Paddy McMenaminis a native of Belfast, a former internee and IRA prisoner and even a one time fan of Glentoran football club. He lives in Galway these days but recently received an invitation he never expected to receive and could not refuse.
I was about eight years of age and living in the Annadale estate in south Belfast, we had moved there from Mountcoyller in Tigers Bay down the Shore Road, my parents being Catholic from Tyrone and Donegal weren’t great at the old geography at national school! There were four blocks of flats at Annandale and it was 90% protestant with just a few catholic families, but back in 1962 it didn’t really matter a lot especially to my young friends who were all protestant and I, we just had fun on the streets as you could in those far off days, for the adults well maybe Yuri Gagarin being the first man in space, or the Yanks fiasco at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba; the latest IRA Border campaign coming to an end; Chubby Checker, Neil Sedaka and the gyrating sensation Elvis were top of the charts; in sport Brazil were in the middle of two World Cups with a 17 year old genius Pele; Down were the first northern team to bring Sam Maguire across the border in ’60 & ’61, not that there was any talk of that in our house as my Dad wasn’t a football man and Annandale wouldn’t be a hotbed for the GAA!
Those innocent days of youth were filled with street games; kick the tin, rounder’s, tag, hide and seek, Batman and Superman comics, but in my last summer in Annadale we went up to the bonfire that had been built nearby on waste ground, as I approached the giant pile of wood of all description I was met by a big lad of about 15, ‘fuci off you fenian bastxxd’! My wee friends said to just slip away quietly and as I walked down the hill I couldn’t help thinking to myself, ‘what’s a fenian bastxxd’? That was my only experience of sectarian bigotry at that stage; our family then moved across the city to West Belfast and the new catholic estate of Turf Lodge, it was the reverse of Annadale with only a few protestant families. The next few years were spent with new little friends but interestingly around ’65 we started going across the city to the Oval to follow Glentoran and for the next few years there we were about a dozen ‘fenian bastxxds’ in the midst of a 90% protestant fanbase but not once did we ever have a problem except ironically when we would join in the occasional battle with rival Linfield fans, sure we couldn’t support the ‘Blues’?
August ‘69 and the beginning of conflict marked a change for everyone in our society, the Falls burning, British troops on our streets, Curfew, Internment, Bloody Sunday, Bloody Friday, our lives would never be the same again. Leaving school prematurely in ’69 at 15 wasn’t the greatest idea I ever had but it led to working in a trendy city centre bar. On the 12th July ‘70 I was walking past the City Hall to get to work and the Orange parade was passing through, it was and still is the only time I’ve ever seen an Orange parade in the flesh, I stood for a few minutes as the parade passed but as it paused I took a chance to cross the road without getting hit across the head by one of those big sticks. I recall a banner with an elegant gay guy (can you say that nowadays?) with long hair on the back of a white horse, apparently he was called William King something or just Billy to his friends, I would learn later he was the cause of all our problems nearly 300 years earlier in a bit of a skirmish down by a river in Meath, nowadays you just use the Toll Bridge and 3.20euro to get across!
The 70’s took on a life of their own after that, sectarian violence, armed struggle, political stagnation, Long Kesh, death, destruction, hunger strikes before peace prevailed as politicians prevaricated until Good Friday became more than the day Jesus was crucified. Like many I became involved in the conflict and spent many years in Long Kesh, in the Cages I became friends with a UVF prisoner ‘Plum’ Smith, we used to talk across the wire, he would be the only protestant I ever met or talked to over many years. When we burned the place down in ’74 the loyalists gave us logistical support and in Cage 19 they hung a flag up with a green hand and red hand clasped with the legend, ‘united we stand, divided we fall’! On the 12th every year we would watch on as they had their parade in the Cages with home-made sashes and other regalia, not sure if Gusty Spence wore a bowler hat but they would as well turned out as we would on Easter Sunday with our berets and dark glasses commemorating 1916 and the loyalists in turn would watch on.
