The British Government has been anxious to sign a trade deal with the United States since BREXIT; the fact that the British Government has not been able to do so has embarrassed them. 

Having been frustrated in getting an actual national trade deal, the British Government has embarked on a new marketing strategy: getting what it is marketing as “trade deals” with individual states.   Now, these “trade deals” are more “memorandums of understanding” (Article I, Section 10 of the Constitution prohibits states from making independent trade deals).  This is a cynical British marketing ploy.  By getting a collection of supposed “trade deals” with individual states, the British are attempting to sell BREXIT at home while building momentum and a case for a real trade deal.   They are aided by American politicians of both parties who see their own P.R. potential in announcing a “feel good” “trade deal” without realizing the consequences.

The U.K. recently concluded a “trade deal” with the State of Washington.  U.K. trade minister Nusrat Ghani said, “Florida is next on the list.  That should be concluded shortly.“

 A win in Florida would give the U.K. tremendous momentum,  but a loss would be seismic and deliver a clear message that injustice in Ireland has consequences.  We are reaching out to all Florida Hibernians to contact their Governor to express their belief that callous injustice in Ireland should not be rewarded.

Neither the U.S. nor its states should reward the rejection of fundamental human rights in Ireland with a “trade deal.”  We should not give something to Britain that we would withhold on human rights grounds if it were any other nation.  Turning a blind eye to injustice is not the friendship of a “special relationship”; it is being an accessory in a crime.   

With the passage today of the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill, the government of Prime Minister Sunak has decided to add their own sad chapter in the history of Britain’s callous disregard for the rights of the Irish people.  The bill trades equal access to the courts and justice that are the mark of all democratic societies for an unrealistic, forlorn hope that perpetrators of killings and torture will, after decades of literally getting away with murder, will now have a ‘Road to Damascus” moment. 

In rare unanimity, the bill is opposed by all major Northern Ireland Political parties and all segments of the Northern Ireland community.  The bill is as undemocratic as it is unjust; it reflects a return to Britain’s imperial attitudes of the 19^th century, not the values of the world of the 21^st. 

In unilaterally adopting this bill, the United Kingdom has violated the Good Friday, Stormont House, and Fresh Start Agreements, which now join the dubious company of the Treaty of Limerick and the Third Home Rule Bill.   It is yet another sad justification of Britain’s sobriquet “Perfidious Albion.”  With this track record of broken commitments and promises, how can one have faith in the dubious truth recovery provisions of the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill?

As the largest Irish American Organization in the United States, we are reminded of the words of Dr. Martin Luther King: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”  We cannot condemn atrocities in Ukraine by Russian Paratroopers while British Paratroopers are given an amnesty.  We can not fall victim to what former Irish Ambassador to the U.S. Séan Ó hUigín termed as Britain’s “Irish Anomaly”: something that would be taken very seriously in another context can be disregarded if it comes with an Irish label.  The victims of the Ballymurphy Massacre are as entitled to justice as the victims of Bucha. It is often stated that the United States and the United Kingdom have a “Special Relationship”; per the U.S. Embassy to the U.K. website, “a bilateral cooperation reflects the common language, ideals, and democratic practices of the two nations.”  In passing the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill, the United Kingdom has violated those “ideals and democratic principles.”  We shall ask our elected representatives to reexamine the “Special Relationship” in light of Britain breaking with the standards of justice that Americans and all modern societies hold dear.

In an unprecedented move, the President of America’s largest Irish American Organization, the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH), has written a letter to each member of the British House of Commons expressing strong opposition to the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill currently before parliament. This marks the first time that the AOH, an influential Irish-American organization, has reached out directly to Members of Parliament, highlighting the significance of the issue. The text of the letter is as follows:

In every official meeting between the United States and the United Kingdom, there is invariably a mention of the “Special Relationship” between our two countries. The bedrock of that relationship is our shared history and values. I write to you as the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill currently before parliament is a grave threat to that relationship.

The concept that no one is above the law, that all people are accountable for their actions and are entitled to justice, is one of the landmarks of Magna Carta and one of the great legacies that the British people have given the world.  The Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill repudiates that noble legacy by creating a protected class and denying victims of criminal action justice solely based on the time and place where the crime occurred. It violates Article Two of the European Convention of Human Rights and the accepted standards of justice of all democratic nations.

The Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill has achieved the rare distinction of uniting the Northern Ireland community (who, ironically, proponents of this bill claim will be the “beneficiaries”) in unprecedented unanimity in opposition. The bill has been condemned by the United Nations, the Council of Europe, and in several letters and statements by members of the U.S. House and Senate. In a recent poll, 90% of U.K. citizens opposed the bill. This begs the question “Cui Bono?”

The main argument made by proponents of this bill is that “too much time has passed for effective prosecutions.’ We frankly find this argument fallacious.   The passage of time has not been solely due to a natural course of events but largely a result of the prolonged delays in implementing commitments under the Good Friday, Stormont House, and Fresh Start Agreement Agreements. If the United Kingdom had acted on its obligations under those agreements, we believe significant progress could have been made in resolving the backlog of legacy now being used as a pretext for this bill. 

Secondly, we note that just two weeks ago, Attorney General Dame Brenda King ordered a new inquest into the murders of five Catholic men in four separate attacks, citing “deficiencies” in the original investigations and “new information not considered at the first inquests.” If new information is still being developed in this and other cases, how can it be stated “too much time has passed for prosecutions?” I also draw your attention to 25 June this year when a British jury found John Apelgren guilty of killing 22-year-old sex worker Eileen Cotter on 1 June 1974. It defies logic that we are asked to accept that a murder in London in 1974 can be successfully prosecuted while the murder of a priest, shot in the back while administering the last rights to another victim in 1971, cannot.

Where the “too much time has passed argument” does have merit is showing that the proposed “truth recovery” process that the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill would substitute for justice is a fantasy. Are we expected to believe that perpetrators who have successfully avoided prosecution for decades will now have pangs of conscience and line up to confess their misdeeds, refuting tales they have told their children and grandchildren about their role in the Northern Ireland Conflict?

The proposed bill threatens to undermine the delicate balance achieved through the Good Friday Agreement.  Such a course of action has the potential to strain relationships, both within Northern Ireland and internationally, and jeopardize the progress that has been made towards a lasting peace. It threatens the “Special Relationship,” for at the heart of any relationship is trust; if a nation can not keep faith with its commitments under international treaty and with its moral obligation to justice, how can the U.S. realistically have the trust to engage in future agreements with the U.K.?

We ask you  to reject the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill and to protect Britain’s reputation as the ‘cradle of common law’; we ask the United Kingdom be faithful to the ideals of William Blackstone and William Garrow and not emulate the model of Augusto Pinochet.

The letter is signed Daniel J. O’Connell, President of the Ancient Order of Hibernians.

