Archive : Category

Ali meets Fighting Irishmen in Phoenix

POSTED ON February 8th  - POSTED IN News & Views

Ali-jpg

By Irish Echo Staff

It will be a winning combination. Boxing legend Muhammad Ali will this week pay tribute to Irish boxers of yore at the McClelland Irish Library in Phoenix, Arizona.

Ali will be on hand to help open the Phoenix phase of the globally touring “Fighting Irishmen” exhibit at the library which is housed at the city’s Irish Cultural Center.

Ali’s maternal great-grandfather, Abe Grady, was born in County Clare, and immigrated to the U.S. in the 1860s. The “greatest” was, in recent years, honored by Grady’s home town of Ennis.

The Fighting Irishmen exhibit, created by New York real estate company owner, James J. Houlihan, first opened in 2006 at the Irish Arts Center in Manhattan, the venue for which it was first specifically created.

The exhibit explores the contributions of Irish amateur and professional boxers over the last 200 years, and features a treasure trove of gloves, robes, posters and a myriad of artifacts.

The exhibit was moved in 2007 to the South Street Seaport Museum in lower Manhattan. In 2008, it was featured at the John Burns Library at Boston College, and in 2009 the exhibit traveled across the Atlantic and appeared in the Ulster American Folk Park in Omagh, County Tyrone. In 2010, the exhibit was on display at Croke Park at the GAA Museum in Dublin and by 2011 it was at the Sports Arena at the University of Limerick.

The Phoenix exhibit will run through May on Tuesdays and Saturdays, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. and Wednesdays 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. plus additional times to be announced.

The opening reception will honor Muhammad Ali as well as local boxing officials and celebrities.Special guests include Bob O’Neill, Boston College Burns Library; exhibit curator Jim Houlihan, and Dennis O’Connell, executive director of the Arizona Boxing & MMA Commission. Jimmy Walker, chairman and founder of the Celebrity Fight Night Foundation, will acknowledge Ali and his wife. Head Librarian Chas Moore and library founder Norman McClelland will also be on hand for the opening which will include a video tribute to Ali and the Irish family roots of his great-grandfather, who grew up in Ennis, a sister city of Phoenix.

There are a number of items in the exhibit from Ali who fought, and won, at Croke Park in Dublin in 1972 and was honored in Ennis in 2009. the exhibit will include an array of robes, gloves, boxing bags, prints, photographs, painting and film footage of Celtic prize-fighters from 1820 to the present day.

Objects on display will include pieces from sporting greats such as John L. Sullivan, Jack Dempsey, Gene Tunney, Barry McGuigan, Freddie Gilroy, Bobby Cassidy, Gerry Cooney, Wayne McCullough, Billy Graham, Billy Conn, Frank Moran, John Duddy, Maureen Shea and many more.

Ballymena-born actor Liam Neeson, honorary chair and long-time supporter of the Irish Arts Center, has also loaned personal items from his amateur boxing career to the exhibit, including the gloves given to him by Olympic boxer Freddie Gilroy.

The mission of the Irish Cultural Center in Phoenix is to provide a link between the people of Arizona and the people of Ireland and other Celtic cultures.

Programs, classes, festivals, exhibitions and special events are offered in history, music, art, dance, literature, drama, crafts, language, travel, sports and traditional activities.

The center campus includes the Great Hall, cottage, gift shop, famine memorial and now the McClelland Irish Library, which opened in October 2012 after more than five years of planning.

The three-story building, which is modeled after an Irish castle, houses a book and periodical collection with several reading rooms, archive, genealogy research centre, classroom, board room, exhibition gallery and an permanent exhibition of the Book of Kells. The Academy of Irish and Celtic Studies is housed in the lower level of the building.

The center and library are owned by the City of Phoenix and operated through public-private partnership with the Irish Cultural and Learning Foundation, Inc., a non-profit corporation.

More on the library at www.azirishlibrary.org and on the enter at www.azirish.org For future Fighting Irishmen exhibit hosting opportunities, contact James Houlihan, Houlihan-Parnes Realtors (914)694-6070 or jjh@houlihanparnes.com.