We all received our political education within those Cages in Long Kesh, as has been said many times it was a University of intrigue, as the working class flotsam of the conflict we gained an education we never got outside and used it to create a better future. One major thing I discovered in Long Kesh was that sectarianism is evil and should be eradicated. I would imagine that most born in Belfast have that sectarianism as part of their DNA to some degree, it’s unfortunate but you have to work hard to get it out of your system, thankfully I achieved that and to this day find the whole experience of sectarianism disgusting. When I left the prison camp I talked to young IRA Vols. about sectarianism and how it was evil, it was an open door as sectarian bigotry is not part of the republican ethos. For some within loyalism there is a big job to be done to try and eradicate bigotry from their lives, it appears as part of the culture yet it is as evil as racism. We have been unfortunate in Ireland that the national question has overlapped the religious divide, that it has been fostered by centuries of British rule is often overlooked.
My life went off on a tangent and new direction in the 80’s, I was domiciled in Donegal for 30 years and the one little bit of ‘Norn Irn’ that prevailed was the annual Orange march at Rossnowlagh, every year 10,000 Orangemen would march at the seaside village wedged between Ballyshannon/Bundoran and while we would be aware of it we were never inclined to travel through Barnesmore Gap to either cheer or jeer, sure it really was a sideshow with wee farmers from Fermanagh joining Donegal chain smoking bog men for their annual day out and a ’99 by the sea as some Grand Master blessed the poor locals left stranded under the ‘grey skies of the Irish Republic’.
The new Millenium brought a further change in my life as I took redundancy and went back to University as a mature student in a distinguished education establishment on the west coast, five years later I graduated as a Secondary school Teacher, that education gained in those damned Cages in the 70’s was never wasted! In the last decade through a mutual friend in Belfast I got to know a former RUC member during the conflict, a protestant, an entrepreneur, a cross border community worker, a man I now class as a good friend. The three of us have interesting discussions through the various channels on social media indeed we should have a Podcast it gets so heated. But while we have wined and dined and drank Gunpowder Gin on a disused bridge on the Leitrim/Fermanagh border he really took my breath away recently when he asked me would I be interested in joining him to attend a 12th July Orange parade in Fermanagh?
Now this was an invitation I never expected? I’ve seen and shared a lot in life, made great friends in Belfast, Donegal and Galway, and shot the breeze in many places but Wednesday 12th in a small town in Fermanagh is going to be an experience and a half? The Orange Order to me was always something strange? A secret society, a funny handshake, oh no that’s the Masons, are they the same? Every year in the middle of the holiday season when the whole of nationalist West Belfast head for the sunny beaches in Downings and Portsalon, 100,000 Orangemen walk the walk from Roaring Hanna’s statue to Finaghy in the old days, a roasting hot day and they are dressed in the Sunday best, bowler hats and sashes whereas the fenians are in shorts and bikinis drinking pina coladas by the sea in Dunfanaghy; oh no that’s where the rich Prods head off to, no marching for them just golf by Marble Hill? What does it all mean to us disaffected fenians who reject the statelet and are now in the majority; maybe soon the Belfast ones will be holidaying in Bang-gor!
We grew up with distaste for the ‘Orange’? It represented sectarianism and bigotry, bonfires on the 11th night, parades through streets they weren’t welcome the next day. A celebration of two foreign Kings fighting a battle across an Irish river with Irish soldiers on both sides slaughtered to gain a throne in England. A Protestant King blessed by the Pope against a Catholic King who wasn’t pushed and was back in Paris before the first shot was fired. And here we are over 330 years later having a piss up and winding up our neighbours, bit like BBC showing England winning the World Cup in ’66 every Xmas! The BEEB & Sky just announced the coverage live this year but nobody watches it, the Orange are on shanks mare and the fenians are in Donegal, Ryan Tubridy didn’t get such easy money!
But maybe things are changing? Derry Minor footballers won the All Ireland title last week and as they were passing through Moneymore the local Orange Order delayed their parade till the Derry team had passed through and some even applauded. Now isn’t that the way it should be? Cut out all the nonsense, the anti catholic bigotry, make it what they say it should be, a festival for all to enjoy?
So after giving it a lot of thought I agreed that I would go along on to watch the parade amongst the dreary steeples of Fermanagh, he’s promised me a good Ulster t-bone steak after the parade and a ’99, you know what, I’m looking forward to the day, and my impressions of the day will follow after the Gunpowder gin!
