Irish Seisiún Newsletter
This Week’s Session 2
Tom,
Pictured is one of our youngest session players, Ronan Murphy, with the 2nd place ribbon he got in the junior fiddle division at the Florida Old Time Music Championships two weeks ago in White Springs, Florida, as his proud dad, Seamus Murphy, looks on. He’ll be leading our session in a few years. Word is that his Grandpa, Bob Murphy, got him a brand new fiddle. Congratulations Rona
Video of Ronan getting ready to play – click here
Click any image to enlarge
North American 2026 Comhaltas
Music & Dance Immersion Weekend
More from Last Week’s Convention
American Comhaltas Music & Dance
Immersion Weekend 2026
Pat Lyons, his stalwart wife, Nancy, Tom Guldner, and I flew to Chicago for one of the larger Irish events in North America, and while we were only there from Friday afternoon till Sunday morning, it contained as much music and craic as one could take in.
We arrived Friday afternoon at O’Hare Airport and were met by our “ambassador of Chicago”, Francie Campbell, who generously shuttled us to and from the Hilton hotel, where the convention was held. On arrival, we quickly settled our room arrangements and headed downstairs to commence enjoying the long sessions that took place all weekend.
Most of the sessions occurred in the front or back lobby and were uproarious affairs. With never-ending new and different tunes, interspersed with old reliable standards, these would bring all players, newbies (such as myself), and the most experienced masters to blow the roof off. There is something about 20 to 40 Irish musicians creating a massive sound in unison that is otherworldly and unique. Often, the sessions were led by Mary Molloy and Siobhan O’Donighue, from Ireland. Super musicians both, and possessing an amazing dynamic repertoire. They kept things fresh and lively for hours upon hours.
Other great players often joining in were Vince Jordan, (Trustee-General of Comholtas from Birmingham, Trip to Birmingham!), Noreen O’Donighue, Maire Ni Ghing, her sister, Attracta Ni Bhradaigh, (President, worldwide Comholtas), local celebrity Francie Campbell, Boston’s Martin Cloonan, and our own Pat Lyons.
In the bar and in various nooks, smaller groups were in session, often warming up for or relaxing after the many Ceilis, workshops, or performances. These were mostly intimate performance grade gatherings and best enjoyed just listening while imbibing a pint or a bite to eat.
I attended both fiddle workshops and found them very informative and a nice way to get acquainted with the teachers and other fiddlers at the convention. In the afternoon fiddle workshop, as Katie Grennan was starting to teach a tune written by Liz Carroll, the composer herself strolled in, causing Katie to comment, “Well, the pressure is on now!”
After the laughter subsided, Liz and Katie played the tune together, which was a delightful surprise.
The dancers made up the bulk of attendees, and after the workshops in the morning, the main dance hall was roaring in the afternoons and especially at night. At least 100+ participants were hopping, swinging, sashaying, and clapping up a storm to fabulous Ceili bands most of the evenings. This year they had a late-night Ceili in a smaller hall that started at Midnight and went till 2 am! We walked by one night about 1 am, and the energy and heat was pouring out the doors.
Our own Francie Campbell was holding court wherever he happened to be. The perfect host, he made sure we were taken care of and, as mentioned, came when called promptly when we needed a ride. You could not walk two steps in any direction in his company before another acquaintance stopped to say hello. Francie, Pat Lyons, and others like them are the bridge between the very early immigrant players from the early 1900s and this generation’s batch of Irish music enthusiasts and are a valuable resource connected to the tradition.
The stories and craic, as well as the tunes, are a rare and unique commodity, and Francie fits that bill to a T. We are thankful for his friendship.
On Sunday, after a wonderful Mass, complete with a piper, full band, and beautiful chorus group, we packed up and dragged our tired but happy selves home, catching a couple more Francie stories to laugh about on our way to the airport. Next year, Toronto!
Bob Murphy
The great photo below was sent in by our good friend and fellow session player, Maureen from Ontario.
Click any image below to enlarge
Special treat
The Green Mountain, Bonnie Kate & The Musical Priest
Click below to listen and click the speaker for sound after the video starts
Finnegan's Calender
Find out what’s happening at Tim Finnegan’s this month.
.
Click here to view calendar
Click either event below to view
Finnegan’s supports us…Let’s support them!
Click either link to visit the site
.
“That’s How I Spell Ireland”
Saturdays at 7 to 8 PM EST.
You can listen on 88.7FM or WRHU.org.
For a request please text me on 917 699-4768.Kevin and Joan Westley
Note: Show will be preempted whenever the NY Islanders have a Saturday game
Old Ireland
Ireland’s Past in Motion
This is a profound and moving tribute to a generation of women who were truly the backbone of Irish society.
This scene of women carrying turf in Dooagh on Achill Is in County Mayo in 1903 isn’t just a historical snapshot; it is a testament to a level of endurance and “power” that is difficult for us to fully grasp today.
Their strength wasn’t just in the physical ability to carry heavy creels (baskets) of peat on their backs; it was the spiritual and emotional fortitude required to sustain life on the edge of the Atlantic.
The True Weight They Carried
The “power” you describe manifested in several ways that defined the era/
The Labor of Survival
In villages like Dooagh, the men often had to leave for seasonal work (becoming “tatie hokers” in Scotland or England) to earn cash for rent. This left the women to manage everything: the smallholding, the livestock, the cutting and drying of turf, and the constant battle against a harsh climate.
The Weight of Grief
To lose a child to “the fever” or hunger, and then to have to keep working the very next hour because the rest of the family depended on it, requires a terrifying kind of strength.
The Living Death of Emigration:
We often focus on those who left, but the power of the women who stayed behind—watching their children board ships knowing they would likely never see them again—is a silent, enduring heartbreak.
The “Meitheal” Spirit
These women didn’t just survive individually; they survived through communal strength, supporting neighbors through births, deaths, and harvests.
A Legacy in Our DNA
We absolutely owe our existence to them.
This generation of women lived through the “long 19th century,” bridging the gap between the Great Famine and the birth of a new state.
Their resilience is literally woven into the DNA of the modern Irish diaspora and those at home.
When we look at those old black-and-white photographs of women in heavy woollen shawls and red petticoats, we aren’t just looking at “peasants”—we are looking at the architects of our survival.
Click below to watch and click the speaker for sound after the video starts
Recent Mail
Travel in Ireland
 |
|
FAVOURITE PLACES IN IRELAND One of the final stops on the Wild Atlantic Way: the windswept beauty of Malin Head in County Donegal! As Ireland’s northernmost point on the Inishowen peninsula, this dramatic headland has witnessed centuries of maritime history. You can see all the way to Scotland from its rugged coastline, while the iconic “EIRE” sign carved into the clifftop once guided Allied aircraft during wartime. You can learn more about it here, or listen to this cover of The Hills of Donegal by Ailish McBride. |
Irish Language
Tír gan Teanga, Tír gan Anam:
A land without a language is a land without a soul.
Submitted by our own
Anita
As a result, Hozier gives Gaeilge an international spotlight, both increasing its relevance and bridging the gap between current and older generations by stimulating engagement and the understanding of Irish history through music.
Free Irish Classes
The classes are over zoom and are held at 12:00 eastern time the 1 st Sunday of every month.
It is basic conversational Irish and open to learners of all ages, especially beginners.
All are invited.
Hope to see you there!
slan go foill. Le dea ghui,
Anita
click here to register
Travel Quiz
Can you identify this site
and its location in Ireland
Send your guess to Tommy Mac at [email protected]
Answer in Next Week’s Newsletter
Last week’s answer
Loop Head -IrishCeann Léime, meaning leap head—
is a headland on the north side of the mouth of the River Shannon, in County Clare in the west of Ireland.
This week’s Irish Recipe
Irish Potato Bread
Made like in the old days
Poem of the week
Abandoned cottage in County Kerry
By ~ Theodosia Garrison
Stories and Tales
Humor as Survival: Why the Irish Laugh When Life Is Hard
There’s a certain kind of laughter you hear in Irish families when things aren’t going well. It’s not belly-laughing funny. It’s not pretending everything’s grand.
It’s more like a half-smile, a dry remark, a comment that lands just lightly enough to let everyone breathe again when times are tough.
And if you didn’t grow up with it, you might wonder how anyone could laugh at these times, when life is heavy, when hearts are sore, when nothing feels settled.