Northern Ireland Secretary Chris Heaton-Harris stated today that the U.K. Government plans to continue to pursue the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill, restoring to the bill provisions that would provide an amnesty for murder and torture, halt current and future investigations, and deny victims access to the courts. This action contravenes Britain’s pledged commitments under the Good Friday Agreement and the norms of justice of civilized societies, including the basic principles of the Magna Carta, which holds that no one is above the law.

The Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill has achieved the rare distinction of unifying the major political parties in opposition, parties that currently can not agree to form a government. The Council of Europe’s Committee of Ministers, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe, the U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights, U.N. Special Rapporteurs, national human rights institutions, parliamentary committees, members of the U.S. House and Senate, and civil society organizations, including victims’ groups, have all denounced this bill. A recent poll reported that nine in 10 U.K. adults said perpetrators should still be prosecuted for serious crimes even if they were committed decades ago.

Only one group favors this legislation: those who wish to hide their misdeeds in the shadows of injustice, and that includes the British Government.

It is no coincidence that this legislation was announced in the Queen’s Speech on the very day a British Coroner’s court found that the ten civilians killed by members of the British Parachute Regiment were “completely innocent.” Nine days later, then Prime Minister Boris Johnson apologized “unreservedly on behalf of the U.K. government for the events that took place in Ballymurphy and the huge anguish that the lengthy pursuit of truth has caused the families of those killed .” Prime Minister Johnson concluded that “No apology can lessen [the victims’] lasting pain.’

Yet that is, at most, what the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Bill would offer the victims of Ballymurphy and the families of hundreds of victims of violence perpetrated by Crown forces: an apology.

Even the possibility of families getting that modicum of relief is questionable as the bill is based on the wildly optimistic belief that those who have reached old age, having lived lives of stolen valor with medals on their chests and various honors after their names, will now have pangs of conscience and confess. Even Professor Pangloss and Pollyanna would be skeptical of the success of such a process.

The U.K. often seeks to leverage what it perceives to be a “Special Relationship” between the United Kingdom and the United States, a relationship built on “common language, ideals, and democratic practices.” Granting an amnesty for murder and denying victims access to the judicial system are not American ideals.

The Ancient Order of Hibernians calls upon all elected U.S. leaders to denounce the U.K.’s legacy bill; to remain silent is not the act of a friend but the actions of an accessory after the fact. If the Sunak government persists in this bill, the United States must reevaluate and reconsider “the special relationship.”

Brother Hibernians and Brother Paratroopers. LTC (Ret) Cole Slattery, past President of the Col. Thomas J. Cunningham Jr. Div., Loudoun County, VA (Left) and MAJ (Ret) Keith Kettell, current President of the Herbert /Cady Div. Alexandria. VA (Right), stand proudly before the St. Patrick’s Day parade in Old Town Alexandria in early March and meet up again in late March in Palatka, FL to close out Irish American Heritage month by jumping from the 80-year-old C-47, Tico Bell. The storied aircraft dropped Paratroopers into Normandy on D-Day June 6^th, 1944, and again during Operation Market Garden into Holland September 17, 1944. After the war, the Tico Bell flew missions of relief in support of the Berlin Airlift.  Presidents Slattery and Kettell served several tours of duty in the 82^nd Airborne Division in addition to other Airborne units throughout their military careers. 

As President Biden arrives in Ireland to mark the 25th anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement, we recognize the tremendous progress that has been made in Northern Ireland since its signing. The agreement has brought about an unprecedented era of peace and stability, and its positive impact on the people of Northern Ireland cannot be overstated.

However, we cannot let the significant achievements made over the past 25 years distract us from the significant challenges and threats the Good Friday Agreement and a lasting peace still faces. The ongoing political deadlock in Northern Ireland as the Democratic Unionist Party, the only party not to sign the Good Friday Agreement, fails to participate in government over its disagreement with how Westminster has implemented the Brexit the DUP campaigned for. Moves by the British government to enact an extraordinary amnesty for murders committed by its agents during the conflict in Northern Ireland seek to deny the justice that the Good Friday Agreement promises. There are continuing threats of violence from dissident groups. All this serves as reminders of the work that still needs to be done to fully implement the agreement.

Given these challenges, it is more important than ever for the United States to remain engaged in Northern Ireland. The U.S. played a vital role in brokering the Good Friday Agreement. Its continued support will be crucial in ensuring that the agreement remains a cornerstone of peace and stability in the region.

As we reflect on the 25th anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement, we must renew our commitment to the principles of peace, reconciliation, and respect for human rights that underpin the agreement. By doing so, we can build a brighter future for the people of Northern Ireland and ensure that the progress made over the past 25 years is not lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike McCormack, National Historian

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

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth

Baseball is a sport built for superlatives and appellations; with every passing season, another member of the sport seems to be bestowed the title of “the Greatest” or a nickname.  Yet, there is only one “Grand Old Man of Baseball,” and there will never be another like Irish American Connie Mack nor anyone as deserving of the title.

Connie Mack was born Cornelius McGillicuddy in Brookfield, Massachusetts, on December 22, 1862.  His parents were both Irish immigrants, Michael McGillicuddy from Killarney, while Mary  (nee McKillop) McGillicuddy was from the Catholic section of Belfast.  Connie would never legally change his name of McGillicuddy and used it on all formal documents but would use ‘Mack’ as his last name in all other situations. 

Mack’s father was a Civil War Veteran whose health had been destroyed by his service.  The family eked out a survival based on a meager disability pension supplemented when the father could work and could find it.  Mack left school at age 14 to help support his family.  It was remembered that he would always give his mother whatever he earned.  Later in life, Mack would always be self-conscious about his lack of formal education.

One advantage of working in the local factories and mills was a lunch hour where Mack would play baseball, which he would follow up with additional playing in the evening when work and chores were done.  Standing 6′ 2″, Connie Mack was already the tallest boy in town and quickly earned the name of “Slats” for his height and slim build.  In 1879 he was playing for Brookfield’s town team.  Only 17, Mack was much younger than his teammates but was the team’s catcher and de facto captain.

In 1886, Mack began a major league career (though the term’ major leagues’ was not coined yet) as a catcher.  Sports writer Bill James described Mack’s playing career as “a light-hitting catcher with a reputation as a smart player but didn’t do anything particularly well.” That is both uncharitable and inaccurate.  Mack was an expert at “the dark arts” of being a catcher.  Instead of positioning himself in front of the backstop like other catchers, Mack was among the pioneers who positioned himself directly behind the home plate.  According to a contemporary opponent Wilbert Robinson, “Mack never was mean … [but] if you had any soft spot, Connie would find it.  He could do and say things that got more under your skin than the cuss words used by other catchers.” In addition to distracting hitters, Mack also honed skills such as blocking the plate and simulating the sound of a foul tip when the then rules stated that any pitch tipped and caught by the catcher was an out.   Mack was also an expert at “tipping bats” (catcher’s interference) to throw off a hitter’s swing.

