Newmarket in The 50s
A poem by the late Jerry Clifford

I returned to Newmarket, and looked ‘round in dismay,
things were not at all the same, I’d been so long away.
Shops and houses and the streets were very, very changed,
the smaller shops were all closed down, the big one’s re-arranged.
And then I started thinking, and if you’ll come with me,
we’ll do a tour of that fair town, and the way it used to be.

Miss Gillman’s is the first of course, for a glass of ciderene,
and Mrs D.P Shine is next, she was first to have ice-cream.
Then we go to Scully’s, for the best cakes in the town,
and further down the street, we find the famous ‘Eckie Brown’.

To call to Mrs Eddie’s, for the paper was quite handy.
t’was here we bought ‘The Hotspur’, ‘The Beano’, and ‘the Dandy’.
And here too was ‘Lizzie Danihy’ with her ‘famous eating house’
and next door we had Mag Bunworth for silk stockings or a blouse.

And now we’ve Quinlan’s Hardware shop for a hay knife or a raker,
and back the street Nick Barry, clothes shops and undertaker.
And right here too is Sheehan’s shop, a fine chemist that’s for sure,
for colds or influenza, you bet Michael had the cure.

Jack Angland’s is the next shop now, furniture old and new,
and by a strange coincidence as undertaker too.
And now we walk across the street and to our right and then,
we gaze into that draper’s shop, and we chat with ‘Denny Ben’.
He had a lot of fabric there, with silk and satin fine,
then two doors further up the street, that grocery man Tim Ryan,
And next we have Tim Barry, baking white flour by the ton,
a big and decent man he was, just like his penny bun.

And now we meet with ‘Lizzie May’, there’s Julia and brother Joe,
it is a corner on it’s own, three Cronins in a row.
They spent long hours inside those shops, their efforts were quite tireless,
and Tommy Cronin was next door, you’d get bacon or a wireless.

A few doors further up the street, you remember just like me,
we meet that famous draper, the man called ‘Jack D.D’
He had a lovely draper’s shop, t’was fit for any swank,
but he could cut a caper or on you play a prank.
Paddy Murray is the next, for a suit or shoe or sock,
he was preceded here by Dan Greaney from the Rock.

And now comes Humphrey Murphy with his taxis and strong brew
Dick Scanlan worked here all his life, and Mary Cahill too.
Next the Old Post Office, you had May and Nell and Joan.
and of course their brother Andy, his job was on the phone.

And in my mind I see Con Flynn, he was always called ‘The Boss’,
I raise my hand as I pass by, a salute to Jimmy Cross.
And now we take a right, we’re passing Reardon’s pub,
and we meet up with ‘Decie’ that’s McCarthy’s for the grub.

We look across the street once more, sure Dan Riordans is a chipper,
and right next door is Daly’s shop for pig’s head or a kipper.
And Mary Horgan’s for the fags, we smoked with all our might,
and right across the road was ‘Jinks’ he’d install ‘electric light’

And now we have Flynn’s High Street store with timber and such like,
and across the road, Mc Auliffe’s, we had Lil and brother Mike.
A few steps further on from this you can bet your bottom dollar
Jerry Walsh with awl and thread, would fix your horse’s collar.

We climb on further up the street, and Roy Campbell, I recall,
you might wonder why I mention them, sure we’re passing ‘O Brien’s Hall’.
And now we’re at the Chapel Cross, where all blessings are bestowed,
the Island Road joins with the town, as does the Kerry Road.

On mentioning this highway, you should remember well,
The house that kept the down and outs, t’was called ‘Mag Gould’s Hotel’.
And Minnie and Jack Murphy and their son Danny too,
he’d sing a song or play a tune, an entertainer true.
They were all fine people, they’ve all gone Heaven’s Way,
likewise the man across the road, sure you remember Autie Shea.

I’m standing at Ford’s Corner, I’m looking down the street,
We’ve Ciss and Hannah Deedy for parafin, oil or sweets.
I hear an anvil sounding, its ringing in the air,
I know it’s Paddy Connors, he’s shoeing Curran’s mare.

And then we have Bill Collins he thought he was ‘Oisín’.
And do you remember ‘Statia’, and the art of ‘The Tosheen’
She’d fill it up with sweets you see, t’was as sound as a tin can,
she said The Irish Press was best likewise The Kerryman.
The ‘Tosheen’ was made of paper rolled in a special way,
but the plastic bag put paid to it, the ‘Tosheen’ has had its day.

I’m walking down the hill again, to the bottom of Main Street,
and there I see the Convent Gates where we held ‘The Garden Fete’.
The Church of Ireland, and The Bank, Mike Quane with cow and churn,
and back the street another shop, do you remember Mrs Curran?

