SNIPPET: Many youths under 18 enlisted as soldiers during the American Civil War by claiming to be a few years older than they were, but Johnny CLEM entered the ranks before he was 10. There was no minimum age for musicians, and he joined the 22nd Michigan Infantry as a drummer, campaigning with the regiment in Tennessee and seeing battle at Shiloh, Perryville, and Stones River. He was a "bright, cheery child," his sister recalled and "soon made his way into the affections of officers and soldiers." Johnny became the Union's darling when the press touted his exploits at Chickamauga. (1863). By one account, he used a sawed-off musket cut down to size for him to shoot a Confederate officer who came at him shouting: "Surrender, you little Yankee devil!" For his valor, he was awarded sergeant's stripes and a silver medal. After the war, he remained in the army for a half century. When he retired at 65 as a major general, he was the last man active in the armed forces who had served in the Civil War. Yet CLEM was still a youngster compared to the oldest soldier known to have taken part in that conflict -- Curtis KING, who enlisted in the 37th Iowa Infantry in 1862 at the age of 80. -- Excerpt, w/photo of handsome, little Johnny CLEM in uniform found in "Eyewitness To The Civil War," Kagan & Hyslop (2006).

SNIPPET: A reader of Dublin's "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine shared her thoughts on the Emerald Isle in the Nov-Dec 2007 issue: Joanne OLSON, Idaho Falls, ID: "When I sit down and try to recall one outstanding memory from the trip my husband and I took to Ireland, I find it very difficult to think of just one. We experienced Ireland in a less traditional and more personal way. We rented a 30-foot boat and with my husband as captain and me as the deck-hand, we set out to explore the areas around Lough Derg and the River Shannon. Five years on, this week spent leisurely cruising still stays fresh and clear in my mind. With no set agenda or time schedule, we were able to enjoy each town. We chose a different marina to stay in every night. With no other transportation than the boat, we did a lot of walking and exploring each area where we moored. The afternoons and evenings were full of new and interesting things to see. The old churches and castle ruins gave us an insight into the history of the area. It was humbling to find headstones in the graveyards with dates far older than the U.S.A. The warmth and friendliness of the people we met along the way made us feel welcome. We enjoyed many hearty bowls of soup, soda bread and great conversations in local pubs. All the pictures I had seen of old churches, ruins, green fields and grazing sheep became real. They were all and more than I had dreamed about .... "

I have updated the County Down birth section of my website, and the best of luck in your research. Raymond, (in a freezing cold Scotland) http://www.raymondscountydownwebsite.com

SNIPPET: Like so many aspects of Irish history and culture, to find the origin of the shamrock as a significant feature of Irish life one must go back to pre-Christian times. Ancient Celts believed the shamrock, or white clover, possessed curative powers and could foretell the weather (its leaves were said to arch upward before a storm). The word shamrock derives from the Irish word Seamr g, or "summer plant." The shamrock's significance in modern times, however, comes from its association with St. Patrick. Legend has it (and all we have is legend since St. Patrick never mentioned the shamrock in his writings) that he used the shamrock to explain the mystery of the Trinity to pagan Celts by comparing the three leaves with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Doubtless, some missionary, if not Patrick himself, used this unique teaching tool in the Christianization of Ireland in the fifth and sixth centuries. The practice of wearing shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day dates as far back as the sixteenth century, and perhaps earlier. The shamrocks became a symbol of Irish national identity in the nineteenth century when Nationalists adopted it as their symbol. Ironically, so too did Ulster Unionists for a time. -- Excerpt, "E. T. O'Donnell, "1001 Things Everyone Should Know About Irish American History," Broadway Books/NY (2002).