World changes forever in one night

POSTED ON February 7th  - POSTED IN IE, News & Views

The life of frequent Irish Echo contributor Patrick Fenton and his family was turned upside down by Hurricane Sandy on Oct. 29. In this essay in diary format, he recounts his experience in the weeks after Hurricane Sandy hit.

 

I live right next to a wide canal in Massapequa, Long Island. Just a few feet from it. On maps it’s called the Massapequa River. It makes a short turn around a wide bend and flows into the Great South Bay, which is just around the corner from me. I’m a long way from the Irish, working-class tenements of Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn where I grew up in the late 1940s and into the ‘50s.

The storm grabbed me by the neck and totally destroyed the first floor of the high ranch I own. Massive destruction everywhere. My daughter Kelly and my grandson Miguel live there. Five feet of water in the streets, cars floating everywhere with lights flashing, boats thrown around on lawns like kids’ toys. Everything is gone, and now the first floor has been stripped down to the bare studs by a contractor. Every stove, washer refrigerator, beds, boiler, furniture gone. It’s all out on the front lawn now.

Over three feet of water came rushing in from both sides of the house, front and back and turned over the refrigerator and every piece of furniture. If we hadn’t evacuated hastily the night before we could have died there. After a midnight check of the bulk head outside my door I saw the water starting to slowly pour over it. It gave me an awful feeling and I knew right away that we were in trouble.

I walked up the block to the corner and I watched the water coming up from the sewers and starting to come more and more down our block, Neptune Place. It was like an eerie scene from a movie. I got my wife and daughter, who were in their pajamas moving, and told them we have to leave tonight. Right now. Don’t hesitate. I called the Best Western on Sunrise Highway. They had two rooms left for the night and they would hold them for us.

The neighborhood looks like a war zone at night now, convoys of Army helicopters flying low over the canal, darkness everywhere, a Military Police truck moving through the street. For 18 nights we were without gas, electricity, heat. We tried staying on the second floor for three nights, reading books by candle light, but it got so cold even with four blankets on, we had to leave again.

“John,” one of the neighbors who rode it out, and regretted it, says he saw a 40-foot boat come out of the Great South Bay and float down our street, and then when the tide finally started to release Sandy’s grip on us, it simply swirled around and sailed back out to God knows where. All of these tough canal people who have lived next to the canals for generations and look out at storms with a glass of scotch in hand and a concerned stare before bedding down had their world changed forever this night. But they’re strong people, and they see life through their own eyes.

 

“John, one of the neighbors who rode it out, and regretted it, says he saw a 40-foot boat come out of the Great South Bay and float down our street, and then when the tide finally started to release Sandy’s grip on us, it simply swirled around and sailed back out to God knows where.”

 

As the water rose higher and higher in the street and started to flow in through his front door, John retreated to the highest floor in the house and watched as he saw a scene he had to hope he would never ever witness again in his lifetime. He watched from his window as two huge trees on the side of my house got felled and made an awful sound as they took up huge slabs of my concrete, leaving behind two 16-foot root balls and craters and crushed boats, and fences. He said they went down about midnight.

At the same time a full-size Boston Whaler was being tipped over and dumped off of the bulk head in front of my house, whole entire docks, two of them with three tied up ski jets on them were ripped away and pulled across the canal, boats and all. For days after the hurricane huge wooden docks would come floating down our canal.

 

Dropped into Vonnegut

 

I have been living in three different places since it hit. We made it out the first night to the Best Western on Sunrise Highway at about midnight. First night there a huge utility pole fell on the hotel and we were without lights, heat, hot showers again. They didn’t have a generator. After two nights of this, we moved again.

I’m living in a basement in North Massapequa right now, and have been spending my days calling insurance adjusters, contractors, FEMA. I have flood insurance so after a long while I should be okay. I told my daughter that I will rebuild better than ever, and we will. And I’ll figure that out. But it’s going to take time.

We are all okay — Kelly my daughter doing such great work getting us signed up for assistance, my wife the same, but we have seen a lot of things, disaster scenes, nobody should have to see or live through. I spent one cold afternoon in a disaster tent city set up by FEMA in Cedar Creek Park in next door Seaford to check on my application for FEMA assistance. Waiting on cold metal chairs with a group of other people for my name to be called. And wondering how I wound up here.  It’s like someone picked me up from my normal world of writing and hanging out, and dropped me from the sky here into the gloomy world of a Kurt Vonnegut novel. “So it goes.”

