Shining a light on Wicklow’s history
REPORTER DAVID MEDCALF SAT DOWN FOR A GOOD READ WITH THE LATEST JOURNAL FROM WICKLOW HISTORICAL SOCIETY. HE ALSO HAD A WORD WITH JOHN FINLAY, THE ONLY PERSON TO HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO EVERY EDITION SO FAR
THE value is remarkable. A fiver is all that the Wicklow Historical Society charges for the latest edition of its esteemed journal. The 144-page publication is the 33rd in the annual series which stretches back to 1987. Over the years, the journal has consistently championed and stimulated interest in all things Wicklow past.
That’s Wicklow as in Wicklow Town rather than Wicklow as in County Wicklow, though the net is occasionally spread as far afield as Rathdrum and sometimes strays into Arklow. The current edition includes illustrations from distant London and Belfast along with all the local stuff, just to show that there is no narrow parochial mind-set at work here. The text even goes so far as to make passing mention of far-off places such as Aughrim and Donard.
Topics investigated range across the spectrum from deaths at sea to the politics of railways, from Treaty negotiations to the Sacred Heart sodality of 1875. Society chairman John Finlay reckons that, though it is always a struggle to come up with relevant pictures, there will never be a shortage of topics for local historians.
His main problem at the moment is that he has been denied his regular visits to the public library at the Boghall Road in Bray to read over back numbers of the newspapers. Old copies of the ‘Wicklow People’ (founded in 1887) and its long-time rival the ‘Wicklow News-Letter’ (first appeared in 1857) are held there in microfiche form for all to read. He has made a habit of calling each Wednesday to see what set tongues wagging back in the old days, 10 decades ago.
The result of his dedicated and sustained curiosity is that each new journal contains a piece on ‘Life in Wicklow a Century Ago’ drawn from the press reports. The current article in edition number 33 puts the spotlight on the troubled time of 1920. There are several references to how the police found themselves in the front line as the move to shake off rule by London gained momentum.
In January of the year in question, two members of the force – Constables Amylin and Bellew – were injured by gunfire in an attack on the police station in Baltinglass. As raids on stations by republicans looking for arms became more common, country barracks such as those in Newtownmountkennedy and Enniskerry were closed and officers withdrew to the bigger towns.
Vacated stations in Laragh, Aughrim, Donard and Knockananna were among hundreds destroyed by republican fire or explosive throughout the country in April, with Redcross following in May. The barracks in Arklow was bombed three times in the space of a month, the explosion on the night of May 22 waking up the town and breaking windows in neighbouring properties. The force was under such pressure and unable to provide security for polling stations and ballot boxes during June’s county council elections.
John Finlay points out that the majority of RIC members were Roman Catholic. They found themselves in 1920 caught in the middle between a British state increasingly out of touch with Irish sentiment and a republican movement of
growing ruthlessness. He would have had no problem with a commemoration of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, though Government proposals to do this were abandoned. The chorus of opposition which lumped the RIC in with the scurrilous Black and Tans was not fair or historically accurate, Finlay implies.
The look back 100 years also includes a recap of how local election results marked a huge change in popular sentiment. Where the outgoing Town Council in Wicklow had five Unionist members, only one – David Haskins in the Abbey Ward – survived the swing to nationalism. The breakdown of the 21 seats was Labour eight, Sinn Féin seven, independents/nationalists four, Unionist one and Comrades of the Great War one. The most popular politician of the lot was James Everett who took seats in two wards for Labour at the start of a hugely influential career which later took him to the Dáil and a seat at Cabinet.
In a rush of patriotic enthusiasm, a majority of the freshly elected councillors voted for a programme of wholesale change to the town’s streetscape. The plan was to wipe out reminders of the Big House, West Brit establishment as represented by the names of the principal thoroughfares. They wanted rid of gentrified references such as Fitzwilliam Road, Leitrim Place and Wentworth Place, to be replaced with St Brigid’s Road, Plunkett Place and Patrick
Pearse Place.
It was a noble experiment but a complete washout as New Street continues to be known to this day as New Street rather than as Parnell Parade. And Coates Lane remains an address into the new millennium rather than Mallin Street, while Bachelor’s Walk is still Bachelor’s Walk and not Con Colbert Parade.
The exercise revealed a creative streak among the elected members, who suggested Gallows Lane as an alternative to Rockey Road. Perhaps it was conservatism which impelled the folk of the town to continue using the names they had always used. However, John Finlay has suggested an alternative explanation for why things remained as they were.
He reckoned that the council did not have the money for cast iron street signs to advertise the revised names and his research has uncovered no expenditure for any such signs. He was confident of his theory until a visitor pointed out to him that there was, in fact, a sign in Market Square signalling the 1920 alternative – Cearnóg Uí Bhroin (O’Byrne Square) …
Another long-time contributor is Stan O’Reilly who has chipped in this time with several short pieces. They include an examination of local folklore, with some thoughts on the career of a warrior prince called Naoi, immortalised in the name Rathnew – the rath of Naoi. Stan also reviews the murder of Eliza Moore in 1884 at her home near Rathdrum, her body left with horrendous head wounds.
The crime resulted in the conviction of ex-soldier, tramp and ruffian James Tobin who was hanged after a jury trial. It was reported that the condemned killer ate half a pound of cheese and a pound of bread washed down by a pint of beer the night before his execution.
Among younger writers coming through the ranks are Ben Fagan and John Goodman, keen delvers into the early 20th century. Other articles were filed by Vincent O’Reilly and Tom Byrne.
The journal goes back in time as far as early Christian times and as recent as the fire of 1990 caused by the explosion of a tank of diesel at the rear of O’Connor’s public house.
Surely the most distinguished contributor of the lot is Ken Hannigan, formerly archivist at the Public Records Office and a formidable researcher.
His piece on the connections of writer James Joyce and his friends to Wicklow has no less than 99 footnote references to back up his writing. The article entitled ‘Up in His Hat’ was inspired by a meeting with the late Mick Fogarty of Carrigmore near Kilmacurragh. During the 1990s, Ken toured the countryside with Father James Murphy, parish priest of Barndarrig, seeking to collect the reminiscences of older residents.
When they called one day in 1993 to Mick Fogarty, he showed them a hat which had belonged to the author and also a book written by Joyce’s colleague John Francis Byrne. Years later, Ken travelled to the United States in order to examine relevant documents held in the Joyce collection at the University of Texas.
‘ That’s how thorough he is – setting off to the far side of the world. Ken’s articles are always top notch,’ observes John Finlay of his star contributor.
‘We are very proud of the standard,’ says chairperson John of the journal which has expanded in size and improved in content since the early days.
Though Covid has put a stop for now to his access to the press files in the library in Bray, he reveals that he is already close to having enough material in the bag to make his contribution to edition number 34.
He looks forward to the day – possibly sometime next year? – when much of the material which feeds his expeditions into the past will be close at hand.
The conversion of the former Ulster Bank premises with its five storeys to become his home town’s public library promises to open more archive material to curious researchers. There is plenty of material for future journals.