And Pat Mulcahy, flour and meal, Ciss Linehan, hats and dresses,
and Vincie of ‘The Medical Hall’ with pills for all your stresses.
I’m standing here at Peggy Quinn’s and I’m thinking of Joe Lane,
his shop is ten times bigger now, t’will never be the same.

And then comes John Joe Murphy, with shoes of every style,
He was followed by Matt Jones who ran it for a while.
Now all these names run through my head, my mind is really swirling,
ah yes! Next door to Dan Joe Brien’s was Kate and Arthur Verling.

And right next door were ‘Larkin’ and his brother Sonny too,
you could hire a car, or buy a bike or radios, old and new.
And now I’m thinking very hard as o’er the bridge I trip
but t’was here ‘round’ 59, I think we had Kelly’s fish and chips.

And now I’m at the Sick House Cross, it’s the quietest part of town,
but two more names had disappeared, Maggie Sullivan and Dan Browne.
I’m walking past Verling Place, Guiney’s Terrace towers above,
the ‘Casino’ then comes into sight, it’s the one place that I love,

T’was there we say ‘Roy Rodgers’ and ‘Singing in the Rain’,
and cowboy pictures of the kind, we’ll never see again.
And if you had a few more pence, of course that would be a dream,
at the interval you’d dash across to Careys for ice-cream.

And if perchance when you read this, I’ve forgotten one or two,
just call around to see me, and I’ll tell you what we’ll do.
We’ll put our heads together and we’ll add a little more,
and we’ll reconstruct that little town we knew in days of yore

Newmarket is known to be home to five of the ten known Irish bat species. These include; common pipistrelle, soprano pipistrelle, brown long-eared, Leisler’s and Daubenton’s bats.  (Picture to the left shows Daybenton’s bat)

The riparian vegetation along both the Rampart Stream and Dalua River such as that at Island Wood offers ideal oases within and adjacent to the urban area for the local bat fauna for foraging and commuting. For instance, brown long-eared bats roost in the trees at these locations and use them as feeding perches from which to consume oversize prey like large moths which they catch in the air or by ‘gleaning’ them from foliage.

Daubenton’s bat can be seen hunting very close to the surface of the River Dalua. This species behaves like a little hovercraft, carefully skimming the surface as it seeks prey that has fallen in or is emerging from the water. This it gaffs with its oversize back feet before quickly transferring it to its mouth.

The two pipistrelle species are to be seen flying erratically at head height along the town’s watercourses and streetlights which attract night-flying insects. These amazingly acrobatic flyers are after the smallest prey; midges and gnats which they consume in enormous quantities. Both these species live in houses and churches within the town.

Leisler’s bat, which is built for speed with long, narrow wings, is the largest bat in Ireland with a wingspan up to 320mm. This bat is one of the rarest in Europe but Ireland has the highest population of the species in the world and it can sometimes be seen passing high over Newmarket in the early evening, even before sundown. 

(Picture to the right shows Leisler’s bat)

Bat populations across Europe have fallen dramatically in recent years due to roost and foraging area loss and Ireland’s bat species have similarly suffered as a result of intolerance and fear. Old myths of bats being blind, getting caught in hair, living in belfries or being flying mice are untrue. In fact, bats are more closely related to people than to mice having only a single baby each year and, although the average lifespan of a bat is four years, they can live to exceed 40 years. Bats also provide a helpful and free service by consuming vast quantities of insects, for example, the smallest Irish species, the soprano pipistrelle, which weighs in at only 3.5g to 8.5g, eats as many as 3,500 midges every summer night!

Due to their decline, all bat species are protected by the EU Species and Habitats Directive 1992 and Wildlife Act 1976 and 2000 and it is an offense to willfully disturb these beneficial animals.

For further information contact: Bat Conservation Ireland at: www.batconservationireland.org

 

The Penal Laws were passed by the English parliament from the end of the 17th. Century onwards in what was to be the final solution in the process to destroy the Catholic Church in Ireland, a project which had begun in the reigns of Elizabeth 1 and James 1.   At the beginning of the 18th. Century one of the penal laws that the English Parliament passed included a provision that all ‘ Popish Parish Priests’ had to be registered. Failure to do so would mean immediate arrest and charges of plotting against the civil and religious authority of the King or Queen as the case might be – a crime which carried the death penalty. The registered priest was required to be ‘ of peaceable behaviour and not to depart out of the county where his abode lay’.

