The Hanging Judge....

Judge Jeffreys – the Hanging Judge….

Back in the 1970’s when I was a young detective working in the deep East End of London, I would regularly have a ‘wet lunch’ in the old Dock area of Wapping. This is quite a famous Cockney part of London.   It is very ancient and steeped in history being on the banks of the Thames and the heart of the old docklands.

In the 80's the Yuppies moved in, the docks were closed and the many warehouses turned into posh apartments. In my drinking days, sometimes, and maybe too often, we would partake in what we called the ‘Wapping Crawl’ where we would have a pint of beer in all the pubs in Wapping. I never did find out how many pubs there were or in fact how many pints we drank but the number is definitely in double figures.

The older officers, and especially the Thames Division River Police, who would often join us, would point out the ‘historical’ sites, especially the gruesome ones.

Beside one of the pubs, The Town of Ramsgate, is ‘Wapping Stairs’, which leads down to the actual river shore. There, they would point out the old wood jutting out of the ground in the water where they would tell us about the people who used to be chained there while the tides came and went. There was an execution dock nearby. It was also there, they claimed and rightly so, that the infamous Judge Jeffreys was captured by a mob whilst trying to board a ship to flee the country in 1688 dressed as a sailor. He was held, for his own protection, in the Tower of London.

This Judge Jeffreys should not be confused with a similarly named Judge from Detroit. Back in spring 1932, a Wilbur Day was brought into court there for carrying concealed weapons. He had no money to retain a lawyer. "Never mind", said Judge Edward J. Jeffries, "I’ll be your attorney. Prosecutor, call your witness!"

With that the judge removed his spectacles and stepped down from the bench. As Lawyer Jeffries, he cross-examined the police officer. He said that he had approached the defendant, searched him and found in his pocket a piece of pipe wrapped in newspaper.

"If it pleases the court" Lawyer Jeffries addressed the vacant bench, "I move dismissal on grounds of illegal search and seizure". He then hopped back up on the bench, put on his glasses and as Judge Jeffries, he gave his ruling: "Counsel’s motion is granted. Case dismissed". Judge Jeffries is then said to have shaken hands with Lawyer Jeffries.

As Wilbur left the courtroom, he was heard to say "The law sure is a crazy business".

Our George Jeffreys was born in Wrexham, Wales in 1648. Although his grandfather was a judge, when George decided on a career in law, his parents greatly disapproved. 

After a Cambridge University education he joined the Inner Temple in 1663. He began to practice law at an early age. He was appointed Solicitor General to the Duke of York, later James 11 and was knighted in 1677. He became a Recorder of London (a formal Judge) in 1678 and at the age of 33, he became Lord Chief Justice of England and a privy counselor. Two years later he became Lord Chancellor.

Historically, the period of his life was full of turmoil. Since the death of Oliver Cromwell (curse and spit at the mention of his name) in 1658, the monarchy was restored. Charles 11 was now on the throne. England’s religions were divided between Catholic and Protestant and things were always on the boil.

The Duke of York, (Jeffrey’s friend) was next in line for the throne when Charles was to die. This he did in 1685 and the throne was taken by James 11 (the same Duke of York). He began to impose Catholicism on the mostly Protestant English. Trouble was brewing in a big way.

Charles 11 had also left an illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth who was the only surviving Protestant claimant to the throne. He organised a rebellion, especially in the South West of England, which was quickly defeated. The ‘rebels’ were arrested and the infamous trials began.

Although great numbers were in fact hanged for treason, the vast majority were sold as slaves to the West Indies – in particular Barbados. This had in fact been the practice for many years. In fact, they were treated worse than African slaves were as they 'cost nothing’.

One of the most horrible aspects of Jeffrey’s courtroom behaviour was the way he would treat those charged. He regularly used foul language and his descriptions of the sentence he was about to impose would regularly cause the poor unfortunate to faint in the dock. He would rant and rave and regularly lose his temper completely.

He did in fact suffer from severe kidney and bladder stones, which must have been a contributing factor but not justification.

His trials of the rebels became known as the ‘Bloody Assizes’ and for men, execution for treason was customarily by hanging, drawing and quartering. It was not as lengthy as other similar tortures but had its impact on involuntary spectators. Women, so convicted were burned alive.

It is interesting regarding the ‘burning’ that not long after this period when some Brahmins of Sindh petitioned to be allowed to commit ‘suttee’ (the burning of widows with their deceased husbands), Sir Charles Napier is quoted as saying "It is your custom to burn widows. Very well. We also have a custom: when men burn a woman alive, we tie a rope around their necks and hang them".

