DUBLIN OPINION

Felix Larkin and the Long Fella
Click on image for larger version

My interest in cartoons really blossomed with the acquisition by the National Library of Ireland of a collection of almost 500 of Gordon Brewster's cartoons covering the period 1922 to 1932. But Felix Larkin was in there before me with his study and book on the Shemus cartoons of Ernest Forbes which are also in the National Library of Ireland. Both of these collections can be viewed online.

Well, Felix has now gone a step further with a study of DUBLIN OPINION (1922-1968) which is published as a contribution to a new book he has co-edited with Mark O'Brien. The book is titled Periodicals and Journalism in Twentieth-Century Ireland and looks like a gem.

His talk last night in Boston College (St. Stephen's Green), under the auspices of the Irish Historical Society, analysed the fortunes and failures of DUBLIN OPINION and was a tour de force. He brought a much loved publication back to life almost half a century after its demise. It was a publication that always made people smile and evoked great loyalty in its readers.

As Felix reminded us, its humour and satire was of the gentle variety which only went out of fashion with the advent of the more biting versions in Private Eye and the BBC's That Was The Week That Was.

I had been aware of the publication during my youth and smiled at its cartoons but I didn't know the story behind it. The magazine's stance was generally "agin the government", of whatever hue, and the amazing thing is that it was being run by a serving senior civil servant.

The talk was well received and was followed by a lively Q&A and comment session. Rumour has it that this continued well into the night in a nearby pub. Unfortunately I had to leave to write this post while it was all fresh in my head.

Judging W T

Click on any image for a larger version

The Royal Irish Academy published the latest book in their "Judging ..." series last evening. This is Michael Laffan's "Judging W T Cosgrave". I haven't yet read the book but if the speakers are to be believed it is not one to be missed.

Michael Laffan, Liam Cosgrave, Enda Kenny

WT Cosgrave was the first "Taoiseach" (President of the Executive Council) and he was in office from 1922 to 1932 at the head of the pro-Treaty Cumann na nGaedheal government.

He was not himself at the launch, as he died in 1965, but we had one current and two former Taoisigh present. WT's son Liam, now 94 and a former Taoiseach himself, gave a touching and illuminating speech about his father. Current Taoiseach, Enda Kenny, also spoke, more eloquently than usual, and formally launched the book. And the author, Michael Laffan, gave us some background and praised Liam for his cooperation in the writing of the book, though he said Liam might not like some of what he wrote. Former Taoiseach, John Bruton, was also present in the body of the audience.

Dolores and myself
Photo: Johnny Bambury

I have to come clean and admit that I was not really there for the book launch as such. I had learned that Dolores Brewster (m. Scott) and her daughter, Lynne Pentlow, had been invited and were flying in from Bristol to attend.

Dolores is the daughter of Gordon Brewster, the artist who was chief cartoonist and subsequently Art Editor in Independent Newspapers, including during WT's period as "Taoiseach". During those years he took at least 21 pokes at WT in his cartoons. Michael has included five of Brewster's cartoons in his book and these are set out below.

See cartoon in NLI collection
Thanks to National Library of Ireland

This one has WT painting a "selfie" showing himself as the "knight in shining armour" slaying the dragon of foreign competition with the Sword of Tariff, all to protect native Irish industry.

See cartoon in NLI collection
Thanks to National Library of Ireland

This one takes a poke at Finance Minister, Ernest Blythe's taking the shilling off the old age pension in 1924, reminding us that, at the same time, the politicians were coining it at the taxpayer's expense.

See cartoon in NLI collection
Thanks to National Library of Ireland

This one is sort of dynamite. It was published on 28 May 1927 and shows public opinion advising the Justice Minister, Kevin O'Higgins, to stop raking up past bitterness. He was assassinated just six weeks later.

See cartoon in NLI collection
Thanks to National Library of Ireland

WT Cosgrave's St. Patrick's day broadcast in 1931 to some 40,000,000 Americans.

See cartoon in NLI collection
Thanks to National Library of Ireland

The censorious state, which was around in Brewster's time, continued into my own youth.


Today's Irish Times carries a report on the occasion with extracts from the speeches.

