Tags
Barrettstown House, Co. Kildare history, Dan Donnelly, Irish bare-fisted boxing, Irish boxers, Irish pugilist, Jack Hammersley, Kilcullen, Leprechaun, Morristown Lattin, Naas, Newbridge, St. Patricks Well Barrettstown, Strange tales from Ireland, the curragh, The Hideout, the pride of ireland
I had been away from Ireland for many years, and was living in Barcelona at the time.
One summer I decided to take my eleven year old daughter Laura to visit the Emerald Isle where I grew up.
We hired a car in Dublin and drove to County Kildare on a beautiful sunny day; along leafy country lanes by hedgerows where once the members of the Kildare Hunt jumped their horses in pursuit of sad foxes and joyful baying hounds.
The family cemetery is on the road to the house and I wanted to stop there in remembrance and so we could make a wish in St. Patrick’s Well. But I drove on because I wanted to show Laura the house where I grew up in first.
We stopped at the main entrance and the wrought-iron gates were closed and locked with a chain. The little gatehouse itself looked empty and rather sad. I pressed the bell on one of the gateposts several times, but no-one answered, and I said to Laura “There’s no-one there Sweetie, so let’s go to the cemetery.” and she replied “Well alright but I hope we see the Leprechaun.”
She said that because I had always told her stories about the little old man in the green jacket with gold buttons and a slanted green hat who had lived there for hundreds of years. The local people had seen him many times over the centuries.
The river Liffey runs along the boundary of the cemetery on one side. I used to fish for trout there when I was a boy; a sparkling rush of water with its pools and eddies, and I knew every inch of the banks and places where the silver-flashing fish would try to hide.
The Leprechaun was always at my side then – he liked fishing too.
One afternoon when I was fishing at the cemetery when I was fourteen years old the sky suddenly turned black and there was a tremendous storm; huge claps of thunder and lightning strikes like carpet-bombing from the wars in patches around the cemetery and across the river.
I was scared and began to shiver, so I ran for my life to get home to shelter along the gravel paths past the old graves. The gale-force wind and pouring rain made it even worse as I ran.
And then I realised there was someone running next to me like a shadow which could not be. It was a little figure who passed straight through the old oak trees and bushes as we tried to get away from the storm.
We ran side by side together, and we understood each other. There was no need to explain.
If you ever want to go there to fish you will have good company with the Leprechaun.
You will not see him but you will feel him next to you. Don’t say my name, he will already know. Just say the one who skipped and laughed with him; the boy whose tears once stained the golden buttons on his green velvet tunic – the one who cared.
**
But to the story I am trying to tell which is about Dan Donnelly’s arm.
The following day I took Laura to lunch at a favourite pub where I used to go when I was a teenager. and later in my early twenties when I worked as a trainee thoroughbred race-horse trainer on the Curragh. It is in the little country town of Kilcullen, not far from Naas and is named The Hideout.
The pub had been there many decades. When you entered it was another world; a series of little cosy rooms with roaring fireplaces and oak beamed low ceilings. On the walls were prints and paintings of local history; the Kildare Hunt and old photos of times gone by, and ancient handguns, swords and farming implements.
It was a convivial place where the locals laughed and sang and danced to Gaelic bands. A place where Tim Finnegan in his day would have gone for a jar or two I am sure.
And just beside the main fireplace there was a glass cabinet – and in that case there was a man’s whole arm.
It was the mummified right arm of the famous 19th century Irish bare-fisted boxer, Dan Donnelly.
I had wanted for years to go back to The Hideout to see it again. It fascinated and horrified me at the same time. I mean where on else in the world would people keep someone’s arm in a case for all to see? Which of course adds to my argument that the Irish are completely mad.
So I took Laura there to see the arm but when we arrived and went inside everything had changed. Thirty years or more had passed for me by then.
The pub had been all opened up and made into big rooms; no more cosy corners and the fireplaces were no longer there. Plastic columns now supported the once low beamed ceilings.
For so many years at lunchtime and at nights it had been filled with locals and laughter and music, now there was no-one there.
But worst of all, Dan’s arm was gone . . .