But for the Irish, humor has never been about avoiding pain. It’s been about surviving it.
This little piece isn’t about side-splitting jokes or the kind of stories comedians tell on a stage. It’s about the quieter turn of phrase, the small, well-timed remark that softens a hard moment. So if you’ve come looking for punchlines, this may not be the post for you.
But, if you wish to explore the subtle, everyday Irish wit that makes difficult moments a little easier to carry, then please do read on.
Laughing When Tears Would Be Easier
Irish humor doesn’t show up before hardship. It shows up after life has already made its point.
There’s an unspoken understanding that crying and laughing aren’t opposites. They often arrive together, or one slips in right behind the other.
It’s not denial. It’s acknowledgment, with just enough lightness to make the sorrow and grief manageable.
A quiet way of saying: Yes, this is hard. And no, it won’t be the end of us.
A Small Moment That Says It All
I remember being at a family gathering where the conversation turned serious, as it often does. Someone was sick. Someone else was struggling. The room grew quiet, that familiar Irish hush settling in, cups paused halfway to lips.
After a long silence, someone finally said, “Well… it could be worse.”
Another voice came back without missing a beat: “Ah yes. But give it time.”
The pause that followed was almost ceremonial.
Then the laugh came, soft, surprised, a little guilty, but relieving all the same. Not because anything was suddenly funny, but because everyone recognised the truth in it.
Nothing was fixed. The problems were still sitting right there at the table with us. But the air had shifted. Shoulders dropped. People breathed again.
That’s Irish humor. It doesn’t solve. It steadies.
The Little Moments You Start to Notice
Once you start paying attention, you hear it everywhere. After a stretch of miserable weather, when it rains for days, and dampness seeps into everything, you might hear someone say: “It’s fierce damp.”
“Well, sure it keeps us soft,” will come that quiet and steady reply.
No fuss. No real complaint. Just a small turning of the moment so it doesn’t drag everyone down with it.
Or someone going through a rough time, nothing dramatic, just life piling on. “How are you keeping?” someone asks.
“Oh, you know yourself,” comes the answer, with a sarcastic twist. “Living the dream.”
And from across the room, you might hear: “Ah yes… but whose dream is the question.”
There’s a quiet laugh. No one pretending things are grand. Just a shared understanding without making a show of it.
Coping with Illness and Life’s Challenges
Then there are the moments around illness, when things could easily tip into fear.
“How are you doing now?” someone asks.
“Still here.”
“Well that’s a good start.”
It’s not a joke, but a response with the perfect hint of wit. It’s just enough. Enough to take the edge off what nobody quite wants to say out loud.
And then the everyday mishaps happen, and a little humor creeps into our Irish coping mechanisms.
A cup slips. Tea everywhere. A pause. A look at the mess.
“Well… that’s one way of cleaning the floor.”
And on you go.
Humor That Heals, Not Wounds
Irish wit has a way of being sharp, without being cruel.
It turns inward more than outward. There’s a natural reluctance to make someone the butt of a joke, especially if they’re already carrying something heavy.
The aim isn’t to get a big reaction. It’s to ease the moment. To leave everyone with their dignity intact. It let’s others know, we’re all in this life together.
Laughing With Sorrow, Not At It
You see this phenomenon most clearly at Irish wakes. There’s grief, of course. Deep grief. But there’s also storytelling, remembering, the kind of laughter that arrives gently and sits alongside the sadness without disturbing it.
Because sorrow doesn’t need silence to be respected. Sometimes it just needs company. And humor, in its quiet way, keeps sorrow from feeling too lonely.
Irish Wit as Emotional Intelligence
At its core, this kind of humor is a form of emotional intelligence. It reads the room. It knows when enough has been said. It senses when a small remark might lift things, even slightly.
Now, from the outside, especially through a more American lens, the Irish can sometimes be seen as reserved, even emotionally shut down. We’re not given to big displays of affection, and avoid saying exactly what we feel out loud.
But that can be a misunderstanding. Because the feeling is there. It’s just expressed differently.
It comes through in the timing of a comment; in what’s said, and what’s carefully left unsaid; in the way a bit of humor is used to sustain and strengthen a moment, rather than avoid it.
Those small, well-placed remarks aren’t a lack of emotion. They’re a sign of how closely people are paying attention to each other.
It lets people feel what they feel, without letting it overwhelm everything. It’s not about being funny for the sake of it. It’s about knowing how to truly be with others when things are hard.
Why It Still Matters
These days, there can be a rush to fix things, to put a positive spin on everything, or to avoid difficult feelings altogether. Irish humor takes a different approach.
It leaves things as they are, but makes them easier to carry. It doesn’t pretend life is simple. It just refuses to let it become unbearable.
And maybe that’s why Irish humor still rings true. Because it doesn’t try too hard. Because it doesn’t deny reality. Because it meets life where it is, and softens it, just a little.
Let’s Chat About Irish Humor
I’d love to hear your own examples of this kind of humor. The small remarks. The unexpected laughs. The moments where nothing changed, and yet everything felt a bit lighter.
If you have one, do share it in the comments. There’s a comfort in these stories, I think. And like most things in Irish life, they’re better when they’re shared. 💚
Slán agus beannacht,
(Goodbye and blessings)
Mairéad –Irish American Mom
Pronunciation – slawn ah-gus ban-ock-th
Mairéad – rhymes with parade
Click below to watch, and click the speaker after the video starts
Gráinne Ní Mháille and the two laws that shaped an Irish legend
Part One and Two of a five-part series….More next week
A new series explores the world that shaped Gráinne Ní Mháille and the forces that forged her rise along Ireland’s western coast.
In the first installment of this five-part series, writer, producer and actor Keelin McCool, currently in development with the period drama feature “Mama Pirate”, traces the world that forged Gráinne Ní Mháille into one of Ireland’s most formidable figures. From the shifting waters of Clew Bay to the clash between Gaelic independence and English rule, her story reveals how a woman became powerful enough to challenge a crown built to overlook her.
In the 16th century, an era when women held little formal power over land, law, or political life, Gráinne Ní Mháille commanded a fleet of ships along the jagged western coast of Ireland. She navigated the treacherous maze of Clew Bay without charts or modern instruments, guided only by the tide and her experience.
Had she been a man, her story would have been on every screen and bookshelf long ago. However, the history books weren’t written for people like her. The world she came from was shaped by a fierce maritime independence – a spirit not unfamiliar in Ireland, and one I recognized in my own family’s involvement in the fight for independence in the early 1900s. It became the foundation I returned to while developing “Mama Pirate”, the feature based on her life.
Clew Bay, in County Mayo, is dotted with a collection of small islands and channels, whose depth is twice a day, every day, due to the Atlantic tide. To those unfamiliar with the deep-water runs, it can trap and disorient. From these waters, the O’Malley family did more than survive. Her father, Eoghan, operated routes along which he transported wine, iron, animal hides, and more between Ireland, Scotland, France, and Spain.
The clan levied “sea-tolls” on any vessel passing through their territory, their swift galleys maneuvering with ease as they relieved trespassers of their cargo. Control of passage meant control of the profit – a system Gráinne mastered as a child, long before it was contested by the English Crown.
Power in Ireland in the 1500s still resided with the Gaelic clans. Under the ancient Brehon laws, land was held by the community, not by any one individual. A sophisticated legal system settled disputes through negotiation and restitution, maintaining social balance. Through the system of tanistry, a successor was elected from within the ruling family based on their ability to lead and protect the clan, rather than simply by birthright.
A woman’s legal standing in Ireland at this time would never have existed in Tudor England. They could initiate divorce, keep their dowries, and sign contracts under their own names. They could keep their own property, even in marriage. Authority was worked out together in fields and tower houses, not administered by a bureaucratic machine across the sea.
In England, property was administered differently: through primogeniture, whereby estates were inherited by law by the eldest male heir, which kept them intact and powerful. A widow’s claim could be limited to a “dower third,” which could be a fraction of the estate, and which she would lose altogether, in most cases, if she remarried. Her status in life depended solely on terms set by the males in the family, which often left her and her children destitute.
