Claddagh Patrick Daley
1917 - PENNSYLVANIA
On a clear day, you would almost think you had died and gone to heaven. The green, rolling hills, the lush foliage, and the azure sky was a most peaceful setting to say the least—a veritable paradise that any angel could call home—that is, until this serene, beautiful countryside is shaken out of its slumber by the ever occurring boom rattling the windows, shaking the ground, and frightening any soul around who is not aware that this is a coal mining town.
It was an early spring morning with the smell of fresh lilies and irises creeping up the hillside. Jim O’Bannon was just about to drop the plunger when Paddy Mahoney came running down the hill to the entrance of the mine. “Dynamite Jim, Dynamite Jim, you must come quickly. The time is here, don’t you know. Hurry, hurry, hurry—you mustn’t miss it.”
“What in Christ’s name are ye talkin’ about, Paddy? Calm down and make sense, ye blubberin’ fool. Can’t you see I’m about to open another vein?”
“But Dynamite, you must come. It’s Maggie. You know she wants you there.”
“What is it? What is wrong with my Maggie, Paddy?”
“You stupid Mick, I’m tryin’ to tell ye, the baby is coming. It’ll be here any minute, and you’re gonna miss it if you don’t git down there right now.”
“Oh my God, Paddy, I completely forgot that this could be the day. Why in God’s name those two have to have another child is beyond me. They already have three good-looking lads. If it’s a girl they’re lookin’ for, they can try forever. It just doesn’t happen in this family except for every now and then. I’ve got to git goin’. Watch my dynamite for me now, won’t you? Don’t let anyone near the mine. I’ll be back as soon as my grandchild is out and wailin’.”
“Good luck, Seamus,” Paddy called after him.
Glory be to God, thought Dynamite Jim. He hasn’t called me by my given name in years. He knows I hate the name Seamus. If he wasn’t my best friend, I’d go back right now and give him what for and then blacken an eye or two. My name is Jim, Dynamite Jim, the best damn dynamiter in the county, and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to call me Jim.
It was a few minutes after seven and a ten-minute walk up the hill and through the town to the house Jim had built for his daughter Maggie and her husband Michael Doyle. As he reached the top step, he heard the wonderful sound of the first scream of a newborn child.
He ran into the parlor, almost knocking over his wife Sarah.
“Jim, Jim, it’s another boy, and he’s beautiful. Maggie did just fine.”
“Oh Christ, Sarah, do ye think they’ll stop tryin’ for a girl? They can’t afford to raise the three young ones they have, and now they have a fourth mouth to feed.”
“Jim, you know God will provide. Now stop being that way, for the love of God, you weren’t concerned when you got me pregnant eight times.”
“That was different, Sarah. I’ve got me a good business and have always provided for you and the brood. What does Michael have? He’s unemployed half of the time, spending his every waking hour in the gin mills getting stinking drunk. How is he going to provide, now will ye tell me?”
“Oh Jim, I know it’s been tough on these two young people, but maybe if you could get Michael a job down in the mines . . . ”
“Sarah, you know he doesn’t like the mines—it scares the bejesus out of him—and he is so skittery that the men wouldn’t go down with him anyway.”
“Won’t you try to find him something? He’s a good boy at heart, and he is your favorite daughter’s husband.”
“Oh all right. Maybe there might be something at the factory. Next time I go down for a shipment of sticks, I’ll see what I can do. Now, let’s stop all this and go see my new grandson.”
Sarah entered the room first just as the midwife was about to leave. Her job finished, she had to get back to her own five little ones down in the valley.
“Maggie, your father is here. He arrived just as the baby was born.”
“Oh Daddy, look here, another boy, and isn’t he beautiful? We’re going to call him Owen Sean Doyle. Isn’t that a great name, Daddy?”
“Well luv, you are my favorite, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but do you really like the name Owen? Why not Kevin or Timothy or even Sean, and give him Owen as a middle name.”
“Daddy, it was Michael’s idea, and I don’t want to go against my husband. Owen Sean Doyle it will be, and I’m sure you will like it just as much as you will love this child.”
As Maggie convinced her father, Jim noticed Michael standing off to the left. He hadn’t even seen him when he’d first arrived. Probably keeping back in the woodwork, Jim thought, because he’s been into the sauce already or hung over from the night before. Not to embarrass his daughter, Jim acknowledged the new father by saying, “Well Michael, you did it again. Congratulations on your son.”
“Thank you, Dynamite Jim. No girl again, but another healthy boy, and a strong looking one at that.”
“Daddy,” Maggie asked, “you will like the name, won’t you?”
“That I will, luv. I’m proud of all my grandchildren, and I love every one of them, especially your three—oops, excuse me, luv, I mean four. Now, let me hold that good-looking Irishman by the name of Owen. Oh, you are a gift from heaven, with your little pug nose and your rosy cheeks. Just wait until your brothers see you. By the way, Sarah, where are Joseph, Thomas, and little Seamus?”
“Mrs. Mahoney, Paddy’s mum, is taking the boys for a few days, but we can go and see them later if you like.”
“It’ll have to be much later. I must get back to the mine. I left Paddy holding the plunger. God help us all if he’s alone too long; he might well blow up the whole town. I must leave now, luv,” Jim said, as he kissed his red-haired daughter on the forehead. “You take care of my new grandson, you hear, and take good care of yourself as well. These boys of yours are going to need you for a lot of years to come. Bye now, I must be on my way.”
“Goodbye, Daddy, and be careful please.”
“They don’t call me Dynamite Jim for no reason, luv. No one knows the sticks like I do. I’m the most careful man you are ever going to know. Now you get to sleep.”
