A Great Commissioner.

Forgiveness from On High…

Sadly, over here in the UK we have become all too familiar with the sad death of a police officer on duty whilst arresting or chasing suspects. Again, it is almost certainly an officer who is at ‘the sharp end’, i.e., a patrolling officer.
Back in 1912, the tables were turned when none less than the actual Commission of Police for the Metropolis in London was shot on his own doorstep.

Sir Edward Henry was made Commissioner in 1903 and was responsible for his major success in introducing fingerprinting to the service. He had become familiar with fingerprinting when in the Indian Civil Service at the Bengal Taxation Service. He had noted that the Indians always took fingerprints and palmprints for identification purposes. However, it was he who formulated a system whereby such prints could be coded making it simpler for identification with those from burglaries and other scenes of crime with those already on record. He brought many innovations to the service and was considered one of the ‘great’ commissioners.

Although it is just over a century ago, it was he who introduced typewriters in the service whereas all documents had to be copied in handwriting prior to that. He introduced expert training for recruits, the use of ‘police boxes’, telephones and the ‘dog section’. This is only the tip of the iceberg as far as Sir Edward is concerned for it is said that he reluctantly dragged the old Victorian police service into the twentieth century.

He had been born in the East End of London on 26th July 1850 to Irish parents. His father was a doctor and he received an excellent education. He began work as a clerk with Lloyds of London. He continued his education by attending evening classes at University College, London in preparation for the entrance examination for the Indian Civil Service – (India was at that time under British rule).

In 1873 he was successful and sailed to India. He quickly became fluent in Urdu and Hindi and was quickly promoted. In 1890 he married. His beginnings with the police service began when he was appointed Inspector General of Police in Bengal. This was where he became familiar with the principals of fingerprinting. With the help of two local inspectors he developed a system of fingerprint identification which basically lasted for the next seventy or eighty years. It was the basis of all such identification systems worldwide.

In 1900 he was seconded to South Africa with a brief to organise the civil police in Johannesburg and Pretoria. However, in 1901 he was recalled to Britain where he was appointed the Assistant Commissioner for Crime at Scotland Yard. This made him head of the Criminal Investigation Department.

In 1903 when the current Commissioner retired, Sir Edward was appointed in his place. Over the coming ten years he was Knighted and awarded numerous medals and titles for his ability in running the police service.

One of Sir Edward’s duties (which he of course delegated to the Public Carriage Office) was the issuing of ‘Hackney Carriage Licences’. That’s a Taxi/Cab licence for those who do not recognise the word.

Albert/Alfred Bowes was a bitter man who had his application for such a licence refused. He blamed the man at the top – Sir Edward. On 27th November 1912 when Sir Edward was dropped off at his Kensington home, Bowes stepped forward and began to talk to him. Sir Edward told him to come to Scotland Yard where the matter could be discussed. Without warning, Bowes produced a revolver and shot the Commissioner. He fired three shots but fortunately only one hit its target. The bullet entered Sir Edward’s abdomen.

His chauffeur wrestled Bowes to the ground and with the help of two members of the public, he was arrested. He was later charged with the Attempted Murder of Sir Edward.

This is where the strange twist in events occurred. Bowes appeared at the Central Criminal Court, Old Bailey and pleaded Guilty. Sir Edward, although still suffering from the after effects of the gunshot, attended the court and pleaded on Bowes behalf. He stated that Bowes had only wanted to better himself and improve his lot for himself and his widowed mother. Notwithstanding, he was sentenced to fifteen years in prison.

During his stay in prison, Sir Edward used to receive reports on Bowes condition and upon his release after serving ten years, he paid for his fare to emigrate to Canada.

Towards the end, Sir Edward was beginning to lose interest in policing but kept his position during the Great War to enable his second in command to be seconded to the War Office.

On 30th August 1918, 11,000 Metropolitan and City of London Police officers went on strike – basically for the right to Unionise.

Sir Henry resigned over the issue on 31st August and is seen as a scapegoat for political failures of the time.

He retired to his home in Ascot where he continued to lead an active life as a Magistrate.

He died at his home in 1931 of a heart attack. He was aged 80.

He was a great man of vision and all modern police services throughout the world owe him a debt of gratitude, if for nothing else, then his ‘fingerprint’ identification system which has resulted in hundreds of thousands of criminals being identified.

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The International – Once Again….

It is amazing how time flies – especially as one gets older. I can well remember when I was a child that a week, a month and especially a year took ages to arrive. Now it seems that if I close my eyes for more than a minute, take a blink, suddenly a year has flown by. For that matter, so has the past twenty-five years. As the man said ‘Tempus Fugit’.

You may remember that I spoke before about ‘The International’ – an annual golf game I play between England, Ireland and Scotland at our local club. Sunday 1st June last was this year’s affair. After all the shenanigans with the Irish Captain four years ago, I was asked to play for England and in doing so, that year ‘we’ beat the Irish by one stroke with ‘yours truly’ being the hero of the day with the best score.

The following year was an absolute disaster with me having the worst score of the eighteen players. My excuse was that I was under pressure being the holder of the trophy.

This year my nerves were even worse but I held it together and came third overall. Ireland won the trophy. We are considering calling them Mexicans from now on as the whole team were a bunch of Bandits.

We had a nice meal afterwards and the sing-song was great. I sang until I was practically told to shut up. Stone cold sober – but I could not care less. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. When I sang ‘Four Green Fields’ and ‘The Island’ quite honestly, you could have heard a pin drop. After that I gave them a couple of my most rude jokes (all males present) and again quite honestly, they were laughing for a good ten minutes.

Late home and to bed after midnight with the alarm set for five a.m. left me completely shattered at work today. I thought I might have been able to have a snooze when I got home at 2pm but unfortunately the engineers were in relocating a new central heating system. I think I will go to bed tonight at about 8pm.

Another wonderful day and one to file away in my memory bank as one of those memories that will last for a lifetime. Thank God.

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No-Body's...

Ohio Grave Robbers…

When I wrote a few days ago about British Grave Robbers, I did not mean to infer that the US did not also have their own share. However, instead of relatives and friends holding a vigil around the deceased’s grave, the Americans went to great lengths to prevent the bodies being stolen.

Ohio seems to have had a very active school of thieves who used to keep the students and teachers at the Ohio Medical College in Cincinnati fully supplied. No body – literally – was immune from stealing.

John Scott Harrison was the son of President William Henry Harrison and the father of President Benjamin Harrison. When he died he was buried in Congress Green Cemetery in North Bend, Ohio. Shortly after the funeral, relatives discovered that the grave had been ‘robbed’ and poor old John Scott was missing. The relatives and police went straight to the Medical College and recovered the body before it had been cut up. It was taken and interred in the Harrison Tomb with his parent’s remains.

Such grave robbing had a much more horrifying effect on the Americans. Whereas in Britain the stealing of corpses was frowned upon, it was however only a ‘misdemeanour’ and not a ‘felony’. The punishment was a fine or short prison sentence. However, the grave robbers were careful to leave any jewellery or clothing of the deceased in the coffin, as the stealing of such would be punishable by transportation or at worst, hanging.