Meanwhile, as James 11 was reeking revenge on all those that had rebelled and not accepted him as King, the powerful Protestants of England were already plotting further. After the execution of the Duke of Monmouth, the only Protestant claimant to the throne was supposedly William of Orange, the husband of James 11’s daughter Mary (yes, he of the Battle of the Boyne fame). William was invited to invade England and drive out James. If successful he would be offered the throne with Queen Mary.

This is the way history went with James escaping to France and William taking the throne.

Jeffrey also tried to make good his escape in 1688 but was mobbed in Wapping and for his own protection, he was held in the Tower of London where he died not long afterwards.

As my old mum used to say, always have something good to say about the dead. On behalf of Jeffrey, later historians have said "The seventeenth-century judge was compelled by important differences in legal procedure to play what seems at first sight an improperly large part in many trials. In actions for treason and for felony, the accused was not allowed counsel. He could himself cross-examine witnesses if he wished, and he might make a statement, but not on oath. In these circumstances the judge had to keep an eye on the prosecution, supervise the defence and himself examine with the greatest severity any witnesses whom he suspected of committing perjury. It was his duty to excavate the facts and present his discoveries to the jury".

However, after all is said and done, Judge George Jeffreys will forever remain known in English history as ‘That Bloody Judge’. 

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

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men......

S.A.S. Retirement Fund……

‘Did you witness the robbery sir?" the young Police Officer asked.

Blinking hell, I was part of it but right now things were beginning to go a little pear-shaped and out of sync with the original plan. ‘So what? I thought to myself, ‘I’ve been in much tighter spots than this.  I'll just have to put Plan B into action’.

The whole idea of a robbery first came up one night back at HQ when the three of us were having a little too much to drink in the Mess.   We were all coming up to our fifties and would be released from the Army within the next couple of months.   Hard living and hard spending meant that we would be unable to continue the life-style that being single and in the elite army unit gave us for the past twenty-seven years.

None of us had a Pension Plan and although the bit of money the Army would give us on discharge would keep us going, it meant that we would have to settle down in civvy-street and get ourselves a mundane job.   The thought of it turned my stomach.

It had been a joke when I first mentioned that we could supplement our savings by doing a blag and was shocked when Steve innocently asked what that was.   Being a country boy it never dawned on me that he would not be familiar with the London term for armed robbery.

Now Johnny, having been in the Ops Room for the last ten years or so immediately got stuck into the idea and his planning over the following weeks was purely military.   The bank we had chosen was known to hold a large sum of money close to the holidays and the route to the London motorway was a mere mile away.   No part of the plan was passed until there were at least three options on every point.

And that was indeed one of those options that I was now preparing to put into action...

As Johnny and Steve were driving steadily down the motorway away from the town towards London, having switched cars twice, I was told later that Steve thought it quite funny that I had been collared by one of the local police officers.

"Paddy will have a bit of explaining to do.  He’s going to have to think on his feet if he is to keep his head above water" he had laughed.   Johnny also thought it funny at the time and when he told me later, he said that he was totally confident I would be able to cover myself with a good story.  Even when in the deepest crap, he knew I could be relied upon.

The uniformed officer had arrived as the getaway car sped off and when he saw me grab a small child out of its path had remarked “Yes sir, you just saved the day - blaggers, no respect for human life. They would have surely killed the child if you had not grabbed her".

Now that I was more or less in the arms of the law, the back-up plan was that I would confuse the issue by giving a false description and index mark of the car and confusing descriptions of the robbers.  Still, with the car switches, it was only a little bit extra to set the police on the wrong trail for even a few minutes.

My part in the whole affair was that I would be a ‘Pavement Artist' whilst the others did the actual bank robbery. I would merely be on standby outside the bank on the pavement in case things went wrong inside. My training and experiences in the Army SAS Unit had equipped me for all sorts of eventualities such as this.  It would be nothing compared with our covert actions behind enemy lines during the first Gulf War.

Although I had a snub-nosed Smith and Wesson revolver tucked into the back of my belt, I had insisted that the actual bullet-heads be removed from the cartridges and cotton wool stuffed into them instead. If need be, the bangs and powder smoke would cause havoc if we had to fire them giving us time to make good our escape.

The mother of the little girl came running up and began to thank me profusely "Please" she said "I would like you to sign something as a memento for little Joanne, please".   "Don't worry dear", I answered, "you can get my name and all that from the police. Tell her to send me a Thank You card".

When the officer had asked for a description of the driver I had said, "Honestly guvnor, I thought they were making a film the way things went. I thought it was that new bloke from the telly last night who was the lead man". 

He looked at me and nodded his head. I was happy that he seemed to know whom I meant. "And the other one?" he asked. "Just a geezer" I answered "nothing special, except that he was as bald as a coot". I knew that was a lie as Steve was as black as the ace of spades and had an obvious short Afro hairstyle. He was a good bloke but inclined to go off half-cocked at times.