Well that was the day that was? We headed off from Galway at 7.30am and made it to Cavan around 10, coffee en route. 15 minutes later we met Keith at Belturbet, funny I mixed it up with Clontibret where Peter Robinson once led an advance force to invade the Republic! 30 mins later we arrive at the Clinton centre in Enniskillen where Keith is the Director, the building itself is just beside the monument where an IRA bomb killed 11 civilians in 1988. I meet up with a few of the International students who spend time at the centre every summer, one from Afghanistan and another from Libya, two from Switzerland and Ruben from Zaragoza in Spain. We then make the short 10 minute journey to the small village of Ballinamallard where the Fermanagh county 12th parade was being held this year; Ballinamallard is an almost totally protestant/loyalist/unionist village and the roads leading to it are bedecked with Union flags.
We park up and walk the last half mile to the starting point which is Ballinamallard United’s football club pitch. It’s funny but my only memory of Ballinamallard is once when my son was playing for a Finn Harps team against them, Johnny Speake from Sion Mills (45 minutes away) was Manager of Harps; apparently in the changing rooms he told the guys to get ready and Kevin pulled off his jacket and revealed a Celtic top, Speake had palpitations; ‘ffs take that off you’ll get us killed here’! Another little observation, the day previously I was golfing and a golf buddy originally from Omagh wasn’t too impressed when I informed him where I was going; ‘not too sure about that’? Like myself he’s domiciled in the Republic for 40+ years but that’s just the way things were in the 70’s, territorial boundaries prevailed.
Anyway the parade started up and away they went must have been 100 bands if there was one, I suppose you could say if you’ve seen one well….? But they each represented their local lodge and there was a pride in their manner as they stepped out, I’ve seen it before in Malta in a different context. In summer amid 40o heat each village had their ‘traditional’ parade but instead of a Sash and a big drum and ‘fleg’ the locals in Marsaskala and Ta Xbiex would be carrying a statue of Our Lady, Malta being a totally conservative and catholic country despite the British being there for 160 years! So the Orange parade yesterday reminded me of that, here we were in this tiny hamlet in Fermanagh and the locals, the in-laws and outlaws, ex ‘B’ Specials, UDR, RUC & British Army, mostly old white men as the Swiss girl observed, but this was their annual day out, did they really think about King Billy on his white stallion crossing the Boyne or were they wondering would it rain before they got the hay in?
There was a kaleidoscope of colour, red, white & blue of course, Union Jacks, Ulster flags, Orange & Purple Orange Order flags, some young ones with Rangers tops; there was bands from Donegal, Cavan & Monaghan, lots of Orange lodges in these border counties still; the bands entertained as they passed, the music was fairly muted with an arrangement of songs which wouldn’t offend, there were no ‘Kick the Pope’ bands here or guys with bigger bellies than Lambeg drums battering them like there was no tomorrow!
I found the day interesting and not in the least threatening, saying that with my fedora hat and Lanzarote tan I think I looked more like a visiting Yank rather than a West Belfast fenian. Keith introduced me to a few people at random, one older guy bedecked in a variety of badges on his Sash explained what each stood for; 60 years membership of the Order; former ‘B’ Special, RUC & UDR man and their respective lodges, his wife from Ballintra; I’m sure he felt he did his bit to defend the border from those jihad IRA men crossing from ‘Afghanistan’ as a Unionist MP referred to Donegal during the Boundary Commission in ’25?
We watched the parade set off for the ‘field’ it probably took two hours to pass us, a few times we crossed the road to Kitty O’Shea’s food van for coffee, no-one objected here as we crossed unlike in 80% catholic Ballycastle where a nationalist in his own town was attacked for breaking ranks and the jeering cheering crowds were ‘up to their knees in fenian blood’; now that’s the aggression and the other side of the 12th July? In my humble opinion there would be no noise or concern if the loyal institutions marched where they are welcome and that’s not in nationalist areas like Derry and Ballycastle where they pulled down tricolours in the morning and replaced them with Union Jacks? This didn’t happen in Ballinamallard because nobody objects there and that’s ‘grand’ as the Swiss guy said to me, ‘nobody in the English speaking world uses ‘grand’ like the Irish do? The young guy from Zaragoza queried, ‘but these people say they are British not Irish’? ‘Wait until we play England in the rugby or Rory wins the Open at St Andrews’ then see how they feel’?
