Re: Information is wanted of Thomas McNamara, of Glandree,
Posted: Fri Aug 15, 2025 11:40 am
The piece by Frank Clune in The Strangers Gaze is taken from his book Land of Hope and Glory, published 1949. It is an account of his trip in April-May-June of 1947 to England, Scotland and Ireland. I failed to get it through my local library, so I got it from Kenny’s i.e. bookshop in Galway for 5 euro (post free). It’s second-hand, stamped with the name W. P. Linehan, 244 Elizabeth St., Melbourne.
Clune’s style is upbeat; always optimistic; mostly lighthearted; I can see why he was a popular writer in his day. One hundred pages (pp 76-174) - one third of the book - are devoted to Ireland, but quite a bit of that goes on his trips to Dublin and Galway. When it comes to Co. Clare, he does not trouble himself very much with genealogy ( he is more interested in history and antiquity), but he does say that Archbishop Patrick Clune was his father’s cousin. He says that two of his father’s cousins, both priests had emigrated to Australia:
"They both rose to ecclesiastical eminence, one being the late Archbishop Joseph Patrick Clune of Perth, Western Australia. His brother, the Reverend Francis Clune, M.C., is a much-loved member of the Passionist Order at Marrickville, New South Wales. My Dad, George Clune, was not of ecclesiastical bent - and no more am I. He came to Australia [in 1891] to seek fortune on the gold diggings, but he never struck it lucky, except when he married my mother, an Australian-born lass of Irish parentage. My three brothers and I, as infants, saw very little of our gold-digger Dad … he died when we were young, without bequeathing to us anything except his adventurous spirit. From him I learned very little about our Irish relatives, or his family background. But from my Dad’s cousin, the Reverend Francis Clune, of Marrickville, I had letters of introduction to the folks in Ould Ireland, and I had written to let them know the date when I expected to arrive in Rineanna [Shannon Airport].
He arrived at Shannon airport on 13 May, hence many references during his visit to the hawthorn blooming in every hedgerow.
When I pick up any book, I go straight to the pictures, and there is a lovely photo of the four Hogan girls, Kitty, Maureen, Lena and Angela, with their mother, Bridget (nee Clune), on page 48. They sitting in a pony-and-trap [jaunting car] outside their house in Tullyodea. But, unfortunately, there are no other photos of relatives, or any of Ruan. Clune mentions meeting the postmistress, Miss Margaret O’Donnell “full of life and charm”. She remembered his father. She goes on, “I learned all about Australia when I was at school nearly seventy years ago … ‘The flora and fauna of Australia present a striking contrast to those of other countries… The swans are black, the eagles white, the owl hoots by day, and the cuckoo cries by night… The trees shed their bark, instead of their leaves, and the leaves are vertical not horizontal!’”
Then Clune meets Casey “the Kid”, in his eighties at the time, who greets him heartily and tells him that his father was a bit of a wild fella. Miss O’Donnell brings them a stiff nip of whiskey, as they sit on stools by the fire. "Would you like to go to visit Bidelia Clune? says Casey the Kid, suddenly.” On the way, Casey described a sermon given by Archbishop Clune in Ruan in 1920. He said the Archbishop spoke about the troubles in Ireland [war] until everyone was weeping, and then the Archbishop wept. Clune and Casey have tea with Bidelia Clune, a white-haired old lady, aged 79. She had married into one of the numerous Clune clan, Frank Clune says, but he makes no attempt at deciding which family of Clunes.
Later that day he meets the schoolmaster, John Leydon and they discuss the revival of the Irish language. And he visits the church and sees the plaque mentioned in my posting above. Later he visits Dysart O’Dea and recounts some of the history of the place.
One of his trips was to Quin village where all the inhabitants are Clunes, but he just says “hail and farewell” and passes on.
After three days in Tullyodea, he flies to Dublin [Collinstown Airport], and uses the view of Ardnacrusha power station below to digress for a couple of pages on progress in Ireland. In Dublin he has an interview with the Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera, organised by Mr. W. Dignam, Australia’s High Commissioner in Eire, but before that, he has one day to see the city. It is the anniversary of the death of Daniel O’Connell (15 May, 1847), and that gives him an opportunity to digress a little on The Great Liberator. He describes the statue in O’Connell Street, comparing it unfavourably with the statue of Paddy Hannon in Kalgoorlie (which is so life-like), and also the statue of William Smith O’Brien, nearby on O’Connell Bridge, which of course provides an opportunity to mention the Young Irelanders. The General Post Office (G.P.O) in O’Connell Street likewise leads into an account of the Easter Rising of 1916, and he contrasts that blood sacrifice with the belief held by O’Connell that “No political reform is worth shedding one drop of blood.” He attends the O’Connell Centenary Celebrations at the Mansion House in Dawson Street, where Archbishop McQuaid presided, and describes how bored the audience were, and how they hugged their overcoats.