Mack’s final three seasons were with the Pittsburgh Pirates from 1894 to 1896, where he served as a player/manager and compiled a 149–134 (.527) record.  In 1896, he retired as a full-time player to begin the career he became famous for as a manager.  After a four-year stint as a manager for the then minor league Milwaukee Brewers, Mack became manager, treasurer, and part-owner of the new American League’s Philadelphia Athletics.  Mack guided the A’s to triumph, leading them to capture nine pennants and reach eight World Series, ultimately securing five victories..

Mack revolutionized the position of baseball manager.  He was praised for his intelligent and innovative management, which earned him the nickname “the Tall Tactician.”  He was among the first managers to strategically reposition his fielders during the game, frequently guiding  outfielders by waving his rolled-up scorecard from the dugout..  He valued intelligence and “baseball smarts,” trading away Shoeless Joe Jackson despite his proven worth as a hitter because of his poor attitude and unintelligent play.  Mack’s strength was finding the best players, teaching them well, and letting them play.  In an age when baseball was known for its flamboyant rowdy individuals, Mack developed the need for what we would now call ‘team culture.’  The Times wrote of Mack, “He was a new type of manager,” The Times observed. “The old-time leaders ruled by force, often thrashing players who disobeyed orders on the field or broke club rules off the field. One of the kindest and most soft-spoken of men, he always insisted that he could get better results by kindness. He never humiliated a player by public criticism. No one ever heard him scold a man in the most trying times of his many pennant fights.”

However, what set Connie Mack apart was that he was known as a consummate gentleman, a trait he attributed to his Irish mother.  Going against the baseball manager stereotype, he rarely drank and didn’t smoke or curse.  Time magazine once said, “Mr. Mack, as his players called him, remained a gentleman.  Rumor had it that the harshest expletive was a mild ‘goodness gracious.‘” Ironically, Connie Mack did have a temper, which is why he adopted the practice of wearing his signature business suits rather than the team uniform, as was the habit of other managers.   This meant that he did not need to go to the locker room with his players after a game to change, and by the time the team cooled emerged, he would have cooled down.

Mack also had a wry sense of humor.  When fellow manager John McGraw described the A’s as a “white elephant that would never make money,” Mack had a picture of an elephant added to the uniform, turning the insult into a badge of pride. The use of the white elephant logo is still used by today’s Oakland A’s continues. 

However, when McGraw was proved at least partially correct, the team struggled financially, resulting in Mack having to sell off players to keep the team viable, earning him an unjust reputation as ‘miserly.’  On the contrary,  Mack supported a large extended family and demonstrated kindness to players who were down on their luck, including paying for one former player’s funeral.  More than once, a fellow Irish American would claim to be a relative; Mack knew they weren’t while at the same time leaving some free tickets for them at the box office.     

Connie Mack  would manage the Athletics for fifty years, compiling a record of 3,582–3,814 (.484) when he retired at 87.When Mack retired as a manager at 87, old age and the changing nature of the game had caught up with him, and it can be argued that he diluted his Baseball accomplishments by hanging on too long.  Still, nothing can diminish his influence on the game of baseball or the qualities as a gentleman instilled in him growing up in an Irish American household.

“Humanity is the keystone that holds nations and men together,” Mack once said. “When that collapses, the whole structure crumbles. This is as true of baseball teams as any other pursuit in life.“

Connie Mack

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike McCormack, National Historian

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

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth

At the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of the 11^th month of 1918, for the first time in over four years, the guns fell silent across the trenches that scarred the face of Europe during the First World War. America had been latecomers to the conflict but at a tremendous cost had tipped the scales in what had been a murderous stalemate. No division had sacrificed more than the 42nd Division, nicknamed the “Rainbow Division,” as it had been formed from National Guard Units whose origins stretched across the country. No unit in the Rainbow Division fought on more fronts, nor suffered more casualties, than the regiment that represented the green in that rainbow: the 165^th, the federal number assigned to the 69^th New York. It was the same New York 69^th that fifty years earlier, as a unit of the Irish Brigade, had been given the nickname of “the fighting 69th” as a tribute of respect by an enemy commander, Robert E. Lee. While the regimental number had changed, the unit and the New York Irish would once again prove worthy of that title, and no one was more responsible for the regiments unequaled record in WW I than Col. William “Wild Bill” Donovan.

Even before the war, William Joseph Donovan was a hero of Horatio Alger proportions. The grandson of immigrants from Skibbereen, Co Cork, he had literally been born on the wrong side of the tracks in Buffalo, New York. Yet, as typical of Irish immigrants, each generation was climbing the American dream’s long ladder. While Donovan’s grandfather had worked shoveling grain in the holds of ships, his father had risen to the influential position of yardmaster for the local railroad. Young William Donovan continued the trend, attending Columbia University, where he would earn a law degree. Donovan was a star quarterback of the Columbia football team in an age where amateur athletes were treated like today’s professional superstars.  It was here he earned the nickname “Wild Bill Donovan.” He returned to Buffalo, started a law practice, and married the daughter of the wealthiest man in Buffalo.

Yet, Donovan was not a man to rest on his success; his strong sense of duty and patriotism called him to seek an opportunity to serve his country. With several friends, Donovan formed a National Guard company of cavalry that served when the Army was mobilized to hunt for Pancho Villa. When the United States entered World War I, Donovan was called back to service and assigned as a Major to the 165^th regiment, the number given to the rechristened N.Y. 69^th which had won glory in the American Civil War as part of the “Irish Brigade”. He was a popular choice with the mostly Irish American regiment, particularly their Chaplin, Fr. Francis Duffy , who himself would win fame and honor with the regiment. Donovan applied the same tough discipline to his men’s training as he had experienced himself as an athlete on the playing field of Columbia, training his men would come to appreciate on the battlefields of France.

In France, at the river Ourcq, nicknamed by the Irish of the 165^th “the O’Rourke,” the 42^nd Division was ordered to cross the river and secure a ridge and farm on the other side. The position was believed to be “lightly held” when in fact they were being faced by three German Divisions, including one of elite Prussian Guards. Only Donovan’s 165^th managed to reach its objective, the units on the left and right having been pushed back. The result was the 165^th was cut off and subjected to machine gun and artillery fire on three sides. It was estimated that the Germans had one machine gun for four of Donovan’s men. Donovan and his men held their position for three days until the rest of the Division could reinforce the 165th but at a terrible cost: of the 3,000 men who entered the battle, 1,750 men and 66 officers were lost. Donovan himself was exposed to poison gas and wounded, yet still continued to lead his men. In one case, Donovan, without regard to danger, crossed open ground under heavy enemy fire to communicate coordinates for support artillery. For this action, Donovan was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross and promoted Lt. Colonel.