As the Tudor state increased its presence in Ireland, these two incompatible systems collided. Under Henry VIII’s policy of “surrender and regrant,” Gaelic chieftains were pushed to cede their ancestral lands to the Crown, then receive them back under English titles, such as “Earl” or “Baron”. While it seemed on the surface to assert their authority, it was in fact a legal Trojan Horse; it stripped communal clan rights and turned the land into property granted by the King–revocable and legally bound to a state office in London.
In practice, the shift was an agonizing creep of theft and accounting. Land that had been defined by song and language for centuries was now being measured and recorded by surveyors. Property lines were drawn where there had never been any. Boundaries broke up grazing pastures that had always been shared. A terrain that had reflected memory and kinship was now a series of entries in a ledger, enforced by the Lord Deputy’s soldiers.
By the late 1500s, this process fell into the hands of the “New English”: private enterprise, military officials, and “joint-stock” syndicates seeking to plunder and profit. These opportunists, or “adventurers,” regarded Ireland as a resource to be harvested for timber, cattle, and land. Figures like the pugnacious Sir Richard Bingham, the Governor of Connacht, represented and enforced this new power, replacing Henry’s earlier strategy of persuasion with a colonizing engine that prioritized profit.
This shift was accompanied by increasing violence as authority moved across the sea. The justifications manufactured in the 1500s – that the Irish were “turbulent” or “uncivilized” for not following English law – formed the long-term basis for subjugation. The logic proved very durable: two centuries later, Charles Edward Trevelyan, the official overseeing famine relief, could still rely on these long-held prejudices. He described the Irish as having a “selfish, perverse and turbulent character,” and cast the starvation of millions as “the direct stroke of an all-wise and all-merciful Providence.”
Yet in her own time, Gráinne Ní Mháille was not the type to yield to aggression. Shaped by her family’s maritime legacy, she became a thorn in the English Crown – and emerged as a defiant figure important enough to be recorded in the English state papers – not merely as an exception, but as a figure so far outside the expectations of her era, that history has struggled to define her.
Next: the maritime world she mastered – its vessels, its routes, and the coastal knowledge that made power possible.
* Keelin is a writer/producer/actor. As co-producer of the gender equality in Hollywood documentary, “This Changes Everything”, she enlisted Meryl Streep, Shonda Rhimes, Cate Blanchett, and others to participate. She is currently in development with the feature “Mama Pirate”. For more, stay up-to-date on the project on Instagram @MamaPirateFilm.
Secrets of Clew Bay: Mayo’s power made Gráinne Ní Mháille hard to catch
Behind the bay’s calm surface lay a dangerous maze of tides, channels and shifting depths that gave the pirate queen a decisive edge.
This second installment in a five-part series, written by writer, producer and actor Keelin McCool, who is currently in development with the period drama feature Mama Pirate, traces the world that forged Gráinne Ní Mháille. In Clew Bay, where the calm waters conceal a labyrinth of islands, sandbars and treacherous channels, the old ways of sea knowledge helped make the legendary pirate queen nearly impossible to outmaneuver.
Gráinne’s Clew Bay looks deceptively tranquil. Its calm waters wrap around a coastal plain and curl into inlets, forming a basin dotted with approximately 141 low-lying, oval-shaped islands called drowned drumlins, creating a seascape that geologists refer to as a “basket of eggs”. This collection of shallow hills jutting out of the water was formed during the last Glacial Age, when the British-Irish Ice Sheet retreated, and sea levels subsequently rose.
Through the centuries, the bucolic bay looked benign to travelers unfamiliar with it. But it was almost impossible to navigate without first-hand knowledge of the narrow passages and varying depths. And in storms and darkness, it became treacherous – and deadly. This deep understanding was the source of her power and her leverage.
Locals knew that one wrong decision by a sailor unfamiliar with this seemingly serene coast could cause tragedy. A route that was usable at one stage of the tide might become too shallow or too narrow later. Higher water could hide hazards by covering them, making the surface appear passable even when rocks, shoals, or bars lay beneath. Lower water exposed more of the bay’s structure, but it also reduced the margin for error. So in Gráinne’s case, an outsider trying to pursue – or impose order – was at a distinct disadvantage.
The vessels, or galleys, of Gráinne’s time were constructed to operate within these constraints. Gráinne would use these to mount coastal raids, or transport Scottish gallowglass – mercenary warriors hired to assist clans in battles – as they could hold between 200 and 300 men. They were modeled after earlier Viking ships, with long, narrow hulls and shallow drafts, an extended prow, and a high transom. They were clinker-built, with the hull planks overlapping, making them more flexible in rough weather and lighter and faster, as the more solid outer planks absorbed the pummeling of open-sea waves.
Most had a single mast with a triangular lugsail, used on sea voyages or for long distances, which pointed toward the bow to pull the vessel forward and keep it steady when winds blew up. In calmer weather or when there was no wind, oars allowed the vessel to maneuver more quickly in battles or through narrow passages. With up to thirty oars and multiple men at each oar– meaning there could be 90 rowers and 100 men standing at the ready–Gráinne’s galley could reach speeds up to 7 knots, making it a very powerful weapon.
This speed and agility provided Gráinne with a clear advantage. When she once came across a shipwreck on the rocks off Achill Island, her boat quickly moved in close so she could rescue the sole survivor, Hugh De Lacy–who subsequently became her lover–and salvage the booty that had been dashed upon the rocks. And when English warships tried to stem her piracy of their trading ships by hunting her down, their deep drafts and slow movement were no match for the nimbleness of the galleys that could glide over sandbars or submerged rocks and disappear into inlets, leaving the English to abandon their game of hide-and-seek. Sir Henry Sidney was impressed enough to describe her as “a most notorious woman on all the coasts of Ireland,” and a “most famous feminine sea captain”.
Trade was also part of Gráinne’s influence. She not only used her ships to plunder; she came from a family that operated within a west-coast economy that depended on sea routes, tolls, transport, fishing, and overseas trade. The O’Malleys had long-standing links with Spain, sending out salted fish, pine marten skins, fleeces, cattle hides, and tallow, and bringing back iron, weapons, and wine.
This mattered because Galway was a merchant stronghold dominated by a tight-knit group of Anglo-Irish merchant families aligned with England, with its own privileges and a clear suspicion of neighboring Gaelic powers. The O’Flahertys, into whom Gráinne married, also depended on the sea for trade, food, and transport, but were a threat enough that Galway merchants sought to keep them out of the city. A French traveler, Jacques-Louis de Bougrenet, Chevalier de La Tocnaye, who visited Galway in 1796, wrote that he saw the inscription, “Oh! God! Deliver us of the ferocious O’Flaharty’s” still carved on the walls leading in.
The O’Malleys and the O’Flahertys, nevertheless, knew how to work around these choke points. Her real influence came from knowing how to move goods, men, tolls, and information through a coastal highway with no localized authority. The same waters that could hide shoals and sandbars could also create an alternate commercial system.
Once the coast dropped from sight, different skills took over. Instruments like the astrolabe could help a navigator judge latitude by the sun or stars, giving some sense of how far north or south a ship had drifted. But it could not find a narrow harbor entrance, read a tide that was turning, or tell you which channel would still be deep at dusk. For that, knowledge still lived in the crew.
And this is where Gráinne’s command remains something more than just seamanship. Her power resided not only in the open water, but in her own connection to the unique geography of her home–and where control could still be exercised by those who knew it best.
* Keelin is a writer/producer/actor. As co-producer of the gender equality in Hollywood documentary, “This Changes Everything”, she enlisted Meryl Streep, Shonda Rhimes, Cate Blanchett, and others to participate. She is currently in development with the feature “Mama Pirate”. For more, stay up-to-date on the project on Instagram @MamaPirateFilm.
How a white lie saved one Irish woman’s life aboard the Titanic
How Katie Gilnagh of Rhyne, Esker, Co Longford, survived the tragic sinking of the RMS Titanic.
Note: The anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic was last week
How Irish woman Katie Gilnagh survived the tragic sinking of the RMS Titanic.
On April 14, 1912, the White Star Line ship the RMS Titanic, struck an iceberg off Newfoundland. In the early hours of April 15, the Belfast-built Titanic sank, killing over 1,500 passengers and crew on board. This was one of the deadliest commercial peacetime maritime disasters in modern history and among those on board were many Irish.
Below is an extract from the book “The Irish Aboard the Titanic” by Senan Molony which tells the tales of the people who were on board the night the ship went down. This book gives those people a voice. In it are stories of agony, luck, self-sacrifice, dramatic escapes, and heroes left behind.