Out of the room, Jim bent to kiss Sarah goodbye and said, “Now you take care, and let me know first thing if there’s a problem.”
“Oh Jim, what problem could there be? We have a fine, healthy new baby and a strong, healthy daughter. Everything will be fine.”
“Okay Sarah, I’ll see you later, and we can go over to the Mahoney’s and see the little ones.”
“Jim, we can’t go until about 7 o’clock.”
“Well now, why is that, my lovely lass? Don’t you know the boys will be ready for bed by that time?”
“I can’t help it, Jim. The brew won’t be ready until then, and I don’t dare leave it unwatched.”
“For Christ’s sake, Sarah. You and that goddamn still. Why in God’s name you feel you have to make that moonshine shit is beyond me.”
“Oh come on now, Jim. You know that it brings in a good income for the winter months when the mines don’t bring in so much. It’s going to pay off big for me some day.”
“Jesus, I don’t believe it. I’m married to a moonshiner who thinks she’s going to be a millionaire some day. I’ll tell you, my darlin’, if the revenue agents catch you and lock you up, I won’t be in to visit you.”
“Seamus O’Bannon, don’t you talk to me like that. You know better!”
“Sarah, my luv, I won’t talk to you like that if you don’t call me Seamus. Deal?”
Sarah smiled. “Deal.”
“Thank you. Now, I must be gettin’ back before Paddy hurts himself.”
The magnificent beauty of the valley brought a deep melancholy to Jim O’Bannon as he made his return trip down to the mine. The emerald green hills shining in their brilliance from the onset of spring prompted memories of another valley across the ocean where Seamus Brendan O’Bannon had spent the first twenty years of his life. County Cork in so many ways was a mirror image of this home he had come to thirty years ago.
Thousands of his Irish countrymen had immigrated to America during the 1800s and had found employment building the railroads, but in the latter part of the century, a small group had settled in this Pennsylvania valley that reminded them so much of home. There wasn’t any railroad building taking place here, and like every other part of the country, if you were Irish and you needed a job, then you need not apply. The men from the Emerald Isle were a hearty lot though and afraid of nothing, including hard labor. The perfect disposition for the dangerous, tedious, and methodical work of mining for coal. This valley was rich in the mineral that was needed so desperately as the primary fuel throughout the country. The steel companies across the northeast and midwest craved the black ore for their production, and the mines operated twenty-four hours a day trying to keep up with the demand.
AMERICA 1886
Arriving in America with his young wife Sarah and their newborn son, Jim headed directly for this green valley he had heard so much about back in Cork. Apprehensive about starting a new life without a job, his fears were soon put to rest, as he found that the mining companies were hiring every Irishman that applied—and twelve hours a day in the mines was not unusual.
“So you want to be a slate picker, do you now?” The foreman at the mine was a tower of a man, and Jim, even at six-foot had to strain his neck to look up into the big blue eyes staring down at him.
“Yes, sir. I guess if you mean working in the mines, then I sure do want to be a—what did you call it?”
“A slate picker, son. That’s what they call us. You’ll learn soon enough that there’s a lot more slate in these hills than coal, and we have to blast our way through the damn stuff to get to the real McCoy.
“Name’s Mullaney, Francis X. Mullaney, but if you work for me it’ll be Mr. Mullaney, and if you’re lucky enough to last a few years, then you can call me what my friends do.”
“And what is that, Mr. Mullaney?” Jim asked.
“Just plain old X, son, just X. Now do you have a name yourself?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Mullaney. The name’s Seamus O’Bannon, but everyone calls me Jim, as I’m not crazy about the name Seamus.”
“Okay, Jim. Let’s see about getting you some gear and putting you to work.”
“That’s great, Mr. Mullaney. Believe me, you won’t be sorry.”
Jim thought for a moment, I wonder what I’m gettin’ myself into here. “By the way, what is it I’ll be doin’?”
Mullaney looked at the newcomer with the typical baby face and said, “You’re going to pick slate, lad, just like everyone else down there. You’re going to pick the bloody slate and hopefully pick away till you get to the coal.”
“But I thought you said that you blast away at the slate until you find the coal. Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“We do blast with dynamite, we do, but we still have to pick away, and right now we are short a dynamiter, so until he can be replaced, we will just dig and pick.”
“Mr. Mullaney, now how would one become a dynamiter? Is that what you called him?”
“Well now, Seamus—I’m sorry, I mean Jim—it takes some training and a lot of guts. We don’t have too many Irishmen down here that want to take the chance of handling the sticks. Do I suspect a note of interest here now, Jim?”
“Well, Mr. Mullaney, I did have some experience back in Northern Ireland—if I was asked, I would certainly deny it—but I can assure you that I do know a little about the sticks, as you call them.”
“Well now, Seamus, uhh Jim—I’ve got to stop doing that—just give me a few weeks; you see, I happen to like the name Seamus, t’was the name of my favorite uncle back in Kerry.
“Now Jim, you may just have gotten yourself a better lot than pickin’, if you can prove to me that you can indeed open a few veins in this old hole down here. Let’s get some sticks and see what you can do, but let me give you some advice.”
“What is that, Mr. Mullaney?”
“Jim, if you want to lead a clean, safe life without any trouble, then don’t open that big Irish mouth to nobody other than me about where you learned to use dynamite, do you understand now?”
“Yes, Mr. Mullaney, I believe I understand you perfectly.”
Mullaney nodded.]
“Okay, now let’s get to work before the day is gone.”
“Just one more thing, Mr. Mullaney,” Jim said, trailing after the big man eagerly.
“What is it, Jim?”
“Well, sir, I was wondering, just what does the job of dynamiter pay, and is it as good a wage as the slate pickers make?”