Suddenly out of nowhere, a mobile TV unit arrived. It appears that it had been covering a local event and had been redirected here for News 24.

"So you thought it was a film?" the interviewer asked as they began setting up a camera and microphone, "was that before or after you realised it was for real?" I almost told him how stupid his question was in fact. ‘Before or after what?’  I thought. "I think you would be better off asking some of the people who were in the bank" I suggested.

I had made sure that the camera was not yet running and in any case I had kept my back towards it.   With that a man from the dry cleaner’s shop opposite, whom I had been watching since the raid, made his way over to the camera man. "It was him - it was him" he shouted at the interviewer, pointing at me.

Bloody Hell, I nearly wet my pants - surely he can't know my part in it. "Yes" he repeated "that man is a hero, he saved the little girl from certain death.  He deserves a medal". "Phew" I thought out loud "you frightened the life out of me. If you say that again, I will have a heart attack", I jokingly added thinking of all the medals I had been presented with when doing active service overseas.

As the police officer was now well away from me taking notes from other 'real' witnesses, I saw my chance and slipped quietly away into the crowd and down a side street that we had checked a week earlier. After all, no one had my name and I had no record at Criminal Records. There was a very slight possibility that any possible TV picture might identify me, but if traced I could always pretend that I wanted no publicity because of my Army connections.

In any event, I would, if the result of the robbery was what we had expected, be spending the rest of our years on the Costa del Crime in Spain with some of the other big boys from the criminal world.

We had finally collected our retirement fund - without firing a single shot in anger...............

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

The Wild Colonial Boy...

An Australian Terror….

John Patrick Duggan was born on Friday 13^th April 1812 in a small village halfway between Killorglin and Tralee, County Kerry, Ireland.   Not far from where he was born now stands a pub named after him. He was the only son of his mother Mary and father Patrick John. They worshipped the ground he walked upon...........

Things had been good for the family for most of his boyhood but like many poor working class people of the time, disease and famine would soon engulf them.  Many people think that The Great Famine of the 1840’s was a one-off affair. Far from it for there had been many smaller outbreaks of the Blight which destroyed the potato crop (the staple diet of the poor) several times in the previous century. In 1826, when John was merely fourteen, one such severe blight hit the fields of Kerry causing death and destruction in many small rural areas.

His parents did all they could to provide food for their still growing son by collecting mushrooms, wild fruit and nuts and at times they were reduced to cooking the wild nettles and other herbs from the hedgerows. There was no work for his father and times were getting bleaker by the day.

John was known by all the locals as Jack and whenever the salmon and sea-trout were running in the local river, Jack was sure to be seen trying to catch one or two before he was seen by the local bailiff. He was also very adept at catching the odd rabbit or wild goose but once again, the English landlord’s bailiff would shoot first and ask questions later if Jack was seen up to his old tricks.

Whenever Jack was successful in catching or snaring something, Mrs. Duggan was always the first to share her good fortune with her neighbours who were just as badly off as her family.

It was March 1827 when Jack and his father were preparing their smallholding for the planting of a new crop of potatoes. There was a cold easterly wind blowing, which caused them fear as to when they would actually plant. Seed potatoes were like gold dust and they could not afford to get the timing wrong.

From overhead there suddenly came the sound of a flight of wild geese heading towards the small lake about a mile away. Jack and his father were not the only ones to hear them, for so too did the Landlord’s Bailiff.

At about 9pm, Jack left the house as dusk began to fall. His parents saw him go but did not say a word to him. He had his small net and rope wrapped around his waist and he silently made his way down the inside of the hedgerows towards the lake.

His eyes soon became accustomed to the dim light of twilight and he could hear the sound of the geese not far away. He took out the rope and net, lay down on the damp grass and crawled towards the water’s edge. There were two geese close to the shore and without making a sound Jack threw the net over one of them. With that, all hell broke loose...........................

They say that geese make better ‘watchdogs’ than actual dogs by the noise they make and these wild ones were even noisier.

As he pulled the net to shore he was aware of someone or something coming up behind him. There was a shot from a shotgun, which did not hit him but caused a large splash in the water’s edge close to him.   It was then that Jack heard the words he had feared hearing for a long, long  time. "Stand where you are Jack Duggan or the next barrel is yours" a rough voice spoke.

Jack was tempted to make a run for it, or even to jump into the water, but the voice sounded only a few yards away. Within seconds, two men came up, one of whom Jack immediately recognised as the Bailiff Jones. They tied his arms to his body and put a noose around his neck. One took the net and released the goose. They then pulled and pushed Jack towards the road. They continued about half-a-mile where he was put into the back of a horse and cart and taken away.