It was a huge, white circus-type tent with rows and rows of long, portable tables with phones on them   hooked up to FEMA’s computers, portable heaters blowing through the coldness of the tent. And outside rows and rows of mobile insurance trailers were lined up under the gray sky, Red Cross trucks giving hot meals and blankets to those who needed them. And off on a hill at the back of the park, shower trailers and trailers where you could do some laundry. The misery and loneliness on the faces of the people coming in and out of that tent is something I will never forget. It humbles you.

But my creative strength is coming back, and that’s a good thing. So is my sense of humor. Every now an then when my daughter Kelly accomplishes something new for us with FEMA or some other disaster agency and we are settled down by candle light for the night with a glass of wine, I turn to her and say, “you’re doing a heck of a job, Brownie.” I say the same thing to my wife Patricia and we all smile.

I walked down my block the other day in late evening, and I took a few pictures of refrigerators and personal belongings spray painted with messages for FEMA. Maybe for a story when I get my feet back on the ground, I thought. And then I thought, it’s coming back, the need and urge to write, to be creative. To record. And it made me feel good inside.

In the beginning, Kelly said to me, “I know you will write about this, Dad. I know it.” Not now I won’t, I told her. I just can’t think about writing now. It hurts too much.

 

Continues on page 17

 

Continued from page 16

 

At first strange, scary stories of destruction were coming in, rumors then. But most of them turned out to be true or very close to it. One night I walked out in the darkness to stand on the balcony of the hotel and drink a can of Budweiser, and a tall, blond woman in her 50s was standing there smoking a cigarette and staring out at the pitch black night. She lived in the next shore town over from mine she said, Seaford, a mostly working-class hamlet where Irish families have lived in the same small capes next to the canals for generations. Many of their houses were converted summer bungalows. On weekends and special family events like Holy Communions and Catholic Confirmations they celebrate in the White Whale Restaurant on the side of one of the canals. And I wonder if it’s still there now.

What do you here? I asked her. She had a cell phone that was actually working. Ours wasn’t, and the hotel phones were all dead. “I heard that the height of the water in the streets is now over five feet, and it’s rising. It’s going to go over six feet. It is. There are no more boats in Seaford,” she said. “They’re all gone now and nobody knows where they went, probably out to the Great South Bay.” True or partly true, her last statement sounding so sure, put a cold chill in me, a profound sadness.

 

Stories coming in

 

I can’t ever bear to listen to the stories or see the pictures of what happened to the Rockaways, to Long Beach, to Staten Island, to Gerritson Beach in Brooklyn . And the total destruction of Breezy Point, left to look like Dresden now after the war. And all that beauty gone now, the beauty of the two-mile boardwalk of Jones Beach, and Long Beach, ripped up and looking like a roller coaster now. And memories come rushing back of drinking summer beers on the Rockaway Boardwalk when I was young and slow dancing with Irish nurses in Fitzgerald’s bar on 108th Street to Tommy Edward’s “It’s All in the Game,” so safe then in their arms.

 

“We were first generation Irish stock whose roots started in places like the city of Galway where my father was born in an attached house on the Long Walk, a fishing village, and my grandmother was a fisher woman. Tough Irish who lived off the sea.”

 

And the White House bar drinking with Jacky Malone from Windsor Terrace, and the Irish Circle.  It seemed like we were always laughing then, so young, so hopeful of our futures. And why wouldn’t we be? We were educated in Windsor Terrace’s Holy Name parochial school, and we were educated on the streets of 17th Street and 9th Avenue.

And we were first generation Irish stock whose roots started in places like the city of Galway where my father was born in an attached house on the Long Walk, a fishing village, and my grandmother was a fisher woman. Tough Irish who lived off the sea. Some, like my grandfather,  died from it. They even had their own “Fisher King” who watched the markets each morning where the woman sold fish. And my mother lived in a thatched cottage with a house full of kids on a pig farm in nearby Willamstown, a small farming village that didn’t get electricity until the mid 1950s when she was long gone to America’s Brooklyn.