Mullaney let out a belly laugh and just stared at this young, naive native of the place called a little bit of heaven. “Now Jim O’Bannon, don’t you worry about the pay, lad. If you can handle the sticks like you said, then your compensation will be at least 50% more than the slate pickers.”
Jim swallowed hard and did his best to conceal his surprise. Could this be true that he could make that much money just for blowing up part of the landscape?
“One other little piece of advice, Jim. If you want to make friends with the miners down here, don’t call them slate pickers. The ignorant ones that don’t know shit about coal mining refer to us by that name, but we are coal miners, and we don’t take to calling each other by that derogatory description, don’t you know?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mullaney. I’ll be sure to wipe that term right out of my vocabulary.”
Mullaney looked at him and let out another belly laugh. Could it be I’ve found myself a smart Irishman? he thought. Who the hell said they’re all dumb?
At the mine office, Mullaney showed Jim to the supply counter, and as they walked up, a redheaded Irishman popped his head up from behind a stack of crates. Mullaney turned to the young man and said, “Paddy Mahoney, say hello to our newest employee, Mr. Seamus O’Bannon—but don’t call him Seamus, or you’ll answer to me. He goes by the name of Jim.”
Paddy stuck his hand over the counter to Jim and with a wide grin said, “Nice to meet cha, Jim.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Paddy,” Jim replied.
“Did you just arrive, Jim? I don’t believe I’ve seen you around the valley,” Paddy said.
“Me and Sarah, that’s my wife, we just got in a few days ago from New York City, after traveling over on the boat.”
“All right, Mahoney, you two can get acquainted later.” Mullaney was getting impatient and wanted to see just how much this new arrival had learned up there in the north, obviously blowing up some Orangemen. “Come on now, Paddy. Get us a crate of sticks, some wire, and the plunger, and we’ll be off.”
Paddy Mahoney stared for a few seconds before he finally spoke. “Mr. Mullaney, you don’t mean to tell me that you’re goin’ to let the rookie handle dynamite?”
“Jesus Christ, Mahoney. Who died and left you in charge? I am the General Foreman, am I not?”
“Well yes, sir, Mr. Mullaney, but—”
“Don’t but me, you little shit. Just get me the supplies or you’ll be washin’ dishes down at Mrs. O’Neills boarding house, do you hear me now?”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir. You know I’m not tellin’ ye how to do your job, oh no, sir. I would never do that, sir.”
Mahoney was probably the most nervous and easily intimidated employee at the mines, which was why he worked in the company storage facility. Paddy was scared of his own shadow, and he wouldn’t be caught dead in the mines. He also had the old Irish flaw of not knowing when to keep his mouth shut, and he decided very quickly that he must extricate his size seven foot from his mouth at this point or his boss would have him fired for insubordination.
“Here is everything you asked for, Mr. Mullaney, and please don’t take offense at anything I might have said.”
“There was no might about it, Mahoney. You said it, and you’d be best to keep your thoughts to yourself next time—and your big mouth shut. Now, we’re off to get some work done, and we’ll try not to blow up your bloody building while we’re about it.”
Paddy turned to Jim and said, “I meant no offense, don’t you know, Jim. Come by after the shift, and I’ll buy you a brew down at the Dublin Inn.”
“I’d like that, Paddy.”
“See you later then,” Paddy said, and Jim and Mullaney were out the door.
It didn’t take long for Jim to prove his worth as a dynamiter to Francis X. Mullaney. It was immediately clear to the veteran miner that this young, baby faced lad from County Cork did in fact know how to handle the dangerous explosive. Thank God for me, Mullaney thought, because that last guy probably won’t be coming back after losing his arm just this morning.
There is an undeniable respect that the coal miners developed over many years for the man that handles the sticks, and youth did not get in the way in the case of Jim O’Bannon when it came to gaining their trust. The first payday for Jim was memorable because it was that night at the Dublin Inn, as his co-workers introduced him around to the rest of the patrons, that he was affectionately given the nickname “Dynamite Jim.”
Jim was elated that he had been accepted in this community so quickly. All the anxiety of leaving home and traveling to a new country, having to make new friends and start a new life for his family, was soon forgotten. He was Dynamite Jim O’Bannon now and living in the greatest country in the world, with all the opportunity a man could ask for. Life was just grand. He had a great job, a beautiful wife, and newfound friends.
He could never explain why the freckled face redhead known as Paddy Mahoney had become his best friend so quickly. They certainly did not have a lot in common. They didn’t come from the same county back home, so they couldn’t even relate to places they were both familiar with. Paddy was single; Jim was married with a family. Jim towered over Paddy in stature by at least six inches in height, and he was built like a railroader. Paddy was slight and looked like he might be blown away by a strong wind.
What Paddy did have was a great sense of humor, which made Jim laugh even at his worst moments, and they both loved to tip a few pints together, trading story after story down at the Dublin Inn.
Paddy was to Jim the little brother that he’d never had back in Cork. Boys were numerous in the O’Bannon clan, and Jim had dozens of male cousins to prove the fact, but all three of his brothers had been taken by the Cholera epidemic, and it was just him and his sister left when he traveled to America. Paddy was a good friend and constant companion. The relationship became what real brothers experience, the older, bigger brother always sticking up for the little guy, which Paddy needed so often when he would have too many brews and poke fun with his Irish wit at someone twice his size.
