Of Soppers and Whiteboys

 

     This week I learned something new thanks to Uncle George Gunn, born in 1854 at Ballygologue in County Kerry; another brother of my great-great-grandmother Mary Gunn.  I’ve written several blogs about George, mainly because there’s just so much to say about this man.  He survived only two years after his arrival in New York, which is a real shame, I’m positive he’d have given me a lot more to write about had he lived longer.  George would have set Palmyra New York on its ear.  Unfortunately, to quote the old song, “With a love of the liquor poor Tim George was born”.  After imbibing one evening, he somehow missed his footing while strolling along the Erie Canal, plunging to his watery death--

 Palmyra August 1892--The body of George Gunn, a laborer about 30 years old, was found floating in the canal just west of this village on Sunday morning last, and was taken in charge by Drake & Johnson undertakers.  Gunn was in Palmyra late Saturday evening and the supposition is that he had been drinking and while on his way to Macedon by tow-path he fell into the canal and met his death by drowning.

     George’s rap-sheet in Ireland was impressive with numerous arrests for drunkenness, assaulting a caretaker, bad language, a few for assaulting police officers as they attempted to apprehend him, and a charge of Whiteboyism.  From a stint he did in Tralee Prison in 1888 for drunk and disorderly, we learn George was 5’9 ½”, with brown hair and grey eyes.  The number of times he was arrested previously was eight, but I’m betting there were plenty more cases he got away with.  George was definitely a character, one of those “wild Kerry peasants” I’ve heard tell of.  The arrest that really caught my attention, however, was the one in 1882 accusing him of being a whiteboy.   https://www.askaboutireland.ie/narrative-notes/whiteboys/ I do love a good rebel.

     The newspaper report of the incident read--

Early on Sunday morning a patrol of police discovered a body of men engaged at drill. They captured ten of the party who were brought into Tralee.  The men, who are of the lowest order in Listowel, were brought before the magistrates on Monday.  When arrested they had their faces blackened and wore false whiskers.  The prisoners are George Gunn, Richard Barry, James Kissane, Thomas Hayes, John Browne, Jeremiah O’Connor Denice Bunce…

     A few days later another article appeared in the local newspaper detailing their court appearance--

     The men's defense intrigued me. Their solicitor argued the accused had gone to a neighborhood wedding as, “soppers” which explained their appearance. That certainly required further explanation.  A google search brought up next to nothing, but then I remembered the Schools Collection, which as far as I’m concerned is a national treasure.  In the 1930’s schoolchildren from all over Ireland collected stories from grandparents and older neighbors, which they then recorded in composition form.  It’s amazing what can be found there.  There is no better site to get a feel for life in old Ireland.  I typed “soppers” into their search box and was not disappointed.  Up popped two full pages of results, many of them from County Kerry.  Most descriptions of soppers noted, “To entertain the party, they came with their faces colored or covered so they would not be known. They played and danced and sang”.  In other words, they were expected to be in disguise just as George and the others maintained.

     Resident Magistrate Captain Massey, (in the above article), who comes across as a real prig clearly wasn’t having any of that.  His smug speech stating it was fortunate the prisoners had no firearms about them, has a disingenuous ring to it.  In spite of no real evidence, he still required a £10 surety, (several hundred dollars in today’s money), or two months in prison.  It appears he would have loved to throw the book at Uncle George and his pals and was peeved he hadn't the grounds to do so.  I'm not crazy about his, "men who are of the lowest order", crack as reported in the newspaper either.

     Uncle George had no way of knowing that within thirty-nine years the likes of Captain Massey and his ilk would be gone from Ireland.  Gone from the Free State anyway, and good riddance.  It’s too bad George didn’t live long enough to see that marvelous day.  

 

Richard Gunn's Abject End

 

Killarney District Lunatic Asylum

     Since I've been having such good luck wrapping up loose ends in my Gunn family line, I thought I may as well give my great-great-grandmother's brother Richard Gunn another shot.  I only learned of Richard's existence when I found his 1857 baptism record.  It mangled his name, but the address of Ballygologue in County Kerry was correct, and his parent's names were right for the most part.

     I couldn't find Richard in the 1901 or 1911 censuses, nor in civil registration records.  His was not a common name, so I went for broke and did an all Ireland search of registrations, all events, all locations, and all years.  Amazingly, there were only five registrations under the name of Richard Gunn!  I don't know how that could be possible, but I tried the search several times and there are only five.*  Factoring in his age, there was only one death registration, but it occurred in Killarney, County Kerry in 1885.  I thought it unlikely to be him, he must have died in infancy in Ballygologue before registration was mandated, but I clicked on it anyway and was in for an unpleasant surprise.

Richard Gunn Ballygologue, death at Killarney District Lunatic Asylum, pulmonary phthsis one year

     Richard died of tuberculosis in an insane asylum? I was not expecting that one. This suggested all sorts of questions and called for more research.  It appeared possible he had been a patient for at least a year since the onset of his illness was known to the institution, but that's conjecture.  I wondered of course, how he ended up in that place and what his diagnosis was, but I understand those records, archived in the Kerry Library in Tralee, are sealed.

