At eight o’clock in the morning, my mother burst into my bedroom waving a telegram.
‘You have got a County Scholarship! You have to go to Dublin straight away!’
It was late October 1957. I had applied for a scholarship from Offaly County Council to study architecture in UCD but when the new term opened at the beginning of the month and I had no word I presumed that my Leaving Cert results simply weren’t good enough and had given up hope. Being an unemployed widow there was no way my mother could have found the money for fees and digs. A scholarship – of which there were only six- was my only hope.
At the last moment a student brighter than I had pulled out and I was next on the list. However, the offer had to be taken up that very day or else would be withdrawn. My mother thrust the telegram and three pounds into my hands and I raced to the station and caught the train to Dublin.
At Kingsbridge I got a taxi to the offices of the National University of Ireland in Merrion Square. My telegram from the Council was carefully scrutinised and to my great relief I was told that I was accepted but would have to be interviewed by the Professor of the School of Architecture who would have the final say. A call was made and I was told to race across to Earlsfort Terrace where Professor Desmond FitzGerald would interview me at one o’clock.
It was plainly obvious from the moment I entered his office that the Professor was unenthusiastic about my joining the course. I had already missed two weeks of projects and lectures and would never catch up, he said. Might it not be better if I used my scholarship to do an Arts degree. Anyway, why did I want to study architecture?
Then, as now, fashionable weddings get a lot of press attention. Michael F. Gorry was the great grandfather of Francis (Francie) Gorry whose family had the famous newsagency shop in Harbour Street, Tullamore for over 100 years. Michael F. Gorry was the first person to be buried in the new Catholic cemetery in Clonminch in 1893. The report of a wedding on 31 July 1891 was published in the Midland Tribune on 8 August and no doubt created a stir in Tullamore. The style of the report was that of the kind carried in the Birr Protestant and unionist King’s County Chronicle, a then hated rival of the Midland Tribune, and might have been related to Gorry’s being the agent for the Birr Chronicle in Tullamore. One James Joyce also used this style to describe fashionable bourgeois occasions is his Ulysses (published in 1922).
One of the saddest events in Tullamore history was the destruction of the 1906 Church of the Assumption by fire in the early hours of 31 October 1983. By morning all that remained was a burnt-out shell and the spire which survived. It is ironic that in the opening of Heritage Week 2026 Tullamore is also marking the 40th anniversary of the opening of the new and third church on the same site at Harbour and Chapel Street, Tullamore. Another example of the Phoenix at work in Tullamore over the past 250 years.
The new Catholic church, Tullamore completed for 15 August 1986.The interior of the 1906-83 church
The background to the fire was well documented in several publications and resulted from a break-in and carelessness in not reporting a small fire that had been started by the lighting of a candle near a confessional curtain after the church had been closed and locked at 8.30 p.m. By 2.00 a.m. the building was gutted and gone with it were all the improvements since the late 1960s including the great refurbished organ and the well varnished pitch pine. It was a great tragedy for the parish.
The detail from the west front of the Hague McNamara church of 1906. This picture probably early 1906.Chapel St and the church in 1977. Courtesy of Oliver Connolly.
The building was deemed too unsafe to permit investigation of the causes of the fire, and as a result important and never-to-be replaced architectural features were taken down. Whether the stone could have been salvaged was contested by at least one architectural historian. The question of building a second church in Tullamore, which had been on the agenda in some shape since the mid-1960s, was now solved by a decision to build a new and larger church on the existing site in keeping, in so far as this was possible, with the old church. Edward N. Smith and Partners, architects, were selected by the then parish priest, Fr Fallon, to design the new church (there was no competition).
