. The Bohemian in Phibsboro is still open for business, but the rest have sadly passed into history themselves.

One of the first ads that grabbed my attention was for Tylers Football Boots, showing The Beautiful Game:

Tylers Football Boots

This advertisement is interesting, for the Lemass hat company on Capel Street. John Timothy Lemass was the father of Sean Lemass and Noel Lemass, who we have profiled on the blog before. While Sean would go on to become Taoiseach, his brother was a victim of the brutal Civil War, with his body dumped in the Dublin mountains following the end of hostilities.

Lemass of Capel Street

A rather odd advertisement advertising a cure for gout, lumbago and other such paniful and nasty conditions comes from ‘Ozonia’, who were based on Westland Row:

These advertisements initially caught my eye with Nelson’s Pillar, but then I noticed the name of the bar in the other advertisement. The Bohemian Bar in Phibsoro is still going strong, popular with locals and supporters of Bohemians.

‘The Bohemian Bar’

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