Hello, and welcome to this week’s issue of Ireland’s Own. This week we give a Seventieth Birthday Salute to the Irish Naval Service. From humble beginnings in the 1940s, Ireland’s Naval Service has grown into a fully confident and professional organisation and it can look back with pride at its achievements. Gerry Breen explains further.
The Brooklyn Bridge Story – this ‘marvel of engineering’ is a triumph of spirit over adversity. Read more inside this week’s issue.
Eddie Goggin reflects on the life and career of ‘Balladeer of Nostalgia’, Steve Conway, who was very popular in the immediate post-war years. Gerry Moran looks at the origin of the famous saying ‘As Happy As Larry’ and the life of the man who inspired it.
In his Role of the Irish in WW2 series, Con McGrath tells the story of Irish-American Michael Patrick Ryan, who was awarded the Navy Cross. June of this year marked the 150th anniversary of the death of John Lynch – ‘the Forgotten Fenian’ who was one of the first Fenians to die in an English prison when he succumbed to the harsh conditions of jail life at the age of 34, writes Pauline Murphy.
Denis Fahy looks at some of the people and events linking Ireland and South Africa, and Ronán Gearóid Ó Domhnaill looks at some of the old cures preserved for all time by the work of the Folklore Commission.
Eamonn Duggan continues his IRELAND IN 1916 series. This week he profiles William Pearse. He was one of the lesser-known and discussed martyrs for the cause of Irish freedom, who undoubtedly became involved in the Rising because he succumbed to the over-whelming influence of his older brother.
We have all this for you to enjoy alongside your weekly favourites. I would also remind you that the closing date for our writing competition is getting closer, so don’t miss out. Take care, and I look forward to chatting to you next week.
Seán Nolan, Editor, Ireland’s Own
Sing along with your favourite Irish songs – My Wild Irish Rose If you listen I’ll sing you a sweet little song, Of a flower that’s now droped and dead, Yet dearer to me, yes than all of its mates, Though each holds aloft its proud head. Twas given to me by a girl that I know, Since we’ve met, faith I’ve known no repose. She is dearer by far than the world’s brightest star, And I call her my wild Irish Rose.