Tag Archives: Bloody Sunday

Ireland’s ‘Bloody Sundays’ and The Pittsburgh Catholic, Part 2

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.[1]Birthplaces from National Archives at Washington, DC; Washington, D.C.; Seventeenth Census of the United States, 1950; Year: 1950; Census Place: Arnold, Westmoreland, Pennsylvania; Roll: 399; … Continue reading

By 1972, the Catholic’s circulation had reached 62,150, nearly quadruple the 1920 figure.[2]Ayer Directory of Publications, 1972. [Philadelphia: Ayer Press, 1972], 992. Six other religious papers were published in Pittsburgh, mostly monthlies, each with circulations of less the 2,000. 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.[3]Year: 1920; Census Place: Pittsburgh Ward 3, Allegheny, Pennsylvania; Roll: T625_1519; Page: 7A; Enumeration District: 357. He shepherded 921,000 adherents among a population of 2.3 million—40 percent—in a now smaller six-county territory.[4]Official Catholic Directory. [New York, N.Y.: P.J. Kenedy and Sons, 1972]. 662. In 1951, four counties of the Pittsburgh diocese were removed to form the new Diocese of Greensburg, Pa.

The Catholic began publishing a five-part series of reports about Northern Ireland in its second issue of 1972, three weeks before Bloody Sunday.[5]“Ulster violence: how it all came about”, January 14, 1972; “Day and night difference between Dublin, Belfast”, January 21, 1970; “How Northern Ireland Protestants view the situation”, … Continue reading 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.[6]“New Catholic Monitor Editor Revamps Paper”, The Oakland (Calif.) Tribune, August 20, 1972. 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.[7]“Cardinal Calls For Impartial Inquiry Of Londonderry Slayings” NC New Service, January 31, 1972. 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.[8]“‘Impartial Inquiry’ Sought In Londonderry Slaying”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972.

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.”[9]“Strong Papal Statement Expected”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972. RNS was founded in 1934 by journalist Louis Minsky (1909-1957) as an independent, nonprofit affiliate of the National Conference of Christians and Jews.[10]From “About RNS”.

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.[11]“Peace Plan For Ireland”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Sept. 22, 1971. “U.S. Concern Over Irish Woes Urged”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, November 1, 1971. 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.[12]“American Funds Are Buying Irish Guns”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972.

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.[13]“13 Slain at Rally in Ulster”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 31, 1972. “Irish Catholics Riot, Strike After British Troops Kill 13”, Pittsburgh Press, January 31, 1972. 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.[14]“Irish Cheer For British Turns To Curse”, February 6, 1972; “Catholics’ Drive For Civil Rights Detours Into Guerilla Warfare”, February 7. 1972; “Orangemen Vow To Fight If Independence … Continue reading 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.[15]“Donal O’Higgins, for 37 years a correspondent and editor…” Online obituary from UPI. 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.”[16]“Catholics’ Drive …”, Pittsburgh Press, February 7, 1972. 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.”[17]“Internment Without Trial …”, Pittsburgh Press, February 9, 1972.

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.”[18]“13 Slain…”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 31, 1972 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.[19]“Tense Ulster Fears New Riots”, Pittsburgh Press, February 1, 1972. 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.”[20]“Orangemen Vow…”, Pittsburgh Press, February 8, 1972.

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.[21]“Another Irish Tragedy”, Pittsburgh Press, February 1, 1972.

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[22] RNS used the Irish forename Eamon, but Edward was more common. He became a bishop in 1974., 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.”[23]“‘Unprovoked murder,’ priest charges”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.

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.[24]See Sheehy, Gail, Daring: My Passages. [New York: William Marrow/Harper Collins, 2014]. 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.[25]“Card. Cooke launches Irish emergency fund”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972. 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.[26]“Irish Are Aroused”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972. “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.[27]“All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.” From “Easter, 1916”.

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.”[28]“Internment in Ulster…”, “March Through Newry”, and “Avoid violence from any side, Pope advises”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.

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.”[29]“Orders For The First Annual St. Patrick’s Day Medal Must Be Postmarked By February 17, 1972.” Advertisement in Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.

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 …”[30]“Irish Bishops’ Suggestion Finds Favor In England”, Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, December 13, 1920. Same headline, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 16, 1920.

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.[31]The Catholic editorialized about British violence against the Irish in July 1914, April 1916, and September 1920. See my “‘Luminous In Its Presentation’: The Pittsburgh Catholic and … Continue reading 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.”[32]See the Saville Inquiry, issued June 15, 2010. Cameron’s statement made the same day.

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.”[33]“Ulster violence …”, Pittsburgh Catholic, January 14, 1972.

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.

References

References
1 Birthplaces from National Archives at Washington, DC; Washington, D.C.; Seventeenth Census of the United States, 1950; Year: 1950; Census Place: Arnold, Westmoreland, Pennsylvania; Roll: 399; Page: 7; Enumeration District: 65-17; career from “O’Neil Named Editor Of Pittsburgh Catholic”, Pittsburgh Catholic, October 23, 1970.
2 Ayer Directory of Publications, 1972. [Philadelphia: Ayer Press, 1972], 992. Six other religious papers were published in Pittsburgh, mostly monthlies, each with circulations of less the 2,000.
3 Year: 1920; Census Place: Pittsburgh Ward 3, Allegheny, Pennsylvania; Roll: T625_1519; Page: 7A; Enumeration District: 357.
4 Official Catholic Directory. [New York, N.Y.: P.J. Kenedy and Sons, 1972]. 662. In 1951, four counties of the Pittsburgh diocese were removed to form the new Diocese of Greensburg, Pa.
5 “Ulster violence: how it all came about”, January 14, 1972; “Day and night difference between Dublin, Belfast”, January 21, 1970; “How Northern Ireland Protestants view the situation”, January 28, 1972; “Militant wing of IRA pledges a united republic”, February 4, 1972; “Internment in Ulster—charges and countercharges”, February 11, 1972.
6 “New Catholic Monitor Editor Revamps Paper”, The Oakland (Calif.) Tribune, August 20, 1972.
7 “Cardinal Calls For Impartial Inquiry Of Londonderry Slayings” NC New Service, January 31, 1972.
8 “‘Impartial Inquiry’ Sought In Londonderry Slaying”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972.
9 “Strong Papal Statement Expected”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972.
10 From “About RNS”.
11 “Peace Plan For Ireland”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Sept. 22, 1971. “U.S. Concern Over Irish Woes Urged”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, November 1, 1971.
12 “American Funds Are Buying Irish Guns”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 4, 1972.
13 “13 Slain at Rally in Ulster”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 31, 1972. “Irish Catholics Riot, Strike After British Troops Kill 13”, Pittsburgh Press, January 31, 1972.
14 “Irish Cheer For British Turns To Curse”, February 6, 1972; “Catholics’ Drive For Civil Rights Detours Into Guerilla Warfare”, February 7. 1972; “Orangemen Vow To Fight If Independence Threatened”, February 8, 1972; and “Internment Without Trial Shatters British Commitment To Keep Ulster”, February 9, 1972.
15 “Donal O’Higgins, for 37 years a correspondent and editor…” Online obituary from UPI.
16 “Catholics’ Drive …”, Pittsburgh Press, February 7, 1972.
17 “Internment Without Trial …”, Pittsburgh Press, February 9, 1972.
18 “13 Slain…”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, January 31, 1972
19 “Tense Ulster Fears New Riots”, Pittsburgh Press, February 1, 1972.
20 “Orangemen Vow…”, Pittsburgh Press, February 8, 1972.
21 “Another Irish Tragedy”, Pittsburgh Press, February 1, 1972.
22 RNS used the Irish forename Eamon, but Edward was more common. He became a bishop in 1974.
23 “‘Unprovoked murder,’ priest charges”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.
24 See Sheehy, Gail, Daring: My Passages. [New York: William Marrow/Harper Collins, 2014].
25 “Card. Cooke launches Irish emergency fund”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.
26 “Irish Are Aroused”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.
27 “All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.” From “Easter, 1916”.
28 “Internment in Ulster…”, “March Through Newry”, and “Avoid violence from any side, Pope advises”, Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.
29 “Orders For The First Annual St. Patrick’s Day Medal Must Be Postmarked By February 17, 1972.” Advertisement in Pittsburgh Catholic, February 11, 1972.
30 “Irish Bishops’ Suggestion Finds Favor In England”, Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, December 13, 1920. Same headline, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 16, 1920.
31 The Catholic editorialized about British violence against the Irish in July 1914, April 1916, and September 1920. See my “‘Luminous In Its Presentation’: The Pittsburgh Catholic and Revolutionary Ireland, 1912-1923” in Gathered Fragments, Catholic Historical Society of Western Pennsylvania, Vol. XXXII, Fall 2022, 4-19.
32 See the Saville Inquiry, issued June 15, 2010. Cameron’s statement made the same day.
33 “Ulster violence …”, Pittsburgh Catholic, January 14, 1972.