Titanic survivor stories: Katherine Gilnagh of Co Longford, Titanic survivor
Ticket number 35851.
Paid £7 14s 8d.
Boarded at Queenstown. Third Class.
From: Rhyne, Esker, County Longford.
Destination: 230 East 55th Street, New York City.
Katie Gilnagh survived because of a white lie. When she finally gained the upper deck, she was told that lifeboat No. 16 was too full and she could not go. As the boat began to descend, Katie cried: ‘But I want to go with my sister!’ The crewman hesitated and suddenly relented. She could get in.
‘God help me, I told a lie,’ she told the New York Daily News on the fiftieth anniversary of the sinking in 1962. ‘At first, they didn’t want to let anyone else into it because it was overcrowded. I said that I wanted to go with my sister. I had no sister aboard. They let me get in, but I had to stand because we were so crowded.’
Katie did have a sister in New York, who was inconsolably arranging for a Requiem Mass when Katie walked through the door.
Besides the lie, Miss Gilnagh had also lived because of her beauty and the effect it had on winning sympathy and securing help. On two separate occasions, men acted to ensure that Katie made progress to the upper decks.
During the crossing, she had occupied compartment Q161 on E deck, all the way aft on the starboard side, five decks down from the boats. Her cabin partners are believed to have been sisters Margaret and Kate Murphy, and Katie Mullen, all fellow travelers from County Longford. All four were saved on boat No. 16, launched from the port side.
Relatives say that a week before sailing, a gypsy woman called at the Gilnagh house and was being turned away by her father, Hughie, when Katie demanded that her fortune be read. She was told she would soon be crossing water, and there would be danger, but that she would come to no harm. The palm reading cost her sixpence.
Author Walter Lord, in “A Night to Remember,” described how years later Gilnagh told of attending a party in steerage on the Sunday night of the disaster. At one point, a rat scurried across the room. The boys gave chase, and the girls squealed with excitement. Then the party was on again. Lord describes what happened to Katie after the berg impact:
Katherine Gilnagh, a pert colleen not quite sixteen [sic], heard a knock on the door. It was the young man who had caught her eye earlier that day, playing the bagpipes on deck. He told her to get up – something was wrong with the ship …
At another barrier, a seaman held back Kathy Gilnagh, Kate Mullins, and Kate Murphy. (On the Titanic, all Irish girls seemed to be named Katherine.)
The report goes on to recount the story of how James Farrell got them through the gate and then continues:
Even then, Kathy Gilnagh’s troubles weren’t over. She took a wrong turn … lost her friends … found herself alone on the Second-Class promenade, with no idea how to reach the boats. The deck was deserted, except for a single man leaning against the rail, staring moodily into the night. He let her stand on his shoulders, and she managed to climb to the next deck up. When she finally reached the boat deck, No. 16 was just starting down. A man warned her off – there was no more room. ‘But I want to go with my sister!’ Kathy cried … ‘All right, get in,’ he sighed, and she slipped into the boat as it dropped to the sea – another Third-Class passenger safely away.
Gilnagh described James Farrell as her ‘guardian angel.’ He appears to have reached the upper decks, according to an Irish Independent report from May 15, 1912, about a letter written home by Katie concerning the ‘sad fate of fellow passengers from her district’:
(She) states that James Farrell of Clonee was very kind to her and another girl. As they were leaving the ill-fated vessel, he gave her his cap to cover her head and shouted Goodbye forever.’
An Irish Post article from May 25, 1912, records:
A County Longford survivor
Among the passengers who were saved from the ill-fated Titanic was a young lady named Miss Katie Gilnagh, of Killoe, County Longford, whose photo we reproduce. She has written to her parents in Longford, giving a graphic narrative of her experience.
In her letter, she states that she and another girl named McCoy were the last two girls taken on the last boat, and a young man who had previously gotten into the boat was taken out of it. She further states that she was wearing a small shawl on her head, which got blown off, when a person named Mr. James Farrell of Clonee gave her his cap.
As they were being lowered, he shouted: ‘Goodbye forever,’ and that was the last she saw of him.
Katie may have been identified aboard Carpathia by fellow survivor Lawrence Beesley in his 1912 book “The Loss of the SS Titanic”:
Among the Irish group was one girl of really remarkable beauty, black hair, and deep violet eyes with long lashes, perfectly shaped features, and quite young, not more than eighteen or twenty; I think she lost no relatives on the Titanic.
Katie was born in Rhyne, County Longford, on October 13, 1894, appearing in the 1901 census as the second eldest child of parents Hugh (35) and Johanna (33) Gilnagh. Katie was just six and had an elder sister, Mary (7), the same Molly who would be waiting anxiously in New York eleven years later. Four other children listed were Ellen (5), Thomas (3), Bridget (2), and one-year-old Elizabeth.
Katie was initially assisted by the Jewish Emigrant Society in New York and was aided to the tune of $100 by the American Red Cross, which described her as a 17-year-old Irish domestic servant. She later married John J. Manning from Roscommon. Heartbreak came to Katie with the death of her brother William in 1917, while her adoring sister Molly died in 1933. Katie also lost her husband before they could grow old together. He died in April 1955, not yet 60.
She went back to Ireland only once, in 1962, on the fiftieth anniversary of the sinking, and crossed the Atlantic for only the second time in her life – this time on an airliner. Her nephew Johnny Thompson recalls that a soothing voice which came over the intercom had the opposite effect on Katie: ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Smith … ’ Horribly alarmed and distressed, Katie had to be brought to the cockpit to verify that it wasn’t the same Captain Smith who was in charge on her first Atlantic journey.
Earlier that year, as a 67-year-old grandmother, Katie had attended a 50th-anniversary memorial service at the Merchant Marine Institute on South Street in Manhattan. She told the Daily News of her memories of the sinking:
When we had gotten away from the ship, I could see its lights, but it was so dark I didn’t know what was happening. The man in the boat kept saying, ‘I can see it sinking.’ Then I did see it sink. It went down bow first. The water crept up to the portholes, extinguishing the lights. When it went under, it made a loud, frightening noise. About eight hours later, we were rescued by the liner Carpathia. My relatives thought I was dead, and when I got to my sister’s house, they were preparing for my funeral.
She told her family that there had been epithets about the pope on steel girders about the Titanic, written by the ‘Orangemen’ among the Belfast builders, but made no claims about seeing them herself.
Unlike other Irish survivors, Kate was not haunted by memories of the Titanic and talked freely to those interested. She believed that she was spared for a reason and was intent on enjoying the years given to her after 1912. However, she never set foot on a ship again. Even when seeing off friends and family, she would only ever go as far as the gangway. She died on March 1, 1971, aged 76. Her death certificate gave a date of birth at odds with Irish records (October 29, 1895), making her 75 years old.
1911 census – Rhyne, Killoe, County Longford.
Hugh (46), farmer. Wife Johanna (44).
Married 18 years, ten children, nine surviving.
Mary (18), Kate (17), Ellen (15), Thomas (14), Bridget (12),
Elizabeth (11), Margaret (9), Johanna (7), Hugh (5).
“The Irish Aboard the Titanic” by Senan Molony is available online.
* Originally published in 2012, updated in April 2026.
The quiet brother who stood beside Pearse in 1916
A devoted artist and reluctant rebel, William Pearse played a lesser-known but deeply personal role in Ireland’s fight for independence.
William “Willie” Pearse, the younger brother of leader Pádraig Pearse, was more artist than soldier yet remained inseparable from his sibling throughout the Easter Rising. Though he held no major command and admitted his limited role, he was executed in May 1916, his fate sealed as much by loyalty as by rebellion.
William “Willie” Pearse was an Irish republican executed for his part in the 1916 Easter Rising. He was a younger brother of Patrick Pearse and his closest friend. Below, a look at the Irish revolutionary’s life.
William (Willie) Pearse was born on November 15, 1881, two years after his brother Patrick in the same house on Great Brunswick Street, in Dublin. From his birth to his death Willie was the closest friend his brother ever had.
They were so close that Patrick wrote about Willie: “What greater thing has ever happened to me than the coming of that good comrade? Willie and I have been true brothers. Willie’s companionship has been the one solace of my sorrowful life. As a boy, he has been my only playmate, as a man he has been my only intimate friend.”