In America it was a great deal more dangerous occupation. You see patents had been granted for several devices, which had been devised to prevent the theft of the body. One was known as the ‘coffin torpedo’. In this case if the coffin were disturbed, several lead balls would be shot at the thief with the intention of killing or maiming him. The next was even more lethal. An exploding shell was buried underground above the coffin so that if someone tried to move it, it would explode with the intent to kill or injure the thief.

The grave robbing became a thing of the past when Ohio’s State government allowed people to donate or sell family corpses to the medical schools. They also increased the penalties for grave robbing – provided the robber survived the ‘coffin torpedo’ or the ‘exploding shell’.

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A Sad Day Down Under...

Another Side of the World….

Once upon a time in a far-off land there lived an old blind man. Some of his neighbours said that he was at least 90 years old but there was no one around who could verify his date of birth. He was in fact 93 years of age and had lived through all types of hardship, both personal and national, throughout his life. However he did not have one ounce of bitterness in the smallest bone in his body. In fact, he loved life and looked forward to even better times to come.

It was during the great fire seventy years ago that he had lost his sight but he could still see clearly in his mind’s eye the beauty of the landscape that he had enjoyed from boyhood.

He merely had to relax in the bright sunshine and he could ‘see’ some of the most beautiful sights that those with two good eyes were blind to. When one of the village children brought him his food they would usually bring him also one of the bright coloured flowers from the riverbank. He could ‘see’ the bright yellow of the flower and the red streaks that traced their way through the petals. He could ‘see’ the lightly coloured green stalk and the one leaf that each stalk held. Ah but the scent. Now that was real. The all-powerful aroma that brought back memories of his beloved wife caused the salty tears to form in his unseeing eyes and to roll down his cheeks into the corner of his mouth.

The same fire that cost him his sight had also cost him his beloved. When the flames raced through the long grasses towards them they had tried to outrun them. She had tripped and fallen. When he heard her cry he had not hesitated, he had turned and run back into the danger that was obvious but without a second thought he would willingly have given his life to save hers. It was not to be. He had picked her up and with his clothing and hair alight, he had run carrying her. He ran like a man possessed until he reached the riverbank.

He could barely see but without hesitation he jumped from the bank into the dangerous river knowing that there were things there that were just as dangerous as the fire. He had swum out into the middle of the river holding dearly to his beloved. He could not see anything now but it did not worry him. All his thoughts were on his beloved and the fact that he could feel not a trace of a pulse. He refused to accept that she was dead and held tightly to her whilst threading water.

It was then that he heard the crack, crack cracking of rifle fire from the riverbank. He also heard the laughter of the whitemens’ voices shouting and cheering. He heard the splash, splash splashing as bullets hit the water around him. But he still clung to his beloved. He now knew that she was dead but also knew that she deserved a proper ritual burial. For that reason he would not release her body.

As he took the deepest breath that he had ever taken, he prayed to his spirit guide for protection. He then dived under the water until he reached the riverbed some fifteen feet deep. He held firmly onto his beloved with one arm and to a large rock with the other for what seemed like ten minutes. It was probably not that long but if he could only hold on for another minute or two maybe the whitemen would leave and he could reach the riverbank.

Still clinging to his beloved, he silently swam to the bright sky, which he could still see through his closed burned eyes. He put his head above the water and listened for any human sound. There was total silence.

He swam to the shore and lay on the water’s edge with his beloved beside him. Within minutes he heard a noise coming towards him from the nearby reeds. A voice spoke to him in his native tongue and he realised that he was now safe. He told the other about his blindness and the other helped him to carry his beloved into the nearby bushes.

Suddenly, the old man awoke. With the warm sunshine on his face he had fallen asleep and dreamt of the past. He was happy that he felt no bitterness within himself for something that had not only changed his life all those years ago but which had also changed his land for all time.

The year was 1930 in the ‘outback’ of Australia where the white settlers were paying retribution on the Native Australians for stealing some chickens to feed their families.

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Abra-Cadaver...

Burke and Hare…

In the early 1800’s in Britain, medical science was proceeding at an ever-increasing rate with great inroads being made in surgery. Many new type operations were ‘practised’ on the dead by budding surgeons and their teachers. The prisons, where there were hangings on almost a daily basis, provided most of the bodies for dissection. There was little or no shortage for the trainees.

However, mid-century, what was known as the ‘Bloody Code’ was repealed and this caused a sharp decrease in the number of executions and with it the number of bodies that were available.

The law of ‘supply and demand’ quickly came into play with characters that became known as ‘resurrectionists’ taking up the gruesome art of ‘body-snatching’. They would watch out for funerals and later at night they would literally dig up the coffins, remove the body and in many cases return the coffin to the grave and fill in the hole. In order to prevent such a thing happening many relatives or friends of the deceased would hold a vigil and stand guard over the grave for several nights after the burial. In many cases, iron railings protected the graves.

Once again the law of ‘supply etc.,’ took over to provide for the shortage. Several unscrupulous people, not only men but these also included women, decided not to wait for the funeral and began claiming the bodies before the person even died.

Burke and Hare were two such likely-lads who were born in the North of Ireland and moved to Scotland about 1820.

William Burke was born in County Tyrone in 1792 and was a ‘Jack of all Trades’. He left his wife and two children in Ireland and moved to Scotland about 1817. He was working as a ‘navvy’ on the Union Canal when he met and began living with Helen MacDougal. He began working at different types of jobs and they moved into a lodging-house in Edinburgh, which was owned by Hare, a fellow Irishman who lived with Maggie Laird.

William Hare was born about 1800, probably in Newry or Derry. He too emigrated to Scotland and worked on the Union Canal. He moved to Edinburgh where he met a man named Logue. Logue died in 1826 and Hare moved in with his widow as his common-law-wife and they ran a lodging house. It was to this house that Burke moved. It is probable that they already knew each other from their Canal work.

It was around 1827 that the pair began their campaign, which became known as the West Port Murders. By the time they had finished they had killed 17 people and sold the bodies to Professor Robert Knox, a leading Edinburgh anatomist at the Edinburgh Medical College.

Hare later admitted that their first body was that of a dead tenant, an army pensioner who owed Hare £4 rent. They stole the body from its coffin and sold it to Professor Knox for £7. This was their first meeting with Knox who must have let them know that there was a market for such bodies.

As their murderous scheme progressed, with the help of the women, they would ply their proposed victim, usually any sickly tenant, with whisky and then suffocate them. The professor paid £15 for such bodies ‘as they were fresh’. When they ran out of such tenants, the women would lure proposed victims from the street, do likewise with the whiskey, then suffocate them.

One of their next victims was a well-known local prostitute, Mary Patterson. They did the usual with her but problems arose the next morning when students at the College recognised the victim. Some of them were well acquainted with good old Mary.

Vagrants and beggars were the most common victims, as they believed, rightly in many of the cases, that they would not be missed or recognised. On another occasion Burke ‘saved’ a woman from the police by claiming that he knew her. She too appeared at the College a few hours later. An old woman and a deaf boy were the next two victims but when there was a shortage, they even went as far as murdering one of MacDougal’s relatives.