The first ten years in the new world produced five more children for Jim and Sarah, as she gave birth at about two-year intervals. Their firstborn, James, who had been born in Cork, was followed by Margaret, Brian, Joseph, Timothy, and Mary. All six children were blessed with good health and striking good looks. Maggie, however, was the favorite of her daddy, although he would never admit this to anyone but her and Sarah. Maggie’s hair was the color of an early fall chestnut, and she had the skin of a porcelain doll, perfect in every way possible with just a hint of a few freckles when she would stay in the sun for any length of time. Jim adored this little angel sent from God, and he would stare for hours and marvel at what a fantastic work of art God had performed. He would do anything in the world for his Maggie—all she had to do was ask her daddy.
The work at the mines never ceased, and the industry grew every year, affording Jim a good living, and the O’Bannon family did not want for too many of the good things in life. Jim built his own house, together with help from his friends at the mine, and before long, it was filled with laughter and good times. After a four-year rest, as she called it, Sarah had two more children, John and Matthew. With eight mouths to feed, even with good wages from the coal mines, Sarah decided that the cold, winter months were a little too lean, since the mines were slower then, and many weeks, there wasn’t any work for Jim.
AGGIE
A friend of Sarah’s, whom she had met on the boat coming over in ’86, had once shown her an old butter tub filled with cash—mostly coins. Sarah had been astonished, and she blurted out, “Mother of God, Aggie, where did you ever get all that money?” Without a second thought, Aggie replied, “It’s from the brew, don’t you know?”
Confused, Sarah said, “What do you mean ‘the brew,’ Aggie? I don’t understand.”
Aggie looked perplexed. “Oh come now, Sarah, you certainly know what brew is don’t you?”
“Well, Jim always says that he and Paddy are going to the Dublin for a few brews, and I assume he means the beer on tap down at the Inn.”
“Well Sarah, let me introduce you to a different brew,” said Aggie.
Reaching up into the cupboard, Aggie set down two tea cups, and then reached underneath the same cupboard for a Ball canning jar, which she sat on the table between her and Sarah.
“What in God’s name is that?” Sarah asked, as she looked at the jar filled with a clear liquid.
“Oh, silly, silly Sarah—have you never seen homemade brew in a jar?”
“I can’t say that I have. What are you going to do with it?”
“Well darlin’, you and I are goin’ to sample it, and if you like, I’ll even tell you how to make it.”
Sarah stared at the jar and said, “For heaven’s sake, why would I want to know how to make it, Aggie?”
“My, my, luv, you have been out of circulation these past fifteen years. Didn’t you tell me that you would like to supplement your income during the winter months, when Jim is not getting so much work down at the mine?”
“Well yes, I did, but what does homemade brew have to do with me and Jim?”
As Aggie poured some of the liquid into the two tea cups, she said, “Sarah, how much do you suppose I can sell this little jar for? I don’t mean the jar mind you, I mean the contents.”
“Well, I don’t know, Aggie. I don’t have a clue.”
“How about twenty-five cents per filling? Where do you think all those coins came from in that old butter tub?”
Aggie sighed. “My dear friend, let me tell you, if I waited for that good for nothin’ that I’m married to, to bring me home some wages instead of drinkin’ himself into a stupor down at the pub, I would starve.”
“I don’t understand, Aggie. Who buys this brew, as you call it, and where does it come from?”
“One question at a time, Sarah, but first, let’s have a little taste.” Aggie motioned for Sarah to lift her cup as she did the same, clinking the cups together in a toast. “Here’s to the brew and a tub full of coins for you.”
Sarah sipped the brew and gasped for breath as the liquid trickled down her throat. She felt like somebody had plunged a hot poker down into her stomach.
“It takes a few cups to get used to it, Sarah, but while you’re practicin’, try a little tea in with it. It makes it a little easier to go down.”
By this time, Sarah had regained her breathing and was able to gasp in a very hoarse voice, “How could you do this to me, Aggie? My throat is surely burned.”
“Oh, you’ll be all right, luv, and you might even get used to it, but even if you don’t, you can still make a nice profit from those that love the stuff. Now, let’s get to those questions you had. First of all, I believe you asked me who buys the brew. Well, the answer is just about everyone in the bloody town. Some of them have their own jars, and I just fill them, and those that don’t, then I sell them the jar as well.”
“But how do they get this horrible stuff from you, Aggie?”
“They simply come to the door, and I fill it up and take their coins, and if they can’t get out for some reason, then I have the boys deliver the jars for me.”
Sarah was horrified. “You have your young sons delivering homemade brew throughout the neighborhood, Aggie? What are you, crazy?”
“No, not crazy, Sarah, smart, and not just in the neighborhood, all over the town.”
“Oh my God, I don’t believe it.”
Aggie shook her head, exasperated that her friend was so impossibly naïve. “Believe it, luv. The profit’s there in the tub. Now what was the second question? Oh yes, where do I get it from. Well, come on down in the cellar with me, and I’ll show you where it comes from, since the only thing you seem to know is where babies come from.”
As they entered the cellar and Sarah’s eyes began to adjust to the poor lighting, there, in plain sight, was a still making the best tasting moonshine the valley people ever tasted. Sarah couldn’t believe her eyes, but there it was, gleaming like the shiny cookware in Aggie’s kitchen.
She was simultaneously shocked and afraid for her friend, with a dozen questions running through her head. “Aggie, don’t you know what you’re doing is illegal? You could go to jail if anyone found out.”
“Now, now, Sarah, my customers are not about to turn me in, and who would ever suspect that a hard working Irish housewife with five little ones running around is going to have a still in her cellar?”
“But Aggie, what if the revenue agents were to find out, then where would you be? Probably locked up. And your children, who would take care of them with Dennis spending his life in the gin mills?”
“Oh Sarah, you worry too much. I’ve been making this brew for almost four years now, and not once have I had a bit of trouble. Besides, luv, I’ve been extremely careful, and I don’t plan to make the brew for much longer.”
