This two-part post explores how the weekly Pittsburgh Catholic newspaper reported—or ignored—two of the most violent episodes in twentieth century Irish history. Both events—in November 1920 in Dublin, and in January 1972 in Londonderry, Northern Ireland—came to be known as “Bloody Sunday.” Pittsburgh, and the Catholic, had strong ties to Ireland through immigration. These two posts are revised from a paper I wrote for the American Journalism Historians Association. I presented a 10-minute overview of the research at AJHA’s annual conference, Oct. 3-5, 2024, in Pittsburgh. READ PART 1. MH
Bloody Sunday, 1972
The Northern Ireland “Troubles,” 1969-1998, began as a civil rights struggle by the province’s Catholic minority, long denied fair access to housing, jobs, and other services by the majority Protestant-led government and business sectors. Many of the discriminatory practices were abolished before the end of the conflict, which renewed Irish republican calls for reunification with the south. Most of the violence occurred within Northern Ireland, but some episodes spilled into the Republic of Ireland and England. More than 3,500 people—civilians, police, sectarian paramilitaries, and the British Army—were killed over the three decades. The 1998 peace deal, brokered with U.S. help, established a new nationalist-unionist power-sharing government in the province and cross-border institutions; renamed and reorganized the police force to integrate more Catholics; and initiated the withdrawal of British troops as paramilitary groups simultaneously decommissioned their weapons.
On Sunday, January 30, 1972, British troops opened fire on an estimated 15,000 people, predominantly Catholics, protesting internment-without-trial in Londonderry, Northern Ireland. (Irish nationalists call the city “Derry.”) The Northern Ireland government had earlier outlawed such mass marches. In an echo of Croke Park in 1920, military officials claimed there was sniper fire from the crowd. Thirteen civilians were killed that day, a fourteenth victim died later.
Thomas O’Neil became editor of the Pittsburgh Catholic in November 1970, 14 months before Bloody Sunday. While his surname certainly suggests Irish heritage, both he and his parents were natives of Pennsylvania. This author did not pursue deeper genealogy. A graduate of Pittsburgh’s Duquesne University, a Catholic institution, O’Neil rose through the ranks of local newspapers, from reporter to religion news and feature editor at the daily Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
By 1972, the Catholic’s circulation had reached 62,150, nearly quadruple the 1920 figure. The reference to Bishop Michael O’Conner under the front-page name plate was now replaced with, “America’s Oldest Catholic Newspaper in Continuous Publication.” There was no editorial page endorsement by the diocesan leader, Bishop Vincent M. Leonard, a Pittsburgh native born to late nineteenth century Irish immigrants. He shepherded 921,000 adherents among a population of 2.3 million—40 percent—in a now smaller six-county territory.
The Catholic began publishing a five-part series of reports about Northern Ireland in its second issue of 1972, three weeks before Bloody Sunday. The series was written by Gerard E. Sherry, managing editor of the Central California Register, the Catholic diocesan paper in Fresno. According to an editor’s note, he had spent most of December 1971 on both sides of the Irish border. What the note didn’t say is that Sherry also was a former British Army major who had emigrated from England in 1949 and become a naturalized U.S. citizen. He had edited four Catholic diocesan newspapers since the mid-1950s, winning nearly four dozen first prizes for editorials, layout, and general excellence. Sherry’s articles were distributed through NC News, a later iteration of the NCWC News Service launched in 1920.
The fourth installment of Sherry’s series appeared inside the February 4, 1972, issue of the Catholic, which featured three front-page stories about Bloody Sunday. There would be no repeat of the paper’s 1920 silence. This time the day-after NC News Service dispatch to its U.S. Catholic newspaper clients contained a 700-word story about the event. This was clearly the foundation of the Catholic’s 40-paragraph lead story, which did not name a news source. The piece quoted a mix of people touched by the event, including Catholic hierarchy, nationalist and unionist politicians, and a British Army major general, who said there was “absolutely no doubt” that his troops were fired upon first. The story noted the march was illegal and it used the official place name of Londonderry.
