There appears to be a degree of confusion over the report Rangers International FC PLC have commissioned into the conduct of its directors. This report resulted from the revelation that Craig Whyte was a director of Sevco 5088 Ltd, the company which paid for exclusivity rights and had an irrevocable agreement to buy the assets from Rangers administrators, Duff and Phelps. Several RIFC directors were unaware of links between Whyte and Sevco 5088 and were so concerned they demanded this independent inquiry.
In short, the board need to know if information given to them by fellow director, Charles Green, is wholly correct and reliable. Another PLC has also told the stock market they have made a report to the Serious Fraud Office, for a company director, this cannot get more serious.
The report is unlikely to come to any hard conclusions as to the legal status of assets like Ibrox Stadium, that is a matter the courts could later take a different view of, or of the club’s entitlement to associate membership of the SFA, which will be a matter for Mr Ogilvie and his board. It will more likely do little more than inform the RIFC board if they have reasons for alarm.
On becoming aware of a potential serious corporate matter directors must take steps to confirm any disputed information, consider potential consequences for the company and correct any stock market announcements which were subsequently found to be inaccurate. This is the road the RIFC board have gone down.
If the report indicates that the courts are unlikely to rule that Sevco 5088 Ltd can be considered a part of RIFC group, and that its entitlement was inappropriately assumed by Sevco Scotland Ltd (now The Rangers Football Club Ltd), the directors will then, and only then, have enough information to decide if some of their worst fears will be realised.
If Mr Green found his grilling by STV difficult, he will find the forensic accountants and lawyers no less taxing. In answer to their questions I wonder if he’ll say, “Define Craig Whyte”.
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weeminger, It’s at times like these that I wish I could still post on hunmedia, that picture would drive them into a paranoid fenian hate fest.
Maybe big D has ra deeds?
Lucky cody, you sure you’re not missing a word or two in that last sentence?
TET – no idea. Lifted via a twitter and apparently not photoshopped. Probably meaningless but fun nonetheless.
Was that before oor Craig’s eyes were fully developed?
A Ceiler Gonof Rust
See when the huns were up for sale a year or so back, I know for a FACT that DD had a look see at the books.
That would be a FACT,a hun fact, maybes, but a FACT all the same >}}}
HH
LC. I really hope PL is not that short sighted, I rate those two highly especially JK OK they have the resources at CP but they could be attracted south if the right offer came along. Young managers are in vogue.
weeminger
Aye,. they will be beelin >}
Fred C. Dobbs 00:48 on 2 May, 2013 Was that before oor Craig’s eyes were fully developed?
……………………………………..
You mean the ones on the back of his heid or his boogly front peepers?
.
Dick byrne
23:51 on 1 May, 2013
God Bless Pablophanque
..
Dick Byrne..
Last week during a ‘Bad’ day on CQN.. For some reason I don’t know why.. I went on the CQN archive page..
Did Not really pick a Date but it turned out to be the Day Tommy Burns Passed..
I read a short Post by You.. Followed a Few posts later by Pablophanque responding to Your post.. Rid-Heeds
God Bless You Dick Byrne and of Course Pablophanque..
..
I remember Pablo arranging for a great CQN Glasgow Welcome for Zbyszek and his Mates for a Champions League game..
Then OldTim and BlantyreTim going over to Poland to visit our Polish Friend..
..
NB:My Own CQN rule..: l tend to Talk to People l have Actually met Or to People that they have Met.. otherwise you are Talking to a Computer..worse Still arguing with one..:-(
001Bhoy
Ps.. Welcome back Kit..
USA now intends to find out who has entered the country on student or tourist visas and just never left.
I know of several in that category.
http://www.npr.org/2013/05/01/180338462/u-s-aims-to-track-foreigners-who-arrive-but-never-leave
HH
Summa
How do you access archives or even track your own posts?
lostincyberspace CSC
Books I wish I’d read sooner:
Spitting on a Soldier’s Grave by Robert Widders (makes you ask questions)
Our War: Ireland and the Great War edited by John Horrne (poignant)
A Coward If I Return, A Hero if I Fall (Stories of Irishmen in WWI) by Neil Richardson (will rip your heart in two or three)
British Spies & Irish Rebels by Paul McMahon (great book)
In Time of War by Robert Fisk (great book)
Father William Doyle S.J. by Alfred O’Rahilly (will have you asking “am I worthy”)
Those are Real Bullets (Bloody Sunday, Derry, 1972) by Peter Pringle and Philip Jacobson. (this happened no matter what some would have you believe)
Anyone else think that the sevco v sevco independent report will snuggle up in the safe along with the 5-way agreement and the private investigator’s report that was commissioned by deidco’s board and presented to Minty before he sold the carcass to CW for £1?
That’ll be the duped Minty!
Summa of Sammi…. NB:My Own CQN rule..: l tend to Talk to People l have Actually met Or to People that they have Met.
…………………………………..
Hmmmmm, not really a rule that you stick to then skippy, is it?
Wanna buy a boat?
talkingbollox.com
Pablo… the earth got a wee bit lighter he left.
We did not always see eye to eye but we never fell out for too long.
We shared a joy for Nigel Tranters books but unlike Steve, I never got to meet the man. That plonker (Pablo), one day, just decided that he would rock up at Nigel Tranter’s door and tell him to his face how much he loved reading his books.
I wish I had done that.
The last time I spoke to Pablo he was in a state of distress. His wee girl was lost in Australia. He phoned me seeking a wee bit of help. He told me his wee girl was destitute on a beach an hours drive north of Brisbane. I told him to tell his girl to get in a taxi and come to my work and I would get it sorted; I asked him which beach his girl was on. He said he would get back to me. He phoned back about ten minutes later and told me she was up at Airlie Beach. I told him to tell his daughter to stop the taxi, get out and walk. Airlie Beach is not an hour north of Brisbane, no where near it.
