Founded on Fear

by Peter Tyrrell

  Joe Baker is now a very good mechanic and a good driver. He is also the best writer in the school and the other Brothers often came to look at his writing, and they take his old books away. Fahy who does not like Baker often says that good writing is a fool’s accomplishment. Fahy often reminds us that a Christian Brother gets no wages. He devotes his whole life towards the welfare of the children, and all he gets in exchange is his food and clothes, which any pauper gets in any workhouse. I remember him saying exactly the very same thing once before. It’s Easter Monday and the weather is too wet to go to Tully strand, so we just spend the day reading books in the library.

  The superior has now gone away on business and Fahy is looking after the office for a week. We spend a lot of time now on catechism with the result that we are backward in other subjects. This is Fahy’s favourite subject, he just loves it. I can’t learn catechism because I have no time for it, and I am beginning to feel the same way about religion, because the people who do not go to church (we have had two in Letterfrack) are better than those who go every day. I have now made up my mind to go abroad and study religion, not only the Catholic, but other religions as well. I can’t believe that Brothers Walsh, Vale and Fahy have a better chance of going to heaven than the Protestant lady who lives outside the school.

  There is very little change until Easter. The same brutality continues. Fahy does not like anyone in his school speaking to Brother Byrne, or indeed any of the Brothers, or masters. Fahy has a violent temper and when any of the other Brothers get the better of him he spends a whole hour talking about them to his school. When Brother Murphy comes to the yard or school, Fahy encourages the lads to jeer and laugh at him and the office Brother is such a nice man. Brother Murphy was not afraid of Fahy, like many others. One morning at breakfast when Fahy was present some of the boys started to jeer when Murphy arrived. Brother Murphy then addressed the boys saying that ‘he would open Brother Fahy’s eyes for him’, knowing that the pets would tell Fahy what was said.

  As we are on ‘serve’ after dinner, Brother Kelly the superior came to the kitchen, and called Vale and asked why a boy with one leg should have to wash dishes and scrub floors. He then turned to Tom Thornton and told him to go to the yard and not to do any more serve duties. I have not been beaten in the refectory for a long time, or in the bathroom, except an occasional blow on entering or leaving. Fahy lines us up four or five times a day to be slapped. My writing is now very poor and the paper is always dirty as the sweat just runs off my hands. I carry a large piece of white cloth to dry my hands but they are wet again in a few minutes. I fail at most subjects because I cannot concentrate on what I am doing. My mind is on other things and my imagination just runs riot. I am again sleeping badly and the awful dreams every night frighten and terrify me.

  As we are preparing for bed one night after saying the rosary we are kept behind for a talking to. Fahy often does this, he loves to give a lecture or a sermon. He usually starts by reminding us of a coming festival, or he might talk on the life of a saint – a very holy man who when tempted to commit a sin, would cause himself great physical pain by wearing a very tight chain around his body which cut into the flesh, or another who would lie on a bed of thorns or nails, and another when tempted would undress and throw himself into a clump of bushes, or into icy cold water. He often finished up by saying very nasty things about people. On this occasion he told me to stand up and he told the boys for a whole hour, about my home, about how I was brought up in a dirty filthy pigsty. He explained in detail the dreadful circumstances of my family. He called me a dirty tramp and a beggar. He said I was a common tinker, who had come from the gutter and would go back to the gutter. I was supposed to have said something about him, which I cannot recall. I most probably did say something, because we were always talking about him and his girlfriend, and wondering why she wasn’t coming to see him.

  Micky Comeford and I often go to the farmyard where there is a big boiler of potatoes, turnips and carrots, which has been boiled for the pigs. It’s really lovely, and we enjoy it much better than our own food. When we have eaten enough we fill our pockets with potatoes, provided they have not been mashed up with the other vegetables. Festy McDonald caught me one night eating the pig food. He had been drinking, and he swore at me, and shouted ‘no wonder my pigs are so skinny, you hungry devil, eating all their grub’.

  At Easter there isn’t very much excitement. We get a boiled egg for breakfast, the usual Sunday dinner, with a slice of cake and bread for supper. There is a band concert in the evening. There are dances held about every three months, and Fahy’s girl has started coming to see him again. She visits him several times a week, and everyone in the school is talking about them. The P.P. has sent for Fahy and there is a great argument and they do not speak to each other for several months. About this time the Bishop of Galway visits the school. After this, Fahy does not see his girl any more.

  We are preparing for the summer examinations and the dunce’s hat is ready. This is a very big paper hat with the word ‘dunce’ written on each side, and is worn by the boy who gets the lowest score. Joe Baker who sleeps in the bed next to me has just returned from Clifden where he has been with Joe Kelly the mechanic for two days. As he gets into bed, Fahy comes to Baker’s bed and without a word drags the clothes off his bed and beats him with a very big stick. He is beaten all over the body, and is bleeding from the mouth and nose. Joe Baker’s nose is broken and he has great difficulty in breathing and becomes worse. Baker who has always been good at games and very bright at school now looks ill, he is green in the face and his health is failing. There was never any reason given for this beating.