Next day, he strolls around the main streets noting historical buildings, visiting Trinity College and Dublin Castle and the Guildhall, whereupon mentions his “kinsman, Conor Clune”: “[Along with] McKee and Clancy, he was murdered in cold blood, hot blood, under the pretext that they were attempting to escape.”
The interview with De Valera in the afternoon goes well. They speak about O’Connell, about the partition of Ireland and about the Irish Language. Then Clune cautiously introduces the neutrality of Ireland during the recent war, saying, “You know that many people think that you, and the members of your government are ‘anti-British’”, whereupon “De Valera grinned” - a rare event, I imagine - and explained that bygones would be bygones if independence was recognised for all of Ireland, and then goes on to enlarge on the subject of neutrality. Asked why the Irish were so anxious to have full independence, instead of being satisfied with “Dominion Status” within the British Empire, De Valera says, “The freedom which the British Dominions enjoy is not so much the result of legal enactments, as of the immense distances which separate them from Britain”.
That evening the seemingly tireless Clune goes to a play, The Dark Road , by Elizabeth Connor, in the Abbey Theatre, “an ugly-looking building, and no wonder, for it used to be a morgue” (before the curtain is raised, a trio plays Schubert’s Rosamunde Overture). The play doesn’t impress, but he writes a whole chapter on the history of the theatre and the playwrights.
Next day Frank Clune, who has already packed in a lot in his six days in Eire, flies back to Shannon. His cousin, Sr. Coleman Clune, takes him to Coláiste Mhuire, a convent secondary school in Ennis, where, without any warning, he is put before an audience of 200 girls; finds himself at a loss as to how to speak to them; then sees a piano and plays a couple of Australian songs ending with Waltzing Matilda, and inviting them all to join in the chorus.
Along with the Hogan girls, he goes to visit Auchrim, ‘the old home and birthplace of Archbishop Doctor Clune, five miles from Tullyodea. It is only a little, old, sod-walled, whitewashed, thatched cottage, tucked away among the trees, and now unoccupied and falling into ruin.”
A drive to Galway in a hired car with the Hogans, and a detour to Lisdoonvarna and the Cliffs of Moher on the way back (“Yes, here is the bulwark of Europe, the frontier, the Ultima Thule, and it’s from here that the Old World looks out to the New World’), a last night in the Old Ground Hotel and then Clune flies back to London and resumes his tour of England and Scotland. On the plane, he realises that he’d neglected to go to Blarney castle to kiss the stone.
Again and again, Clune describes himself as knowing very little about Ireland prior to his visit, so I think he must have done quite a bit of reading afterwards.
Sheila
Clune’s style is upbeat; always optimistic; mostly lighthearted; I can see why he was a popular writer in his day. One hundred pages (pp 76-174) - one third of the book - are devoted to Ireland, but quite a bit of that goes on his trips to Dublin and Galway. When it comes to Co. Clare, he does not trouble himself very much with genealogy ( he is more interested in history and antiquity), but he does say that Archbishop Patrick Clune was his father’s cousin. He says that two of his father’s cousins, both priests had emigrated to Australia:
"They both rose to ecclesiastical eminence, one being the late Archbishop Joseph Patrick Clune of Perth, Western Australia. His brother, the Reverend Francis Clune, M.C., is a much-loved member of the Passionist Order at Marrickville, New South Wales. My Dad, George Clune, was not of ecclesiastical bent - and no more am I. He came to Australia [in 1891] to seek fortune on the gold diggings, but he never struck it lucky, except when he married my mother, an Australian-born lass of Irish parentage. My three brothers and I, as infants, saw very little of our gold-digger Dad … he died when we were young, without bequeathing to us anything except his adventurous spirit. From him I learned very little about our Irish relatives, or his family background. But from my Dad’s cousin, the Reverend Francis Clune, of Marrickville, I had letters of introduction to the folks in Ould Ireland, and I had written to let them know the date when I expected to arrive in Rineanna [Shannon Airport].
He arrived at Shannon airport on 13 May, hence many references during his visit to the hawthorn blooming in every hedgerow.
When I pick up any book, I go straight to the pictures, and there is a lovely photo of the four Hogan girls, Kitty, Maureen, Lena and Angela, with their mother, Bridget (nee Clune), on page 48. They sitting in a pony-and-trap [jaunting car] outside their house in Tullyodea. But, unfortunately, there are no other photos of relatives, or any of Ruan. Clune mentions meeting the postmistress, Miss Margaret O’Donnell “full of life and charm”. She remembered his father. She goes on, “I learned all about Australia when I was at school nearly seventy years ago … ‘The flora and fauna of Australia present a striking contrast to those of other countries… The swans are black, the eagles white, the owl hoots by day, and the cuckoo cries by night… The trees shed their bark, instead of their leaves, and the leaves are vertical not horizontal!’”
