Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill (40 page)

Free land did not
tempt
them. They rejected the land for the land had rejected them; yet even so they always spoke reverently of the old Ireland. All major cities had their "Irish Town" or "Shanty Town" where the Irish clung
to each other
.
They
were not wanted in America. Ads for employment often were followed by "NO IRISH NEED APPLY." They were forced t
o live in cellars and shanties
because of poverty but also because they were considered bad for the neighborhood
.
These living conditions bred
illness
and early death. It was estimated that 80% of all infants born to Irish immigrants in New York City died. Their brogue and dress
invited
ridicule; their poverty and illiteracy
drew
scorn.

“
The Irish fill our prisons, our poor houses...Scratch a convict or a pauper, and the chances are that you tickle the skin of an Irish Catholic. Putting them on a boat and sending them home would end crime in this country."
The Chicago Post.

The Irish response was that
they united and took offense. Insult or intimidation was often met with violence.
T
heir strength
was
solidarity.  T
hey helped each other survive. They prayed and drank together.
I
t was their faith and dogged determination to become Americans
caused a newspaper to write
, "The Irish have become more Americanized than the Americans."

The Church played an integral part in their l
ives. It was a militant Church.  It was
a Church who fought not only for their souls but also for their human rights. After the religious riots in Philadelphia where many Catholic churches were burned, the mayor of New York asked Archbishop Hughes, "Do you fear that some of your churches will be burned."

"No sir, but I am afraid some of yours will be. We can protect our own."

"
She is a very sweet young lady
Patrick
, to be sure. 
I admire her for coming such a long way
in life
.  She is a very good friend and hopefully will always be a very good friend. 
But her background makes her quite….quite….well…let us just say she will never pass for royalty, not even American royalty
no matter how much polish
you add
.  So
meone will look into her background and it will show up in the papers
.
"
 
Juliana McCabe
'
s eyes were filled with concern. 
"
Someday her background will come to haunt you both I am sure
.  It will
be
just as hard for her to suffer the humiliation as it will be for you
.
"

Patrick
ran his hand through his dark hair. 
"
She doesn
'
t need to be royalty or wealthy mother and I decided long ago I didn
'
t need a wife of any breeding, let alone royalty.
"

Jolene crept closer to the open door.  She had unpacked in her lovely bedroom and was on her way back down to meet
Patrick
for a small tour of the house.

Jolene felt a lump rise from her chest to her throat.  
Patrick
was defending her to his family.  Why it mattered about her background just because she knew
Patrick
,
was beyond her understanding.  However, she didn
'
t want to be a burden to
Patrick
.  She most certainly didn
'
t want him to feel shame.

She boldly stepped into the room through the cracked doorway. 
"
I am American royalty.
"

Patrick
and his mother
Juliana
turned startled and embarrassed faces to her. 
Patrick
stepped forward. 
"
I am sorry Jolene, we didn
'
t mean for y
er
to overhear
.
"

"Then you should not leave the door open."

Patrick
smiled.  "This is true but be that as it may....we are both sorry for being so rude, I should remember that it doesn
'
t take you very long to change your clothing."

"You know I heard what you said." 
Jolene looked at him, her heart filling with her words. 
Her voice was small and cracked at first but gained strength with each word. 
"
You are wrong about me. 
I am American royalty
. 
Jolene punctuated her words by pointing to her chest.  "
My
daddy
was like a knight
in
shining armor.
"

Patrick
stepped closer holding out his hand to
her. 
"
Jolene, there is no need to
qualify
our
rude words
.
"

"
My father served in Vietnam.  His father served before him in World War II.  They are like medieval knights, fighting for good and right.  They were
American knights…and I am the D
aughter of
the Revolution on my mamma's side. 

So you see, I am
American royalty.
"
  Jolene shook her head and opened her hands. 
"
Why my
granddaddy
on my mother
'
s side went to the darkest corners of caves in West Virginia to get out the coal…that is what made America so great to start with
, the coal and the oil
, all those kinds of things and
the people who worked hard to build and run America
.
"
 
Jolene fell into the words and they tumbled from her lips with the surety of forever.  She looked from
Patrick
to his mother and back again. 

Her heart was bursting with the revelation.
 