Two more prostitutes quickly followed but the murders almost came to light when they murdered a well-known retarded young man with a limp. He was called ‘Daft Jamie’ who was eighteen at the time. When Professor Knox uncovered the body the next morning, several students recognised the young man. Knox quickly removed the head and feet and totally denied that it was Jamie. It appears that he then began to dissect the face to totally prevent identification.

Their final victim was Marjory Docherty. Burke lured her into the house by claiming that his mother’s family was called Docherty. Another couple called Gray met her at the lodgings. The next morning, Mrs. Gray became suspicious when Burke would not allow her to approach a bed where she had left her stockings. When Burke went out, Mrs. Burke discovered Marjory’s body under the bed. On their way to the police to report the matter, they met MacDougal who offered them £10 per week to remain quiet. They refused and continued to the police station.

MacDougal quickly informed Burke and Hare who removed the body from the house before the police arrived. They were all questioned but their stories of Docherty did not tally. They were arrested. It was then that the police received an anonymous tip-off that led them to Knox’s classroom where they found her body. The Gray’s identified it. Hare and Burke’s wives were then arrested.

Although they had murdered seventeen people over the previous eighteen months the prosecuting authorities did not consider that there was sufficient evidence to obtain a conviction. They made an offer to William Hare of immunity if he testified against Burke. That evidence led to Burke being convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. Professor Knox never faced prosecution, as there was no evidence that he had known the origin of the corpses.

Helen MacDougal was almost lynched when she returned to the lodging house. She is supposed to have emigrated to Australia. Margaret Hare is supposed to have returned to Ireland when she too was almost lynched. William Burke was hanged in Edinburgh on 28th January 1829.

A couple of strange facts regarding Burke after his execution are that his body was passed to the Royal College of Surgeons in Edinburgh for research. His skeleton remains there to this day. His ‘death mask’ is also retained at the College. For some unknown reason there is also a book, the cover of which is alleged to have been made from his skin. A similar business card case made from his skin is also present.

Perhaps Professor Knox or one of his students was having the last laugh on Burke……

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William Hare was released in February 1829 and his following years are unknown. There was a story about him being a blind beggar in London having been thrown into a lime pit in Scotland but this was never confirmed.

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For years afterwards, and who knows, probably still today, Scottish children sing the following rhyme when playing hopscotch or skipping:

Burke the Butcher,

Hare the Thief,

Knox the boy who Buys the Beef.

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I Owe my Soul to the Company Store....

A Dark Day in the Colorado Coal Mines…

To day I am departing from Ireland – not literally of course, as I am not there in any case, but figuratively speaking only. This posting is about a period of shame in the Colorado Coal Mining area in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s.

May I suggest that before going any further you listen to Tennessee Ernie Ford singing about Coal Mining on the following link, which will set part of the scene:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=NBkrAESUbyI

Mining attracted a large many immigrants who were poorly educated and who had arrived in America with little or no money and even less skills. The large companies kept them in check by ensuring that different nationalities worked together in the mines, thus avoiding sedition and joint complaints. There was also the anomaly as seen by the miners whereby they were only paid for the actual coal produced and not the laying of rails, the clearing of rubbish and spoils but in particular the shoring up of the tunnels and other safety aspects. This was known as ‘dead work’ and regularly led to dangerous working conditions. Over 1,700 miners died in Colorado between 1884 and 1912.

The Unions saw the miners as being a particular target for organisation. The mine owners, some very important and wealthy individuals included, were of course against such unionisation. Union attempts had begun around 1880 with a strike in 1883.

Another serious complaint by the miners was that the scales for weighing their coal mined was never correct thereby resulting in less pay. Oddly enough, the same scales were not used for coal customers. Any miner who challenged the weights was either sacked or demoted.

The biggest complaint of all was that most miners were obliged to live in ‘company towns’ where homes, schools, doctors, clergy and law enforcement were provided by the company. The owners used a strong hand to ensure that there were no meetings or any other potential union activity. When the price of coal was low, the prices at the company store increased and conditions worsened. The companies had their own currency called ‘scrip’ with which the miners paid for food and other goods at the store.

Colorado’s lawmakers passed laws to improve conditions for the miners and outlawed the use of the ‘scrip’. However, such laws were poorly enforced.

Away from the company towns secret meeting were being held by the United Mine Workers of America (UMWA) and miners from several coalmines. In 1913 after much preparation a list of seven demands were put to the companies
.
They could nowadays be classed mostly as ‘basic human rights’. The demands were:

1. Recognition of the union as bargaining agent.
2. An increase in tonnage rates – equal to a 10% wage increase.
3. Enforcement of the eight-hour work day law.
4. Payment for ‘dead work’ – laying rails, handling impurities, safety etc.
5. Weight-checkmen elected by the workers to ensure company honestly.
6. The right to use any store, boarding houses and doctors.
7. Enforcement of Colorado’s laws – mine safety rules, abolition of scrip and an end to the hated company guard system.

The major mining companies immediately rejected the demands and in September 1913, the UMWA called a strike. Those miners who joined in were immediately evicted from their company homes. Those evicted moved to some land purchased in anticipation by the Union where tent villages had been erected. Generally they were situated close to the roads leading to the coal camps where the strikers began to harass any replacement workers known as ‘scabs’. Confrontations regularly occurred and often got out of control resulting in deaths and serious injury.

The companies hired Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency to help break the strike and protect the replacement workers.

The Baldwin-Felts men were known as aggressive strikebreakers. They would shine searchlights on the tent villages at night and randomly fire into the tents often maiming and killing people. They had an improvised armoured car with a machine gun mounted on top which became known by the strikers as the ‘Death Special’. This regularly patrolled the camp’s perimeters. Because of this, the strikers dug protective pits inside and under the tents where they and their families could have some shelter from the shootings.

 

The most militant tent village was at Ludlow, north of Trinidad, Colorado. When strike-related violence mounted, the Governor Elias M. Ammons called in the Colorado National Guard. They were under the command of Adjutant General John Chase who had previous experience in such matters when he dealt with a violent strike in Cripple Creek ten years earlier. He imposed his force upon the Ludlow striking miners.

On 10th March 1914 when the body of a replacement worker was found on the rail tracks near Forbes he believed that the strikers had murdered him. Chase ordered that the tent village at Forbes be destroyed in retaliation. Fortunately, all the Forbes inhabitants were attending a funeral for infants who had died a few days earlier.

Later, but still in the spring of 1914, the state ran out of money to finance the guard and they were withdrawn. The coal companies were allowed to finance a militia who were company guards but allowed to wear National Guard uniforms.

On the morning of 20th April, three such guards appeared at the Ludlow tent village. They demanded the release of a man whom they claimed was being held there against his will. While the camp leader was having a meeting with the militia leader half-a-mile away, other guards set up a machine gun above the village. When the leader saw this happen, he ran back to the village, armed some of his men and tried to outflank the machine gun post. A gunfight ensued.

The ‘war’ raged all day with more company guards (not in uniform) arriving to help the militia. A passing freight train stopped in front of the machine gun placement, which allowed many women and children from the camp to escape to the hills. By 7pm the tent village was torched and well ablaze. The militia then entered the camp and began looting the burnt-out tents. Some of the strikers were captured by the militia and were later found shot dead. Their bodies were left by the side of the rail tracks for several days in full view of passing train passengers. They were not removed until complaints were received from the local rail union.

