Module 1 Writing Project – Final Draft Cburghardt PW 6005 3, May 2014 the Transformation of Shame in a Town’S Absolution: the Donnelly Massacre

Burghardt 1 Module 1 Writing Project – Final Draft CBurghardt PW 6005 3, May 2014 The Transformation of Shame in a Town’s Absolution: The Donnelly Massacre Farewell we meet no more on this side of heaven. The heartfelt parting scene is o’er; the last sad look is given. May their souls rest in peace. ~Verse written by Patrick Donnelly for original Donnelly tombstone. Today if you take a drive down the Roman Line north of St. Patrick`s Cemetery outside of Lucan, Ontario, the gravel road leads out of town toward a succession of commodity farms, rural homesteads, and pastures of grazing cattle. There’s no hint of the tragedy that occurred on this road more than 130 years ago; the view is serene and the air is fresh. The passage of time has transformed the rugged dirt path into well-travelled county road. Great expanses of fertile farmlands have replaced forest groves that once dotted the rural landscape. Summer breezes, burgeoning crops and the sweet smell of freshly cut alfalfa grasses drift across the landscape reminiscent of the early days when newly arrived settlers would cultivate the soil, plant corn and bale acres of hay for their livestock. Often I take the horse out for a ride along the shoulder of the Roman Line as we make for the abandoned rail-line trail. A leisurely ride on a warm summer’s eve begins like many others. As the last vestiges of a hot, muggy day give way to a welcome breeze and the song of cicadas, we pick up a brisk trot. Before long, we’ve crossed Fallon line and my horse begins to sweat. He’s edgy. Maybe it’s the warm night, there could be small animal hiding in a thicket ahead or perhaps it’s the anxiety that creeps in every time we pass the Donnelly Homestead. Does he sense it too? Burghardt 2 There’s a voice in my head that implores me, don’t forget us, pass by, but don’t forget. I mutter out loud, don’t worry, I won’t. As we turn for home, I shake my head. Am I talking to myself to allay apprehension or do I just feel guilty? I think it’s a bit of both. My horse seems to be in better spirits. His ears are perked forward and I feel relieved. What I do know is that I passed by where a family died a tortuous death. While I can’t bring them justice, I can honour their memory by educating others about the truth of what happened. Clouds were full and ominous and the wind seemed particularly fierce the cold morning of January 15, 1880. The Donnelly sons were attending a winter wedding that morning at the Keefe farm. They were good friends to the Keefe family and looked forward to the festivities. The Donnellys escaped the brisk, biting air and entered the warmth of the Keefe barn where fiddle music played, liquor flowed and villagers danced in celebration. As jubilant partygoers exalted in the excess of food and drink, they were interrupted by news that Biddulph Peace Society member Patrick Ryder’s barn and outbuildings burnt to the ground. Rumors flew, surely fueled by the wind and the flames, and soon enough the Donnellys were accused of setting the fire to intimidate the society members. Ryder claimed Johannah Donnelly had told Mrs. Whalen not to worry about it, “Don’t be afraid. The fire will not spread over here, for we noted the direction of the wind before it was set!” 1 After hearing Ryder relay the rumor, William Casey, a Peace Society member and magistrate issued a warrant for the arrest of James and Johannah Donnelly for aiding and 1 McKeowan (14). Burghardt 3 abetting arson. The Donnellys posted bail and returned home. A trial date was set for February 4, 1880. Curiously enough, the trial was postponed three times because the prosecution insisted it needed more time to prepare the case and collect evidence. When it became clear the Donnelly’s would likely win the case, the Peace Society decided to take the matter into their own hands and exact their own brand of justice, (or so the story goes). More than two weeks passed and it’s now the eve of the Donnelly trial, February 3, 1880. James Donnelly, his son Tom, and the neighbour boy Johnny O’Connor, arrive at the homestead. Johnny’s going to take care of the farm tomorrow while the Donnellys attend the arson trial five kilometres away in Granton. After supper, John Donnelly heads over to his brother William’s home in Whalen Corners to pick up a cutter (a horse-drawn sled), for their trip to Granton in the morning. Darkness falls, the flames in the fireplace flicker down to ebbing