Fr Fallon took charge of the operation to built the new church.The historic first mass in the new church was celebrated on Saturday 9 August at 10.00 am. It was a deeply emotional occasion for the parishioners and clergy. Parishioners bade farewell on the previous Sunday to the temporary mass centres of almost three years standing in the case of Vocational School, St Mary’s Hall and the Tullamore Harriers, and seven years in respect of the G.A.A. centre. Fr Fallon’s first words on the Saturday morning ‘My dear people of Tullamore, Welcome Home’
The architect’s brief was to re-build the church in such a way as to ‘retain or regain as much as possible of the character of the old church but in a modern idiom’. This was next to impossible to achieve. He reused much of the old stonework especially on the Chapel Street side and went for a contemporary interior. What was lost of the Gothic exterior and interior was replaced in the self-finished timber ceilings and laminated structural frames of the interior. Full restoration of the exterior was not possible on expense grounds in the 1980s.
Miss Fallon of Robbins Limited and a friend – all great church people of the 1900s to the 1980s
John Dunne (Sacristan) and Mrs Dunne at retirement. He opened the church at 7 30 Mon to Friday and at 6 a.m. on Good Fridays.
For many the most attractive feature of the new church was the warm and modern interior with its timber spans. John Flanagan & Sons Limited, the Tullamore-based building firm, was appointed builders and work began in October 1984 and was completed for the opening of the present and third church on the Harbour Street site in August 1986. For almost three years masses were said at the Tullamore GAA Centre, Tullamore Vocational School gym, Scoil Mhuire, Tullamore Harriers Pavilion and St Mary’s Hall. Weddings were generally in Durrow and a few were held in St Catherine’s Church of Ireland church.
William Ralph
Fundraising for the new building had started almost immediately after the fire and a sum of £700,000 was raised through donations, raffles and special events. The chairman of the Finance Committee was William Ralph, who was a corporate director of the Williams Group. The experience of Williams trained directors and managers would benefit not only Tullamore Parish but also Tullamore Credit Union and could be seen in the shrewd management of money. A sum of £2.85m was eventually paid by the state in settlement of the malicious damages claim and part of this amount had, in the meantime, been advanced by the insurer, Church & General. That sum combined with the donations earned for the parish over £600,000 in investment income. Ralph believed in working from cash flow and in trying to maintain capital and use interest to fund projects. It worked because some of the more expensive stonework features were not restored and as result the parish was left with about £1m which was placed in a Trust Fund for the ongoing maintenance of the new church. In the mid-1990s the High Court confirmed that the money could only be used for this specific purpose which accorded with the intention of the donors and could not be called on to fund broader charitable proposals. The Trust Fund has continued to benefit Tullamore parish in that way and is managed by local trustees with the benefit of professional advice.
Donation of an organ by the Lutheran church in Copenhagen
In 1994 a sum of £90,000 was paid from the Trust for the installation of the organ donated by the Lutheran cathedral church in Copenhagen. The organ was built by one of the world’s leading organ building firms, Th. Frobenius of Lyngby (Copenhagen), in 1965 for the great cathedral church of Denmark’s capital city. The organ obviously needed a new case to fit the gallery dimensions of Tullamore’s fine new church. This was designed and built by the Frobenius firm with the work carried out by a team of three Frobenius craftsmen. The net result was that Tullamore now has the largest mechanical action church organ in Ireland, and the sole example in the country of the Frobenius firm’s renowned skill and craftsmanship. The organ was inaugurated in a gala concert on 10 May, 1995. Tullamore’s requirements for an organ at that time and their request to Prof. Gerard Gillen, NUI Maynooth, to assist them in securing an instrument, brought about a remarkable series of coincidences which resulted in the organ’s installation in Tullamore in the latter months of 1994. A Tullamore International Summer Organ Series (TISOS) of concerts was inaugurated in 1999 and has continued since. This series would not be possible without the help of Professor Gillen.
Fr Fallon and his team of curates
While in a sense things worked out well Tullamore lost its Hague-McNamara designed church of 1906 and the strain of the decision-making over three years affected the health of Fr Fallon and he died just three years later, aged 70, in 1989.
