NEW IRELAND (s) - the hope of many immigrants

Young Father John Joseph Hogan was not the only Irish idealist hoping to establish communities for those he described as "people of small means." His exploratory forays into the Ozarks did result, however briefly, in the establishment and growth of a small settlement mostly in Oregon and Ripley counties.

On a Cram's 1875 Missouri map is the enigmatic toponym, New Ireland. It appears to be located near the present day site of Handy, an area that had a heavy concentration of 1859 and 1860 land patents with Irish claimants. No historical society has any documentation or record of new Ireland as a Missouri place name. 

Mystery of the Irish Wilderness, page 76  

Lynn Morrow, noted Ozarks historian, provided this opinion: "Cram's 1875 map has a number of these idiosyncratic place names ... that, like New Ireland, occur for a short time and then disappear and are not repeated by subsequent cartographers, although I (and no one else) have not systematically compared them. I don't know if there is a source that explains where Cram got all of his information, but it's certainly not all from surveys and post office records."

Chapter 20 of Tim Egan's recent best seller, The Immortal Irishman, is entitled "New Ireland."  In it he notes the American consul in Dublin, William West, in the late days of the Civil War proposed rewarding Irish solders for the Union with 'some desirable portion of our territories and call it New Ireland, of which no doubt General Meagher would in due time be elected Governor."

Thomas F. Meagher ("The Immmortal Irishman" of the title) in his post-Civil War career sought to find that 'desirable portion of our territories' for the Irish in Montana Territory. Meagher was painfully aware of the abysmal tenement conditions in which East Coast Irish families mostly lived. Hogan's pre-Civil War concern was the plight of Missouri's Irish (servant girls and railroad workers could not - by the nature of their separate employment circumstances - meet, marry and raise good Irish Catholic families).

Google the phrase, New Ireland, and other locations show up. Some have an actual community associated with it.

!!HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!

In honor of St. Patrick and my Irish ancestors, Lens & Pen Press is offering Mystery of the Irish Wilderness ($18.95 retail) for $15, postage paid, during the month of March!  Order your copy at: http://www.dammingtheosage.com/buy-the-book/
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COMING IN 2017: JAMES FORK OF THE WHITE: Transformation of an Ozark River.  

Sample pages from this new book can be seen at www.beautifulozarks.com 

Our earlier 'river book,' DAMMING THE OSAGE, can be seen at www.dammingtheosage.com

MOUNT IRISH WILDERNESS, Nevada, and new WILDERNESS IN COUNTY MAYO

Some might ask if the "Irish Wilderness" is a geographic place - or an Irish state of mind? Our book Mystery of the Irish Wilderness explored the history of a real place in the Missouri Ozarks, once populated by real Irish immigrants seeking a new life, a place now a component of the National Wilderness system.

Come to find there are other Irish Wildernesses, like Mount Irish Wilderness in Nevada's Basin and Range: "a 28,274-acre parcel less than two hours’ drive north from Las Vegas, harbors the parched region’s most precious resource: water."

And in 2013, The Irish Department of Art, Heritage and Gaeltacht and Coillte signed a Memorandum of Understanding, creating the country's first wilderness area in the Nephin Beg Range of North West Mayo.  This is a project with a twist ... the plan is to "rewild" 4,400 hectares of land to provide "a dedicated wilderness of forest, mountain, bog, river and lakes in the Nephin Beg Range." Wild Nephin is a fascinating and ambitious project, it's "the first of its kind in Western Europe."

An Taoiseach Enda Kenny TD, photographed at Néifinn Fhiáin in North Co. Mayo with from Left to Right Mr. Jimmy Deenihan, Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Dennis Strong National Parks & wildlife Services, and Bill Murphy, Head of Recreation Coillte to mark the  signing of a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) between Coillte and the Department of Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht that designates 11,000 HA along the Nephin Mountain Range as Ireland’s first wilderness area. March 14, 2013
(Images released by Ken Wright Photography)

FAREWELL TO FATHER JAMES FOX, February 14, 1879

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Pasted in one of Hogan’s little scrapbooks, in the archives of the Diocese of Kansas City – St. Joseph, a yellowed newspaper clipping has Father Fox’s obituary.  He died February 14, 1879. Unfortunately, Hogan did not note the publication name.

Shared characteristics of the two Irish prelates come through in this accounting – fiscal responsibility and near-abhorrence of debt; dedication; plain spoken clarity of thought and word. Hogan and Fox were both frontier priests, ordained by Archbishop Kenrick, dedicated to the promise of America for the poor, the hopeful and the ambitious. They built churches, established schools and cleared debt

A brief biography was included in Father Fox’s obituary:

Obituary: The Rev. James Fox

Sketch of his life and labors – His last sickness – the funeral arrangements – services tomorrow.

The death of another well-known Catholic priest, in the person of Rev. James Fox of St. Patrick’s parish, which occurred yesterday, will occasion emotions of no ordinary depth among many persons who enjoyed no intimate acquaintance with the deceased, but had heard of his labors. The loss of him will be especially felt in the parish to which he had devoted the last years of his life, and for which he had done so much, and there will be abundant manifestations of the profound sorrow, which his decease has caused amongst his parishioners.