Ireland’s ‘Bloody Sundays’ and The Pittsburgh Catholic, Part 1

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.”[1]Several violent episodes in history have been described as “Bloody Sunday,” including the March 7, 1965, attack by police authorities on predominantly Black civil rights marchers in Selma, … Continue reading 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 short overview of the research at AJHA’s annual conference, Oct. 3-5, 2024, in Pittsburgh. MH

Introduction

Pittsburgh has deep Irish roots.[2]Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, which includes Pittsburgh, ranked seventh in the nation for “counties with highest population of Irish ancestry,” per 2022 American Community Survey, U.S. Census … Continue reading Irish Presbyterians, primarily from the province of Ulster, today’s Northern Ireland, began to arrive in the western Pennsylvania outpost during the eighteenth century. The Great Famine of the mid-nineteenth century drove large numbers of Irish Catholics to what was becoming a growing industrial city.[3]See O’Neil, Gerard F., Pittsburgh Irish: Erin on the Three Rivers. [Charleston, S.C: The History Press, 2015]. In 1914, a ground-breaking sociological study of Pittsburgh observed, “here the old Irish cleavage has been repeated in the two strong religious elements in the community life.”[4]Woods, Robert A., “Pittsburgh: An Interpretation Of Its Growth” in The Pittsburgh Survey, Findings in Six Volumes, edited by Paul Underwood Kellogg. [New York: Survey Associates Inc., 1914] 9. These sectarian differences were simultaneously aggravated by the transatlantic debate over whether Ireland should maintain its 1800 political union with the United Kingdom, as favored by most Irish Protestants, or pursue the nationalist desires of many Irish Catholics.

Pittsburgh was the sixth largest Irish hub in the United States in the first quarter of the twentieth century. The Irish ranked fifth largest among the city’s immigrant groups, while their American-born children were second among those with at least one foreign-born parent.[5]1920 U.S. Census. Table 13: “Country of Birth of the Foreign-Born White, For Cities of 100,000 or More”, 50. Table 65, “Number and Per Cent of Native White Population of Foreign or Mixed … Continue reading As Pittsburgh’s Irish immigrant population decreased over the next half century, the cohort of their offspring grew and developed a new Irish American identify.

Michael O’Connor, a native of Cork, Ireland, became the first bishop of the new Catholic diocese of western Pennsylvania in 1843. Within a year he established the Pittsburgh Catholic newspaper. An unsigned editorial in the first issue stated the paper’s mission to serve the Catholic faith, “to expound and defend its doctrines, to impart information regarding its history and development, and in general to give every information in our power regarding its condition in our own and in other countries.” (My emphasis.) The editorial—published on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day—also declared: “As it will be gratifying to a great body of our readers, we will endeavor to give copious extracts from journals and private communications regarding the affairs in Ireland.”[6]“The Pittsburgh Catholic”, Pittsburgh Catholic, March 16, 1844.

The U.S. Catholic press that emerged in the mid-nineteenth century was preceded and influenced by Irish journals. In addition to informing immigrant readers about their new country, these journals detailed Irish agitation against British political rule and the suppression of Catholics. “Although these papers were not distinctly Catholic in purpose, their sympathetic tone toward those of the ancient faith merits a place for them in any description of Catholic journalism,” wrote Rev. Paul J. Foik, a Catholic priest, historian, and director of the Notre Dame University library from 1912 to 1924.[7]Foik, Paul J., “Pioneer Efforts in Catholic Journalism in the United States (1809-1840)” in The Catholic Historical Review, Vol.  1, No.  3, October 1915, 258–70.

By the early twentieth century, the Irish and Catholic press in the U.S., “particularly the latter,” exerted significant influence on its readership, historian Thomas Rowland has noted. “In an age without radio and television, Catholic newspapers joined the popular press in serving as windows on the world for the Irish community, presenting a glimpse of things beyond the borders of one’s own parish. Consequently, these papers expressed attitudes and opinions that went virtually uncontested by any other source readily available to the Irish American community.”[8]Rowland, Thomas Joseph, Patriotism is a Catholic Virtue: Irish-American Catholics and the Church in the Era of the Great War, 1900-1918. [Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, … Continue reading

This post explores how the Pittsburgh Catholic reported 1920 and 1972 “Bloody Sunday” events in Ireland. The earlier episode remains an “emotive subject,” historian David Leeson wrote in 2003, “because it brings to mind another Bloody Sunday fifty-two years later.”[9]Leeson, David, “Death in the Afternoon: The Croke Park Massacre, 21 November 1920,” Canadian Journal of History, April 2003. 43-67. It is appropriate to consider how the Catholic covered these two events due to the paper’s ties to Ireland, and because Ireland and Catholicism were so intertwined in the twentieth century. Having the religion’s sabbath day twice stained by the same adjective makes the pairing even more poignant.

My research focused on November 25, and December 2, 1920, issues of the Catholic, when the paper was published on Thursdays, and February 4 and 11, 1972, when it appeared on Fridays. The Catholic’s archive was viewed through Duquesne University’s Gumberg Library Digital Collection. Coverage of the two events in Pittsburgh’s daily papers and the wider Catholic press was also reviewed through the Newspapers.com and Catholic News Archive websites. Manual page reviews and key word searches were used to assess news sources, editorial opinions, and efforts to connect the events in Ireland to local readers. The surrounding page content was also reviewed for context.

Details of the 1920 Bloody Sunday follow below the graphic. The 1972 event is covered in the second post.

Graphic compiled by Mark Holan, 2024

Bloody Sunday, 1920

Irish resentment of English rule dated back seven centuries. King Henry VIII’s sixteenth century break from the Roman Catholic Church and declaration as the king of Ireland is a significant episode in the troubled history between the neighboring islands. Another was the 1690 defeat of deposed Catholic King James II by the Protestant King William III near Ireland’s River Boyne; an event still celebrated every July by Irish Protestants. The 1800 political union with Great Britain sparked several failed risings in Ireland through the nineteenth century. “Political violence is an ineradicable theme of modern Irish history,” historian Marc Mulholland has observed.[10]Mulholland, Mark, “Political Violence” in The Princeton History of Modern Ireland, Richard Bourke and Ian McBride, eds. [Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 2016] 382.

By the eve of the First World War, Irish nationalists renewed their periodic effort to secure domestic autonomy within the union, called home rule. It was largely, but not exclusively, supported by the Catholic majority in Ireland’s three southern provinces. As pro-union Protestants in Ulster opposed the change, moderate Irish nationalism yielded to the physical force republicanism of the separatist Sinn Féin[11]“We Ourselves.”  The Irish fada used on “Féin” except where quoted from newspapers that did not use it. party. Ireland’s ancient sectarian division, industrial-age labor unrest, and protests over military service on the continent underscored the ensuing political violence. The Irish war of independence, 1919-1921, resulted in the preliminary foundation of today’s 26-county Republic of Ireland and partition of the six-county Northern Ireland, which remains part of the U.K.