THE HOME PLACE A little west along the road, on higher ground Beyond the Big Blue River, you can see the house And barns cut farmer-spare against the cobalt sky, A mile away across the level stand of beans. A century hasn't changed the home place much at all. The windows still throw back the light, defiant as A young girl's eyes when there's a secret to be kept, Here she was born, on this two hundred acre range, Where first her grandfather farmed and now her son, Where planting could be dry and easy; calving, wet And hard. How many suppers had she warmed again Because machinery quit out in the field before The work was done? Perhaps the peaceful kitchen knows The hunger laid to rest within its walls, all built, She says, her eyebrows up, with timbers taken when They tore the casket factory down. Folks made do then. She sold the house some years ago, but kept the land Because one doesn't trade her soul. Now living in The neighbouring woods behind, she's near enogh to hear The massive iron bell out on the shed. How rare it is To find a life so rooted to a single place, Just like the rugged elm beside the house today, Surviving prairie wind and summer lightning. She's Among the few whose vision of the world improves By standing still, by watching every harvest come. And if, in leaner years, she walked these rooms at night To battle with her ghosts, she must have cast them out. Her blessing shines. This is a house that's fit for life. -- With permission of author, Thomas Alan ORR, from "Hammers in the Fog," Restoration Press, Indianapolis, IN (1995). Tom's Scots-Irish ancestors have a connection to No. Ireland and to Orrs Island, Casco Bay, off the coast of ME

SNIPPET: Irish fought both for the Union and for the Confederacy during the American Civil War. Interestingly, the Shirley House of Vicksburg, Mississippi was built in the late 1830s by owner attorney Nicholas GRAY, an Irish immigrant. The house was originally named 'Wexford Lodge' after his native Wexford County in Ireland. By 1849 the property was sold to Ben JOHNSON. Sold again in 1851, it was home to Judge James and Adeline SHIRLEY during the American Civil War. Alice and her brothers kept their Union sympathies to themselves when the state seceded, although the family enjoyed a comfortable Southern lifestyle and owned several slaves. During the Siege of Vicksburg, the building was the most conspicuous structure on the battlefield and soldiers in blue and gray referred to it simply as "The White House". Federal troops later besieged their home, Wexford Lodge, which fell within the front lines. With their home riddled with shot and shell, the family was forced to seek refuge in a cave in a nearby ravine. They soon moved into an abandoned slave cabin behind Federal lines. The house was later converted by the Union army as a smallpox hospital. In 1864 it was abandoned altogether. The building was so badly damaged during the siege that the family never occupied its rooms again. Young Alice SHIRLEY left a first-hand account of some of her experiences, published in "Eyewitness To The Civil War, The Complete History From Secession To Reconstruction," Kagan & Hyslop (2006): "The Confederates, knowing that they must soon retreat behind their fortifications at Vicksburg, began their preparations by destroying what they could outside, and burned all the houses in the vicinity; but my mother's persistent refusal to go out of hers, and her determination to prevent its destruction, delayed its being set on fire until the Federals made their appearance on the hills to the east of us. The poor fellow who was appointed to do the work, while holding the ball of blazing cotton to the corner of the house, was struck by a bullet of the pursuing vanguard, and crept away under the shelter of some planks, where he died alone. His body was found the next day and was buried under the corner of the house. My mother and the old home were greeted with a shower of bullets and shell from the advancing army. One shot passed her as she stood in an open doorway. A piece of shell struck the top of a chimney and tore it away, and passing into an upper room, shattered a bedstead. She thought rapidly; the thing to be done was to hang out a flag of truce, and quickly she secured a sheet to a broom handle, and sending it by our carriage driver to the upper front porch where it might be seen from a distance, it was soon waving a truce to the bullets. Now all was confusion and excitement. The great hosts advanced rapidly, and the house, the grounds, the road, and the woods behind were soon alive with Union soldiers, and that same afternoon the fighting began. Bullets came thick and fast, shells hissed and screamed through the air, cannon roared, the dead and dying were brought into the old home. War, terrible war, had come to our very hearthstone, and there my mother and brother remained for three days. The two house servants stayed with them. Household treasures were soon destroyed under the ruthless hand of the soldier. Daguerreotypes prized so highly by the family, letters, valuable papers, etc., etc., quickly disappeared. A dinner set of beautiful china which had been packed away in a box for safe keeping, was taken out, piece by piece, and smashed ... Choice books were carried off, furniture was destroyed, but through the kindness of some officers our trunks and the best of our furniture were saved; among these were the piano and melodeon."