While Patrick leaned more toward the literary, Willie followed in his father’s footsteps and became an artist. He studied at the Metropolitan School of Art, Kensington School of Art in London, and also in Paris. His most famous work, the Mater Dolorosa, can be viewed in the Mortuary Chapel of St. Andrew’s Church on Westland Row in Dublin (very near Pearse Station).
His other works are also on display at the Pearse Museum in Rathfarnham, the Cathedral of St. Eunan and St. Columba in Letterkenny, Donegal, and Limerick Cathedral. When Patrick opened his new school, St. Enda’s, Willie sold the family business and devoted himself to Patrick’s new venture.
Willie was a bit of a bohemian with long hair and a flair for the stage. With his sister Mary Brigid, he formed the Leinster Stage Society, which put on plays at the Abbey Theatre for the financial benefit of St. Enda’s.
Aparently, he was not a natural. Máire Nic Shiubhlaigh, Cumann na mBan member and stage actress, gave this blunt assessment of Willie’s stage talents: “It seems a hard thing to say that he was never terribly successful as an actor. He never lost his self-consciousness on a stage. He was acutely aware of the unsuitability of his speech… [he spoke slowly, with a lisp]…His voice never completely became his servant. But what he lacked in ability he made up in enthusiasm.”
Willie was a member of the Irish Volunteers and held the rank of Staff Captain. During Easter Week he was the aide-de-camp to his brother and basically served as a courier for his brother, making sure orders were delivered around Dublin.
“He was such a quiet, unassertive, inoffensive individual, one could not associate him with bloodshed,” said T.K. Moylan. “I doubt if he ever fired a gun, even in Easter Week. I could not think of anyone less likely to take the life of a fellow man.”
Willie left the GPO with his brother and the remaining volunteers and took refuge in Moore Street. Upon surrender, he led his men, carrying a white flag.
At Richmond Barracks Liam O’Briain observed: “There was a dreamy-eyed, young man with rather long hair who looked like an artist and was wearing Volunteer uniform … Young Pearse was turning from side to side on my left, very disturbed, though he was fast asleep.”
At his court-martial, he was the only one to enter a plea of “guilty.” He told the court: “I had no authority or say in the arrangements for the starting of the rebellion. I was throughout only a personal attaché to my brother, P.H. Pearse. I had no direct command.” He was condemned to death.
The British tried to bring Willie from Richmond Barracks to visit Patrick before he was shot at Kilmainham, but when he got to the jail he was told he was “Too late.”
Love Irish history? Share your favorite stories with other history buffs in the IrishCentral History Facebook group.
Unlike Patrick, he was visited the night before his execution by his mother and sister Margaret. “We talked quietly, calmly [to him] and chiefly about personal matters,” recalled Margaret. “We told him how proud we were of him and Pat, and that we were satisfied they had done right…[Then]…we bade [him] …a last goodbye and left him gazing after us, one longing, sad look till the cell door closed… Though our sorrow and loss are very great indeed, we were resigned. Pat and Willie, so wonderfully united in life, were also united in death.”
He received the sacraments before his execution. Said Father Augustine: “He was beautifully calm, made his confession as if he were doing it on an ordinary occasion and received Holy Communion with great devotion. A few minutes later he stood before the firing squad.”
He was shot between 4-4:30 a.m. His body was removed to Arbour Hill where he was buried between Michael O’Hanrahan and Joseph Plunkett. His biggest crime, it seems, was being the brother of Patrick Pearse.
* Originally published in April 2016. Updated November 2025.
~~~~~~~~~~
* Dermot McEvoy is the author of “The 13th Apostle: A Novel of a Dublin Family, Michael Collins, and the Irish Uprising and Irish Miscellany” (Skyhorse Publishing). He may be reached at [email protected]. Follow him at www.dermotmcevoy.com. Follow The 13th Apostle on Facebook here.
Click below to watch, and click the speaker after the video starts
Even in the snow in Forteau Newfoundland and Labrador there’s Irish music.
Ahhhhhhhh Spring
Click below to watch, and click the speaker after the video starts
Submitted by Lawrence Mahoney
The beauty of Irish language as springtime blooms
The poetry of the Irish language is a gift to behold as springtime draws near.
I love our Irish language and often find myself reciting some of the beautiful poetry written in our native tongue as springtime nears.
This month I always think of the Irish poet Antoine Ó Raifteirí. His Irish language poem “Cill Aodáin” recounts as he set off for his native Mayo at the beginning of spring every year:
“Anois teacht an earraigh, beidh ‘n lá dul chun síneadh. ‘S tar éis na Féil’ Bríde, ardóidh mé mo sheol. Ó chuir mé ‘mo cheann é ní stopfaidh mé choíche go seasfaidh mé síos i lár Chontae Mhaigh Eo.”
That translates to:
Now coming of the Spring
the day will be lengthening,
and after St. Bridget’s Day
I shall raise my sail.Since I put it into my head
I shall never stay put
until I shall stand down
in the center of County Mayo.
And the place he is heading to is his hometown of Kiltimagh (Cill Aodáin). I love what he says about this – “Is dá mbéinnse i mo sheasamh i gceartlár mo dhaoine d’imeodh an aois díom is bheinn arís óg.”
When he is with his own people, he will be young again, he tells us, using the first person, modh cionníolach.
As springtime nears, I think of the Irish words for the flowers blooming in my garden now, plúiríní sneachta agus lus an chromchinn – snowdrops and daffodils.
The many wise seanfhocail we learned frequently come to mind, ‘Ní thagann ciall roimh aois,’ how true! Wisdom does not come before age. (We should be super wise now!!)
‘Giorraíonn beirt bóthar.’ (Two people shorten a road.)
Read more
This one often comes to mind. My older sister lives in Laois. I drive there regularly, and the journey takes exactly an hour. I find it long when I’m alone. However, if my younger sister comes with me, it seems to take only a few minutes, as we chat nonstop the whole way.
‘Is fearr an tsláinte ná na táinte.’ (Health is better than a herd of cattle.)
We would usually say that ‘health is better than wealth.’ The older we get, the truer this saying becomes!
‘An rud is annamh is iontach.’ (That which is rare is wonderful.)
I think of this one always when I am on a strict diet. I allow myself one glass of wine at the weekend and one biscuit. How delicious both taste then!
‘Bíonn blas ar an mbeagán,’ states the same thing.
‘Mól an óige agus tiocfaidh sí.’(Praise the young and they will do well)
A saying close to my heart. How wrong people were in the past to consider that praise would give a child ‘a swelled head.’ “You think you’re great,’ was an insult long ago.
Other well-known sean-fochail are:
‘Nil aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin.’ (There’s no hearth like your own hearth.)
‘Fileann an feall ar an bhfeallaire.” (Treachery returns to the traitor.)
“Is gaire cabhair Dé ná an doras.” (God’s help is nearer than the door.)
“Tus mait, leath na hoibre.” (A good beginning, half the work.)
‘Bíonn adharca fada ar na ba thar lear.’ (The cows overseas have long horns.)
This one is also very true indeed!
‘Ní neart go cur le chéile.’ (There is no strength until there is cooperation.)
‘Ní hé lá na gaoithe lá na scolb.’ (The windy day is not the day for the scollops, that is the day for thatching the roof.)
‘An té nach bhfuil láidir, caithfidh se bheith sé bheith glic.’ (He who is not strong needs to be clever.)
All very wise words! Take heed.
This Week’s Question:
Why Do My Irish Ancestors Have Biblical Names Like Cornelius or Jeremiah?
Hi Tom,
Each week, we take a reader question and share suggested approaches, resources, and a little historical context to help answer that question.
Do feel free to reply to this email and let me know if it helped you in any way, it’s always great to get feedback.
Today we answer the question: Why Do My Irish Ancestors Have Biblical Names Like Cornelius or Jeremiah?
Let’s kick off with the following question from David:
“Dear Mike, while researching my Cork ancestors, I have noticed a pattern of names like Cornelius, Jeremiah, and Thaddeus (sometimes Timothy) appearing throughout my family tree. My grandmother once mentioned that these were not originally biblical names, but substitutions for older Irish names. Is that true? Why would Irish names be replaced in this way, and can it help me trace my family further back?”
