All Among The Quality, New York

Tompkins Square, New York

For most of August, I was roaming up and down the East Coast of the U.S. in pursuit of the bright trail of "Dynamite" Johnny's ghost. My first port of call had to be where Johnny drew his first breath-by the banks of the East River in New York. Almost as soon as he could walk, Johnny was trundling down to the Dry Dock offering his services to whoever would have him. He learned his trade lending a hand, getting up, out, and among the denizens of the old Dry Dock of Manhattan's East River. Many a time he'd be seen running headlong to the East River to work with his brother Peter who ran a sailing ferry between Greenpoint in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

A drawing by John O' Leary for the first illustrated sequence of "A Captain Unafraid"

In Manhattan's "Lower East Side" lies Tompkins Square-the heart of “Dynamite” Johnny’s childhood stomping ground, Johnny even raised his own family a few blocks from its leafy cover. My own first entrance into the park had some ominous omens-while resting my legs on the first bench I saw, a rat leapt out from behind my chosen place of respite. I looked to my left and on the seat beside me was an empty bullet casing. Well, all this grit and gloom, if the truth be told (even though I’ve haven’t yet lied) is from another era. Once upon a time the Lower East Side occupied the lowest rung on the social ladder; it was where it all began for immigrants, the only way was up, the only way was any damned way at all, 'cause it all started here.

Riots have occurred in Tompkins square almost every generation since it was opened back in 1834. The most recent riots kicked off for many reasons, one being, locals felt they were being driven out of their neighbourhood by rising rent and property prices. I read somewhere too, that "it was a hot summer night and the cops were young."

If you want to rest awhile in Tompkin's Square's public houses, Its got some swank joints, dives, and many's the place in between, one of our favourites spots for a drink and a feed was "Miss Lily's Jamaican Restaurant." Gentrified, possibly, Dynamite, for sure!

Miss Lily's, Tompkins Square

Since the 60’s the neighbourhood has been predominantly Puerto Rican. Billy ("A Captain Unafraid's" sound-man) and myself, almost started a scuffle "The Cape-man" of old would have been embroiled in. We were told by a local kid that the street corner we were resting our weary bones on was “A Puerto Rican Neighbourhood,” he apologised almost as soon as he’d threatened blood and blamed it all on the booze, telling us swiftly, “All men are created equal man, you have a good day, been drinking all day man.”

The Cape-man and Umbrella man

Father Patrick Maloney was one of the most colourful characters we met on our jaunt through Alphabet City. Father Pat has long been making sure some of the Lower East Side's turf is still green, safe, and fit for Paddies, and indeed, any other race that come under his care. Pat has been a stalwart of Tompkin's Square for many's the year, in fact, he emigrated here from Limerick, Ireland, back in the 1950’s. In the 70’s Pat became a Melkite-a Byzantine “Eastern Order” Priest, and has been an activist firmly planted in and among the community ever since. Pat is a controversial figure but is well regarded by the locals and has done some trojan work to earn that respect over the years. He is certainly not just preaching from the pulpit; he is out on the street working in his community. "Bonita's House" is the homeless shelter Father Pat opened in 1961 and has been running since. Besides his day to day work in the Parish, the dedicated and singleminded priest has been involved, or associated with: IRA gun runners and gun runnings, Black Panthers, quelling the Tompkins Square Riots, and the odd appearance at the pulpit of St. Patrick's Cathedral where he told us “they were once foolish enough to let me preach.” While out of his own stomping ground up among the quality of St. Patrick's on 5th Avenue, he paid tribute to “the only legitimate army in Ireland at the time, the I.R.A.”

" Mother Jones" from Father Pat's Stairwell

In 2011 the New York Times quoted Father Pat as saying "I never broke a law, but have circumvented most of them." Dynamite Johnny once said that "Any man that can't disobey an order ain't worth shucks," and perhaps, more tellingly, "In the course of this long warfare I was several times arrested for filibustering, but never convicted; so, under our law, which presumes every man to be innocent until he is proven guilty, it must be considered that I am entirely innocent of the high crimes and misdemeanours to which I here confess for the first time; until now I never have told a word of what I have done or how I did it."