I have updated the County Down births section of my website, and the best of luck in your research. Raymond http://www.raymondscountydownwebsite.com

SNIPPET: Although the 144,000 Irish who served in the Union army are better known, 30,000 Irish also served the Confederacy. For the two war-weary armies facing each other in Virginia, it was a lull between storms. After their explosive encounter at Fredericksburg in December (1862), they had settled into winter camps on either side of the Rappahannock River. Men welcomed the respite, but inactivity could be as hard on troops as marching and fighting. The imminent threat of death in battle faded, only to be replaced by the perils of disease, malnutrition, and exposure. "That winter was probably the most dreary and miserable we had," recalled Captain Alexander HASKELL of LEE's Army of Northern Virginia. "The suffering from cold, hunger, and nakedness was intense and widespread. There were thousands on duty in the perpetual snow and mud, without shoes, often no blanket, hardly any overcoats, and many without coats, nothing often but a ragged homespun shirt." Shortages of food and clothing grew worse for Confederates as Federals occupied their territory, tightened the blockade, and took control of the Mississippi. Families sent aid to soldiers in camp, HASKELL noted, "but much of this was lost by defective transportation, and for the poor fellows from across the Mississippi nothing could come." LEE himself lived frugally that winter, as HASKELL discovered when he visited the general's headquarters in early 1863. "He chanced to come out just as I was taking my leave," HASKELL wrote, "and as it was the hour for dinner he politely insisted on sharing the meal." If the young captain expected a feast, he was mistaken. As they entered the tent, he related, "there was before us a crude board table with camp stools around it; on it a beautiful glass dish of 'Virginia Pickles' sent by some hospitable Virginia lady; the balance of the dinner was a plate of corn bread, or 'pones,' and a very small piece of boiled bacon." After saying grace, LEE explained to his guests that his Irish servant Mike had "harder work than we have in Quarters, and must be fed." He then cut a thick slice for Mike, HASKELL noted, laid it aside and offered each of his guests and himself a portion that was "but a fraction of Mike's." This was typical of LEE, whose consideration for men of all ranks helped earn him the lasting devotion of his troops in circumstances that would have demoralized other armies. Soldiers called him "Marse Robert" and felt he had their best interests at heart even during the hardest campaigns. "The boys never cheer him," wrote Corporal Edmund PATTERSON, "but pull off their hats and worship." For all his personal charms, LEE could not have commanded such loyalty without success in battle. Much as he did as a host by stretching that "very small piece of boiled bacon" as far as possible, he made the most of limited resources as a commander by repeatedly defeating armies larger and better equipped than his own. He couldn't hope to perform such feats much longer, however, if his army grew much weaker. Losses to desertion and disease were mounting, and his men were so malnourished he was not sure how much more he could ask of them. "I fear they will be unable to endure the hardships of the approaching campaign," he wrote in late March. "Symptoms of scurvy are appearing among them, and, to supply the place of vegetables, each regiment is directed to send a daily detail to gather sassafras buds, wild onions, garlic, lamb's quarter, and poke sprouts." For now, the poor condition of his troops and the numerical superiority of the Federals across the river forced him to remain on the defensive. But if his opponents happened to squander their advantage and leave him an opening, he would attack with everything he had. He could not afford to play a waiting game. One more winter of hardship and stalemate such as this and his army might be driven back to Richmond and ultimate defeat. However, if the year ended with Federals in retreat and the Union demoralized, Northern voters might reject Abraham LINCOLN in 1864 in favor of a Democrat willing to end the war on terms favorable to the South. If his army prevailed, LEE wrote to his wife, "there will be a great change in public opinion at the North. The Republicans will be destroyed." ... -- Excerpt, "Eyewitness To The Civil War, The Complete History From Secession To Reconstruction," Neil Kagan & Stephen G. Hyslop, National Geographic Book, Washington D.C. (2006).