During the days fighting, two women and eleven children who had been hiding in a pit inside one of the tents were burned/suffocated to death when their tent was set alight. Two other women with them survived. Three company guards and one militiaman were also killed that day.

This episode in Colorado mining history became known as the ‘Ludlow Massacre’ and was part of what is known as the ‘Colorado Coalfield War’, the most violent labour conflict in US history.

Ironically, the UMWA ran out of money and the strike was called off on 10th December 1914. However, as a result of their actions many laws were passed and enforced that saved thousands of miners lives over the coming years. Conditions improved and safety became a priority. In 1916, the mining Union purchased the site of the Ludlow tent village and erected the Ludlow Monument in memory of those who died during the strike.

--------Mike------------

Subversion....

Subversive Submarines…

You will of course remember all the furore during the Invasion of Iraq about the issue of ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction’ and the fact that they were never in fact discovered. Well, much to my surprise, the story I am going to tell you about is something on similar lines. It involves the forerunners of the Irish Republican Army (the IRA or Provos) and their plan to build the first submarine, carry it upon a merchant vessel, launch it and sink one or more ships of the British Navy. It’s true of course and the submarine was in fact built but never used.

It all started when John Philip Holland was born in Liscannor, County Clare on 29th February 1840 and became a teacher – a Christian Brother at one stage. He emigrated to America in 1873 and continued his teaching. He was one of four brothers and was part of a Gaelic speaking family. He did not learn English properly until he started school. He and his brother Michael were both active in the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB).

He was a schoolmaster in Cork when the American Civil War was in progress. He followed the newspaper reports with a keen interest. He paid particular attention to the battle between the Monitor and the Merrimac on 9th March 1862. These were two iron clan ships, one on either side of the Civil War, which had most of their hulls and decks below the waterline. He noted the havoc that they inflicted on ‘ordinary’ wooden ships of the time. It convinced him that wooden ships of war were a thing of the past. Not only that, but he also began to play with the idea of a totally submerged ‘submersible’. He fully realised that England, with all her power, would quickly follow suit and create havoc on the other navies of the world. He began to take an even more active interest in engineering and began playing with the idea of controlled flight. It was while he was still in the Christian Brothers teaching that he began to design his first ‘submarine’.

He made numerous mechanical contraptions at the school and kept his classes fully engaged with his unauthorised lessons on engineering, flight and submarines. Years later many of his pupils spoke of him with the highest regard and respect.

He was due to take his final vows at Christmas 1872 but when his mother and brother left Ireland for America earlier that year, he decided to leave his vocation and follow them. He sailed via Liverpool on 26th May 1873.

After a fall on an icy street in Boston he was confined to his rooms. He began to seriously consider the problems of submarine navigation. He tore up all his previous designs and started again from scratch. He was surprised that his basic designs had not changed from his original plans, which he had produced in 1869. He once again joined the teaching profession in Paterson, New Jersey.

In 1876 John’s brother Michael introduced him to members of the Irish Fenian Brotherhood. They had sufficient funds to finance strikes against the English. It was with them that he agreed, after convincing them of his capabilities, to build his first three submarines. He called the final one ‘The Fenian Ram’ but after disagreements among the leadership over the use of the ‘skirmishing fund’ money, they stole the submarine and a 16-foot model in November 1883. The Fenian Ram had limited success on a test run. John broke up with the Fenian Brotherhood and never had anything to do with them after that.

As I said at the beginning, it was their plan to conceal the submarine on a large merchant ship, sail close to some English warships, release it from the bottom of the merchant ship and attack the warships. Although daring to the extreme, with a little more testing, it is most likely that the plan would have worked.

Several other engineers were very interested in the principle of submarines and in fact several were built. John joined one of these companies, which had connections with the US Army.

John married in Brooklyn on 17th January 1887 and they had a child in 1888. Unfortunately, the baby boy died in infancy.

Things were now beginning to warm up with the Army and Navy and other foreign powers greatly interested in submarines and the rush to have the first truly serviceable fleet.

In 1888, the US Navy Department announced an open competition for it’s first true submarine with stringent specifications. Against fierce competition, both at home and from abroad, John Holland won hands down. However, no contract was awarded. John lost interest for a while and returned to the principal of powered flight.

On 3rd March 1893 Congress set aside $200,000 to cover another competition for a submarine and shortly after John joined a company owned by Elihu B. Frost. He was paid $50 per month as General Manager. John Holland again won the competition but the Navy Board decided to give further examination to another entry, that of George Baker. This was in fact built in 1891 and trialed in 1892.

John continued with his venture and began building the ‘Plunger’ to the Navy’s specifications. He was becoming frustrated with the Navy as there were many delays and changes. By autumn of 1896 he realised that it was going to be a failure. Instead of continuing, he received permission from his company to build the Holland V! as a private venture – free from interference from the Navy.

The submarine was built at Nixon’s Crescent Shipyard in Elizabethport, New Jersey in spring 1897 and was launched on 17th May 1897. He learned a great deal during the trials and began planning improvements for the Holland V11. He forwarded his drawings, specifications and plans to the Navy in November 1899.

Suddenly, when everything seemed perfect, John Holland began discussions with the Netherlands Navy about building submarines of his designs in Europe. His American company and indeed the US Navy were totally against losing John Holland’s designs. Needless to say, litigation followed. The result was in fact satisfactory for him as the company gave him a new contract. Some of the terms were that he would be consulting engineer for five years at a yearly salary of $10,000. In exchange he would have to sign over all his current and future submarine patents to the company. For that he was given 500 shares with a market value of £35,000.

On 7th June 1900, the Appropriations Committee for the Navy provided for the company to build five Holland submarines under the supervision of a Naval Constructor Lawrence Spear. He had no experience with submarines and he and Holland argued constantly.

When Spear was poached by the company from the Navy and made Vice-president, John Holland had had enough. He resigned on 28th March 1904, at the age of 63 years.

In his private capacity he designed a submarine capable of 22 knots but when he presented the details to the Navy they declined his offer as they considered the speed far too dangerous and that 6 knots was the safest speed. When his old company heard of his plans, once again litigation followed. Basically they asked that he be barred from designing, planning, building or in fact having anything to do with submarines, boats or ships. Holland lost but appealed. He claimed that the company was trying ‘to prevent him from using his brains and inventive talent in building submarines for the balance of his life’. Notwithstanding his sound argument, (albeit that he had in fact signed a contract to that effect), his backers deserted him and the company’s lawsuit had its desired effect.

John Holland withdrew from public life and resumed his work on aircraft. Aviation experts who have examined his designs and plans state that they would have worked but he was beaten by the Wright Brothers and abandoned his research.

On 12th August 1914, he caught pneumonia at the age of 73 years and died. ‘Forty days later, the German Navy’s U-boat 9 torpedoed three British cruisers off the Dutch coast. A submarine of four hundred and fifty tons, manned by twenty-six men had sunk thirty-six thousand tons of the enemy’s ships and had sent fourteen hundred men to their death in the North Sea’.