In shock I asked the barman what on earth had happened to the arm and he replied “The place was sold and then an American found out about it and bought it from the Byrne family I think. He took it to Chicago.” [Note by Ed. How the blazes do you take a man’s arm through Customs?]
Before I explain what happened to his arm let me fill you in on the background. It is a story from my past, but has been written about since many times.
I quote from an article published on February 17, 2011 in the Irish Echo (author unknown but to their credit).
**
“Born in Dublin in 1788, Donnelly’s prize-fighting career began when he came to the aid of an old man being abused by a bully in the local pub. Soon crowned Irish champion, he assumed mythical status when he challenged and knocked out English champion George Cooper in 11 rounds at a natural amphitheatre on the outskirts of Kilcullen on Dec. 13, 1815.
To this day, visitors retrace the scooped-out steps that he took up the hill to face Cooper at what is now known as Donnelly’s Hollow.
A second victory over another English opponent, Tom Oliver, further burnished his reputation.
Unfortunately, Donnelly would fall ill and die on Feb. 18, 1820, leaving behind a grief-stricken nation. The grief would turn to outrage days later when grave robbers dug up his body.
According to Houlihan, grave robbing was a particularly popular crime amongst Dublin’s criminal element and performed by “Sackmen.”
“At that time it was illegal to work on any cadaver except those of executed criminals. The demand of medical colleges, physicians, and scientists quite simply far exceeded the supply. Stolen bodies brought a good price in the black market,” said Houlihan.
Donnelly’s corpse was traced to the home of a Dublin surgeon named Hall who, after a heated discussion agreed to return the body on one condition: that he keep the right arm that had felled the English champions as a macabre trophy.
Houlihan said after it was dipped in red lead to preserve it, the arm made its way to a medical college in Edinburgh, Scotland, before appearing in a traveling circus in Ireland in the early 20th century.
“It was from this circus owner that Hugh “Texas” McAlevey purchased Dan Donnelly’s arm. Upon Hugh’s death, the arm was procured by Tom Donnelly and then given to Des Byrne’s father to place in the Hideout Pub in Kilcullen.” he said.
**
The Irish people want Dan’s arm back again where it belongs; with him.
It is not just us; it is Dan himself because it is his limb, the one he fought with and the one he was so proud of. We want it to be buried with the rest of him at Kilmainham Cemetery where he was laid to rest in Dublin so he can come together once again.
**
Dan Donnelly died penniless at the early age of 32. His funeral cortege was enormous, thousands of his grief-stricken admirers lined the route, and carriages and carts loaded with flowers forlornly followed the hearse. His boxing gloves were carried on a silken cushion and he was laid to rest in Bully’s Acre. Kilmainham, Dublin
It is not right to steal a man’s arm in the first place and then spirit it away to foreign lands where it does not belong. It is ok to borrow it for a while as some did; but never to take it for all time.
Just like the request from Greece to get their Elgin Marbles back, we want Dan’s arm back too. His arm was taken away from him against his will; exhibited in a Circus, and then taken to be shown again as an exhibit in places in America.
No-one knows for sure where Dan’s arm is now, but whoever has it should give it back to him.
He will never rest in peace until then. It is a matter of humanitarianism and of Irish national pride. I hope you will agree.
I rest my case (for now).
Postscript – you have to read this! Click here
**
Note of by the author dated 10th June, 2014
Please visit this link to an interesting article regarding Dan and his famous arm written by Fergus Byrne (one of the family who owned The Hideout) in October, 2006.
And other more recent news (to be confirmed) is that the arm is back in the Republic of Ireland, but is still resisting worthy attempts by fans to find its exact location!
Says Breda Reid, an old friend and fellow journalist who lives in Co. Kildare “It does seem that it is back in the Emerald Isle and has been on show in different exhibitions around the country. The 200th anniversary of the fight on the Curragh is in 2015 and I have heard that a Curragh based boxing club is organising a memorial fight then.”
END
If you enjoyed this story PLEASE sign the petition here to get Dan’s arm back! No-one knows for sure where his arm is now, but whoever has it should give it back to him.
He will never rest in peace until then. It is a matter of humanitarianism and of Irish national pride. I hope you will agree.