Stories coming in from as far away as Spring Lake, New Jersey, now, another “Irish Riviera.” They’re from my first cousin Jo Ann McGuirk and her husband Eddy. “The board walk is all gone now,” she says. It’s a huge pile, a mountain of summer memories and loss, pushed together next to the Jersey Shore by pay loaders. Yesterday as I was driving alone down Merrick Road the Billy Joel song came on with the lyrics, “Seen the lights go out on Broadway, I saw the Empire State laid low..”, and I had to bite hard on my lip not to cry.

After it all happened, one of my first thoughts was, I want to be in a safe place again. I thought about how great it would be to stand in Farrell’s Bar on 16th Street in the old neighborhood, beer in hand, talking to Jacky Malone, a retired cop that I grew up with on 17th Street. He never left the neighborhood. And some afternoons you’ll find him still standing down next to the side entrance of the bar where we drank together so long ago when we were young. And as soon as I get my feet back on the ground, I’m going to rush right back there and do that. It’s always home there for me, always home.

 

 

Massive hunt after Garda is gunned down

POSTED ON February 5th  - POSTED IN News & Views

Garda-jpg

By Sean Lehane

A massive manhunt continues in Ireland this week after a Garda detective was ruthlessly gunned down outside Dundalk, County Louth during a robbery of money being moved from a credit union to a bank.

Garda Adrian Donohoe was shot in the head as he and a colleague approached the robbery gang. The detectives had been escorting the money shipment. The shooting took place after dark. Detective Donohoe was armed but reportedly had not drawn his weapon when he was shot.

The shooting took place during a robbery of Lordship Credit Union in Bellurgan, Jenkinstown. The thieves got away with just €4,000 and left €40,00 at the scene.

The money was part of a cash collection from four credit unions in the area which Donohoe and his colleague were escorting to be deposited in a bank in Dundalk.

Gardaí say that at least four men were involved in the robbery. The gang members were armed with a shotgun, handgun and hammer; they had their faces covered and were wearing tracksuits. A car found burned out in South Armagh across the border is thought to have been the getaway car.

Detective Garda Donohoe’s widow Caroline and two brothers also serve in the force. He leaves behind a son and daughter. Local Gardaí have returned early from leave to help catch the killers.

Detectives are working on the theory that the robbery was carried out by criminals and not dissident republicans.

The gang blocked the exit of the credit union car park and shot Garda Donohoe, 41, in the head when he got out of his car. Detective Garda Joe Ryan was held at gunpoint while the robbery took place.

Garda Commissioner Martin Callinan said there were up to four people involved in the raid.

“How many were involved beyond that will remain to be seen,” he said. “We will put all our energy into finding out precisely who was behind this robbery.

“It is too early to speculate whether there was a subversive element to this or whether they are ordinary criminals.”

TD for County Louth, Gerry Adams, condemned the killing.

“I am shocked at this crime. I extend my deepest sympathies to his family and colleagues and appeal to those with information about this crime to co-operate with the gardaí.”

The funeral of Detective Garda Donohoe will take place in Dundalk on Wednesday.

The parish priest of Lordship and Ballymascanlon said the community is still in shock with what happened.

 

Historic evening

POSTED ON February 5th  - POSTED IN News & Views

ST.-BRIDGID'S

 

By Peter McDermott

The quiet conversations in the line outside St. Brigid’s were mainly in Spanish. Then a teenage choir member bounded towards an open side door.  “If you can’t get in,” she shouted in English to a friend behind her, “call me!”

Most waiting on Sunday evening wondered if they would be in the congregation for St. Brigid’s reopening Mass. The crowd was huge around the corner on 8th Street.

Ed Torres, an usher before the church was closed in 2001 and a prominent activist in the campaign to save it, emerged from the front door to reassure people: “You will all be let in momentarily,” he said.

When a reporter relayed this message to Sonia Maldanado on 8th Street, she said: “I hope so.”  Her children were baptized in the historic church on Avenue B, and made their first communions and were confirmed there.

New Jersey-based author and academic Christine Kinealy said she came in for the opening because of its links to the Famine but also because “it’s such a great story to hear that it was rescued and restored.”

Gina Sheehan, Carmel McCarthy and Alice Sullivan were there from the LAOH, Div. 6. “The biggest question we’ve been discussing is: who is the donor?” said one of them. “I’d like to meet him and marry him,” said another.