David, South Carolina, USA
It is an excellent question, and your grandmother was on the right track. Many names that appear biblical or classical in Irish records are not what they seem. In many cases, they stand in place of much older Irish names, reshaped over time as the language of record shifted from Irish to Latin and then to English. Once you understand this, a number of otherwise puzzling patterns in your research begin to make sense.
What Is Really Going On with These Names?
Before Christianity, Irish naming traditions were entirely native. Names such as Conchobhar (spelled as Conor in modern times), Diarmaid, and Tadhg carried meanings tied to status, character, or the natural world. They belonged to a Gaelic culture that had its own long continuity.
As Christianity took hold from the fifth century onward, new naming influences arrived. Saints’ names and biblical names began to appear, but they did not simply replace the older Irish names. For many centuries, both systems existed side by side.
The real shift came later, when names needed to be written down in Latin and, eventually, in English. At that point, practical problems arose. Many Irish names had no obvious equivalent in these languages. Clergy and scribes therefore chose approximate or familiar alternatives. Sometimes the choice was guided loosely by sound, sometimes by habit, and sometimes simply by what seemed acceptable in a church or administrative record.
Over time, these substitutions became standard. By the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, they were often the only forms recorded, and many families adopted them in everyday use. The original Irish forms, while still spoken in some areas, were increasingly pushed to the background.
A Few Key Examples from Cork and Munster
The pattern you have noticed in your Cork family is particularly strong in Munster, where certain substitutions became deeply embedded:
Cornelius and Conchobhar (Conor): Cornelius is one of the most recognisable examples. In many Cork and Kerry families, it stands in place of the much older Irish name Conchobhar. This was a prestigious name in early Ireland, associated with kingship and heroic tradition. The link between the two is not a direct translation, but a long-standing convention that became fixed in local usage.
Jeremiah and Diarmaid: Jeremiah is another classic Munster pairing. It commonly represents the Irish name Diarmaid, a name borne by kings and celebrated in Irish storytelling, particularly in the tale of Diarmaid and Gráinne. In counties like Cork, the use of Jeremiah became so widespread that it now feels entirely natural, even though its roots lie elsewhere. A pet form of the name, Darby, also became popular.
Timothy and Tadhg: Tadhg, one of the most common names in medieval Ireland, was eventually rendered as Timothy in many English-language records. Earlier forms such as Thaddeus also appear, but Timothy became the more familiar everyday substitute over time, especially in the south of the country. A pet form of Thaddeus, Thady, can also be found in many records.
Denis and Donnchadh (pronounced “Dunn-a-ka”): Denis, or Dennis, often represents Donnchadh, meaning “brown warrior”. This is another example where a well-known European saint’s name became attached to a native Irish one through long usage rather than direct equivalence.
Taken together, these examples show a pattern rather than a set of precise translations. They are best understood as conventions that grew up over time and became normal within particular regions.
Most Irish genealogy advice tells you what records exist… but not how to actually use them together.
Our case study guide, Researching Your Irish Ancestors, walks through a real example from start to finish, showing how to use records, websites, and sources in the right order.
It is a practical way to understand the process, rather than trying to piece it together from scattered advice.
Why This Matters for Your Research
This is not simply an interesting historical detail, but has very practical consequences for your research.
First, it explains why the same individual may appear under different names in different records. A man baptised as Diarmaid may later appear as Jeremiah in a marriage record, and perhaps as “Jerry” in everyday use – or maybe even Darby. Without recognising the connection, it is easy to assume you are looking at different people.
Second, it helps you search more effectively. If you are looking for a Cornelius in earlier records, it is often worth considering whether a Conor or Conchobhar might lie behind the name. In the same way, a Timothy may lead you back to Tadhg in an earlier generation.
Third, it gives you a clearer sense of cultural context. Naming patterns often reflect how a family positioned itself over time. Some held more closely to Irish forms, while others adopted Anglicised versions earlier, sometimes for practical or social reasons.
Finally, these patterns can be strongly regional. The prevalence of Cornelius, Jeremiah, and Denis in Cork is not accidental. It reflects long-established naming traditions in that part of the country. Recognising those patterns can help confirm that you are working in the right place and with the right family.
Working with These Name Patterns
When you encounter this kind of substitution, it is worth taking a deliberate approach. Build a small list of name variations within your own family. Include formal versions, shortened forms, and anything that appears in different types of records. Over time, you will begin to see patterns.
Pay attention to how names shift across generations and across record types. Church registers, civil records, and local usage do not always align neatly. Above all, remain open to variation. Irish genealogy rarely follows a single, consistent path, and names are one of the clearest places where that reality shows itself.
Final Thoughts
So, remember that names like Cornelius, Jeremiah, and Timothy are not simply borrowed from the Bible. In many Irish families, they are in fact the later forms of much older names, shaped by centuries of language change and historical pressure.
Once you see this clearly, your records begin to read differently. What first appeared as a break in the line may, in fact, be continuity under another name. And in Irish genealogy, that kind of shift in perspective often makes all the difference.
Slán for now,
Mike
News From Ireland
Aer Lingus launches Raleigh Durham service ahead of UNC’s Dublin trip
New five weekly route strengthens ties between Ireland and North Carolina just as the Tar Heels prepare for the 2026 Aer Lingus College Football Classic.
Aer Lingus has launched its first direct flight from Dublin to Raleigh Durham International Airport, opening a new transatlantic link to North Carolina’s Research Triangle and beyond. The timing is especially fitting, with the University of North Carolina set to travel to Dublin this August for the 2026 Aer Lingus College Football Classic against TCU.
Aer Lingus’ new service to Raleigh-Durham launches just in time for the 2026 Aer Lingus College Football Classic, featuring the University of North Carolina’s Tar Heels.
Ireland’s national airline, Aer Lingus launched its inaugural flight from Dublin to Raleigh-Durham International Airport in North Carolina this week. This new route will directly connect the Tar Heel State and Ireland, whilst also offering seamless onward connections through Dublin to the UK and Europe. This service will operate up to five times weekly on Aer Lingus’ new Airbus A321XLR aircraft.
The new route to the Raleigh-Durham region brings increased connectivity to North Carolina’s Research Triangle, which includes Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill. The innovation hub is home to Research Triangle Park (RTP), one of the largest research parks in the world, which houses hundreds of tech and biotech companies.
The region is also home to top universities such as North Carolina State University (Raleigh), Duke University (Durham) and University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, making it a hub for innovation, research and higher education.
The new Dublin-Raleigh-Durham service is perfectly poised to serve fans from the University of North Carolina (UNC) travelling to the 2026 Aer Lingus College Football Classic in the Aviva Stadium, Dublin, this August. UNC will take on Texas Christian University (TCU) in the opening weekend of the NCAA college football season in what will be the international debut for both teams.
In 2025, the Aer Lingus College Football Classic attracted almost 23,000 visitors from the U.S. to Ireland.
The inaugural flight, EI85, from Dublin to Raleigh-Durham International Airport further supports Aer Lingus’ Dublin Hub strategy, offering customers convenient connections between North America and Europe. The new service connects the Raleigh-Durham region with more than 20 destinations across the UK and Europe, including Glasgow, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam, London and Madrid.
Read more
Next month, Aer Lingus will also launch a new service to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, bringing the airline’s total number of routes from Ireland to North America to 24.
Lynne Embleton, Chief Executive Officer, Aer Lingus, said: “Our new route creates a direct connection between Ireland and the Raleigh-Durham region for the first time, making it even easier for customers to travel to Dublin and onwards to destinations across the UK and Europe.
“The Raleigh-Durham region is a hub for technology, innovation and research, and this additional connectivity to that region will allow the business and educational ties on both sides of the Atlantic to flourish.
“Launching ahead of the 2026 Aer Lingus College Football Classic makes this service especially timely, and we’re really looking forward to welcoming UNC fans to Ireland this August as the Tar Heels take to the field at the Aviva Stadium in Dublin.”
Tommy Mac here….
Many great musicians started out at this Irish Arts Center.
It has grown quite a bit from when Pat Lyons told me there was only one room up and one room down in his day!
Irish Arts Center expands board with five new members
as second phase of major transformation advances
Five high-profile leaders join the New York institution as it advances an ambitious redevelopment and expansion of its cultural campus.
The New York cultural institution has added leaders from health care, law, finance, film and music as it pushes ahead with redevelopment plans for its original 51st Street building. John Martin has also been named board president, while Robert J. McCann continues as board chair.