Michael Laffan talks to Seán O'Rourke this morning on RTÉ radio 1.

I will be giving a talk in the National Library of Ireland on the library's collection of the Brewster cartoons at 1.05pm on 17th November 2014. All welcome.

Update: review by Felix M. Larkin in Irish Catholic.

Vanora

Vanora Bennett

There I was minding my own business when, tinkle, an email popped into my inbox. It was from a London-based bank I had been involved with during my working life. "Would you do an interview for our in-house magazine on your involvement with the early days of the bank", wondered the nice lady at the other end.

"Surely" I thought "this could be fun". And fun it was.

We arranged to do it by email and she sent me a few fairly general questions. As I set about answering them, memories flooded back, and before I knew it I was in the throes of regurgitating a full blown memoir.

"How are you doing" she asked after a respectable interval. A bit like a publisher asking a writer how the long awaited manuscript for his next book was coming along. "Maybe you are very busy and I was expecting too much? Should I take some of the material you've already blogged and work it in, to take some of the load off you. Maybe a thousand words or so?"

"No, no. I'm working on it and I'll have something by Monday." I'm sure publishers are used to getting that sort of stalling crap from their writers. So, I'll bet she got a shock when Monday morning came and ten thousand words tinkled into her inbox. An embarrassment of riches I hoped. And it seemed to go down well.

She culled the material to suit the interview, and within days I was in print in the inhouse magazine of this very prestigious bank.

Unfortunately I can't give you a link to it as the inhouse magazine is top secret and is rumoured to carry the code to the vault on it's masthead. Not the nice lady's fault. Policy.

Anyway I did learn something along the way which I can share with you.

When I went to the nice lady's website I found out that she was more than just a nice lady working on a bank's inhouse magazine.

She is a world famous author with a whack of acclaimed fiction and non-fiction titles to her name. She has been a war correspondent in some very troubled areas over the last two decades. And she is a violin maker.

So, brimming over with curiosity, out I went to my local library in case they might have one of her books. They had three, so I took them all and have now read two of them. You can see my reaction to The White Russian here and to Midnight in St. Petersburg here.

And that's the nice lady at the top of this post.

Update (2/11/2014): the violin Vanora made having an outing at the recent Kilburn Literary Festival.

Update (15/10/2017): Last week saw a fascinating series of five short radio programmes where Vanora looked at aspects of Russia, past and present, taking as examples five significant women. The series was presented as five Babushka dolls. These are the Russian dolls with one inside the other and Vanora was quick to mention that they are also called Matryoshka (mother) dolls. Very telling imagery for this series which looked into the female heart of the former Empire.

Richard Gardiner Brewster

Click any image for a larger version

The first I knew of Richard Gardiner Brewster was when I saw his name on his brother's grave.

I had gone to Kilbarrack graveyard to check out the grave of Gordon Brewster, the artist who had died in my mother's shop in 1946.

So from that point on, I was chasing up Gordon's brother as well as Gordon himself.

It was not long before I came across the website of Doug Vaugh who has a particular interest in the South Irish Horse Regiment in which Richard had enlisted. Doug sent me Richard's military records and they make very sad reading. You can see a summary of Richard's military career here

Then I found this photo of a plaque on the internet. It commemorated those parishioners from St. George's parish, Dublin, who died in WWI, and Richard's name was there.

So the next step was to check out the plaque. However, St. George's was no longer functioning as a church. It had become a nightclub, among other things, and my recollection from passing it on more recent occasions was that it had then become a commercial premises. So I resolved to make it my business to get in to have a look.

By the time I got round to that it had been vacated and was up for letting. To make a long story short, I contacted the letting agent who put me in touch with the owner, Eugene O'Connor. I explained to Eugene what I was at and he checked out the church. No sign of the above plaque, but what he did find was even more interesting.

A beautifully crafted stained glass window commemorating those parishioners who died in WWI. Richard's name was in one of the stained glass panels surrounding this magnificent resurrection window. Eugene sent me a photo, but I was anxious to also check it out for myself. I got the opportunity during Heritage Week when the [former] church was open and the Heritage Architect, James O'Connor, who had been involved in its magnificent restoration, was on site.

James told me that the original plaque I was looking for had not been in the church when Eugene became the owner. So that would have to be for another day.

