Someone told me that they saw a message on this list about the tenor Frank Patterson and the last ballad he sang to his son before he died. Could someone please tell me when did he die and what was the name of that ballad. I play his CD's in my car all the time while I am driving and did not know he had passed away. He and his beautiful voice are a great loss to all lovers of Irish music. Michelle-VT. USA

AUTUMN SONG Long Autumn rain; White mists which choke the vale, and blot the sides Of the bewildered hills; in all the plain No field agleam where the gold pageant was, And silent o'er a tangle of drenched grass The blackbird glides. In the heart, -- fire, Fire and clear air and cries of water-springs, And large, pure winds; all April's quick desire, All June's possession; a most fearless Earth Drinking great ardours; and the rapturous birth Of winged things. -- Edward Dowden (1843-1913)

BIO: Jenny HODGERS (1844-1915) was born in Belfast, came to America as a stowaway and settled in Belvidere, IL. She disguised herself as a man and enlisted in Company G of the 95th Illinois Volunteer Infantry. Known to her fellow soldiers as Albert CASHIER., Hodgers served from 1862 to 1865 without ever being detected as a female. She fought with the regiment at Vicksburg, Red River, and Nashville, ending up in Mobile, AL at the war's end. Mustered out, she returned to Illinois, where she took up farming. She lived the rest of her days under the guise of a man. The truth of her identity was discovered in 1911 when she received medical treatment for a broken leg, but the doctor agreed to keep it secret. Hodgers' story was revealed to the public when she was committed to an insane asylum at the ago of 70 and officials discovered her true sex. After an official inquiry, the Bureau of Pensions in Washington declared that Jennie HODGERS was indeed Albert Cashier who had! served in the 95th Illinois Volunteer Infantry. When she died in 1915 she was given a funeral with full military honors. -- Excerpt, "1001 Things Everyone Should Know about Irish American History, Edward T. O'Donnell (2002).

BIO: The late Frank PATTERSON, well-known tenor who sang from the heart, was a native of Clonmel, Co. Tipperary. Patterson first pursued his talent in Dublin and then continued his vocal training in London, Holland, and France. He had recorded at least 32 classical albums, frequently accompanied by his pianist-wife Eily O'GRADY. Whether ringing through the rafters of New York's Carnegie Hall or in the consecrated corridors of an Irish monastery, the dulcet tones of Irish tenor Frank Patterson never failed to bring his listeners back to the Auld Sod. Patterson's rendition of "Danny Boy" in the film "Miller's Crossing" was unforgettable. He played an Irish tenor in John Huston's "The Dead" and Neil Jordan's "Michael Collins." An handsome, engaging entertainer, Patterson performed in concert halls worldwide, including at least twice at the White House. He apparently died just a few years ago.

SNIPPET: "The Dead" (1987), John HUSTON's final film, is a beautiful and loyal adaptation of James JOYCE's short story. Huston directs his daughter Angelica as "Gretta," Donal McCANN as her husband "Gabriel," and a mostly Irish cast, including the later tenor Frank PATTERSON. Joyce's story is effectively filmed in an unforgettable way.

THE OSPREY To whom certain water talents -- Webbed feet, oils - do not occur, Regulates his liquid acre >From the sky, his proper element. There, already, his eye removes The trout each fathom magnifies. He lives without compromise, His unamphibious two lives -- An inextinguishable bird whom No lake waters waterlog. He shakes his feathers like a dog, It's all of air that ferries him. -- Michael Longley (born 1939 Belfast)

BIO: Born in Dublin in 1957, Mary Morrissy's literary work includes a collection of short stories, "A Lazy Eye," and an exceptional novel, "Mother of Pearl." Morrissy's fiction has been described as an intricate and often disturbing interior portrait of isolated working class women in Ireland. "Mother of Pearl," a novel about a disappearance of a baby born to an unhappy marriage in 1950s Ireland, was recommended by the magazine "Irish America." Since their introduction in 1989, the Lannan Literary Awards have honored many writers and distributed prizes to writers the Foundation believes have made a significant contribution to English-language literature. The Lannan Foundation was established in 1960 by Irish-American J. Patrick Lannan, a Los Angeles-based entrepreneur, financier and philanthropist. Mary Morrissy, the "Irish Times" journalist and authoress was named one of the 10 winners of the 1995 Lannan Literary Awards, the U.S. based prize for writers of poetry, fiction and nonfiction in the English language. The award is granted for the body of a writer's work, and not a single book. Morrissy received a cash prize and joined a small group of Irish writers that included Eavan Boland, Seamus Heaney and Derek Mahon who have won that prize.