Father Pat Maloney, 9th Street, Lower East Side

The subtitle of Johnny's ghost written autobiography "A Captain Unafraid" is "The Strange Adventures of 'Dynamite' Johnny O' Brien," and following in Johnny's wake has certainly proved strange. Father Pat has lived the past half century a stone's throw from the house where Johnny spent his boyhood days. This 2011 New York Times article written about Father Pat is entitled "A Priest Unafraid of Trouble." The title of the first chapter of Johnny's autobiography is "The Lure of Troubled Waters." The production company I put together for the purposes of filming our documentary is called "Trouble or Fortune Films." I hadn't heard of Father Pat until we landed in New York, so the unusually titled New York Times article on him, replete with allusions to gunrunning galore, came as quite a surprise to me, especially considering the tome "A Captain Unafraid" is mainly concerned with the act of filibustering, which is defined as "carrying out insurrectionist activities in a foreign country."

"I ain't afraid of any living thing" is something Johnny once declared. When asked his opinion on death, he said "I never feared that imminent deadly breach, because I always had that old fashioned belief in God."

While filming in McSorley's Old Ale House, which has many a ghost of its own, we met the above Ukrainian American Marine, who, when asked his own opinions on fear said "I'm not afraid of anything, my only emotions are loyalty and honor to God and my Country.... and Erin go Bragh." Dynamite Johnny, when not out on the ocean, was dressed every bit as dapper as the man in the image above, his eyes were as blue, and his moustache was every bit as bushy as Billy Beck's, who was born in 1937 and grew up on 9th street on the Lower East Side, Dynamite Johnny was born and grew up on 10th street on the Lower East Side and was born in 1837.

Another notable point of reference on our ghostly tour, was the spot where Johnny drew his last breath: "Hotel America." 105 East 15th Street is the address of that venerable spot, and surprisingly, the building is still extant. We visited the place where, before Johnny passed, he whispered "bury me by the sea." Johnny's great-granddaughters were with us too, they travelled to New York from Arkansas.

Cynthia East and Kristin Agar, Hotel America, 105 East 15th Street

One of the last watering holes we wet our whistles at was The Ear Inn, where we were fed and watered hospitably and profusely. We conducted our interview with Dynamite Johnny's great-granddaughter's (Cynthia and Kristin) above the bar, in what now doubles as a living room and Psychotherapist's office. I'm sure it has served many's the salty purpose besides over the centuries.

The Ear Inn, Spring Street, New York

The Ear Inn was built in 1817, back when it was "James Brown's House." It used to be so close to the sea that you'd fall into Neptune's watery embrace if you fell out the Saloon's doors. Nowadays it's about 100m from the Hudson River. Many's the ghostly apparition has wandered the Ear Inn and environs. Another strange situation that befell us concerned one of the owners, Martin Sheridan, and his nephew, Gary. The Ear Inn is situated just a short moonlight ramble from our own boarding house which was on Wooster Street. When we first stumbled upon the bar we met barkeep Gary Sheridan. Gary's family comes from County Cavan, and are a direct line back to General Sheridan of U.S. Civil War fame.

Billy lighting up General Sheridan's armpit, Christopher Square Park, New York

For those of you unfamiliar with rudimentary "Dynamite" genealogy, Johnny is directly related to General Sheridan, through his mother Bridget Sheridan! Johnny's parents, as Johnny states in A Captain Unafraid, "were friends and neighbours, and indeed, related to the parents of General Philip Sheridan." Gary, indeed, has the look of Johnny about him, burly, blue eyed, generous to a fault, the sort of man who'd be hard to deck in a fight, but, if you did, he'd probably get up and buy you a drink, applaud you with a roguish smile, before laying you out cold!