So what did I say at the beginning about ‘Weapons of Mass Destruction’? Old John Holland and the forerunners of the IRA were only a few years ahead of their time.

Irish ingenuity I ask you !!!

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Another Little Annie:

A Great Big Adventure – AND Ten Dollars….

Little Annie Moore was aged 14 and thought, with a little tear in her eye, about her upcoming 15th Birthday on New Years Day. It would be the best birthday of her short life for with a little luck and fair weather she and her two brothers Phillip and Anthony would be reunited with their parents whom they had not seen for nearly four years. It was her father who had sent home sufficient money to pay for the three tickets for the fare that would take them by ship to join them in a new life in a New World.

She had been born on the 1st January 1877 in a small village just outside Cork City and had on many occasions watched the large ships sail out into the Atlantic taking emigrants who would never more see their native land. She was not old enough to have seen those ‘poor wretched wrecks of humanity’ as her grandmother called them, make their way from distant places to leave behind the Famine that was then ravishing most of Ireland. She had learned in School of the hundreds of thousands who had either died or emigrated during the five or six years of famine.

Her parents had left their three children in the careful hands of their grandmother when they had decided to emigrate themselves. They had sailed on a bright summer’s day in 1888 and little Annie could not wait to be reunited with them. It would not be long now.

She had now read the letter from her father and mother – a very long letter at that – over and over again. The instructions were very important for if she was not prepared for what might happen when she arrived at their destination; all sorts of problems might arise.

She and the two boys had repeated her parent’s address over and over again and made sure that they had fully remembered all the other instructions. The address was 32 Monroe Street, Manhattan, close to where her father worked in the Fish Market. He had said that the ship would most likely berth not far away at Castle Garden Immigration Depot but that the new reception at Ellis Island might be completed before their arrival.

Before leaving the ship, Annie was to carry a damp cloth in her bag. She did not understand the reasoning but her father said that if anyone wrote a letter in chalk on any of their coats she was to quietly wipe it off without being seen. They were to look happy and smile and no matter how tired they were from the journey, they were to walk upright and not slouch going up the stairs to the examination area. There were 19 questions to be answered and the children were each to have the answers written down in case of any problem. They were to answer them however, without reference to the notes if at all possible.

December the first eventually came leaving only ten days to go. Annie, and in particular Anthony were so excited that they did not sleep much over the following nights. Phillip did not seem to be excited at all for he had, even at the tender age of 12 made up his mind that as soon as he could afford the ticket, he would return to Cork and his grandmother whom he adored.

The packing was completed with days to spare and on the 10th December in heavy rain, grandmother and children made their way to the docks where the steamship Nevada waited. Without any fuss or ado, Granny Moore kissed them farewell and pushed them towards the gangway. Phillip ran back to her and gave her his promise of his return.

The trio made their way along the gangway and handed over their tickets. They were taken to a small cabin with three bunks. After settling in, they made their way to the deck where they were able to wave to their grandmother who stood in the rain among hundreds of other elderly people. Annie felt sad and elated at the same time. About three hours later a blast was heard from the ship’s hooter and the ship gently moved away from the dock. Annie looked and sure enough their grandmother still stood as if nailed to the spot where she had been for the full three hours. They waved but quickly the ship moved out into the channel and away from Cork.

Annie and Phillip would once again see Ireland but Anthony would not. He it was who would take to America like a ‘duck to water’ and quickly forget his Irish home.

They got into a routine on board ship with little or nothing to do. They walked the deck when the weather was fine but for most of the journey it was either misty or a fine drizzle. They ate well and slept a lot. Christmas on board was a special day with the festivities going on for three days.

On the 31st December at about 8pm they weighed anchor in the Hudson River and when they asked a crewmember they were told that they would disembark at about 9am the next morning. They had very little sleep that night.

Next morning as they had been told, the ship made it’s way to what looked like a brand new facility. As it turned out, it was Ellis Island Immigration Reception. It was open for business for the first time. It was also Annie’s fifteenth birthday.

When the ship docked they were lead down the gangway and into a large hall. A very officious man in uniform came up to the three children and asked, "How old are you three". Annie answered pointing to Anthony and Phillip "They are ten and twelve and I am fifteen today". "Fantastic" the man replied "just what we are looking for". They were taken to the first floor and were in fact the first passengers to reach there. The man took the three forward to the immigration officer.

The immigration official began to ask questions which Annie rattled off. She did likewise for the two boys and they were granted permission to land. It was then that the original official gentleman stepped forward and said aloud to some nearby men who turned out to be reporters: "I would like to welcome to America, this young Irish lassie who is not only celebrating her fifteenth birthday today but is also the first person to enter America through this wonderful facility". There was some clapping and he handed something towards Annie. It was in fact a ten dollar gold coin.

As they made their way out to meet their parents, little Annie was not to realise that she was the first of about 12 million people to pass through the building before it’s closure on 12th November 1954.

Incidentally, the last person through the facility before it closed was a Norwegian seaman named Arne Peterssen.

Oh yes, about the damp cloth she was told to have ready when she entered the Reception: The Immigration officers used to watch the people as they left the ships and climbed the stairs towards the main area. If they noticed anything particular such as obvious signs of illness or insanity or such, they would chalk a code letter on the back of the person suspected. Many literally wiped the mark off before having their medical examination in the hope that it would not be noticed again and their entry to the United States refused.

It is a fact that Annie went on to marry a German immigrant named Augustus Schayer with whom she had at least eleven children. She died of heart failure in 1923 aged 46 years. Her grave was discovered in 2006.

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The story of Annie Moore being the first person through Ellis Island is a fact. She was from Cork. Many of the other bits and pieces in the story are facts, but many are a figment of my imagination….
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Heroes one and all..

The Cruel, Cruel Sea….

I am not a mean person but when it comes to ‘charity’, I have strong feelings. I do not give to people who collect door-to-door. I do not give to ‘beggars’, as from experience in the Police, I know that the majority spend any money given on drugs. I do however give to, and always have done so, to the Salvation Army and those noble men of the sea, the Royal National Lifeboat Institute.

It is a quirk in the British mentality that these brave men are all volunteers and receive no funding from Government, either local or nationally. To a man they are all brave individuals who give their time and occasionally their lives to save those stricken by foul weather at sea by doing all forms of rescues.

As most of my postings are historical and usually go back, in some cases, centuries, I was reminded today of a tragedy that shook the British people and especially those of us who hold the RNLI in such high regard. I write of the Penlee Lifeboat Disaster of 19th December 1981.

A Dublin-registered cargo ship, the Union Star, was making her maiden voyage from Holland to Arklow in Ireland carrying a cargo of fertiliser. It had a crew of five and the Captain, Henry Morton had with him his wife Dawn and two teenage daughters. They were travelling together as they wanted to spend Christmas together even if it meant being on board ship.

The ship developed engine trouble when it was about eight miles off Wolf Rock off the coast of Cornwall in the Southwest of England. Captain Morton was unable to restart her engines. Assistance was offered by a Salvage Tug, the Noord Holland but due to what is known as ‘Lloyd’s Open Form salvage contract’, he refused the offer as he did not wish to take the responsibility for his owners having to pay an undetermined amount for salvage. Morton was happy that he could restart the engines and continue on his journey. The seas were rough but manageable.