In addition two persons had to give a surety of £50 each to guarantee that the priest would be of good behaviour according to the terms of the Act of Parliament. This was a considerable sum of money at the time. The register for Cork county compiled in 1704 states that Owen Keefe ‘pretended ‘to be parish priest of Clonfert as the Parish of Newmarket was then called. His guarantors, who entered into a bond of £50 each on his behalf., were Manus O Keefe of Knocknageeha in the parish of Cullen and Denis O Callaghan of Lismaelcunnin, west of Kanturk, both of whom must have been men of substance in the locality. It is probable that this Denis O Callaghan was a protestant.  Lismaelcunnin seems to have been previously connected with the MacAuliffes. Manus had also changed religion and as a result held on to O’Keeffe lands in the Cullen area..This branch of the family claimed to belong to The O Keefes of Dromach, the principal family of the O Keefe clan in Dúthalla. The O’Keeffes of Knocknageeha also secured possession of lands east of Newmarket in a district called Cnoc Leacóg ( the hill of the flagstones? ) which they renamed Mountkeefe. In the register Father Owen, unlike his guarantor is stripped of the ‘O’ in his name but it is interesting that he has the patronage of two members of Dúthalla Gaelic families suggesting that the old Gaelic Aristocracy still had some standing and authority in Dúthalla.

Father Owen was said to be 50 years of age at this time which means that he was born in 1654. He is said to have been living in Garraunawarrig but the location of any mass-house is not mentioned. However, M. J. Bowman in his invaluable book The Place Names and Antiquities of the Barony of Duhallow referring to the town land of Garraunawarrig Upper mentions that there was ‘a church site and burial ground in Mr. Kenny’s land.’ He adds that ‘ No sign of either are there now.’ We must remember that at this time Catholic buildings of any size or substance had been taken over by the Church of England which was the official state religion. The Catholics would have been only allowed to celebrate their faith in Mass houses of a temporary nature or in the open air at Mass rocks or other hidden sites. There must have been several Mass sites in the parish of Confert at this time as it included the modern parishes of Newmarket, Kanturk and Meelin/Rockchapel.

As Catholic seminaries were not allowed in Ireland at this time Fr. Owen was prepared for the priesthood in the Irish College at Toulouse and he was ordained there by the bishop of Sarlat in1679. The Irish College in Toulouse was one of the smaller Irish colleges on the continent. It was founded at the beginning of the 17th. Century and was supported at first by an endowment from Anne of Austria and this was confirmed by her son Louis XIV in 1659. This royal patronage was eventually to lead to the seizure of the college by the French revolutionaries in 1793. After the republic was declared in 1792 the government set out to remove all traces of royalty and of the old regime. As the church was seen to have been a supporter of the monarchy church property was confiscated and sold, seminaries were closed and priests who did not flee before the onslaught were often put to death on the guillotine charged with opposing the revolution. The small number of priests in Toulouse seem to have escaped with their lives but to day there is no trace of the seminary in in the city although the site is known to have been at the junction of Rue de la Bastide and Rue Valade.

What else is known about Father Eoghan? Where was he born? When did he die? Where is he buried? Information on priests in Penal times is difficult to come by for obvious reasons. They were part of a hidden Ireland that was despised and regarded with deep suspicion by the authorities,especially those who had been trained in the continent and who had returned on what the Church at this time called, the Irish Mission. Those who came from France would have been the subject of special attention as this country was considered, at the time,to be England’s greatest enemy.  The first trace we have of him, apart from the register, is a short verse in a manuscript ( Egerton 150) that is held in the British Library.This lighthearted verse concerns four O’Keeffe priests, all called Eoghan, who lived in Dúthalla in the early part of the 18th. Century and it was in all probability composed by one of them. The composer is most likely to have been the Eoghan O Caoimh who was parish priest of Doneraile at the beginning of the 18th. Century. He died in 1726. He was a famous Gaelic scholar and poet and was born at Glenville near Fermoy in1656 in the ancient territory of the O Keeffe clan. The verse is as follows with a literal translation into English

Eoghan seanda ó Cheann Toirc is sine den bhuíon

Is Eoghan sanntach ó cheantar Chuilinn Uí Chaoimh

Eoghan crannda nach ramharphluic ó iomad na dí

Is Eoghan manntach sa dhrandal ag druidim le haois.

***

Ancient Eoghan from Kanturk is the eldest of the group

And greedy Eoghan from the Cullen area

Withered Eoghan who is not fat jowled from too much drink

And Eoghan gapped in the gums who is getting old.

We can assume that Eoghan from Kanturk is the priest who was named as parish priest of Clonfert in 1704. Can we assume that when this verse was composed that he was living in Kanturk? That he was the oldest of the group also fits in as he was two years older than the poet, father Eoghan the parish priest of Donraile, who is also as he states ‘ ag druidim le haois’

Sources: Archivium Vol.1 1912.The Irish Seminary in Toulouse by Patrick Boyle C.M. JCHAS. Ser.2 Vol. LIX. 1954, pp. 22-33.

