Builders Remembered - July 2013 edition of The Harp

A BBC Panorama programme of November 1961 reported that 47 out of 50 men performing the most dangerous work on a building site in London were Irish. A BBC interviewer asked Irish builders on the site what they thought of the proposed Commonwealth Immigrants Act which was being discussed in response to a perceived influx of immigrants. The Act would place a limit on those who could migrate to the UK and the responses of the interviewees included one man who said:

“Well seeing it’s the English man’s country, one must give him a great deal of latitude in deciding who he admits or bars”.

This gentleman’s eloquence and diplomacy may have knocked the wind out of the sails of our man from the BBC who went on to ask the same man whether tales of “hooliganism amongst the Irish” were justified. The reply was just as eloquent “well that’s something I have often felt strongly about, everyone notices the drunken Irish man who picks a row outside a pub, but the dozen fellows who walk quietly along the street? Nobody says ‘he’s an Irishman’ ”.

In more recent times, the massive contribution of Irish labour in constructing Britain’s roads and cities is finally being acknowledged officially, especially at the local authority level, going beyond the traditional stereotypes of the hard working though wildly behaving navvy with his shovel in one hand and pint of stout in the other. But the full extent of this contribution may probably remain hidden or best explored through personal anecdote and community history.

Whilst sociologists such as E.P. Thompson in his esteemed study The Making of the English Working Class describes how 19^th century bosses preferred to use Irish labourers in places like the Liverpool docks as they worked twice as hard as their English peers and for half the pay, there are contemporary studies which suggest that it is a misconception to suggest that the navvies who constructed our railways, roads and canals during the past two hundred years were predominantly Irish and therefore Irish workers were often wrongly blamed in the public consciousness for ‘disturbances and minor-riots’ when the blame actually lay with the wider navvy community.

In 1831 a railway engineer named Peter Lecount said of navvies: 'These banditti, known in some parts of England by the name of "Navvies" or "Navigators", and in others that of "Bankers", are generally the terror of the surrounding country: they are as complete a class by themselves as the Gipsies. Possessed of all the daring recklessness of the Smuggler, without any of his redeeming qualities, their ferocious behaviour can only be equalled by the brutality of their language. It may be truly said, their hand is against every man, and before they have been long located, every man's hand is against them.”  

There is also a suggestion that immeasurable numbers of Irish labourers weren’t always keen to register themselves in official UK registration records, such as employment, census or polling records. A frustrating tendency for government officials and social historians alike, though for different reasons.

Many readers of The Harp will be personally acquainted with the lot of the Irish labourer and construction worker in the West Midlands. My grandfather James Lawlor arrived in England from Dublin in the late 1930s and headed to the docks in Kent where he had heard there was work. James spent many months sleeping in the open and recalled, like so many others, the proverbial signs on lodging houses at that time reading “No Irish or dogs”. He eventually came to Birmingham where he found permanent employment as a foreman in a foundry.

In a local history book written in 1984 by Brendan Ward, Builders Remembered, the author provides a wealth of memories and anecdotes about his life on building sites in England and the men he worked alongside. In his book Brendan Ward wrote:

“Building in England is carried out mainly by Irishmen. It is a very strenuous occupation. Most Englishmen and other nationalities shun it like a plague. Men work out in all weathers. They are not deterred by a drop of rain, a fall of snow or a skiff of frost. They earn very high wages in comparison with people in other industries. They have no effective trade union, neither do they seek one. They drink heavily. They come from every walk of life. They all had one thing in common and that was home. Despite the fact they spent forty years in England, each yearned to return for good. To most it was a dream, to a few it was a reality”.

Apart from such rare gems as Brendan Ward’s delightful book of anecdotes and the valuable oral history work of our own Professor Carl Chinn, the story of the Irish builder in Britain remains largely untapped. As always I would encourage all readers of The Harp to start putting pen to paper and fingers to keyboard. Record those memories and send them in to us at The Harp.

What do you think Irishness means to people in the West Midlands? Tell us your story in The Harp.