It is quite common for Salvage Tugs to listen out on their radios for ships in distress and offer their services. A panel of adjusters at Lloyds of London determines the fees for such assistance. The Open Form Salvage Contract (LOF) provides a regime for determining the amount of remuneration to be awarded to salvors for their services in saving property at sea and minimising or preventing damage to the environment. Originating from the late 1800s it is probably the most widely used international salvage agreement of its kind in the world today. Although the shipping companies accept it, I firmly believe that it is similar to the ‘Ambulance Chaser’ lawyers that one reads about in America.

As the ship drifted in the increasingly roughening seas the fuel supply became contaminated by seawater. Morton put out a distress signal to the Falmouth coastguard. The winds rapidly increased to 80 mph gusting at times to 95 mph – equalling hurricane force 12 on the Beaufort scale. The ship was slowly but surely being pushed towards the rocks of Boscawen Cove.

A Royal Navy Sea King helicopter, which was sent, was unable to remove any of the eight people on board the ship.

At Penlee Point, near Mousehole (pronounced Mewsell) preparations were being made to launch the lifeboat Solomon Browne. She was a wooden 47 feet Watson class lifeboat crewed by eight local men from the village. All were experienced seamen chosen from the twelve volunteers who answered the maroon alarm. The Coxswain, Trevelyan Richards insisted that only one man from each family be taken due to the ever-worsening conditions.

When the Union Star was being driven ever closer to the rocky cliffs, Richards took the lifeboat headfirst into the storm. He made several unsuccessful attempts to get alongside the ship. As soon as he managed to do so, the lifeboat was thrown, not once but twice up onto the deck of the Union Star and on each occasion, it slid back into the sea. The seas had a swell of over fifty feet and continued to bash the lifeboat against the ship. The radio messages from each craft were being monitored back at the RNLI on shore.

Again, the lifeboat came alongside the ship and on this occasion four people, believed to include Morton’s wife and children managed to get aboard the lifeboat. Once more it made another attempt to save the four remaining members of the ship’s crew but on this occasion, both radios fell completely silent. It is believed that the lifeboat was on this occasion washed completely over the ship by a sixty foot breaking wave. Nothing further was heard from either.

Other lifeboats from distant places began to make their way to the area against treacherous seas to search for their fellow lifeboatmen. Helicopters and lifeboats carried out, when the winds calmed a little, a more thorough search for survivors but without success. Sixteen lives were lost – eight from the ship and eight from the lifeboat. Eventually eight bodies were recovered – four from each vessel.

The village of Mousehole had a sad miserable Christmas that year with several families with small children finding themselves without fathers and brothers. One of the lifeboat casualties was the landlord of the local public house, the Ship Inn.

All were posthumously awarded medals for their bravery and a memorial was erected.

A massive public appeal raised over £3 million but more importantly, under new legislation, the coastguard was empowered to declare a mayday and authorise salvage on behalf of the ship’s captain thereby limiting the captain’s liability to his owners as in this case.

On the night of the disaster, Nigel Brockman and his son Neil answered the emergency call but the Cox, Richards refused to allow two members of the same family to go to sea. Neil is now the Coxswain of the same lifeboat, albeit, a new one.

And finally, every year on the 19th December, the Christmas illuminations of Mousehole are turned off at 8pm for an hour in remembrance.

If you want modern brave heroes, there is no need to go further than Penlee…….

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The Birkenhead Drill..

"Women and Children First" – The Birkenhead Drill….

We should all be familiar with the call when a Ship’s Captain gives the order to ‘Abandon Ship’, that it is quickly followed by the order ‘Women and Children First’. It was not always so and in most cases of shipwreck it was the case of ‘Every man for himself’.

This all changed when His Majesty’s Ship Birkenhead hit a reef in South African Waters on 26th February 1852. To be more precise, the ‘Birkenhead Drill’ as it quickly became known, was referring to ‘the height of courageous behaviour in hopeless circumstances’. However, it was the first time ever records show that a Captain gave the actual order ‘Women and Children First’ and so it is remembered.

The Birkenhead was built in 1845 in Birkenhead (Liverpool) as a Navy Frigate and had steam engines that drove a pair of twenty foot paddle wheels. It also had two masts for sail when conditions were satisfactory for that mode of travel. She was one of the first iron-hulled ships built by the Royal Navy. However when the actual first iron ship, (Brunel’s SS Great Britain), went aground outside Dublin in November 1846, it was found to be nigh impossible to refloat her. For that reason and the fact that cannon that hit the hull could cause jagged holes that were difficult to plug, she was turned into a troopship. A further minor reason was the fact that the more efficient ‘propeller’ had been invented and made the ‘paddle’ inefficient in comparison.

In actual fact, when efforts to refloat Brunel’s Great Britain were successful in August 1847, HMS Birkenhead was used for pulling power.

In January 1852, ‘The Kaffir War’ was ongoing in South Africa and the Birkenhead left Portsmouth in the South of England carrying troops from several different regiments. It stopped at Cobh (then Queenstown) in County Cork and picked up more soldiers. Many of these were victims of the Great Famine and had joined up in order to get three meals a day.

On 23 February 1852 it arrived safely at Simonstown near Cape Town in South Africa. Most of the women and children, mainly families of officers, disembarked together with many sick soldiers. Nine cavalry horses and food for them were loaded for the next leg of their journey to Algoa Bay.

On 25th February she set sail with about 643 men, women and children aboard. The Captain had orders to make full speed to his destination. In order to do so, he decided to hug the coastline and he charted a course, which was basically three miles off shore. The sea was calm and they maintained a steady 8.5 knots.

The night was clear with the ‘leadman’ taking regular depth soundings known as ‘swinging the lead’. At 2am on the 26th February, the depth reading suddenly dropped to 12 fathoms (22 metres). Before he could give a warning or take another reading, the ship struck an uncharted rock near Danger Point, Western Cape.

Apparently the rock is visible during rough weather with the rising and dropping of the waves but in calm weather in remains hidden. The initial impact tore a large hole in the forward section. However, this was an airtight compartment and would not have been disastrous albeit that it flooded an area where over 100 soldiers were sleeping in hammocks. A second impact was deathly. It ripped open the bilges in the engine room.

The surviving officers and men were assembled on deck where Lieutenant-Colonel Seton took charge of all military personnel. He stressed the necessity to maintain good order and discipline. His commands were issued and received in total silence and there was no panic. Distress rockets were fired but no answer was seen. Men were set to the pumps and others began to try to launch the lifeboats.

That was where the disaster really began to happen. Poor maintenance and hardened paint on the winches resulted in only a few being launched. Two large boats with a capacity of 150 men each were among those unable to be launched. It was then that the order was given ‘Women and Children First’. The youngest soldiers in order of age took up the remaining places. The boats were then rowed away from the ship.