Seamus O’Croinin

Reproduced with kind permission of Mary Angland, editor of the Duhallow Diary.  This piece was published around 1989/90.  Thanks to Anna Collins who found the clipping.

by Humphrey Shine

Back in the 1940′s Stephen O’Keeffe, now of Ballyduane, gave the use of a field near Coolock Bridge for a sports meeting.  He wouldn’t take a penny for it so three of us on the Sports Committee decided to give him a day at the threshing in return.  It was during the war years and the compulsory tillage.

Going away that evening after the threshing, Stephen called me back and put into my hand a pound note.  “Go into town lads, says he, and have a drink”.  The three of us Michael O’Neill, Jamsie O’Keeffe ad myself were traveling bicycle.  We were delighted.  Michael O’Neill didn’t drink so we decided he wouldn’t come in with us at all.  I never had a pound in my pocket before.

Leaving our bikes at the West End we went to Jack Corney’s in Church Street.  Mrs. Collins – Hannah Mary, was behind the Bar, we came to know her well after – a fine decent woman.  We put the pound up on the counter.  “Two drinks there, I said, and we don’t want any change we are going to drink the pound”.  Jamsie and myself drank away and the pound was still on the counter and after about two hours Hannah Mary said, “lads yer pound is gone” and she took the note off the counter.

How many pints did that pound pay for?  You’d never believe it!  We had twenty four pints taken – that was twelve each – 10d a pint.  Hard to believe it today!  After that Hannah Mary stood us another pint each, so coming out we had thirteen pints each – not a bad pound!

 

 

The tragic tale of Mealane Ni Auliffe told in the words of Edward Walsh, the Poet of Duhallow.

Tis night and the moon from her
star-clad height
Sheds her mantle of silver hue
o’er Clonfert’s green graves,
And all sparkling bright Daloo in
her gleam
Beams a sheet of light where
murmur its waters blue.

In the gloom from afar o’er the
soothing scene -
The tall cliff and wavy wood.
And mournful and grey are the
rude rocks seen:
So heaves the green turf in
huge mounds between
Where Castle McAuly stood.

Here frowned the dark turrets in
lordly pride;
Here smiled the gay chieftain’s
hall.
The clansmen here marshall’d in
order wide;
When war-fires high blazed on
the mountain’s side,
For battle at glory’s call.

Here ne’er shall the string of the
clairseach wake,
The songs of the hall are o’er.
No more shall the voice of the
victor break;
When home o’er the mountain
their wild way take -
The kern and crahodore.

The clansmen who battled with
Saxon foes;
the chief of the lordly dome;
The bard at whose call the stout
clansmen rose;
In death undistinguished all
calm repose.
They are gone to their silent
home.

Lo! Yonder where moss-grown
the gravestones lie,
MacAuliffe sad sought the tomb.
He died not in battle by
victor high;
Heartbroken he yielded his
latest sigh
For Meelan his daughter’s
doom.

Daloo! While there glidest thy
groves between,
Shall the maids of thy sunlit
glade
Twine horror-fraught tales of
the nuptial scene,
With the olden lays echoed
through woodland green,
For Meelan, the gold-haired maid.

And mild as the lambkin that
crops the the lea,
And pensive as cowslips pale,
She oft sought the valley alone
- for she
Was woo’d by a chieftain of high
degree
In yonder dark lonely dale.

O’Herly was gallant and brave
and gay;
And chronicles ancient tell,
That Malachy bid his fair
daughter say
Who’d kiss her pure cheek on
the nuptial day -
Her choice on O’Herly fell.

Fond pair! You have woven in
fancy’s loom,
Sweet garlands of pleasure gay;
Dark destiny withers your
garlands’ bloom,
Yet could beauty, could merit,
revoke the doom.
Not yours were this plaintive lay.

The glad nuptial arrives
and lo
the high notes of joy rebound;
The priests are in waiting, a
glorious show -
The bards raptured voices all
sweetly flow,
To join the wild harps soft
sound.

As blooms the young rose in the
sunbeams clear
With bright pearly dew bespent,
So fair Meelan shone, through
the smile and tear
When the young chief soothed
each maiden fear
as they to the altar went.

How glorious the pomp of the
lordly train,
that leads the young pair along;
What silver-shod coursers proud
paved the plain -
Clonfert never saw, in her
sacred fame,
so gallant, so fair a throng

To view the proud pageant the
deep crowds press’d,
Warm hearts in hot wars’ urmoil,
Whose lips warmly praying, the
bright pair bless’d,
As they went where the priests
were in surplices dress’s
to the altar along the aisle.
The hollow wind whistled the
tombs among,
The owl from her ivory tower,
her harsh nightly notes on the
daylight rung,
When young Meelan whispered,
with faltering tongue,
Consent to the nuptial power.
The marriage ring wax’d,as the
moonbeam pale,
And deep was her heart’s
dark fall,
As the loud tempest gahtered
adown the dale,
And the bride and the bride-
groom sad sought the vale,
that led to MacAuliffe’s hall.