As it turned out his wee girl was okay and I saved myself a big taxi fare.
The thing that endeared me most to Pablo, – like a lot of others – is he loved being a Scottish Celtic Supporter. He loved being Scottish and his heart was as big as his beloved nationality.
This is a copy and paste:
In June 1806, British troops disembarked from a small squadron of ships moored in the River Plate and made ready to attack Buenos Aires. The commanding naval officer of the flotilla was Commodore Sir Home Riggs Popham (1762-1820), a man from an Anglo-Irish family. Heading the land forces, and destined to be the first British Governor in South America if the attempt succeeded, was Brigadier General William Carr Beresford (1768-1854), an illegitimate son of the first marquess of Waterford in the Irish peerage. A high proportion of the soldiers onshore were also Irishmen. Historians have described the British invasion of 1806-1807 as forming the first stage of Argentinean-British relations and also of establishing the first tentative elements of an Irish community in Argentina. In this article, Thomas Byrne examines the events that highlight the substantial Irish involvement in the 1806 invasion, and explains the significance of this period in the context of Irish relations with South America.
——————————————————————————–
On 21 September 1806, eight wagons trundled into London under military escort. Cheering crowds watched from the streets while some brave souls watched from windows overhead. Blue silk banners emblazoned with ‘Buenos Aires, Popham, Beresford, Victory’ in gold thread were presented to the column in St James Square. On the front of each wagon was painted the word ‘Treasure’. Later that day over a million dollars in Spanish gold and silver was deposited in the vaults of the Bank of England. Many aspects of the history of British attempts to capture Buenos Aires in 1806-1807 seem more resonant of historical fiction than historical fact, perhaps none more so than this victory procession. A cavalcade of treasure-laden wagons passing through packed London streets evokes a scene from the novels of C.S. Forester’s Horatio Hornblower or Bernard Cornwell’s Richard Sharpe novels. Far from being fictional, however, this latter-day Roman triumph of captured booty really occurred and was documented in the sober Times of London newspaper. Unfortunately, however, a faraway disaster had already overtaken this triumph and ruined the reputation of the man largely responsible for initiating the entire enterprise, Anglo-Irishman Commodore Home Riggs Popham (1762-1820).
Popham came from a family established in Bandon, County Cork, Ireland. Confusion has attended descriptions of the exact place of his birth – some sources cited Gibraltar or Morocco, but his obituary in The Gentleman’s Magazine identified Ireland. Hugh Popham’s biography gives his ancestor’s birthplace as Gibraltar, explaining that while Joseph Popham, Home’s father, was British consul in Tetuan, Morocco, his wife and family was based in Gibraltar at the time of the boy’s birth. Home Popham joined the Royal Navy in February 1778 – his career was marked by innovation, celebrity and not a little controversy. Popham carried out a number of well received hydrographical surveys in the East Indies and invented a naval signalling system which involved the use of flags. Less rarefied aspects to his character came to the fore when he was accused of smuggling contraband from India. He also became very skilled in planning and carrying out amphibious operations with British land forces against Napoleon’s French armies and continental allies.
An operation in 1801 saw the by-now Captain Popham transport a British army commanded by Scotsman General David Baird (1759-1829) from Jeddah on the Arabian coast across the Red Sea to Egypt. Baird made the two-week journey aboard Popham’s flagship Romney, during which the two men established a close rapport – a fact which is of central importance in explaining later actions and decisions by both men. Once landed, Baird’s army was part of the epic march across the Egyptian desert to Cairo. Colonel William Carr Beresford (1768-1854), another Anglo-Irishman, and Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Auchmuty (1758-1822), an American loyalist, also featured prominently in this expedition and both would also be involved in the later attempt on Buenos Aires.
Napoleon’s strategy to sever Britain’s lines of communication with India, which was described by the British consul as ‘the masterkey to all the trading nations of the earth,’ was scuppered by British victories on land and at sea. In Europe, however, France was becoming increasingly dominant. Napoleon’s series of battlefield victories seemed unstoppable. Spain’s formal declaration of war against Britain in 1805 increased the pressure still further. However it also offered a promising new avenue of attack. Spain’s huge South American empire was viewed as a source of immense wealth, if free trade could be established and South American markets opened up. Equally, it was suggested that much of the £20 million of exports from South America each year passed into French hands. A military blow against Spanish America would thus also be a blow to France economically. This would be a vulnerability that Britain could and – some voices suggested forcefully – should exploit.
One of the most prominent voices promoting British intervention in South America was Francisco de Miranda (1750-1816). Born in Venezuela, originally an officer in the Spanish army, later accused of treason, he renounced his Spanish allegiance and travelled widely to promote his ideas for a South American empire independent of Spain. Having unsuccessfully sought financial and military support in the United States and France, he spent a number of similarly unprofitable years in London trying to persuade the British government of the righteousness and utility of his schemes. In 1803, he met Home Popham and discovered in him what seemed to be a kindred spirit. This comparison may not be wholly positive; a recent historian sums the situation up well by describing Miranda as ‘a shallow unscrupulous adventurer, not wholly innocent of knavery’, and goes on to state that ‘Popham’s character at bottom perhaps differed not very greatly from Miranda.’ The two would-be liberators worked on a series of memoranda advocating the philosophical, political and practical reasons in favour of independence for South America. Popham’s connections among the merchant and political communities in London and the changed geopolitical situation ensured a more receptive hearing of Miranda’s scheme. Helpful too was the fact that William Pitt the Younger was back in power as Prime Minister of a Tory administration with Henry Dundas (1742-1811), Lord Melville, as one of his most influential cabinet members. Dundas had long been a supporter of intervention in Spanish America but had been counterbalanced previously by the scepticism of William Wyndham Grenville (1759-1834), Lord Grenville, Pitt’s cousin and close advisor. Grenville was now in opposition in 1804, largely due to his support for political rights for Catholics in Ireland, and Melville thus had renewed hopes of persuading Pitt to support a South American expedition.