Sarah was perplexed and asked, “Why is it you won’t be making the brew?”
“Well luv, because we won’t be here much longer. Dennis can’t find work anywhere around town, what with his reputation for being drunk most of the time, so we have decided to move down to West Virginia. He thinks his chances of working down there in the mines will be better since he isn’t known in that area. Who knows, maybe he’ll change his ways, and as much as I hate his ways, I still love him; he is my husband, and I must go with him.”
Sarah felt very bad for her friend and thought, How lucky I am to have a good husband who has always provided for me and the children. Jim O’Bannon loved his drink just as much as the rest of them, but his family came before everything else. He would never do anything to endanger his job and put his loved ones in jeopardy.
A hint of a tear came to Aggie’s eye, and Sarah wondered what would ever become of this kind lady if Dennis continued on the same path in West Virginia.
“Aggie, what’s to become of the still and the brew? Do you plan on taking it with you?” Sarah asked.
“Well luv, I’m afraid that would be impossible. We plan to sell everything here and buy new when we get to West Virginia, but the still will not go with us.”
“You certainly can’t leave it in the cellar for the new owners, now can you, Aggie?”
“No Sarah, that I cannot or will not do, but I would be very willing to give it to you as my gift to my dear friend.”
“Oh my God, Aggie, I could never take it, and what would I ever do with it?”
“Well now, Sarah, just think about it for a minute. You need to supplement your income for the winter. You said it yourself, and I can teach you how to make the brew before I leave, and I can also give you the list of all my customers. I’ll tell them all that they now go to Sarah O’Bannon for the brew.”
“But Aggie, my husband would never allow it. I can hear him saying now, ‘Sarah, love of my life, have you gone daft?’ He would never agree to have a still on the property.”
“Sarah, you worry too much. What can he say once it’s there assembled and cookin’ away? We’ll get it moved and up and runnin’ while he’s off dynamitin’ and have a brew waitin’ for him when he gets home.”
“Aggie, it’s you I believe that’s daft. This is a crazy idea. I just couldn’t do it. Now I must be goin’. I’ve got a splittin’ headache, and I need to get dinner on the stove.”
“Just do me one thing,” Aggie asked.
“What is it?”
“Well luv, don’t say no yet. Give it a few days and think about it, and while you’re thinkin’, remember all the cash in that little tub upstairs. Let me know in a week what you decide.”
Sarah’s head was beating like a drum, and all she wanted to do was go home and lie down before starting supper for her brood. “Well all right, Aggie, I’ll think about it, but I must be goin’. I’ll talk to you in a few days.” As she started to climb the stairway, she turned to Aggie and said, “You know, Aggie, you’re a dear, dear friend, and I thank you for the offer, but please don’t be upset with me if the decision is not what you want.”
“Fair enough,” said Aggie. “Now be off with you, and get something for that headache. See you soon.”
The walk up the hill to the O’Bannon home was almost unbearable for poor Sarah. She thought to herself, If a little cup of that brew will do this to a person, it’s no wonder the whole town is not populated by alcoholics.
The truth of the matter, she thought, is that the Irish love their drink or two more than most. She remembered her father saying so many times back home, “God invented alcohol so the Irish wouldn’t take over the world.”
As she reached the top of the hill, Sarah stopped across the street from her home and stood for a few minutes, admiring this castle that her dear Jim had built for her. It was such a strong looking structure, the size of two normal houses in town, with just the right Victorian influence. Her favorite was the wrap around porch that stretched across the front and all the way down the right side to the rear of the building. What a wonderful home, she thought, and not one she would want to lose for making moonshine illegally.
Sarah sighed and crossed the street to the steps, and as she looked up at the entrance, there above the door was the ever-present plaque at its place of honor. It had been a gift to the O’Bannons from Paddy Mahoney upon completion of the home. It was made of mahogany by Paddy’s own hands, and etched into the hard wood was the inscription, “Cead Mile Failte,” the age-old Gaelic phrase that meant “One Hundred Thousand Welcomes.” What an appropriate gift, she thought, as she entered the foyer. The O’Bannon home was always filled with family and friends, and it was not unusual for someone to just drop in any time, day or night. It was a friendly place, and everyone was welcome. It was never given a second thought that they might be intruding on the privacy of the O’Bannons. It was just so natural to stop into Dynamite Jim and Sarah’s for a spot of tea, a taste of whiskey, or just good conversation, and the plaque above the door said it all.
Sarah rushed to the kitchen and started peeling potatoes, thinking, The children will be home from school soon. I must get the supper ready, and I hope this headache is gone before Jim arrives.
A heavy thud on the stairs, and the front door slamming, told Sarah that it must be later than she’d thought. “Darlin’, I’m home. Where are you now?”
“Oh Jim, I’m in the kitchen peeling the spuds.”
As Jim entered the spacious cooking area, he leaned over and kissed Sarah, then stepped back. “Sarah, your face is all flushed. Are you all right, luv?”
“Yes Jim, I’m fine, just a little bit of a headache,” she said, as she gave him a hug. “Sarah, are you sure you feel okay? You’re not pregnant again, are you?”
“Glory be no; just a headache. It’ll pass. Now why are you home so early?” she said, finally noting the time.
“Well luv, I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news for all of us.”
Sarah was puzzled by the grim tone of Jim’s voice, and a knot started in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t even begin to think what may be wrong. “What is it, Jim?”
“Sarah, we won’t be havin’ any income for a while, as the mining company has shut down the mines indefinitely.”
“Oh my,” Sarah said. “How can they do that?”