The first Bloody Sunday was a pivotal event of the Irish war. In the early morning hours of November 21, 1920, Irish rebels assassinated 14 British intelligence officers in Dublin as they slept or dressed in their houses or hotel rooms. A fifteenth man died later, and three others survived their gunshot wounds. The operation was designed to disrupt the network of spies and informers the military had established to thwart the guerilla tactics of the Irish Republican Army (IRA). Later that afternoon, members of the British Army and Royal Irish Constabulary opened fire at a Gaelic football match at Dublin’s Croke Park, killing 13 spectators and one player. From four dozen to eight dozen other people were injured.[12]Dorney, John, “Bloody Sunday 1920 Revisited”, The Irish Story, November 21, 2020. Michael Foley, The Bloodied Field: Croke Park. Sunday 21 November 1920. [Dublin, The O’Brien Press, 2014]

News of the bloodshed reached the front pages of Pittsburgh newspapers the next day. The morning Post declared:

November 22, 1920

Seven general-interest dailies were published in the city at the time. The locally-owned Pittsburgh Press claimed the largest circulation at 116,000 weekdays, slightly less on Sundays.[13]N.W. Ayer & Son’s American Newspaper Annual & Directory, 1920 (in two volumes), [Philadelphia: N.W. Ayer & Son’s, 1920], 864. The evening paper published a United Press story that described the Sinn Féin “murder raids” as followed by a “counter-attack of police” at Croke Park. The stadium deaths were blamed on “panic … precipitated when Sinn Fein pickets (soldiers) opened fire on police.”[14]“Martial Law Rules Dublin After ‘Red’ Sunday; Troops Alert”, Pittsburgh Press, November 22, 1920.

In the following days, the Press also used Irish coverage from the Hearst-operated International News Service (INS). Correspondent Earle C. Reeves, a 30-year-old Indiana native who became INS’s London bureau manager during the First World War,[15]“Earle C. Reeves, Writer, Dies”, The Indianapolis Star, January 25, 1962, and other newspaper obituaries. described the IRA as “Irish terrorists.”[16]“Precautions More Drastic Than Any Taken In War Time”, Pittsburgh Press, November 28, 1920. “British Cabinet Plans To Protect Officials”, Pittsburgh Press, November 29, 1920. Uses “Irish … Continue reading More often papers used the term “murder gang,” usually attributed to Chief Secretary for Ireland Sir Hamar Greenwood and other British government and military officials. A few months later, after the combatants declared a truce and opened negotiations to end the war, the Press editorialized that “murder gang” was no longer viable as a “propaganda denunciation of the Irish Republican Army.”[17]“One Trap Lloyd George Fell Into”, Pittsburgh Press, July 27, 1921.

Pittsburgh newspaper reports were deferential to the established government, ally in the late First World War. Most of the wire services attributed details to “Irish office authorities,” a reference to the U.K. government administration at Dublin Castle, or “the government version” of events. Some information was sourced to London newspapers.

The Press did not include any comment from Sinn Féin officials, or from the Irish Bulletin, official organ of the provisional Irish Republic. The evening paper made no editorial comment about the event within two weeks. National columnist Authur Brisbane (1864-1936) mentioned the Irish situation several times in his regular “Today” column, which the Press published on its front pages. “A hundred other peoples have settled down comfortably under the yoke,” he wrote three days after Bloody Sunday. “The Irish never settle down, insisting ‘We will be free.’”[18]Arthur Brisbane, “Today”, Pittsburgh Press, November 24, 1920. In another column, Brisbane noted the “suffering and terror of poor people, guilty of no offense against anybody,” who paid the highest price in Ireland’s “war of reprisals.”[19]Ibid., Pittsburgh Press, December 1, 1920. Syndicated humorist Arthur “Bugs” Baer (1886-1969) jabbed at the London government and ridiculed the League of Nations: “England killed a couple more folks in Dublin and will be suspended from the league for 15 minutes.”[20]Mr. B. Baer, “Long Live The League”, Pittsburgh Press, November 24, 1920.

Finally, Pittsburgh was home to the Irish Pennsylvanian, one of nearly a dozen Irish-interest weeklies listed in the 1920 Ayer and Son’s newspaper directory.[21]Ayer & Sons, 1920, 1247. The 3,000-circulation paper folded in 1921 and no copies appear to survive. The Press was sold to the Scripps Howard chain in 1923.

Catholic’s coverage

Francis Patrick Smith was in his thirtieth year as editor of the Catholic by November 1920. Born to Irish immigrants in Pittsburgh, he was educated at Catholic schools in the city and in Maryland. Smith began his newspaper career in Washington, D.C., worked at a paper in Ohio, then returned home.[22]See my “‘Luminous In Its Presentation’: The Pittsburgh Catholic and Revolutionary Ireland, 1912-1923” in Gathered Fragments, Catholic Historical Society of Western Pennsylvania, Vol. XXXII, … Continue reading

Bishop Canevin

Bishop John Francis Regis Canevin administered the Pittsburgh diocese. He also was the local son of Irish immigrants and had worked with Smith at the Catholic in the 1890s, before being elevated to lead the see.[23]Ibid. By 1920, the 10-county dioceses counted 560,000 adherents, nearly a quarter of the jurisdiction’s 2.3 million population.[24]Official Catholic Directory. [New York, N.Y.: P.J. Kenedy and Sons, 1920]. 521. Canevin’s “official approbation,” which stated the Catholic was “deserving of approval for its service in the cause of truth and morality,” appeared under the masthead of the 17,000-circulation paper.[25]Canevin used the term “official approbation” in a July 2, 1921, letter published on the front page of the Catholic, July 14, 1921. He withdrew the endorsement because he resigned as bishop. … Continue reading Such endorsements were as common in the U.S. Catholic press at the time as Irish American editors and bishops.[26]Rowland, Patriotism. 5.

The name of founding Bishop Michael O’Conner also remained under the front-page nameplate of the Catholic’s November 25, 1920, issue, its first after Bloody Sunday. The paper published two page 1 stories about Ireland above the fold, but neither was about the events in Dublin four days earlier. A National Catholic Welfare Council (NCWC) News Service story dated November 18 from Washington, D.C., detailed the American Commission on Conditions in Ireland testimony of Rev. James H. Cotter, of Ironton, Ohio, and Rev. Michael English of Whitehall, Montana. The Commission was a non-U.S. government panel created by Irish activists with the help of Oswald Garrison Villard, editor of The Nation magazine, to keep the Irish cause in the news. Commission members included two U.S. senators and progressive activist Jane Addams. The NCWC story described how the “American Catholic priests” each claimed to be eyewitnesses of “outrages committed in Ireland by British forces” during their visits to the country earlier in the year.[27]“American Priests Give Testimony on Irish Atrocities”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.

The U.S. Catholic hierarchy established the NCWC News Service in January 1920 from the decade-old Catholic Press Association, which provided advertising assistance and news from Rome, London, and Washington, D.C. Justin McGrath, a Hearst executive, was hired as NCWC’s director. By April, 40 Catholic papers paid $2 per week for the mimeograph News Sheet, while 21 others paid $5 per week for cable service. The NCWC “attempted to be to the Catholic Press what the Associated Press, United Press, and Universal Services were to the secular papers, but it concentrated on news that was strictly Catholic or of particular interest to Catholics.”[28]Reilly, Sister Mary Lonan, A History of The Catholic Press Association 1911-1968. [Metuchen, N.J.: The Scarecrow Press, Inc. 1971] 64-65.

The second story on the front the November 25 Catholic was dated the same day as Bloody Sunday in Dublin, but it came from Galway, Ireland. No news source was provided. The story detailed the discovery of the body of Father Michael Griffin in a shallow bog near the town, a bullet wound in his temple. The Catholic priest was reported to have been kidnapped several days earlier by British troops as he prepared to sail to Washington to give testimony before the American Commission.[29]“Priest British Force Kidnapped, Slain”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.