By 1804, despite another brush with the naval authorities and the law, due to ‘enormous and unnecessary expenditure while in India’, Popham had become a Tory MP for the Isle of Wight. He had been in contact with William Huskisson (1784-1844), Joint Secretary to the Treasury in Pitt’s 1804 government, since the latter had been Under-Secretary of the Navy in the 1790s. Popham had also been cultivated by Melville (and most likely vice versa) and Nicholas Vansittart (1766-1851), one of Miranda’s closest friends in England. Melville, Huskisson and Vansittart had constituted a South American lobby since the late 1790s – even drawing up a secret memorandum proposing a British expedition to the continent in 1796, and recommending the seizure of Buenos Aires ‘because little resistance was likely, it was fertile green and healthy, likely to seek British protection and [….] would form one of the most productive and improvable colonies in the world.’ Popham, an experienced naval officer who was held in high esteem by the army, politically reliable and commercially minded, seemed the ideal man to lead the enterprise.
Pitt met Melville, Miranda and Popham in October 1804 to discuss the possibility of sending an expedition to South America. The trio disclaimed any interest in conquest – emphasising that ‘the sole objective would be to secure independence for the Latin Americans’ and commercial opportunities for Britain. Pitt also received other representations to undertake a South American strategy from merchant and traveller William Jacob (1761/2-1851) and Captain Charles Herbert, who urged that the French be forestalled and a death blow be struck to Spanish American power (Gallo 2001: 30-31). Pitt was not moved enough by all the entreaties to sanction immediate action, citing Russian hopes to detach Spain from France diplomatically and the need to await the outcome of more conventional military challenges to Napoleon. Popham however, took this to mean that Pitt and the government would be in favour of an attack on South America once these – perhaps temporary – obstacles had been resolved.
Meanwhile, a more immediate French threat was evident in Africa. With the Batavian Republic now allied with France, the Dutch Cape of Good Hope colony presented a very real danger to British communications with India. Pitt’s government decided to send Sir David Baird and a 6,654-man force to seize the territory; Commodore Home Riggs Popham was selected to command the fleet. It is not known whether it occurred to anyone in government that Buenos Aires and the River Plate Viceroyalty might present a too-tempting target to the Irishman, but Popham saw the opportunity very clearly. Having helped to take the Cape Colony with little difficulty, and receiving the recent news of Napoleon’s decisive victories at Ulm and Austerlitz, Popham set about convincing Baird that an expedition to Buenos Aires without delay would be what Pitt would want in these changed circumstances. As described earlier, Baird and Popham had developed a close relationship since their time aboard ship in the Egyptian campaign of 1801. Now he explained to his old colleague that intervention in the River Plate would ‘add lustre to his Majesty’s arms, distress our enemies and open a most beneficial trade for Britain.’ He also claimed to have information from Buenos Aires ‘on the defenceless state of the River Plate’ from an American merchant ship’s captain, Thomas Waine; other sources allege that another motive may have spurred Popham on – information from the same merchant that a large consignment of bullion and specie was at Buenos Aires awaiting shipment to Spain. Popham was in dire straits financially at this point in his career, burdened by debts relating to an unsuccessful trading venture; he may also have owed money to William White, another American merchant resident in Buenos Aires. The Morning Star newspaper later claimed that Baird was apparently promised two-thirds of the prize money in return for supplying the troops for the expedition.
In any event, Popham was able to persuade Baird that an expedition was possible, even permissible, and to give him 1,400 soldiers in total, some 844 from the 71st Regiment; he had threatened to mount the expedition without them in any case. Again harking back to the Egyptian campaign, fellow Irishman Brigadier General William Carr Beresford was given command of the troops, having ‘particularly requested the appointment.’ His second-in-command was Lieutenant Colonel Denis Pack (1772-1823), yet another Irishman. Peter Pyne also argues convincingly that although the 71st Regiment was notionally a Scottish unit, the rank-and-file had become largely Irish after many years garrisoned in the west of Ireland. Indeed, the entire enterprise might be termed the Anglo-Irish invasion of Buenos Aires with some justification.
The small fleet of four ships, one gun brig and four transports, set off on the voyage west on the 14 April 1806. After Popham had again worked his persuasive talents on the British governor of the St Helena and added another 200 troops, the squadron arrived off Buenos Aires on 25 June. The Spanish governor in Buenos Aires, Rafael de Sobremonte (1745-1827), had few troops at his disposal and those that were available were largely untrained and badly-equipped, despite the governor’s many and repeated pleas to Spain for assistance. To add to Sobremonte’s woes, summer weather had dried the coastal marshes that usually acted as a natural defensive barrier blocking passage inland from the shore. Beresford’s British troops made rapid progress, dispersing the meagre Spanish forces available. Sobremonte retreated into the interior of the province, taking the royal treasury with him. Though the Governor was just following regulations that had been laid down him in case of invasion, the populace of Buenos Aires quickly condemned him as a coward and he thereafter languished as a rather irrelevant figure. On the 27 June 1806, Buenos Aires, with its population of 40,000, surrendered to Beresford’s British force of 1,600 soldiers, many of whom were Irish. Historian Ian Fletcher calls this a remarkable achievement considering the numbers involved, however the porteños’ (residents of Buenos Aires) pride had been wounded and any complacency on the part of victorious army was ill-advised.