  Fahy can be very nice at times, he often reads us a story in the evening instead of the usual lessons, but when he is in a bad temper he is just a savage brute. He often uses a stick nearly as thick as a broom handle. He is very strong and hits with full force. He beats the old boys and Vale the youngsters.

  The exam is over and I get the second lowest score. Tom Thornton is the lowest, but as he is in the tailor’s shop in the mornings, and does not get a chance to study for the exam, he is excused, and I have to wear the dunce’s hat. This is an awful and embarrassing experience. I have to stand with my back to the wall wearing the paper hat and the class is expected to laugh and jeer. Fahy gives the signal to cheer and clap hands every year when anyone is crowned. It was Fahy who introduced the dunce’s hat, it was unknown before he came.

  The summer holidays have now commenced and everyone is wild with excitement. We are expecting to go to Tully strand next week, but the weather often lets us down, and the trip is postponed. There is a Christian Brother here who just came for a visit. He has returned from Australia where he has spent many years. He talks about the great opportunities for emigrants in that thinly populated country. He said there are large areas of Australia not yet explored, and much of it is desert because there is very little rainfall. It’s not unusual he said to be without rain for eighteen months during which time many thousands of cattle and sheep are lost. The natives of Australia are coloured, and they are very primitive, and probably the most backward in the world. It is very difficult to educate the natives he said, as they are of very limited intelligence. Many of them can only count to ten. The climate is very warm, especially in the interior.

  We are off to Tully strand and it’s a very warm day, and we all go into the sea. There is cycle racing on the beach, some of the local folk compete against the Clifden lads. For lunch we get a lemonade and sandwiches, and there are prizes of cakes and sweets for those who win an event in racing or the long jump and the high jump.

  The following Sunday we are taken for a walk to Kylemore Abbey, and are permitted to wander about in or near the convent grounds. As I am walking with Matt Feerick we make conversation with one of the convent girls. She is fifteen, and is a very pretty girl. We sit on the grass and ask each other questions about our respective schools and I am horrified to learn that this beautiful girl is
beaten in the same manner as the boys at our school. I could not believe her story when she said she was often beaten by the priest and the beatings were often severe, so to prove her story she showed marks on her arms and legs. I know this priest well as he often comes to our school. I now know she did not lie to me, because she looked at me straight in the face. When I tell a lie I have to drop my eyes. Besides why should she want to tell a lie about the priest, of all people? I am now very upset, because whatever doubts I had about religion, I still had a great respect for a priest. I always believed he would be the very last one in the world to hurt anyone, least of all a girl. I could never have the same respect for a priest again, and whenever I see one I am reminded of what the girl told me.

  The coal ship has arrived from Scotland, and I speak with one of the crew about the possibility of finding work in his country. He did not think there was much chance in view of the fact that thousands of his people were emigrating every year, but he thought I could join the army or the navy, and would get an opportunity to go abroad.

  The holidays are now over, and I have less than a year to do, with a little luck it may only be nine months. Perhaps after another three months I will be working full time in the workshop, and will not report for school in the mornings. Martin Mullins has now left to work in a convent at Marseilles in France. He has promised to write to me as soon as he gets settled.

  My father has written to say that he can get me a job in Ballinasloe. The wage would be 10/- a week. He thinks the superior may let me out earlier if I have a job to go to. I reply saying that I shall be willing to go home at the earliest opportunity. I am not anxious to see my parents any more. I should be happier if I did not see them, but there is a chance that I may leave earlier by going home. It is not the normal procedure for the parents to find work for the children. The authorities are against it, because they say the parents only want their boys back because they are now able to work and earn money for them. I wish to see my brothers, as I want to know what they now think of Letterfrack, what their reactions are to having been starved and beaten, and above all I want to know their state of health. Joe and Paddy were not long in the school, and have not suffered nearly as much as Jack and I, but I wish to see them just the same.

  Young McGrath, a chap of seventeen, has now finished school and is employed on the school staff at a weekly wage. He is the electrician and like his older brother is none the worse for his many years at Letterfrack. Another chap, Frank Kelly, also on the staff in the shoemaker’s shop, appears to be quite well and happy, but as they are older than me I can’t say how they have been treated. Brother Byrne often said that the boy who is brought up in an industrial school is usually a failure, because he is starved of love and kindness which only the parents are qualified to give. But Byrne never mentioned what effect the regular beatings had on a child. Probably because he did not know that this was going on. He never beat anyone severely himself, and therefore did not know that it was taking place. I have never seen a Christian Brother beat children in the presence of another Brother.

  There is a boy in the infirmary at present suffering from the effects of a severe beating. His name is McLaughlin or Kangaroo. If he had not been admitted to the infirmary, no one would know about him. This is a very strange thing. He has been beaten by Brother Conway, yet I was in Brother Conway’s class for a year and he never beat anyone. I have heard that Conway may be expelled from the Brotherhood. This lad McLaughlin is the quietest boy in the school and yet he has been beaten more than anyone else. He is now suffering from a stammer and cannot read nor write. His brother is very good at school, but has become very nervous lately.

  An inspector is visiting the school and our class is on Irish history, which tells of the terrible things the British have done in Ireland. But the inspector tells us that ‘Much of our history is greatly exaggerated, besides’ he added, ‘many of our own people have done more harm to Ireland than ever the British.’