Of course it’s a difficult subject, didn’t we have 30 years of conflict over the very issue? I grew up in this place, well in the urban expanse of nationalist West Belfast, we didn’t have Orange parades but the other side of the city did; it’s supposed to be a festival but in reality it’s an orgy of sectarian hatred, we see it every year yet it’s tolerated; bonfires with effigies of Michelle O’Neill, would be First Minister if the DUP allowed it? Posters of the leaders of Irish nationalism and the Pope, even this year the new presenter of the Late Late Show Co. Down comedian Paddy Kielty, they all adorned the unlit bonfire before the 11th night, then a display of drunken scantily clad women and would be UDA hard men engage in a display of disgusting sectarian behaviour not replicated anywhere in the real world except in Glasgow, that’s what it looks like to people everywhere, even in England, can you imagine what it looks like in the Republic where I’m domiciled now? As we’re in the period of looking at a possible referendum in the near future isn’t it ironic that it’s not the voting patterns in the 6 counties that will count but how the Republic will vote, the obscene nature of 12th celebrations in certain areas in the ‘north’ leave a lot to be desired and need both communities to sit down and try and come to an agreement where the sectarian nonsense is ended once and for all and then let the parades become what they should be, akin to Feile an Phobail every year in August in West Belfast, the largest community festival in Ireland!
So that’s the negative side of things as I reflect back on the day that was in it on Wednesday? Did I enjoy the day, maybe I could find another adjective? It was interesting and different, I was among people who I never mixed with much in my lifetime, I knew there were people who had been in the hated ‘B’ Specials, UDR, British Army, loyalist paramilitaries, Orange Order, Black Perceptory et al; no-one had any problem with my presence but then 99.9% didn’t know I was a fenian from West Belfast, a former IRA prisoner of war in Long Kesh, maybe if I’d swapped my fedora & umbrella for my Irish passport and Galway golf club logo I mightn’t have received a cead mile failte in Ulster Scots? Would I go back next year, I don’t know, to be honest it was pretty boring as the Scots pipe band strung up Dolly’s Brae, just as boring as the parades in Marsaaxlokk by the Mediterranean with statues of religion, isn’t that what it’s all about, religion?
My introduction to this world of Ulster loyalism for the day was mein host extraordinaire Keith. As a former RUC man in the 80’s he had been stationed in Ballinamallard when times were bad, this made the whole thing even more poignant, there was a son of a Shankill Road ‘doggie’ man who won Irish titles with sleek greyhounds and a mammy from Fermanagh still going strong in her 90’s who finds her son cavorting with a former IRA man turned Teacher and Writer as strange as big Ian & Martin chuckling in Stormont with Tony Blair and Bill Clinton? Keith’s a Brexiteer and I’m a golfer (of sorts), I find his thoughts on Britain’s role in Ireland and the EU as perverse as he finds my interest in hitting a little white projectile 400 metres and tapping it into a 6’’ hole for a birdie?
But maybe, just maybe, that’s the crux of the whole matter? As Paddy Kielty quoted recently the Down Captain after becoming the first northern team to win the All Ireland in 1960 and bring Sam Maguire across the border said to his team before the game; ‘whether we win or not the Mountains of Mourne will still be standing when we return’? I turn 70 soon, all those years ago the Orange walked down our street in Tigers Bay just as they did yesterday in Fermanagh; I’m as Irish now as I was then and so are they if even with a British tinge? We live in this shared but divided island and always will do, when the Fermanagh brethren visit England or the Republic they are as Irish as me, they aren’t like those in old colonial outposts like Malta, Gibraltar, Cyprus or the Falklands, the Med and South Atlantic are far from Ballinamallard? If we are to have a safe shared future for our grandchildren then we need to come together and pave a way ahead. We could do it back in the mid 60’s going over to the Oval for the football or when talking to ‘Plum’ Smith in the Cages. I spent a week at the Somme & Ypres post millennium in the company of ex UDR, UVF, British Army, Sinn Fein, IRA, poets, writers, thinkers and dreamers, the trip organised by Glen Barr (RIP) was an amazing week, the conflict was over and we could sit and talk and drink fine French vino without rancour, like Wednesday that was a week to remember!