MOURNERS The widow returns to the house And accepts the quiet room, The polished furniture. Her hands rest in her lap. She will soon find something to do With her hands again. She says His name aloud in the room. ---- The one whose shoulder aches >From the weight of his sister's coffin Has turned his back to the wind To light a cigarette. Flame hollows his skull; Wind rips the smoke from his hands. ---- The man whose wife is lying Between the four tall candles Waits for the women to leave, Then climbs the stairs again To quench the candles, one By one. Then he sits all night In the dark room beside her bed. ---- For the grieving are as numerous as the blades Of the long reeds that bend in every wind, Surviving, though their hollow roots hold sand. As sorrow leaves us, so wind dies in the reeds. -- James J. McAuley, b. 1936 Dublin "Mourners" from "Requiem," in memory of his mother, Maureen McAuley, d. July 1969.

FATHER-IN-LAW While your widow clatters water into a kettle You lie in peace in your southern grave -- A sea captain who died at sea, almost. Lost voyager, what would you think of me, Husband of your fair daughter but impractical? You stare from the mantelpiece, a curious ghost In your peaked cap, as we sit down to tea. The bungalows still signal to the sea, Rain wanders the golf-course as in your day, The river still flows past the distillery. And a watery sun shines on Portballintrae. I think we would have a lot in common -- Alcohol and the love of one woman Certainly; but I failed the eyesight test When I tried for the Merchant Navy, And lapsed into this lyric lunacy. When you lost you balance like Li Po. They found unfinished poems in your sea-chest. -- Derek Mahon (born Belfast 1941)

Forgot one title -- "The Colonial Silversmith," by Henry J. Kauffman. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jean Rice" <jeanrice@cet.com> To: <IrelandGenWeb-L@rootsweb.com>; <IRELAND-L@rootsweb.com> Cc: <GillisHL@aol.com> Sent: Tuesday, October 08, 2002 8:54 PM Subject: Fw: Silversmiths & Goldsmiths > Found some books for researching silversmiths & goldsmiths, etc. > > 1. "English Goldsmiths and Their Marks," Charles Jackson, (747 pgs), with > info. on silversmiths including those in Ireland - very, very comprehensive, > even includes the names of parents and their masters for whom they worked! > > 2. "Handbook of American Silver and Pewter Marks," F. Jordan Thorn. > > 3. "Early American Silver for the Cautious Collector," Martha Gandy Fales. > > 4. "Identifying Antique Silver," Lydia Darbyshire. > > 5. "Old English Plate," Wilfred J. Cripps. > > 6. "Sotheby's Concise Encyclopedia of Silver," ed. Charles Truman. > > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "Jean Rice" <jeanrice@cet.com>