Six more stories about Ireland were scattered through the issue’s remaining seven pages.[30]“Irish Priests Are Not Immune From British Outrages”, “Important Discussion In Ireland Of Attacks On Police”, “Commission To Investigate Irish Atrocities”, “Mythical Organization … Continue reading They include a second story about the American Commission hearings, and separate allegations of British offenses against the Irish people in general and Catholic priests in particular. Other stories detailed the desecration of a Catholic church in Dublin and damage to Catholic homes and businesses in Belfast. One of these stories was attributed to the NCWC News Service, but the others had no byline or source. None of them reported on the assassinated military officers or the slaughter at Croke Park. Not directly, anyway.

One story, however, featured an extended quotation from Arthur Griffith, leader of the separatist Sinn Féin party, who addressed Irish attacks on the police. The story was not dated, but the statement appeared to have been made before Bloody Sunday and Griffith’s arrest a few days later. British Prime Minister David Lloyd George “says that the murders, as he calls them, in Ireland, are the work of a band of assassins,” Griffith said. “This is true if he speaks of the arson and the assassination by (his own) uniformed men.”[31]“Important Discussion…”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.

The 25-page NCWC News Sheet distributed to Catholic newspapers for the week of November 22, 1920, did not include any coverage of Bloody Sunday.[32]Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, November 22, 1920. Papers such as Philadelphia’s Catholic Standard & Times and Cincinnati’s Catholic Telegraph did not contain any reports in their first issues after the Dublin events.[33]Catholic Telegraph, November 25, 1920. Catholic Standard and Times, November 27, 1920. Other Catholic papers did. The Catholic Columbian of Columbus, Ohio, headlined:

Hell Hounds Let Loose on
a Happy Football Crowd

The front-page story was based on “meager and nicely-colored newspaper reports” but did not specify the sources. It described the soldiers who opened fire at Croke Park as “demons” and the military officers killed earlier in the day as “the scum of English jails.” The roundup-style story included other developments in the Irish war from both sides of the Atlantic, including the disappearance of Father Griffin and the U.S. travels of Eamon de Valera, another Sinn Féin leader. The story assailed “the British-controlled press” and selective pro-British or anti-Irish reporting “intended only for American newspapers.”[34]Headline and text, Catholic Columbian (Columbus, Ohio), November 26, 1920.

In Brooklyn, New York, the Tablet carried a front-page story “by cable” from Dublin that declared the situation in Ireland “was never as dark as at present.” The story reported “some dozen” of British officers were killed and “over one hundred innocent people” died in the “desperate reprisals.”[35]“Warfare Reigns In Ireland”, The Tablet (Brooklyn, N.Y.), November 27, 1920. Inaccurate, but not ignored.

Next Catholic

If a tight deadline prevented the Catholic from publishing news about Bloody Sunday in its November 25 issue, the continued absence of reporting about the events in Dublin appears more conspicuous in the following week’s paper. Bishop Canevin’s resignation announcement dominated the December 2 issue. It contained eight news stories dated after November 21, including an NCWC “Special Cable” from Balboa, Panama, about President-elect Warren G. Harding’s Thanksgiving Day visit to a Catholic women’s community house in the Central American isthmus.[36]“Distinguished Visitor Highly Honored”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920. That week’s 27-page NCWC News Sheet did not include any coverage of Bloody Sunday among dozens of stories.[37]Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, November 29, 1920.

The Catholic gave its readers three locally generated opinion pieces about Ireland:

  • On page 2 it published the full sermon of Rev. Peter J. Brennan, a diocesan priest, from one of the local memorial masses for Terence MacSwiney, the separatist lord mayor of Cork city. MacSwiney died October 25, 1920, after more than a month-long hunger strike in an English prison. Brennan said: “Let us highly resolve that we shall never rest till the hopes which sustained murdered MacSwiney in his life and death struggle with the English enemy shall be realized in all their fullness. Ireland shall be free and self-determined.”[38]“Memorial Sermon on Terence MacSwiney”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
  • An unsigned editorial on page 4, probably written by editor Smith, made an economic argument: “A free Ireland would mean an immense impetus to American commerce, not only with Ireland, but with Continental Europe. Ireland is closer to us than England and Scotland are. It has more harbors by far, and larger and more serviceable there, if the waiting possibilities were developed, as they would rapidly be in a free Ireland.”[39]“A Free Ireland”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
  • In a back-page column, Rev. Thomas Coakley, another diocesan priest, suggested that “Catholic hating England … Ireland’s implacable persecutor” was helping to fulfill a divine design. “God in His providence has used British imperialism to good advantage. The English language, the Irish race, and the Catholic faith are overrunning the world. This my friends, in the counsels of God, is the enchanting triple destiny of the sons and daughters of Ireland.”[40]“The Destiny of the Irish Race”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.

Brennan was the American-born son of two Irish immigrants.[41]Year: 1920; Census Place: Dunbar, Fayette, Pennsylvania; Roll: T625_1568; Page: 2A; Enumeration District: 26. Coakley was the American son of an Irish immigrant father and American mother. As a U.S. Army chaplain in the First World War, he tended the spiritual needs of troops in France and German. Shortly after his return to Pittsburgh, Coakley and seven other army chaplains led a non-denominational rally in Pittsburgh to support self-determination for Ireland.[42]Year: 1910; Census Place: Pittsburgh Ward 4, Allegheny, Pennsylvania; Roll: T624_1300; Page: 13a; Enumeration District: 0321; FHL microfilm: 1375313. “Death Claims Father Coakley”, The … Continue reading

It is unclear why the Catholic ignored Bloody Sunday, especially the civilian massacre at Croke Park. The 14 victims included four males aged 10 to 19, and a woman engaged to be married the following week. Most were Catholics, though initial reports in the secular press did not provide their names, ages, or details such as their religious affiliation.[43]In Dublin, Catholic funeral masses for the victims were held at St. Mary’s Pro-Cathedral, St. Kevin’s Church on Harrington Street, and Holy Cross Church in Dundrum. See “The Funerals” in … Continue reading Reporting on the stadium shootings would have meant including the assassinations, too, which would have challenged the Catholic’s pro-Irish editorial views. But this was not impossible, as proven by the church itself.

Image from American Commission on Conditions in Ireland Interim Report, 1920

Cardinal Michael Logue, the top Catholic prelate in Ireland, released a “scathing” pastoral letter a week after Bloody Sunday, reported in the daily Pittsburgh Gazette Times via the Associated Press. Logue denounced all the Bloody Sunday violence, saying the separatist assassins “are not real patriots but enemies of their country.” The shooting deaths at Croke Park, however, were “a graver outrage … (as Crown forces) “turn(ed) lethal weapons against defenseless, unarmed, closely packed multitudes.”[44]“Cardinal Logue Denounces Murders, Arraigns Crown For Croak Park Slayings”, Pittsburgh Gazette Times, November 29, 1920.

Three more weeks passed before the Catholic reported the cardinal’s letter, on page 3, its first mention of Bloody Sunday.[45]“Cardinal Logue, Primate of Ireland, Denounces Murders”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 23, 1920. The same December 23 issue, on page 2, also contained an undated and unsourced report that some Canadian newspapers “of supposed standing” had selectively quoted the cardinal’s letter to make it appear he blamed Sinn Féin for all the violence in Ireland. This story included an undated response from Cardinal Logue, who wrote that he was not responsible for “dishonest journalists.”[46]“Campaign of Lies; Card. Logue Victim”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 23, 1920.

It is possible that editor Smith had withheld the news from Dublin in an abundance of caution. Two months before Bloody Sunday, an editorial in the Catholic acknowledged the paper’s Irish news had been “irregular” and subject to censorship. “In the exercise of a judgment, prudent and safe, it was, at times, thought advisable to be chary in selecting this press matter unless absolutely verified and conformable to the ethics of Catholic Journalism,” the editorial said. “This is a point that some well-intentioned friends do not perceive; they measure in their criticism the Catholic paper by the same standard as they do the secular press.”[47]“Luminous”, citing “Our Irish Critics” Pittsburgh Catholic, September 23, 1920.