It was anticipated that those remaining on board would swim to the boats but Seton foresaw the danger of doing so. He believed that the boats would be swamped in such an event. He then issued the order for the men to ‘Stand Fast’. The soldiers did not move other than to release the horses into the sea in the hope that they would swim to shore – a distance estimated at two miles. The remaining soldiers continued to hold their ranks until twenty minutes after hitting the submerged rock, the ship began to break up and sink. It was then that they were washed into the sea.

The waters were shark-infested and many of the men were killed. A strange fact emerged in that those who stripped off were invariably killed by the sharks whilst those who kept on at least some clothing managed to swim to the shore uninjured.

Of the 643 who were believed to be on board, only 193 survived. Eight of the nine horses made it safely to land. There is little or no doubt that had discipline not been maintained on board the sinking ship as ordered by Seton and the men had swamped the lifeboats, there would have been a total disaster with few if any survivors.

Over several years after the disaster, there was a persistent rumour that the Birkenhead was carrying a military payroll of £240,000 in gold coins – about three tons in weight. Over the years, right up to the late 1980’s, teams of Salvage Companies have endeavoured to recover it. With the exception of a few personal gold coins, they have been unsuccessful. However, in 1989, the British and South African governments signed an agreement to share salvage of the wreck and share any gold recovered.

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A Step Too Far....

A Shakespearean Farce…

Many people who commit fraud, deception and even crime invariably go one step too far and end up being found out. I suppose it is because they find that with practice, it all seems too easy and they decide to ‘go for one last big job’. Probably over-confidence also plays a large part.

And so it was back in the eighteenth century in London. William Henry Ireland was born there in 1777, the son of Samuel Ireland. The father was an accomplished self-taught artist who specialised in illustrated travel books. He was also what would be known nowadays as a ‘Shakespearean Anorak’. He was absolutely mad about the man, his works and anything whatsoever to do with him. He actually read the Bard’s works nightly to his family.

In 1795 when William was eighteen, he accompanied his father to Stratford-upon-Avon where the elder was painting some Views of the local River Avon. Whilst there, William observed his father buying a ‘purse and chair’ that had belonged to Shakespeare. This later proved to be false with Samuel being conned out of his money. However, his passion for anything to do with his hero never waned.

William soon began to take an avid interest in the same subject and became a collector of books and antiquities. He was also working for a lawyer who specialised in property transfers. He had access to numerous ancient mortgage deeds and other documents. Many were centuries old. As he was formulating a plan in his mind at this early stage, he began to ‘steal’ blank pages from the documents and other portions of the deeds that were blank. He then began experimenting in an attempt to produce sixteenth century ink. He began to practice and produced several ‘ancient’ documents, which he showed to his father. Samuel was duped and deemed them genuine.

The stage was set for his first major attempt at ‘forgery’. He was fully aware that his father had an earnest desire, bordering on the insane, to own a document, any document, signed by Shakespeare.

In December 1794, William informed his father that a wealthy acquaintance of his was in possession of a large quantity of old documents. Among them, he claimed, was a deed bearing the signature of William Shakespeare. He told his father that his friend would present it to him as a gift provided that he remains totally anonymous. William gave the ‘document’ to his father whose dream had at last come true. He even had it authenticated by experts as the genuine article.

Now this is where William began to step over the mark. He had in fact made his father totally content. He had fooled the experts. So why go further? It was not in fact greed. Maybe it was the fact that he had fooled the experts. Who knows? - except that he did in fact continue.

He next produced a promissory note (a type of cheque/bearer bond) signed by Shakespeare and later a long letter in the hand of Shakespeare. He claimed that they came from his anonymous friend’s chest of documents. He then produced a ‘Confession of Faith’ written entirely by Shakespeare declaring him to be a loyal Protestant. William then began to boast of even greater treasures to follow.

Personally I think he was now quite mad in a strange sense of the word. His father was totally satisfied with what he had but William was not. He next produced several pages of ‘original’ Shakespeare manuscript for Hamlet. Next came love letters to Anne Hathaway and above all a letter to Shakespeare from Queen Elizabeth First. This was followed by the entire manuscript of King Lear. So-called experts who examined them deemed all were authentic.

This was when the bold William should have stopped. But he didn’t. He went for the ‘one last big job’. He produced a manuscript for a previously unknown Shakespearean plan entitled Vortigern and Rowena.

The Irish playwright, Richard Sheridan secured the rights and planned to produce the plan at his Drury Lane Theatre. The news was beginning to cause a stir among Shakespearean fanatics. In the meantime, Samuel published ‘Miscellaneous Papers and Legal Instruments under the Hand and Seal of William Shakespeare’. This caused an even greater stir. Questions were beginning to be asked about their authenticity.

The play was now in production and all those concerned considered it to be of poor quality, probably by a young Shakespeare. The actors made their thoughts known that they did not believe it to be the Bard’s work in any shape or form. Things were beginning to fall apart.

The play opened on 2nd April 1796 to a packed house. The production began to collapse and ended in disaster. It closed after its only performance.

The world was falling around the two Irelands. Some believed that Samuel was responsible and when he published an admission that he was the sole author of them all, the matter seemed to be over. He died in 1800 having no contact with his son.

Five years later, William wrote ‘The Confessions of William Henry Ireland’ in which he tried to clear his father’s name and put the affair to rest. It did not. Wherever he went in England he was recognised for what he was – a forger. He left and moved to France where he lived for about ten years. He returned to England in 1832 where he lived a quite and peaceful life until his death in 1835.

Had the bold William stopped after forging the first two or three items, no one would have been the wiser, as his father would have been the happiest man in all England. Instead, he had to go completely overboard and attempt the impossible. I honestly believe that there is a type of madness that comes to people in his situation.

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Hoax or Fraud...

The Story of the ‘Piltdown Man’….

Piltdown Village is situated in East Sussex, in the South of England. It’s claim to fame, or should I say, infamy, came in 1912 when workmen gathering gravel from a local pit near the village made a discovery. They uncovered fragments of a skull and jawbone. They were examined by all the experts of the day who concluded that they came from the fossilised remains of an unknown form of early human. They became known as ‘the Missing Link’.

Although found by the workmen, Charles Dawson claimed to be the ‘finder’ which resulted in the fossils being named ‘Eoanthropus dawsoni’ or ‘Dawson’s dawn-man’. The ‘find’ excited the experts at the British Museum as a search for a ‘missing link’ had been ongoing for many years and appeared then to be necessary to complete Darwin’s ‘The Origin of the Species’. The ‘jump’ from Ape to humanoid necessary to prove the theory had never been found.

All the experts of the day agreed with the conclusion and numerous papers (over 250) were written on the subject during the following years. Methods of dating such finds were not yet formulated at the time.

Textbooks were written and taught at schools and colleges for the following forty years and probably the most important use of the information was when used during the ‘Scopes Monkey Trial’ when Charles Darrow introduced it as evidence in defence of Scopes the schoolteacher. (The trial was turned into a play and several films – probably the best being ‘Inherit the Wind’ starred Jack Lemmon and George C. Scott in 1999).

Further searches at the gravel pit resulted in other ‘fragments of skull and bones’ being discovered. They and the originals were presented to the Geological Society of London and together with the British Museum, the skull was reconstructed. It was agreed that it was neither ape nor modern human but in fact ‘the Missing Link’. There was certainly some of the scientific fraternity who did not agree, arguing that parts were fossil skull fragments from elsewhere and the lower jawbone of an ape.

