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I was 21 years old and working in Irish Shipping on Aston Quay a few yards from O’Connell Bridge.
I lived on the Hill of Howth, so I stayed in town to await the visitor, having a quick meal in the CIE
canteen in Sackville Place, (where some busmen were to be murdered by a British bomb some
years later which had the effect of making the Fine Gael leadership, then posing as liberals, to
drop their opposition to a Fianna Fail Bill to deal with “subversives.
I then watched through a shop window near the Pillar, JFK’s speech, live from Berlin where he
proclaimed himself a “Berliner” understood by the locals as a Doughnut.
A couple of hours later he arrived a few yards from me standing up in his Lincoln limousine wearing a beautiful light blue suit in the sunshine, and I was impressed that a man of his age (46 years and
almost 1 month! ), should have such colour in his hair. I was captivated by the man, although my
father, who had worked in New York (1927-28) had his doubts about him, and had a more critical
attitude towards the US. He had also worked during vacations from UCC in Fords of Cork and
noted the hard-nosed brutality of American managers.
Anyhow, along with many others I made for Bachelors Walk, running to have another look at my
idol, as it, having driven along Westmoreland St, by College Green and Dame St, and recrossed
the Liffey and was affronted by the sight of brawny American bodyguards, pushing my fellow
citizens away from their boss’s car.
I heard radio recordings of De Valera’s welcome in the language spoken without in our country
without a break for nearly two thousand years before the Pilgrim Fathers landed in Massachussets,
even before Old England, much less New England, existed.
Literature in Irish predates that of other European languages except Latin and Greek.And much of
it was written by monks well versed in those Classical Languages.
The next day JFK addressed the Oireachteas.
His first words were historically incorrect. The Battle of Fredericksburg was not fought in
September 1862 but in December of that year. It was one of the fiercest battles of America’s
Civil War.
He presented them with the flag carried by “Meagher’s Brigade” that day. Though it had bullet holes, it had replaced one torn to shrreds in a previous engagement.
Thomas Francis Meagher was an Old Boy of Clongowes. He wrote in condemnation of the West
British attitudes of the Jesuits there and their neglect of Ireland’s rich cultural traditions. As a civilised man he did not attack English language, literature or music, nor the cultures of the rest of mankind.
Kennedy’s speech, I realised at the time, might have provoked some of his Parliamentary audience to throw him out on his ear, for he quoted, supposedly in praise of small nations, David Lloyd George, who had imprisoned them, murdered their colleagues, and by the imposition of the Treaty of Versailles created the conflicts still raging then, and threatening, as I write, to wipe all life from this planet any day now. Lloyd George had spoken of Belgium as a nation whereas it is a state cobbled together by Britain to curb the power of France.
As long ago as the Treaty of Versailles, de Valera already the leader of Ireland’s democratically elected Government, voiced the fear that it would provoke more wars.
I was in the city called Brugge by its inhabitants but perversely called
Bruges by the Brits. I went there to avoid the Coronation of Charles III. There is no intercourse between the Flemings and the Francophone Walloons, although I believe they are of Catholic origin.
BRUGGE is an anagram of BUGGER. There are BUGGER ALL street signs in French in the city. And
trains, including those to Francophone Brussels have neither notices nor spoken messages in French.
Lloyd George was praising the “Belgians” when their treatment of the African in the Congo was little,
if anything better than that exposed by Casement a few years earlier.
And it was no better, when, a few days before JFK’s Presidential Inauguration, a Belgian murdered
the “liberated” Congo’s First President, Patrice Lumumba, destroyed his body and kept his gold dentures as souvenirs. Noam Chomsky’s comment on “Belgium’s” continued role in the Congo might interest some readers. I commend his observations on current and historical affairs to you all.
Anyhow I saw JFK a couple of days later as he was making his way to Arbour Hill on the graves of the 1916 leaders maligned as criminals by Seamus Murphy SJ in a Rhyme and Reason Centenary Edition of the IRISH TIMES.
He was wearing a beautifully cut dark pinstriped suit, a copy of which I had made for me by Kingston’s in O’Connell St, using the proceeds of summer camp with the FCA. Kingston’s belonged to the family of Cathal Brugha, hero of Easter Week 1916 and later. I saved the suit for Weddings, Funerals, Interviews and passed it on to my son, in pristine condition 30 years later.