On Wed, July 5, 2023, the Irish Voice newspaper, in New York, went to print for the last time. Founded 36 years ago by Niall O’Dowd and edited by Debbie McGoldrick the community’s beloved source for Irish news will be sadly missed. Well done and well said Niall O’Dowd and all at Irish Central.
This editorial was carried in the final print edition of the paper. t
“The final Irish Voice editorial invokes the message of its first one more than 30 years ago – a united Ireland will become a reality.
In the first issue of the Irish Voice in November 1987, we stated right away that a united Ireland was the only long-term solution to the failed partition of Ireland in 1922, and our stance has not changed.
In fact, there are very few impartial observers who would quibble with the notion that in the intervening 36 years, prospects have never looked brighter than now for Ireland to finally unite.
The demographic reality is what we pointed to in that first issue, and that is now self-evident in the extraordinary growth in the nationalist community to the point that unionism is now in the minority.
There was one other issue that transformed the landscape — the sheer stupidity of the British and their embrace of Brexit.
In a single flourish, they made clear that only English nationalism mattered, and democratic decisions against Brexit by voters in Northern Ireland (and Scotland) carried no weight.
Instead, the Tory government, led by that lying liar Boris Johnson, patently sought to bring down the Brexit structure he had agreed on with the Irish government. Northern Ireland became a pawn in his petty game to stay in power, but the man who wanted to emulate Churchill looked and acted more like Mo in the Three Stooges than Sir Winston.
If there was ever a two-fingered salute from London to Belfast and Dublin, that was delivered on Brexit by the Tory government under Johnson.
The extent of the UK’s Brexit mistake is evident, and a recent poll showed that only 34 percent of British would vote for Brexit if a referendum were held again.
Of course, now that real politics have to happen in restoring the dormant Northern Ireland Assembly, the unionists have once again become like the proverbial ostriches, refusing any and all political initiatives. They act like they still have a majority but it is just another self-delusion.
Our best guess? There will be no Assembly, but a form of joint authority will be imposed by the two governments if they have the cojones.
After a few years of that, a border poll around 2035 will finally deliver the Irish dreamtime of a country reunited. They will say it cannot be done, but they said exactly the same about the peace process. Erin Go Bragh.
Brexit was a huge boon for Irish and Scottish nationalists, and we would wager if we were writing an editorial 36 years from now, it would be under the auspices of a united Ireland.
So in this final editorial of the Irish Voice, it is fitting to discuss the gathering pace for a future united Ireland. It has been the Holy Grail for all Irish nationalists.
But the dream never died for millions of Irish nationalists during that 100 years. Sometimes the flame flickered and almost burned out.
The Troubles are a dim memory for many in the North these days, but at their height, they represented the great turning point in Irish history when nationalism said no.
Today, across Northern Ireland, thousands of Orange Men will be parading for the 12th of July commemorations. But what is the future of the loyal orders?
What is the place of the Orange Order in the 21st Century? Are they just quirky historical relic, or do they have an active role in today’s society?
A few months ago, I got a tour of Clifton St Orange Hall in Belfast as part of the North Belfast Festival. It was fascinating to see inside the building that many of us pass if you are ever on the Westlink. If I remember correctly, the statue of King Billy on the roof is the only horse statue in Northern Ireland.
I was very impressed with our tour guide, who honestly answered every question asked of him; they really should do tours more often as it is a fascinating building.
My granny was from the Shankill, and while I never met my great-grandfather, he may have been a member of the Orange Order and had meetings in this building. Not sure what he thought of his daughter running off with a guy from the Falls. I can’t imagine he was too happy.
Clifton St Orange Hall is frozen in time, like walking into 1920. All the rooms are as they would have been 100 years ago, I suspect the only thing that has changed are the drinks prices in the function hall.
The memorials to the dead of the First World War are pretty extensive and quite touching. WW1 decimated the ranks of Orange Lodge members, and the ghosts of those young men who never came home haunt the very fabric of the building.
I have been thinking a lot about trauma lately. What we went through in the troubles was pretty bad, but WW1 was a different level of slaughter. No PSTD or trauma counselling back then; you just got on with life as best you could. You can see that the various memorials were their way of dealing with the trauma and, dare I say it, an attempt to justify or explain the senseless slaughter of WW1.