During his time in Tullamore Fr Fallon had among his curates some very popular men. He had the benefit of John Charles O’Reilly until his transfer in 1981 and also of Edward Daly who was a curate in Tullamore from 1970 to 1979. Fr Daly was later transferred to Kilcormac as parish priest. Seamus Giles (later PP in Castletown, d. 2013) was a curate in the Tullamore parish from 1965 to 1974 and was popular with young people because of his easy way of connecting with the trends of the late 1960s and 1970s. Another man who had a lot of experience of Tullamore was Joe Gleeson who had been a curate for a short time in 1958 and again from 1966 to 1976. A native of Kilcormac parish he was transferred at about the same time as Fr Fallon was appointed to Tullamore. Fr Colm Savage was in the parish from 1972 to 1983 and worked closely with the Tullamore Vocational School.
Probably best known in the late 1970s and early 1980s was Michael Lynn. He had been in Peru for ten years and had a close affinity with the ordinary person, and the Travellers at the several halting sites. This was helped by his cycling about the town in a leisurely way, something that gave him more immediate contact with parishioners than is possible in a motor car. He was curate in the parish of Tullamore from 1975 to 1986. His commitment to the social dimension of the Church mission found another outlet as a member of the Education Committee of the Tullamore Credit Union. In this he was unusual as unlike in other places in Ireland this important local organisation had no other clerical activist since the days of Fr Fintan Cassidy as a founding director (1963-64). Fr Lynn celebrated twenty-five years as a priest in 1985 and told those present that in the large class from which he was ordained in June 1960 62 were still in the priesthood. ‘The man on the bike’ the Tullamore Tribune called him when he departed Tullamore to serve as PP in Duleek in 1988.
Fr Sean McGearty spent ten years in Tullamore from 1979 to 1989. He was on loan from Adelaide, Australia and during his time in Tullamore made a singular contribution to the development of family history in Ireland through his appreciation of the importance of the Catholic parish registers and the need to index and conserve them. He was the inspiration for the setting up of the Offaly Historical and Archaeological Society family history project which in the 1980s was the host for the country-wide development of the Irish Family History Society and the Irish Family History Foundation. He made a valuable photographic record of the course of building of the new church over the period 1984 to 1986. His colleague, Fr Tom Mullen, came to Tullamore in the same year as Fr McGearty and from late 1983 to 1985 led the fundraising drive for the new church. He was appointed as parish priest of Kilcormac in 1985. Fr Philip O’Connor served in the parish from 1984 to 1988 as did Fr David Hanratty from 1984 to 1985. In the year before Fr Fallon’s death, Fr Dermot Farrell, was appointed to the parish and remained for two years. His forte was in administration and he went on to serve as vice-president and president of Maynooth College and later as parish priest of Trim. He is now Archbishop of Dublin.
John Flanagan, the builder, looking at work on the old Ballyduff Catholic church of 1775.
The 1850s was the decade of the Great Exhibitions. The London Crystal Palace Exhibition in 1851 was followed by Dublin and New York in 1853 and Paris in 1855. In Ireland there were regional/city exhibitions including in Cork (1852). It must be remembered that Ireland was still struggling to emerge from the disaster of the Great Famine.
The Great Industrial Exhibition of 1853 was the most ambitious exhibition ever held in Ireland up to that time. Staged in Dublin from 12 May to 31 October 1853, it was inspired by the famous Great Exhibition in London and was intended to showcase industry, technology, art, and manufacturing while encouraging economic development in Ireland. One of the developments of partcular interest was to copy the emergnce of Monster Houses (department stores) that began to appear in cities throughout Western Europe and the USA from the 1840s.
The exhibition aimed to move Ireland away from solely agricultural production towards industrialisation, promoting a shift toward Victorian consumer culture.
[Congratulations to Birr Historical Society on the reprint of Cooke’s first book on Birr published in 1826 and launched on 5 August 2026. Ed.]