Found some books for researching silversmiths & goldsmiths, etc. 1. "English Goldsmiths and Their Marks," Charles Jackson, (747 pgs), with info. on silversmiths including those in Ireland - very, very comprehensive, even includes the names of parents and their masters for whom they worked! 2. "Handbook of American Silver and Pewter Marks," F. Jordan Thorn. 3. "Early American Silver for the Cautious Collector," Martha Gandy Fales. 4. "Identifying Antique Silver," Lydia Darbyshire. 5. "Old English Plate," Wilfred J. Cripps. 6. "Sotheby's Concise Encyclopedia of Silver," ed. Charles Truman. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Jean Rice" <jeanrice@cet.com> > Last summer I posted a little note from an article about silversmiths to the list and I did receive a few replies from list members. I don't have any additional information for this researcher (Lee Gillis) but thought someone else might. I don't believe he/she is a subscriber, may have been browsing list archives. I guess I would suggest a "Google search," but I wanted to see if anyone else had any other particular knowledge on this subject or suggestions. > > ----- Original Message ----- > From: GillisHL@aol.com > To: jeanrice@cet.com > Sent: Tuesday, October 08, 2002 8:08 AM > Subject: Silversmiths in Belfast Ireland 1780 - 1790s > > > Dear Ms Rice > > I read your email article "[Ireland] Was your ancestor a silversmith" dated 9 Aug 2002. I am hoping that you may help me or point me into the right direction. > > My 4th great grandfather, William Holliday (Silversmith and Class cutter) owned and operated a silversmiths shop in Belfast, Ireland in the 1760-1790s time frame. > > Also his son-in-law (my 3rd great grandfather) William Gillis was a silversmith > employed in William Holliday's shop. > > William Holliday and family immigrated to the Philadelphia, Pa area in the 1780s and his son-in-law William Gillis and family immigrated to the USA in about 1793 or 1794, > settling in the Winchester, Virginia and Baltimore, Maryland areas and finally in Clarksburg, Virginia (now West Va) in 1798. > > My question is how do I go about locating these families in Belfast? Would they have registered Silversmith's makers marks? William was allegedly trained as a silversmith in England (he was born in Scotland). > > Thank you, > > Lee Gillis >

Last summer I posted a little note from an article about silversmiths to the list and I did receive a few replies from list members. I don't have any additional information for this researcher (Lee Gillis) but thought someone else might. I don't believe he/she is a subscriber, may have been browsing list archives. I guess I would suggest a "Google search," but I wanted to see if anyone else had any other particular knowledge on this subject or suggestions. ----- Original Message ----- From: GillisHL@aol.com To: jeanrice@cet.com Sent: Tuesday, October 08, 2002 8:08 AM Subject: Silversmiths in Belfast Ireland 1780 - 1790s Dear Ms Rice I read your email article "[Ireland] Was your ancestor a silversmith" dated 9 Aug 2002. I am hoping that you may help me or point me into the right direction. My 4th great grandfather, William Holliday (Silversmith and Class cutter) owned and operated a silversmiths shop in Belfast, Ireland in the 1760-1790s time frame. Also his son-in-law (my 3rd great grandfather) William Gillis was a silversmith employed in William Holliday's shop. William Holliday and family immigrated to the Philadelphia, Pa area in the 1780s and his son-in-law William Gillis and family immigrated to the USA in about 1793 or 1794, settling in the Winchester, Virginia and Baltimore, Maryland areas and finally in Clarksburg, Virginia (now West Va) in 1798. My question is how do I go about locating these families in Belfast? Would they have registered Silversmith's makers marks? William was allegedly trained as a silversmith in England (he was born in Scotland). Thank you, Lee Gillis

ALONG THE CLADDAGH There were lovely ladies along the Claddagh All taking the air by each garden tree, All taking air in the quiet evening, And none so lovely as my lady. Then I stepped beside her most entertaining, Making fine talk on the rounded sea, "But ah," she said, "you I cannot marry, For a bold Spanish man said bravely to me: "Oh be my lady, and in Limerick laces Your delicate ways shall airly pass, With quiet feet in your blue pampooties And guinea hens on the daisied grass." -- F. R. Higgins: "The Spanish Man" (1896-1941) The Claddagh is the district lying across the river from Spanish Arch. It was the old Irish town outside the Norman walls, and until recent times was a picturesque fishing village of thatched cottages and narrow alleyways. The Claddagh Ring remains in popular use. Richard JOYCE, a Galway goldsmith who made a chalice which is in Westminster Cathedral, is credited with being the earliest Galway maker of this distinctive item. The design of two hands clasping a heart surmounted by a crown symbolizes trust or plighted troth. It is medieval or earlier in origin but it became closely associated with the Claddagh fishing village where it was used as both a bethrothal and wedding ring. On betrothal the ring was worn with the heart towards the nail and on marriage the crown was nearest the nail. King Henry VIII's Decree for Galway, 1536: "That every inhabitant within our said town endeavoured themselves to speak English, and to use themselves after the English fashion; and specially that you, and everyone of you do put forth your children to school to learn to speak English; and that you fail not to fulfil this our commandments, as you tender our favour, and will avoid our indignation and high displeasure." The Irish language survived, however, and in 1820, a Galway historian wrote: "In the West of Ireland it is a custom rather general amongst the lower orders that females who cannot speak English are not allowed to wear ribbons in their caps. Hence a stranger, on entering a fair or market town, may in general, by this mark, distinguish those women who can speak English from those who cannot. Amongst the Claddagh community this distinction seems to have been scrupulously adhered to." -- Excerpts, "Ireland of the Welcomes"