However, on my way out I spotted a plaque to those parishioners who had been members of the Boys' Brigade and who had fallen in WWI.

And, sure enough, there was Richard's name and regiment.

Then back to the net for more searching, and up comes this plaque in the High School in Rathgar (Richard's name is second from bottom). Not a great picture, so I thought to try and take my own. I saw from the school's website that they had a full-time archivist, Alan Phelan, so I wrote to him. Then I discovered they were doing a project on WWI on another site so I wrote to them. That led me to Michelle Burrowes who is doing the project which is attempting to fill out the lives of the 900 or so pupils who enlisted, and more particularly the 80 or so who died.

Michelle already had a post up on Richard with information culled mainly from the school magazine "The Erasmian".

Alan had already revealed that both Richard and Theo attended High School and I dug up a few extra bits when I visited the archive. Meanwhile Michelle had unearthed a good quality photo of Richard in uniform (and one of Theo as well). I had some pictures of Richard from the family and she has now incorporated them into her page.

While I was there, Michelle showed me the alcove which houses their stained glass window, which is by the same artist as the one in St. George's, William McBride, though this one doesn't have individual names on it. And I could see why the photo of the plaque looked so poor. The plaques are at the side of the window and are awkwardly placed to photograph unless you come with your own lighting setup.

The next thing I came across on the web was a reference to another plaque in All Saints' Church, Phibsborough. So I contacted them and Rev. David Pierpoint suggested I come over one morning when there was a service. Which I did. The service was still in progress when I arrived and I had to keep pinching myself. This was high high church and I could have been at a Roman Catholic mass. I can at last understand how my mother and her friend on holiday in England all those years ago thought they were at mass until the celebrant started to "pray for the King, the head of our church".

Anyway, the plaque is a beautiful enamel picture, in stained glass style, with panels on either side with the names of all the parishioners who enlisted, and those who died shown in gold.

So both Richard and Theo figure on this one. The parish thing seems a bit inconsistent on the face of it but the Brewsters had lived at a number of addresses and would have had associations with a few parishes. This was the only plaque I found with Theo's name on it. He survived WWI.

Still searching for my first missing plaque, I learned that, when St. George's ceased to function as a church/parish, its function passed down the road to St. Thomas's in Cathal Brugha St. which is now St. Thomas and St. George. So I wondered if they might have inherited the plaque. I contacted Gillian Dean who invited me to come in and check it out, and I did find a plaque from St. George's. But this was the roll of honour for all who served in WWI from St. George's parish.

Richard's name figures on this, but no Theo.

Incidentally this church is relatively modern (1930). The original St. Thomas's was burned in the Civil War and rather than restore it the decision was made to demolish it and break Seán McDermott St. right through to O'Connell St. The connecting road is now Cathal Brugha St.

Richard is commemorated in two other non-church locations. His name is in the books of the fallen Irish which are kept in the Island Bridge Memorial Gardens (above) ...

... and at the Pozières Memorial in France near where he fell.

The picture of Richard above is from the High School archive to whom thanks for permission to reproduce it here.

Working on the Railway

Well, this Paddy wasn't exactly working on the railway. They don't have one in Jersey. But he did end up working for British Railways, in St. Helier, in 1961. They ran the ferries.

I was still at school. I had just done my Inter Cert and Summer holidays were looming. A job was arranged with a bank in Jersey. I think it was Barclay's. And that was fine and dandy.

When I arrived in Jersey, the man who was supposed to have arranged the job told me there wasn't one. Shock of my life. So I told him he'd brought me all this way; I had no where to go (which was only partly true); and there had better be a job.

So he fixed me up with a public counter job with British Railways in St. Helier.

I was dealing with parcels and with day trippers to France.

I have recorded one of my linguistic adventures here. And that was nothing to do with the local patois (otherwise known as Jèrriais) but with the Queen's own English which I thought I knew inside out even if I didn't always speak proper.