Then Clune meets Casey “the Kid”, in his eighties at the time, who greets him heartily and tells him that his father was a bit of a wild fella. Miss O’Donnell brings them a stiff nip of whiskey, as they sit on stools by the fire. "Would you like to go to visit Bidelia Clune? says Casey the Kid, suddenly.” On the way, Casey described a sermon given by Archbishop Clune in Ruan in 1920. He said the Archbishop spoke about the troubles in Ireland [war] until everyone was weeping, and then the Archbishop wept. Clune and Casey have tea with Bidelia Clune, a white-haired old lady, aged 79. She had married into one of the numerous Clune clan, Frank Clune says, but he makes no attempt at deciding which family of Clunes.
Later that day he meets the schoolmaster, John Leydon and they discuss the revival of the Irish language. And he visits the church and sees the plaque mentioned in my posting above. Later he visits Dysart O’Dea and recounts some of the history of the place.
One of his trips was to Quin village where all the inhabitants are Clunes, but he just says “hail and farewell” and passes on.
After three days in Tullyodea, he flies to Dublin [Collinstown Airport], and uses the view of Ardnacrusha power station below to digress for a couple of pages on progress in Ireland. In Dublin he has an interview with the Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera, organised by Mr. W. Dignam, Australia’s High Commissioner in Eire, but before that, he has one day to see the city. It is the anniversary of the death of Daniel O’Connell (15 May, 1847), and that gives him an opportunity to digress a little on The Great Liberator. He describes the statue in O’Connell Street, comparing it unfavourably with the statue of Paddy Hannon in Kalgoorlie (which is so life-like), and also the statue of William Smith O’Brien, nearby on O’Connell Bridge, which of course provides an opportunity to mention the Young Irelanders. The General Post Office (G.P.O) in O’Connell Street likewise leads into an account of the Easter Rising of 1916, and he contrasts that blood sacrifice with the belief held by O’Connell that “No political reform is worth shedding one drop of blood.” He attends the O’Connell Centenary Celebrations at the Mansion House in Dawson Street, where Archbishop McQuaid presided, and describes how bored the audience were, and how they hugged their overcoats.
Next day, he strolls around the main streets noting historical buildings, visiting Trinity College and Dublin Castle and the Guildhall, whereupon mentions his “kinsman, Conor Clune”: “[Along with] McKee and Clancy, he was murdered in cold blood, hot blood, under the pretext that they were attempting to escape.”
The interview with De Valera in the afternoon goes well. They speak about O’Connell, about the partition of Ireland and about the Irish Language. Then Clune cautiously introduces the neutrality of Ireland during the recent war, saying, “You know that many people think that you, and the members of your government are ‘anti-British’”, whereupon “De Valera grinned” - a rare event, I imagine - and explained that bygones would be bygones if independence was recognised for all of Ireland, and then goes on to enlarge on the subject of neutrality. Asked why the Irish were so anxious to have full independence, instead of being satisfied with “Dominion Status” within the British Empire, De Valera says, “The freedom which the British Dominions enjoy is not so much the result of legal enactments, as of the immense distances which separate them from Britain”.
That evening the seemingly tireless Clune goes to a play, The Dark Road , by Elizabeth Connor, in the Abbey Theatre, “an ugly-looking building, and no wonder, for it used to be a morgue” (before the curtain is raised, a trio plays Schubert’s Rosamunde Overture). The play doesn’t impress, but he writes a whole chapter on the history of the theatre and the playwrights.
Next day Frank Clune, who has already packed in a lot in his six days in Eire, flies back to Shannon. His cousin, Sr. Coleman Clune, takes him to Coláiste Mhuire, a convent secondary school in Ennis, where, without any warning, he is put before an audience of 200 girls; finds himself at a loss as to how to speak to them; then sees a piano and plays a couple of Australian songs ending with Waltzing Matilda, and inviting them all to join in the chorus.
Along with the Hogan girls, he goes to visit Auchrim, ‘the old home and birthplace of Archbishop Doctor Clune, five miles from Tullyodea. It is only a little, old, sod-walled, whitewashed, thatched cottage, tucked away among the trees, and now unoccupied and falling into ruin.”
A drive to Galway in a hired car with the Hogans, and a detour to Lisdoonvarna and the Cliffs of Moher on the way back (“Yes, here is the bulwark of Europe, the frontier, the Ultima Thule, and it’s from here that the Old World looks out to the New World’), a last night in the Old Ground Hotel and then Clune flies back to London and resumes his tour of England and Scotland. On the plane, he realises that he’d neglected to go to Blarney castle to kiss the stone.
Again and again, Clune describes himself as knowing very little about Ireland prior to his visit, so I think he must have done quite a bit of reading afterwards.
Sheila