Madeline (De Martino) De Amicis came in from Staten Island with her husband John. Her parents were married there as were her aunts and uncles, and a grandparent founded the Holy Name Society.

Mike Guedes, who was in line holding a toddler, had came down from Putnam County. His mother-in-law is a parishioner at St. Emeric’s, which was merging officially with the new St. Brigid’s. Was he confident of getting in with his family? “We’ll see what happens,” he said.

Bridget and James Cagney from Woodside started lighting candles in St. Brigid’s after they arrived in America in 1967. “I was so excited last night, I couldn’t sleep,” Bridget Cagney said. “Even if we don’t get in, just to experience this is wonderful.”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” said Guedes, who was standing in front of her.

In the end, everyone did get in, filling the 650-capacity building. They were delighted with what they saw and experienced. Those who had campaigned to save the church were so overjoyed that they weren’t too bothered by what one described as the official “Soviet-style rewriting of St. Brigid’s history.”

“It was lovely,” was the most commonly heard summation of the Mass and the evening.

Home after cheating death in Algeria

POSTED ON January 30th  - POSTED IN News & Views

\

By Anthony Neeson

aneeson@irishecho.com

A Belfast man who survived last week’s Algerian hostage crisis has returned home to his family.

Stephen McFaul (36) from Andersonstown in the west of the city had explosives strapped to his neck during his captivity when Islamist militants took over the gas plant where he worked in In Amenas.

Releasing a statement through the Police Service of Northern Ireland on Monday night, McFaul said his thoughts were with those who died. Latest figures suggest at least 37 foreign hostages from eight different countries were killed during the four day operation to free those held.

Mr. McFaul escaped from his captors on the second day of the hostage drama.

His break for freedom happened after Semtex explosives were strapped to the Belfast man and several other hostages, this before they were put in a number of four wheel drive vehicles by their captors.

When this convoy tried to leave the compound Algerian attack helicopters opened fire with guns and rockets.

Mr. McFaul later told his family that four vehicles were hit by the bombardment. His own crashed, allowing him and others to escape.

Brian McFaul said his brother phoned his wife Angela as soon as he was released to tell her he was safe and had been taken to a secure location.

“She said: ‘Stephen’s free, he’s going to phone the house here, now’.”

“At this stage we don’t know how he gained his freedom, whether he was let go or he escaped.”

He said Stephen’s 13-year-old son Dylan went through a lot during the hours of his father’s captivity.

“He found it hard to sleep and was worrying. The poor child went through a lot for somebody his age for the past 48 hours. It has been hard for us all, not knowing from one moment to the next whether he was still alive or not.”

Brian McFaul said the family had received support from the Irish government’s Department of Foreign Affairs Department and Sinn Féin West Belfast MP, Paul Maskey.

Tánasite Eamon Gilmore said: “I am extremely thankful and relieved to learn that the Irish national who was a hostage in Algeria has made contact with his family and is safe.

“I spoke with his family yesterday, and I know how relieved they will be that he is well after his ordeal. This is the news that we all wanted to hear. At the same time, my thoughts are with the other oil-field workers who are caught up in this terrible situation and with their families who are also waiting for news at this difficult time.

West Belfast MP, Paul Maskey, said he was delighted that Stephen was free.

“There is huge relief that he is safe and well. He has been very much in the thoughts and prayers of the West Belfast community who will also be delighted with this good news. Our thoughts are with the other hostages’ families and especially those that have lost loved ones throughout the whole episode.

“The McFaul family are now looking forward to having him home and want to thank everyone for their support, best wishes and prayers.”

 

 

Al Smith IV dons his sash

POSTED ON January 30th  - POSTED IN News & Views

Al-jpg

By Ray O’Hanlon

rohanlon@irishecho.com

Alfred E. Smith IV was installed as Grand Marshal of the 252nd annual New York City St. Patrick’s Day Parade on Thursday evening of last week at a ceremony in the New York Athletic Club in Manhattan.

Smith used the opportunity to pay homage to his great grandfather Al Smith, four-term New York governor, U.S. presidential candidate and the parade grand marshal in 1925.

Describing his famed great grandfather as a man who was a friend to everyone, the 2013 grand marshal thanked all in the room for the honor bestowed on him and said he was greatly looking forward to leading this year’s parade, which will take place on Saturday, March 16 – this as the New York march never takes place on a Sunday.