Popham ordered that a squad be sent inland immediately in pursuit of the governor and the royal treasury. Thirteen days later it was brought back to Buenos Aires, and on 16 July Beresford wrote to London informing the government that 1,086,208 dollars were being dispatched back to England. An already-shocked citizenry was decidedly unimpressed by the sight of their money being shipped abroad – Ian Fletcher has gone so far as to describe this as an ‘act of almost Elizabethan piracy.’ The humiliation was exacerbated further when Beresford refused to clarify what exactly were the British intentions. To a large degree this was because he operating without any clear orders. Having captured the city, it seemed neither Popham nor Beresford had a clear idea of what to do next. Would the city, and ultimately the viceroyalty, be assisted in declaring its independence? Did the British intend to place the area under their protection as the newest of King George’s imperial possessions?
The maverick and improvisational nature of the enterprise now rebounded to the detriment of the British commanders and troops. Resentment and hostility grew amongst all sections of Buenos Aires society. Even those disposed to favour a break with Spain (in the main creoles – those born in South America but of Spanish heritage; in an interesting comparison, Popham and Beresford could also perhaps be considered as creoles themselves, born in Ireland or to Irish-based families but with English heritage) grew restive as they wondered whether the British would long remain in the colony. What would the future hold for anyone who supported the British if and when Spanish control was re-established? Popham seemed to have lost interest in affairs onshore by this stage and in the absence of clear and definite information from Beresford, pragmatism and patriotism became motivations operating hand-in-hand.
Dithering, prevarication and admonishments to be patient while waiting for a response from London achieved nothing – soon the British soldiers were being viewed as a force of occupation. In an eerie precursor of recent events in Iraq, an expedition which set out proclaiming an interest in ‘liberation’ now found itself the target of increasingly patriotic resistance. Verbal assaults soon gave way to physical attacks in the city. Shadowy groups began to plan more elaborate measures, including exploding barrels of gunpowder in the cellar beneath the main British quarters. The remnants of the regular Spanish forces also began to revitalise around the leadership of Santiago de Liniers (1753-1810), a French émigré and Spanish naval officer. Martín de Pueyrredón (1776-1850), whose mother was of Irish descent, organised an irregular force of horsemen on the outskirts of Buenos Aires. Beresford repulsed an attack by this group but noted that the situation was deteriorating rapidly; he and his opponents both realised that 1,600 soldiers could not hold the city in the face of a hostile populace. Beresford intended to evacuate his force on 10 August but heavy rain prevented the plan being put into action. Two days later, Liniers’ main army joined with rebels from within the city. Facing a combined opposing force of 10,000 men, Beresford surrendered at noon on 12 August 1806.
The original conditions of surrender specified that the captured British troops would be allowed to re-embark and sail home. However voices within the Buenos Aires cabildo (municipal council) feared that British reinforcements were on their way. Indeed they were; General John Whitelocke and 6,000 men eventually assaulted Buenos Aires again in July 1807. This second expedition proved to be an almost complete fiasco, with newly-raised and better-trained local militia units resoundingly defeating the British force, which again included hundreds of Irishmen in the 87th and 88th regiments. Whitelocke was later courtmartialled and expelled from the army. It was argued that the captured soldiers should be held as prisoners of war. To prevent escape they were moved inland and dispersed throughout the provinces.
For officers this was a comfortable existence – riding, hunting and cricket all featured in the daily prison routine. Other ranks also found the lifestyle and possibilities attractive. Peter Pyne has demonstrated that between desertions, defections and those prisoners who opted to remain behind after British prisoners had been formally repatriated in 1808, some hundreds of soldiers from the original expedition settled in Argentina; he estimates that of this group, some 250-300 were Irishmen. Pyne also argues that although a distinctively Irish community did not form at this time, partly because of the absence of Irish women, some members of this group of Irish ex-soldiers from the 1806 expedition who integrated into the social, economic and political fabric of the newly independent Argentina did manage to re-establish meaningful links with their relatives in Ireland. In one case study, Patrick McKenna’s MA thesis highlights the fact that one of these men, John Murray, had strong connections with Streamstown in County Westmeath, in the midlands of Ireland. A largely agricultural county with a surfeit of population and an extreme shortage of land, it is not difficult to see the appeal created by firsthand descriptions of a local man who had done well in a country with excess land and too few people to work it. The evidence does not allow a definitive statement that this link was a central motivation for later emigration from Westmeath; however up to 40 % of Irish migrants to Argentina did originate in Westmeath. It seems reasonable to believe that firsthand information on the opportunities available from ex-soldiers who had settled in Argentina contributed to the extent of this migratory pattern. As Peter Pyne puts it, the small number of Irish troops who remained behind in what was to become Argentina ‘laid the foundations for an emergent Irish colony on the River Plate by attracting other migrants from Ireland.’
One of the outcomes, then, of the British (and Irish) invasions of Buenos Aires in 1806 was the inchoate foundation of what eventually became a very significant Irish presence in Argentina. The major immediate result, however, was Argentinean independence itself, which was declared in 1816. In concrete terms, the citizens’ militia units that were formed, armed and trained to resist the British forces in 1806 became the foundation of the military forces that in time won independence from Spain. Having taken on the strongest military power in the world and won ‘proved an inspiration and springboard to independence.’ However the British too rebounded from the disastrous intervention in the longer term (the defeat itself has been excised from the national memory) and achieved their economic objectives through more peaceful means. Despite not being incorporated formally as a colony, Argentina and much of South America became part of Britain’s informal empire. Commercially, if not politically, the area remained very much under British influence. Klaus Gallo sums up this outcome by declaring that Home Popham’s rash enterprise had the unexpected result of opening up the first stage of Anglo-Argentinean relations. Despite the buccaneering aspect of the operation, Popham, Beresford and many hundreds of other Irishmen’s endeavours might well be judged to have also made a significant contribution to the establishment of Argentine-Irish relations. Perhaps the silk banners emblazoned in gold thread with ‘Buenos Aires, Popham, Beresford, Victory’ were deserved after all, if for very different reasons than anyone in the crowd could have foreseen.