Dear Irish friends, My son needs help with a class paper he is writing. Can anyone please translate the following into Gaelic? He wants as close an approximation as possible, it does not need to be "literal" "Light transcends the darkness" Thanks in advance for the help! Mary

SNIPPET: Walt WHITMAN described his impressions of the American Civil War in many fine poems. As you know, thousands of Irishmen fought on both sides of the conflict: AS TOILSOME I WANDER'D VIRGINIA'S WOODS As toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods. To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas autumn,) I mark'd at the foot of a tree the grave of a soldier; Mortally wounded he and buried on the retreat, (easily all could I understand.) The halt of a mid-day hour, when up! no time to lose - yet this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, "Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade." Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of life, Yet at times through changeful season and scene, abrupt, alone, or in the crowded street, Comes before me the unknown soldier's grave, comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, "Bold, cautious, true, and my loving comrade." -- 1865 THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION Entitled "The Veteran's Vision" in "Drum-Taps" While my wife at my side lies slumbering, and the wars are over long, And my head on the pillow rests at home, and the vacant midnight passes, And through the stillness, through the dark, I hear, just hear, the breath of my infant, There in the room as I wake from sleep this vision presses upon me; The engagement opens there and then in fantasy unreal, The skirmishers begin, they crawl cautiously ahead, I hear the irregular snap! snap! I hear the sounds of different missiles, the short t-h-t! t-h-t! of the rifle-balls, I see the shells exploding leaving small white clouds, I hear the great shells shrieking as they pass, The grape like the hum and whirr of wind through the trees, (tumultuous now the contest rages,) All the scenes at the batteries rise in detail before me again, The crashing and smoking, the pride of the men in their pieces, The chief-gunner ranges and sights his piece and selects a fuse of the right time, After firing I see him lean aside and look eagerly off to note the effect; Elsewhere I hear the cry of a regiment charging, (the young colonel leads himself this time with brandish'd sword.) I see the gaps cut by the enemy's volleys, (quickly fill'd up, no delay.) I breathe the suffocating smoke, then the flat clouds hover low concealing all; Now a strange lull for a few seconds, not a shot fired on either side, Then resumed the chaos louder than ever, with eager calls and orders of officers, While from some distant part of the field the wind wafts to my ears a shout of applause, (some special success), And ever the sound of the cannon far or near (rousing even in dreams a devilish exultation and all the old mad joy in the depths of my soul,) And ever the hastening of infantry shifting positions, batteries, cavalry, moving hither and thither, (The falling, dying, I heed not, the wounded dripping and red I heed not, some to the rear are hobbling.) Grime, heat, rush, aides-de-camp galloping by or on a full run, With the patter of small arms, the warning s-s-t of the rifles, (these in my vision I hear or see.) And bombs bursting in air, and at night the vari-color'd rockets. -- 1865

THE FARMER'S SON Where'er are scattered the Irish nation, In foreign lands or on Irish ground, In every calling and rank and station Good men and true will always be found: But 'midst their masses And ranks and classes, When noble work must be dared and done, No heart's more ready, No hand's more steady Than the heart and hand of a farmer's son. His homely garb has not fashion's graces, But it wraps a frame that is lithe and strong; His brawny hand may show labour's traces, But 'tis honest toil that does no man wrong. For generous greeting, For social meeting, For genial mirth or for harmless fun, 'Midst high or low men, 'Midst friend or foemen, Oh where's the match for a farmer's son? -- T. D. Sullivan