The Groome Family of Knockdrin and Garr in the Heart of Uíbh Fhailí
Introduction
Nestled on the frontier of the ancient kingdom of Uíbh Fhailí, beneath the shadow of Croghan Hill, lies the historic townland of Knockdrin—a place long known as the “Hill of Conflict.” For centuries, this landscape formed part of the heartland of Gaelic Offaly, where kings ruled, battles were fought, and generations of ordinary families worked the land and built their lives.
Like many Irish families, the history of the Groomes was preserved through seanchas, the ancient Irish tradition of storytelling. Long before history was written in books, it was carried in memory. Stories of ancestors, local events, victories, hardships and family life were passed from one generation to the next around the warmth of the turf fire by the seanchaí (traditional storyteller), ensuring that the history of a family and its community would never be forgotten.
A new study of Offaly’s two Great Houses at Birr and Charleville, Tullamore just published
Two of the great houses of Ireland, are here in County Offaly at Birr and Tullamore. Both regularly feature in articles and magazine stories. Birr Castle much more so as it has been the family home of the Parsons family, earls of Rosse, since the 1620s. The present earl and his wife from the death of the sixth earl in 1979, have worked for almost fifty years to promote the castle and gardens for the benefit for tourism and build on the enthusiasm of the sixth earl to create a science museum commemorating the work of the third and fourth earls and that of Charles Parsons, the engineer who helped win the First World War. Both earls worked tirelessly for the gardens at Birr Castle.
In the lead up to the feast day of Saint Colm Cille on 9 June we are glad to have this article thanks to Rachel Moss, Professor in the History of Art and Architecture, Trinity College, Dublin and author of The Book of Durrow, London, Thames and Hudson (2018), Blog Editor.
The long and eventful life of the Book of Durrow. By Rachel Moss. Blog no. 799, http://www.offalyhistoryblog. The Book of Durrow, a 1,300-year-old manuscript of the four gospels associated with the ancient monastic site at Durrow Co. Offaly, is special for many reasons. It is the earliest surviving complete gospel book in northwest Europe; it contains exquisite full-pages of ornament that demonstrate knowledge of current art styles in Ireland, Britain, Roman Europe and Coptic Egypt; it is one of the earliest examples of perfectly executed ‘Insular’ script that was to become the hallmark of Irish art for the following centuries and it is thought to be the work of a single scribe. Most significant of all, is the fact that it has survived, in near perfect condition, for such a long time
23 May 2026 Saturday, Tour of Shannonbridge depart at 10 a.m. from Offaly History Centre (let us know if you can share or need a lift). To meet at Shannonbridge at the Old Fort across the Bridge at 11 a.m. Our guide is Declan Ryan. Starting with coffee, followed by tours of the forts, the river and the town. To conclude about 1.30 p.m. with lunch at Killeen’s (you need to book this yourself). This is an excellent venue so why not make it a day out and bring the family and friends. Declan will be an excellent guide Note Sturdy Footwear required for uneven ground and long wet grass. And on Friday evening in Banagher….
TALK ON ARMSTRONG FAMILY HISTORY 22 May 5 p.mby Eduardo M. Garcia Fernandez Saenz from Buenos Aires
Local history enthusiasts are in for a real treat next week when Eduardo M. Garcia Fernandez Saenz from Buenos Aires will give an important talk on his Armstrong ancestors, in particular Thomas St. George Armstrong who was born in Garrycastle, Banagher, in 1797. At the early age of twenty Thomas went to Argentina and between then and his death in 1875 he became a very successful businessman, married into aristocratic society and also became an adviser to the rulers of Argentina. The talk will be held in Crank House, Lower Main Street, Banagher at 5 p.m. on Friday 22nd May. The event is organised by Offaly History and all are welcome. Enquiries to James Scully at 085 710 7569.
This article is the sixth in a series on the stonecutters of Tullamore, particularly those associated with the limestone quarries of Ballyduff on the outskirts of the town.
When I began researching the quarries and the men who worked there, I thought I might find enough material for one or two articles. Instead, a much wider story has come to light—one shaped not only by local industry, but also by migration and opportunity.