In addition to its deference to the British military and government, secular coverage of Bloody Sunday certainly contained errors, as also seen in the Catholic press. Most significantly, there was never any compelling evidence that Sinn Féin “pickets” or IRA snipers fired at the military and police at Croke Park.[48]There were multiple probes of the event. See “The Inquiries” in Foley, The Bloodied Field. That was propaganda. Of less consequence, the first-day Press story stated the crowd had gathered to “watch a hockey match.” It was a Gaelic football contest, not even the Irish field sport of hurling, which involves a long, wooden stick with a broad, flat base to strike the ball, like a hockey stick.

Fifty-two years later, the Pittsburgh Catholic would provide quicker and more detailed coverage of the second Bloody Sunday in Ireland. Read Part 2.

References

References
1 Several violent episodes in history have been described as “Bloody Sunday,” including the March 7, 1965, attack by police authorities on predominantly Black civil rights marchers in Selma, Alabama. Two other episodes of modern Irish history are occasionally labeled with the epithet: August 31, 1913, in Dublin, and July 10, 1921, in Belfast. The November 21, 1920, bloodshed in Dublin was called “Red Sunday” in some early press accounts.
2 Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, which includes Pittsburgh, ranked seventh in the nation for “counties with highest population of Irish ancestry,” per 2022 American Community Survey, U.S. Census Bureau.
3 See O’Neil, Gerard F., Pittsburgh Irish: Erin on the Three Rivers. [Charleston, S.C: The History Press, 2015].
4 Woods, Robert A., “Pittsburgh: An Interpretation Of Its Growth” in The Pittsburgh Survey, Findings in Six Volumes, edited by Paul Underwood Kellogg. [New York: Survey Associates Inc., 1914] 9.
5 1920 U.S. Census. Table 13: “Country of Birth of the Foreign-Born White, For Cities of 100,000 or More”, 50. Table 65, “Number and Per Cent of Native White Population of Foreign or Mixed Parentage, By Birthplace of Parents …”, 134, and Table 67, “Five Leading Countries of Origin of Foreign-Born White Population and of Native White of Foreign Stock …”, 137.
6 “The Pittsburgh Catholic”, Pittsburgh Catholic, March 16, 1844.
7 Foik, Paul J., “Pioneer Efforts in Catholic Journalism in the United States (1809-1840)” in The Catholic Historical Review, Vol.  1, No.  3, October 1915, 258–70.
8 Rowland, Thomas Joseph, Patriotism is a Catholic Virtue: Irish-American Catholics and the Church in the Era of the Great War, 1900-1918. [Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2023] 95-96.
9 Leeson, David, “Death in the Afternoon: The Croke Park Massacre, 21 November 1920,” Canadian Journal of History, April 2003. 43-67.
10 Mulholland, Mark, “Political Violence” in The Princeton History of Modern Ireland, Richard Bourke and Ian McBride, eds. [Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 2016] 382.
11 “We Ourselves.”  The Irish fada used on “Féin” except where quoted from newspapers that did not use it.
12 Dorney, John, “Bloody Sunday 1920 Revisited”, The Irish Story, November 21, 2020. Michael Foley, The Bloodied Field: Croke Park. Sunday 21 November 1920. [Dublin, The O’Brien Press, 2014]
13 N.W. Ayer & Son’s American Newspaper Annual & Directory, 1920 (in two volumes), [Philadelphia: N.W. Ayer & Son’s, 1920], 864.
14 “Martial Law Rules Dublin After ‘Red’ Sunday; Troops Alert”, Pittsburgh Press, November 22, 1920.
15 “Earle C. Reeves, Writer, Dies”, The Indianapolis Star, January 25, 1962, and other newspaper obituaries.
16 “Precautions More Drastic Than Any Taken In War Time”, Pittsburgh Press, November 28, 1920. “British Cabinet Plans To Protect Officials”, Pittsburgh Press, November 29, 1920. Uses “Irish terrorists” twice.
17 “One Trap Lloyd George Fell Into”, Pittsburgh Press, July 27, 1921.
18 Arthur Brisbane, “Today”, Pittsburgh Press, November 24, 1920.
19 Ibid., Pittsburgh Press, December 1, 1920.
20 Mr. B. Baer, “Long Live The League”, Pittsburgh Press, November 24, 1920.
21 Ayer & Sons, 1920, 1247.
22 See my “‘Luminous In Its Presentation’: The Pittsburgh Catholic and Revolutionary Ireland, 1912-1923” in Gathered Fragments, Catholic Historical Society of Western Pennsylvania, Vol. XXXII, Fall 2022, 4-19. This article does not discuss Bloody Sunday, 1920.
23 Ibid.
24 Official Catholic Directory. [New York, N.Y.: P.J. Kenedy and Sons, 1920]. 521.
25 Canevin used the term “official approbation” in a July 2, 1921, letter published on the front page of the Catholic, July 14, 1921. He withdrew the endorsement because he resigned as bishop. Circulation from Ayer & Son’s, 1202. Another English language Catholic weekly, the Observer, and German and Polish language Catholic papers also published in Pittsburgh at this time. Protestant denominations published a dozen papers in the city, with circulations that ranged from about 1,000 to 40,000.
26 Rowland, Patriotism. 5.
27 “American Priests Give Testimony on Irish Atrocities”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.
28 Reilly, Sister Mary Lonan, A History of The Catholic Press Association 1911-1968. [Metuchen, N.J.: The Scarecrow Press, Inc. 1971] 64-65.
29 “Priest British Force Kidnapped, Slain”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.
30 “Irish Priests Are Not Immune From British Outrages”, “Important Discussion In Ireland Of Attacks On Police”, “Commission To Investigate Irish Atrocities”, “Mythical Organization Threatening Irish Reprisals In U.S.”, “British ‘Huns’ Destruction”, and “Mysterious Occurrence In Dublin Church”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.
31 “Important Discussion…”, Pittsburgh Catholic, November 25, 1920.
32 Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, November 22, 1920.
33 Catholic Telegraph, November 25, 1920. Catholic Standard and Times, November 27, 1920.
34 Headline and text, Catholic Columbian (Columbus, Ohio), November 26, 1920.
35 “Warfare Reigns In Ireland”, The Tablet (Brooklyn, N.Y.), November 27, 1920.
36 “Distinguished Visitor Highly Honored”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
37 Catholic News Service Newsfeed, The N.C.W.C. News Sheet, November 29, 1920.
38 “Memorial Sermon on Terence MacSwiney”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
39 “A Free Ireland”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
40 “The Destiny of the Irish Race”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 2, 1920.
41 Year: 1920; Census Place: Dunbar, Fayette, Pennsylvania; Roll: T625_1568; Page: 2A; Enumeration District: 26.
42 Year: 1910; Census Place: Pittsburgh Ward 4, Allegheny, Pennsylvania; Roll: T624_1300; Page: 13a; Enumeration District: 0321; FHL microfilm: 1375313. “Death Claims Father Coakley”, The Tablet (Brooklyn, N.Y.) March 10, 1951. “Irish Self-Determination Mass Meeting Will Be Held Tonight In Syria Mosque”, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, June 1, 1919.
43 In Dublin, Catholic funeral masses for the victims were held at St. Mary’s Pro-Cathedral, St. Kevin’s Church on Harrington Street, and Holy Cross Church in Dundrum. See “The Funerals” in Foley, The Bloodied Field.
44 “Cardinal Logue Denounces Murders, Arraigns Crown For Croak Park Slayings”, Pittsburgh Gazette Times, November 29, 1920.
45 “Cardinal Logue, Primate of Ireland, Denounces Murders”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 23, 1920.
46 “Campaign of Lies; Card. Logue Victim”, Pittsburgh Catholic, December 23, 1920.
47 “Luminous”, citing “Our Irish Critics” Pittsburgh Catholic, September 23, 1920.
48 There were multiple probes of the event. See “The Inquiries” in Foley, The Bloodied Field.