Boston Daily Globe Boston, MA 15 April 1883 EVICTED FARMERS The British steamship Nestorian, Captain James of the Allan line, arrived at the docks of the Hossac Tunnel Dock and Elevator Company at Charlestown at 7:30 o'clock last evening, having left Glasgow on March 28 and Galway on March 31. The arrival of this steamer is of peculiar interest, from the fact that it contained the first lot of Irish immigrants sent to this country at the expense of the English government. About 650 passengers, some of whom paid for their own passage, came by the Nestorian, and several more steamer loads will arrive soon. ... The majority of the passengers came from Galway county, the others from Mayo, Derry and Donegal counties. Those from Galway - most of them - had been evicted from their homes, and during the past winter have lived as they could, finding shelter in tents and living upon what little could be obtained. Porridge, made of Indian meal, was the principal article of food, and happy were the poor unfortunates if they got that once a day. They were sent over at the expense of the British government, which has adopted this method of supporting its poor, throwing them empty handed into another country.

SCRABBLE in memoriam Tom Delaney, archaeologist Bare flags. Pump water. Winter-evening cold. Our backs might never warm up but our faces Burned from the hearth-blaze and the hot whiskeys. It felt remembered even then, an old Rightness half-imagined or foretold. As green sticks hissed and spat into the ashes And whatever rampaged out there couldn't reach us, Firelit, shuttered, slated and stone-walled. Year after year, our game of Scrabble: love Taken for granted like any other word That was chanced on and allowed within the rules. So "scrabble" let it be. Intransitive. Meaning to scratch or rake at something hard. Which is what he hears. Our scraping, clinking tools. -- Seamus Heaney, from "Glanmore Revisited."

SNIPPET: Per author Donal MacCARRON, a lifelong military history and aviation enthusiast, modern aviation memorials ("markers") have been increasingly evident in the last 20+ years. These take various forms, often a plaque or tablet on a wall commemorating stories of triumph or tragedy related to the years of the Second World War. Over 200 warplanes - British, American, Canadian and German - force-landed or crashed in neutral Ireland during the years of combat, the majority being Allied aircraft. The reasons for their unexpected arrival were usually navigational problems, lack of fuel or engine problems. Tragedy occurred when night-time and fog enshrouded high ground before the development of airborne radar. By today's standards, navigational aids then were quite primitive; often the stars, when they could be seen , were the only guides. The greatest number of incidents, by far, involved lucky escapes, thanks to expert piloting and the grace of God. In those years, few people in Ireland had even seen an aeroplane, and certainly not at close quarters; the various air displays of the 1930s were centered on cities and major towns and flights by the tiny Irish Air Corps would rarely disturb the rural calm. The spectacle of a huge heavily-armed four-engine war machine coming like a bolt out of the blue and performing dramatic maneuvers to effect a landing were the talk of the town and villages. The crew of the United States "Travelin' Trollop" landed safely on morning in 1943 on the golden beach of Lahinch, "T'aint-a-Bird" made a soft landfall near Clonakilty in Co. Cork. At Co. Roscommon, a B.25 "Mitchell" made a superb landing. One humorous story involves the east coast beach area in the vicinity of Cos. Meath & Louth. One morning in 1944 members of a religious order of nuns were alarmed to see a war-weary American "Marauder" aircraft swoop down with its wheels up and come to a dramatic halt in front of their residence. On its nose, and in addition to its name "Range Runner" and the tally of its bombing operations, was a dramatic depiction of a grizzly bear chasing an unclad young lady! Glad to be safe, the airmen sat sunning themselves on a wing while the hospitable nuns dispensed mugs of cocoa, all the while discreetly averting their eyes from the artwork. Per Mr. MacCARRON - As of early 1998, no commemorative tablet had been installed, but no doubt the holy sisters offered up some prayers for the hardy lads who went on to fly and fight another day. If the subject interests you, you can check out MacCARRON's books and/or refer to his article (with old and recent photos and names of some of the airmen involved) in the March-April 1998 issue of "Ireland of the Welcomes" magazine published in Dublin. Perhaps there is information on the web about any ongoing reunions.