“Well luv, they can do whatever they damn well please, and that’s what they’re doin’. It seems there is a problem with natural gas seeping into the mine, and the danger to the men has forced a shutdown until the company can decide what to do. X tells me it may be as long as a month before we get started up again.” Jim sighed. “I don’t know how we will put food on the table if it lasts that long, but if it lasts more than ten days, I just might head south and see if I can pick up some short term dynamitin’ with the West Virginia firm.”
“Well Jim, now don’t you worry, we’ll make out somehow. We always do, now don’t we?”
“You know, Sarah darlin’, that’s why I love you so much; you never let anything upset you, even when it looks the darkest.”
Sarah threw her arms around her husband and said, “I love you, too, Jim O’Bannon, and we will survive. You wait and see.”
The throbbing headache reminded Sarah that there could be a partial answer to this small crisis in their lives. What am I thinking? she said to herself. Dynamite Jim would have a catfit.
A week went by, and the crisis at the mine did not seem to be coming to a conclusion. The mining company had called in experts from two other locations to evaluate the situation, and it was just too dangerous for anyone to enter the mine without a gas mask. The source of the gas must be found and a solution arrived at or the mine would have to be shut down permanently. The majority of the families in town depended on the coal mine for their livelihood. The economic impact could be devastating.
By the end of the first week, Jim was getting very anxious to find an alternative before his family went hungry. He had gotten a few nights tending bar at the Dublin, but what he brought home was a pittance compared to his normal paycheck. Besides, the tips at the Dublin were few and far between, as the business had fallen off. With nobody in town working, who could afford to frequent the pubs?
Two more days, he thought to himself. I’ll give it two more, and if there isn’t any progress, I’m off to West Virginia. On the tenth day, Jim gently woke Sarah from a sound sleep.
“Jim, what time is it? The sun isn’t even up yet. Why are you dressed?”
Jim looked down at this beautiful creature, who seemed to have always been a part of his whole self, and thought, How lucky can a man be to have such a wonderful wife? Never had he ever heard her complain about anything in her life. She would scorn women who nagged their husbands, and he thought she herself would never say a cross word.
“Sarah, luv, I have to go down to West Virginia, and I’ve got to leave now because I’ve got me transportation.”
“But Jim, why so sudden, and in the middle of the night?”
“Come now, luv, it is not the middle of the night. The sun will be up soon, and you know that my plan was to go down there if we didn’t get the mine open by now.”
Sarah struggled to wake up, drawing herself to a seated position on the bed.
“Yes, yes I know all that, but I just didn’t expect to be rustled awake with this. I’m sorry, Jim, you know I support your decision, but I will worry about you until you get back.”
“Now luv,” Jim said, “you don’t be worrying about me. You know that everything will be fine, and I’ll come back as soon as the mine is open again.” He smiled.] “I’ve got me a ride in one of those new fangled automobiles, so I don’t have to take the train. Isn’t that great, Sarah?”
“An automobile? How in the world did you arrange that, Jim?”
“Well, X came by about an hour ago and said the general manager from the West Virginia mine was heading back down there this morning, and he was looking for a dynamiter. He just happens to have an auto, and he has offered to drive me down to the mine if I’ll take the job—temporarily of course.”
“Oh Jim, that’s wonderful, but please be careful. I don’t trust those new motor driven carriages.”
Jim laughed and said, “But luv, this is the twentieth century; we must get used to it with all these new things.”
Sarah nodded, struggling against the tears she could feel welling.
“I must be going now, luv. The man is leaving in about twenty minutes.”
Sarah was all at once sad and happy at the same time, knowing that her husband was leaving for who knew how long, and happy for him that he would have a job and be able to provide, which was his primary goal in life.
“Please be careful, my darling,” Sarah said, as she leaned over to kiss him. She held on to him for what seemed to Jim to be an eternity. “I love you, Dynamite Jim—don’t you forget that.”
“I love you, too, Sarah, my luv, forever and ever, till death do us part. I will be careful, and you take care of the little ones and kiss them all for me. Now, I must be off.”
“Sarah grabbed his arm. “Just hold me one more time, Jim. I’m going to miss you so much.”
Five minutes later, Jim was gone from the house, and Sarah sat on the side of the bed and cried for almost an hour until the sun finally came up and the children started to stir. “Please God, keep him safe and bring him back to us,” Sarah prayed.
SARAH
Sarah Feeney O’Bannon, the only daughter of Jeremiah and Margaret Feeney, was a joy to behold as a child, and being the only child, the Feeneys doted over her and spoiled her at every opportunity. Sarah was so bright and grown up beyond her years that all of the spoiling had no effect on her. She was a blessing to her parents—even-tempered, polite, hard working, and a fantastic personality. She absolutely adored her mother, and often thought, Isn’t it a shame that not everyone can have a mother like Mum?
The Feeneys were the perfect family. There was never a harsh word in the household of Jeremiah Feeney, and they worked as a team in everything they did from morning till night, toiling over their meager farm and tending the small herd of sheep. To Sarah, life could not be happier for her, until the day before her twelfth birthday.
Sarah was so excited that day on the way home from school, knowing that her mother was putting the finishing touches on the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was to be a birthday gift, but of course, Sarah had to see it before the big day because of the fittings. She didn’t care to be surprised, just to have such a beautiful creation to show off to her friends.
There is no better seamstress than my mum, she thought. I can’t wait to see it finished. Today is the last fitting, and tomorrow, I can wear it for my friends when they come for tea and cakes.
As Sarah turned off the road into the path leading up to the farmhouse, she froze in her tracks. A cold chill raced up her spine, and she had a terrible, overpowering sense of urgency. At the end of the path, parked in front of the front door to the house, was the doctor’s black carriage. Sarah started to run as fast as her body would allow, but her legs felt like jelly, and she feared the worst.