Our 1,000th post notes upcoming AJHA paper presentation

I will present my above titled paper at the American Journalism Historians Association’s 43rd Annual Conference, Oct. 3-5, in Pittsburgh. The paper 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.

AJHA conferences presentations are not available online. I will publish this paper as a two-part post after the conference. See my earlier presentations.

This announcement is also my milestone 1,000th post since launching the blog in 2012. I appreciate my email subscribers and other readers, plus the librarians and archivists who have assisted my work. Most of all, I am grateful for the love and support of ADH, my wife and patron for more than 22 years. MH

Catching up with modern Ireland

A periodic post of curated content …

Northern Ireland Assembly election are scheduled for May 5. The DUP’s Paul Givan resigned in early February as the power-sharing Executive’s first minister to protest the Northern Ireland Protocol, the Brexit-driven trade rules that separate the region from the rest of Britain. Givan’s move resulted in Sinn Féin‘s Michelle O’Neill losing her role as deputy first minister and cast doubt on whether the Executive, or the Assembly, could return after the election … if it takes place. The New York Times featured Upheaval in Northern Ireland, With Brexit at Its Center.

  • Ireland is repealing nearly all of its COVID-19 restrictions as the pandemic reaches its second anniversary. Overall, Ireland did pretty well dealing with the pandemic when compared with how other countries responded, Irish Times Public Affairs Editor Simon Carswell told the Feb. 27 In The News podcast.
  • U.S. President Joe Biden will travel to Ireland this summer, according to media reports that surfaced before the Russian invasion of Ukraine. He visited his ancestral County Mayo homeland as vice president in 2016 and 2017.
  • Claire D. Cronin presented her credentials as United States Ambassador to Ireland to President of Ireland Michael D. Higgins on Feb. 10. Cronin is 25th U.S. ambassador to Ireland and third woman in the role, following Margaret Heckler and Jean Kennedy Smith.

Higgins, left, and Cronin.

History notes:

  • Two former nuns created a “Coastal Camino” that is bringing travelers to an otherwise neglected part of Northern Ireland, reports BBC’s Travel section.
  • Seventh century Irish monks who were largely responsible for transforming this sacrament into the version with which we’re familiar, John Rodden writes in Commonweal.
  • My story on the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday for History News Network at George Washington University.

See previous “Catching up with modern Ireland” columns and annual “Best of the Blog.”

Irish Pittsburgh’s November to remember, 1920

Terence MacSwiney

Pittsburgh’s Irish community in November 1920 mourned the hunger-strike death of Terence MacSwiney and remembered the Manchester Martyrs of 1867. It followed news of “Bloody Sunday” in Dublin; the opening of the American Commission on Conditions in Ireland hearings in Washington, D.C.; and the launch of the American Association for the Recognition of the Irish Republic (AARIR) to rival the established Clan na Gael and affiliated Friends of Irish Freedom (FOIF).

About 14,000 Irish immigrants lived in Pittsburgh at the time, or 2.4 percent the city’s population; down from an 11 percent post-Famine peak of 27,000 in 1890.1 The population of first generation Irish Americans with at least one Irish-born parent in the city and surrounding regions is not clear.

Mourning MacSwiney

A reported 5,000 Irish sympathizers packed the Lyceum Theater in downtown Pittsburgh the evening of Oct. 31, 1920, to mourn MacSwiney’s death six days earlier. Another 2,000 unable to get inside held an overflow demonstration on Penn Avenue. Both groups listened to speeches for more than two hours about MacSwiney and the other hunger strikers Joseph Murphy and Michael Fitzgerald.2

Lyceum Theater sign can be seen in middle of the block of this 1914 photo. The downtown vaudeville house was a popular meeting place for Pittsburgh’s Irish community, including an anti-conscription protest and “Self-Determination for Ireland” rally in 1918.

Three days later, Catholic church hierarchy and over 2,000 mourners attended a solemn high mass at St. Paul’s Cathedral in the city’s Oakland district. An Irish tricolor was placed over a coffin. Subsequent memorial masses were held at St. Patrick’s Church, near downtown, with a sermon on “Destiny of the Irish Race”; and St. John the Evangelist, on the city’s Southside. 3

Martyrs Meeting

Western Pennsylvania representatives of the Clan na Gael packed the Lyceum again on Nov. 21 to hear Fenian legend John Devoy, then 78. There is no indication in the Pittsburgh newspaper coverage that news of the Bloody Sunday events hours earlier that day in Ireland reached the meeting. Instead, Devoy framed his Manchester Martyrs remembrance around the launch of the AARIR by Harry Boland and Éamon De Valera.

Pittsburgh newspaper headline the morning after John Devoy appearance in the city.

The “attempt to wreck the old organization which has kept the I.R.B. in Ireland alive for half a century, has had no effect whatever in Pittsburgh, except to make the members angry at [the] unwarrantable action, and they crowded the theater with their wives, children and neighbors to testify to their unbroken faith in the organization and the cause it represents in America but for its steadfastness and devotion.” Devoy’s Gaelic American reported two weeks later.4

The New York newspaper said its editor’s Pittsburgh hotel quarters were crowded “with old timers and young men who came to pledge their support in opposing the attempt to break the organization and to learn the inside history of the latest scheme to make a split among the American Irish.”

John Devoy

In his speech, Devoy recounted that he was locked up at Millbank Prison in London, about 200 miles south of Manchester, when William Philip Allen, Michael Larkin, and Michael O’Brien were executed. He said newspaper accounts were smuggled to him by the I.R.B.’s Tom O’Bolger, who had avoided capture in the attempt to free Fenian prisoners from English custody, the event that ensnared Allen, Larkin, and O’Brien.

“The executions were intended to strike terror into the Irish people, but they had the very opposite effect. A wave of anti-English feeling swept over Ireland,” Devoy told the Lyceum audience.5

‘Avoid Splits’

Devoy also warned the Pittsburgh Irish to “avoid splits, which have ruined every Irish movement for the past 100 years. … Now, when the Irish in America are more united than at any other period in the history of the country, a new split is launched. It can only help England and bring discouragement to the people in the Old Land. The one thing that Ireland needs most is a United Irish Race in America, standing shoulder to shoulder, and acting under their own elected leaders.”

The split did occur, as further reported in the same issue of the Gaelic American: “… De Valera … said there was no split and that the two organizations could get along without friction. While making this statement he was making all the friction he possibly could. … [FOIF members were] induced by gross falsehood and misrepresentation to succeed and join the rival organization which is creating disunion in America while Lloyd George is butchering the people of Ireland.”6

Commission Hearings

The American Commission on Conditions in Ireland was a non-U.S. government body created in autumn 1920 to generate political support for the Irish cause. Pittsburgh Leader Publisher Alexander P. Moore was selected to sit on the high-profile panel. A year earlier, as event co-chairman for de Valera’s visit to Pittsburgh, Moore described himself as “the son of an Ulster Protestant whose father was driven out of Ireland because he fought for Irish freedom.”7 The newspaper man excused himself from commission service because he was “unable to give the time necessary to the inquiry,” with hearings that lasted from November through January 1921.8

In early December, Pittsburgh innkeeper and Irish immigrant Patrick J. Guilfoil was called before the commission to testify about his experiences in Ireland earlier in the year. He described how Irish republican gunmen killed two Royal Irish Constabulary officers at Feakle, Co. Clare, where he was staying, which resulted in military reprisals on the village 50 miles north to Limerick city. Guilfoil also described the Cork city funeral procession of hunger striker Michael Fitzgerald. “Pittsburgh Witness In Irish Probe P.J. Guilfoil Tells of Raid by Military on County Clare Town’ and “Local Man Tells of Burning of Town in County Clare,” the city’s newspapers headlined.9

Guilfoil’s testimony was noted in other U.S. newspaper coverage of the Dec. 10 hearing, but it was overshadowed by the same-day testimony of Mary MacSwiney, sister of the late hunger striker; and by three former RIC officers who quit the force in protest of British “misrule” in Ireland. A treaty to separate Ireland from that rule and end the war would be agreed within a year. But the island was partitioned and the new free state plunged into civil war.