Tragically, these circumstances repeated themselves only a few months later when the 165^th was again asked to breach a line of German fortifications. Again, the 165th was going up against some of Germany’s best troops, not with the battle-hardened men they had lost at the Ourcq, but young and inexperienced replacements. Describing it as “foolish but necessary” to his wife in a letter written before the battle, Donovan put on his full regulation uniform and insignia. He knew that he would be a target for German snipers by so obviously identifying himself as a senior officer, but he also knew that his raw men needed to see him out in front. During the German attack, Donovan was severely wounded but continued to encourage his men and refused all attempts to evacuate him till the battle was over. For his actions, Donovan was awarded the Medal of Honor and became the most decorated soldier of WW I.

“They’re not going to see your faces, but they will never forget what you looked like.”

William Donovan

On arriving back in New York, Donovan and his men were honored with a parade down 5^th Avenue and, appropriate for the men of the 69^th/165^th, past St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  Donovan ordered his men to march wearing their steel helmets, ammunition boots with their weapons, rather than dress uniforms, saying, “They’re not going to see your faces, but they will never forget what you looked like.”  Donovan himself elected to march with his men rather than ride the traditional horse.  The regiment marched to the strains of the regimental march “Garryowen” to City Hall, where they were presented with “the freedom of the City.” Later that night in camp, Donovan heard some of his men singing “The Good Old Summer Time,” a tune which many of his men now buried in France, sang as they went up to the line for their first battle.  Donovan wept.

Despite having already accomplished enough to fill multiple lifetimes, history was still not done with “Wild Bill” Donovan. He would become a successful lawyer, federal prosecutor, and a confidant to Presidents for his clear and pragmatic thinking.  In the inter-war years, Donovan was often used as a presidential agent, especially when it came to foreign intelligence matters. In World War II, Donovan created the Office of Strategic Services, the O.S.S., the precursor to today’s C.I.A., and attained the rank of  Major General. After the war, he would assist in prosecuting Nazi war criminals at Nuremberg.

Little wonder that when informed that William Donovan had died peacefully after a life of honor and service to his country, then-President Eisenhower remarked, “What a man! We have lost the last hero.”

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

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Neil F. Cosgrove  ©

Philip Fitzpatrick was born in Aughavas, Co. Leitrim in 1892.  Like so many of his generation, he emigrated to the United States and settled in New York City. He joined the NYPD in 1926 and was assigned to Mounted Squad 1 in Manhattan.  He would serve with distinction for over 21 years as one of ‘New York’s Finest’ and would prove more than worthy of the title.

However, in addition to protecting the streets of New York, Patrolman Fitzpatrick had another talent that few realized until many years after his death; he was a talented poet.  Fitzpatrick came from a family having a long musical tradition going back through the generations.  His best-known poem was a tribute to the County of his birth, “Lovely Leitrim,”; the story of an immigrant dreaming of returning to his homeland and seeing once again the sights he once knew and now cherishes in his heart.   In another moving poem he wrote about his experience as a father saying goodbye to his son Charles as he leaves to join the Marines in WW II.

Fitzpatrick also wrote a poem to honor his fellow police officers, whom he described as “Soldiers of Peace.”  In the poem, he describes the fear well known to all police families that when he “kisses his wife and children goodbye, there’s a chance he will see them no more.”   Sadly, for Officer Phillip Fitzpatrick, the line was prophetic.

On Tuesday, May 20, 1947, Patrolman Fitzpatrick was off duty and having lunch with his friend Patrolman George H. Dammeyer at a tavern located at 1703 Third Avenue and East 96th Street on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. While they were dining, two career criminals armed with pistols entered the tavern after having just robbed another location nearby, where they pistol-whipped their victims. The criminals proceeded to demand money and valuables from everyone in the tavern, pointing their pistols at both the customers and staff.

Despite the great risk to their own safety, Patrolman Fitzpatrick and Patrolman Dammeyer bravely attempted to apprehend the criminals. During the altercation, Fitzpatrick was shot twice in the stomach and suffered grievous wounds while struggling with one of the perpetrators. However, Patrolman Dammeyer managed to shoot and kill both of the criminals.

Phillip Fitzpatrick succumbed to his wounds and passed away on May 26, 1947, leaving behind his wife Mary and five sons. In recognition of his bravery and sacrifice, Patrolman Fitzpatrick was given an Inspector’s funeral and was posthumously awarded the NYPD Medal of Honor.  His son Charles, whose leaving for the Marines he had memorialized, was now himself a police officer and was given his father’s Shield, No. 15348.  Phillip Fitzpatrick had never made it back to his home County of Leitrim except in his dreams and poetry.  He was remembered as a proud Irishman and a devout Catholic who was a member of the Holy Name Society and a committed member of the Ancient Order of Hibernians.

It would not be until twenty years after his death that Phillip Fitzpatrick’s poem “Lovely Leitrim” gained notoriety by singer Larry Cunningham.  Despite admiring the song, Cunningham released it as a ‘B-Side’ because he knew that RTÉ (Ireland’s dominant radio station) would never play it.  While Cunningham was correct, the hand of radio producers was forced when the song was frequently requested.  “Lovely Leitrim” would go on to be a number-one record, displacing the Beatles’ “Day Tripper,” selling over a million copies.  The song has become an unofficial anthem for County Leitrim.

Sadly, many do not know that behind the ballad “Lovely Leitrim” stands a heroic son of Leitrim who is memorialized on the walls of NYPD headquarters at One Police Plaza. 

To his County and the People of New York, he was ‘faithful unto death”, the motto of the NYPD.

After graduation, he served the diocese of Philadelphia as a seminarian until 5 October 1826 when he was ordained a priest by Bishop Henry Conwell. During his early years as a priest, Hughes founded St. John’s Orphan Asylum in 1829 and in 1832 was responsible for building the new church of St. John the Evangelist – one of the most impressive churches in the country at that time. His initiative was recognized and on 7 August 1837, Pope Gregory XVI made 40-year old Hughes coadjutor Bishop for the Diocese of New York, which then included all of New York State and northern New Jersey. He was consecrated in old St. Patrick’s Cathedral on 7 January 1838. Between 1820 and 1830, immigration had swelled the U.S. Catholic population to 600,000 with no end in sight. The new immigrants were mostly Irish: impoverished, uneducated and unskilled, with little to prepare them for New York’s urban environs. Hughes believed that the barrage of Nativist anti-Catholic prejudice at the time was demoralizing the already disadvantaged immigrants and holding back their progress.

