WEXFORD PARTIES AND PRESIDENTS

 

It was a town of poets and photographers, patriots and piss-heads, sailors and emigrants, croppy boys and teddy boys, they all got along exceedingly well when the pints were flowing, somewhat less so during hangovers.

 

They shared the same accent, jaunty and distinct - hard to describe for it had so many roots: Viking, Norman, Celt, Cromwellian, with stray influences from the vast British Empire, for Wexford was a garrison town whose mariners had sailed everywhere.

 

Each street and lane had its own speech patterns, and every syllable suggested that you were from Maudlintown or Croke Avenue, Corish Park or Dukes Lane.

 

You can get a strong whiff of the accent by listening to Wexford native, Michael Londra on his national PBS show, Ireland with Michael, as he travels the country, introducing musicians and crafts people to American viewers, always with Ireland’s soft beauty glowing in the background.

 

But the myriad shades of Wexford accents all melded together on Wexford’s Quays that  stretch from the North End Railway Station to the Deep South Talbot Hotel and beyond.

 

Pierce Turner grew up in a quayside house opposite Wexford Bridge. The house seems lonely, now that the Turners no longer live or conduct business therein. It used to throb with activity, and the parties in the second floor sitting room were legendary.

 

Everyone had to either sing, dance, recite, or do some kind of turn; it didn’t matter if you were shy or tongue-tied, you had to contribute, and everyone from professional to amateur received the same resounding applause.

 

Pierce and I became friendly through our mania for songwriting, and manys the hoped-for classic we knocked together in that sitting room with the upright piano, overlooking the Slaney’s surging flow.

 

Wexford’s emigrants did well overseas – down the Quay on the Crescent stands an inspiring bronze statue of Commodore John Barry, founder of the American navy. And one glorious day in 1962 former President Eisenhower laid a wreath at that statue, while Wexford men and women who had served in WW2 saluted “General Ike”, their Allied Commander.

 

But it was an even bigger day 10 months later, when President Kennedy, whose grandfather emigrated from Dunganstown, County Wexford, drove along the Quay  to Redmond Place where he delivered his homecoming speech.

 

That’s when Pierce’s older sister, Bernie Lloyd, caught him. Bernie was always very bright, curious and involved. Instead of running around the town trying to catch a glimpse of the young bronzed-faced president, she opened the sitting room window and trained her Brownie camera on him as he drove by.

 

I don’t know how many pictures she took, but one survived from that unforgettable day on the Quay. It was of a different time, when presidents could motor by unencumbered by security.

 

That all changed five months later in Dallas when Jack Kennedy was assassinated while motoring along in a similar big American car.

 

 I often think that President Kennedy’s visit, commemorated by Bernie’s quayside picture, was what sent Pierce and me to the US as Turner & Kirwan of Wexford. We never thought of going to England in 1972. There was a war going on and Paddies were suspect over there. So, instead we hopped a plane to New York.

 

Over 50 years later, Wexford is a different town. Many of the old pubs have closed, and on Saturday nights when the Main Street used to be chock-a-block, people are scarce, or in a hurry, little time for exchanging greetings, let alone gossip.

 

They’re rushing home to surf the internet, stream movies, or bemoan the fact that the price of a pint is so expensive nowadays. That’s the price of progress and modernity, I suppose, but Wexford is still a great place to live, still has that distinctive lilting accent, where everyone knows you and you know them.

 

Pierce’s house on the Quay may be silent but he’ll transfer the party to Joe’s Pub on his annual gig there on Saturday March 14^th. You’ll hear the townie accent ring loud and clear as he belts out his Wexford anthems, “Musha God Help Her”, “Groovy Hearts” and “The Sky and The Ground.”  The latter, one of Wexford’s remaining great pubs, is named after Pierce’s song – now there’s an honor Bono or Bob Dylan never received.

 

Meanwhile Bernie’s snap of a beloved emigrant president takes us back to a different time, when guns were less prevalent and community more common.