The hollow wind’s whistle, the
owlet’s cry,
The marriage ring’s paly glow;
The gloom of the moment, the
unconscious sigh,
The lowering dark cloud of the
boding sky,
Proclaim a sad tale of woe.

The sun hath gone down o’er the
mountain sreep,
And tinges its glades with gold;
The voice if the banquet is loud
and deep -
The last and latest that hall
shall keep,
Clanawlwy shall e’er behold.

Poor bride and the handmaids
thy chamber spread,
And show the gay fragrant
flower;
Thou wilt press with thy lover
no nuptial bed -
Borne off by enchantment so
drear and dread,
From bridegroom and bridal
bower.

The revelry rose on the night’s
dull ear,
The vaulted hall loudly rung -
When Meelan discover’d in
wildest fear,
A stranger was seated beside
her near,
As ‘twelve’ the strict warder
sung.

His flowing locks mock’d the
dark raven’s plume,
His carriage commanding high,
Bespoke the proud chieftain;
but silent gloom
O’erspread every bosom
around the room
Though none knew the reason
why.

His bright eye keen flash’d
with unearthly fire,
No mortal might its glow;
The guests of the banquet
with cold hearts retire,
The bard’s fingers ceased o’er
the trembling wire,
His presence such fears
bestow.

Ye guests of the banquet
surcease your dread;
Right courteous the Stranger
tall
He fills o’er the table the wine
bowl red,
He pledges the bride with low-
bending head -
The bridegroom and chieftain
and all.

He leads the young bride in
the circling dance,
Most regal his robes were
seen;
The banquet guests viewed
him with eyes askance -
The bride, oh! She trembled
beneath his glance,
Though graceful and gay his
mein.

How quick gleam her steps on
the marble floor,
And gentle her light foot
sound
In the hall which her light foot
oft trod before,
As she led her gay handmaids
that marble o’er
To move in that mazy round.

‘Tis done – when the murmurs
applausive ceased
The chief led the blooming
bride
Where Malachy ‘mid the high
chieftains placed
Presided supreme o’er the
nuptial feast,
Then sat by the maiden’s side.

“Thy light step, fair bride” the
dark stranger said,
“But echoed the music’s sound;
With fair blooming beauties
the dance I’ve led -
Their charms would have van-
ished, their light step fled,
Wert thou in the mazy round.

I have young maid and her
face is thine,
And thine are her tresses long,
And thine is her dark eye of
light divine -
And Oh! If thou listen to
strains of mine
I’ll sing to my fair a song.”

She bow’d – and he raised
some enchanted tone
Ne’er warbled by mortal
tongue.
If golden-harp’d seraphs to
earth had flown,
The voice of the stranger
would seem their own,
And these were the strains
he sung: -

THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT
Thou knowest where yon moun-
tain uprears its huge head,
Where the hoarse torrent roars
down its rude rocky bed,
There stands my bright palace -
high dwelling of air -
And the bride of my bosom shall
smile on me there.
Where the hues of the rainbow
all glorious unite,
Festooning the hall in gay
vapours of light,
Whose diamond-starred pave-
ment now sparkles in sheen,
Far brighter than gems, the
deep grottos of Lene.

The soft bridal bed my beloved
shall share,
I’ve plucked from the perlons of
spirits of air.
And the fairies of ocean by
strong spell beguiled,
Shall soothe her to slumber with
melody wild.

I know where the waters of
loveliness flow,
Whose pure draught can beauty
immortal bestow;
And the rose of her cheek, and
the snow of her brow,
Shall through the wreck’d ages
as peerless as now.

My chariot the wild winds, my
pathway the sky,
O’er wide earth and ocean
unfettered I fly;
And my bright bird of beauty
can wing her quick way
On the zephyr’s soft pinion, as
light fancy may.

I know where the diamonds of
brightness have birth,
In the caves of old ocean and
dark womb of earth;
I’ll choose for my fairest the
rarest of all,
To deck as she pleases the
crystal-built hall.

‘Tis the night of my bridal – I’ve
passed it with you;
The morning star blazes – ye
chieftains, Adieu!
When yearly this dark night of
wonder shall be,
Remember the bridal; and
think, think of me.

High lord of the castle, dark
chief of the wold,
The banquet of feasting I leave
but, behold!
I’ll snatch to my bosom the maid
of my vow,
McAuliffe’s bright daughter,
that maiden art thou.

‘Tis vain, O rash bridegroom
nor tempt my high power
I’ve decked for Meelan the
gay nuptial bower;
My train are in waiting,
impatient I fly,
My chariot the wild winds, my
pathway the sky.