SKETCH OF HIS LIFE

Father Fox was born in the county of Wicklow, Ireland, in 1820, and his college days were spent at the Carlow institution, which is one of the highest in that country and to which no one who is not very proficient in his studies is admitted. He had as a fellow student Bishop Ryan, and both made great progress at the college. In 1849 he emigrated to the United States and on St. Peter and Paul’s day—the 29^th of June of that year—was ordained a priest by the Most Rev. Peter Richard Kenrick in this city. After his ordination he remained six month here in various capacities and was then transferred to Potosi, Washington County to take charge of the church there. He remained there one year and was next appointed successor of Father Cotter of Old Mines, in the same county.

At that time the country was in the condition of all newly opened territory, and the labors which devolved upon him were unusually arduous. His mission extended through Washington and into Jefferson, Iron, St. Francois and Crawford counties, he giving personal supervision to other churches than his own. He lived, or had his residence, at Old Mines eighteen years. It has been said that he lived on horseback, so large a portion of his time was he away from his home. He built the Old Mines, Irondale, Potosi and DeSoto churches, and was largely assisted in his work by Bishop Hogan of St. Joseph and Father Hays of this city, who had charge of the churches established by him. While at Old Mines, in 1868, he was appointed successor of Father Cavanaugh as pastor of Assumption church, St. Louis. He was eighteen or nineteen months at the Assumption and then in May,

… Father Wheeler, at Munich. While at the Assumption his zeal had found fitting employment in clearing off the debt of the church and in bringing the Sisters of St. Joseph from Carondelet to a convent in the parish. He was especially attached to children, and finding on his accession to the pastorate of St. Patrick’s that there were 2,500 or 3,000 of them in the parish without the opportunities for Catholic education, he at once actively interested himself in procuring the needed facilities and the result was the erection of St. Patrick’s school, which is considered the finest school in the city, public or private, and the finest parochial school in the United States. The school and ground cost upwards of $90,000. He looked upon it as his crowning effort, and sickness alone prevented him from witnessing the school in operation. His last words from the altar, the last time he officiated at the church, nearly six weeks ago, were that the school would be open for the children on the morrow. The morrow came, but it found him on a sick bed.

In connection with his labors at St. Patrick’s parish, it may be stated that he was successful in paying off a debt of $24,000, which there was on the church

CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DECEASED

Father Fox was not an orator, and in the pulpit he devoted less attention to doctrinal points than to practical every day advice. He was a plain but forcible speaker and what he said acquired additional force from the zeal with which he was filled and which made itself manifest in all that he did. He was a very earnest worker; years ago he was the embodiment of the pioneer spirit; disregarded fatigue, and bore up under circumstances which would have overwhelmed many stronger men. In St. Patrick's parish he gave his whole energies to his work, and went from door to door urging his parishioners to a more faithful performance of their duties. His charities were uncircumscribed.

His health had always been frail, and it was kept so by his forgetting himself in his work. Some six weeks ago he was attacked with typhoid pleurisy, and his system, as it were, collapsed. It is thought that there were some evidences of consumption, which had been induced by exposure in all kinds of weather. The best of medical advice was obtained for him, and two of the Alexian brothers waited constantly upon him during the past month. He died with perfect resignation shortly after six o'clock yesterday morning. His confessor was Father Tschieter, S.J., of St. Joseph's church and the blessed sacrament was administered by Father Hays.

Osage River and a chance encounter

Recently, I was settled in a dark corner of the State Historical Society of Missouri (Columbia, Missouri) focused intently on the screen of a microfilm reader, trying to decipher badly focused text of a yellowed 1933 newspaper, when a voice penetrated my fog – “Crystal Payton?” The voice belonged to Sean McLachlan, pelagic and prolific, self-designated “Midlist Writer” who actually resides in Madrid Spain. My mental jump from 1933 to 2010 took a couple of minutes, but the brain finally locked in. Pretty remarkable crossing of paths … Sean is in Columbia for a couple of weeks to research a new Missouri book – this one on Gen. Joe Shelby’s 1863 raid into Missouri from Arkansas; his other work in progress is on Ethiopia. His interests are global (travel) and local (he's got a new series on Missouri's own Jesse James) – and we meet on the playing field of Missouri regional history!

My date with microfilm was to advance our research into the background and politics of the building of Harry S. Truman Dam and Reservoir on the Osage River. Between the Great Mississippi River Flood of 1927 and the closing of Bagnell Dam on the Osage in 1931, the Corps of Engineers overcame their resistance to the concept of dam/reservoir projects for flood control. They were looking for dam sites in the early ‘30s and haven’t changed that mindset since. So the reels of “The Clinton Eye” a weekly paper in the county seat of Henry County we felt might hold early gems. Worth a look-see, anyway ….

FYI – the new book is The Osage River: paddlefish, prairies, farms & villages, dams & reservoirs, imperial Indians, explorers, slickers, sportsmen, tourists & various violent, litigious & noteworthy events in the history of the Osage River Valley. 