The Catholic’s first sidebar from the Religion News Service (RNS) noted that the official Vatican Radio expressed “profound grief” about the event. But the story added that Pope Paul VI would need to “tread very gingerly” about any public statements, lest he “rupture relations with Britain and possibly fire up the Catholics in both the North and the South (of Ireland) to new and even more costly bloodshed.” RNS was founded in 1934 by journalist Louis Minsky (1909-1957) as an independent, nonprofit affiliate of the National Conference of Christians and Jews.
The second sidebar was written by William McClinton, the Catholic’s associate editor. It featured an interview with Pittsburgh resident Joseph Clark, who was “just back from Ireland.” Clark was identified as head of the Committee for Peace and Justice for Ireland, founded four months earlier at one of the city’s Catholic churches. He also had been interviewed by the Post-Gazette. McClinton reported Clark as saying that money raised in America, including Pittsburgh, was being funneled to Ireland to pay for guns that perpetuated violence, which otherwise would recede. Clark was not quoted directly in the 12-paragraph story.
Stories and photo about Northern Ireland at top of the jump page, February 11, 1972, issue of the Pittsburgh Catholic. Note Gerard E. Sherry’s byline at top left.
Secular coverage
Many changes occurred in the U.S. media landscape between the two Bloody Sundays. Commercial radio—led by KDKA in Pittsburgh—was just coming on the air in 1920. By 1972, radio newscasts were regularly heard inside homes, businesses, and automobiles. The black-and-white newsreels once viewed by theater audiences were replaced by the color images of network television, which broadcast Northern Ireland violence directly into private homes. And Pittsburgh lost five daily newspapers.
The Press, still owned by Scripps Howard, was Pittsburgh’s only daily surviving from 1920 and still the city’s largest paper. The Post-Gazette was created from the late 1920s merger of other titles. In 1961, the Press and Post-Gazette entered a joint operating agreement. The Post-Gazette published Monday through Saturday mornings; the Press published Monday through Saturday afternoons, and on Sunday mornings.
Bloody Sunday topped the front pages of both papers on January 31, 1972. The Post-Gazette used Associated Press coverage and the Press relied on United Press International. The Press also used Scripps Howard reporting over the coming days. Like the Catholic, the Press bolstered its coverage of developments with a four-part background series, “Ireland in Torment,” which began the week after Bloody Sunday. The first three installments were written by UPI’s Donal O’Higgins, a Republic of Ireland native who had been with the wire service since 1946 and reported the earliest clashes of the Troubles. Joseph W. Grigg, UPI’s chief European correspondent, wrote the concluding story.
The series focused on contemporary events leading to Bloody Sunday but also acknowledged key episodes in the long history of animosity between Catholics and Protestants, nationalists and unionists, in Ireland, including the early twentieth century revolutionary period. “Ever since a separate Northern Ireland state was set up in 1920 by an act of the British Parliament, (Catholics) have felt themselves to be arbitrarily cut off from their coreligionists in the south; to be second class citizens in a state where the Protestant majority wielded virtually exclusive power.” The series did not mention the November 1920 Bloody Sunday. Grigg made the contemporary situation instantly relatable to U.S. readers: “Northern Ireland has become Britain’s Vietnam.”
Catholics and the IRA were framed by modifiers such as “militants” and “terrorists,” respectively, throughout the coverage. Such adjectives were rarely applied to the British Army or Protestant paramilitaries. For example: “The death toll was the worst in more than three years of communal strife pitting Roman Catholic militants against Protestants and the British soldiers sent to restore order in Ulster.” Bernadette Devlin was introduced in the fourth paragraph of a UPI story as a “Catholic militant” but not identified as a member of the British Parliament until the thirteenth paragraph. In the NC News Service/Catholic story, Devlin is identified as an MP on first reference, and never as a militant. O’Higgins described the Ulster Volunteer Force, which participated in illegal and violent actions, like the IRA, as a “well-equipped Protestant fighting force.”
On the other hand, the secular coverage of 1972 was generally less deferential to the British military and government than in 1920. It quoted Irish Catholic nationalists, such as Devlin, in addition to church officials. And it included American sources, such as U.S. Secretary of State William P. Rogers.
Unlike the first Bloody Sunday, the Press in 1972 quickly weighed in with an editorial about the bloodshed. “Another Irish Tragedy” suggested three possible solutions: give Catholics “full civil and economic rights”; draw new border lines with Catholic areas incorporated into the Republic of Ireland; or end partition entirely, reunite the island, and encourage Protestants “who could not bear living in a Catholic-dominated Ireland” to emigrate to Britain, America, or elsewhere.