      I also wondered how hard it was to be admitted to an asylum in Ireland in the late 1800's, the answer seemed to be--not very. The list of causes below is from the Killarney asylum.

     During the period of Richard's stay, there were two forms in use for admissions, one for dangerous and criminal lunatics which required the signatures of two magistrates sitting together, and another called Form E. That form, shown below, required a declaration by friends or relatives, a certificate from a magistrate and clergyman or poor law guardian, along with a medical certificate.

     Another question was, what was the asylum like? Being locked away with mentally ill persons, some of them violent, so far from home would be unpleasant under any circumstances.  Ballydribbeen, where the asylum was located, was almost 40 miles from Richard's home.  In 1885 that would have meant visits from his friends and family were probably infrequent at best.  It surprised me there wasn't a closer option for treatment.  After doing a little reading about the Killarney asylum however, I learned that as a district asylum, it was responsible for the mental healthcare of the entire county.  Like most of the population, Richard had no resources for private care so the district asylum was his only option. But what of Richard's day-to-day living conditions?  One report referred to a chronic problem with wet walls, while another spoke of overcrowding, gloomy rooms, and inadequate ventilation. With those surroundings, it's hardly surprising respiratory illnesses and phthisis (TB), were frequent causes of death, or that they spread rapidly.  What a dreadful place for a suffering, twenty-five year old to spend his last days.

*  One of the five Listowel registrations was of the birth of a formerly unknown Richard Gunn in 1865; his father Francis Gunn could well be a brother of my Richard's father John Gunn, who named a son Francis.   

More About That Lost Son of Johanna Gunn

            My last blog ended with the amazing discovery of Johanna Gunn's firstborn, living in the same townland as his mother, after many years of my believing he likely hadn't survived childhood.  Naturally, after all that searching, I wanted to know more about this man's life.

     Edward Gunn was born December first in 1867 and baptized the fourth day of December in the parish of Listowel, County Kerry.  The church register of baptisms shows the parish priest wrote, mother Johanna Gunn of Ballygologue, godparents George and Mary Gunn.  No father's name was recorded there or on the registration of his birth as seen above.  And there it ended, Edward Gunn couldn't be found in the 1901 or 1911 censuses, nor did he appear in any other civil registrations after his birth.  I had nearly given him up, but while researching that blog about his mother Johanna, it suddenly became clear he had simply changed his surname to that of his father, Edward Burke Sr., and had never left Ballygologue.  Like his half brothers William and John Connor, Edward was a shoemaker; in 1898 he married Mary Denihan, setting up housekeeping in Ballygologue.  Their daughter Ellie was born there in 1899, followed by Daniel Joseph Burke in1902, then four more sons, and daughter Mary Ellen in 1910.

Edward, Mary and Ellie Burke 1901 with Mary's father, all spoke English and Irish

     In studying my Kerry ancestors, I was struck by how bleak and precarious their lives seemed.  Johanna's mother, Margaret Browne Gunn, gave birth to seven children with only three surviving her, Johanna and two others who immigrated.  Johanna had seven children but again, only three survived her, two of them in the states.  Edward Gunn Burke was also father to seven children, three of whom survived him, two in Ireland and one in the states.  Do you see a pattern here?  I know it was not unusual to lose a child, but my ancestors from southeast Ireland seemed to have much better luck with children.  The losses in this family seem staggering by today's standards.  I'm convinced the social and economic conditions in Kerry, one of the poorest counties in Ireland at the time, were a big factor in the death rates and why so many of my realtives left.  In the period after the famine, County Kerry had the highest immigration rate, followed by counties Cork and Clare.

    The only child of Edward's to try his luck in America was his oldest son Daniel.  While putting the pieces of Edward's life together I found an obituary for a Daniel Burke of Palmyra, New York, fifteen minutes from my current home.  That could have been any old Daniel Burke, it's hardly an uncommon name, and yet, this one was from Ireland, was of the right age, and had two brothers with the correct names still living there.  And he was in Palmyra.  Looking at the 1930 census of Palmyra, I found a Dannie Burke from Ireland living with Mary Mahoney from Ireland, (maiden name O'Connor I knew from previous research), and her husband. That had to be him! 

     The census had an immigration date which led me to the passenger list of Daniel's ship arriving 22 September1924 in New York.  Passenger lists from that time period contain a trove of information.  From that single document I learned Daniel was an agricultural laborer, stood 5 feet 3 inches tall, had black hair and gray eyes, and $30 in his pocket.  It showed his father's half-brother William O'Connor, already in America, had put up the money for his nephew's passage.  It further showed Daniel was on his way to the home of his great-aunt, Mary Gunn Power, my great-great-grandmother, in upstate New York, and he had left a father, Mr. Ned Burke, in Ballygologue.  

     It gives me such a rush to make the connection between Ireland and the place where I still live.  A feeling of closeness.  Daniel's destination, the Power home, was a mile from where I would grow up decades later, Palmyra was the next village over.  Daniel eventually landed a good job, married in 1935, and raised two children, Daniel Jr. and Rosemary.  He passed away in Rochester, New York in 1971.  