About an hour later he was lodged at the local gaol. The next morning, he appeared before the Magistrate, who was incidentally also the Landlord and owner of the lake and its surrounding land. The charge was read and with little further ado, he was sentenced to be transported to Australia.  Five other young men and one woman suffered the same fate as Jack for similar offences of stealing corn from the Manor House store, turnips from the fields or poaching.

He was detained in the local gaol for two months, until on 1^st June 1828, the prison ship appeared in the bay. Again with little ado, he and the others were brought aboard and taken down below. His journey to the other side of the world would commence with the tide.

Little did he know, but his broken-hearted mother and father spent the next six hours with other parents and relatives on the harbour wall until the ship sailed out to sea. None of them would ever meet their families again.

The journey to Australia took the best part of eight weeks and it was not until they had been at sea for over a week that they were allowed up on deck to wash and have some fresh air.

On arrival at Botany Bay, they were taken ashore and ‘leased out’ to farmers and settlers. Jack went to a family called Johnston and began his journey to their homestead in the back of a cart. His hands remained tied as he sat in the back of the cart on some old sacking.

They had travelled about eight miles and were well away from the port when Mr. Johnston stopped the wagon. "Do you want a drink of water?" he asked of Jack. "If you please sir" he replied and with that Johnston untied his wrists. Jack took a large drink of water and his hands were retied.

The ties were not as tight as those done by the sailors were and whilst Johnson walked towards some trees, Jack managed to untie his hands. He slid down the side of the wagon and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran in the direction they were heading so as not to head back to the port.

As he ran he saw animals the like of which he had never seen before. He saw birds that were like nothing in the whole of Ireland. He even saw some natives who frightened him by their nakedness but offered him no harm. He continued running for at least two hours even though the heat was stifling him.

When he came to a small, half-dry riverbed he rested, washed and drank. He decided to take stock of his situation. He had nothing. He did not know where he was. He did not know anything about the land he found himself in and basically he did not know what on earth he was going to do. He said three ‘Hail Mary’s’ and asked for help.

Despair was beginning to come into his thoughts when out of the brush close by, walked a white man with a pistol in his hand. "Hand it over" the voice said "Sure I have nothing to give you" Jack replied "with me just hours off the prison ship". 

"Well I’ll be damned" the voice continued "sure that makes two of us. I’ve been on the run for over a year now. Jack Doolan at your service and you are?"  Duggan heaved a sigh of relief and held out his hand "Jack Duggan" he replied, "from Castlemaine, County Kerry, in Ireland". "Me?" Doolan spoke softly "I’m from England myself and I’m here for doing nothing at all". They shook hands, then Doolan indicated that Duggan should follow him.

They worked their way through the brush to a clearing where Duggan was pleased to see a makeshift building. They entered and again he was pleased to see that there was food on a rough table. "Help yourself" Doolan told him.  Jack ate like he had not eaten for the entire sea voyage or in fact, for over a year at home.

Doolan began to clean the pistol he had earlier. As Duggan looked on, Doolan produced another from under a bedroll. "Know anything about guns?" he asked. "No but I am willing to learn if it helps me to get my own back on the bloody English" Duggan replied. Doolan began to laugh. "What’s so funny?" asked Duggan. "I’m English you fool, and it’s me who has the loaded pistol". He continued to laugh and was quickly joined by Duggan. "You know I mean the landlords and the squires" said Duggan "them and their airs and graces. I want to make them pay for what they did to my family and me".

"Right" said Doolan "I’m with you. Let’s make them pay with their money for fleecing the poor folk. Are you on?" he asked. "Every inch of the way" replied Duggan.

The Dooley /Duggan partnership had begun......................... 

"The first thing we have to do" Doolan said "is to get ourselves some horses. That’s the first job. The next is to teach you how to use the gun". For the next two days, Doolan taught Duggan everything about the pistol but because they were short of ammunition he was not allowed to fire it. "There will be plenty of time for that" he said when Duggan asked him.

On the third day, they heard and recognised the sound coming from the nearby track. On looking from the cover of some bushes they saw Mr. Johnson on his horse and cart. Doolan approached and pointed his pistol at Johnson. "Hand over your money to Bold Jack" he said. Johnson did as he was told and Doolan also took his watch. They tied him up and made off with the horse. On return to their hideout they packed their belongings and made their way further into the outback. On the way, they stole another horse from a paddock.

Over the course of the next three months they committed at least one hundred such robberies. If they found that their ‘victim’ was penniless, they always offered some small cash and some food. They would never rob anyone worse off than themselves.

They would take it in turns to do the actual robberies with one playing the part of the Highwayman whilst the other kept hidden in case of emergency. Because of this and the fact that they always used the same introduction about "Bold Jack", people were never sure whether or not there were one or two such robbers.