As far as the day trippers were concerned, the British and the French had organised a nifty system. UK visitors to Jersey came for the weather and the touch of Frenchness on the island. Despite is proximity to the French coast it was still British, a Crown Dependency, and they would not have needed to bring their passports. So how to organise a day trip to France? Well, in place of a passport, I issued them one day only ID cards. The card was in triplicate [and needed a photo for each section ?]. I kept one section, they handed up a section on entering France and the final one on leaving that country. The French authorities matched their two portions each evening and if there was not a corresponding exit section for each entry one, then the hunt was on. If there was any possibility that they had left and that section had not been handed up or had gone missing, then we had a corresponding section with which the authorities could hunt them down on the island. I almost felt like I had entered the diplomatic and the secret service all in the one go.

The British Railways Agent in Jersey (ie the boss of the Jersey operation) was a man called R.D.Roberts. His next assignment, which was fast approaching, was to become the Agent in Dublin. When he heard where I was from (or maybe that's why I got the job) he asked if I could come up to his office a few days after work and brief him on Ireland and Dublin. That worked out OK, but he had one question which absolutely floored me. Would he have to learn Irish to speak to the dockers? I reassured him on that one but it was very interesting. It told me two things. First that Ireland's propaganda regarding the status and practice of the Irish language had spread far and wide. And second, that he did intend to speak with the dockers and was prepared to knuckle down to learning some Irish if that was what was required. I don't know how things worked out for him in Dublin as I never saw him after I left Jersey.

Another thing that stays with me is wrapping up the books at the end of the day. Anyone who has worked in a shop or at a counter knows that reconciling the day's takings with the day's activity can be a curse and there is always some little niggle of an error. But that is not what stayed with me. These was the days of pounds, shillings, pence, and bits of pence (£.s.d.to you). Well my way of adding up a cash column, and I'm sure nearly everyone else's, was to do the bits first (ha'pennies and farthings) and carry the pennies into the next column, then do the pennies and carry the shillings and finally do the shillings and carry the pounds into the final column while adding that up. I would style that vertical adding. This guy just added up whole terms: first row £sd + next row £sd and so on and then just wrote down one final answer. Never saw anything like it before or since. Horizontal adding to beat the band.

Anyway, that was this Paddy's experience of British Railways in Jersey.

History

Felix Larkin on FX Martin
in the Central Catholic Library

You really can't get away from it. The country is in the middle of an anniversary bubble. We are told it will remain there for the next decade or so, presumably until the centenary of the end of the Civil War.

Well, its probably no harm. At least these anniversaries provoke a raft of new research, bring up old controversies and sometimes give rise to new ones.

Given the kind of history I got in school, and which influences me up to this day, this probing must be a good thing. I was raised on the simplistic nationalist version which saw "Irish good, British bad" and I was overawed by the "blood sacrifice".

Now we are finding out that these guys were human after all, that some of the nice guys may not have been so nice and and some of the not-so-nice guys may have something going for them at the end of the day.

The coincidence of two talks on two consecutive days brought this home very vividly to me.

The first, by Felix Larkin (above), was on FX Martin, who, in the hubris of the 50th anniversary of the 1916 rising dared to question its morality. An oversimplified version would be that FX rehabilitated Eoin McNeill at the expense of Pearse and his "blood sacrifice". OK, so it was a lot more complicated than that, but in taking a cold hard look at 1916, FX left us a legacy that many of us still have difficulty coming to terms with.

The morality of the rising cannot be justified in retrospect by its success in failure which was significantly aided by the executions and the establishment by the British of the Frongoch rebel university and training camp. Seen in prospect, the rising did not fulfill the conditions required for a moral revolt. And this is FX's main theme which Felix explored for a rapt and packed audience. The overflow was such that he nearly had to surrender his lectern as well as his chair.

The second talk was a sort of rehabilitation of John Redmond who has been airbrushed out of Irish history and whose dilapidated vault in a small graveyard in the middle of Wexford town testifies mightily to that fact.

Redmond achieved something that eluded both O'Connell and Parnell. He got Home Rule signed into law. How that would have ultimately translated into reality is not clear. Partition was the big bugbear; there was, however, the possible makings of a deal on offer that just might have been acceptable at that stage but WWI intervened and it was not tested. Then we had 1916 and the context changed utterly. So Redmond's "victory" cannot be validated at the end of the day.

Dermot Meleady on John Redmond
in Raheny Library