The Irish Arts Center has announced a major expansion of its board, welcoming five new trustees as the organization moves deeper into the public phase of its $50 million Phase Two Campaign. The new members are Michael J. Dowling, Gina Maria Leonetti, Tom McInerney, Aidan Synnott and Bill Whelan, bringing the board to 20 members.
Aidan Connolly, executive director of the Irish Arts Center, said, “We are delighted and grateful to welcome these five extraordinary directors to the Irish Arts Center board. With an incredible depth of experience across executive leadership and entrepreneurship, healthcare, finance, politics, law, theatre, music and film, each will bring a fresh perspective in the service of our core values as we plan for the completion of our new IAC campus with the redevelopment of our 51st Street home.”
McCann also praised the new trustees and thanked the board’s nominations and governance leaders for guiding the expansion.
He said, “I am honored to welcome these extraordinary leaders to our organization, and I salute our Nominations and Governance Committee Chairs Kristine Covillo Lynch and John Daly for their stewardship of this first phase of our board expansion, and all our board members for their commitment to building the strongest possible organization for the future.”
The center also announced a leadership change on the board. John Martin, who has served on the board since 2010 and has been treasurer and chair of the audit committee, has been elected board president. Aidan Synnott will take over as treasurer and chair of the audit committee, while McCann remains board chair and Kristine Covillo Lynch continues as secretary and chair of nominations and governance.
The five new board members bring wide-ranging experience and connections that reflect the center’s growing profile.
Michael J. Dowling, the CEO emeritus of Northwell Health, has been a prominent voice on public health and social issues and has been honored with major awards in Ireland and the United States.
Gina Maria Leonetti is a documentary and film producer and serves as chair of the National Coalition Against Censorship.
Tom McInerney is president and chief executive officer of Genworth Financial and has also been active in civic and educational organizations.
Aidan Synnott is a partner at Paul, Weiss and has built a reputation in antitrust litigation and complex commercial disputes.
Bill Whelan, the Grammy-winning composer behind “Riverdance”, is one of Ireland’s best-known musical figures.
The Irish Arts Center said the board growth comes as its spring 2026 season is underway, with programming that includes Martin Hayes and the Common Ground Ensemble’s St. Patrick’s Day Celebration at Carnegie Hall, Bell X1’s reimagining of its catalog, and the upcoming “North Star” production scheduled for June 3 to 21. The organization said the new trustees will help guide its next chapter as it deepens its role as a home for contemporary Irish and Irish American arts in New York.
Founded in 1972, the Irish Arts Center has become one of the most visible Irish cultural institutions in the United States, serving audiences with theater, dance, music, literature, and community programming. With its new building already open and the redevelopment of the original site now underway, the center says the next phase will help ensure its mission continues for decades to come.
10 Irish people have landed a spot on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list
Rather impressively, ten Irish people have landed themselves a spot on the Forbes 30 Under 30 Europe list.
A very prestigious competition: over 20k entries are submitted each year. Many young entrepreneurs, scientists, and actors are making a difference in the world, but few stand out from the crowd.
From a well-known Irish actor to the founder of an entrepreneurial venture into the world of health foods, meet the young Irish people proving their worth on a global stage.
Éanna Hardwicke
At 29 years old, Éanna Hardwicke has just made the cut for the Forbes 30 Under 30 list.
The Cork man is best known for his roles in the adaptation of Sally Rooney’s “Normal People” and RTÉ’s “Smother”. Most recently, he took on the task of portraying Roy Keane in “Saipan”, opposite Steve Coogan.
Áine Kennedy
Áine Kennedy launched The Smooth Company in 2022 with little more than €12,000, and it’s since expanded into a beauty empire.
She told EVOKE: £This is literally such a dream come true! I honestly can’t believe it. I’ve put it on my goals list every year since starting The Smooth Company, so this really is the biggest dream come true.
“Genuinely the craziest email to ever get! I am lost for words right now, but so, so grateful.”
Hazel Doupe
Hazel Doupe is a 24-year-old actress who hails from Dublin.
She made her breakthrough in the coming-of-age film “Float Like a Butterfly” in 2018, and has since gone on to appear in films such as “You Are Not My Mother” and “The Miracle Club“.
On TV, she’s known for her role in “Say Nothing”, starring alongside Lola Petticrew and Anthony Boyle.
Aghogho Okpara
Self-described as “a very ambitious woman”, Aghogho Okpara is a medical student and social media influencer known for her advocacy and educational equity.
In 2023, she was awarded the title of Gold Medal Winner for Research Excellence at UCD School of Medicine. She founded Achieve with Aghogho, which “helps ambitious students turn potential into success”.
Áine Murphy
Áine Murphy, 28, is the brains behind Young Irish Budgeter (YIB), which focuses on “promoting accessible financial literacy for the next generation”.
On Instagram, she’s garnered 261,000 followers thus far.
“I feel so grateful to be included alongside such incredible people, so many of whom I’ve looked up to and admired for a long time,” she said of being recognized by Forbes. “I truly believe social media can be a force for good. I’ve always seen it as a powerful tool to create positive impact.”
Billy O’Hora
At 29 years old, Billy O’Hora is the youngest Director of Partnerships ever at the ATP Tour, the global governing body of men’s professional tennis.
There, he works across 58 tournaments in 29 markets, overseeing $100 million in annual partnership revenue with a portfolio that includes Emirates, PIF, Rolex, Lacoste, Infosys, and Stella Artois.
Laura Murphy
Laura Murphy, founder of Oatco Superfuel, has also been recognized by Forbes.
She said: “This has been an absolute dream of mine for as long as I can remember, and to get this news this morning means the absolute world!!!
“When I started Oatco, I had such a vision and big dreams for what this could become, and without all of you supporting me, my family, my team, our retailers, none of these crazy moments would have happened.”
Jack Cregan
Jack Cregan is the founder of Paymend, a Dublin-based revenue recovery platform that helps businesses convert failed card payments into completed sales. It does this by acting as a merchant of record and assuming transaction risk.
In 2025, the bootstrapped company recovered $53 million in failed payments with a 25-person team across six countries.
Donnacha Fitzgerald
Donnacha Fitzgerald is the founder of Origenity. The brand uses AI to build new cells with desired traits, and ‘precisely steer the genome’ in the field of genetics.
Currently, he’s designing tougher T-cells that resist exhaustion during cancer therapy. The company is supported by Emergent Ventures, Fifty Years, and Boost VC and is finalizing a $3 million funding round.
Rachel Beatty
Rachel Beatty, a lecturer at the Royal College of Surgeons, is the final of ten Irish people to have been recognized in the Forbes 30 Under 30 list.
In collaboration with researchers at MIT, Rachel solved a challenge in her field by developing a first-of-its-kind implant that can detect immune attacks and adjust to overcome them. Groundbreaking!
* This article was originally published on Evoke.ie.
Catalpa flag to go on display at National Museum of Ireland for first time
The massive flag that helped carry out one of the most daring rescues in Irish American history will be shown in Dublin this weekend for the first time since 1972.
The National Museum of Ireland at Collins Barracks will mark the 150th anniversary of the Catalpa Rescue Mission with a rare public display of the ship’s flag, a historic symbol of Fenian daring and transatlantic Irish-American cooperation. The Flag of the Catalpa will go on view on Saturday, April 18, and Sunday, April 19, 2026, in the Palatine Room.
Measuring 4.5 by 3 meters and featuring 36 hand-sewn stars, it is the largest flag in the national collection and was the official flag of the United States between July 4, 1865, and July 4, 1867.
The flag is one of the last surviving artifacts linked to the dramatic prison break in Western Australia that unfolded 150 years ago, from April 17 to 19, 1876. During the operation, six Fenian prisoners escaped from a British penal colony and made their way aboard the US whaling ship Catalpa.
James Wilson, Thomas Darragh, Martin Hogan, Michael Harrington, Thomas Hassett, and Robert Cranston were among 62 Irish Republican Brotherhood leaders and supporters transported to Fremantle after the Fenian uprising of 1867. By 1875, most had been released, but these six men remained behind bars.