They also became more daring. They realised that if they went to the outskirts of the town, there were many more potential victims. They would do the robbery then make their way to the outback and comparative safety.

It was on one such outing that they came upon a wealthy looking man driving a fancy carriage with an equally fancy horse pulling it. It was Duggan’s turn to make the challenge. He approached the wagon, produced his pistol and shouted "Hand over your money to Bold Jack". With that the man made a swift movement towards his coat pocket. Jack, fearing it was a weapon, meant to fire a shot above the man’s head but because of lack of practice, he shot him in the chest. Doolan appeared and they took what valuables the man had and made their escape to the outback. Duggan released his own horse and took the one from the carriage.

he man, who was none other than Judge James MacEvoy from Botney Bay, was missed when he failed to turn up at his courthouse at his usual time.

A search party was organised, the robbery discovered and MacEvoy confirmed dead. His deputy contacted the local Military and a detachment was sent to search the area.

A couple of weeks later, the pair again decided to make their way to the outskirts of town. Duggan was well ahead on his new fancy horse. As he rounded a corner in a dried up riverbed he rode straight into a patrol of three officers. The remainder of the troop was spread around.

One of the troopers recognised the description of the horse Duggan was riding. "Stand and surrender in the King’s high name" he called at Duggan. "Like hell" Jack replied and tried to turn his horse around in the narrow gorge. At the same time, he grabbed his pistol. He fired one shot at the trooper and knocked him off his horse.

The other troopers had made ready and before Jack could reload his pistol, one shot at him. He missed. Jack fired at him without fully loading his weapon and sure enough, that trooper also fell to the ground. The third, knowing that Jack had little chance of reloading in time, calmly took aim and shot him through the chest. Jack Duggan died instantly.......................

Jack Doolan, seeing the problem Duggan was in, did an about turn and rode away. There was little or nothing he could have done. He made his way out of the state and started a new life in a distant territory.   He seems to have kept out of trouble for he was not heard of ever again.

Of the two troopers who were shot, Kelly (a fellow Irishman) recovered.   Davis died from his wound.   They and the third, Fitzroy (another Irishman) were awarded high commendations  for their ‘bravery’.

Jack Duggan was taken back to the township where he was buried in an unmarked grave. He was aged sixteen years and two months when he died.........

There are many Robin Hood type stories about the help he gave to the poor in the outback and as a result he became a true Australian folk hero known as The Wild Colonial Boy.......

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

A Scottish Loner....

Alone on a Foreign Shore….

Alexander Selkirk was born in Lower Largo, Fife, Scotland in 1676 and as he was ‘the seventh son’ – Celtic folklore foretold that he would be ‘someone special’. His father was a shoemaker and although Alexander wanted from a young age to go to sea, he instead served his time at his father’s trade. However when he was aged nineteen, he was summoned to attend his Church court for ‘indecent conduct in church’. It is uncertain what exactly he did to earn the summons but as he did not intend to find out, he ran away to sea.............

Within eight years he became Sailing Master of a ship, the ‘Cinque Ports’ and as Britain was at war with the Spanish, he plied his trade by plundering their ships and ports on the Pacific coast of South America. 

Selkirk began to have a rough time with his Captain - a man called Straddling – and as he, Selkirk, did not believe that his ship was seaworthy enough to return to England, he asked to be put ashore on one of the nearby uninhabited islands. He had more or less agreed and expected that he would be joined by some of his crew.

Straddling thought differently and when the time came, he ‘castaway’ Selkirk on his own with nothing more than a musket, some bullets, gunpowder, some carpenters tools, clothing, bedding, tobacco, a hatchet and a Bible.

Alexander knew that the islands were regularly used by other ships to obtain fresh water and supplies so he hoped to be rescued quickly. Like most sailors of the day, he was extremely superstitious and believed in the myth of sea-monsters. He was also scared of the noises that came from inland on the island so spent most of his time in the early days sitting on the beach reading his Bible.

Soon though, he was forced by events to vacate the beach. The seal breeding season began which frightened the life out of him even more than the other noises.  The island was also overrun by rats, which escaped from passing ships. There were many nights when he could not sleep due to their gnawing on his feet. He soon discovered that there were also feral cats on the island, also escapees from ships. Wild goats would provide him with sufficient meat.

He moved inland and began to domesticate some goats, train some cats to keep away the rats, build a home and in fact settle in for the duration. He was fully satisfied that he would be rescued in a short time.

As his clothes wore out, he used the goatskins to make new ones. As he had trained in the leather tanning process, this presented him with little or no problems. He had a site from which he could see the main inlet on the foreshore and he would visit it daily to check for ships arriving.

In was a couple of years in fact before he saw any sign of life when he saw two ships that were in fact Spanish. He feared for his life and was for many days chased by some of the crew who tried to capture him. He, however, knew the island like the back of his hand and succeeded in evading them.