Recalling his own difficulties with a lack of education, he believed that the future of the Irish in America depended on secular education. At the time, the city’s schools were run by the Public School Society which received state funding. However, that society was a private Protestant group that taught that ‘emigration from Ireland of annually increasing numbers, extremely needy, and in many cases drunken and depraved, has become a subject for all our grave and fearful reflection.’  To get his flock educated, Hughes wanted an end to biased sectarian education. He contacted representative of New York’s Jewish community and allied with them to end all religious teaching in schools and through their efforts, the Maclay Bill of 1842 was enacted to bar all religious instruction from schools receiving state funds. On the night the bill was passed, a nativist mob attacked Hughes’s residence and members of the AOH were called to protect the city’s Catholic churches as they had done in 1841 and would do again in 1844.

Having reformed the public schools to help those non-protestant children who attended them, Hughes threw his energies into building a Catholic school system. ‘We have to build the schools first and the church after’ he said. In 1838 he felt that 100 acres bordering the Bronx River was the perfect spot for a new seminary and college and three years later, St. John’s College, the first Catholic institution of higher learning in the northeast, was established. On 10 April 1846, the State of New York granted the College a university charter and in 1907, after adding a law school and medical school, the name was changed to Fordham University.

In 1844, James Harper, was elected Mayor of New York supported by the anti-immigrant American Republican Party consisting mainly of Nativists. A highly organized group of anti-Catholic Protestant fundamentalists, they saw the Catholic Church as incompatible with democracy and believed the United States should be a land for Anglo-Saxon Protestants only. At the time,  nativist riots in Philadelphia claimed the lives of 30 Irishmen and burned Catholic churches and convents. Bishop Hughes defending the rights of Irish Catholics against such bigotry and bloodshed, sent a letter to Mayor Harper warning that if any harm came to a single Catholic church, he would turn New York into another Moscow, referring to the burning of Moscow during Napoleon’s invasion in 1812. He then called on the AOH to defend the Cathedral. As a massive Nativist torchlight parade gathered in City Hall Park, ready to march up the Bowery to the Cathedral, he stationed the Hibernians on the protective walls around the Cathedral. The Nativists backed down and Hughes’ powerful message and forceful actions are credited with averting the same anti-Catholic violence  in New York that had plagued Philadelphia. Hughes won the nickname of “Dagger John,” not only for the cross he penned beside his signature but also for being a man not to be trifled with!

In 1850, New York was elevated to the status of an Archdiocese by Pope Pius IX, so, too, was Hughes’ own status elevated to that of Archbishop. He continued a vigorous mission of building churches, schools, and hospitals. Future American President James Buchanan called him, ‘one of the ablest and most accomplished and energetic men I had ever known.  In a far-seeing move that many ridiculed at the time as Hughes’ Folly, the Archbishop proposed the construction of a new Cathedral in an undeveloped area far uptown on Fifth Avenue between 50th and 51st streets. The property was purchased in 1810 for the sum of $11,000. Archbishop Hughes laid the cornerstone for the new Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on 15 August 1858.

During the Civil War, Archbishop Hughes served as an envoy for President Lincoln on a successful overseas mission to dissuade European countries from supporting the Confederacy and in securing several officers of former Papal Army for the Union Army. In gratitude, Lincoln petitioned Pope Pius IX to name Archbishop Hughes as America’s first Cardinal. But the death took this indomitable leader in January 1864 before that honor could come to pass. His memory was honored by tributes from President Lincoln and other statesmen and his body viewed by over 200,000 people who solemnly came to worship in the old Cathedral where he was entombed in the crypts below. His body remained there until the new Cathedral was completed uptown and his remains were then removed to a crypt there in 1883. The new Cathedral holds the remains of all of the archbishops and cardinals that have served the Archdiocese since the death of Archbishop Hughes.

A statue of Archbishop Hughes stands on Fordham campus and a bust on a pedestal was erected by AOH Div 9 NY and the Friendly Sons of St Patrick at the old Cathedral with 3 bronze plaques on the fence.

Mike McCormack, National Historian 

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

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It is an iconic image of WW II, a photo taken on June 6, 1944 showing American soldiers exiting a landing craft coming ashore at Omaha beach. A few months later on October 20th, another photo captured the moment General Douglas MacArthur “returned” to the Philippines, wading ashore from a landing craft. Neither of these historic moments would have been possible without one man, as overlooked but essential as the landing craft in these images that bore his name, Andrew Higgins.

Though in later life Higgins would be inseparably identified with New Orleans, he was born in Columbus, Nebraska in 1886. Losing his father when he was but seven years old, Higgins would claim he received his determination and strong will from his mother whose ancestors had come from Ireland after the failed rebellion of 1848. Higgins demonstrated the industry and innovation that were to be his hallmarks at an early age. At the age of nine and with only a sickle he began a grass cutting business. He soon purchased a lawn mower, eventually expanding until he had seventeen mowers and was hiring older boys to do the work while he managed the business. An incurable builder, the young Higgins constructed an iceboat in the basement of his home for use on the nearby lakes. When finished, he realized it was too big to be taken out of the basement doors. With characteristic determination, he borrowed jacks from a nearby construction site and with friends removed a section of the basement’s wall, got the boat out and restored the wall, all while his mother was out shopping. Perhaps not unexpectedly, such creativity, determination and strong will often brought young Higgins into conflict with school authorities resulting in him being expelled before graduating.

Higgins moved to the south where he began working in the lumber industry. His interest in boats was again rekindled when he was confronted with the problem of how to access timber from shallow, obstacle choked bayous. Higgins took a correspondence course in naval architecture and soon designed the first of the flat-bottomed shallow draft boats which would make him famous. The key feature was that the propeller was incorporated in a recessed tunnel that protected the propeller from grounding and fouling.

In the late 1930’s Higgins owned a small shipyard in New Orleans servicing the need of loggers and oil drillers in the Mississippi Delta. The

growing threat of war soon drew the interest of the Marines in Higgins’ boats as the Navy Bureau of Ships had consistently failed to produce craft that could effectively deliver Marines, their tanks and artillery on a beach. Marine General Holland “Howlin’ Mad” Smith on seeing trials of Higgins shallow draft “Eureka” boat thought it could be “an answer to the Marine prayer”. The one concern was that as configured the Marines would need to disembark the boat going over the side, slowing their exit when they were most vulnerable. At his own expense, Higgin’s modified the boats by cutting off the bow and replacing it with a ramp. Higgins received a call from the Navy that they and the Marines would be coming to New Orleans to test the ramped boats and Higgins should also prepare to discuss a design for a craft capable of landing tanks. Higgins informed the Navy that instead of a plan he would have a workable craft. “It can’t be done,” the Navy told him; “The Hell it can’t,” replied Higgins, “you just be here in three days”. Higgins had the boat built in 61 hours.  Both would be taken into service, and while the ramped “Eureka” would have the official designation of LCVP (Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel) it would be known universally as the Higgins Boat.

