BY JOHN FITZGERALD
(Part two)
Continuing the story of the Great Escape from Kilkenny jail (or Gaol, which was the old spelling). Part one can be read on the Kilkenny Observer website…
The men gathered at the entrance to the tunnel and at 6.40 p.m., Larry Condon led the way in. He had previously ascertained that it was safe and secure. He reached his destination outside the jail, and helped his mates as they emerged from the tunnel exit. An estimated 44 prisoners crawled through to freedom; almost all of them were covered in mud, their clothes tattered and torn.
Once outside the jail, the escapees looked to the City men among them for guidance. Some of them sought refuge in nearby houses. Others ran to Patrick Street where transport awaited them. The pony and traps conveyed them to safety.
A local hurler, Paddy Donoghue, who lived in Rioch’s street, happened to be walking home while the escape was in progress. He was whistling a tune to himself when the sight of men appearing out of the ground startled him. In the dim light, he noticed an ever-increasing number of figures darting about in the shadows. He drew closer.
One of the faces rang a bell, he thought, and he correctly identified the man as the much admired rebel priest, Father Delahunty. With barely a sideward glance, the fugitive cleric brushed away the mud from his clothing, wished his comrades well, and headed towards Callan on foot.
Paddy responded to a plea for help from the prisoners, enlisting the support of Mattie Power, a hurler on the same Dicksboro team as himself who went on to win four All-Ireland medals after the war. Mattie and Paddy accompanied four ex-prisoners to the home of IRA man, Bill Walsh in Ballycallan. Bill saw to it that the four eluded the ensuing manhunt mounted by the police and military.
Tans, Auxiliaries, and armed police scoured the whole county, raiding homes, searching outhouses, wrecking pubs, and smashing up house furniture in their attempts to re-capture the escapees. The interrogation rooms at Woodstock worked overtime as the Tans tried in vain to beat or cajole information about the escapees out of people they arrested.
They failed to locate even one prisoner. Anyone they questioned fed the Tans and the RIC false information to throw them off the scent. Non-co-operation with the civic authorities and the forces of occupation that worked in concert with them had become second nature to a large section of the population.
The Kilkenny People of November 26th, 1921 carried an editorial on the breakout. It stated: “We can readily imagine that if the entente cordiale between England and France ever becomes sufficiently cordial to sanction the agreement for the construction of the channel tunnel between the two nations, the contractor for the job will start off by getting in touch with Larry Condon of Fermoy and Martin Kealy of Kilkenny and their comrades.
“What they do not know about constructing tunnels is not worth knowing, and they will refuse to be hampered by considerations of an eight hour day; nor do they particularly care about whether their work is carried out in old time or summer time.”
The later adventures of Father Delahunty would have been worthy of a Charles Dickens novel. After making his way out of the City, he was offered safe haven with the Egans of Ballyvoneen, near Mullinahone. He remained with them until the signing of the Truce a few weeks later. The bishop suspended him from his ministry for his Republican views, but the rebel priest found himself a new parish on the other side of the Atlantic.
In 1926, he resumed his priestly duties, taking up residence in Kansas, U.S.A. After serving in a number of parishes, he assumed the post of prison chaplain at Leavensworth State Penitentiary. Here, he came to be regarded as a living saint, as he sought to bring solace and spiritual comfort to men on death row.
He prayed for the condemned inmates, as they stood poised on the brink of eternity. His experience of Ireland during the Tan War had turned him against executions. The sight of men dying in the electric chair, or Old Smokey as it was called; repelled him. The brave Irish Republican and ex-P.O.W. could certainly claim to have experienced prison life from every angle.
He died peacefully in 1955 in a Kansas hospital. In 1957, Kilkenny Corporation named a street in a new housing estate after him. Delahunty Terrace is located just a hundred yards from the exit point of the tunnel that he and the other prisoners emerged from in 1921.
In his final years, his mind would wander back to the night of the escape. On one of his many holiday visits to Ireland, he remarked to an old veteran of the Tan War: “You know, that was the longest 50 yards I ever travelled, through that tunnel. It may as well have been 50 miles and taken as many years, to get from one end to the other, and we had no idea what awaited us outside the prison.
“I feared the worst. After all I’ve seen since, even in the State Pen in Kansas, the memory of that night is as strong and as vivid as ever. It will never leave me.”
Salvaging a part of our treasured heritage…
Though Kilkenny Gaol was demolished in 1948 a fragment of wall encompassing an iron gate remains and can still be seen St Francis Terrace. This has attracted many visits over the decades from cultural groups, and people with a special interest in preserving what’s left of Kilkenny’s legacy. It has featured in talks hosted by the Saturday Walkers group.
Though, as can be seen from the picture, it’s a bit unsightly now, with weeds and litter prevalent, there are suggestions locally that the site could be cleaned up and that a plaque summarizing the history of the old gaol might someday be unveiled to mark this historic spot. Such a move would undoubtedly have widespread public support
Perhaps community groups and politicians will act to ensure that this part of Kilkenny’s heritage is not lost to future generations?