TET, so my post about big dessy owning the deeds might not be a million sevco shares from the truth then?
Fantasy stuff, but your post put a wry smile on this tims gub:-)
HH ra cave dwellers
Boston Police Gaelic Column pipes and drums
Father Flanagan’s Story
His Birth
Edward Joseph Flanagan was born on July 13, 1886 at Leabeg (homestead), County Roscommon, Village of Ballymoe, Ireland. The ruins of the home he was raised in exist today. It is believed that the child was born prematurely, thus leading to his family’s fear that he would not survive through the first days of his life. His grandfather Patrick held Edward wrapped in a blanket to his chest for hours at a time sitting next to the hearth in their kitchen. In those first hours, prayer, warmth and complete love sustained him to survive.
Listen to “A Son of Ballymoe,” by John Duggan
An Irish tribute to Father Flanagan
Family and His Youth
Edward J. Flanagan was the eighth of eleven children born to John and Nora Flanagan. The Flanagans were a hard working farm family. All were raised sharing the modest and cramped quarters of the home at Leabeg. Edward was baptized at St. Croan Parish in Ballymoe. He attended Drimatemple National School, near his home, began his secondary education in 1901, at age fifteen and completed it at age eighteen graduating with academic distinction from Summerhill College in Sligo, County Sligo.
Perhaps due to his condition at birth, Edward was frail and often struggled with illnesses throughout his entire life. Despite this he was determined and optimistic to accomplish the deeds in front of him. In a letter to a friend he wrote, “You also may not know that I was the little shepherd boy who took care of the cattle and sheep. That seemed to be my job as I was the delicate member of the family and good for nothing else, and with probably a poorer brain than most of the other members of the family.”
The Flanagan’s were a devout, religious family and attended church in nearby Ballymoe, across the river in Galway. The Rosary was their family prayer and often when they went looking for young Eddie, he could be found praying his Rosary in some spot. Sometimes he and his father would pray the Rosary in the rain and Rosaries in hand go together looking for lost sheep.
He was clearly formed for his life long mission work during the days of his youth in Ireland. “The old-fashioned home with fireside companionship, its religious devotion and its closely-knit family ties is my idea of what a home should be. My Father would tell me many stories that were interesting to a child — stories of adventure, or the struggle of the Irish people for independence. It was from him I learned the great science of life and heard examples from the lives of saints, scholars and patriots. It was from his life I first learned the fundamental rule of life of the great Saint Benedict, ‘pray and work.'”
Coming to America
He emigrated to America in 1904, with his sister Nellie. They sailed out of Queenstown in County Cork on the S.S. Celtic in late August, arriving at Ellis Island, New York on August 27th. He stayed with his Mother’s relatives until he began his studies at Mount St. Mary’s Seminary in Emmitsburg, Maryland, arriving for the opening event of the school year, the annual Barbecue Day on October 19th. He graduated with honours from Mount St. Mary’s College on June 29, 1906, with an A.B. degree that qualified him for entrance in Dunwoodie Seminary in Yonkers as a seminarian for the Archdiocese of New York.
In the first year of his studies he contracted double pneumonia and because of his weak lungs was unable to fully recover and was told by the doctors he would have to leave the seminary for at least a year.
He moved to Omaha, Nebraska in 1907, to live with his brother, Father P.A. (Patrick) Flanagan, so that his sister Nellie, who was Father P.A.’s housekeeper, could nurse her younger brother back to health.
In August of 1907, after a complete rest, he sailed for Italy from the Port of New York. In Rome he lived at Capranica College, with classes at the Gregorian University. When the Roman winter set in, he became sick again, returning to America on January 29, 1908, aboard the S.S. Cedric.
He re-joined his family in Omaha, resting and recuperating until he was strong enough to work. He found a job as an accountant with the Cudahy Packing Company in Omaha, where he worked until his restored health allowed him to resume to his seminary studies.
In September of 1909, Edward Flanagan left New York on a ship bound for Rotterdam, where he would disembark and begin his journey across Germany to Innsbruck, Austria to complete his studies at the Royal Imperial Leopold Francis University. The calling he had first heard at the tender age of six years old was fulfilled with his ordination to the priesthood on July 26, 1912. His first mass was in St. Ignatius Church in Innsbruck.
His Work and His Mission
Soon after his ordination, he boarded the S.S. Cincinnati for New York, and from there continued on to Omaha, where he received his first parish assignment from the Bishop’s office. He was to follow his brother Pat as assistant pastor to the Irish community at St. Patrick’s Church in O’Neill, Nebraska, where Pat had spent his first parish assignment after his arrival in Omaha in 1904.
Six months later, in Holy Week of 1913, Father Edward was transferred to St. Patrick’s Church in Omaha to assist the ailing pastor, Father John T. Smith. At six o’clock P.M. on Easter Sunday, a violent tornado struck Omaha, destroying one third of the city. The morning after the tragedy, Father Flanagan was out with mortician Leo Hoffman picking up the bodies of the dead and making arrangements for their decent burial. The tornado left 155 people killed, hundreds homeless, and fathers of families without work.
