Porridge, Politics, and other Staples

Richard II marches off to Ireland

My staple diet at breakfast these last few weeks, besides porridge, has been the book "A History Of Medieval Ireland," by Edmund Curtis. The book is full to the brim of politics, winks, nods, decapitations, confiscations, conferrings, marches, marshes, marsh Irish, march English, and a-lot more dense but surely fascinating material. Not unlike my food, replete with cinnamon, figs, and honey, what might first sound unappealing, say "porridge," or "A History Of Medieval Ireland," can often hold so much more than is first expected for the eater/reader!

While reading the book, in amongst all the machinations of politics and the vagaries of war, there appears a short account of the life of one particular squire of King Richard II of England-Henry Christede. The account appears in the writings of Jean Froissart. Froissart, a French chronicler of the 14th century, met Christede, Christede related his tale -

Christede told the chronicler that he spoke French, English, and Irish, for from his youth he had been brought up in Ireland and had spent many years with the Irish. At last, when riding to war against the Irish with his master the Earl of Ormond, his horse took fright and carried him among the Irish, of whom one, by a great feat of  agility, jumped on the back of his horse, held him fast and carried him to his house "which was strong and, in a town surrounded with wood, palisades and still water called Herpelipen." With his captor, who was a very handsome man, called Bren Costerec, Christede lived for seven years, married Costerec's daughter and had two girls, "until Art MacMurrough, King of Lenister, raised war against Lionel, Duke of Clarence, and, as the English prevailed, my father-in-law was taken, but was released on condition he would free me, which at first he would not do, because of his love for me, his daughter and our children, but finally accepted on condition he might keep one of my daughters. So I returned to England with my wife and the other daughter and dwelt at Bristol. My two children are married; the one in Ireland has five children and the one with me has six; and the Irish language is as familiar to me as English, for I have always spoken it to my wife and introduce it as much as I can among my grandchildren."

As the march of Kings through foreign lands to be subjugated go, King Richard II's march through Ireland was undertaken in an general atmosphere of appeasement. In a token of grace (says Curtis) he substituted for the leopard flag of England, the arms of Edward the Conquerer, a saint "much venerated by the Irish." It was in this manner, according to Froissart, "that the four princypall kynges and moste puyssaunt after the maner of the countrey come to the obeysaunce of the Kynge of Englande by love and fayreness, and not by batayle nor constraynte." Oh, if only the rest of our dealings with the English were as fair and flowery!

The second last paragraph is taken directly from Edmund Curtis's book "A History of Medieval Ireland," page 273.

Richard II sails home from Ireland

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!