     Back in Ireland, Edward Gunn Burke lived out his days in Ballygologue, his wife passing in 1928, his mother Johanna in 1930, and himself in 1939 at age 71.  His death registration says he died from toxemia of burns in Listowel Hospital, but even after extensive newspaper searches, the scant information in the registration was all I could find.  By then he had lost his firstborn daughter Ellie to bronchitis in 1902 at the age of two, two young sons to whooping cough at ages two and four in 1907, his only remaining daughter, Mary Ellen at 18 from typhoid fever, along with his wife. His oldest son Daniel was far away, but Edward at least had his sons Mike and Edward Jr. with him until the end.

     

A Singular Sunday, in Which the Mystery of Johanna Gunn is Finally Solved and a Lost Child Found

      

    The damp, cold weather continues here in New York.  Add to that a newly spayed puppy and I find myself housebound.  Since little Suzie is pretty high on pain meds and sleeping, I saw an opportunity to spend the day doing genealogy.

     I've long been curious about Johanna Gunn, the sister of my great-great-grandmother Mary Gunn Power, both of Ballygologue in County Kerry, so I chose her as my subject.  It appears Johanna was the oldest in her family, born around 1850 to John and Margaret Browne Gunn.  Johanna's first child, Edward, was born out of wedlock in the spring of 1867 there in Ballygologue.  I never found another scintilla of information about him and assumed he had probably died young.  

     In 1871, Johanna married Thomas O'Connor and gave birth to five more sons and a daughter. Thomas died in the Listowel Work House in1889, but what of Johanna?  No death registration ever came to light for her in spite of many hours of searching.  She appeared in the 1901 census as a poverty stricken widow living in a two room, 3rd class abode with her mother, three of her children, and a nephew. After that she seemed to vanish.

     Today at the Civil Registration site I pored over every death entry that could conceivably be hers, using all manner of search terms with no luck.  Over and over I tried, growing very discouraged, but a feeling of dejavu was slowly creeping in.  I had run into this situation before with another great-great-grandmother.  I only found her when I chanced upon an obituary naming all her children, the lady had remarried well into her sixth decade and assumed a new surname.  Could Johanna have married again?  Back to the registrations, and indeed, there was a marriage!  In 1910, when she was about 60, Johanna had married John Granville of Ballygologue.  No wonder I never found her death registration.

Marriage of Johanna O'Connor, widow, Ballygologue, father John Gunn-- it all fits!

     Now that I had Johanna's new surname, not to mention her newly found entry in the 1911 census, finding her death date should be a breeze right? Nope. There were three possibilities, one of which I quickly discounted since that lady's husband was a shopkeeper, which from the 1911 census I knew John Granville was not.  That left two Johanna Granville's in Ballygologue, one born in 1849 who died in 1924, and one born in 1858 who died in 1930.  Unfortunately, neither seemed to fit. The registration with the birth year of 1849 seemed promising at first, but the informant was Michael Granville, son of the decedent.  Johanna didn't have a son named Michael. The birthdate on the remaining registration was way off, if Johanna was born in 1858, she would have been nine years old when Edward was born.  Also, the informant was Michael Burke, grandson.  Johanna didn't have a grandson named Michael Burke. Now what?

     I did a little research on the Granville's that's what.  Maybe Johanna's new husband John Granville had a son named Michael who would have been Johanna's stepson? That did not pan out, the marriage record seen above refers John as a bachelor, not a widower, and in the 1901 census he was single. No children for John.  I did find his father Thomas Granville's second marriage to Johanna Nolan.  They too lived in Ballygologue and they did have a son named Michael, probably the 1924 death registration was hers. She was younger than her husband Thomas and was in worse circumstances in 1901than my Johanna was, sharing a one room cabin with five other people.  

     It seemed 1930 must be the right year for my Johanna's death, but who was Michael Burke, grandson? To answer that question, I looked for the birth of a lad by that name in the civil registrations and found this--

Michael Burke, son of Edward Burke and Mary Deenihan, born Ballygologue, 1906

     That was possibly him, but who was Edward Burke?  Or Mary Deenihan?  I needed to see their marriage registration--

Marriage of Edward Burke in 1898

     

     Wait, what!  Could it be?  After all my years of searching?  Edward Burke born in 1872?  Living in Ballygologue?  Marriage witnessed by Johanna O'Connor?  Oh, my Lord!  It was Johanna's firstborn son Edward!  I was sure of it.  Now the "Michael Burke, grandson", on the 1930 death registration made sense.  Edward hadn't died young; he had grown up in Ballygologue with his mother.  Although his parents never married, and he was baptized Edward Gunn, at some point he had adopted his father's surname.  Right there in his marriage registration was his father, Edward Burke.

     I've always seen Johanna as a tragic figure who gave birth to seven children, only two of whom outlived her.  Those two, along with her surviving brothers and sister, were gone to America by 1902, never to return to Ireland.  She had eleven grandchildren living in the states she would never meet.  I used to believe Johanna was left without any close family nearby in her last decades.  Now however, I know she had a husband, her son Edward, and even grandchildren on her side of the Atlantic. Knowing all this makes me feel a small sense of relief for her.  In spite of  Johanna's many losses, she wasn't alone.