  Fahy has now got a shotgun and he goes about the farm shooting rabbits and other vermin. Brother Murphy borrows the gun to shoot ‘Nigger’ the wild cat which is worrying his pigeons. He chases the cat to the tailor’s shop one evening after the shop is shut. Murphy has asked us to leave a window open so that he can shoot ‘Nigger’. But as he fired through the window he only shot the coal box. It’s Halloween and Fahy gives out the fruit. We get an apple, an orange, monkey nuts and walnuts. And there is a concert in the evening, and a professional singer has been engaged. He is a tenor and said to be one of the best in the country. There is also a Christian Brother from another school who plays the violin. Several of our lads are quite good singers, Matt Feerick, Christy Long, and Cosgrove from Galway. The bandmaster thinks Cosgrove may well improve as he grows older and has advised him to go to Dublin for further training after he leaves the school. Young Hunt was a lovely singer, but he has lost his nerve and is unable to sing in public.

  The mission is now on as it’s Christmas week 1931, but I am determined not to let the missioner frighten me, as he did last year. We are all given new rosary beads, which are blessed by the missioner personally.

  We don’t do any work on Christmas Eve except to put up the decorations. The young children make long chains of holly and ivy leaves, and there are balloons as well as small coloured bulbs. The refectory has been newly painted. There is a very big glass case at the end of the refectory. It is full of musical instruments. This is called the organ, which I am told used to play during meal times before I came to Letterfrack. This has also been painted. For Christmas dinner, there is roast turkey, roast potatoes, green peas, tomato sauce, and plum pudding.

  I receive a letter from mother saying they all hope to see me home very soon, as dad has written to the superior saying that he has found me a job at 10/- a week. The very young children have each received a present from Father Christmas. In the evening we attend a picture show in the hall. There is also a whist drive in the library for those who wish to attend.

  It’s January 1932. Brother Fahy reads a letter from a man who said he escaped from Letterfrack nineteen years ago. He slept on Diamond Hill during the day and ate pig food from the school farm during the night. This man is at present living in Canada and he hopes to visit the school next year.

  The superior has sent for me to say that I will no longer attend school, but will spend the next six months in the workshop. But he thought I would be better off to remain another year, or six months over my time. It would be to my own advantage to stay as long as I could, and if I wished to do so I should inform him.

  I am certain that the superior Kelly did not know what was going on. If he did realize that children were being beaten for no reason, I am sure he would have stopped it. I am also sure that Keegan (the first superior) did not know that Walsh and Vale simply tortured the children. Keegan himself was a hard and cruel man. He beat the boys sometimes severely, but there was always a reason. He beat them for having lice and sores on their heads. What he really beat them for was not going sick, when they had sores or skin disease. He said lice was due to laziness and dirt. The most terrible law in Letterfrack was we must not complain. In the words of Brother Kelly, ‘it is sinful in the eyes of God to complain’.

  The months go by fairly quickly, it’s Easter and the kids go to Tully strand. But I am too busy making my own suit, so I don’t go. It’s now summer and I am due to leave any day but am not terribly excited because I know that my troubles are not over when I leave Letterfrack. I have been warned many times by Brother Byrne. I can remember his words, ‘there is no one who is qualified to replace your own mother’. ‘The industrial schoolboy is usually a failure’ and ‘you will always be identified by your sheepish look’. I say goodbye to Mr Tom Griffin, he is now 45 years in Letterfrack as a school teacher.

  12

  I Return Home

  It took almost two hours to travel by car to Galway, where the driver and I had lunch at a restaurant. The lunch of liver and onions, boiled potatoes and tea w
ith biscuits was good. Brother Kelly had given me ten shillings to pay for the meal, but the driver (mechanic) insisted on paying.

  Brother Kelly left us for an hour, and returned to see me off on the train to Ballinasloe, a distance of thirty miles. The train journey was pleasant and I had a whole compartment to myself. The day was fine and warm, the land here was rich and perfectly flat, unlike Connemara on the west coast which was mountainous and almost barren. The corn had not yet been cut, and it looked rich and beautiful in the fresh breeze. The cattle, sheep and horses were all so different here in the Midlands, they were much bigger and stronger and healthier than the poor half starved creatures of Connemara.

  This was my first day of freedom for more than seven years, and so far it was nice. I was sorry to leave Brother Kelly as he was one of the best. He made one mistake which I could never forget, and that was cutting down Mr Griffin’s wages. That was an awful pity, apart from that he was a really good and genuine person, he was very religious, and one of the few good ones. Usually the religious people were savage and brutal, mean, cunning and ferocious, Fahy, Vale, Walsh, Blake, Reardon and to a slightly less degree Keegan the superior. All these Brothers turned a school into a terrible prison. They made life unbearable for innocent defenceless children. These men were all between thirty-eight and fifty years. What damage have they already done, how much more destruction will they be permitted to do? The amount of pain and suffering perpetuated by such evil creatures must be enormous. As the train comes to a halt at my destination I learn that the town is more than half a mile away from the station.