We must all have had the frustration of finding a probable ancestral grave and being unable to decipher the inscription on the tombstone, due to erosion of the stone, overgrowth with lichen or whatever. Does anyone have a non-destructive solution to enhancing the readability of inscriptions? I feel that chemical or abrasive cleaning does irreversible damage, particularly to softer stones. Perhaps there are photographic lighting tricks that could help. Any ideas? Eddie

Ships in 1849 built of wood, propelled by sails, were guided by only the most rudimentary navigational tools. The first barometer was not invented until 1844 and another ten years passed before Admiral FITZROY devised a method to predict storms and forecast the weather. Although Samuel MORSE, had developed the dot-and-dash code by 1838, and the electric telegraph had been invented in 1846, sailing ships were not equipped with anything so sophisticated and were unable to send out SOS signals until much later. Even assuming that passengers and crew could survive the immediate impact with icebergs and the freezing waters, the only hope for rescue would lay in a chance encounter with another ship, for there were no radios to send out distress calls. Proximity to land was often gauged by watching the flight of birds and the flotsam floating in the water and courses could be altered by the prevailing winds and weather. Four ships are known to have gone down after hitting the ice in 1849, per Edward Laxton, in his book "The Famine Ships" (1997), and a large number of emigrants lost their lives, either drowned or were crushed by the ice. One amazing rescue was recorded involving a very small, Irish-owned ship, the "Hannah," a 175-ton brig wrecked on the 26th day of a voyage from Newry, in Ulster (Co. Down). Their ship went aground on the leading edge of the iceberg in darkness at four in the morning. Captain SHAW and the first and second mates, expecting the ship to capsize instantly, apparently abandoned their passengers, seized a lifeboat and made their escape. In fact, 40 minutes elapsed before the ship sank, allowing many passengers and crew to clamber onto the ice! They huddled together clad only in their night-shirts for over 15 hours until miraculously, a ship appeared and the captain of the "Nicaragua" made an inspired rescue mission. Over 129 were saved and conveyed to safety,! eventually reaching Canada. Many had suffered severe frostbite. For his part in the rescue, Captain MARSHALL of the "Nicaragua" was awarded 43 pounds 13 shillings. The incident was reported in LLoyd's of London, where shipping movements around the world are collated, and several newspapers covered the dramatic rescue. The "ILN" reported that "the emigrants chiefly consisted of agricultural labourers and their wives and children, that upon impact their "their screams for help rent the air and it was with difficulty that the remainder of the crew could induce the frantic creature to comprehend the only chance left of saving their lives." It further stated - "Fortunately, the ice was firm under the ship's bows and the seamen convincing them to its security, many got on.... Men, women and children, with nothing on but their night attire, were scrambling over the mass of ice. Many of the poor creatures slipped between the huge masses and were either crushed to death or met with a watery grave. The last to leave the wreck were some of the! crew who contrived to save a small portion of spirits and a few blankets...The seamen who were among them humanely gave up what covering they had to the women, some of whom had been shockingly wounded and bruised. Thus were they exposed the whole of that day until five o'clock in the afternoon, when a vessel hove in sight and bore down to the edge of the field of ice. It proved to be the barque "Nicaragua," also bound for Quebec, under Captain Marshall.... In the course of two hours he and his crew succeeded in getting ahold of about 50 of the poor creatures and placing them on board his vessel. The remainder stood crouched together in another part of the ice some distance off, inaccessible from the position of the ship. Captain Marshall had all sails clewed up and got a rope fastened to a piece of ice, and with the long-boat pushed off with his men to the spot. After considerable difficulty he succeeded in getting to the edge, where they remained huddled together. T! he whole were saved." It was later estimated that a total 50-60 had perished. "As soon as he succeeded in getting all on board, the ship was got underway and proceeded in the direction of Cape Ray. Every comfort that his means afforded was placed at the sufferers' disposal. The next day, meeting the barque "Broom," of Glasgow, 27 of the poor creatures were transferred to that vessel; and in the course of the following day 49 of the survivors were placed on three other vessels. The "Nicaragua" reached Quebec on the 10th of last month (May). The fate of the master and the others who took to the life-boat and abandoned the emigrants, is not known." A later issue revealed that the master and part of the crew of the "Hannah" who left when the ship was floundering with 200 passengers, were "picked up four days after the melancholy event and landed in Quebec." Though the editor called for the deserters to be charged, they apparently escaped unpunished as no official record exists of any disciplinary action, per Mr. Laxton.