For the next two years, Fr. Edward ministered to the needs of those affected by the tornado and then in 1915, his outreach continued in a new area: finding shelter and food for the many seasonal workers who became stranded in Omaha without work due to the drought. As the cold winter approached, Father Edward found an old garage on a side street of the city, spread straw on the floor and gave the men he found sleeping in coal bunkers near the tracks, a warmer place to stay. He received permission from Bishop Scannell to open a shelter for the men, and by November had acquired the old Burlington Hotel, recruited the homeless men to clean it up and moved in fifty-seven of them.
The following spring, when the men left for available farm labor, Father Edward found a larger place—an old boarding house on the corner of Capitol and Thirteenth Streets in January 1916. He called it “The Workingmen’s Hotel” where that winter he sheltered up to one thousand men. With the Declaration of War by the United States in April of 1917, the Workingmen’s Hotel emptied as many of the homeless and jobless men enlisted. However, word of the hobo paradise in the middle of Omaha spread and soon Father Edward’s shelter was filled with a different kind of occupant. As he listened to the stories of these drifters, he realized the story was always the same—none of them had come from a loving and caring family, all were victims of parental neglect or broken homes, or homes where a parent had died or deserted.
At this time he decided to make an exhaustive study of the juvenile justice system and also immersed himself in studying the social theories and insights of his time. In the summer of 1917, he took seven boys from the courts, met with them three times a week and established a healthy routine for them. By November, he knew his purpose, and with the permission of Omaha Diocesan Bishop Jeremiah Harty on December 12, 1917, he moved five boys, ages eight to ten, into his first home for boys in the old Byron Reed Building at 25th and Dodge. He quickly outgrew that building and on June 1, 1918 moved his now 32 boys to the former German-American Home at 4206 South 13th Street. By Christmas, there were over 100 boys in the Home and soon the capacity of 150 boys was reached. With help from the Mother-Superior of the Notre Dame Sisters, and an army of well-trained teachers, he put his school program on a solid footing so that in the fall each boy could begin classes on his level.
On May 18, 1921, he received the deed to Overlook Farm, constructed five buildings for his boys, and was able to move them to their new Home by October 22, 1921. Overlook Farm is now the incorporated Village of Boys Town.
In addition to the daily Divine Office, Father Flanagan had a particular devotion to Mary and prayed the Rosary everyday. No one could ever seem to arrive in the morning at the chapel before he did. He encouraged every boy to pray; his famous quote is, “Every boy should pray; how he prays is up to him.”
His Mission and Legacy
Father Flanagan’s mission work took him to 31 states and to twelve countries in Asia and in Europe. More than 6,000 youth were under his direct care during his lifetime. U.S. Presidents and other world leaders sought his counsel. He advised, was studied and inspired other clergy and youth care workers throughout the world. Eighty-nine programs across the globe are directly inspired by his example.
In 1946, Father Flanagan visited his beloved Ireland for the last time. He toured prisons, industrial schools for youth and youth care facilities operated by the Christian Brothers. He openly condemned the youth care institutions he observed as a “disgrace to the nation.” Father Flanagan was no mere critic. He offered Ireland a solution and implored his native countrymen to adopt it. For this he was publicly ridiculed and ostracized by the national government and officials of the Christian Brothers. It was among Father Flanagan’s dying wishes that his mission work would be brought to Ireland.
He prophesized before his passing in Berlin, Germany on May 15, 1948, “That the work will continue you see, whether I’m there or not, because it’s God’s work, not mine.” Today his mission has grown to Boys Town program locations in 10 states and Washington D. C., two hospitals (one on the main campus), a national training center and national hotline. Today, Boys Town provides direct and indirect care to 1.4 million youth and families annually.
larssonse7en
01:42 on 2 May, 2013
This is brill – I implore everyone to take 4 and a half minutes out of their life to watch this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HeEWtNaW6KE
Genius
.
Def of Tend to do something
to have a tendency to do something. Jill tends to play with her hair while she works. Sam tends to talk in the third person.
See also: tend
Summa of ThatsNotAWifeThisIsAWifeCSC
.
Ralph..
http://wayback.archive.org/web/20120101000000*/http:////www.celticquicknews.co.uk
Summa
Prayer for Priests by Fr Doyle
O my God, pour out in abundance Thy spirit of sacrifice upon Thy priests. It is both their glory and their duty to become victims, to be burnt up for souls, to live without ordinary joys, to be often the objects of distrust, injustice, and persecution.
The words they say every day at the altar, “This is my Body, this is my Blood,” grant them to apply to themselves: “I am no longer myself, I am Jesus, Jesus crucified. I am, like the bread and wine, a substance no longer itself, but by consecration another.”
O my God, I burn with desire for the sanctification of Thy priests. I wish all the priestly hands which touch Thee were hands whose touch is gentle and pleasing to Thee, that all the mouths uttering such sublime words at the altar should never descend to speaking trivialities.
Let priests in all their person stay at the level of their lofty functions, let every man find them simple and great, like the Holy Eucharist, accessible to all yet above the rest of men. O my God, grant them to carry with them from the Mass of today, a thirst for the Mass of tomorrow, and grant them, ladened themselves with gifts, to share these abundantly with their fellow men.
Amen.
kitalba 01.28, that’s a heart warming wee story. As a relative newcomer on the blog I never had the window in time to see your friends posts.
There are a lot of great people on this blog and I had the pleasure of meeting a “big squad” of them last Saturday and having an end of night sing song with the die hards in bar67.
Your friend is often mentioned on here and was obviously well loved, I’ll raise a dram to him.
Hail Hail Bruv
We Are Celtic
Summa,
Thanks.
He shall not hear the bittern cry
In the wild sky, where he is lain,
Nor voices of the sweeter birds
Above the wailing of the rain.
Nor shall he know when loud March blows
Through slanting snows her fanfare shrill,
Blowing to flame the golden cup
Of many an upset daffodil.