Higgins’ answer to the “Marine prayer” came just in time, as the United States would soon enter WW II. With his tireless energy, often working 16 hour days, Higgins seemingly overnight turned his small 50 man New Orleans boat building business into one of the largest boat builders in the world, building not only several models of landing craft but other boats as well. By September 1943, 12,964 of the American Navy’s 14,072 vessels had been designed by Higgins Industries.  Hitler bitterly called Higgins “The new Noah”.

A fact that should not be overlooked is that to achieve this prodigious output Higgins employed anyone capable of performing the job, irrespective of gender or race, and everyone who performed the same job was given the same pay. Higgins was one of our nation’s first equal opportunity employers. Realizing the impact a worker lost due to sickness could have on productivity, Higgins established a company clinic where works could access health care free of charge.

Unfortunately, wartime gratitude is a fleeting thing. When the war ended, the drive and determination which had enabled Higgins to deliver what his country needed came back to haunt him as the toes he stepped on to get the job done now took their revenge. Maverick innovators like Higgins were out of place in the conformist world of post-war corporate America. Despite an indisputable record of being an advocate for his workers, his firms were crippled by post-war strikes. Higgins died in New Orleans on 1 August 1952.

Andrew Jackson Higgins was like the boat that bore his name: straightforward, tough and reliable. Neither was sophisticated, they just got the job done. He deserves to be remembered much more than he is. As General Eisenhower noted, “Andrew Higgins … is the man who won the war for us. … If Higgins had not designed and built those LCVPs, we never could have landed over an open beach. The whole strategy of the war would have been different.”

Neil F. Cosgrove  ©

In his obituary, the New York Times describes Martin Sheridan as “one of the greatest athletes the United States has ever known.”  While his name may not be as readily recognized today, that assessment still holds true.  Sheridan was born in Bohola, County Mayo, Ireland in 1881, and would later emigrate to the United States.    A giant for his time standing at 6′ 3″, he was a member of a group known as the “Irish Whales,” a group of Irish American Athletes who were also members of the New York City Police Department who dominated the track and field competitions of the early twentieth century. 

He won his first gold medal at the St. Louis Olympics in 1904 in the discus, an event he was to dominate during his career. In the 1906 Olympics he would again easily win the discuss gold, but also a gold medal in shot putt, and silver in the standing long jump, the standing high jump and stone-throwing. He was the odds on favorite to win the pentathlon before having to withdraw due to a leg injury.

Sheridan is perhaps best remembered for an incident in the 1908 London Games.  The games were mired in controversy from the start. It was the first games to have an “Opening Ceremony” and the now traditional parade of nations marching into the stadiums. Before the opening ceremony, it was noticed by the American team that while the stadium was surrounded with the flags of various nations (including the flags of China and Japan who were not competing), the British hosts had omitted the flag of the United States, claiming “they couldn’t find one.”   Some Irish Athletes had already withdrawn when told they would be required to march behind the British flag. 

The British organizers had issued a “protocol document” that instructed each team to dip their Country’s flag in homage as they passed  King Edward VII in the royal box.  When the U.S. contingent marched past, Color Bearer Ralph Rose refused to dip the American flag (allegedly after another Irish American competitor and NYPD officer Mathew McGrath had told Rose along the parade route “Dip that flag and you will be in a hospital tonight”.) .  When questioned by British organizers, Martin Sheridan, the team captain, reportedly responded, pointing to the American Flag, “That flag dips before no earthly king.” While revisionists have questioned if Sheridan uttered those exact words, it is recorded that British officials did confront Rose, and the team, lead by Sheridan, quickly made clear that they supported his actions.

While retiring from Olympic competition, Martin Sheridan would continue a distinguished career to with the NYPD until his death one day before his 37^th Birthday in 1918; Sheridan was one of the first victims of the infamous 1918 Flu epidemic.

The Unjust Downgrading of Sheridan’s 1906 Medals

Unfortunately. Martin Sheridan and other competitors of the 1906 Olympics, including Ireland’s Gold Medalist Peter O’Connor, have been cheated of their due recognition by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) when they decided to retroactively downgrade the 1906 Olympics and not recognize the medals awarded at that competition.   In the infancy of the Olympic movement, the process of holding an Olympics was still evolving.   After the 1900 and 1904 games had not successfully built upon the success of the initial 1896 Olympics in Athens; it was proposed to hold the Olympic games every two years, alternating between Athens, as the birthplace of the Olympics, and an international site.  The 1906 Games were promoted as an Olympics by the IOC, had better participation than the two previous Olympics, and gave rise to many of the Olympic Traditions that are still practiced today (formal opening and closing ceremonies, the idea of athletes being members of a national team, an Olympic village where the athletes from around the world stay and socialize, the raising of the flags during medal presentations). 

There may have initially been some cold, if unjust, logic in demoting the 1906 Olympic games and its medals given at the time its one-off nature, but since then the Olympics has engaged in many similar “one-offs”; most notably the current 2021 games, which are now five years from the last Olympics and only three years from the next.  There is simply no reason, other than arbitrary obstinacy, for the IOC not to recognize Martin Sheridan and the other competitors of the 1906 Olympic Games medals as Olympic medals.

Please consider signing the petition below to the U.S. Olympic Committee and the International Olympic Committee calling for the medals of the 1906 Olympics to be recognized as Olympic medals.

Patrick Henry O’Rorke was born in County Cavan, Ireland on March 25, 1837. His family emigrated from Ireland when Patrick was but a year old, eventually settling in the “Little Dublin” neighborhood of Rochester, N.Y.  An excellent student, he earned one of two scholarships to the newly formed University of Rochester.  However, his father’s sudden death required young Patrick to take a job as a marble cutter to support his family.

Patrick’s talents were too considerable to go unrecognized for long.  He came to the attention of Congressman John Williams, who recommended him for the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.  He was appointed to the Academy on January 20, 1857 and became the first Irish Immigrant to be enrolled in the Corps of Cadets.    Despite the humbleness of his origins, foreign birth, Catholic religion and being a bit older than his fellow cadets, O’Rorke was well liked and respected by his classmates who knew him as “Paddy.”  An upperclassman later recalled O’Rorke as “popular with all . . . I was impressed by his manly bearing – his kindness and unassuming manner.”

While O’Rorke was a member of the class of 1862, the outbreak of the war in 1861 and the shortage of trained officers resulted in his class’ studies being accelerated

so that they would graduate with the class of 1861.  Despite having to cram the final years’ worth of studies into six weeks, O’Rorke, the first Irish immigrant to graduate West Point, finished first in his class.  As an aside, his better-known classmate George Armstrong Custer finished last.  O’Rorke was appointed to the prestigious Corps of Engineers.