One of the most striking features of that story is the number of stonecutters who, having learned their trade in Tullamore, chose to emigrate. This was not unusual in nineteenth-century Ireland, but what is interesting in this case is that many of these men were not driven by poverty. They had skills and could make a living at home. Even so, many chose to leave, drawn by the hope of a better future for themselves and their families.
Unlike most Irish emigrants of the time, most of the Tullamore stonecutters went to Australia, where they helped to build a growing society. Among them were members of the Jageurs family, whose story gives a good insight into this wider pattern.
I grew up on a small farm beside Lemanaghan Bog, and to this day I can still feel the rhythm of those summers spent wandering up and down the lane that led from our 150 year old farm house to the bog. It wasn’t just a lane, it was an enchanted corridor. The hedges were alive with native flora and fauna, and as children we were convinced there was something mystical about that stretch of road. Maybe it was the way the light filtered through the trees and hedges or the rustle of wings from creatures we could never quite see. Whatever it was, it shaped our imaginations long before we understood the world beyond it.
From the top of the lane, the view swept across the bog all the way to the Kinnitty Mountains which is what we called them then, though of course they are the Slieve Blooms. Their colour changed with the weather: soft blues on warm days, deep purples in the evenings, and that unmistakable dark, heavy shade that meant rain was on the way. Some days they felt close enough to touch, other days they drifted away like a dream. That shifting landscape was the backdrop of our childhood.
I was lucky, truly lucky, to grow up with my grandparents. Not everyone gets that gift. They filled our days with stories, traditions, and the kind of work that didn’t feel like work until you were old enough to realise it was. As a small children on the bog, we were more of a hindrance than a help, too busy chasing frogs, spotting bog lizards, or watching butterflies and dragonflies dance over the bog waters. If you had to go in evening, you would get ate alive by midges and it would cause great distress but of course knowing that they are a vital food source in a healthy ecosystem, was good reason enough to put up. It was magical, and we didn’t know it then, but those were the moments that would stay with us for life.
Of course, when you got older, the magic didn’t excuse you from the reality of saving turf. As the saying went, “If you want to keep your arse warm for the winter, you need to help save the turf.” At the time, I thought it was hardship. Other families didn’t have to go to the bog, and I envied them. But looking back now, I see it differently. Those balmy summer days, the laughter, the bottles of water buried in a bog hole to keep cool, the quiet companionship, they were some of the happiest times of my life.
A Landscape Layered with Time
What makes Lemanaghan truly extraordinary is not just its beauty or its wildlife, but the sheer depth of history held within its soil. This landscape is a tapestry woven from thousands of years of human presence — Mesolithic hunter‑gatherers, Neolithic farmers, early Christian monks, medieval pilgrims, and the families who still live here today. All of these eras sit side by side, layered gently through the bog, preserved in a way that few places in Ireland can match.
Across the bog, the old toghers still lie beneath the surface — wooden trackways built by our ancestors to cross the wetlands long before roads existed. Some date back to prehistory, others to the early Christian period. In recent years they’ve been called pilgrim paths or mass paths, but whatever name they carry, they are proof of continuous life, movement, and devotion across this landscape. These paths connect us to places of deep significance like Clonmacnoise and the Hill of Tara and are the only remaining paths from our past that we have. They need to be protected. Generations walked these routes with purpose: to travel, to worship, to trade, to survive. When you stand on the bog today, you are standing on the same ground they crossed.
