The 1992 Irish American Presidential Forum. Bill Clinton delivers a series of pledges to Irish America. Sitting beside him is forum moderator Jack Irwin. Martin Galvin is one of the three journalists asking questions of Clinton and his seated in the middle
Irish Northern Aid Documentary Wins ‘Royal’ Award
News April 30, 2026 by Martin Galvin
RTÉ’s acclaimed documentary “NORAID: IRISH AMERICA AND THE IRA” was named the Best Factual Series at the Royal Television Society Ireland Awards in Dublin on April 16th.
The two part series tells how Irish Americans, over a quarter century, defied opposition, indeed vilification by the British, Irish and American governments, to deliver vital political backing and publicity for the Irish Republican Army struggle, and millions of dollars for prisoners’ families.
Director Kevin Brannigan and Producer Jamie Goldrick of Up and Away Media won the coveted award for telling a story that had been all but hidden.
Early on in the documentary viewers see Michael Flannery, the Tipperary IRA Veteran of the Black and Tan, and Civil Wars, who fifty years later helped found Irish Northern Aid or Noraid, this at a time when money was desperately needed by the families of those arrested or interned.
Viewers glimpse the forces lined up against Noraid. British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher shrilly condemns Noraid support. She is echoed by Irish Prime Ministers Charles Haughey, Liam Cosgrave and even American President Ronald Reagan.
Former New York Governor Hugh Carey, one of the “Four Horseman,” who along with Ted Kennedy, Daniel Patrick Moynihan and Tip O’Neill aligned with John Hume and Irish officials against Sinn Féin, bitterly attacks Michael Flannery as Grand Marshal leading the 1983 New York St. Patrick’s Day Parade – one of the largest ever held despite boycotts.
Hostile press is exemplified by a 1985 Irish Independent editorial expressing outrage that Americans would want to see the north firsthand, or hear Irish Republican leaders banned from broadcast airways, and denied visas to the United States.
News coverage termed Irish Republican Army Volunteers, “sectarian terrorists” or “mindless criminals” whose American supporters must be “misguided” or “misty-eyed.” British officials even blamed Irish Americans, not British injustice, for the Irish conflict, or incidents like the brutal Internment Day 1984 attack on peaceful demonstrators, including 130 Noraid tour members, watched by millions, during American network coverage of the Los Angeles Olympics.
Top British spy Denis Donaldson would be sent to wreck Noraid from within, while an FBI official admits getting frequent demands for action from the White House at Britain’s behest.
Against this array, Irish Americans, some born in Ireland and others generations removed, joined together simply because they saw Irish men and women in a desperate struggle against British rule, and would not stand idly by.
For them, tirades by Thatcher, or her various allies, were accolades to be repeated aloud at rallies with cheers and laughter. It was truly NORAID: IRISH AMERICA AND THE IRA, because as long as Noraid members were willing to take a stand, congressmen, labor leaders, civil rights lawyers, Hibernians and other Irish organizations were willing to stand with them.
Brannigan and Goldrick tell this remarkable story by mixing historic archival film with first hand interviews of Noraid members. As the words of the 1916 Easter Proclamation, “supported by her exiled children in America” are highlighted, John McDonagh explains how Irish Americans were part of every struggle for freedom in Ireland, since the early 1800s. John himself played a major role in a Times Square display, planned as a Christmas message to Irish political prisoners, which unexpectedly became an international news story, courtesy of hysterical British tabloids.
Brigid Brannigan from South Armagh and Fr. Patrick Maloney from Limerick were two of the Irish-born members who joined Noraid when conflict broke out and carried the organization during its early years, headquartered in a small Bronx office with two phones, taking on the unlimited resources of the British.
Kathleen Savage and Michael Shanley met on the 1985 fact-finding visit, which so outraged the Irish Independent. Kathleen defied Royal Ulster Constabulary commands to surrender her camera, while Michael was arrested for shouting “British troops out of Ireland” in a chance encounter with a British royal in New York.
He describes his emotional trip to Manhattan on the day of Bobby Sands’ funeral, followed by a television news clip, “They are massing by the thousands outside the British Consulate outraged by the death of Bobby Sands.”
Chris Byrne’s song “Fenians” captured the spirit of Noraid, and the former New York City Policeman described how the New York City Emerald Society Pipe Band came to march in honor of the Hunger Strikers in Bundoran County Donegal, despite Gardai complaints, in what became “the band’s finest hour.”
This documentary goes right at questions of whether Noraid monies went to finance arms for the IRA. The producers managed to get groundbreaking interviews with three men, Gabriel Megahey, John Crawley and Patrick Nee, who make no apologies for helping arm IRA Volunteers during the Troubles, and served years of imprisonment for doing so.
They each made the point, categorically, that not only were Noraid monies not used for arms purchases, but it would have been foolhardy to become involved with a public organization like Noraid.