But when the Dark Cow leaves the moor
And pastures poor with greedy weeds,
Perhaps he’ll hear her low at morn
Lifting her horn in pleasant meads.
By Francis Ledwidge, Royal Inniskilling Fusiliers; Killed by a shell near Ypres, 31st July 1917
——————————————————————————–
Contributed by Sean Conolly, Royal Dublin Fusiliers Association
Father William Doyle was born at Dalkey, Co Dublin on 3rd March, 1873, the youngest of seven children. He was ordained as a Jesuit in 1907 and volunteered to serve as a Military Chaplain at the front in 1914. He was appointed to the 8th Royal Irish Fusiliers, 16th (Irish) Division, in November 1915. His first experience of battle was at Loos where he was caught in the German poison gas attack on 26 April. He ministered to the soldiers in the midst of the battle, displaying a total disregard for his own safety. He was mentioned in dispatches but his Colonel’s recommendation for the Military Cross was not accepted because he had not been long enough at the front. He was presented with the parchment of merit of the 49th Brigade.
In May 1916, he had a lucky escape: “I was standing in a trench, quite a long distance from the firing line, a spot almost as safe as Dalkey (his home village) itself, talking to some of my men when we heard in the distance the scream of a shell……none of us had calculated that this gentleman had made up his mind to drop into the trench itself, a couple of paces from where I stood. What really took place in the next ten seconds I cannot say. I was conscious of a terrific explosion and the thud of falling stones and debris. I thought the drums of my ears were split by the crash, and I believe I was knocked down by the concussion, but when I jumped to my feet I found that the two men who had been standing at my left hand, the side the shell fell, were stretched on the ground dead, though I think I had time to give them absolution and anoint them. The poor fellow on my right was lying badly wounded in the head; but I myself , though a bit stunned and dazed by the suddenness of the whole thing, was absolutely untouched, though covered with dirt and blood.”
In August 1916, he took part in the fighting at Ginchy and Guillemont. His description of Leuze Wood is striking: “The first part of our journey lay through a narrow trench, the floor of which consisted of deep thick mud, and the bodies of dead men trodden under foot. It was horrible beyond description, but there was no help for it, and on the half-rotten corpses of our own brave men we marched in silence, everyone busy with his own thoughts…… Half an hour of this brought us out on the open into the middle of the battlefield of some days previous. The wounded, at least I hope so, had all been removed, but the dead lay there stiff and stark with open staring eyes, just as they had fallen. Good God, such a sight! I had tried to prepare myself for this, but all I had read or pictured gave me little idea of the reality. Some lay as if they were sleeping quietly, others had died in agony or had had the life crushed out of them by mortal fear, while the whole ground, every foot, was littered with heads or limbs, or pieces of torn human bodies. In the bottom of one hole lay a British and a German soldier, locked in a deadly embrace, neither had any weapon but they had fought on to the bitter end. Another couple seemed to have realised that the horrible struggle was none of their making, and that they were both children of the same God; they had died hand-in-hand. A third face caught my eye, a tall, strikingly handsome young German, not more, I should say, than eighteen. He lay there calm and peaceful, with a smile of happiness on his face, as if he had had a glimpse of Heaven before he died. Ah, if only his poor mother could have seen her boy it would have soothed the pain of her broken heart.”
In December, 1916, he was transferred to 8th Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers. He met his fellow Jesuit Father Frank Browne who was attached to the 2nd and 9th Dublins. His concern for the his men shines through his letters and diaries.
“I found the dying lad – he was not much more- so tightly jammed into a corner of the trench that it was almost impossible to get him out. Both legs were smashed, one in two or three places, so his chances of life were small, and there were other injuries as well. What a harrowing picture that scene would have made. A splendid young soldier, married only a month they told me, lying there, pale and motionless in the mud and water with the life crushed out of him by a cruel shell. The stretcher bearers hard at work binding up as well as they may, his broken limbs; round about a group of silent Tommies looking on and wondering when will their turn come. Peace for a moment seems to have taken possession of the battlefield, not a sound save the deep boom of some far-off gun and the stifled moans of the dying boy, while as if anxious to hide the scene, nature drops her soft mantle of snow on the living and dead alike.”
He was awarded the Military Cross in January, 1917 though many believed that he deserved the Victoria Cross for his bravery under fire. He took part in the attack on Wytschaete Ridge in June,1917. Fr.Browne was transferred to the Irish Guards at the start of August which left Fr. Doyle to service four battalions by himself.
He had a number of close calls before he was killed by a shell along with three officers on 17 August, on Frezenberg Ridge. He was recommended for the DSO at Wytschaete and the VC at Frezenberg. His biographer comments: “However the triple disqualification of being an Irishmen, a Catholic and a Jesuit, proved insuperable.”
He has no known grave but is commemorated on the Tyne Cot Memorial (Panel 144 to 145).
Can anyone explain why my thanks to Summa post has been delayed awaiting moderation?
Anyone?
HH
anyone else think that barcelona would have played better today if wan&%rs fc were in the SPL this season, i’ll try that on ssb tomorrow.
summaoftalkingincode, who doesn’t talk to posters he doesn’t know (but does break his NO. 1 CQN rule by posting to posters he doesn’t know?) and speaks in semi literate gibberish, wanna buy a boat?
Don’t answer that, you don’t know me.
Incode.com;-)
Another copy and paste:
Remembering Fr Doyle in Dalkey
Yesterday I visited the Church of the Assumption in Dalkey, just a few minutes from where Fr Doyle grew up. He used to attend Mass in this Church with his family, and if I am not mistaken, he used to occasionally play the organ here.
I was delighted to see that Fr Doyle is still remembered here: a special plaque commemorating Fr Doyle was placed on the altar steps, and he was remembered at Mass.