Then rose through the castle
the wild guests fright,
As his strong arm he twined her
round.
And winged through the wide
yawning roof of his flight;
But ne’er was the bride, since
that fear-fraught night,
Or the mysterious stranger,
found.
To yonder rude cliff called from
Meelan’s name,
Through many an olden day -
Where stood the gay hall of
enchanted fame,
Invisible save to the wizard’s
beam -
The mountain-sprite bore his
prey.

At night when cottagers calm
repose,
And silent the grove and green,
Fair Meelan is oft at the dark
heat’s close,
While swells the sad tale of her
fate and woes,
Near her rock of enchantment
seen.

2012 McAuliffe Gathering

The sixth McAuliffe Clan Gathering took place in Newmarket, July 2012.  To view photographs of the McAuliffe Gathering weekend follow this link: http://www.facebook.com/McAuliffe2012
McAuliffe’s from all over Ireland and the world travelled to Newmarket, some repeat visitors and as always first time visitors, young and old. For some people attending our Gatherings is a deep and meaningful experience; our ancestors/we are a people of a place. To quote D.H. Allen “Duhallow is the cradle of the McAuliffes”. All, including the “deep and meaningful visitors” have great craic meeting old friends and family and making new friends.

 

In the beginning
Auliffe Álainn was the first McAuliffe Chieftain, he was born circa 1214 and would have been alive when Dermod McCarthy received the Lordship of Duhallow – between 1261 and 1300. It seems likely that in the new arrangement of Duhallow by McCarthy More, Auliffe Álainn received Clanawley as his partrimony. Auliffe is an Irish name derived from “Amhailgadh” which means “willow or sally”, Álainn means beautiful – Auliffe Álainn from the Beautiful, whom are Clan Auliffe.

To view the McAuliffe history timeline, follow this link: http://www.clanmcauliffe.com/history/timeline.html
Also, on The MacAuliffe Site you can learn about the history of the MacAuliffes – their lands, castles and the battles they fought.

Clonfert (Meadow of the Graves) traditional burial place for McAuliffes of Clanawley

McAuliffe legends
To read the McAuliffe legends by Edward Walsh, The Duhallow Poet follow this link: http://www.clanmcauliffe.com/legends/meelanpoem.html

A Trip to Mylon’s Rock, Shreelawn Wood, Newmarket

The Country of the Noble McAuliffe – O’Heeran circa 1400
Far beyond the bountiful river Allo,
And westward of Glen Celcian of the stately trees,
In a fair land of plentiful gatherings,
The Country of the noble Mac Auliffe

by Frances McAuliffe 12/12/12

According to Brother Allen’s book, “A History of Newmarket”, the Newmarket Gaelic League (or Conradh na Gaeilge) was founded in February 1904. The purpose of the organisation was to promote the Irish Language and Irish Gaelic culture.

It was the Gaelic League which brought Countess Markievicz to Newmarket for a Feis Mór. Brother Allen tells the story in his book as Gaeilge:

“Sa bhliain sin (1919) bheartaigh  an chraobh in Áth Trasna go mbeidh Feis mhór acu, agus tugadh cuireadh don Countess Markievicz teacht mar aoi-chainteoir. Chuir sí fúithí san Railway Hotel. Bhailigh na póiliní ó gach áit sa Bharúntacht. Go déanach um thráthnóna an lae sin sciurd an Countess amach as an óstlann; chuaigh sí isteach i gcárr is síos léi go dtí an Stáisiún mar ar chuaigh sí ar bórd na traenach. Nach ar na póiliní a bhi an gliondar is an t-áthas. Bhí ‘Sí Féin’ imithe; bhí an gcuid gnó déanta acú; scaip siad soir is siar. Ach ní raibh ‘fhios acu nárbh í an Countess féin a bhí ann ar chor ar bith ach Madge McCarthy – cailín cróga, galánta nár theip ar an misneach riamh uirthí – is í gléasta in éadaí an Countess.

D’éalaigh an Countess cheart as an óstlann is d’imigh sí léi go teach Corney Lenihan i nDrom an Airgil, mar ar chaith sí an oíche. Lá ar na mhárach bhí sí are árdán na Feise. Bhí breall ar an roinnt bheag póilín a bhí sa pháirc – bhí an lá ag Gaeil”

The league was very strong in Duhallow in 1920, when the photo above was taken, eventhough the war of independence was under full sail at the time in the barony. That summer an Irish College was set up in Newmarket and students from all through Duhallow attended. The civil war put an end to the activities in Duhallow except in Cullen. There were Irish Classes in Newmarket again from the summer of 1936 but it is not felt that these were run by the league. In the 50′s a new branch was set up in Newmarket” and this branch was particularly active in the early 1960s.