One discovery in particular brought this ancient world sharply into focus. In 1998, part of a bog body was uncovered in the townland of Tumbeagh. It was a remarkable archaeological find — a direct connection to a person who lived and died here centuries or even millennia ago. Maybe a native to the are or a pilgrim who lost their way. But the circumstances of the discovery were a stark reminder of the cost of industrial peat extraction. The body was found during the milling of peat, and some of the remains had already been sent to a power station and burned as fuel before anyone realised what they were. It was heartbreaking, and it showed clearly that these peatlands are not wastelands or empty spaces waiting to be exploited. They are sacred ground, holding the stories and the bones of our ancestors, much like the recent discovery back in January 2025 at Mella’s Cell when storm Éowyn swept through the land and with it, it brought down trees in Mellas Cell. Yet another discovery was made. Human remains from over a thousand years ago were uncovered. This was the first time it was realised that this was in fact a sacred burial grounds. These ancient trees had managed to fall but avoided falling on the remaining structure of Mella’s Cell as luck would truly have it.
The Changing Bog
When Bord na Móna took over the bogs, the land began to shift in ways we didn’t fully understand at the time. Drains were cut long before harvesting began. My granddad was deeply uneasy about it. He knew — instinctively, from a lifetime on the land, that this kind of change wasn’t good for the landscape. But compulsory purchase orders came, and people had no choice. You accepted it and got on with it, because that’s what rural people did.
Over the years, natural springs and wells that had flowed for generations dried up. Water tables dropped. Getting water to cattle became a more difficult task. The land we knew began to alter under our feet. And yet, for many families, Bord na Móna meant jobs, stability, a way to support children. It was a trade-off that people felt they had to endure it seems.
But there were other consequences too. Fires on the bog were not unusual, especially during long hot spells. Many of them were never acknowledged by Bord na Móna, even when the community knew exactly how they had started. The most recent major fire in the late 2010s is still fresh in people’s minds. We were not long moved into our new house when it happened. Homes were filled with smoke, belongings destroyed, and yet when people reached out for help, nothing was done. That memory lingers — not just the damage, but the feeling of being dismissed.
A Community Under Threat Again
And now, here we are again.
The community around Lemanaghan Bog is facing another upheaval, this time in the form of a proposed wind farm: fifteen turbines, each 220 metres tall, right through the heart of the bog. People are angry, upset, and deeply worried. The consultation process felt deceitful from the start. A semi‑state body has enormous power, and they know it. They can pressure, divide, and buy silence. What was once a company rooted in community has become something unrecognisable, one determined in causing division and willing to fracture the very places and people it once relied on. These places have helped people heal in the greatest time of need and I can vouch for that personally. In times of grief, all one needs sometimes is solace and time to reflect and remember in peace. Lemanaghan Bog gives us all of that reminding us each of our life times are short and that we are connected through generations that went before us and their presence is still there it just appears in a different form. In that there is comfort.
For many of us, especially during COVID, the bog was our sanctuary. It was the one place we could walk freely, breathe deeply, and feel grounded. It is still the most peaceful place you could wander. But if the machinery comes — the diggers, the cranes, the convoys of lorries — that peace will be shattered. The wildlife that has survived generations of change will be displaced. The delicate ecology of the bog will be torn apart. And all the “surveys” carried out over a few rushed days here and there will never capture the depth of local knowledge that has been passed down through families like in our communities.
Our fear is simple: that once again, the people who live here — who love this place, who understand it — will be ignored. And if the project becomes inconvenient, BnM will simply sell it on, as they have done in other areas, leaving the community to deal with the consequences. There are some things that money simply can not buy and connection is one.
Growing up beside Lemanaghan Bog taught me the value of land, heritage, and memory. It taught me that these landscapes hold stories, and that communities are shaped by the places they belong to. What worries me now is that those stories — our stories rich in heritage— are at risk of being drowned out by decisions made far away by people who will never walk that enchanted lane or watch the Slieve Blooms change colour with the weather.
All we want is to protect the place that shaped us. You don’t need to be deeply religious or even believe in anything in particular, but when you have a deep connection with the land that you live upon, you just know that an area is not suitable for what is being forced upon it. I believe that our ancestors will rise to help us whether it is to show people that they need to lay off and choose more suitable places to build their energy plants. This is not suitable or natural place for industrial wind farms. We need to protect our peatlands.