“I am honored to follow in my great grandfather’s footsteps leading the Irish community up Fifth Avenue on March 16th in what is known as the greatest parade in the world,” said Smith.     Fourteen aides to the grand marshal for this year’s parade were also introduced and honored at the installation.

Cardinal Edward Egan, grand marshal in 2002, began the ceremony with an invocation; Dr. John Lahey, vice chairman of the parade and president of Quinnipiac University, introduced all of the honored guests, while Hilary Beirne, chairman of the St Patrick’s Day Foundation, and executive secretary of the parade committee, addressed the audience concerning the establishment of the fundraising foundation and outlined some of the future aspirations for the parade.

Parade committee chairman, John Dunleavy, presented Mr. Smith with the official grand marshal’s Sash on an evening that also included an address to the gathering by Irish Consul General in New York, Noel Kilkenny.

The parade, which this year will be dedicated to the Covenant House children’s charity, starts at 44th Street and proceeds to 79th Street on Fifth Avenue. It will step off on March 16 at 11 a.m.

 

 

 

POSTED ON January 30th  - POSTED IN News & Views

Frank-Mccourt-9391286-1-sized

Frank McCourt, in the wake of his success with “Angela’s Ashes,” felt that any Irish person who fails to jot down his or her story was beyond an eejit.

So what are you waiting for?

I didn’t set out to write my own memoir, “Green Suede Shoes.” Truth is, I was having problems following-up a mildly successful novel when my publisher suggested that I throw a few stories around a dozen Black 47 songs and use the result as a stop-gap.

One thing led to another and after a couple of tales I found myself shoveling through the murky past trying to make sense of an un-sensible life. Unbeknownst, however, I had overcome the first major hurdle to all memoir writing – where to begin?

Right at the beginning, says you! Fair enough, but it’s a rough old trek uphill when your first sentence is, “I was born in the back streets of Ballyhaunis” or “I drew my first breath in Brooklyn.”

I would suggest that you don the old thinking cap and hone in on the first event in your life that continues to have an ongoing effect on you. I was lucky in that I had already written a song, “Life’s Like That, Isn’t It,” about waiting with my mother for my father’s return home from sea.

It was a beautiful summer morning and as the three of us walked up the Main Street of old Wexford town I heard a long lonely trumpet note and a few steps later saw a guitar in a shop window. Crazy as it may seem, I might not be writing this had it not been for that morning stroll.

I bet something similar happened in your life; you just have to dig deeply enough. If you already know then it’s time you got out the pen and paper or fired up the computer.

You’ll be amazed at what you’ll uncover. The revelations will be painful, joyous, humbling and even hilarious, but they will never be less than interesting, especially as you veer off on tangents you had forgotten existed.

Things will begin to make sense; now and then you’ll even find that adjustments can be made to your current compass, moral and otherwise.

One dilemma you’ll hit early on: how truthful should you be, for full disclosure will hurt many of those around you – and is unvarnished truth worth the pain you’ll cause?

I don’t think so; besides you’ll be up to your neck dealing with the truth about yourself. To paraphrase Pete Seeger – what you leave out may improve what you decide to leave in.

Now you may consider that you have no writing skills to speak of and you may be right. But I guarantee that by the time you get to the end of your story your penmanship will have improved markedly, and you will look at other writers with a new appreciation.

On the other hand, the very slow, methodical act of writing will cause you to question facts that you have always taken for granted. Memory is, indeed, subjective; and anyway, even in autobiography one should never let awkward details get in the way of a good tale. A little seasoning only adds to the stew.

You may never write an “Angela’s Ashes” but you will tell your story – and even more importantly – leave an account of your family history. How many times have you heard the lament – “if only I had asked my parents or grandparents while they were alive?”

In this age of haste and anxiety we have barely time to ask the time of day, and God save us if the jolting vapidity of Facebook and Twitter become the sole narrative of our family history.

Maybe Frank McCourt wasn’t referring to fame or money at all when he declared that every Irish person should write a memoir. Perhaps he meant that in the act of confronting our lives we simply leave an echo of our times for those who come behind us.