Screenplay Extract

Below is an extract from a screenplay I've been writing about Dynamite Johnny's life. For anyone that thinks I've lost the plot (so to speak), this is not "A Captain Unafraid" the documentary, but rather a movie screenplay I've been toying with for fun the last few years. Extracts from the screenplay will form part of the book perk - "An Illustrated Miscellany Concerning 'Dynamite' Johnny O' Brien." To order your copy of that perk and help me set the "A Captain Unafraid" boat afloat, go to  -

 FADE IN:

               INT. A STUDY IN HAVANA, CUBA, 1912 -  EVENING

              

               The shutters are open, on the street voices converse and laugh. We look onto 

               the rooftops of Havana.

                                   JOHNNY (O.S.)

                         After all, what is bravery, if not an inborn

                         quality–the heritage of clean lives, of

                         fighting blood and un-weakened nerves?

                         The world is full of it. And if some portion

                         of this heritage has been mine I am

                         grateful, for in my warring days (and there

                         were many of them) I should many times

                         have found myself without delay in Davy's

                         locker. 

               "DYNAMITE" JOHNNY O' BRIEN, a small, stocky sea-captain, 72, and the

               ghost writer of his autobiography, HORACE SMITH, 67, are in Johnny's

               study. Johnny is standing up, Horace sits down, pen in hand, writing

               down Johnny's spoken word. 

                                   JOHNNY (CONT'D)

                         Bravery is confined to no longitude or

                         latitude, and knows no race. I have found

                         brave men everywhere, as will presently be

                         told and it was my fortune to be intimately

                         associated with some of the best of them.

                                   HORACE

                                   (smiling)

                         And what of the beginnings of your time

                         on Gods green earth?

               Johnny pauses, strokes his beard slowly and sips his coffee.

                                   JOHNNY

                         Well it wasn't so much green, as gray,

                         black, and coal, with a flash of blue. 

                                                                                                              FADE TO:

                                                                 

               EXT. NEW YORKS DOCKSIDE, 1837  - DAY

               A view of New York's docks with seagulls crying and industry all about.

               We gradually move in on one abode on a residential street. We see the

               spars and masts of boats docked in the distance, the sound of an infant

               crying mixes with the cry of seagulls.

                                   JOHNNY (V.O.)

                         I myself, was born in the old "Dry Dock"

                         section of New York, almost on the bank of

                         the East river, on April 20, 1837. My

                         parents though, came from County

                         Longford, Ireland. In Ireland, my father

                         was a farmer, in America he became a

                         machinist. I was born in a cradle of

                         shipyards: Webb's, Browns, Westervelt's,

                         they were clustered all about. Amid such

                         surroundings I was predisposed to a life on

                         the sea, and a love of salt water and ships

                         came naturally. All around me was echoes of

                         the ocean, near by my childhood home was the

                         Morgan iron-works, where boilers were

                         built. But there were few steamships in

                         those days; sailors were sailors then, and

                         machinists stayed ashore. Tapering spars

                         crisscrossed the skyline, and romance was

                         in the air. The first thing I saw, when I

                         opened my eyes was a vessel, and almost

                         the next thing the sea. Maybe, I saw other

                         things too, but none of them held my

                         interest; ships and the sea impressed my

                         infantile mind as the most beautiful things

                         in the world, and my opinion has never

                         changed.

               INT. JOHNNY'S CHILDHOOD HOME, EAST RIVER, NEW YORK, 1837 -

               Johnny's Mother BRIDGET lies in her bed, exhausted from childbirth. The

               bed faces a window which looks out onto masts of ships in the distance,

               and the sea beyond. ELIZABETH SHERIDAN, the midwife, is a close friend

               of BRIDGET'S. After washing him, Elizabeth brings Johnny into the arms

               of his mother, he stops crying. PETER, Johnny's father, waits outside.