He ended up spending in all four years and four months on his ‘Island’.

On 1^st February 1709 he saw two British ships enter the inlet. He built a fire as a signal to those on board and was soon rescued. The ship was in fact a British privateer, for all intents and purposes a legalised Pirate craft, and was engaged in an expedition against the Spanish.

The Captain informed him that Straddling’s ship had sunk and that the Spanish had captured him and seven of the crew.

Selkirk was soon promoted to Mate on one of the ships and joined in the plunder and attacks on the Spanish. They were quite successful and on their return to London, Selkirk’s share of the spoils was £800, a lot of money in those days.  He opened a harbour tavern.....

It was around this time that he met and became acquainted with Daniel Defoe, a noted writer of the time....................

Selkirk could not settle down and preferred to be on his own. He married a widow but soon returned to sea. He died of fever aboard ship off the coast of Africa in 1721.

Years later, Daniel Defoe used the stories told to him by Selkirk as the basis for that wonderful story ‘Robinson Crusoe’. The Chilean Government also named ‘His’ island, one of the Juan Fernandez Islands, Robinson Cursoe Island and a nearby one, Alexander Selkirk Island.

Although Selkirk was not the only castaway to have been so punished by their captains for causing problems on board ship his story is the most likely basis for Defoe’s narrative.   However, Robinson Crusoe’s island in the book is in the West Indies whilst Selkirk’s was thousands of miles away.

So, the Seventh Son did in fact turn out to be ‘someone special’ – albeit not in his own name…………..

---------Mike-------- 

Time to Get Married....

Tying (or Lying) the Knot….

The year was 1953 and the young Princess Elizabeth had just been crowned Queen in London. Back in the small village in the centre of Ireland, Seamus O’Mahony’s dear old mother, Catherine had just passed away having survived to the ripe old age of eighty-eight. She had been widowed forty years earlier but she and Seamus ran the smallholding, which provided sufficient food and a small income for the pair of them. Seamus was now fifty-nine years old but still fit and healthy....................

One fine spring morning, Seamus got the notion into his head that he should begin to think of marriage. Not for all that love and such nonsense if you don’t mind, merely for companionship and comfort. You see, his mother, like most Irish mothers, had never taught him how to cook even an egg and how to boil water even confused him. He did not mind the future loneliness but he had a great fear of starving to death. He began to look about the locality for a suitable candidate for marriage...............

He listed his assets and decided that his entire lot would not fetch more than a couple of thousand pounds. With that in mind, he was looking for a woman with a similar amount of collateral. He quickly realised that there was not a single suitable woman within ten miles of the village so he decided to confide in one of the village elders, Mr. Doyle, and seek his advice.

Now at that time there was a publication in Ireland called ‘Irelands Own’ with a special section on such arrangements. It appears that it continues to be published and now looks as good as any modern magazine.  However in those days, it was – let me just say – quaint. The ‘personal contacts’ page made fascinating reading and until you realised that the advertisements were in fact genuine, you would have thought that they were all a joke.

In any event, Mr. Doyle sat down with Seamus and they formulated a plan. The following advertisement was written up and sent off for publication:

‘Single farmer, in his fifties, living alone in a beautiful cottage, with own land and livestock seeks the companionship of a single lady with a view to a long-lasting relationship’.

A reply Box Number was given and the paper was to send any replies direct to Seamus for consideration. Mr. Doyle agreed to be the referee and make any decision on those who replied.

Well, the weeks went by with not a single answer and Seamus began to worry. Mr. Doyle assured him that such a delay was normal and that he would be worried only if he had received too many replies in the first week or two. However, on the third week, a single well-written reply was received. It went something like this:..........

‘Sir, I have read with interest your advertisement and consider that I may be the person that you are seeking. I am single, in my early forties and a retired schoolteacher. I have fairly substantial savings and a regular government pension. I would like to further our correspondence with a view to visiting your farm and making any other arrangements you may have in mind’.

The letter was signed ‘Mary Finnegan, Miss’ and included a County Meath address. Seamus had not given his address at any stage as was usual in such circumstances.

Mr. Doyle agreed that she seemed to be ‘a perfect candidate’ for what was required and between himself and Seamus they wrote a letter. They gave the area where he lived but not the address or name of the village.

Three weeks later, Seamus received a further letter from Miss Finnegan. It seemed that she was becoming quite anxious in case he had received better offers. She indicated once again that she would like to visit the village and farm.

Panic set in when Seamus read the letter and he literally ran to Mr. Doyle for advice. "Now calm yourself down" Mr. Doyle coaxed, "there’s no problem at all, at all. Sure we just have to fix up a few things before she arrives and everything will be gameball".   Seamus was not so sure.................