The Gaelic Athletic Association has been part of life in Newmarket since the closing years of the nineteenth century. The records show that the club fielded teams in the Cork County Senior Football Championship of 1897 and 1901. Our story begins really in 1927, when our junior footballers reached the County Junior Final against Urhan. The game was played in Killarney in March 1928. Captained by Paddy O’Shea, they lost out to Urhan. That same year they played in the Senior Championship, losing to eventual winners Collins Barracks.

The Duhallow division was founded in 1932 with the club enjoying considerable success in the Junior Hurling Championship, winning it on 14 occasions and leading the roll of honour up to the 1980s.

Newmarket returned to the County Junior Football final in 1950, captained by Jimmy O’Keeffe. They lost out to Canovee in a replay.

The current club grounds were opened in 1955. Dressing Rooms were opened in July 1976 by President of the GAA, Con Murphy. In recent times, new dressing rooms and a floodlighting system have been added. At the 2002 AGM, Kate O’Brien had the unique honour of becoming the first lady to chair the club. The club is ably assisted by a hard working and committed juvenile club.

Twice the County Junior Football title has come to the club, in 1970 and 1998, while in 1981 the County under 12 football title was won under the management of Vincent O’Connor. The minor football team collected the County Minor A Football League title in 2005 having earlier been runners up in the Championship final.

The club has over the years provided many players to the County teams. Jerry Cronin holds 5 All Ireland hurling medals: Senior (1977/78), Minor (1974), U21 (1977), Junior (1983). Mick Quane, born in Newmarket, played senior hurling for Cork as a member of Glen Rovers. Connie O’Callaghan played in a senior tournament game in 1980.

Seanie Daly had the honour of bringing the first All Ireland medal to the club, winning U21 football in 1970 and junior in 1972. His brother Billy (a Cork senior footballer in 1971) won an U21 medal that same season. Danny Culloty and Mark O’Sullivan have both played in Croke Park on All Ireland Senior Football Final day.

Danny Culloty won 2 Senior, 2 U21 and 1 Junior All Ireland winners medals. He played 25 senior championship games for Cork between 1986 and 1996 ( captain in 1991/92).

Michael Cottrell, Denys O’Brien and Brendan Daly brought All Ireland Junior Football medals to the club.
A History of Newmarket GAA

Mark O’Sullivan won Minor, U21 and Vocational Schools All Ireland Football Medals. He also won a National League and Railway Cup medals.

Kieran Quilter won U21 Football Munster and All Ireland medals. While John Paul O’Neill had football Minor success at Munster level.

Club President, Con Collins was a Cork minor footballer in 1957, his cousin Nelius Collins, a minor in 1966 also played U21 and junior. Sean Culloty played for Cork senior footballers in the National League. Dan Joe Cronin played junior and senior in 1937. Paddy O’Keeffe (1939), Matty Quane (1947) and Donal Cronin (1959) played minor football for the county. Bart Daly won a Munster minor medal with Cork in 2005.

Dan Joe Cronin (1972 junior football) and Jimmy Cross (1951 minor hurling) were selectors on those All Ireland winning sides.

In 2002 the clubs history was written by our esteemed club Vice President, Mr. Jimmy Cross, assisted by former chairman and long serving club officer, Andy O’Connor, covering the period 1899-1999.

(From the Newmarket GAA website: www.newmarketgaa.com)

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John Philpott Curran, the great Irish barrister and orator, was born on the 24th of July 1750 in Main Street, Newmarket. His father James was a local judge for minor affairs for the Manor area of Newmarket.

Curran went to the local Protestant school, where his intellectual ability was spotted by the parson, Rev. Nathaniel Boyse, who arranged to have Curran educated at Midleton, County Cork. He studied law at Trinity College, Dublin (he was described as “the wildest, wittiest, dreamiest student”) and continued his legal studies in London at King’s Inns and the Middle Temple. He was called to the Irish bar in 1775.

His occasional tendency of challenging people to duels (he fought five in all) rather than compromise his values, along with his skilful oratory, quick wit and his championing of popular Irish causes such as Catholic Emancipation, made him one of the most popular lawyers in Ireland. He also could speak Irish, still the language of the majority at that time. He wrote a large amount of humorous and romantic poetry. Including The Deserter’s Meditation below (which is also known as Let Us Be Merry Before We Go). This poem is considered to be the first poem in English that used the vowel format characteristic of Irish Language poetry. It is closely based on the popular drinking song Preab san Ól and is sung to the air of that song.:

” If sadly thinking, with spirits sinking,
Could more than drinking my cares compose,
A cure for sorrow my sighs would borrow
And hope tomorrow would end my woes.
But as in wailing there’s naught availing
And Death unfailing will strike the blow
And for that reason, and for a season,
Let us be merry before we go.