"
My mother
'
s father was a coal min
e
r.  And much further back, his great granddaddy was a Revolutionary war soldier.  M
y
daddy
'
s dad
served in World War II.  M
y father served in Vietnam to stop the spread
of communism and his daddy stopped the march across Europe.
"
  Jolene
'
s
heart
was
burning. 
"
So that makes me American royalty.  It
'
s a different kind of royalty…you have to do things that are really hard to be that kind of royalty.
"

Patrick
stared at her
,
his eyes purple and shining. 
"
Well then, I could not have said it better myself.
"

His mother lowered her head slightly and then went to pick up a tissue from a pretty porcelain box holder and dabbed her eyes. 
"
So there you are then.  How am I going to argue with that?  My own family picked potatoes that fed the starving long before I was here
.
"

Jolene smiled large. 
"
When you thi
nk of it, royalty has to start someplace doesn
'
t it
?
"

Patrick
laughed and shook his head. 
"
Indeed Jolene, royalty has to start someplace.
"

Jolene tilted her head. 
"
And
after all
my
daddy always did call me a princess.
"

C
hapter
26

T
he Irish arrived at a time of need for
labor in
America. The country was growing and it needed men to do the heavy work of building bridges, canals, and railroads.
The work was hard and
dangerous
.  A
common expression heard among the railroad workers was "an Irishman was buried under every tie." De
speration
drove them to these jobs.

T
he
Irish
women
worked
too. They became chamber maids, cooks, and the caretakers of children. Early Americans disdained this type of work, fit only for servants, the common sentiment
was
, "Let Negroes be servants, and if not Negroes, let Irishmen fill their place..."

When asked why all the women servants in his hotel were Irish, a
prominent hotel keeper replied, "The thing is very simple: the Irish girls are industrious, willing, cheerful, and honest--they work hard, and they are very strictly moral. I should say that is quite reason enough."

The Irish were
singular
among immigrants
in that while t
hey fiercely loved America
,
they
never gave up their allegiance to Ireland.
Thinking that they could trade Canadian land for Ireland’s freedom, t
w
ice they tried to invade Canada
.

In New York City, during the Civil War, they rioted against the draft lottery after the first drawing showed most of the names were Irish.
After
three days
of the city being
terrorized by Irish mobs an appeal for peace by Archbishop Hughes end
ed the violence
. In Pennsylvania they formed a secret organization called the Molly Maguires to fight mine owners who brutalized the miners and their families. They ambushed mine bosses, beat, and even killed them in their homes. The Irish used
violent
methods to fight
suffocating
oppression.

But they
loved America and
eagerly
fought in her wars. During the Civil War they were fierce warriors, forming among other groups, the famous "Irish Brigade". A priest accompanied them and, before each battle, they would pray together before charging
into battle
--even against insurmountable odds. Their faith guided
and protected
them. They
knew
they were going to have a better life after death.

"
Get yourself dressed up Jolene.
"

Patrick
stood in the doorway of Jolene
'
s room leaning against the door jam.
  She had only been there a day staying in the corner bedroom that was elegantly decorated in shades of blue.  She had an amazing view of the breathtaking gardens and the rolling hills beyond sprinkled with sheep.  It truly was a fairy tale setting.

Jolene stood up from the
walnut
writing desk that was older than her granddaddy, her heart thumping just as it always did when she saw
Patrick
. 
"
Where are we going?
"

"
On a special carriage ride around the estate.  I want to talk to you about something important.
"

He looked so serious, Jolene was suddenly afraid. 
Patrick
only looked like that when he had something grave to tell her. 
"
Is everything okay
Patrick
?  I mean, are you going to tell me something bad?
"
 

He smiled. 
"
No sweetheart, we are going for a nice ride to see the flowers and drink a bit o
'
sparkling wine
.
"

"
In the middle of the day?
  This isn
'
t Derby day.
"

Patrick
chuckled, his eyes happy and shining into hers like a full moon on Derby day. 
"
I
'
ll leave you
Little
Red
.  You pick out something you really want to wear, something that makes you feel beautiful, yer put it on and come down the steps.  I
'
ll be waiting for you.
"

When he left,
Jolene put on her pink
silk
dress
with anticipation running her blood
.  She loved that dress. 
Patrick
had bought it for her
as
a graduation dress.  He knew she liked frilly things.  She
also
put on the set of pearls he bough
t for her.  Whenever she wore this dress
,
Patrick
got this look in his eye with such heat.  She knew he liked to see her in it.  For some reason on this day it seemed the thing to do. 
With
sparkling wine
involved
it had to be a special day.