________________________________ From: Jean R. <jeanrice@cet.com> To: IRISH-AMERICAN-L@rootsweb.com Sent: Wednesday, November 12, 2008 5:34:18 PM Subject: [IRISH-AMER] "Frosty Morning" -- Leitrim-born Mary GUCKIAN (contemp.) FROSTY MORNING Plants stiff with the frost, One solitary rose Edged with delicate lace, The night air has tightened The earth, Prevented birth, But the heat of the sun Starts to melt The shimmering specs Of delicacy away. All is peaceful on the grass, The ice is cracking on the river, Ducks swim out to stretch Their feathery bodies After the cold night On the side of the river's bank. Winter time reminds me of Wet coats in the hall, Smoky kitchen to heat us, Large logs sizzling as they exert Their wetness on the hearth stone, Cut fresh from the garden, They fill the flagged floor With warmth. -- Mary Guckian, born Kiltoghert, Co. Leitrim. She has had poems published in various magazines in Ireland and abroad and her own volumes are "Perfume of the Soil" and "Road to Gowel" (Swan Press/Dublin). She has lived and worked in Sydney, Tasmania, the Channel Islands and Oxford. ====Irish American Mailing List===== Add/check your surname to the Irish-American mailing list Surname Registry at: http://www.connorsgenealogy.com/IrishAmerican/ ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to IRISH-AMERICAN-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

FROSTY MORNING Plants stiff with the frost, One solitary rose Edged with delicate lace, The night air has tightened The earth, Prevented birth, But the heat of the sun Starts to melt The shimmering specs Of delicacy away. All is peaceful on the grass, The ice is cracking on the river, Ducks swim out to stretch Their feathery bodies After the cold night On the side of the river's bank. Winter time reminds me of Wet coats in the hall, Smoky kitchen to heat us, Large logs sizzling as they exert Their wetness on the hearth stone, Cut fresh from the garden, They fill the flagged floor With warmth. -- Mary Guckian, born Kiltoghert, Co. Leitrim. She has had poems published in various magazines in Ireland and abroad and her own volumes are "Perfume of the Soil" and "Road to Gowel" (Swan Press/Dublin). She has lived and worked in Sydney, Tasmania, the Channel Islands and Oxford.

*20th August 1775.* *Andrew Morris of Micilannashea in the County of Wicklow, yeoman, Francis Morris of Whiterock in the County of Wicklow, yeoman, Samuel Morris of Crossin in the County of Wicklow, yeoman, Thomas Morris late of Hacketstown in the County of Carlow, yeoman, William Wilson and Thomas Mathers both late of Hacketstown, Carlow, yeomen, with many other evil disposed Persons and Disturbers of the Peace of our said Lord the King, whose Names the Jurors aforesaid are ignorant of, on the seventeenth Day of August in the fifteenth Year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord George the Third, by the Grace of God of Great-Britian, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, and so forth, with Force and Arms, that is to say , with Swords, Sticks, and so forth at Hacketstown in the said County of Carlow did riotously, routously and unlawfully assemble and associate themselves together, and the said Persons being then and there so riotously, routously and unlawfully assembled and associated, in and upon one William Presley a true and faithful subject of our Lord the King in the peace of God and of our said Lord the King then and there being did make an Assault and him then and there did beat wound and ill treat so that his life was greatly despaired of and other wrongs to him then and there did Contrary to the peace of our said Lord the King his Crown and Dignity. *

