By PM O’Sullivan
John Joe Cullen is singing ‘Danny Boy’ in Flanders.
His voice sails off across the chalk, across the serried crosses and carefully tended plots. He is singing because Michael Burke, a paternal granduncle, is lying in one of four graves. He does not know which one. He keeps singing.
“I have adopted those graves,” Cullen clarifies. “Because Michael’s in one of them. When I go over to Belgium, I bring holy water or something Irish for him. It was incredible to find his location.”
He elaborates, voice heightening: “David Whithorn, a friend in England, is a wonderful World War I researcher. He was able to trace the body from battlefield to grave. David said: ‘Your granduncle is buried in Trois Arbres Cemetery, near the Belgian border.’ There’s a row of Royal Dublin Fusiliers, about 15 of them, and he gave the number.
“Michael is one of the four with no name. And the four are one after another. David knew they were machine gunned at such a time, and hastily buried somewhere else, taken from the field. Then they were finally interred there.”
Natural feeling cut a path: “Michael wasn’t found until 101 years after. He had been remembered on the Ploegsteert Memorial, which is one of Flanders’ most beautiful. But I was the first one in our family that visited him in over a century. It was really emotional, because the time we went was the one Friday of each month they have a ceremony.
“You can lay a wreath. They do it with such dignity.”
His presence on Kilkenny’s Great War Memorial Committee? Another natural connection: “I was friendly with Dónal Croghan, the Chairman. I was happy to do it, without knowing too much at first. But curiosity drives you along in life. And then an uncle of mine told me about Michael, which brought the issue far closer.”
The question of memorials, especially in an Irish context, can be contentious. John Joe Cullen remains admirably level: “The one thing we always felt was about the names on the wall. Putting the names on the wall and remembering these people, giving those names a person.
“These men went off for different reasons. They were trying to get money. And there’s the glamour side of war as well, for some people ― before they actually get into it. Once they get in, the glamour goes out fairly quickly.”
A kind of Kilkenny patriotism provided guidance: “Who are we to decide what their reasons were? Because the most important thing is to remember them as the Kilkenny people ― and Irish people ― that they were. They had a name. They had a life. They still have families in Kilkenny. And everyone deserves to be remembered, no matter what.”
This aim is now achieved. The memorial wall in Kilkenny’s Peace Park got unveiled on July 16, 2018. This man constantly absorbed wisdom during the process: “Somebody said one time the Belgian people are lovely people ― and they are. Somebody else said: ‘Why wouldn’t they be? They live in a graveyard.’ Every few miles, you’ll see a graveyard. And some of them are massive.”
Go back 40 years. Back to 1978 and a James Stephens GAA Club trip. John Joe Cullen is singing en route to New York. He smiles: “Once the airplane took off, and we took off the seatbelts, we drank and sang our way over. Non stop. The captain complimented us. He had a ball, listening.
“We hurled a few matches, naturally. New York was a fascinating place. We saw the Twin Towers, the Statue of Liberty. Then we were at a boxing match in Carnegie Hall. Next thing, shots were fired. The wrong lad was winning, apparently.”
One reaction fixed a Polaroid in his mind: “One of our lads ran ― and ran holding up his anorak over his head, as if it was going to stop bullets. We found that hilarious…”
They came back, much enhanced: “That was a fantastic trip altogether, an eye opener. And yet I wouldn’t change Kilkenny for the world, or Ireland for the world. All these places have something but it’s not home.”
John Joe Cullen stands long valued in many local contexts. His theatre involvements ― Letters From The Front (2023) and The Man Born To Be King (2025), most recently ― can only be fleetingly mentioned. There is so much.
A popular businessman on John Street for several decades, he possesses an unusual distinction. “I hurled with all three of the town teams,” John Joe notes. “I was born in Athlone, where my father was stationed in the Barracks, but we moved to Kilkenny when I was three. We lived over around St John’s, before moving to Fr Murphy Square, which is ’Boro. Then we moved to Larchfield, when I was about 13, which brought me into The Village club.”
Part of the Kilkenny patriotism? A love of hurling. He was a capable exponent and reached the ultimate with James Stephens in 1982, when they defeated Mount Sion for their second Club All Ireland title.
Cullen is too modest to mention that he hurled left corner forward. He merely continues: “We lived on the Granges Road, after I got married in the 1980s, which brought me back into The ’Boro. Then we moved to O’Loughlin Road, which is obviously O’Loughlin Gaels. I hurled where our house was.”
That 1978 trip to America coincided with a decisive life change as regards work: “I got a tremendous training from Tom Cunniffe in VG Supermarket on Parliament Street. I had a part time job there and went full time after I left the CBS. I spent six and a half years there under Tom, a great man.
“Then I heard about a job over in John Street, with Billy Sullivan. And at the time I was ready for a change. I was comfortable with Billy from the start. I was coming from a supermarket where the work was that bit more intense. You had to be ahead all of the time.
“Billy was an absolute gentleman, a very straightforward man. In excess of 40 years, we never had a cross word.”
Back in the 1970s, one young man’s sporting prowess hovered: The older man sketches: “That I was a hurler did no harm with Billy. He was Paddy Grace’s right hand man. Every Monday was hurling Monday. I nearly had to wear a helmet, the first few weeks, because there were balls flying in all directions…”
Cullen offers a revealing anecdote on his employer’s standing: “Billy took a phone call in 1981 from the Kilkenny People , about the state of hurling in the county. And I remember Billy replying: ‘As long as water flows and ash grows, there will be hurling in Kilkenny.’ Just came out of him. He had it. And he was right.”
His protégé took over the business in the early 1990s, a transition that proved seamless. Names of key workers he wants to acknowledge ― Terry Brown, Paddy Butler, Martin Coyne, Oliver Cullen, Joey Lawless ― come quick. He believes in warm acknowledgement on all fronts and hits nub: “John Street was a fabulous spot to do business.”
A new life now spreads, beckoning with grace notes. He turned 70 in July. His butchery closed on July 19. He is a retired man, as of a little while.
A retired man and newly a grandfather, much to broad delight. His wife, Margaret, and himself have three sons and a daughter. “We were waiting a while on the grandparents front,” he reveals. Then the characteristic smile: “There was no sign of anything. And then, all of a sudden, two buses came. They came within three weeks of one another. Liam was born in Vienna. Niadh, a granddaughter, was born in Kilkenny.”
He will have time for things. There will be further trips to Belgium. Still absorbing wisdom, John Joe Cullen thinks back to that first one, the wish to sing at Michael Burke’s resting place: “We waited until the band were gone and the ceremony was over. We wanted to be respectful. And then we sang.
“And this woman came over, with a folder under her arm, and I thought I was in trouble. She said: ‘Who’s doing the singing there?’ And I said it was me. She said: ‘You go home and join a choir!’
“And so…”
Salute for a Soldier
And there you lie, one of three,
Headstones together, yet you’re free,
The battle over, fought and won
With your comrades now as one.
In these graves beneath this sod
The wording says ‘known unto God’,
But from this day, you have been found,
Michael we salute you beneath this ground
May the rain fall gently upon you..
John Joe Cullen
Written in memory of Private Michael Burke (RDF), who died in Ploegsteert, Belgium,
and is buried in Trios Arbes Cemetery, France
