Bloody Sunday, 1920 - Killing & Dying in the Irish Revolution
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Published by Century Ireland, October 2020 Bloody Sunday, 1920 - Killing & Dying in the Irish Revolution By Mark Duncan It was the storm after a comparative calm. It followed one of the quietest weeks in a year of escalating and brutal violence and in a month that had begun amidst the rising unrest that had been unleashed by the death on hunger strike in Brixton Prison, late the previous month, of Terence MacSwiney, Lord Mayor of Cork. Then, in one 48-hour period, Dublin Castle reported, 38 people had been violently killed and a further 79 wounded. Many were non-combatants and the innocent dead and injured included women and children. It was, the authorities confirmed in its routinely grim round-up of weekly events, a ‘weekend of tragic awfulness without parallel in Irish history since the Rebellion week of 1916’.1 As with the rebellion, the killing had been heavily concentrated in Dublin. Unlike the events of Easter four years previously, however, much of the killing on this occasion was done on a single day, if not all at once. On Sunday, November 21st, 1920, violent death in Dublin was delivered in three principal instalments: it began with a series of co-ordinated killings by the IRA of fourteen suspected British intelligence officers in their various lodgings, all bar one in a relatively compact network of streets on the south-side of the city; this was followed by the indiscriminate shooting of civilians attending a football match at the GAA’s Croke Park headquarters, where a further fourteen people were killed; and it ended within the confines of Dublin Castle, headquarters of the British administration in Ireland, where three men arrested the previous evening - Dublin IRA leaders Dick McKee and Peadar Clancy and civilian Conor Clune - were brutalised and killed in the custody of their captors. To observe that the events of ‘Bloody Sunday’ - as November 21st became known - fitted within what was then a well-established pattern where targeted IRA attacks were followed by British reprisals upon a civilian population would not be inaccurate, but it would be to obscure one key point. This day was different. For its brutality and sheer bloody theatre, it was, as historian Anne Dolan assessed, ‘quite unlike any other day in the Irish revolution’s calendar’.2 PRELUDE 1 UK National Archives, CO 904 168. ‘Survey for the state of Ireland issued by Dublin Castle for week ending 22 November, 1920.’ Weekly Summaries were issued by police headquarters to all barracks in Ireland for the information of the forces, Hamar Greenwood informed the House of Commons on December 1920. “The first issue was that of 13th August, 1920, and its publication has continued since”. Access Hansard at https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/written-answers/1920/nov/10/police-weekly-summary 2 Anne Dolan, ‘Killing and Bloody Sunday, November 1920’, The Historical Journal, Vol. 49, No. 3 (Sept., 2006), p. 790 Published by Century Ireland, October 2020 The Tipperary footballers travelled to Dublin on the day before the match. It was not a championship fixture, but a challenge game, arranged after the Tipperary men had essentially goaded the Leinster champions into it. Writing to the Freeman’s Journal newspaper, the Tipperary men had alleged that their apparent superiority as a footballing side had been somehow questioned by Dublin. The short letter to the editor ended with an effective call to a sporting duel: “We, therefore, challenge Dublin to a match on the first available date, on any venue and for any object.”3 Dublin accepted the challenge and the GAA’s Central Council fixed the date and venue for Sunday, November 21st at Croke Park. As to its ‘object’, the game was advertised as a benefit for an ‘injured gael’, though Jack Shouldice, the secretary of the Leinster Council, later described it as fundraiser for the Irish republican Prisoners Dependants Fund.4 There is no doubting that its purpose was both political and philanthropic. Shouldice had written on November 8th that the match was being organised in aid of the ‘D.B.’ (Dublin Brigade of the IRA), with 20% of receipts to be set aside for the benefit of Brian Houlihan, a player who had been injured in a Provincial match at the same venue the previous year and who was then still in the care of Richmond Hospital.5 Ballaghaderreen-born, but a former All-Ireland medal winner with Dublin, it was to Shouldice that the GAA entrusted organisational responsibility for the fixture. Shouldice, a veteran of the Easter Rising, was then a Lieutenant with the 1st Battalion of the IRA’s Dublin Brigade, and throughout this period he balanced his revolutionary commitments with his GAA duties. Overlapping memberships of the the GAA and the IRA during the war of independence were not exactly novel, but nor were they necessarily the norm. While Shouldice regarded the GAA as a ‘great recruiting ground’ for the IRB and later the Volunteers and the IRA, one academic estimate suggests that, for all that the GAA espoused a broad nationalist ethos and exhibited 3 Freeman’s Journal, 1 Nov.1920 4 Mark Reynolds, ‘The GAA and Irish Political Prisoners, 1916-23’, Gearóid Ó Tuathaigh, The GAA & Revolution in Ireland (2015) Endnotes, p. 291. Fundraisers for all sorts of causes, political and otherwise, were a feature of GAA activities. In October 1920, the month before Bloody Sunday, Dublin defeated 1919 All-Ireland champions Kildare in a benefit game organised by the Irish National Foresters for the munition workers’ strike fund. 5 DE/2/273, ‘Brian Houlihan, injured in Gaelic Athletic Association match at Croke Park, Dublin 1919’. Harry Colley claimed that when he and two other IRA men approached GAA officials’ at Croke Park about cancelling the game, they were told the match ‘ was a benefit match for one of the men of the 2nd Battalion who had been badly injured a few months previously, while acting as a steward for the G.A.A., in a fracas with some betting men and touts.’ See BMH WS 1687, Harry Colley, http://www.militaryarchives.ie/collections/online- collections/bureau-of-military-history-1913-1921/reels/bmh/BMH.WS1687.pdf . Meanwhile, in his BMH statement, Jack Shouldice recorded the ‘remarkable fact’ that in the aftermath of the horror of Bloody Sunday in Croke Park, he was able to recover all but one bag of receipts from the ticket sellers and was ‘able to hand over about £160 to the Volunteer Dependents Fund’. BMH WS 679 http://www.militaryarchives.ie/collections/online-collections/bureau-of-military-history-1913- 1921/reels/bmh/BMH.WS0679.pdf#page=30 Published by Century Ireland, October 2020 republican sympathies, its members accounted for only 0.0006 per cent of the IRA’s total active membership. The late Peter Hart would go so far as to observe that there was ‘little evidence to suggest a strong link between the two’ organisations.6 Of the Tipperary team that travelled to Dublin on November 20th, only two - Tommy Ryan from Tubrid, outside Cahir, who had served 3 months in Waterford Jail the previous year, and Michael Hogan from Grangemockler - were IRA men.7 Drawn from clubs across the county, the players boarded at various stations along the route to Dublin and it was only at Ballybrophy, when Hogan and three others transferred from a Kilkenny train, that the full complement was gathered. It was not long after when they were joined in their carriage by a contingent of soldiers from the Lincolnshire Regiment that had also boarded at Ballybrophy. According to Tommy Ryan’s account, a row erupted when Tipperary player Seán Brett reacted to ‘unseemly remarks’ the soldiers had passed to a priest to whom he was in conversation. Soon most of the players and soldiers were involved in a full-scale fracas. In his witness statement to the Bureau of Military History, Ryan delighted in recounting the enjoyment that he and his namesake, Jim Ryan, derived from ‘playing handball with half-a-dozen of these soldiers. When we finally had them all down for the count, we took two of them up and pitched them out through the carriage window.’8 Even if this was most likely a gilding of what actually occurred, it was not surprising in the circumstances that when the train pulled into Kingsbridge station in Dublin, the players feared that they would be met by police and military. No such welcoming party awaited them, but in the wake of the events the following day the press would report that ‘a band of assassins had come up from Tipperary to carry out the shootings in Dublin on the Sunday.’9 The Tipperary footballers were nothing of the sort. Still, after the events on the train, it was decided that rather than proceed, as planned, to spend the night before their match at Barry’s Hotel on Gardiner Place, the players would scatter across several hotels in the city. As it happened, Tommy Ryan and Michael Hogan, the two IRA men on the team, went together to spend the night at Phil Shanahan’s pub on Foley Street. It was at Shanahan’s that they caught wind of plans 6 Peter Hart, The IRA at War, 1916-1923 (2003) p. 55. Cited also in Mike Cronin, ‘The GAA in a Time of Guerilla War and Civil Strife, 1918-23’, in Gearóid Ó Tuathaigh, The GAA & Revolution in Ireland (2015) p. 156 7 Ryan was arrested the day after the Soloheadbeg ambush on 22 January 1919 and was sentenced to three months in Waterford Jail.