By Tommy O’Sionnach
It’s barely two years
since I wandered away
With a local battalion
of the bold IRA
I’ve read of our heroes;
I’ve wanted the same
For the play up my part in
the patriot’s game.
– The Patriot Game, By Dominic Behan
When it comes to family, one of the greatest gifts that can be given to all we know and love, as well as those yet to come, is a written record of our story. Think about it, details of the past are often lost forever because we don’t take the time to write them down. I’m sure everyone has the regret of not asking questions of a loved one until it was too late, with the end result being an incomplete account that has no chance of ever being recovered.
So, with this in mind, I got on the phone, and I talked to my dad about his parents, both immigrants from the Emerald Isle, and seeing as it’s a few days before the high holy day—St. Patrick’s Day—what better time than now to tell their remarkable story. I will focus on my grandfather, an Irish Patriot whose love of country would eventually force him to flee his native land after bravely fighting back—as so many did—against British Imperialism.
My namesake, Thomas Joseph Fox, was born September 14, 1898, in the little town of Cong, located in the western part of Ireland. For those who have seen The Quiet Man, starring John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara, much of that fine movie was filmed there – my cousin Sean was even cast as an extra!
Tom was the third of nine children to John and Bridget Fox. The family lived not far from the banks of beautiful Lough Corrib, Ireland’s largest lake and an angler’s paradise.
The Fox children worked on the family farm and didn’t get much schooling due to the policies of their British oppressors. My grandfather probably had the equivalency of a seventh-grade education. The island located to the northeast of Ireland has a long history of persecuting the Irish. From the 12th century on, thousands of Hibernian Patriots have fought against British rule – with many paying the ultimate price. Inspired by men like Red Hugh O’Donnell, Robert Emmet, Padraig Pearse, and Michael Collins, my grandfather and his older brother Patrick joined up with a resistance force known as the IRB, or Irish Republican Brotherhood, a group much like America’s famous Sons of Liberty.
Ben Franklin
It is said that one of the reasons Ben Franklin decided to get involved with our separation from England was because he had witnessed first-hand how horrifically the British treated the Irish while visiting the “Land of Saints and Scholars.” Franklin was convinced it was only a matter of time until that same level of brutality crossed the Atlantic. One-hundred and forty years after our Independence from Great Britain, their grip on Ireland had never been tighter.
Not long after winning the Connor Cup for being the fastest half-miler in the western part of the country, my grandfather and his older brother had their names added to the growing list of “Fenians,” as they were also known. The third oldest Fox child’s speed, coupled with his strong and accurate arm, made him a talented petrol bomber – something various British weapons depots soon discovered.
While numerous men of the cloth supported the fight for freedom, some parish priests unfortunately colluded with the enemy by confirming the identities of young patriots via the confessional, betraying the cause. It’s uncertain if this was how my grandfather and his brother had been identified, but it’s likely. The usual punishment for those captured was hanging, so Pat and his younger brother Tom made their way south to the port city of Cobh and fled the country.
Back then, to enter the United States, you needed a sponsor, and my great-grandmother’s brother, Marty Coyne, a police officer in Pittsburgh, was glad to take on this role for his nephews, just as he had for their older brother John, who had emigrated a couple of years prior. With a new lease on life, Patrick eventually made his way to Michigan and Tom settled on the shores of Lake Erie in Cleveland, Ohio, where, while working as a bricklayer, he eventually met his first wife, Julia Masterson.
The two met at a place known as The Carnation Club and were wed in 1926. Julia, who was originally from Achill, an island off the coast of County Mayo, was soon pregnant with a daughter, Mary, followed by two sons, Tommy and Mickey.
Then in 1930, not long after Mickey’s birth, Julia contracted tuberculosis, a death sentence in those days. Knowing she was bound to die, Julia took Mickey and moved back to Ireland to spend her final days.
My grandfather raised Mary and Tommy on his own here in America, as he worked to support his wife and children. I can’t imagine how hard the decision was for him and Julia to split their family up, but it was necessary; if he contracted the airborne disease then the three Fox children would have been orphaned. Julia soon died, and Mickey remained in Ireland to be raised by his aunts.
A few years later, Tom Fox was hired by a company in Cleveland called Lamps and Sessions, where he helped build those vacuum tubes used in banks and department stores. During the week he would travel across the state installing them and would pick-up Tommy and Mary each weekend from the place they stayed while he was away. By all accounts, he was wearing himself down as he coped with the grief of being a widower, raising two young children, and trying to figure out a way to get his youngest back to the States.
Every summer, my grandpa’s employer held their annual picnic at a local fairground – a gathering he was never able to attend due to having two small children to look after. But in the summer of 1934, his good friend Bernie Kilbane convinced him to take a break from everything and go have a good time, volunteering to look after the kids.
Without Bernie’s kindness, I probably wouldn’t be writing this, because my grandfather never would have met his second wife and my grandmother, Catherine (more on her story next week). I was never fortunate enough to meet my Grandpa Fox; he died about five years before my birth, but hearing about him from my father cleared up some of the confusion I had about his life. Irish patriots are often honored in song, and whenever I hear of the gallant men who stood up to British tyranny, I think of him.
The Dubliners
The Dubliners
One song that always paints a picture of what it must have been like for him and his fellow “Fenians” is called The Rising of the Moon. Please follow the link and listen to the Dubliners version of the well-known tune:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CMGllwPdDnY
or search out your own as it has been recorded many times over.
The song recounts the uprising of 1798 and has been seen as one of the great anthems of Irish independence. I picture my grandfather and his brother Pat lying in wait for that universal sign of “the rising of the moon,” as a signal to start whatever mission they may have had. The final two lines of the original lyrics by John Keegan Casey praise all who took up arms in the fight against British persecution.
Yet, thank God, even still are beating hearts in manhood’s burning noon
Who would follow in their footsteps
at the rising of the moon.
Thomas Joseph Fox proudly followed in the footsteps of the brave men Casey was writing about, and because of this, my American story began when it did. High on the list of things I am most proud of is being named for a Patriot from Cong. This Monday, take a moment and raise a glass to the people who came before you, and if you don’t know all the details as to how and why they came to America, do yourself a favor and find out as much as you can before it’s too late. Your chapter is just one of many, and understanding how your family’s American story began is a part of the book everyone should know!
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!
*Tommy O’Sionnach (Fox) is a native of Lakewood, Ohio and a second generation Irish-American. He currently teaches history in Altoona, Pennsylvania, and also writes a weekly blog on Substack called The Empathetic Fox.