Irish fought on both sides of the American Civil War. I found this gem in a little softbound book of verse by the Penn Publishing Co., Philadelphia (1903). The poem, author unknown, first appeared in the "New York Sun." BLUE AND GRAY 'Twas a sight to be long remembered, That I saw on the cars one day As the train was flying southward, In the latter part of May. It was only two aged women Who met by chance that day, One had eyes of loveliest blue, The other, the sweetest gray. "Where go you?" said the blue-eyed one To her with the eyes of gray, "I'm going to visit my husband's grave, In the Southland far away." "Was he a soldier? "the blue-eyed asked, As she gazed in the eyes of gray; And half unconsciously she grasped Her hand in a loving way. The eyes of gray lit up with pride; "Yes, he was a soldier true; He fell at the battle of Shiloh," "Oh! there's where mine fell, too." And then they clasped each other and wept, The eyes of blue and gray Mingled their flood of sympathy As the train sped on its way. "What uniform did your "soldier" wear?" "My soldier wore the blue." "Ah," said the other, "mine wore the gray." "No matter, they both were true." "Yes, they were true, our loved and lost, True till their dying day. And it matters not what they wore on earth, They are clothed in white to-day." And when we came to the station A very small town by the way, The men all stood bareheaded As the two went on their way, They walked up the street together, Like children hand in hand, Out on the country highway Where the old church used to stand. And on and on till they reached the place Where their soldiers brave were laid; They they kissed and wept o'er each grave alike, And together knelt down and prayed; Then each told the other about the past, How they lived with their children dear, And agreed, while God would spare their lives, To meet there once a year. And then they walked back to the station, These soldiers' widows in tears, Helped by each other's sympathy, To bear their burden of years, Back to the West they traveled, To their children, kind and true; One with eyes of the sweetest gray, The other, the loveliest blue -- Author unknown, "New York Sun" circa 1900

SNIPPET: When WWI broke out in the summer of 1914, Irish Americans joined the rest of America in opposing U. S. involvement. For most Americans, this was simply an expression of traditional American isolationism. For Irish Americans, however, there were additional reasons, most especially the long-standing belief that whatever was bad for England had to be good for Ireland. At the very least they balked at the idea of Irish American soldiers being sent to die on behalf of His Majesty's empire. They rejected John REDMOND's decision to pledge Irish support to the British war effort as a means to gain home rule after the war. Irish American opposition reached its apex in the months following the 1916 Easter Rising and summary executions of the leaders. Still, when the U. S. declared war on Germany in April 1917, Irish Americans set aside their nationalist ideals and cast their support for the American cause. On April 7, 1917, as soon as he heard that America had declared war on Germany, famed songwriter George Michael COHAN set about writing a patriotic song that would soon become the WWI anthem, "Over There." Finished in a single day, the song proved wildly popular, selling millions of copies of sheet music and records. President Woodrow WILSON declared that it inspired American manhood. In 1940, COHAN received a Congressional Medal of Honor for "Over There" and "You're a Grand Ole Flag." COHAN was born July 3, 1878, in Providence, RI, but all his life he considered July 4th to be his birthday. A multi-talented actor, dancer, lyricist, playwright, and producer, COHAN was once called "the best thing the Irish ever gave America." A descendant of Co. Cork emigrants, he began his stage career as an infant in the family vaudeville act, the Four Cohans, which became a Broadway success at the turn of the century. Before he was 40, he was a leading producer and had created a popular form of musical plays and starred in many of his own productions. COHAN played a large role in helping to elevate vaudeville with its crude Irish stereotyping into a more respectable Broadway entertainment, and in a career spanning nearly 40 years, he had a hand in 80 Broadway shows, for which he acted, wrote, composed, or otherwise contributed. Popular songs include "Give My Regards to Broadway" and "Yankee Doodle Boy." He was also highly successful in his role as the father in Eugene O'NEILL's play, "Ah, Wilderness," and as Franklin D. Roosevelt in the musical, "I'd Rather Be Right." Actor James CAGNEY portrayed COHAN's life in the 1942 Academy Award-winning motion picture, "Yankee Doodle Dandy," and he was also the subject of the 1968 Broadway musical "George M."

Theresa cahill, daughter of Bernard. Marries a Mr. Rumsey Last Known records in Bengal India 1868 marries to John Moon. Any info on Irish born Theresa or Bernard please ? Thank you.