                                   ELIZABETH 

                         He's a fine and healthy child Bridget. 

               Bridget cradles her child fondly. Peter enters the room and goes to pick up

               his son from Bridget.

                                   PETER 

                             (happily)

                             Let me see my son, show him

                              here to me.

               Johnny begins crying once in his fathers arms.

                                   PETER (CONT'D)

                         He's letting us know he's arrived. There's

                         no fear on him, he's a fine set of lungs. 

               EXT. JOHNNY'S CHILDHOOD HOME, 1838  - DAY

               Johnny's mother is hanging washing, she is singing the song-  "An Raibh

               Tú i gCill Alla?" Johnny's older brother PETER JR. waltzes about with a

               paper boat-pretending to float it on the sea-he weaves in and out of the

               drying clothes. Johnny as an infant is hanging in a cradle attached to the 

               clothes line. We move with the washing on the line, like a boat bobbing on the

               ocean. We change to Johnny's perspective-a vision of blue sky and

               washing on the line. The blue sky: like an ocean, to-ing and fro-ing.

                                   JOHNNY (V.O.)

                         And the ocean to's and fro's as the child's

                         cradle rocks. The sky too is like a blue

                         ocean, a strange mirror of the sea. I was

                         always entranced by the unhemmed

                         vastness of the sea, and the skies are much

                         the same, for who knows what lies just

                         beyond our vision in that wild blue yonder.

                         I was surely bewitched from an early age

                         by that wily siren they call the sea. And my

                         brothers too heard her call.

               I/E. BOATHOUSE, GREENPOINT, 1851 - DAY

               From the pier we can see the doors to a small secluded boathouse are

               open. PETER JR. (Johnny's brother) and Johnny are working on a little

               sailing boat. It is summer, the scene is pastoral and verdant. We move

               inside to the boathouse.

                                   PETER JR.

                             (wiping his brow)

                         Pass me that hammer John.

               Johnny passes Peter the hammer.

                                   JOHNNY

                         Did you ever want to sail home to Ireland?

                                   PETER JR.

                         No John, I'm lucky out with my lot here. 

                             (smiling at John)

                         Both yourself and myself. Hell this is our

                         home.

                                   JOHNNY

                         I'd like to go over the ocean, maybe see

                         where we came from. 

                                   PETER JR.

                         I seen enough of the damned place, I was

                         just about your age when we left. 

                                   JOHNNY

                         Was just thinking.

                                   PETER JR.

                         Think away boy. You want to know why

                         we came to New York?

                                   JOHNNY

                         I've heard Pete, I'm his son too. 

                             (in a droll mocking tone)

                         Us and the Sheridans were fighting the

                         Redcoats, and after we all lost, 

                             (smiling starting to laugh)

                         Dad had enough of it and said let's

                         skedaddle, let's go off to America. There

                         ain't no Redcoats there!

                                   PETER JR.

                             (smiling)

                         You're all in the know now.

               They work for a while, but Johnny gets more restless.

                                   JOHNNY

                         Can I take a break Pete, I'm getting a bit

                         stir crazy here, not to mention beat.

                                   PETER JR.

                             (smiling and sweating)

                         Alright, we've been working long enough,

                         let's both of us take a rest. You're like an

                         old fella aren't you? Whatever happened to  

                         vigour of youth and the like. You'll be

                         complaining of back ache and old bones

                         next. We might manage another hour in a

                         while, what do you say?

               Peter hits the side of the boat.

                                   PETER JR. (CONT'D)

                         I'd love to have her up an running soon

                         enough. We were lucky to get the

                         use of this boathouse, best we use it as we

                         have it.

               They both walk outside the small boathouse and into the summer

               sunshine. Peter Jr. and Johnny sit down on the small dock by the

               boathouse. After a few seconds Johnny gets up and wanders off to the

               right of the boathouse, up a small overgrown incline. 