Groups still pressing in BC case

POSTED ON January 30th  - POSTED IN News & Views

By Irish Echo Staff

letters@irishecho.com

Against the backdrop of President’s Obama’s new term and the new Congress, the coalition of Irish-American groups to the fore in the Boston College archives case is, according to a statement, “vigorously pursuing their three year campaign to convince Attorney General Eric H. Holder and Secretary of State Clinton that the British request for Irish records at Boston College is wrong.’

The request “constitutes a violation of the U.S.-U.K. Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty, violates American values of justice, contradicts British assurances and undermines the Irish peace process which is the settled public policy of three U.S presidents,” said the leaders of the AOH, IAUC and Brehon Law Society.

“We recognize that Britain is a valued partner in the investigation and prosecution of major money laundering, drug trafficking and terrorist crimes. This request, however, for records in Boston College, and presumably in aid of a 1972 criminal investigation that never happened, is a misuse of MLAT and an abuse of American goodwill and trust,” stated Ancient Order of Hibernians National President, Brendan Moore.

Robert Dunne, President of the Brehon Law Society added: “Just last month Prime Minister Cameron described the Police Service of northern Ireland collaboration with loyalist terrorists in 1989 to kill attorney Patrick Finucane as “shocking” and “appalling”. This is the police force that has requested these subpoenas. Until the re-hiring of retired PSNI officers (some of whom may well have been in on the collusion to kill Finucane), the PSNI had shown more transparency and professionalism. This request suggests the ‘bad old days’ have returned.”

The President of the Irish-American Unity Conference, Thomas J. Burke Jr., who is an attorney based in Denver, observed: “The ‘special relationship’ invariably comes under the most stress and closest scrutiny when Britain’s actions or inaction in Ireland are involved.

But this episode is purely an American issue. We are asking Mr. Holder not to rubber stamp the request, but to scrutinize more carefully the purposes of MLAT and to engage in a more in depth dialogue with the Department of State as MLAT provides.”

Litigation involving the researchers of the Belfast Project and Boston College in opposition to the request of Attorney General Holder argues not only that this request is a misuse of MLAT, but that important constitutionally protected academic and journalistic freedoms are also involved. A Writ of Certiorari is currently being reviewed in the 1st Circuit Court of Appeals.

Extreme voices can drown out the center

POSTED ON January 28th  - POSTED IN News & Views

487px-File-Official_roberts_CJ_cropped

By Terry Golway

When most of us hear about political extremists, we immediately think of the Middle East or other areas of the world where fanatics have hijacked politics and/or the government.

But if you’ve been paying attention, you know that extremism isn’t confined to any single region of the world. Heck, it’s all around us, and it’s getting worse.

Extremists in the north of Ireland are saying all sorts of crazy things because the Union flag has gone missing from Belfast City Hall. The other day the BBC interviewed a couple of angry, dour lads who insisted that it was time to rip up the Good Friday Agreement.

Really? So, the only alternative is a return to war? Has it come to that?

Over on this side of the Atlantic, extremists are calling for the impeachment of Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts because he apparently plans to go through with administering the oath of office to Barack Obama on Inauguration Day.

According to a fellow named Craig McMillan, Roberts should not administer the oath because Obama is not eligible for the presidency. Ah, you’ve heard this one before, right? It’s the whole Obama-is-a-Kenyan conspiracy, right?

Wrong – it’s far more extreme, if you can believe that. McMillan and his fellow militants are now making the argument that Obama is not a natural-born citizen of the United States not because he was born in Kenya – they’ve apparently given up on that one – but because his father was not born in the United States.

McMillan and other sad, angry extremists across the nation have now come up with a new argument that even the Know-Nothings of the 1850s didn’t make: A person whose father (but not mother – it’s the father’s “line” that matters, they say) was born in another country is not a “natural-born citizen,” even if that person was, in fact, born in the United States.

So those of you who were born in the USA but whose fathers were born in Monaghan or Dublin or Tipperary, remember this: you may think you’re a natural-born citizen of the United States, but you’re not, at least not according to the extremists out there.

And if you’re not a true natural-born citizen, well, if the extremists have their way, you’ll be sent back to where you came from – rather, where your father came from.

The folks who want to bring back the bad old days in Belfast may not seem to have much in common with the birther extremists of the United States, but they do. It’s called anger.