O’Rorke was at the First Battle of Bull Run where the new lieutenant had his horse shot out from under him.  He then was assigned as an engineer to help prepare the defenses of Washington D.C. from what was feared would be an imminent Confederate assault.  Later, he served with such conspicuous distinction during the siege of Fort Pulaski on Cockspur Island near Savannah, Georgia that O’Rorke was given the high honor of being one of the officers to receive the Confederate surrender of the fort.

O’Rorke returned to Rochester to be married to Clara Bishop and appointed Colonel of the newly formed 140^th NY Regiment.  The 140^th New York was composed primarily of German and Irish recruits, half of the regiment’s soldiers were born in another country.  Despite being only 25 and commanding a regiment of hardscrabble Erie Canal boatman and farmers, O’Rorke soon had them molded into an efficient military unit.  O’Rorke’s adjutant Ira Clark wrote that “every man knew that in his Colonel, so long as he did his duty, he had a kind friend.”

O’Rorke and the 140^th NY saw action at the Battle of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville.  On July 2^nd, 1863 the 140^th arrived by forced march at Gettysburg on the battle’s second day.  As part of the 3rd Brigade, the 140^th was immediately ordered to an area known as “the Wheatfield” to avert a potential disaster caused by a blunder made by Union General Dan Sickles.  As the 3^rd Brigade moved off with the 140 the last regiment in line, General Gouverneur K. Warren rode up to O’Rorke.  Warren had discovered that a steep hill called “Little Roundtop” which dominated the Union position had been left undefended. Warren knew O’Rorke from West Point, he had been his Mathematics instructor.  He ordered O’Rorke to reinforce Little Round Top; “Never mind (your Brigade Orders), Paddy. Bring them up on the double-quick and don’t stop for aligning. I’ll take the responsibility.”

This put O’Rorke in a dilemma.  O’Rorke had no obligation to follow Warren’s orders countermanding his Brigade Commander.  If things went badly in the Wheatfield, O’Rorke could be held responsible and face Court Martial and ruin.  Warren’s well-meaning assurance to “take the responsibility” would matter little if Warren should be killed in a battle that had already claimed so many lives.

O’Rorke did not hesitate.  Warren’s aide and fellow New Yorker George Washington Roebling, who would later build the Brooklyn Bridge, guided O’Rorke and his men as they scrambled up the steep hill; already exhausted from the forced march and oppressive July heat.  Reaching the top, O’Rorke saw the line of 16th Michigan beginning to crumble.

Without pause, O’Rorke drew his sword from his scabbard, and yelled: “down this way, boys!” The lead elements of the 140^th plunged over the side and “went in with a cheer,” following their Colonel to be met with a devastating volley from the advancing Confederates.  O’Rorke grabbed the regimental flag and turned to urge his men forward when a bullet ripped through his neck. Patrick O’Rorke was dead before he hit the ground.  He was 26 years old.

Harry Pfantz, the Chief Historian of the National Park Service, wrote that “O’Rorke’s five hundred men tipped the scales heavily in the defenders’ favor.” The Union would hold Little Round Top and defeat the Confederates. In his history of the American Civil War, the Comte de Paris would describe O’Rorke’s actions as one of the most striking and dramatic episodes of the battle.  Col. Joshua Chamberlain and the 20^th Maine would earn just immortality for their actions on Little Round Top later in the day.  However, the actions of Chamberlain and the 20^th Maine would not have been possible without O’Rorke, and the 140^th NY; their deeds should be equally remembered and honored.   

Postscript:  O’Rorke’s young widow Clara Bishop would take her vows as a nun of the Society of the Sacred Heart and have a distinguished career as an educator and foundress of several schools.

Neil Cosgrove, Irish American Heritage Month Chair

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth #EmbraceYourIrishHeritageAOH

Imagine the loneliness and isolation of a person who is both deaf and blind. Even worse, imagine that isolation beginning when you were only 19 months old when the disease took these vital senses away before you comprehended the concept of what the word was, leaving you with limited means to convey your thought and feelings. This is the description of the challenge that newly graduated teacher Anne Sullivan was taking on when she was hired to be the governess and teacher to seven-year-old Hellen Keller. Anne was only twenty years old and was herself seriously visually impaired.

Sullivan was born on 14 April 1866 in Feeding Hills, Agawam, Massachusetts; the oldest child of Thomas and Alice Sullivan, who emigrated to the United States from Ireland during the Great Hunger. The family lived in extreme poverty. When she was five years old, Sullivan contracted the bacterial eye disease trachoma, a painful infection that left her nearly blind. When she was eight, her mother died from tuberculosis, and two years later, her father gave up his children as he could not raise them on his own. 

 Anne and her brother, Jimmie, were sent to the almshouse in Tewksbury, Massachusetts. Underfunded and overcrowded, the Tewksbury Almshouse housed an average of 940 men, women, and children during the years that Sullivan was there.   Among its residents were those suffering severe mental illness. With primitive medical care, the mortality rate was very high; within three months of their arrival, Jimmie died, leaving Anne alone in what could only be described as an earthly hell.

Eventually, word of the horrific conditions at Tewksbury became public knowledge, prompting the state board of charities to investigate. The now teenaged Anne had heard that there were schools that specialized in educating the visually impaired. When a group of inspectors came to the almshouse in 1880, Anne followed them around until finally flinging herself on one of the officials, Frank B. Sanborn, pleading, “Mr. Sanborn, Mr. Sanborn, I want to go to school!”

Anne was transferred to the Perkins School for the Blind on 7 October 1880. Anne was woefully behind in her education, and the rough manners required to survive in the almshouse made it difficult for her to fit in amongst a student body that was mainly composed of children of the affluent. Yet, she soon closed the gap with her classmates with iron-willed determination. Sullivan underwent a series of eye operations that significantly improved her vision. In June 1886, she graduated as the valedictorian of her class. In her valedictorian address, she stated:

“Duty bids us go forth into active life. Let us go cheerfully, hopefully, and earnestly, and set ourselves to find our especial [sic] part. When we have found it, willingly and faithfully perform it; for every obstacle we overcome, every success we achieve tends to bring man closer to God and make life more as He would have it.”

Sullivan arrived at Helen Keller’s house on March 5, 1887. Sullivan immediately began to teach Helen to communicate by spelling words into her hand, starting with “d-o-l-l” for the doll that she had brought Keller as a present. At first, the work was slow and frustrating; Keller had no understanding of connecting objects and words.

However, after a month of Sullivan’s constant and patient efforts, there was a breakthrough. As Sullivan spelled the word water in one hand while running cool water over the other, Helen Keller made the connection that the gestures symbolized “water.”   