                                   PETER JR. (CONT'D)

                         No faffing around Johnny, we've got work

                         to do.

                                   JOHNNY

                             (as he walks off)

                         Alright Pete.

                                                                                                                    FADE TO:

               EXT. SMALL SPORADICALLY FORESTED PATH - MOMENTS LATER

               Johnny wanders along, lost in a daze, he mumbles to himself

               intermittently and low; sometimes it sounds like the beat of a song. Then

               the tune "Caniad Marwnad Ifan Ab y Gof" (played by Paul Dooley) starts to play, as

               the trees sway with the wind. Johnny walks lazily along for a while.

                                   PETER JR. 

                              Johnny!

               The music gradually starts to fade out after Peter roars, he has noticed an

               old mine shaft in the ground right in front of Johnny. Johnny stops in his

               track and looks behind at his brother, he then turns around and looks

               down-seeing the opening of an abandoned mining shaft, he almost slips

               into a 50 foot chasm. Taking a few steps back, shocked, he sits down in

               the tall grass. Peter Jr. jogs up to him. 

                                   PETER JR. (CONT'D)

                             (upset and angry)

                         I told you not to go wandering off. God

                         damn John. If I hadn't followed you.

                             (looking at the mine shaft)

                         Christ, trust you to find one of those. Come

                         on, let's go home, we've enough done for

                         today. I've to work tomorrow and you've

                         school, whatever good that is to you.

               Johnny gets up, he is visibly shaken, he says nothing. They walk off back

               the way they came. 

                                                                                                                     FADE TO:

               EXT. SMALL SAILBOAT ON THE HUDSON - LATER

               Johnny is still silent. 

                                   PETER JR.

                         Cat got your tongue? That's unlike you for

                         sure. Well, we might have finally knocked

                         some sense into you. 

               Peter pokes Johnny playfully.

                                   PETER JR. (CONT'D)

                             (laughing)

                         What do think John? Have we knocked

                         some sense into you.

               Johnny grunts at first, then starts to smile, then to laugh.

                                   PETER JR. (CONT'D)

                             (more serious but with a slight

                              hint of a smile)

                         Right, enough of that, or we may have a

                         watery grave to contend with rather than

                         a hole in the ground for one.                                                                  

               I/E. BOWERY AND FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK, ON THE STREET AND

               IN A TRAM - WEEKS LATER

               Johnny ambles down the street he is lost in his own thoughts as the

               world goes on around him. 

                                   JOHNNY (V.O.)

                         In those early days, a love of adventure

                         (and the verve that engendered), was my

                         one concern. I was constantly on the move,

                         and often drove my family to distraction

                         with my machinations.

               Johnny hums the air of the song "Bowery Gals." He starts walking faster

               and whistling more intently; until he starts singing the song. He runs

               down the street, singing. 

                                   JOHNNY (CONT'D)

                             (Singing and running)

                         As I was walking down the street down the

                         street, down the street, pretty little gal I

                         chanced to meet, and we danced by the

                         light of the moon. Bowery girls are sweet

                         and swell, sweet and swell...

               Four kids hang out at the side of the street. Johnny is running by. TALL KID #1

               stops Johnny in his tracks. 

                                   TALL KID #1

                         Hey, Where you running to? You running

                         from something? What you running from?

                                   JOHNNY 

                         Nothing.

                                   TALL KID #1

                             (squaring off to Johnny)

                         Whats the rush with you.

               Johnny kicks the kid in the shins, throws a punch at his right flank and

               scarpers. Johnny runs off down the street, all four kids race after him,

               shouting. He turns a corner the kids are still tailing him. Johnny jumps on

               a horse drawn tram that he sees just moving off, the kids count their

               losses and are left behind. Johnny sits down opposite JACK

               MONTGOMERY- a bearded sailor. Johnny stares at him for a while, Jack

               smiles back. People wait around in relative silence. Johnny stares at the

               sailor, after a time Jack speaks.