It was also good to bump into some other locals who I had never met before who also hold Fr Doyle in high esteem and have a devotion to him.
But the best surprise was when I got a call a few hours later from the local priest saying that he was going on a tour of Melrose, Fr Doyle’s old home, and that I was welcome if I would like to come.
Thankfully the new owners of Melrose are very interested in Fr Doyle and his memory. It was wonderful to visit the bedroom where it is assumed he was born.
Beside this bedroom is a room that was probably the nursery. And this brings to mind the following passage from O’Rahilly’s biography:
For all his future holiness, Willie was by no means a stilted or unnatural child. He played games and he played pranks; and though he cannot be said to have been naughty, he was also far from being irritatingly or obtrusively pious. It is consoling to find that, like most of us, he played at being a soldier. He was seven years old when it was decided that he should emerge from the stage of velvet suit and long curls. On his return from the fateful visit to the hairdresser’s, his mother seemed sad on seeing Willie with his shorn locks. But the little fellow himself was delighted, and sturdily insisted that soldiers did not wear curls, at least not nowadays. His mother had to make a soldier’s suit for him, with red stripes down the sides; and when he won a great battle, a couple of stripes had to be added to one sleeve! This is how his old nurse describes his youthful exploits:
“His love to be a soldier even from his babyhood was wonderful to fight for Ireland. He would arrange his soldiers and have them all ready for battle. The nursery was turned upside down, to have plenty of room for fighting, building castles, putting up tents, all for his soldiers. Poor nurse looked on, but was too fond of him to say anything. He and a brother with some other little boys were having a great battle one day. He was fighting for Ireland; his brother was fighting for England, as he said his grandmother was English. There was a flag put up to see who was able to get it; the battle went on for some time, then in a moment, Master Willie dashed in and had the flag in his hand, though they were all guarding it. They could not tell how he got it; he was the youngest and smallest of the lot.”
And what was recently found under the floorboards of what was probably the nursery only a small, old toy soldier!!
Was this one of Willie’s little soldiers? If so, it is one of the most substantial “relics” of his still left to us. But while it seems probable, we shall never know for certain.
And speaking of relics, I was also privileged to see an old legitimate relic of Fr Doyle yesterday.
These pieces of Fr Doyle’s uniform were apparently widely distributed from the 1920’s onwards, but it is unfortunately impossible to get them anywhere now.
The final surprise yesterday was to discover that Fr Doyle is apparently the only Catholic priest ever to be a member of the Orange Order (whether he wanted to be or not!). This is extraordinary if true.
Apparently he was made an honorary member posthumously for his services in the war to Protestant soldiers from Ulster. This brings to mind the following testimony from a Belfast Orangeman:
Fr. Doyle was a good deal among us. We couldn’t possibly agree with his religious opinion, but we simply worshipped him for other things. He didn’t know the meaning of fear, and he didn’t know what bigotry was. He was as ready to risk his life to take a drop of water to a wounded Ulsterman as to assist men of his own faith and regiment. If he risked his life in looking after Ulster Protestant soldiers once, he did it a hundred times in the last few days. . . . The Ulstermen felt his loss more keenly than anybody, and none were readier to show their marks of respect to the dead hero priest than were our Ulster Presbyterians. Fr. Doyle was a true Christian in every sense of the word, and a credit to any religious faith. He never tried to get things easy. He was always sharing the risks of the men, and had to be kept in restraint by the staff for his own protection. Many a time have I seen him walk beside a stretcher trying to console a wounded man with bullets flying around him and shells bursting every few yards.
test
icles
Baby Can I hold you
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X 4
Why?
Make that six?
Moderation for what exactly?
John Mullin, Ireland Correspondent
The Guardian, Saturday 9 October 1999 02.14 BST
With a tug of a purple sash, Belfast’s lord mayor yesterday honoured one of the city’s most famous sons, awarded the Victoria Cross 54 years ago.
At City Hall Bob Stoker, an Ulster Unionist, unveiled a statue by Elizabeth McLaughlin commemorating Jim Magennis, who received Britain’s highest accolade for a mini-submarine mission through minefields.
He was a Catholic, and Stormont, citadel of Unionist power, had been enraged by the award.
In 1945 Magennis, who was 25, clamped six limpet mines to the hull of a Japanese warship, Takao, guarding Singapore. It blew apart five hours later. He also saved his three colleagues. Exhausted after attaching the mines because he had first to scrape barnacles from the hull, he insisted on leaving the submarine again to free it from the sea bed despite a leak of oxygen from his breathing apparatus. He was the only VC winner from Northern Ireland in that war.
However, it was mostly Unionist councillors at the unveiling yesterday, including members of Ian Paisley’s Democratic Unionist party. Only a handful of SDLP representatives, including Lord Fitt, a wartime merchant seaman, attended. Sinn Fein boycotted the event.
Ian Fraser, Magennis’s commanding officer, was there. Now 78, he was also awarded the VC for the raid and is one of only two surviving Royal Navy holders of the cross from the second world war. “Jim gave me bother from time to time,” he said. “He liked his tot of rum. But he was a lovely man and a fine diver. I have never, ever met a braver man than him. It is wonderful to see Belfast honour him at last.”
Magennis, short of cash, sold his medal for £100 in 1952. He recreated the mission in a toy submarine and water tank for an English circus.
He left Belfast 45 years ago after his son David, six, was killed by a trolley bus, eventually settling in his wife Edna’s home town, Bradford, west Yorkshire. He died of cancer in 1986, aged 66.
Fuckit, I give up.
Nothing I posted broke the blog rules, maybe except this post for saying fuckit.
Is summafullofbullshit a moderator?