The rescue was organized through the efforts of John Devoy, leader of Clan na Gael in New York, along with John Boyle O’Reilly and Thomas McCarthy Fennell, both of whom had been imprisoned in Fremantle. They arranged for the purchase and refitting of the Catalpa so it could sail to Western Australia and bring the prisoners to the United States.
In April 1876, after an 11-month voyage, the Catalpa arrived off Western Australia under the command of Captain George Anthony and waited for the men to escape. When the six Fenians finally boarded the vessel, the Georgette, a ship operated by the British authorities in Fremantle, gave chase and threatened to fire unless the crew surrendered the prisoners.
Captain Anthony responded by raising the American flag and warning that any attack would mean firing on the United States. The Georgette backed down and returned to Fremantle, helping the Catalpa escape safely to New York.
Patrick O’Donovan TD, Minister for Culture, Communications and Sport, said, “The Catalpa rescue is a significant moment in the history of the fight for Irish independence. It is also symbolic of the important role Irish American relations played in its success, and timely, given the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 2026.
“There are celebrations happening globally for this event, including programs that my Department is supporting through the local authority network in Kildare and Dublin, and with support from the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in Rockingham, Australia, where the prisoners escaped from. I am very pleased that my Department could also support the National Museum of Ireland so that members of the public can now view this storied flag at Collins Barracks as we mark the 150th anniversary of the rescue mission.”
Brenda Malone, Curator of Military History at the National Museum of Ireland, said, “This is a really evocative piece of history that we’re putting on display for the public. The Catalpa rescue mission is one of the most celebrated prison breaks of this era and an important milestone in the fight for Irish independence, with its success boosting confidence in and support for the cause in both Ireland and the United States of America.
“To have the original flag from the historic mission under the care of the National Museum is a real honor and privilege, and we are delighted to be able to share this piece of history with the public this month.”
Dr. Éimear O’Connor, Interim Director and Director of Collections and Access at the National Museum of Ireland, said, “We are thrilled to showcase the Catalpa flag to the public to mark the 150th anniversary of the historic Fenian rescue in Western Australia. It is the largest flag in the national collection, and its size and delicate condition prevent it from being shown in standard gallery spaces, but it will be on display in the Palatine Room for two days to mark the anniversary, making this a rare opportunity for the public to view this important historic object in person.”
For more information visit Museum.ie.
Inside covert Dubai op to arrest Daniel Kinahan as fresh details emerge
The crime boss, who has been hunted by the authorities for years, was arrested on Wednesday on foot of a warrant issued by an Irish court in relation to alleged serious organised crime offences.
Gang leader Daniel Kinahan has been arrested in the United Arab Emirates and faces extradition back to Ireland.
The crime boss-turned-boxing promoter, who has been hunted by the authorities for years, was arrested on Wednesday on foot of a warrant issued by an Irish court in relation to alleged serious organised crime offences.
The 48-year-old and his father, Christy Kinahan Sr, have been living in Dubai since 2016, when they moved from the Costa Del Sol in Spain following the murder of David Byrne at the Regency Hotel that sparked a brutal and bloody gang war.
A senior Garda source told Extra.ie Kinahan: ‘Had been under close surveillance for two days by Dubai police before they moved in.’
Extra.ie understands that a local shopping mall and nearby Indian restaurant not far from the Burj Khalifa served as the main hubs for surveillance on Kinahan.
Michael O’Sullivan, former Assistant Garda Commissioner, said the arrest, following the extradition last year of senior Kinahan gang member Seán McGovern, would mean that the sense of sanctuary felt by criminals who fled Europe for the Middle East was ‘rapidly being eroded’.
He said: ‘A lot of groups stayed out there despite the fact that the Americans were looking for them, and they felt safe and they felt secure.’
However, he said increasing cross-border agreements between authorities are giving police forces a ‘greater reach’, ‘with the result that now they have to be lucky all the time, and law enforcement only have to be lucky once’.
The government of Dubai confirmed in a statement that it had arrested an ‘Irish fugitive tied to transnational organised crime network’.
Mr Kinahan has been named by the High Court of Ireland as ‘a senior figure in organised crime on a global scale’, while the Criminal Assets Bureau identified him as the controller of the Kinahan cartel, which allegedly smuggles guns and drugs into Ireland, the UK and mainland Europe.
The Kinahan cartel has been locked in a murderous feud with the Hutch Gang, which began in 2015, when Gary Hutch was murdered in Marbella, Spain by the Kinahan group.
The ensuing gang war claimed 18 lives over the next three years and brought daylight shootings to the streets of Dublin.
One senior garda told the Mail last night: ‘This is a major, major coup. The warrants were obtained in the High Court. The gardaí had gone to the High Court after a decision was made to charge Kinahan in connection with serious organised crime offences.
‘The extradition was sought from the High Court here. He was arrested based on the Irish warrants. So, arrest warrants were then issued over there for him… I know the Americans wanted him, too, but it’s Ireland he’s destined for.’
The source added: ‘It was a personal drive from Justin Kelly, who is now the Garda Commissioner – he was previously Assistant Commissioner for Organised and Serious Crime and never let up in the hunt for the Kinahans.
‘Ultimately, though, it was the Garda National Drugs and Organised Crime Bureau, under Detective Chief Superintendent Séamus Boland who must get a lot of the credit for this.
‘Assistant Commissioner Angela Willis never gave up the hunt for the Kinahans, either.
‘And we cannot forget our former Assistant Commissioner John O’Driscoll who was instrumental in getting the Americans involved. Sadly, John died shortly after his retirement and didn’t get to see Kinahan arrested before he died.’
In a statement last night, An Garda Síochána said it is ‘aware of the arrest of an Irish national in the United Arab Emirates’.
It said the arrest was in accordance with a bilateral agreement on extradition between Ireland and United Arab Emirates.
‘The arrest of the Irish National in Dubai remains a matter for the authorities in the United Arab Emirates at this time,’ it continued.
‘Today’s arrest is another extremely important demonstration of the need for international law enforcement co-operation in tackling transnational organised crime.’
The government of Dubai confirmed in a statement that it had, in collaboration with the UAE Ministry of Interior, ‘arrested an Irish fugitive for his alleged role in an international organised crime network’.
‘The arrest comes as part of efforts to combat cross-border crime,’ it said,
It continued: ‘The arrest followed the receipt of a judicial file from Irish authorities detailing the suspect’s alleged crimes and his involvement in an international criminal organisation. Based on the file, Dubai Public Prosecution issued an arrest warrant to initiate legal procedures ahead of his extradition.
‘Specialised teams immediately launched intensive search and surveillance operations, leading to the suspect’s capture within 48 hours of the warrant being issued. Dubai Police confirmed that the arrest took place on April 15, reflecting the force’s rapid response and operational readiness in handling international cases.’
Justice Minister Jim O’Callaghan said he welcomed the arrest, which ‘follows my request to the UAE for extradition of this individual to face charges in Ireland’.
He continued: ‘I would like to commend all involved in today’s development, which is the result of tireless work by the Garda National Drugs and Organised Crime Bureau, the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions, officials in the Department of Justice with their UAE counterparts, the Department of Foreign Affairs and other agencies.’
* This article was originally published on Extra.ie.
Jokes
What this country needs are more unemployed politicians.
— Edward Langley, Artist (1928-1995)
Funnies From My Wife
Funny Headlines
Times when you might be excused for using foul language
Oxygen and a flame…..What could possibly go wrong????
Funny Statue Photos
Funny Signs
The Pub
Click below to watch, and click the speaker after the video starts
Good night to you all….Tommy Mac
Click below to watch…click the speaker for sound…
after the video starts
Many news items, stories, recipes, jokes, and poems are taken from these sites
with their generous permission.
Please support them by clicking on the links below
and sign up for their free newsletter.
Welcome to
Tír na mBláth
Tír na mBláth is one of hundreds of branches throughout the world of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (CCÉ) pronounced “kol-tus kyol-tori air-in“, the largest group involved in the preservation of Irish music, dance and song.
Our board and membership is made up of Irish, Irish descendants, and all those who support, celebrate and take pride in the preservation of Irish culture.
We also aim to promote good will and citizenship.
Interested in belonging to Tír na mBláth? Feel free to download our membership form
Facebook page is at Tír na mBláth
Our meetings and several events are held at Tim Finnegan’s Irish Pub in Delray Beach Florida.
Well, that's it for this week.
Number of visitors to this website since Sept 2022