Extreme anger.

And while they may represent fringe points of view, they need to be taken seriously, because extremists have ways of influencing politics and government out of proportion to their numbers.

The extreme wing of the pro-choice movement, after all, drowns out the voices of those who are far more ambivalent about abortion, just as the extremists of the National Rifle Association are far more likely to control the debate over gun violence than more-moderate gun owners.

What is the source of all this anger and vitriol? In both Ireland and the U.S., it surely is the residue of change. When you hear loyalist anger in the North, you’re hearing an echo of the laments of Lord Beresford, a member of parliament who lost his seat in the historic by-election in County Waterford in 1826.

“When I was a boy,” his lordship wrote after he was defeated by the forces of Catholic emancipation, “the Irish people meant the Protestants; now it means the

Roman Catholics.”

The dramatic changes which Daniel O’Connell achieved in Catholic Ireland in the 1820s are now unfolding in the loyalist bastions of the North. Catholics, long treated as second-class citizens, are finally exerting power in proportion to their numbers. Some people in Belfast are as befuddled as Lord Beresford was. They want to go back to a time when they were in charge.

Similarly, the extreme birthers see power slipping out of the hands of what Bill O’Reilly called the traditional white establishment (a group that was never particularly keen on people with names like O’Reilly).

They may well have honorable differences of opinion with Barack Obama, but at the end of the day, they simply can’t stand the thought of a black man in the White House. So they see him as an interloper, as not a “real” American.

Worse yet, they are making the provocative argument that nobody whose father was born elsewhere is a legitimate natural-born American citizen. That sort of nonsense can lead to all kinds of mischief as the nation begins, once again, to debate immigration reform.

So don’t simply dismiss the extremists. They have ways of making their power known.

 

 

Family Power

POSTED ON January 18th  - POSTED IN News & Views

tess5

Sandy aid from Chicago Lakefront to Jersey Shore

By Ray O’Hanlon

Congress might be reluctant to pony up for Sandy relief but, as has been evident in recent weeks, huge numbers of regular folk have been only too willing to give their time, energy and money to those whose lives were turned upside down by the storm.

Add two more to that roll of honor, one a New Jersey college student, the other her aunt in Chicago.

Tess McGuire, a 20 year-old Rockaway native and student at the College of New Jersey, is the director of fundraising for NJ Strong. This is when she is not studying for final exams, or working at a pet store in Ewing.

On weekends, Tess assists fellow Rockaway native Lindsay Donald and her brother Stephen, who together formed NJ Strong (NJ Strong.net) – this after Lindsay created a Facebook page to gauge interest in assisting in hurricane relief.

The response was overwhelming, so in order to keep things legitimate, and show their seriousness, they applied to become an incorporated non-profit organization.

Much of their effort has been directed towards cleaning up and delivering supplies gathered at drives that NJ Strong has organized.

NJ Strong, according to a release, is committed to bringing people to the Jersey Shore to do cleanup every weekend until the job is done.

These “Warrior Weekends,” said the release, have been growing and the organization has mobilized about 200 volunteers in five different locations and has worked on preparing 30 homes for reconstruction.

Hundreds of miles away in Chicago, meanwhile, Tess’s aunt and godmother, Kathy O’Neill, was horrified by the images she saw of the storm. O’Neill, a West Orange, New Jersey native, loved to visit the Jersey Shore when she was young and lived for a few summers in Wildwood Crest.

After the storm, O’Neill was concerned about her family and her many friends who live on the east coast.

As a publicist, stage manager, and large-scale special events producer, she knew she could tap into her many friends who were performers and ask them to help.

Her fundraiser, “From Lake Shore to the Jersey Shore” was held before Christmas in Chicago. It raised $1,700 on the night with more donations promised. O’Neill gathered musicians, actors and performers for a cabaret-style evening to support victims to support some of the areas hardest hit by Sandy. All donations were slated to go to the FoodBank of Ocean and Monmouth Counties.

“I’m proud of Tess and her friends at NJ Strong. Everyone in Chicago who knows me knows how proud I am of growing up in New Jersey and what a big part of my life it is. A benefit is the very least I can do, for now,” O’Neill, who is also Public Relations Manager for Chicago’s Irish American Heritage Center, told the Echo.

Back to Top