Right now we're looking at 300+ well laid out, color illustrated pages.

 (above) Leland looks over the Osage River valley from a bluff off Highway 17, east of Tuscumbia. The view is toward the abandoned Henley railroad bridge.

Catching up included sending Sean a copy of On the Mission in Missouri and Fifty Years Ago: A Memoir, which we published after Mystery of the Irish Wilderness. Father Hogan’s account of life on the rapidly settling Missouri frontier and through the Civil War in northern Missouri is a lively read by itself. His recollection of growing up in County Limerick, Ireland in the 1830s and ‘40s is a real snapshot of the times leading up to and the beginning of the Potato Famine. We couldn’t just leave them on the shelf … so this volume contains both memoirs and the biographical information I gleaned from diocesan archives.

HOGAN THE HORSEMAN: Equestrian adventures in his Irish childhood

As in childhood the world over, play can teach useful skills for later, grown-up lives. In John Hogan’s case, his roustabout schoolboy days found him learning to ride quadrupeds (in this account, donkeys in the field) in a rough field in County Limerick – a skill that proved invaluable later in life as he traversed often rough terrain in sparsely settled Missouri, north and south, on horseback. True to the Irish love of horses, Hogan remembers many of his mounts, their sturdy service and his care of them, feeding and rubbing them down after a long day’s journey.

From Fifty Years Ago: A Memoir -

Riding was one of our favorite sports in those days. We usually indulged in it on school holidays, or when the master was sick, which meant we were scott-free until he had got over the measles. Our riding-course comprised two large adjoining fields, called Barnhill and Feahmoor, which were traversed by lines of hillocks with sharp ascents and declivities and by steep earthen dikes or ramparts curtained by water. This was the topography of Feahmoor, where the riding exploits took place. The Barnhill was rather more rocky, and therefore more suggestive of cracked skulls and broken bones of inexpert young jockies. These fields, to the great delight of us youngsters, had a never-failing supply of lively, well-fed donkeys, young and old. Old donkeys were not boys' first choice, on account of their vicious habits, of biting their riders legs and rushing their riders against thorny hedges and stone walls. Young donkeys were more choice, as more inexperienced in warfare with bad boys, who usually wished to enjoy a ride without being put hors de combat.

To ride a fast young donkey and to hold on his back trotting and galloping and in spite of hoisting, kicking, and rearing, constituted a boy an undergraduate in assmanship. But the honor of a diploma was reserved for the final test, to be made with the rider's face towards the donkey's tail. At this tournament, it was against the rules, and was inconvenient besides, to use a bridle; but the rider might hold on to the wool as best he could. Success achieved under these circumstances was proclaimed by the whole field with vociferous rejoicing. Discomfiture, on the other hand, never failed to be followed by roars of side-splitting laughter, especially if the young knight-errant should happen to land heels up in a mud-puddle or in a ditch of water. Not every boy, after a defeat or two of that kind, would be willing to try it again; and boys with soiled jackets and pants and muddied shirt-tuckers were usually not gallant enough to face their mammas at home, for full well they knew what strong faith these mammas had in the virtue of the tough birch twig that was kept ready for use and that was well seasoned.

Schoolboy John Hogan played hooky with friends

Our new book, On the Mission in Missouri & Fifty Years Ago: A Memoir, contains both of Bishop Hogan's personal memoirs.

In Fifty Years Ago, this “engaging Irish storyteller,” recounts a lively and entertaining childhood in County Limerick, Ireland in the 1830s and ‘40s. He recalls every school he attended, his teachers, many of his childhood friends, quite a few adventures and occasional encounters with authority. In the following selection, young John, playing hooky from school, recounts how he and his comrades–in-truancy passed their stolen hours, before being unceremoniously caught and returned to face the music:

Ah, how much pleasanter it was to a gang of truant boys to be in hiding under bushes than to be too conveniently near the tip end of the master's cat-o’-nine-tails! The covert in which we hid was thickly set with tall pine trees, to which the furze was an undergrowth. There we climbed trees, looked for birds’ nests, ran races, played hide and seek, masqueraded grand Turk and Indian chief, our heads turbaned with pine plumes and rushes. Our biggest boy, the most stalwart fellow amongst us, we threw down on the ground on his face and hands, then we stretched him lengthwise across a steep water-drain, and on his long back enjoyed ourselves, chasing each other over and hither, as in the picture in our books we saw squirrels running on a log.

But our hey-day was soon to come to an end. We had been missed from school. Search was made for us. Ah, the mean scouts that betrayed us! Like snakes, they crawled on the grass and hid behind bushes until they spied us. Then they went and told the master. A posse comitatus of big boys from the school was sent to gather us in. We were surrounded, trapped, captured, and marched ignominiously into the master's presence. Without formalities, we were sentenced to die the death. I began to make a speech from the dock. Before a word was out of my mouth, I was grasped, as in a vise, by the rough hands of the biggest boy in school. That fellow’s back was the common gallows, on which truant boys paid the penalty for their misdeeds, and when the execution was over, it was considerable time before the felon that died the death showed himself anyway lively again