                                   JACK

                             (dramatically)

                         Were you ever out on the open sea?                                                               

                                   JOHNNY

                             (more dourly)

                         No sir. But I've been on the boats in the

                         harbour; my brother Peter works the ferry

                         boats, I know my way around his one sail

                         ferry boat. My father works as a machinist

                         on the docks, so I've barely seen a day

                         without a boat in it, though I've never been

                         out on the wide ocean. 

                                   JOHNNY (CONT'D)

                         You're a sailor I guess?

                                   JACK

                         Indeed I am.

               They pause, and the streets roll jauntily by. It is evening and the

               passengers are slightly lethargic, Jack talks to Johnny to relieve his

               boredom, there is a small hint of some other motive.

                                   JACK (CONT'D)

                             (light-heartedly smiling)

                         I am lately returned from Callao, Peru, on

                         the steamship Canton and intend to ship

                         out directly for that country again - 

                             (wide eyed)

                         a wild and wonderful place if I do say so

                         myself. I bet you've never seen such sights? 

                                   JOHNNY

                             (jokingly but with enthusiasm)

                         No, but I'm only 14. I work in the

                         shipyards after school, tend pitch pots,

                         wedge tree nails. I often wondered what

                         places those boats I work on end up in,

                         though I'm sure none ended up in Peru!

                         Once, one did sail to California though.

                         What sort of things did you see when you

                         travelled to Peru?

                                   JACK

                         We sailed to Peru from the South China

                         coast; but as for Callao, the port there is

                         teeming with all kinds of life, countless

                         tribes of people meet there. The colours seen

                         on the streets are as plentiful as the

                         languages been spoken. Besides the many

                         tongues of the natives; you can hear

                         Spanish, Chinese, German, Dutch. Oh! it's a

                         veritable tower of babel there. I suppose it's

                         like our own New York, but with more of

                         the Indian kind. And that's where I docked

                         my vessel, just a month past, while

                         transporting guano for the company of

                         Wetmore and Cryder. I met a man there

                         who had sailed up the Amazon, he

                         encountered a tribe that practiced

                         cannibalism, he was lucky to escape with

                         his life. And his own spared hide he owed,

                         on account that he had brought a shiny

                         mirror with him which they were quite

                         taken with. The sailor managed to escape

                         from his bonds, while they stared wide

                         eyed into it, and he ran down to the river

                         bank to where his recently sequestered

                         boat was still waiting.

                                   JOHNNY

                         So you captain your own ship?

                                   JACK

                         Indeed I do. I am captain and sailor,

                         warden and jailor. 

               They pause again, looking out at the streets rolling by and the evening rolling in.

                                   JACK (CONT'D)

                         So what's your name boy?

                                   JOHNNY

                         Johnny O' Brien, Sir. Pleased to meet you.

                                   JACK 

                             (smiling wide-eyed)

                         And Pleased to meet you too. My own name

                         is Jack Montgomery.

                                   JOHNNY 

                         How did you come to be a sailor?

                                   JACK

                         When the sea calls you must obey. It's a

                         calling of sorts, If I do say so. But, the

                         freedom that blue ocean engenders, and

                         the far-flung ports it carries you to, more

                         than makes up for the hard graft.

                         Even as a lowly cabin boy, I escaped the

                         drudgery of my station by imagining what

                         the next port of call might bring, or what

                         strangeness and wonder lay right under

                         our feet in the wide wild ocean. Once, while

                         sailing on a fishing vessel in the North

                         Sea, we netted a giant squid as big as that

                         there house.

              Jack points to a terraced Georgian house. Johnny stare follows the house fixedly as
              the tram passes by it. A lady sitting next to Jack turns her head a little towards the      
              conversation.

                                   JOHNNY

                             (pointing, incredulous)

                         That house there, with the red curtains in

                         the window. A giant squid, how did you net

                         the thing?

                                   JACK

                         With trouble boy, with trouble.