coals and the Donnellys retire to their sleeping quarters. James shares a bed with young Johnny, niece Bridget sleeps with Johannah, and Tom retires to a bedroom next to the kitchen. Shortly after 12:30 a.m. on the morning of February 4, 1880, the rampage began. Forty men, liquored up and full of vengeful thoughts, set out from their clandestine meeting place (the Cedar Swamp Schoolhouse), on their way to the Donnelly homestead. Dressed in various disguises and equipped with farm tools, rifles and clubs, the vigilante group was on a mission with a terrifying intent. The vigilante mob arrives at the Donnelly farmhouse and immediately dispatches members of the group to take positions around the homestead to prevent escape. The Burghardt 4 house is dark; the only sound comes from the snoring slumber of its occupants. Constable James Carroll creeps into kitchen and sees Tom Donnelly asleep in bed. With as much haste and dexterity as he can muster, Carroll slips a pair of handcuffs on the sleeping man. Tom Donnelly wakes up, starts thrashing around frantically with his bound hands. Carroll tells Tom Donnelly he’s there to serve a warrant but can’t seem to produce it when asked. “All right,” proclaims Tom. “Read me the warrant!” He demands. “There’s lots of time for that,” Carroll falters and immediately lets out a shout, signally the mob to mobilize. By this time James, Johannah and Bridget Donnelly wake up, light some candles and ignite the woodstove. Carroll and Tom Donnelly begin shouting at each other, the argument heats up and Tom makes for the front door where a pitchfork plunges into his stomach by the hand of Thomas Ryder. The commotion escalates as the rest of the mob storms into the house. James Mayer Sr. clubs James to death; Timothy Toohey and Patrick Quigley grab Tom Donnelly and drag him back inside where James Toohey finishes him off with a spade to the head. Meanwhile, Johannah Donnelly starts shrieking, “A moment to pray,”2 she begs. James Carroll offers no mercy, “Pray, you bitch,” 3 Carroll mocks. “You’ve prayed too long already.” And with that he beats Johannah as she desperately tries to crawl out the front door. Bridget runs upstairs to an upper bedroom where she is later 2 Fazakas (247) 3 Fazakas (247) Burghardt 5 beaten and left to die as the perpetrators set fire to the home. During the entire slaughter James Donnelly’s little dog is yelping feverishly. In a final act of terror, a mob member with deliberate malice, promptly walks over to the dog and clubs it over the head. John Purtell then takes his axe and chops off the dog’s head and kicks across the floor. While this grisly scene is enacted, young Johnny O’Connor is hiding under James Donnelly’s bed. Peering out from his hiding spot he sees a few familiar faces, hears the scuffle of handcuffs dragging on the floor, the sound of savage beatings and wailing victims. At one point O’Connor makes eye contact with Carroll, freezes and the two gaze at each other for a moment. Carroll seems to dismiss the presence of the young boy and goes about his torture. Under the bed, O’Connor hears the sound of coal oil being poured on the blanket above him. A flame is struck and the Donnelly homestead is consumed by fire. Terrified and coughing from the thick acrid smoke consuming the house, Johnny O’Connor abandons the cloak of his hiding space and stumbles into the kitchen where he trips over Johanna’s body and sees the severed head of James Donnelly’s little dog near the stove. O’Connor leaps out the front door, runs down the laneway toward the neigbouring farm of Patrick Whalen. But the calamity isn’t over yet. Young Johnny reaches safety and is harboured by the Whalens and as he is being comforted, yet another attack occurs. The mob arrives at the home of William Donnelly, knocks on the door and shoots John Donnelly twice in the open doorway. Thinking they had got their man (they intended to kill William Donnelly), they take a few moments to compose themselves outside and leave. During their brief pause, William Donnelly is able to peer from a Burghardt 6 darkened window to identify James Carroll, John Kennedy, Martin McLaughlin, Mike Heenan, William Carrol and Patrick Ryder, Jr. The massacre has come to an end and now the finality of the horror beckons as the crisp morning dawn casts its first morning rays on the ashes of the Donnelly homestead. The news spreads quickly. Sometime during the early morning hours, looters come. They pluck skull fragments and bone chips from the smoldering ash.

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