The Royal College of Surgeons in London was given copies of the fragments and they too made a reconstruction. It was totally different from that produced by the British Museum. However, the Museum won out with the claim that the ‘missing link was in fact British’. There were racist and national feelings at stake and it appears that there was an element of ‘The Emperors New Clothes’ about the whole affair.

In 1915 and 1923 the ‘findings’ were challenged by eminent palaeontologists who found in the first instant that it was a fossil cranium and an ‘ape-like’ jawbone. The 1923 findings were in fact correct when Franz Weidenreich reported that they consisted of a human cranium and an orang-utan jaw with filed-down teeth.

The ‘Piltdown Man Hoax’ was exposed for what it was, yet it took another thirty years for the British (and other) scientific community to agree that Weidenreich was correct in all aspects.

It was The Times newspaper in London who used the most up-to-date techniques in 1953 and in November of that year published their findings. A professor of anthropology from Oxford University showed that the fossil was a composite of three distinct species. Part was a human skull of medieval age, the 500-year-old lower jaw of a Sarawak orang-utan and chimpanzee fossil teeth. Staining with an iron solution and chromic acid had aged the bones. The teeth showed that there were file marks suggesting that someone had modified them to give a shape more suited to a human diet. Further more modern tests in the 40’s and 50’s with advanced dating technologies scientifically proved the entire affair a fraud or hoax.

Why was the hoax perpetrated? It would appear that the British Scientific community wanted a ‘first Briton’ to compete with other hominids found in Europe in particular France and Germany. Certain elements did not wish to admit that the first such people came from Africa or Asia. It was also suggested that it was done to disgrace the finder or in fact by Dawson himself to enhance his position in the field. It could also have been done as practical joke – with Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame being considered number one suspect by many.

However, the most important aspect of Piltdown Man was the fact that it put back the study of human evolution by over forty years. Other genuine discoveries in South Africa were ignored and the study of human evolution was thrown off track for decades. Time and study lead to a vast waste of man-hours and effort.

I am reminded once again of ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’………….

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Pride....

Too Proud for His Own Good……

Old Patsy was 46, having been born in 1880. He lived in the little village in the centre of Ireland all his life. He grew up seeing good times as well as the bad ones. He had married and now had five children.

The winter of 1925/26 had been a hard one with the ground unfit for the early planting of the sugar beet crop right through to almost June. The bad weather continued throughout the so-called summer that year with little or no work for the father of a hungry young family. The harvest that year was, as a result of the bad weather, extremely poor and provided only a few days work at the local Manor House. Things were looking bleaker by the day. Old Patsy could not see what they were going to do as autumn approached.

He had never asked for charity in his life, nor had his parents but something had to be done. He had paid National Insurance during the few weeks’ work that he had managed to get the previous winter. Mr. Doyle his next-door neighbour fought with him hard and long to make a claim.

Old Patsy was a proud man – let us just say, a hungry proud man – as had been his own parents before him. He had learned from them the hunger they felt during the Great Famine a mere thirty years before he was born. Even then they would not accept ‘Charity’ but insisted on doing any type of work to earn a few shillings. They had contemplated joining the exodus to foreign shores with the thousands around them but decided against it.

They had survived with the family intact and so would Old Patsy – at least that was what he kept saying to his family. Unbeknown to him, the children at school were being fed a little warm meal every day by the schoolteacher from funds from her own pocket but ‘God Forbid’ if ever Old Patsy was to find out.

It was the weekends that Maggie hated. Without the warm school meal provided during the week, she felt the hunger and stomach cramps most severely on Sundays. She felt very guilty about receiving Holy Communion on Sunday and imagining that the ‘Host’ was in fact a sandwich. Although she considered it a sin she dare not confess to the Priest lest he refuse to give her the Sacrament in future.

Jack was different. He in fact killed everything in sight from the smallest bird to the largest. He snared rabbits which he brought home but roasted the birds on a small fire and ate them. As I said – things were hard that year.

Eventually Mr. Doyle, his neighbour, literally took Old Patsy by the scruff of the neck and they rode the donkey and cart into the local Market Town where he again had to drag Old Patsy into the Unemployment Office. The next two hours were taken up queuing and filling in about ten different forms. They left the office and were asked to return two hours later when a decision would be made as to whether or not any payment could be awarded. They walked around the town for the two hours, as neither of them had the price of a glass of beer or even a cup of tea.

Upon their return to the Unemployment Office they were met by an overbearing official who merely said, "You get nothing". Old Patsy, having suffered the indignity of asking for ‘Charity’, even though he was in fact due something, felt ashamed of himself and literally ran from the office.

However, his friend Tom Doyle stood his ground and argued Patsy’s corner in his absence. Although it did not have any effect on the decision, he did in fact learn of the Appeals procedure and something about the ‘Court of Referees’. He left the office and joined Patsy. As they rode the donkey and cart out of the town they came to a crowd of people who were being addressed by a man on a platform. There were signs about the place that mentioned an Election for the Dail Eireann – the new-fangled Irish Parliament.

Old Patsy did not want to get involved in the politics that were sweeping Ireland at the time, the Civil War just having been sorted out. He was a pure Nationalist – for a full Ireland and not that which had been ‘granted’ by the British. As they sat and listened, Mr. Doyle suddenly had a ‘thought’. He did nothing less than wait until the man making the speech had finished and the crowd began to break up, then made his way to the main speaker. He was none other than the local Sitting Member of Parliament who was seeking re-election.

To give him his due, he took full notes of Patsy’s case, and assured him that he would hear from him within a fortnight. In fact, Old Patsy did not say a single word to the man with Mr. Doyle giving all the details.

Once again, true to his word, the MP sent Patsy a letter ten days later giving him details of how to make a fresh claim with a guarantee of some payment. Mr. Doyle was delighted and they wasted no time in making their way to the Unemployment Office. Upon producing the letter, a claim was completed in record time and the princely sum of two pounds two shillings and sixpence was paid out.

Mr. Doyle was not satisfied and immediately filled in an appeals form with a copy sent to the Member of Parliament. Nothing more came of the claim.

However, the following is a genuine extract from a Parliamentary Debate held at Dail Eireann on 8th December 1926:

Mr. McGILLIGAN: Patrick Gorman, of Chapel Street, Ballacolla, last claimed unemployment benefit on the 26th August, 1926. This claim was disallowed in the first instance, but was subsequently allowed as a result of appeal to the Court of Referees. As Mr. Gorman had only 5 unexhausted contributions to his credit in the Unemployment Fund, he was only entitled to 5 days' benefit on this claim, and that amount has been paid to him. He has, therefore, exhausted his right to benefit.

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(The extract from the debate can be found of the web where most of Dail Eireann’s debates etc., are now available. The entire story up to that extract is purely fictional and imagined. Knowing Granddad Gorman, I would give it a high chance of being close to the mark and likewise the doggedness of Mr. Doyle. I would just add that the winter of 1926/1927 must surely have been a hard one for my mother’s family).
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