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The consequencies of the famine - the influence of the Irish in America

From Ireland - a Concise History by Maire and Conor Cruise O'Brien
Thames & Hudson, 1972

The famine is the great dividing-line in modern Irish history. Before it, Ireland had been a country of notably early marriages; after it, late marriages are the rule, and the most conspicuous social feature of contemporary Ireland. The only method of birth control practicable in Catholic Ireland was being applied. There was a change in language also. Before the famine Ireland was to a great extent Irish-speaking; after it, English was soon spoken almost everywhere, except in some parts of the western seaboard. One may also feel that there was a certain change in the character of the people. The picture of a happy-go-lucky Irishman may well have been partly mythical - like its Negro equivalent - but seems to contain some truth for, say, the contemporaries of O'Connell. After the famine one senses a new quality , something grimmer and tougher, among the survivors and their children, the Irish of the later nineteenth century.

The political consequences of this were not to e felt in full for another generation: until the children who experienced the famine and immediate post-famine years had reached maturity, in Ireland and in America. The great new factor in Irish politics was to be the growth of this Irish community in America - for a long time it remained more Irish than American. Poor as it remained by American standards, by Irish standards it was soon rich and it was generous in support of any movement for Irish independence that looked at all promising. This new factor was to bring about a great weakening of England's control over Ireland. From now on, as an English Home secretary was to complain in the stormy 1880s, an important section of the perennially rebellious Irish nation was 'out of reach'.

With the increase of the relative importance of America in world politics, the Irish in America, with their well-organized voting strength, could begin to apply pressure on Britain through their own government. By the 1920s, the government of Lloyd George could no more afford to ignore the Irish in New York, in relation to implementation of its policy in Ireland than Ernest Bevin at a later date could ignore the reaction of the Jews of New York to his policy in Palestine.

The famine may not have been a threat to the security of England, but it carried within itself the seeds of the destruction of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

The early Irish monks

Lindisfarne - photo credit National Trust Images

The Irish have a habit of leaving Ireland, and the early monks were no exception: in the sixth century the country's chief export seems to have been saints. Their itching feet took them trudging farther and farther from home, until soon they were founding Celtic monasteries as far away as Switzerland and Italy. The first step had been across the Irish sea to Iona, an island off the west coast of Scotland, where St Columba settled in about 563 with twelve monks, echoing the twelve disciples. An island near to the land was still their ideal choice for a monastery, and when Celtic monks later came down from Scotland into Northumbria they found somewhere which seemed perfect - Lindisfarne, also known because of the monks as Holy Island. At high tide it is an island. At low tide you can walk ashore. What would be better for a monk who is both in and out of the world?

Even before Lindisfarne was founded, Irish monks had spread deep into Europe, far from the sea and the safety of islands. In about 590 another party of twelve set sail from Ireland to France. They landed not knowing what was ahead of them, and offering a brand of Christianity that was singularly strict. Yet their success was astonishing. One of the party, Gall or Gallus, reached what is now Switzerland before he found a cave that suited him. A flourishing Swiss town now stands at the place and bears his name: St Gall. The leader of the group, St Columban, went even farther and crossed the Alps. An Italian place-name, Mezzano Scotti, still commemorates the distant time when the Irish were there - and when, to the eternal confusion of schoolboys, the people who lived in Ireland were called Scots. It is near Bobbio, where St Columban established his final monastery. Nothing remains of the monastery today, and even in its own time it was something of an impertinence. Bobbio was only a few hundred miles north of Rome. And the pope in Rome had already launched a counter-offensive, sending monks of his own north and west as the Irishmen moved south and east.

The Christians / Bamber Gascoigne / Book Club Associates 1977
 

The Irish Americans

There are some forty million Irish Americans in the United States of America, descendants of those who, over the past four centuries, crossed the Atlantic in successive waves of emigrations.

Life in America was rarely easy and many of the new immigrants fell by the wayside; but eventually they achieved a standard of living unimaginable in the world they had left behind. Over the generations they rose to the highest positions in politics, the labour movement, the professions, industry, commerce and the arts, and their very numbers made them a powerful political force.

Yet more than any other ethnic group, the Irish nurture a great nostalgia for the 'Emerald Isle', their ancestral homeland.