I was at a talk the other week by the Orange Order Historian Dr David Hume. It is a measure of how far we have come as a society that there was a talk about the Orange Order in the James Connolly Centre on the Falls Road. Dr Hume was listened to with respect, and he answered all questions honestly and truthfully – it was a model of how to talk about contentious topics with civility and grace.
David put the order in the historical framework of the various fraternal organisations that have existed over the centuries. There are the obvious ones like Freemasons but also the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, the Fraternal Order of Eagles, the Independent Order of Rechabites, the Templars of Honor and Temperance, the Independent Order of Foresters, the Knights of Columbus, and the Loyal Order of Moose. Wikipedia has a whole list of them.
Processions are marches are also standard across many cultures and traditions. From religious processions to trade union marches, they are a part of our social history.
The Orange Order could better communicate what it is about, but I think the problem is they struggle to explain to themselves why they still exist. If you ask them why they do what they do, the most common answer is because their father did it, and their grandfather etc – it’s tradition.
Catholics view the Orange Order as triumphalist and supremacist, only interested in walking where they are not wanted. But like everything in Northern Ireland, the truth is a thousand shades of grey.
Without dialogue and understanding, both sides fill the vacuum with suspicion. I remember being friendly at Queens with a young Orangeman from Portadown. He once said to me – “You lot think we are plotting the downfall of popery, but we are not; we are sitting around arguing about what sandwiches to have on the twelfth!”
As you age, you realise the importance of respecting and understanding other people’s views. I go out of my way on Slugger never to criticise people personally, and I will not lie; it is a struggle as it is a lot easier and more fun to rip into people.
How different would Drumcree have been if both sides had listened to each other respectfully?
But it is easy to look back and wonder what if. Those of us who remember those dark days know that neither side was willing to compromise; we all took sides. We gave into our worst instincts as a society, and the Quinn boys and Michael McGoldrick paid the price.
Despite the attempts of some politicians to reopen old wounds, we are lucky that nearly all parades pass off peacefully today. Most people greet Orange Order parades with a shrug of the shoulders.
To be honest, even after all the talks and tours, I still don’t get the attraction of the Orange Order to people. But that is life – there are many things I don’t understand the appeal of, but millions of people still do them.
Today is likely to be the last parade to the field in Belfast. They plan to shorten the route in future years. The plans are interesting because it shows even with the weight of tradition, things change.
I know from experience the comments will descend into the usual back and forth, but can I ask you to try something different today? Before jumping into the comment box, take a moment to pause and think about why you think the way you do. What is your reaction when you hear the words Orange Order? Are you echoing the views of your parents? Your side? The media? Maybe you don’t care either way. It is fascinating to pause and think about why we believe what we do. But I know you won’t as self-reflection requires work, and it’s easier to just parrot our default positions.
JOE McDONNELL was the fifth Hunger Striker
to die due to the intransigence of British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and
her government.
Born on 14 September 1950, the fifth of
eight children in a family from the Lower Falls in west Belfast, Joe eventually
married and moved to Lenadoon.
Joe volunteered to replace his good friend
and comrade Bobby Sands, who he was captured with on active service in October
1976, joining the hunger strike on 9 May.
A well-known and very popular man in the
Greater Andersonstown area, Joe had a reputation as a quiet and deep-thinking
individual, with a gentle, happy go-lucky personality, who had, nevertheless, a
great sense of humour, was always laughing and playing practical jokes and who,
although withdrawn at times, had the ability to make friends easily.
He had joined the Republican Movement soon
after the introduction of internment without trial in August 1971. He was
himself interned on the prison ship Maidstone in 1972 and in Long Kesh from
1973 to 1974.
Arrested and jailed for a commercial
bombing operation, Joe was sentenced in September 1977 to 14 years’
imprisonment. He joined the Blanket Protest fro the restoration of political
status and was denied visits unless he wore the prison uniform. His wife,
Goretti, and their two children had not seen him in the more than three and a
half years since he was sentenced up until the hunger strike and his dying days.
In June 1981, Joe was a general election candidate
in the Sligo/Leitrim constituency and narrowly missed becoming a TD by 315
votes.
Joe McDonnell died on 8 July 1981 after 61
days on hunger strike.