The program traces how Noraid was key to the decades-long fight to put the Irish conflict on the American presidential agenda, with a Noraid leader positioned to ask candidate Bill Clinton to pledge a visa for Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams during the historic Irish American Presidential Forum of 1992. Clinton’s Irish pledges followed by his election victory opened the door for the American involvement that followed.
That breakthrough can be traced directly to the H-Blocks and ultimately the Hunger Strikers, whose inspiration transformed Noraid. In 1978 two Irish Republicans came to New York with a message from H-Block prison leader Brendan Hughes, that the Blanketmen needed American publicity and political pressure to win their fight against brutal British attempts to break them.
A key part of the reorganization and campaign which followed were Blanketmen, Ciaran Nugent, Fra McCann, Joe Maguire and Seamus Delaney coming illegally for rallies organized by Noraid across the U.S., making the H-Blocks an American issue. Viewers see film of one Noraid rally outside New York’s Lincoln Center where 15,000 stood with siblings of Bobby Sands, Patsy O’Hara, Ray McCreesh and Joe McDonnell to humiliate Britain’s then Prince Charles.
The daily rallies across America during the 1981 Hunger Strike contributed to the victory over criminalization. They also convinced New York Assemblyman John Dearie that we could make Ireland a presidential issue using candidate forums.
The influx of new supporters led to bringing hundreds of Americans like Kathleen Savage and Michael Shanley to see the six counties for the first time. When the Thatcher government tried to quell Noraid supported by an Exclusion Order forbidding me entry to the six counties, Sinn Féin decided the ban must be challenged. The televised scenes of the murderous RUC attack on unarmed Internment Day demonstrators shocked millions by showing the true face of British rule.
There followed political battles around the MacBride Principles and Irish Political Deportees that time would not permit to be included in the two hour program. Ultimately, with Clinton’s pledges and election victory, many of those who had condemned Noraid and Sinn Féin now came around.
Noraid and its historic contributions against overwhelming opposition seemed all but whitewashed out of history.
Now Kevin Brannigan and Jamie Goldrick have told that story with a skill and authenticity that won “Noraid: Irish America and the IRA” the prestigious Royal Television Society award as Best Factual Series.
It also won them plaudits from former Noraid members, who never expected credit but are thankful to have their story told.
Martin Galvin was National Publicity Director of Noraid from 1979-1995 and for most of that period was editor of the Irish People newspaper. He has been Ancient Order of Hibernians Freedom for all Ireland Chairman since 2018.
Several hundred people turned out at a Sinn Féin event in Scotstown in County Monaghan last Sunday to mark the 40th anniversary of the death of IRA legend, Óglach Séamus McElwain. The event celebrated a life dedicated to his community and to the achievement of a free, independent, and united Ireland. The following is a biography of his life, by Jim Doyle.
Séamus was born on April 1st 1960, the oldest of eight children in the townland of Knockacullion, beside the hamlet and townland of Knockatallon, near the village of Scotstown in the north of County Monaghan.
At the age of 14, he took his first steps towards becoming involved in Republicanism when he joined Na Fianna Éireann. Two years later, he turned down an opportunity to study in the United States and joined the Irish Republican Army (IRA), stating, “no one will ever be able to accuse me of running away.”
He became Officer Commanding of the IRA in County Fermanagh by the age of 19.
On February 5th 1980, off-duty Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) corporal Aubrey Abercrombieb was killed as he drove a tractor in the townland of Drumacabranagher, near Florencecourt.
Later that year, on September 23, off-duty Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) Reserve Constable Ernest Johnston was killed outside his home in Rosslea.
On March 14th 1981, a detachment of the British Army surrounded a farmhouse near Roslea, containing Séamus and three other IRA members. Despite being armed with four rifles, including an Armalite, the IRA members surrendered and were arrested.
While on remand in Crumlin Road, he stood as a Republican candidate in the 1982 Free State General Election for the Cavan/Monaghan constituency, contesting a seat which had formerly been held by hunger strike martyr Kieran Doherty.
He was not elected but received 3,974 votes (6.84% of the vote).
In May 1982, he was convicted of murdering the RUC and UDR members, with the judge recommending he spend at least 30 years in prison.
On September 25th 1983, Séamus was involved in the Maze Prison escape, the largest break-out of prisoners in Europe since World War II and in British prison history.
Thirty-eight Republican prisoners, armed with six handguns, hijacked a prison meals lorry and smashed their way out of the prison.
After the escape, Seamus joined an IRA Active Service Unit operating in the border area between Counties Monaghan and Fermanagh.
The unit targeted police and military patrols with gun and bomb attacks while sleeping rough in barns and outhouses to avoid capture.
Séamus held a meeting with Pádraig McKearney and Jim Lynagh, members of the Provisional IRA East Tyrone Brigade, in which they discussed forming a flying column aimed at destroying police stations to create IRA-controlled zones within the six counties.