Sullivan’s breakthrough in communicating with Keller came the next month when Helen realized that the motions her teacher was making on the palm of her hand while running cool water over her other hand symbolized the idea of “water.”  Keller later recalled, “I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten — a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that w-a-t-e-r meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. The living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, set it free!.”  Having released the genie of language out of the bottle, Keller nearly exhausted Sullivan with her zeal to learn the names of the other objects in her world. Within six months under Anne Sullivan’s guidance, Keller learned 575 words and the “multiplication tables as high as five and the Braille system.”

Anne Sullivan would be Helen Keller’s companion for the rest of Anne’s life. She would travel with Hellen to study at the Perkins School for the Blind and later the Horace Mann School for the Deaf.   She accompanied Helen to Radcliff, where Keller graduated as a member of Phi Beta Kappa, becoming the first deaf-blind person to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree. 

Anne Sullivan would remain a constant companion to Helen Keller until her death on October 20, 1936, with Helen holding her hand.   Sullivan was interred at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C, the first woman to be recognized for her achievements in this way. When Keller died in 1968, she was cremated, and her ashes were interred alongside those of Sullivan.

It was no less a person than  Mark Twain who described Anne Sullivan as ‘a Miracle Worker.’  Sullivan not only conquered the darkness of her own early life but opened the world to a young girl cut off and alone. Anne Sullivan’s resolute spirit should inspire all of us.

Neil F. Cosgrove  ©

Let’s take them one at a time.  Some claim St. Patrick to be Italian because he was born in Roman occupied territory, and his name was Patricius.  Sadly, the mists of time have clouded the exact location of his birth, but what is concluded from available evidence is that he was born somewhere in Wales around 386 AD.  Patrick himself wrote that the scene of his youth was Banavem Tiburniae (possibly the town of Tiburnia near Holyhead in western Wales), where his father was a member of the governing body.  Other Welsh sources suggest southern Wales near the Bristol Channel at the mouth of the Severn River.  Although Wales was part of the Roman Empire at that time, it was a Celtic country and its people were one race with the people of Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, Cornwall, and the Isle of Man.  As for his Italian sounding name, it was given to him when he was consecrated Bishop and assigned to the mission in Ireland.  Before that time, our patron Saint’s name was Succat, a Celtic name meaning victorious.  There is, therefore, more evidence to suggest that Patrick was Celtic than any other nationality.  He even identified himself as such in his letter to the British prince, Corocticus.

As for the snakes, although a popular legend, it is scientifically known that there never were any in Ireland, to begin with.  His connection with that legend stems from the Viking misinterpretation of his name.  Paud in the old Norse language meant a toad, and when the Vikings heard of a Saint called Paud-rig, who had lived in Ireland before their coming, they concluded it meant toad-expeller.  That was only the beginning, because the legend was reinforced by the Church’s representation of the Devil in the form of a serpent, and statues of Patrick driving the Devil out of Ireland in that form.  The fact that there were no snakes led to the question, “what happened to them,” and the answer was easily found in St Patrick’s traditional statue.  However, Patrick is more revered for what he brought to Ireland than what he drove away.  Yet he was not the first to bring Christianity . . . he was, however, the most effective.

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

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

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

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

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

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

During its period of operation from 1892 till 1954, over 12 million immigrants entered through the immigration station at Ellis Island, a name that was to become synonymous with the “Golden Door” and the “American Dream”. It is estimated that today over forty percent of the United States population can trace their ancestry to an immigrant that entered Ellis Island.

On New Year’s Day Morning 1892 on the deck of the steamship Nevada stood three adolescents, Annie Moore and her brothers Phillip and Anthony. They were perhaps staring at another recent immigrant from France, the Statue of Liberty. The children had made the twelve-day voyage from Cork in the claustrophobic conditions of steerage to be reunited with their parents and older siblings who had traveled on ahead to make a new life in America two years earlier. In addition to the natural apprehension of starting a new life in a strange land, the children had no doubt heard that they would be subject to a series of examinations at the immigration station; they would be checked to ensure they were healthy and then interrogated to ensure they were neither a threat or likely to become “a public charge”. A slight malady or a wrong answer could result in them being returned to the Nevada and a trip back to Ireland alone. It therefore must have been with some anxiety that Annie realized that she would be the first to go down the gangplank.

It must have been quite a shock when Annie now found herself caught up in what we would now call a PR event surrounding the opening of the new immigration station. The New York Times was there and described Annie as “a little rosy-cheeked Irish girl… fifteen years of age.” (Actually, Annie was closer to seventeen years of age. The children’s ages were all misstated on the manifest, perhaps an attempt by their parents to save money on their passage.) Instead of an anonymous immigration agent, Annie was officially registered by the former private secretary to the secretary of the treasury. The Times continued “When the little voyager had been registered Col. Weber presented her with a ten-dollar gold piece and made a short address of congratulation and welcome. It was the first United States coin she had ever seen and the largest sum of money she ever possessed. She says she will never part with it.” This moment was later commemorated in the song “Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears” popularized by the Irish tenor Ronan Tynan.

Sadly, there would be no fairy tale ending to the life of Annie Moore, her brief moment of notoriety would be a shining moment in a hard and trying life. The statement that Annie would never part with the ten dollar gold piece was likely an invention of a romantic reporter; the coin probably never lasted the day when Annie was reunited with her family who was eking out an existence on her father’s longshoreman salary. She would spend the rest of her life living in a series of tenements near the Fulton Street Fish Market. She would marry the son of a German immigrant who was employed as a bakery clerk. They would have 11 children, but would bury five of them. Annie herself would die at the early age of 47 in 1924; burned out by a life of poverty and struggle.

Annie Moore was initially buried in an unmarked grave in Calvary Cemetery, Queens until it was rediscovered in 2006. Through the efforts of the Irish American community, the grave was marked by a Celtic Cross of Irish Blue Limestone. Some cynics questioned the elaborateness of the memorial given the grim reality of Annie’s life. However, in honoring Annie Moore we honor all the other anonymous Irish men and women who came to this country and sacrificed their present for future generations’ tomorrow while at the same time building America. It is reported that many of the current descendants of Annie’s surviving children are successful and respected members of the community.

It is right and proper that we remember the many great Irish American men and women who gained well deserved distinction in government, the military, the arts and sciences. However in remembering Annie Moore we remember the countless other anonymous Irish Americans who loaded our ships as Annie’s father did, built our railroads, fought our fires, patrolled our streets and taught in our schools.

Annie Moore is a reminder that the success of Irish America comes from sweat, sacrifice, and tears and not “the luck of the Irish”. It is time we reclaimed the struggle and successes of Irish America from the unmarked grave where it currently lies buried in our school’s curricula. She is also a reminder that the “Golden Door” that she once walked through is now unjustly closed to Irish immigrants as it freely swings open to others; a challenge to complete her memorial by seeking a fair and just immigration policy for today’s Annie Moore’s.

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

#IrishAmericanHeritageMonth

Neil F. Cosgrove  ©