So fascinating, love reading different tales about our wee home. How the people are proud and will fight for it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Spooky Irish Stories & Things that go Bump in the night | Jack Hammersley
This might bring you up to date. Brian Byrne.
http://kilcullenbridge.blogspot.ie/search/label/Dan%20Donnelly
LikeLike
Brian, thank you very much for the update. I had heard that Dan’s arm was at the Croke Park exhibition but I am curious to know where it is now?
Best regards, JH
LikeLike
Hi Jack, I found this yesterday which was in the Irish Independent in 2012. Hope it helps.
http://www.independent.ie/irish-news/grisly-tale-of-the-boxers-arm-that-left-local-pub-and-went-walkabout-26412437.html
I was brought to see his arm and footprints when i was a child so yesterday i brought my own children to see the footsteps and then off to the Hideout pub in Kilcullen to see his arm. The barman told me that it is now with the family of the previous pub owners. I’m afraid thats all he knew. So I left there with 2 very disappointed children. We then went investigating the web and this is how I found your page.
Good Luck
martina
LikeLike
Hi Martina, many thanks for your post about Dan’s arm. It is a wonderful story (though sad for him). Yes, I agree with you, I think the family still have it and won’t admit it. And I also think that they should give it back to him, which is the right thing to do. I hope your children were thrilled with the chase as so many of us have been over the years!
Best wishes to you and yours, Jack
LikeLike
Dear all, I originally wrote this story a year ago so it is probably out-of-date by now!
Does anyone have any news on the whereabouts of Dan’s arm?
Thanks, Jack
LikeLike
I don’t know how I haven’t read this before…Dan Donnellys Arm is brilliant.. even more so if you attempt to read it with a soft Irish accent, Brilliantly told Tim, the more I read it the more I smile very pleased Dan got his arm back
LikeLike
Sue, I’m working on it! He hasn’t quite got his arm back yet but I am sure he will soon.
You know his arm means so much to us. In fact I think there are thousands of people now around the world who are on the case. The story is about the fact that we admire Dan Donnelly – he fought with great courage and we can’t let him down now.
Where is his arm now? I don’t know. I wish I did and could try to get it back for him.
The truth is Sue; at the end of the day it is a mataphor for Ireland.
LikeLike
DeeDee and James, at the cemetary at Barrettstown that St.Patrick founded there are many tales passed down.
There was a time when guns were distributed to the rebels. When someone local died they would gather for the funeral from miles around, and just before the body was interned they would open up the lid of the coffin and give them out to the women who hid them under their skirts.
One of my own got hung off a nearby bridge then. It was named ‘Victoria Bridge’ then but someone scraped that off. There is a horse and cart that passes by the cemetary if you go there and you stay very quiet. That is him.
***
And if you ever want to go there to fish you will have good company with the Leprechaun. You will not see him but you will feel him next to you. Don’t say my name, he will already know. Just say the boy who skipped and laughed with him.
The boy whose tears once stained the golden buttons on his green velvet tunic. The one who cared.
***
_____________________________________________________
LikeLike
Reblogged this on United Irish Ex-Services Association Australia and commented:
Mad Irish stories – hope you enjoy them! Tim – QS & Faugh A Ballagh
LikeLike
That’s incredible….I absolutely love it! I can only imagine the worry over this….at 15 years old!
It sounds perfectly normal to me that you would pack up 17 swords, guns, fishing rods, a Bengal tiger skin, etc. to a safe haven. After all, these were your prized possessions and you couldn’t take a chance on losing them. 🙂
This is an apt description of something the fellows in my family would do. No wonder I feel such a sense of familiarity with your musings.
And the visitor from a “Special Branch”, oh the intrigue….but I understand the seriousness of this, as it could have been a frightful visit considering the times.
Oh, regarding Donnelly’s arm, I wonder if it’s in a private home someplace and that’s why there seems to be a dead end in its search. It would be nice if it were known, and be thoughtfully put to rest.
Thank you for sharing this incredible and colorful account….I am enthralled by your writing and look forward to reading more soon!
LikeLike
Hello Tim,
Once again, I sat here enjoying your fabulous tales. In fact, I was so intrigued by Donnelly’s arm, that I looked it up online and saw images of it! I’m sure it’s the same arm….how many disembodied, mummified arms can there be?