The death of Joe McDonnell
IRA Volunteer and Hunger Striker Joe
McDonnell, from Lenadoon in west Belfast, passed away at 5:15am on Wednesday 8
July after 61 agonising days on the Hunger Strike. His wife Goretti had
maintained an almost constant vigil by his side but, with a callous act of
disregard for her feelings when he died, the RUC called her in, ostensibly to
identify the body.
From Wednesday evening through to the
Friday morning, Joe’s body had lain in state in the family home. During this
time, thousands of people filed past the coffin to pay their respects to the
fallen Volunteer.
In a reflection of the effect the Hunger
Strike had throughout nationalist Ireland, those filing past came from
throughout the country. There were people from Dublin, Sligo, Leitrim,
Crossmaglen, Tyrone and further afield.
Individuals who paid their respects included
relatives of other Hunger Strikers – Rosaleen Sands, mother of Bobby; and
Pauline McGeown, wife of Pat who was at that time on hunger strike. A
particularly poignant visit was that of Jimmy Dempsey, whose 16-year-old son
John, a member of Fianna Éireann, had been shot dead by a British soldier in
the disturbances following Joe McDonnell’s death. Also present was Joe
McDonnell’s brother Frankie, one of the longest-serving Blanket Men who had
been released for 12 hours to attend the funeral.
It was a measure of the ripple effect that
the Hunger Strike – and more particularly British intransigence and brutality –
were having on the nationalist community that at the same time another Blanket
Man, Tommy Cosgrove, was out on temporary release to attend the funeral of his
sister, Nora McCabe, killed by an RUC plastic bullet, also in the disturbances
following the death of Joe McDonnell.
• Joe McDonnell’s wife Goretti, his
children and his brother Frankie pay their respects
At midday, the coffin was sealed and a
Tricolour and the black beret and gloves of an IRA Volunteer were pinned to it.
With British Army helicopters hovering noisily and provocatively overhead, the
cortege moved off. Led by a lone piper, it made its way to Oliver Plunkett
Church at the top of Lenadoon for Requiem Mass.
After the service the coffin was carried
towards Milltown Cemetery. Joe’s three brothers were among those carrying the
coffin and it was flanked by his wife Goretti and their children Bernadette and
Joseph and other members of the immediate family. When the cortege reached the
Andersonstown Road the coffin was place on trestles and an IRA firing came
forward and rendered a final salute.
After observing a minute’s silence the IRA
firing party disappeared into a nearby garden. A barrage of high-velocity
gunfire was heard as it became obvious that British crown forces were
attempting to kill or capture members of the IRA firing party. Simultaneously,
the British Army and RUC opened up on the cortege with a hail of plastic bullets
amidst scenes of pandemonium and panic. In the assault, one of the mourners (a
brother of then Sinn Féin Vice-President Gerry Adams) was shot and seriously
wounded.
The head of the funeral cortege had moved
on a few minutes before the attack and was making its way towards Milltown. Six
IRA Volunteers took the coffin on their shoulders for the last leg of the
journey to the Republican Plot.
Chairing the graveside proceedings was
Eamon McCory of Sinn Féin. He extended the sympathies of the Republican Movement
to the family and went on to condemn the SDLP and the Dublin Government who had
not applied sufficient political pressure on British Prime Minister Margaret
Thatcher. As a result, Thatcher was claiming that not one responsible person in
Ireland was asking her to concede the prisoners’ 5 demands.
• IRA firing party honour of their comrade Joe McDonnell
After the blessing, conducted by Father
Matthew Wallace, John Joe McGirl, Chairperson of Leitrim County Council and
election agent for Joe McDonnell in the 26-County general election, gave the
oration.
Speaking of the deceased Hunger Striker, he
said:
“He has died rather than debase the cause
he served, rather than live with the forced tag of criminality on him. His
courage is an inspiration, not only to his fellow prisoners, not only to the
Irish people who admire such courage – the world stands in wonder and
admiration, accepting that men such as Joe McDonnell are not criminals but
patriots.”
John Joe McGirl went on to lambast British
policy in Ireland, saying:
“The policy of England and the English
government towards Ireland down through the years has been one of jailing,
shooting and hanging. Today, this week, their policy has changed somewhat. They
have left over hanging and replaced it with the rubber bullet, plastic bullet
and live round.