Jeremiah met her at the door with a strained look on his face, and he had tears streaming down his cheeks. “Daddy, Daddy, what is it? Why is the doctor here? Where is Mum?” She tried to push her way past her father, and Jeremiah held her and said, “Sarah, you mustn’t go in right now, luv. We need to talk first.”
“Daddy,” she screamed, “what do you mean talk? I want to see Mum. What is wrong? Please tell me what is wrong.”
“Sarah, luv, please sit down here on this bench. Then you can go inside.”
Sarah reluctantly sat down and waited for what was her greatest fear in life. Please God, she thought and prayed, please let my mum be okay.
As her father put his arm around her shoulder, he very gently pulled his daughter’s head to his chest and said, “Sarah, you must be strong, luv, for yourself and for me.”
“Daddy, what is it? Is my mum dead?”
Jeremiah choked on his words as he said, “Yes, my beautiful Sarah. Your mum had a stroke, and the doctor could not help her. She did not suffer in the least way, so we have that to be thankful for, and she is up in heaven with the angels.”
Sarah began to sob uncontrollably. Her whole world had just ended in the small space of five minutes. Sarah’s mum, together with her father, was her universe. As she cried, she thought, I will never be the same again; life is going to be miserable. I want to die, too. How could God do this to me and Daddy? We have no one else but Mum.
By the time Sarah was sixteen, she had already grown to be an attractive young woman. Losing her mother had matured her very quickly. She became not only the loving daughter but the surrogate wife as well, as she cooked, washed, and cleaned for her father. Often, she thought to herself, Life is so unfair. Why, she wondered, did she not have any brothers or sisters—probably some medical reason, although she had never asked her mum.
Sarah made up her mind right then that if she ever got married, she was going to have a house full of children, and they were going to be good friends as well as siblings. She wanted a big house full of love and family and friends. She never wanted to be this lonely again—ever again.
On her seventeenth birthday, Sarah was invited down to Cork for a party that was being given by her cousin, and she was so excited, since she had never been to a formal party before. The party was beyond her expectations, but the highlight of the evening was when the most handsome man she had ever seen walked into the room, and Sarah thought to herself, This is the man I’m going to marry.
Sarah’s cousin was tugging at her arm, trying to shake her out of her dazed state. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Peggy, were you saying something?”
“I certainly was, Sarah Feeney. I was asking if you would like to be introduced to that very handsome devil that you can’t seem to take your eyes off.”
Sarah finally came out of her mesmerized state and said, “Well of course I would. Who is he, Peggy?”
“Come with me, dear cousin,” Peggy said, as she led Sarah across the room.
Sarah was terrified as her cousin literally dragged her over to this very tall, very good-looking Irishman. “Jim O’Bannon, I would like you to meet my cousin from up north, Sarah Feeney.”
Jim O’Bannon leaned forward and took Sarah’s hand. “Miss Feeney, I am pleased to make your acquaintance; there is no prettier colleen at this party.”
Sarah just about melted right through the floor, but when she finally regained her composure, she said, “Mr. O’Bannon, it is a pleasure to meet you, too, and thank you for your charming compliment.”
The music began, and Jim leaned forward again, almost like a bow, and said, “Miss Feeney, may I have this dance with you?”
It was love at first sight for both Sarah and Jim. He could not believe that this beautiful young woman was only seventeen years old. She looks very mature, he thought, but only one year younger than myself. How lucky for me! When I first saw her, I knew immediately that I was in love.
As he held Sarah close to him, and they swirled across the dance floor, he thought, What am I, daft? I’ve just met the girl, and here I am thinking of marriage.
Sarah Feeney and Jim O’Bannon were married two years later at St. Timothy’s Church in Cork by Father Kevin O’Bannon, the groom’s cousin. As they left the church, Sarah thought to herself, All of my dreams will come true. I’ve just married the most handsome, most wonderful man in Ireland, and we are going to have a big family full of love and children and live happily ever after.
One year later, with their two-month-old son, Jim and Sarah sailed for America and the Port of New York. Life was grand.
Sarah watched the sunbeam stream into the bedroom window, and it reminded her of that day that seemed so long ago, but at the same time, it was almost like yesterday. Where have the years gone? she thought. That sunbeam sparkling off the torch of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor almost gave the illusion of the torch burning brightly in the morning’s light.
It had been seventeen years since that day, and Sarah’s hopes and plans had just about gone the way she’d always said they would. The O’Bannon family was happy, healthy, and numbered ten—Sarah, Jim, and eight beautiful children.
James would be eighteen this year and could not wait to finish school so he could travel to New York City, which he considered the only place in the world to “make your mark,” he would say. “Mum, it’s not like you’ll never see me again. Believe me, I will miss everyone, but I must find out what New York is like.”
Margaret, or Maggie, as her father had called her since birth, was sixteen and developing into a beautiful woman, just as her mother had at that age. Maggie had her father’s hair coloring but her mother’s fine features, which gave her a patrician look about her. She had no plans to leave her home after school like her brother. Maggie was a caring individual, who was the first to arrive in an emergency, and she was the top student in her class and so had first choice at volunteering at the local hospital.
She loved the time she spent with the patients, especially the older ones that didn’t have any family to visit or take care of them. Maggie kept a full schedule and was always involved in helping someone, but she never missed the most important time of day at the O’Bannon house—dinner.
Sarah allowed her children to think for themselves and be themselves and pursue whatever interests they had, but she always reminded them that family comes first above everything else. “You will never regret the time you spend with your parents and brothers and sisters,” she would tell them. “These will be the most important memories of your lives.”