On the same page, an editorial cartoon headlined “Murderer!” showed an IRA gunman and British soldier with weapons pointed at each other as they stood over several dead bodies. In the background, a sign atop a hotel was labeled with the double-entendre, “The Ulster Arms.” The 1972 reports included more news photographs than in 1920, when access to images was still very limited. Efforts to encourage Washington to help end Irish violence also quickly became part of the ongoing coverage.
Pittsburgh Press, Feb. 1, 1972.
Catholic’s next issue
The Catholic continued its Bloody Sunday coverage the following week. A front-page piece by RNS described the New York City press conference of Father Edward Daly, the Catholic priest who “became famous overnight after a BBC television camera pictured him standing over a dying youth waving a blood-stained handkerchief at British troops.” Fifty-two years later, the video and photos of Daly (1933-2016) remain an iconic image of Bloody Sunday. He called the attack by British troops “complete and unprovoked murder.”
Daly’s observations were corroborated by the American journalist Gail Sheehy (1936-2020), then a correspondent for New York Magazine, four years before she became famous with her book, Passages. Sheehy had family ties to Northern Ireland and had gone there to report on the role of women in the Catholic civil rights movement. She told the press conference she witnessed four marchers being killed but did not see any civilian shooters.
A second RNS story inside the Catholic reported that Cardinal Terence Cooke of New York City had called for civil rights reform in Northern Ireland and launched an emergency relief fund for the region. An op-ed by Monsignor Charles Owen Rice of the Pittsburgh diocese, vice-president of Clark’s Peace and Justice for Ireland committee, suggested the Irish diaspora in American had been “uninvolved” in the Northern Ireland crisis until Bloody Sunday. “Now it is changed, changed almost as utterly as it was fifty years ago,” he wrote, a paraphrase of the William Butler Yeats poem about the earlier revolutionary period.
Rice suggested that the “Derry massacre” (he did not use the full Londonderry name throughout his column) “invites comparison with our Kent State” University, a reference to the May 4, 1970, shooting death of four student protestors by the Ohio National Guard. “In a way Kent State was worse because it was fratricidal. American killing American, but on the other hand, the Kent State killers were unseasoned National Guardsmen not disciplined regular soldiers, whereas, the British paratroopers are the most professional and reliable that England has.” The British Army’s tactics, Rice concluded “make new friends and recruits for the IRA and push peace further and further back.”
The final installment of Sherry’s series reported on the Compton Report, a November 1971 government enquiry that detailed British military brutality against Northern Ireland citizens and prisoners. The story was packaged with a photo from a post-Bloody Sunday protest in Newry, Northern Ireland. “Thousands of Roman Catholics march silently through the street here,” the caption said. Another NC News brief reported that Pope Paul had indeed made a statement about Northern Ireland, delivered from the balcony of the papal apartment to the crowds in St. Peter’s Square. “We desire that any form of violence be avoided by the parties concerned …” he said in Italian, then added, in English, “from any side.”
As if to underscore Catholic Pittsburgh’s historical ties to Ireland, this issue of the Catholic also contained a nearly full-page (five of six columns) advertisement promoting the sale of the “First Annual St. Patrick’s Day Medal,” which commemorated the 432 A.D. arrival of Ireland’s patron saint. The medals, “made of pure Irish silver,” were produced in America by the Franklin Mint and sold for $15 each. This appears to have been strictly a commercial venture, as no church or charitable causes are mentioned. Irish leader Jack Lynch endorsed the enterprise as “a worthy memento of the homeland which they can always cherish.”
An iconic image of Dr. Edward Daly, bent over at right, on Bloody Sunday in January 1972.
Conclusions
The Pittsburgh Catholic’s support of Irish nationalism and the Catholic clergy and other coreligionists is hardly surprising, given the paper’s history and readership. Despite the strong affinity, however, the paper’s main editorial mission was not to provide news about Ireland, either in 1920 or in 1972. But the Catholic’s mission to cover the Catholic faith left wide discretion about what did or did not appear on its pages.