Related Work:

Remembering journalist killed on Bloody Sunday, 1920

Irish journalist Austin F. Cowley was shot dead by a military sentry on the evening of Nov. 21, 1920, at Navan, Co. Meath, hours after the “Bloody Sunday” killings in Dublin. The victim was deaf and did not hear three orders to halt from the sentry put “on the alert and on edge” by the earlier events.10

Cowley is the only journalist among 270 Irish citizens killed by British forces from Jan. 1, 1920 to Feb. 28, 1921, as listed in “The Struggles of the Irish People”, a plea for help presented by Dail Eireann to the U.S. Congress.11 Journalists in Ireland were certainly targets of intimidation and violence during the War of Independence period, 1919 to 1921, whether from British military and police authorities, or the IRA; but no others appear to have been killed.

Cowley was a “well-known sporting journalist … [whose] special forte was hunting and cricket.”12 His profession was noted on both the 1901 and 1911 census household returns. Those records also show he was slightly older than the 62-67 year range given in 1920 news reports and military records. A bachelor, he was “a splendid musician” and “popular with all classes, including the military.”13 [I have not been able to find a photo of Cowley.]

The Workhouse site on 1912 map.

The victim was the son of John Cowley, master of the Union Workhouse and Infirmary at Navan, where he continued to live after his father’s death in 1911. The South Wales Borderers stationed there in November 1920. As Ultan Courtney writes:

Earlier that day the Guard Commander had warned the sentry to keep an eye on the gate in consequence of a report of trouble in Dublin. This involved the shooting of 13 British Intelligence agents and the reprisal killings of 16 civilians at Croke Park and three IRA prisoners in Dublin Castle. The sentry would have been both on the alert and on edge as military patrols and checkpoints were set up in Navan and Dunshaughlin. … A Sergeant Major of the SWBs gave evidence that the sentry was perfectly calm and did not seem to have lost his head.14

Official notation of Austin Francis Cowley’s Nov. 21, 1920, shooting death for “failing to halt.” Courts of Inquiry In Lieu of Inquest, Register of Cases. Army of Ireland Records, Easter Rising & Ireland Under Martial Law 1916-1921. WO 35/162. The National Archives, Kew.

Cowley’s death was reported in dozens of U.S. newspapers, including the Boston Globe, New York Herald, Chicago Tribune, and San Francisco Chronicle. The brief accounts emphasized both his deafness and his role as a journalist. There might have been heightened sensitivity about his profession from a police threat to kill Hugh Martin of the Daily News, London, a few weeks earlier in Tralee, Co. Kerry. The episode drew international press attention, such as this Nov. 6, 1920, special cable:

Despite all efforts that have been made in and out of Parliament to create the impression that there has been a marked improvement in condition in Ireland … the majority of the newspapers insist that the situation there was never worse. … The threat against the life of Hugh Martin, English newspaper correspondent, who has been writing highly critical articles regarding the actions of the Black and Tans, has kept attention focused on Ireland that might otherwise have dwindled after [Terence] MacSwiney’s death. Now comes a striking editorial article in the New Statesman appealing to the American press to send over an army of its most trusted correspondents large enough to cover every county in Ireland.15

Parliament debated the press’s role in Ireland a few days after Cowley’s death and the more notorious events of “Bloody Sunday.” Liberal Party leader and former Prime Minister H.H. Asquith and others praised Martin and the international press for its reporting from the troubled island. Chief Secretary for Ireland Hamar Greenwood sought to undermine Martin’s reporting, but also insisted “he or any other pressman will be welcome to Ireland.”16

Headline from Nov. 22, 1920.

The digital Newseum’s Journalists Memorial pays tribute to 2,344 reporters, photographers, and broadcasters from around the world who have died while reporting the news. Lyra McKee’s 2019 death in Derry is the most recent of 11 Irish journalists in the searchable database.

The accidental nature of Cowley’s death and the fact that he was not actively reporting on the war probably excludes him from this listing. I have inquired about adding his name and details. The physical museum closed Dec. 31, 2019, and it is unclear whether emails are being answered.

Catching up with modern Ireland: September

The extraordinary year 2020 is three quarters done. On the island of Ireland two big questions hang over the remaining quarter: can the COVID-19 pandemic be managed and contained without too large an increase of infections and deaths; and can Britain and the E.U. agree a final Brexit trade deal? The monthy roundup picks from there:

  • The Republic of Ireland postponed the scheduled April 2021 Census until April 2022 because of the pandemic and to ensure the decenial count “achieves the highest possible response rate, across all facets of Irish society,” Central Statistics Office Director General Pádraig Dalton said.
  • The pandemic has relieved Dublin’s housing crunch that in recent years sent rents skyrocketing and left many people struggling to afford, or find, a place to live, The New York Times reported. How so? Denied tourists and business visitors, short-term Airbnb rentals have been returned to the market.
  • U.S. Special Envoy to Northern Ireland Mick Mulvaney said the American government is “confident the EU and UK will be able to work this [trade deal] out in a way that’s acceptable to everybody.”
  • Ireland’s 3 billion euro ($3.5 billion) plan to connect rural areas to high-speed broadband is proceeding quicker than expected, according to David McCourt, chairman of National Broadband Ireland (NBI), the vehicle created by U.S. media and telecoms investment firm Granahan McCourt. He told CNBC that despite some hurdles in the early days of the coronavirus lockdown, the project could be completed in about seven years, under the originally slated 10 years. See my earlier post: Ireland’s broadband push recalls rural electrification effort.
  • As more of the world’s leading tech companies expand their operations in Ireland, the county is being forced to choose between its climate ambitions and investment from these giant firms, OilPrice.com reported. Massive data centers are great for the nation’s finances, but wearing on its energy infrastructure and increasing its carbon footprint.
  • Wild salmon returns have improved, likely due to an easier run for the fish into Ireland’s rivers during the COVID-19 lockdown, SeafoodSource says. But The Guardian carried a troubling report about how urban wastewater and nutrient runoff are polluting Ireland’s waterways.
  • Former U.S. Vice President Joe Biden referenced his “Irish Catholic” roots during the Sept. 29 debate with President Donald Trump. The Irish Times described the televised confrontation as “shouting, interruptions and often incoherent cross talk.”

History News:

  • Ireland’s Great Hunger Museum at Quinnipiac University in Connecticut received a $10,000 grant coronavirus relief grant through the National Endowment for the Humanities. It will be used to defray financial losses incurred during the museum’s extended closure during the pandemic.
  • The 100-mile (165K) National Famine Way hike/bike/history trail from Strokestown, Co Roscommon, to Dublin, opened after a decade of development. It follows the route of 1,490 tenants evicted from the Strokestown estate of Major Denis Mahon in 1847 and forced to walk to the “coffin ships” that would take them from Ireland to America and Canada.
  • The Public Prosecution Service of Northern Ireland has decided to bring charges against no more than one of 15 soldiers involved in the 1972 “Bloody Sunday” civil rights demonstrations in Derry, the BBC reports. Thirteen were killed and 15 wounded when troops opened fire on demonstrators.

The old man and the clock:

  • This photo of an old man enjoying his pint in a Galway pub captured international media attention. He apparantely didn’t have a watch or smart phone to avoid overstaying the 90-minute limit imposed by Ireland’s COVID-19 restrictions, so he brought a bedside alarm clock. 

John Joe Quinn at McGinn’s Hop House in Galway city. Photo, Fergus McGinn.

Guest post: Frank Sinatra at Kate’s Bar, Derry

I’m always happy to publish a guest post from people visiting or just returned from Ireland. This piece is by Dick Davis, a retired San Francisco Bay area stockbroker and author of “Bus Journey Across Mexico” and other photo journals; and Victor A. Walsh, a retired California State Parks historian who has written about Ireland and Irish America for the San Francisco Irish Herald, Irish America, Eire-Ireland, and Journal of American Ethnic History. MH

Massive 17th-century siege walls surround the city of Derry (Londonderry to Loyalist Protestants) in Northern Ireland.  Waterloo Street, which parallels the old gray walls, rises steeply above the Bogside. In a 2002 visit, at a late hour, it’s empty; the buildings a silhouette of dark forms in the black night.