From the Introduction to The Irish Americans - The Pitkin Guide with Irish American Heritage Trail in Ireland

The Ulster Scots

During the first half of the 1700s, over 250,000 people from Ulster settled in the English colonies of America. The new immigrants from Ulster found the land around the ports already densely populated and, of necessity, had to press on inland into the difficult territory of the Appalachian back country.

The Ulster Scots, as Presbyterians, were dissenters, who sailed from Ireland following the introduction of Penal Laws by the Protestant Irish parliament established after the victory of William of Orange in 1690. 

Dissenters, like Catholics, were ruthlessly oppressed in Ireland during this period, so in their thousands they sold their leases and their stock and set sail for America.

By the 1770s there were 123 Ulster settlements in America. The Ulster Presbyterians were known for their skill of linen production.

The Declaration of Independence on 4 July 1776 was signed by five men of Ulster stock and their descendants were to produce ten Presidents of the United States.

Builders Remembered

Part of the introduction to a book written by Brendan Ward in 1984

Building in England is carried out mainly by Irishmen. It is a very strenuous occupation. Most Englishmen and other nationalities shun it like a plague. Men work out in all weathers. They are not deterred by a drop of rain, a fall of snow or a skiff of frost. They earn very high wages in comparison with people in other industries. They have no effective trade union, neither do they seek one. They drink heavily. They come from every walk of life. I met men who were teachers, priests, accountants, who had forsaken their professions in Ireland and gone to England to work on the buildings. I met men who could not write their names. I met men who were gentle as lambs and those who surpassed a pig for ignorance. There were gentle giants and small cranky men. There were those who became rich and those who never had a bob. A man had to be hard to fit into the gang. There was much respect for the one who drank beer by the gallon - the one who did not was treated as the exception and classified as inferior. There were men who were masters of their craft and those who never will be. There were men who improved their lot and those who never will. The categories are legion. I worked with them, argued with them, annoyed them. I played cards and replyed matches with them.

They all had one thing in common and that was home. Despite the fact they spent forty years in England, each yearned to return for good. To most it was a dream, to a few it was a reality. Their big earnings were oftentimes squandered at weekends. The gambler never learned, the heavy drinker seldom laid off. Learning was scoffed at. Arguments were many and some would accept any type of illogic as gospel, even though it was shit to the highest degree. There were men from all parts of Ireland. The one from Connemara was famous for his use of the scian, his counterpart from Dublin was fond of gang warfare. The men from Kerry were all supposed to be tall because they craned their necks as young lads to get a look into Cork over the Magillicuddy reeks. The men from the Midlands were all mad about horses because, it was said, some of them were born on their way to hospital on a nag's back. The men from Donegal were reputed to be the best tunnellers in the world because land was so scarce they had to burrow into the ground to hide themselves and the poitin from the cops.
    
In a discussion one night with my very good friend and mentor, Brendan Murphy, we came to the conclusion that a book could written about them all. I decided there and then to do just that.

About the Irish census

The census is the closest thing we have to stepping into our ancestors' homes

Most (but not quite all) material from the earlier Irish censuses has been destroyed, some accidentally by fire, while others were pulped during the First World War. Some were deliberately destroyed shortly after they were taken, possibly to preserve privacy once the necessary statistics had been extracted. However, the 1901 and 1911 censuses survive almost in their entirety and are now available to view online on the National Archives of Ireland website (www.census.nationalarchives.ie).

The 1901 Irish census recorded address; name; relationship to head of household; religion; whether each person could read and write; age; occupation; marital status; place of birth and whether English or Irish was spoken. Questions were also asked about the house itself: the materials from which the house and the roof were built, the number of rooms and windows, whether there were outhouses, and the overall class of the property. Researchers can build a clear picture of the domestic situation and relative wealth or poverty of their ancestors, as well as spot any change for better or worse.

The 1911 census additionally asked married women to declare the number of years of the current marriage, the number of children born alive within the marriage and the number of these children still living.

Watch out!

Don't be distracted by crossings out on your census returns and discount potentially crucial details. These were made as data was counted and do not mean that the information is wrong.