I lived on the Hill of Howth, so I stayed in town to await the visitor, having a quick meal in the CIE
canteen in Sackville Place, (where some busmen were to be murdered by a British bomb some
years later which had the effect of making the Fine Gael leadership, then posing as liberals, to
drop their opposition to a Fianna Fail Bill to deal with “subversives.
I then watched through a shop window near the Pillar, JFK’s speech, live from Berlin where he
proclaimed himself a “Berliner” understood by the locals as a Doughnut.
A couple of hours later he arrived a few yards from me standing up in his Lincoln limousine wearing a beautiful light blue suit in the sunshine, and I was impressed that a man of his age (46 years and
almost 1 month! ), should have such colour in his hair. I was captivated by the man, although my
father, who had worked in New York (1927-28) had his doubts about him, and had a more critical
attitude towards the US. He had also worked during vacations from UCC in Fords of Cork and
noted the hard-nosed brutality of American managers.
Anyhow, along with many others I made for Bachelors Walk, running to have another look at my
idol, as it, having driven along Westmoreland St, by College Green and Dame St, and recrossed
the Liffey and was affronted by the sight of brawny American bodyguards, pushing my fellow
citizens away from their boss’s car.
I heard radio recordings of De Valera’s welcome in the language spoken without in our country
without a break for nearly two thousand years before the Pilgrim Fathers landed in Massachussets,
even before Old England, much less New England, existed.
Literature in Irish predates that of other European languages except Latin and Greek.And much of
it was written by monks well versed in those Classical Languages.
The next day JFK addressed the Oireachteas.
His first words were historically incorrect. The Battle of Fredericksburg was not fought in
September 1862 but in December of that year. It was one of the fiercest battles of America’s
Civil War.
He presented them with the flag carried by “Meagher’s Brigade” that day. Though it had bullet holes, it had replaced one torn to shrreds in a previous engagement.
Thomas Francis Meagher was an Old Boy of Clongowes. He wrote in condemnation of the West
British attitudes of the Jesuits there and their neglect of Ireland’s rich cultural traditions. As a civilised man he did not attack English language, literature or music, nor the cultures of the rest of mankind.
Kennedy’s speech, I realised at the time, might have provoked some of his Parliamentary audience to throw him out on his ear, for he quoted, supposedly in praise of small nations, David Lloyd George, who had imprisoned them, murdered their colleagues, and by the imposition of the Treaty of Versailles created the conflicts still raging then, and threatening, as I write, to wipe all life from this planet any day now. Lloyd George had spoken of Belgium as a nation whereas it is a state cobbled together by Britain to curb the power of France.
As long ago as the Treaty of Versailles, de Valera already the leader of Ireland’s democratically elected Government, voiced the fear that it would provoke more wars.
I was in the city called Brugge by its inhabitants but perversely called
Bruges by the Brits. I went there to avoid the Coronation of Charles III. There is no intercourse between the Flemings and the Francophone Walloons, although I believe they are of Catholic origin.
BRUGGE is an anagram of BUGGER. There are BUGGER ALL street signs in French in the city. And
trains, including those to Francophone Brussels have neither notices nor spoken messages in French.
Lloyd George was praising the “Belgians” when their treatment of the African in the Congo was little,
if anything better than that exposed by Casement a few years earlier.
And it was no better, when, a few days before JFK’s Presidential Inauguration, a Belgian murdered
the “liberated” Congo’s First President, Patrice Lumumba, destroyed his body and kept his gold dentures as souvenirs. Noam Chomsky’s comment on “Belgium’s” continued role in the Congo might interest some readers. I commend his observations on current and historical affairs to you all.
Anyhow I saw JFK a couple of days later as he was making his way to Arbour Hill on the graves of the 1916 leaders maligned as criminals by Seamus Murphy SJ in a Rhyme and Reason Centenary Edition of the IRISH TIMES.
He was wearing a beautifully cut dark pinstriped suit, a copy of which I had made for me by Kingston’s in O’Connell St, using the proceeds of summer camp with the FCA. Kingston’s belonged to the family of Cathal Brugha, hero of Easter Week 1916 and later. I saved the suit for Weddings, Funerals, Interviews and passed it on to my son, in pristine condition 30 years later.
Sorry for the TYPO in the Title.
JFK visited Dublin in 1963 not 963.
In 963 the greatest Kennedy, Brian Boru, was reputed to be 21 years old. His visit to Dublin in 1014
broke the power of the Vikings at the cost of his own life and many of the clan.
Anyhow, what’s a Millennium between friends?