TO A FAITHLESS LOVER To you, holding in spent hands all seasons' memories, Bush and briar, thorn and thistle and tree, I send my love all wrapped and sealed With the tense, white paper of my sentiment. Crying in the various nights of muffled rain (O live lead lash on the window-sill) For you are frozen and alien from my side, I send my freshness and my ardour. To you, folding on hard palms all seasons' memories, Gorse and foxglove, berry and subtle, humming bee, I post my love all crumbled and sealed With the gum of lips you stealing stormed to starve. -- Robert GREACEN (born 1920) Only child, born in Derry, Presbyterian mother, moved to Belfast and spent part of his childhood with relations in Monaghan.

CYCLING TO DUBLIN Pulling the dead sun's weight through County Meath, We cycled through the knotted glass of afternoon, Aware of the bright fog in the narrow slot of breath, And the cycles' rhyming, coughing croon. "O hurry to Dublin, to Dublin's fair city, Where colleens, fair colleens are ever so pretty, O linger no longer in lumbering languour, Gallop the miles, the straight-backed miles without number." We were the Northmen, hard with hoarded words on tongue, Diven down by home disgust to the broad lands and rich talk, To the country of poets and pubs and cow-dung Spouting and sprouting from every stalk... "O hurry to Dublin, to Dublin's fair city, Where colleens, fair colleens are ever so pretty, O linger no longer in lumbering languor, Gallop the miles, the straight-backed miles without number." -- Robert Greacen (born 1920)

Hi here are two very good websites for gravestone information. The second one contains the information you need. http://www.savinggraves.com/ Seems to me saving graves and genealogy go hand in hand. From the website: "Saving Graves, the world's leading website dedicated to the protection, restoration, and preservation of endangered cemeteries worldwide, is a completely free-access online resource that provides to its visitors a wide assortment of preservation information and records. It's primary goal is to promote and emphasize the use of the Internet as a means to provide protection of human burial sites from unauthorized and unwarranted disturbance, by man or nature." Here's a website for The Association of Gravestone Studies http://www.gravestonestudies.org/ From the website: "...answers to basic questions about gravemarkers, such as, "Gravestone Rubbing Do's and Don'ts", "Tools and Materials for Gravestone Cleaning Projects", and "Symbolism on Gravemarkers". Our members have many areas of study or specialization and we strive to assist the new member in finding the information they seek in an efficient manner." Best, dianne ----- Original Message ----- From: "Eddie Parsons" <eddiep@onetel.net.uk> To: <IrelandGenWeb-L@rootsweb.com> Sent: Monday, October 07, 2002 11:16 AM Subject: [IGW] Deciphering inscriptions on tombstones >. Does anyone have a > non-destructive solution to enhancing the readability of inscriptions?> > > ==== IrelandGenWeb Mailing List ==== > To contact the list administrator, please send an email to admin-irelandgenweb@rootsweb.com > >