To joy a stranger, a wayworn ranger,
In every danger my course of I’ve run
Now hope all ending, and death befriending,
His last aid lending, my cares are done.
No more a rover, or hapless lover,
My griefs are over — my glass runs low;
Then for that reason, and for a season,
Let us be merry before we go.”

In 1774 he married Sarah Creagh of Newmarket. Among his children were Sarah, the beloved of Robert Emmet; Amelia, an artist whose painting of Percy Byrshe Shelley hangs in the National Art Gallery in London; and Gertrude, a child musical prodigy who at 12 years of age tumbled to her death from an upstairs window in their house in the Priory, Rathfarnham. Curran was so attached to his little daughter that he, controversially, had her buried in the grounds so that he could observe her grave from his study window.  (Picture below shows the door knocker from priory house)  

One of Curran’s more notable cases was that of Father Neale and Lord Doneraile in 1780. Father Neale, an elderly Catholic priest in County Cork, criticised an adulterous parishioner, whose sister was mistress to Lord Doneraile, a Protestant landlord. Doneraile demanded that Neale recant his criticism of his mistress’ brother. When the priest stood by his principles, Doneraile horse-whipped him, confident that a jury would not convict a Protestant on charges brought forward by a Catholic. Curran who had a fearless and passionate belief in justice represented the priest and won over the jury by setting aside the issue of religion. The jury awarded Curran’s client 30 guineas. Doneraile challenged Curran to a duel, in which Doneraile fired and missed. Curran declined to fire.

In 1798, he defended the leaders of the United Irishmen, the most notable being Wolfe Tone, Napper Tandy and the Sheares Brothers. He stood firm in the face of a government campaign of intimidation and terror and continued to defend the United men despite bought and biased judges, packed juries and government agents called as false witnesses. He was a real threat in the eyes of the authorities. His support for the united Irishmen was, however tempered by the bloodshed and social mayhem he saw during visits to France during the Revolution and he became convinced that violence was not the way to right Ireland’s wrongs. When Emmet’s rising took place it provided the government with the opportunity to finally silence Curran. Letters between Emmet and Curran’s daughter had been intercepted and a raid on his house while he was absent finally forced hm to capitulate and accept a minor government appointment. He refused to defend Emmet and sent Sarah to Quaker friends of his in Cork where he felt she would be safe. 

Started in 1780, his drinking club The Order of St. Patrick also included Catholic members along with liberal lawyers (who then had to be Protestant). They were called The Monks of the Screw, as they appreciated wine and corkscrews. Curran was its Prior and consequently named his Rathfarnham home “The Priory”.

On the 14th of October 1817, he collapsed and died a broken man, and was buried in London. In 1834 his body was exhumed and reintered in Glasnevin Cemetery in Dublin.

Newmarket Railway opened in 1889 and closed (finally) in 1963. It was built by Robert Worthington for the Kanturk and Newmarket Railway Co. (local land gentry and Cork businessmen) and went on to have an independent existence of three and a half years until purchased by the Great Southern and Western Railway in February 1893. The line, 8 3/4 miles long, from Banteer to Newmarket, had it’s only intermediate station at Kanturk. It crossed the River Blackwater just outside Banteer, from which point it was on a rising gradient almost throughout to Newmarket . The ruling gradient was 1 in 60 on leaving Banteer. Curves were relatively easy, the sharpest, two of 20 chains radius. There were twelve bridges of which seven were under and of steel structure. The remainder were masonry. The Blackwater bridge had five steel spans, each of 63 feet. A lattice girder bridge over the River Duala, near Kanturk, had one span of 70 feet. The Duala , from this point, flowed downwards parallel with the line to Banteer, and into the Blackwater.

It was never profitable and had to be supported by baronial guarantee from the beginning. Until 1942 four trains ran daily, with occasional Sunday excursions to the seaside, G.A.A. matches, or pilgrimages (Drogheda and Knock) and the annual exodus to Banteer Sports in June.

On 30 November 1962, notices, signed by Secretary, CIE Kingsbridge, appeared in the National daily newspapers, and the Cork Examiner reading:- “Pursuant to section 19 of the Transport Act 1958, the Board of CIE hereby gives notice that on and from the 2 day of February 1963 all services of trains for the carriage of merchandise operating on the railway between Banteer and Newmarket will be terminated and that road services will be substituted for the railway.”

On 25 January 1963 services was cancelled, and a replacement service provided from Abbeyfeale. The Newmarket Branch, after a long history of faithful service, closed at 4pm on Saturday, 2 February 1963 .

Source: IRRS (Irish Railway Record Society) Journal number 157, published June 2005