This plan had been used to great effect during the War of Independence, especially in Cork with Tom Barry’s Flying Column.
However, this plan never materialised.
McKearney and Lynagh were later themselves killed in the Loughgall ambush.
On April 26, 1986, Séamus and another IRA member, Seán Lynch, were preparing to ambush a British Army patrol near Rosslea, County Fermanagh when they were ambushed themselves by a detachment from the Special Air Service Regiment. Both were wounded, but Lynch managed to crawl away.
A January 1993 inquest jury returned a verdict that Séamus had been unlawfully killed. The jury ruled that the soldiers had opened fire without giving him a chance to surrender, and that he was shot dead five minutes after being wounded.
The Director of Public Prosecutions requested a full report on the inquest from the RUC, but no one was prosecuted for Séamus’s death.
Séamus McElwain was buried in Scotstown, with his funeral attended by an estimated 3,000 people.
Your ancestors knelt in open fields to pray. Not because they had no church. Because someone had decided that practicing their faith was a criminal act. And they went anyway.
Under the Penal Laws of the late 17th and early 18th centuries, Catholic worship was effectively banned in Ireland. Catholic churches were seized or destroyed. Catholic clergy faced imprisonment, transportation, or execution. The institutional structure of Irish Catholic life was systematically dismantled by a government that understood, correctly, that faith was the thing holding the Irish people together and that breaking it would break them.
It did not break them.
Mass rocks appeared across the Irish countryside. Flat stones on hillsides, in fields, at the edges of bogs, that became altars. Priests who had been trained in secret on the continent returned to Ireland and moved from townland to townland, saying Mass in the open air with lookouts posted to watch for soldiers. Entire communities gathered in wind and rain and cold to participate in something they had been told they were not permitted to do.
The punishment for attending was severe. The attendance was extraordinary.
Your ancestors were among those people. They knelt in a field in the rain because the alternative was letting someone else decide what they were allowed to believe, and that was not a concession the Irish were willing to make. Not then. Not ever.
The faith that runs in your family did not come from compliance. It came from defiance. From people who chose it when choosing it had consequences and kept choosing it every Sunday in every field for as long as the law said they couldn’t.
That is not religion. That is your bloodline refusing to be told who it is.
The Nobel Prize winning poet made his position unmistakably clear in 1983, responding to being labeled a British writer. Through his poem Open Letter, Heaney asserted his Irish identity with words that still resonate today:
“Be advised my passport’s green. No glass of ours was ever raised to toast the Queen.”
More than a line of poetry, it was a cultural statement. A reminder of Ireland’s distinct voice, history, and pride on the world stage.
Over 40 years later, those words continue to echo across generations
How Hanna Hats keeps Irish heritage alive through timeless style
A family-run Donegal brand blends tradition, craftsmanship, and everyday style to keep Irish heritage alive across generations.
A vintage-style cap from Hanna Hats of Donegal Ltd. Hanna Hats.
Their flat caps have become a lasting favorite because they are rooted in place, easy to wear, and built to last. For Irish Americans looking for something with both ancestry and everyday usefulness, Hanna Hats offers a clear Donegal connection with broad appeal.
Hanna Hats of Donegal Ltd has been handcrafting headwear in Donegal since 1924, and the company still describes its work as a family tradition carried forward across generations. On its site, they say each piece is made by hand in their Donegal workshop with locally sourced materials, while the heritage page notes that the business was expanded internationally and that the United States became its biggest market under John Hanna’s leadership.
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David Hanna, who established Hanna Hats in 1924.
Their signature look is the Vintage Cap Tweed, which the brand calls its best-selling tweed cap. The style captures the reason the label endures, since Hanna Hats describes it as “a timeless piece, worn for generations and treasured by many,” and the product page says its flat peak offers protection from rain, wind, and sun.
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Donegal Touring Cap from Hanna Hats.
That practicality is part of the charm. Their caps and hats move easily from jeans and a knit sweater to a suit, a wax jacket or wedding attire, which helps explain why the brand feels relevant far beyond nostalgia. Their linen caps are promoted for warm weather and formal occasions such as summer weddings, while styles like the Donegal Touring cap are presented as a slimmer, tailored option for modern wear.
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A skipper hat from Hanna Hats.
The Irish American connection also comes through in the way the brand is used as a gift. IrishCentral has featured Hanna Hats in its St. Patrick’s Day and Irish gift guides, underscoring how the company has become a familiar name for shoppers seeking something proudly Irish, useful and longstanding. That makes the brand especially meaningful for milestones, holiday giving and family occasions, where a cap can function as both a wardrobe staple and a keepsake.
Hanna Hats also leans into the poetry of place. The company says each creation is “a little piece of luxury from Donegal,” and that line neatly sums up its staying power for readers on both sides of the Atlantic. In a market crowded with fast fashion, they offer something sturdier, slower and more personal.