 

Pierce Turner at Joe’s Pub, 425 Lafayette St. NYC, March 14, 6:30pm Tickets https://publictheater.org

TRUMP, GREENLAND & MINNESOTA MADNESS

“You’ve made a holy show of yourself, boy!”

 

That was a saying back in the Wexford of my youth. It meant you’d done something to be thoroughly ashamed of and, if you knew what was good for you, you’d better change your ways.

 

The phrase came to mind during the Donald Trump Greenland debacle. Seems like a long time ago, but that’s the “flood the zone” world our president has mired us in.

 

It’s hard to credit that a grown man would admit he was miffed because he wasn’t awarded last year’s Nobel Peace Prize, and that someone would have to pay. 

 

Oh yes, there were the lies about myriad Russian and Chinese ships threatening, and in the interests of US security Denmark had better hand over Greenland post-haste.

 

The crazy thing is that Denmark and our other NATO allies are in agreement that the US should have all the access it needs to Greenland; in fact, Greenlanders themselves would be thrilled if the US was to fix up its many abandoned rusted bases and help locate the frigid island’s abundant rare earths.

 

But no, that wasn’t good enough for the poor little rich boy from Queens. Rich or poor, he would have been shunned and ridiculed in the pubs of Wexford. How does he get away with such conduct in America?

 

Fibber’s fatigue, perhaps? Remember when Mr. Trump first ran for president, reporters used to note the number of lies per speech. Ancient history! Nowadays “it’s just Donald being Donald.”

As one follower winked, “You don’t expect him to be George Washington, do you?”

 

Well, one could dream. But a Greenland expert, Martin Breum, put it very well recently. “There is extreme consternation that your president appears completely immune to data, facts, arguments and common knowledge. He continues to state what is obviously factually wrong. This seems unbelievable to many people in this country (Denmark). We cannot understand what is happening. We wonder what is next.”

 

I’m with you there, Marty. There was a time we used to hold our presidents accountable. I guess fibber’s fatigue has done a number on us all.

 

Things got even worse at the Davos Billionaire Boys Convention when our noble warrior insulted the NATO troops who sacrificed their lives while aiding the US in the post-9/11invasion of Afghanistan. This coming from a man who got five deferments that saved him from serving in Vietnam.

 

This also from a man who never lifted a finger to prevent his followers from attacking outnumbered police officers while they stormed the Capitol Building on shameful January 6^th – a man who later pardoned the vast majority of said “patriots.”

 

The people of Minneapolis/St. Paul, however, have shaken off their fibber’s fatigue. 

 

It’s always been a pleasure to play the Twin Cities and look out across a well-integrated audience of Americans and recent immigrants. 

 

And yes, I have heard the accusations against the Somalis who ran a scheme to defraud the welfare system. Those crooks should be prosecuted to the fullest – but their crime should not be used as a blanket denunciation of the gracious Somali people who have added so much to the culture and commerce of Minneapolis/St. Paul.

 

I’m sure there are many good people among ICE and Border Patrol agents too, but this armed militia do themselves no favors by wearing masks and assaulting American citizens and others who are exercising their First Amendment rights.

 

This is not Italy in the 1930’s, but sometimes it seems like Donald Trump is trying hard to be another Mussolini looking for his balcony. 

 

After initially holding Democrats rather than federal agents responsible for pumping 10 bullets into Alex Pretti, he’s been busy determining how much damage the execution of two American citizens will affect the House and Senate elections in November. 

 

There’s already been a change in his attitude: 700 agents will be withdrawn from Minnesota, and a couple of brassy sycophants will likely take the fall, for without Republican congressional majorities Mr. Trump will become just another lame-duck president. But hey, George Washington was once one too.

 

Despite the inevitable lies that came spouting out of the White House, we have seen the videos, we believe our own eyes, and we stand with the people of Minneapolis/St. Paul’s in their grief, loss, and defiance.

 

Your fibber’s fatigue is wearing thin, Mr. President. You’ve made a holy show of yourself, boy!