The next day, a Sunday, Mr. Doyle waited outside the small church and spoke with each of the local smallholders as they left Mass. They would meet in Berrigan’s pub later that evening when all would be revealed.

At 8.30pm that evening there were about fifteen local small farmers in the public bar at Berrigans. Mr. Doyle told them of the position with Seamus and outlined what had to be done within the next three weeks. He would write to Miss Finnigan and invite her to stay for a day or two at Seamus’ farm and see how things worked out.  In the meantime, as many men who could spare the time would go to his farm and make the many repairs that were obviously necessary.

Any quality furniture they had in their own homes should be brought along to Sheamus’ farm to make the house more fashionable and presentable. All their prime livestock were to be brought at a later date.

A suitable reply was sent to Miss Finnigan on the Monday and plans were set for her to visit in three weeks time. In the meantime, what had to be done was rapidly being done.

On the day of her arrival, Seamus, closely guarded by Mr. Doyle, met Miss Finnegan at the local railway station. She was quite a good looking woman and quite pleasantly dressed.

Mr. Doyle whispered to Seamus "Begob Seamus, if she’s in her forties, you must be still in your twenties". Seamus could not have given a damn what she looked like or in fact how old she was. All he wanted to know as quickly as possible was ‘Can she cook’.

They rode in style in a wonderful horse and carriage – borrowed from one of the local farmers – and arrived at the ‘new’ gate – again borrowed – at Seamus’ farm. The fields were stocked with fine cattle – the best in the area and of course, all borrowed, while the house looked as if it had only recently been built. It practically was after all the rushed repairs carried out in the preceding three weeks........

They entered the front room where she was surprised to see an upright piano in the corner – again borrowed from the local school and some of the most beautiful furniture that could have been found in numerous houses in the village a week earlier.   A Welsh dresser displayed a wide range of beautiful crockery and other expensive ornaments.

It was obvious that Miss Finnigan was greatly impressed with all she had seen and when she was shown her bedroom she was speechless. It was absolutely beautiful with a log fire burning in the grate.

Mr. Doyle made his farewells and left the couple to their own devices. 

"Seamus", Miss Finnigan spoke quietly."You have obviously gone to a lot of trouble to impress me but I have a confession or two to make. You see, I am really fifty-seven years old and only have meager savings. I do have a reasonable pension but I would not like us to start off on the wrong foot. I am sorry". 

"Don’t be daft Miss Finnigan", Seamus blurted out "sure you look just lovely and have already turned the old cottage from a house into a home. As for confessions, sure and amn’t I the idiot. In trying to impress you sure I borrowed all them cows in the lower field and most of the furniture and fittings from the village folk". 

Miss Finnigan laughed "Arrah now Seamus, sure as long as you have a single cow and can grow some potatoes and vegetables, sure we will be alright". "Do you mean………." Seamus paused "that you can cook as well?"

Ok then, we will leave the pair alone for a week or two and all I will add is that a month later they were married in the local church with Mr. Doyle as Best Man. They did not go on honeymoon but went straight back to the farm where Miss Finnigan or should I say, the now Mrs. O’Mahony cooked Seamus a wonderful roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings......

 "Marriage" Seamus was later quoted as saying "sure now, isn’t it a wonderful institution - especially when the wife can cook".

Oh yes, and by the way, they lived happily ever after……………………..

                                                         .............Mike............ 

Golden Days of Yesteryear....

And What Great Depression Would That Be?

It was December 1935 in the heartland of Ireland and money was as scarce as chickens’ teeth.  Old Patsy was not the only one without two pennies to rub together and with a young family of six children he was at his wits end as to what he and his wife Maggie were going to do for Christmas.   He had tried everything to get a few days work at the Manor House but with the ground being frozen rock hard for the past month there was not an hour’s work on the land to be had anywhere.

The summer had given them a good harvest of potatoes and there were still some small heads of cabbage and turnips in the back garden.    The Christmas dinner this year might not be the best they ever had but at least they would not starve.   They had discussed slaughtering one of the two healthy chickens they possessed but decided against it as they would be needed to provide a young batch of chicks come next spring.

Mr. Doyle and his family next door were also in a similar financial position with regards to his old sow.   She was getting on in years now and consideration had to be given as to whether she should be put down before spring when possibly her final litter of piglets might be born. 

   

The two families always looked after each other at times such as these and the bacon would have been a bonus to both of them.  However, all agreed that the sow should live until after the spring litter of piglets came with the grace of God.............................

It was ten days before Christmas Day and both families were resigned to what was held in store.   “I’ll check the rabbit snares” old Patsy said to Maggie “but I doubt if there is anything in them.   I haven’t seen a rabbit the past month”.  With that, he put on his boots and called his old sheepdog Punch to his side.