You hit the nail on the head when you said it was both fascinating and horrifying, but I was more fascinated by it and sat here marveling. (must be the mad Irish in me)
There was an article that said Dan Donnelly’s arm was on display at the Fighting Irishmen exhibition in Dublin 3 years ago. Evidently, it was returned to Ireland in 2009 and made it’s homecoming in 2010 at the Gaelic Athletic Association Museum.
I wonder where it is now?
I think it’s sad that the Hideout was transformed into a modern day plasticine joint….nothing can replace the ambiance or the quirkiness of an ancient pub that holds the sounds and smells of the centuries. The echos of the patrons laughter and merriment is in the woodwork. What a shame to lose this.
Oh well, at least the Leprechaun’s are still around. This I believe.
Thanks for sharing another one of your delightful stories with us, I loved this!
LikeLike
Thank you DeeDee!
It is a great pleasure to get feedback on my mad stories! The story about Dan’s arm is absolutely true, and still a great mystery today. I did try to track his arm down (out of respect) but ended up in a dead end too. I have many friends from when I grew up near to Kilcullen who are also following the story (and many others from the Irish Army because they often went there for a jar or two from the barracks at the Curragh). Many of us grew up in a sense at The Hideout. It was such a wonderful old pub, and frequented by some of Ireland’s greatest characters over many decades.
My step-father used to go there often for a drink (or ten). One night he had had so much to drink that he ran over one of the petrol pumps in the garage just down the road where he had parked his car. Two men in suits he had been drinking with came to his rescue and drove him home. You see in those days when you went for a drink at the Hideout it was great fun. Everyone sang and told jokes and roared with laughter!
My step-father John decided that the two men were ‘Special Branch’ which may have been true, as in those times we were in the very midst of the troubles. In any case he gave them whiskey and showed them around our home around one o’clock in the morning. They expressed interest in a hunting saddle from the early 18th century and John gave it to them and they left.
And not long after that he sold our home because he had decided to buy a yacht and sail around the world. I got wind of this before he did the deal and he and my mother were away in France somewhere. I was at boarding school in Dublin then and a very worried 15 year old boy. The house was empty then so I got a friend to come with me one weekend in his van and I cleaned out all the things I loved and took them away. My fishing rods, my guns, 17 swords, a few paintings, my Bengal tiger skin, the bear skin from my bedroom floor and a few bits of silver. John never even realised as far as I know; and if he did I didn’t care.
They bought their yacht named ‘Voyageur’ and sailed the Mediterranean for many years. I stayed In Ireland on my own. I was just sixteen.
LikeLike
This is very nice to read, it fascinates me greatly, because I see someone, who spent his childhood and his life in the army in Ireland,,and have put down in a book, and although his life is in australia , he always a proud Irish army man in heart and soul ,and will continue and transmits to his children, Tim Respect .grtz Anneke.
LikeLike
Thank you Anneke! It is a pleasure to get positive feedback on my mad stories! I am still working on the Irish story about the eye-are-ay. It is a very complex plot and I feel I am sitting on a wall and don’t know which way to fall. In the end I think I will just write honestly. Publish and be damned I think!
Tim xx
LikeLike
Tim,What your heart tells ,you write ,in honor and conscience,s6 xx
LikeLike
This brought me back to my days in the Curragh again. The ‘Hideout’ in Kilcullen was a favourite spot for many a soldier of my era, and Dan’s arm was still there in those days and a very long arm it is too. I agree with Tim, the arm must come back to where it properly belongs. Thanks for another great story Tim.
LikeLike
Thanks you James. We have to get Dan’s arm back now. It is a matter of pride for us all; you know I believe he used to have a drink or two in The Hideout when it was such a great place to go for a jar and a laugh, and haven’t we all! But it has changed now and gone forever from what it once was.
How stupid of the new owners to change our old welcoming watering-hole to a place of plastic bar-tops and cold white walls where no-one is remembered at all; and no-one now wants to go.
We will get the troops together and we will fight his last battle for him. And when we do my friend we will all go to Kalmainham and bury his arm with him. We will then all rest in peace.
LikeLike