At the corner where Waterloo turns toward Diamond Square, we spot a brightly lit pub — a glow of life on the otherwise dreary street. The sign in front says, “Tonight Frank Sinatra”; below in smaller letters, “Jimmy Breslin.”

This is nuts, I think. I’m in Ireland, not New Jersey, and Frank’s dead.

We enter Kate’s Bar. It’s packed. Men are standing shoulder to shoulder drinking black pints of Guinness. Wisps of cigarette smoke and loud conversation fill the stale air. Some of the men are wearing white polo shirts with a football patch. Three ladies, near the front corner by the mike, more than fill a bench meant to seat four.

They remind me of buxom cafeteria workers from my high school days, only without aprons. All of them are blondes and their hair is curled and teased in the beehive style of the early ‘60s. It’s clear that they are here to listen to Frank.

We push through the throng of people, and find two tall stools against the back wall. A fellow next to me with tousled wavy black hair tells us that there are some empty tables in the next room. “Thanks,” says my friend Vic, “but we want to hear the music of Hoboken, Ireland.”  He nods somewhat quizzically and introduces himself as Declan.

Just as he begins to speak, someone yells, “Mop,” and Declan springs into action. A tray in front of a golden retriever sitting underneath the bar in front of us has been kicked over. As Declan quickly mops up the floor, he tells us that the dog belongs to a blind man, a regular seated at the bar. The tray is refilled, and the dog goes back to contentedly lapping up the Guinness.

At the far end of the bar stands an animated chap alternately talking and listening to his neighbor. When a point is made or something funny is said, he twirls his hand in a spiral motion and pokes his finger at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell if he was challenging God or keeping score.

Being newcomers, we begin to attract attention. “Where you from?” asks a thin fellow with a brown, droopy moustache. “California, near San Francisco,” I reply. “Oh, you’re a Yank,” he says in a friendly manner. He introduces himself as “Fergus,” with an emphasis on the “fer.”

We chat, and soon Declan returns. Like several other men at the pub, he is wearing a white polo shirt with a Celtic Football Club badge embroidered in green with a shamrock in the center. The patch is sewn on the right side of his shirt. On the left side, stitched in a circle with Irish flags are the words, “Celtic Supporters Club, McSheffrey and Deery.”

“Can I buy one of these shirts here?” I ask him. “They’re not for sale. They’re commemorative. They honor the memory of me friends, Eddie McSheffrey and Paddy Deery. We lost them to The Troubles here in ’87.”

“To your friends,” I saluted with my glass raised high and took a drink. Fifteen years, I thought, and The Troubles are still here, but friends are never forgotten.  

The stone walls that encircle Derry rose out of history. They stood in 1689 when Protestant defenders repelled a 105-day siege by the Catholic army of King James II.  They straddle the steep ground above ‘Free Derry’, the Catholic Bogside where British paratroopers in 1972 without provocation opened fire on unarmed Catholic civil rights marchers, killing 13 (a 14th person died later) and wounding 17 protesters in a massacre remembered as “Bloody Sunday.”

The murals and slogans painted on the walls and ramparts—“No Surrender”, “End The Torture”; “We Salute Those Who Gave Their Lives For Irish Freedom”—are a living testament to what divides the two cultures into segregated communities: one Protestant, British and Unionist; the other, Catholic, Irish and Republican.

As I think about this, someone whistles. The crowd claps, a cheer goes up, and a ruddy-faced version of Jimmy Breslin steps forward and screams into the mike, “It’s time for Frank!”

He’s dressed like a young Sinatra in a white-on-brown plaid sports jacket and fedora with the hat cocked and the brim turned down. He taps the mike; the crowd quiets as he fixes his gaze on the lady with the tallest beehive and sings, “I’ve got a crush on you…” She throws back her head; her face enveloped in a great smile. Her two friends nudge and jostle her.

As Sinatra croons “You do something to me…,” I look out at the blissful gathering, sparkling eyes, happy faces, people at the bar talking and laughing, small men dancing with large women, more joy and love than I’d ever seen in a church on Sunday.

Fergus comes over, taps me on the shoulder, and whispers, “To New Jersey,” referring to Sinatra’s home state.

Declan, who had disappeared when Frank began, returns with a white polo shirt. “Let me check the sizes. I couldn’t see in that cave-dark store room,” he explains. It’s extra-large, my size. As he hands it over to me, I could see a tear of joy in his eyes. “The club stocks the shirts, but we never sell our memories,” he says.

In June 2017, I returned to Derry with my granddaughter and grandson. We visited the Museum of Free Derry. The film clips on The Troubles were both personal and deeply moving, especially Prime Minister David Cameron’s apology on June 15, 2010, for what happened on Bloody Sunday. The Bogside was jubilant; the fallen finally remembered as victims, not perpetrators. In this sense Free Derry represents a future together as much as a past apart. .

Afterwards, we walk up Waterloo looking for Kate’s Bar. Uncertain, we ask around until I spot a pub called Castle Bar. For me, it’s still Kate’s.

When we enter, my commemorative polo shirt catches people’s attention. At the bar, I ask if anyone remembered Kate’s. “Yes,” an older fellow shouts while nudging his way forward. When he sees the polo shirt, he slowly bends his head, kisses the logo with the two names, and then praises me for bringing my grandkids, letting them know about The Troubles.

The mood is subdued; almost reverential. No one spoke. Words did not matter for the faces in that moment of silence simmered with the memory of tribal wrongs.

(Editor’s Note: Patrick Deery and Edward McSheffrey were among nearly 100 people killed in Northern Ireland in 1987. Nearly 3,600 violent deaths–nationalists, loyalists, British troops and innocent civilians– occurred during The Troubles, which lasted from 1968 to 1998.)

The worst of the Troubles ended nearly 20 years ago with Good Friday Agreement, but neighborhoods in Derry/Londonderry remain divided between Unionist/Loyalists, top, and Nationalists/Republicans, below. June 2017 photos by Dick Davis.

Remembering Bloody Sunday’s uneaten Mars bar

First, the numbers: 45 years after 13 Catholic civil rights marchers were shot dead on Bloody Sunday, 18 members of the British Parachute Regiment that opened fire on them that day in Derry may soon face charges, John Kelly, brother of one of the victims, told The Irish Times.

Kelly also repeated the story he told me in 2001, when we met at the Bloody Sunday Trust, a museum, human rights advocacy and conflict resolution center. His brother Michael, 17, was carrying a Mars candy bar in his pocket at the time he was shot.

The sweet became part of the evidence in several tribunals that explored the events of Bloody Sunday. A 2010 report determined the victims (a 14th person died later) were innocent. British PM David Cameron apologized for the 1972 military action to the surviving families and the community. As yet, however, none of the soldiers has faced charges for the deaths.

More on the background and latest developments in this BBC story.

“We will be here as long as we need to be,” Kelly told me in 2001. “What’s a couple more years, since we have waited nearly 30 [now 45] to hopefully get truth and justice?”

The 1972 civil rights march in Derry, Northern Ireland, that became Bloody Sunday.

Derry’s ‘Bloody Sunday’ Bishop Dies at 82

Former Bishop of Derry Dr. Edward Daly, photographed in January 1972 waving a blood-stained handkerchief as he tied to help injured civil rights protesters pass through British troops, died 8 August 2016. He was 82.

The Irish Times called the Bloody Sunday photo “one of the defining images of the conflict in the North.” Archbishop of Armagh Eamon Martin said his brother priest “literally spent himself in the service of others.”

Here’s the IT’s full news obit, and U.S. coverage from The New York Times. Also, my 2001 report from Derry about the conflict.

Dr. Edward Daly at Bloody Sunday in January 1972.

Dr. Edward Daly at Bloody Sunday in January 1972.