  

With his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck he made his way up the lane to the back meadow.    From behind his ear, Patsy removed a dog-end of a cigarette.    It was the last trace of tobacco he would probably see for the next few months.

As he lit it with a match, he scorched his bushy moustache and exclaimed “Bad cess to you, you ould devil”.   In doing so he dropped the cigarette butt which landed in a puddle of muddy icy water.   He continued on his way with the old dog keeping well outside the reach of Patsy’s boot.    A shrewd old dog was Punch and knew only too well that although Patsy was a decent man, when things went wrong, he, the dog was the first to get the blame.

Patsy climbed the gate into the top field and he made his way around the hedgerow.  As he checked the first thirty or so snares he saw not a trace of a rabbit.    As he came to the old fallen down cottage up in the far corner he saw old Punch run off towards the ruins.   “Get back here you ould devil” Patsy called but Punch did not pay him a blind bit of notice.   “Aah to hell with you then” Patsy swore at the dog.

Punch had entered the old house and was out of sight.    As Patsy neared he could have sworn that he heard a low voice calling the dog’s name.    He knew that there should be no one else in the vicinity as basically the only way to the field was up the lane past his cottage.  He stood with his back against the outside wall and listened by the old frameless window.    The voice was talking very softly and somehow it was familiar to Patsy.   He knew that he had heard the voice before but not for many, many years……….

Old Punch came out through the collapsed entrance door and every second or so, he would look back into the house then move a little further away.    Patsy would later swear that he heard the sound of a soft voice saying “Good dog Punch, just a little further” coming from inside the old house.    Punch began to scratch the earth as he often did when he had buried a bone.    He scratched the partly frozen earth away down to a depth of about ten inches.........

“Well done Punch, you’re nearly there” the voice again spoke from inside the broken down house.    Almost immediately, Punch began to bark.    Patsy, who had not moved from where he stood all the time, cautiously took a look inside the broken window.   There was no one or nothing to be seen.  

He moved over to where Punch was now standing and barking and as he looked where the dog had been digging, Patsy saw something shining through the loose earth.    As he bent down he saw that it was  a coin – a shiny coin.   Patsy picked it up and after a gentle rub between his fingers, the golden colour and markings of a half-Sovereign appeared.    A couple of more wipes against his trousers leg and it shone like a new penny.   It was indeed – it was a gold half-sovereign.

“Be Jazus Punch, but you’re a rare ould dog, will you look what you found”   Patsy spoke as he stroked the dog.   Punch allowed him to do so for just as he could tell when Patsy was in a foul mood, he also knew when he was fully in his favour.

However, Punch began to bark again and again gently scratched at the earth.   Patsy looked down and sure enough, there was another coin.    This time it was a full gold Sovereign.    He stood there in amazement and said a little prayer thanking God for his good fortune.    Without further ado, he literally ran over to and jumped the gate and ran back down the lane to Mr. Doyle his neighbour.   He said nothing other than dragging him next door where he picked up two shovels.

“What in the name of God are you up to Patsy?” Mr. Doyle asked “have you lost your senses”.   Old Patsy, after all the excitement and exertion merely showed Mr. Doyle the two coins.   “Tell me Jim” Patsy stuttered “am I seeing things or is this all a dream?”    “Good God Almighty Patsy” Mr. Doyle exclaimed “them’s gold sovereigns.  Where in the name of God did they come from?   Did you rob the Manor House?”

Patsy said nothing but continued to drag Mr. Doyle up the lane and into the field.   When he got to the old building he handed Mr. Doyle a shovel and they both began to dig at the hole that the dog had made.

Well if I tell you that they continued digging until they went down all of four feet and covered an area about ten feet square before they stopped.    In all they found six more sovereigns, two halves and four full ones.   They sat down on the steps of the old house and both men cried..................

That Christmas was one of the greatest ever seen in the village.   Patsy bought himself a new pipe and plenty of tobacco to go with it.   All the children received a wonderful present and every house had a portion of Mr. Doyle’s pig which was slaughtered.   A new and younger one would be bought in March.

One of the half sovereigns was given to the local priest to say Masses for all the dead of the village over the past ten years.    No one was left without, not even old Punch – he lived for the next three months on the bones from the old pig.   Old Patsy never raised his voice, let alone his boot, to the old dog  ever  again…………

Oh yes.   As it turned out the old house had not been lived in for more than forty years and in fact it had belonged to an old uncle of Patsy who had been a sea captain and had come back to the village to live out his retirement.

As for the Great Depression of the Thirties – as old Patsy used to say for many years after the ‘find’ – “And what great depression would that be now.  Sure we never had one of them in our village at all, at all”………………

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