The first Bloody Sunday was not cast as a sectarian attack by either the Catholic or secular press. Even Cardinal Logue did not suggest a religious dynamic to the violence of that day. The lack of a clear Catholic element could be why the Pittsburgh Catholic and the NCWC avoided the story, even as other Catholic press reported it. Errors in sectarian and secular press accounts demonstrated the challenges of verifying overseas news, especially an event as chaotic as Bloody Sunday. As an NCWC story published in the Catholic a few weeks later put it, reporting Irish news was “somewhat risky for any journalist” … since “more often than not by the time the words are read in America a new and appalling blunder had been committed …”
But the weeks-long absence of Bloody Sunday news in the Catholic remains troubling for a journalism enterprise that claimed to be “in service to the cause of truth and morality.” Whether editor Smith or Bishop Canevin made the decision, either from caution or another reason, the Catholic’s initial avoidance of the Dublin bloodshed came undone once it reported the cardinal’s letter. By then the paper had missed the opportunity to make its own editorial statement about the event, as it had done many times previously regarding Ireland. It could have criticized the assassinations, as the cardinal did. Or it could have argued that the IRA’s killing of military personnel, compared to the military’s attacks on civilians, was justified by centuries of religious and political persecution. Either way, the Catholic then could have focused attention on the stadium slaughter.
The second Bloody Sunday was more clearly sectarian. And it was easier for the Catholic to report since the military action was not prompted by an initial Irish attack. In 2010, a U.K. government inquiry of the event—the second since 1972—ruled the British Army not only had fired the first shot, but also had fired on fleeing, unarmed civilians. British Prime Minister David Cameron, in a public apology, said the civilian deaths were “unjustified and unjustifiable.”
The Catholic’s coverage in 1972 was more aligned with the standards of contemporary journalism. It holds up on inspection more than 50 years later. The news stories did not shy from quoting sources that conflicted with the paper’s prevailing pro-Irish Catholic views. Through the Pittsburgh peace activist, it alerted readers that their money might contribute to nationalist violence in Northern Ireland. Yet the coverage leaves no reason for the Catholic’s readers to doubt the paper’s support for its Irish coreligionists.
Sensitivity to nineteenth century anti-Catholic and nativist forces in the United States are prominent in the Catholic’s pages from the time of the first Bloody Sunday. These threats would flare again during the 1920s. That bigotry had receded, but not vanished, by the second Bloody Sunday, as often symbolized by the election of John F. Kennedy as the first Catholic elected U.S. president. But some cohort of the faithful were almost always being oppressed or in danger somewhere in the world, including Ireland, and thus relevant to the Catholic’s readers.
The Catholic avoided sectarian finger pointing during both Bloody Sundays. Protestants were not the enemy as much as the British Army and government. As Sherry explained in the first installment of his 1972 series: “While on the surface the problem appears to be a Catholic-Protestant conflict, its roots are not religious but political and economic. The Catholic minority is not fighting for religious liberty, but for equal political representation, equal opportunity in employment and housing, and an end to military harassment.”
The research discussed in this project could be expanded to include how the Pittsburgh Catholic and other sectarian newspapers, both Catholic and Protestant, covered the entirety of either or both twentieth-century conflicts in Ireland. Exploring how that coverage compared with the secular press provides important context. How media outlets with stated religious or nationalist identities cover violent conflicts remains relevant today, as seen with the Israel-Hamas War. The original paper was submitted to AJHA in late May 2024, not long after Israeli officials ordered the Arab network Al Jazeera to leave the Jewish state.
A final note: the Pittsburgh Catholic weekly ceased publication in March 2020—one hundred and seventy-six years after its first issue—due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It resumed online-only operations later that year. As of 2024, the Catholic existed as a bimonthly print and digital magazine under the auspices of the Pittsburgh diocese.
In April I presented “The American Press and the Irish Revolution” at the American Irish Historical Society in New York City. The one-hour talk highlighted my ongoing research on this topic. In October I presented my paper, “Ireland’s ‘Bloody Sundays’ and The Pittsburgh Catholic, 1920 & 1972,” at the American Journalism Historians Association’s annual conference in Pittsburgh, my native city. This paper and my other work are found in the American Reporting of Irish Independence section.