As she watched the dust rise through the sunbeam, Sarah thought, My two oldest have certainly matured into a fine young man and woman; I only pray that the rest will follow in their footsteps.
Her daydreaming was interrupted by a knock at the door and a voice calling, “Mum, are you awake yet?”
“Yes, Maggie,” Sarah answered, “please come in.”
The door swung open and the auburn-haired beauty entered and gave her mother a big hug. “Good morning, Mum. Where is Daddy?”
“Well Maggie, it was too early to wake any of the children, but your daddy is gone off to West Virginia to take on temporary work as a dynamiter for the mine company down there.”
“But what about the mine here, Mum?” Maggie asked.
“Your daddy says the company hasn’t been able to find the solution to the gas problem, and it may be some time, so he wants to make sure we won’t starve.”
Maggie sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh Mum, you know we won’t starve. Daddy is overreacting.”
“Yes, luv, but we must support him in whatever he decides. Now go and get the little ones up and let’s keep a positive attitude about all this, so as we don’t upset the youngsters.”
“Okay Mum. I already started breakfast, so take your time, and I’ll get the kids dressed.”
She is so wonderful, Sarah thought, as she watched this lovely creature go about her chores with such a positive attitude. She will make someone a perfect wife and mother to his children one of these days.
Sarah quickly dressed and hurried down to the kitchen to find Maggie and Mary, who was half her sister’s age, serving breakfast to the O’Bannon clan. Everyone was talking at once, as was the usual routine at the table—everyone except for poor little Matthew, who was only two and didn’t say much; however, if he wanted something, you would certainly hear him from down the hill. He was such a cute, chubby little boy with a great disposition.
“Can I have your attention please, O’Bannon children,” Sarah almost yelled over the bedlam. Immediately, quiet filled the kitchen, and everyone stared at her expectantly. “I just wanted you all to know that your daddy is going to be gone for a few weeks to West Virginia to work in the mines down there until they can re-open our mine here.”
A dozen questions poured out all at once, and Sarah held up her hand and simply said, “Everything in the O’Bannon household will continue as before. We will not have your daddy here at suppertime or in the evening to visit with, but he will be back in a few weeks, and in the meantime, we will not starve—and let’s pray that the mine gets opened up soon.”
MAGGIE
With breakfast finished, the six older children were out the door and on their way to school. As was the usual custom, Maggie took charge of the younger ones, and like a mother hen, she made sure they got to the schoolhouse safely. As they walked the mile through the town, Maggie could not help thinking about her daddy, hoping that all would go well. She must leave the hospital early today, so that she could be home to help Mum with dinner and see to the little ones. Without daddy there, she thought, the babies would have no attention paid to them.
Maggie looked so forward to her time at the hospital. It gave her such a warm feeling of fulfillment, just knowing that the elderly patients had someone to attend to their needs. Not that she knew a lot about medicine, although her dream was to become a nurse someday. For now, she was determined to care for the sick the best way she knew how.
No job, no matter how mundane, was a great task for Maggie. Her teachers received glowing reports from Dr. O’Leary, Chief of Staff, on a regular basis, extolling the excellent attention that Maggie gave to his patients.
The Sisters of Charity, the religious order that founded and ran the hospital, were very fond of Maggie, and they prayed that someday this caring, intelligent young woman would find a vocation and join their convent. Sister Beatrice continually left pamphlets for Maggie, believing that she would eventually see the light and join the order. Entering a convent was the last thing on Maggie O’Bannon’s mind. Of course, she respected the nuns and believed they performed a tremendous service to the community, teaching and caring for the sick and poor, but Maggie could not see herself as a Sister of Charity.
Maggie adored her mother, and her goal in life was to be just like Sarah O’Bannon, a faithful, loving wife to the man of her dreams and the best mother in the world. The nursing career ranked third, and if God willed that to take place, it would be the best reward that Maggie could imagine.
The life of a married woman with children seemed so far off to Maggie at the age of sixteen.
My God, she thought, I don’t even have a beau, and I haven’t met one young man that I would even be slightly interested in. Boys in this town are mostly rogues, and they exude rudeness most of the time. I want a man who is kind and gentle, one who is polite to ladies and men alike, and of course, he must be very handsome, just like my daddy. With what’s available in this valley, that could take a very long time.
“Excuse me, Miss O’Bannon, but would you please answer the question? You appear to be off in never never land.”
Maggie was shaken out of her daydream, embarrassed that she hadn’t heard her teacher.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Abercrombie, I didn’t hear the question.”
“Well Miss O’Bannon, how could you possibly hear when you were not listening? Maybe you would like to share with the class what is so much more important than our history lesson.”
Maggie stuttered, “I, I was just thinking about my daddy. He left this morning for the mines down south, and I’m a little worried about him, that’s all.”
“Miss O’Bannon, your duty here is to learn about the Civil War, not sit and daydream. Now answer the question please.”
“Could you repeat the question, please?” Maggie asked. Just as Mrs. Abercrombie opened her mouth to speak, the school bell rang, announcing the end of class for the day.
“Margaret O’Bannon, stay here please. The rest of you can go. Class is over for today.”
When the room was empty, Mrs. Abercrombie turned to Maggie and said, “Margaret, is something bothering you? This isn’t like you to be non-attentive in my class.”
“No, ma’am, nothing is wrong, I just have a lot on my mind, and I promise this won’t happen again.”
“Margaret, if there is anything you want to talk about, will you please come to me? You are one of my best students, and I wouldn’t want to see your studies suffer now with only one year of school left.”
“I do appreciate your concern, Mrs. Abercrombie, but it really is nothing, and I will take your advice and come to you if I need to talk. Thank you for being so understanding.”