NORTHERN IRELAND -- The song below came out of comparing the Derry that Phil Coulter grew up in and the Derry that was emerging in 1995. Writing "The Town I Loved So Well," helped Phil come to terms with the trauma all around him. Coulter's words and melody gave voice to the contradiction of pain and resilence, fatalism, and hope and the kind of rueful defiance that marked the people of the North at that time. Coulter, who has played in Carnegie Hall concerts, said, "Derry people have a great sense of Derryness, a great sense of pride in their town. We never really had that naked sectarian hatred that Belfast had. It was softer. Though we had some pretty dark hours, I'm not saying we had it easy, but the kind of mindless savagery found in other places was always missing in Derry. I lived in an area where there only three Catholic families. The kids I played with in the street would have been Protestant. So on the 12th of July, I was gathering up the wood for their bonfire. And then on the 15th of August would be the big Catholic ritual, and we'd be gathering in another part of the neighborhood, for that bonfire. My parents never instilled any feelings of bitterness. When you come over the bridge from the waterside to the cityside, turn left up Abercorn road. The big building on the end of the bridge was the Henderson Shirt Factory. That's where the shirt factory horne came in "The Town I Loved So well." A horn went off at ten to eight to let the girls working there know they should be getting in. Another horn would sound at eight 'clock when they were supposed to start work. I would see all the girls scurring down to the shirt factories to work because the ten to eight hooter was the one that would wake us at home. My mother didn't work there but most guys' mums would have worked in the shirt factory or their sisters or aunts. Most of my classmates at St. Columb's College had someone who worked there. John Hume, Brian Friel, Seamus Heaney, and Seamus Deane all emerged from that one place over a 10-year period. Those who don't know Derry think that it was some kind of elite school. It was the only school. St. Columb's was our awakening. We passed exams and went on to university, that was a first. The people of Northern Ireland are very special. They have a great resilence that has allowed them to live through some very dark hours. Even in my own crew, I always have a Northern Protestant because they're great people, great workers, very diligent, and very reliable. You can't exclude them from any scenario. They are very much a part of what makes Northern Ireland. I can understand the fears of decent, ordinary, God-fearing Protestants in the North. They feel the ground is shifting so fast. You cannot disregard those people. They are good people, they are the people that make Northern Ireland what it is. I do a reading called "The Man From God Knows Where" in my set. The story comes from the 1798 Rebellion. The whole monologue is about one of the United Irishmen, a group formed largely by Northern Presbyterians." Here is the song Phil wrote in 1995: THE TOWN I LOVED SO WELL In my memory, I will always see The town that I have loved so well. Where our school played ball by the gas-yard wall, And we laughed through the smoke and the smell. Going home in the rain, running up the dark lane, past the Jail and down behind the fountain. Those were happy days, in so many, many ways. In the town I loved so well. In the early morning the shirt factory horn Called women from the Creggan, the Moor and the Bog While the men on the dole played a mother's role Fed the children, and then walked the dog. And when times got tough, there was just about enough And they saw it through without complaining: For deep inside was a burning pride In the town I loved so well. There was music there in the Derry air Like a language that we all could understand; I remember the day that I earned my first pay When I played in a small pick-up band. There I spent my youth, and to tell you the truth I was sad to leave it all behind me: For I'd learned about life, and I'd found a wife In the town I loved so well. But when I've returned, how my eyes have burned To see how a town could be brought to its knees; by the armoured cars and the bombed-out bars And the gas that hangs onto every breeze. Now the army's installed by that old gas yard wall And the damned barbed wire gets higher and higher With their tanks and guns, oh my God, what have they done To the town I loved so well. Now the music's gone but they carry on For their spirit's been bruised, never broken. They will not forget, but their hearts are set On tomorrow and PEACE once again. For what's done is done, and what's won is won; And what's lost is lost and gone forever: I can only pray for a bright, brand new day In the town I loved so well. -- Excerpt, "Irish America" magazine

OLD HOUSES I love old houses for their smells, their must and dust and mildew and for what they've been to people I will never know. The character of caulked-up cracks means more to me than plastered walls and pretty paper, walls that play the neighbors' music when the radio I love has gone to sleep. The faces of the old are like old houses every line's a highway from the past. And so I love old houses and the faces that sit rocking on their sagging porches. -- Rod Marvin McKuen, b. 1933 Oakland, CA, author of "Finding My Father," (1976), world-famous poet and songwriter.