“Men, women and children are murdered in
the streets of Belfast and Derry and in the occupied part of the north-eastern
Six Counties. I want to say here that the responsibility for this lies with the
British Government, and I say to the British Government that she has no right
in our country and never had, and that the way forward is for her to withdraw
her forces from the occupied part of our country and let the Irish people
resolve their differences themselves.
“She is not here as a friend, she is here
as a treacherous foe, and we recognise her as such.”
In conclusion he said:
“We will build Joe McDonnell a memorial, we
will build so many of his comrades who are buried here a memorial, and their
memorials will be the freedom and the unity of the Irish people.”
Throughout the 26 Counties there were
numerous vigils, reflecting the growing anger of the population, and in the
North (as previously mentioned) two people were killed by crown forces in the
aftermath of Joe’s death.
More worrying for the British was the
continued and growing support abroad.
In the United States there were numerous
protests in New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and San Francisco to name but a
few. There were also many demonstrations in Australia and New Zealand.
In France, lawyers formed a commission
tasked with investigating conditions in the H-Blocks. French parliamentarians
wrote to the Inter-Parliamentary Union in Geneva, asking it to take action in
support of the two newly-elected H-Blocks TDs, Kieran Doherty (Cavan/Monaghan)
and Paddy Agnew (Louth).
In Italy, an incendiary bomb exploded on
the roof of the British Consulate and there were protests and demonstrations in
Belgium and Portugal.
Hemmed in by high mountain ridges, an azure blue sea and cascading mountain streams Bantry Bay is a place of idyllic beauty where the landscape changes with every mood of wind and sky.
Bantry Bay is located in County Cork, Ireland. The bay runs approximately 35 km from northeast to southwest into the Atlantic Ocean.
It boasts a long and colorful history and strong association with the sea. It was used over the centuries as a safe haven for seafarers and was the landing spot for two separate French invasions attempting to free the Irish from British rule, most notably the invasion led by Theobald Wolfe Tone in 1796. Today, a life-sized statue of Wolfe Tone stands at the top of the town square.
Visitors can get a unique insight into Bantry’s interesting past by following the Heritage Trail with information boards erected all around the town. Pop into the Bantry Museum to catch up on local history in the summer months. The Kilnaruane Pillar Stone 3km outside the town is a monument of early Christian times and the town graveyard, once the site of a Franciscan monastery, has a famine cross in memory of the hundreds of victims of the Irish famine.
Bantry House, the home of the former Earls of Bantry has spectacular views overlooking the Bay and is well worth a visit. Built in 1690 it has a collection of tapestries, furniture, and art treasures and the restored gardens are home to subtropical plants and shrubs. Climb the “one hundred steps” at the back of Bantry House to marvel at the awesome view across the Bay.
Bantry Town is a hive of activity with water sports, boating, sailing, rowing, birdwatching, and golf. It is the gateway to Whiddy Island with ferries departing daily from the Pier. Experience the thrill of the sea with a deep-sea angling trip or go for a relaxing day’s fishing at Lough Bofinne.
It is also a hub for walkers with easy access to the Sheep’s Head Way and Beara Way – signposted walking routes. There are shorter local looped walks, one along the stunning seafront promenade. Cyclists are also spoiled for choice with a number of routes.
Bantry Bay – the world-famous son
The song was written in the latter half of the 1800s by James Lynam Molloy from County Offaly, a lawyer who lived most of his life in England and was the composer of many other well-known songs.
Molloy (1838-1909) was born in Cornalaur, not too far from Clara, (the home village of the now-famous golfer, Shane Lowry) he went to school at St Edmund’s, the oldest Catholic school in England, then to the Catholic University in Dublin, in 1855, the year of its opening.
His songs have certainly gladdened the hearts of millions. And yet, today, the man is little remembered in his own country despite being the composer of such enduring songs as Love’s Old Sweet Song, The Kerry Dance, Bantry Bay, and many, many others. ‘Bantry Bay’ is a much loved and cherished Irish song and has been recorded by many famous artists, particularly the iconic Irish Tenor, John McCormack, Frank Patterson and ‘The Irish Tenors.’
