The Gallaghers of Ballinrobe
IN MARCH 2020, Pat Gallagher had an idea. He asked his brother, Owen, what he thought of writing a book about the family of their father, James Gallagher, who grew up in the early decades of the 20th century in the West of Ireland in the small town of Ballinrobe, County Mayo. The shutdown from COVID-19 was just beginning, and the thinking was they would have more time on their hands than usual. What better way to spend quarantine than exploring the stories of our aunts, uncles and other relatives. The task turned out to be much more complicated (and rewarding) than anticipated. It involved sifting through ship manifests, census, birth and marriage records, newspaper archives, and, most enjoyable, sessions delving into the memories of extended-family members. Sorely missed was the chance to hear first-hand the tales from our deceased cousins John O'Brien and Pete Gallagher. This book's stories and more than 500 images are the result of the past year's journey. The goal was both simple and ambitious: making the memories of the Gallaghers of Ballinrobe ours forever.
IN MARCH 2020, Pat Gallagher had an idea. He asked his brother, Owen, what he thought of writing a book about the family of their father, James Gallagher, who grew up in the early decades of the 20th century in the West of Ireland in the small town of Ballinrobe, County Mayo. The shutdown from COVID-19 was just beginning, and the thinking was they would have more time on their hands than usual. What better way to spend quarantine than exploring the stories of our aunts, uncles and other relatives.
The task turned out to be much more complicated (and rewarding) than anticipated. It involved sifting through ship manifests, census, birth and marriage records, newspaper archives, and, most enjoyable, sessions delving into the memories of extended-family members. Sorely missed was the chance to hear first-hand the tales from our deceased cousins John O'Brien and Pete Gallagher. This book's stories and more than 500 images are the result of the past year's journey. The goal was both simple and ambitious: making the memories of the Gallaghers of Ballinrobe ours forever.
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they saw those hats,” Patsy said in re-telling the story of the
visit, which also involved Annie Sheridan developing a
strong affection for Aunt Nora. After a number of years had
passed, Annie offered to sponsor Nora if she wanted to
come to America. But Nora apparently had other plans or
obligations and was reluctant to take the chance.
I’ll go, said Aunt Delia.
ARRIVAL IN AMERICA
On Oct. 21, 1924, incumbent Republican U.S.
President Calvin Coolidge was headed toward an easy reelection,
with the American economy booming and no
visible crises abroad. Prohibition had begun three years
previous, but you can’t have everything.
On that Tuesday, the weather was cool with a
strong northwest wind as the SS Aurania entered New York
Harbor and approached the Statue of Liberty and Ellis
Island. Prodded by shipmates to rise early that day, Aunt
Delia was standing at the ship's railing when Lady Liberty
came into view out of the morning mist. She couldn't help
but proudly proclaim, “Give me liberty or give me death!”
as she slowly passed by the statue. The ship soon docked
around noon at Pier 56 on the west side of Manhattan.
For the ocean liner’s many immigrants aboard, this
was a life-changing moment. But at least they would have
spent their more than a week at sea in relative comfort.
Theirs was not one of the “coffin ships” that saw thousands
of Irish perish while trying to escape the Great Famine in
the nineteenth century. According to a brochure from the
Cunard line, even third-class passengers aboard the brandnew
Aurania were well catered for in their two- and fourberth
cabins. They had access to a lounge, smoking room
and dining room, which had 20 or so tables. Each was set
with a linen tablecloth and full service for six people.
But the voyage was now over, and the passengers,
rich and poor, soon began to disembark from the Aurania
and head into New York and beyond. All but a few got off
immediately. Among the 43 detained was Aunt Delia. But
only briefly.
Just a few months previous, immigrants detained
after crossing the Atlantic had many reasons to worry as
they awaited a decision on their fate at Ellis Island and
other entry points. But the U.S. Immigration Act of 1924
formalized dramatic changes. Instead of traveling to the
United States with uncertainty about being admitted,
hopeful immigrants now applied for permission at U.S.
consulate offices overseas. It was at that point officials
decided if a person was healthy enough to enter the U.S.
Aunt Delia relaxes in a photo from her early years in
America. She was with a friend that day, Peggy
Newell, with whom she lost touch over the years. It
was recently discovered that Peggy, as with her dear
friend, eventually moved to Delaware. They are buried
two rows apart in Cathedral Cemetery.
and if he or she fit into strict new quotas imposed on
immigration.
So Aunt Delia’s problem upon arrival in New
York was not a visa or physical exam. The reason she was
detained at 1:50 p.m., according to a page of the Aurania’s
manifest titled “Record of Detained Aliens,” was “to call.”
That was apparently bureaucratic shorthand meaning no
one was there to greet her. By 4:10 p.m., Aunt Delia was
“discharged” with the arrival of cousin Katie Mellet. Katie
herself had arrived in New York only a month earlier,
aboard the SS Scythia. She was about two years younger
than Delia.
The Aurania’s manifest indicates: Aunt Delia had
$88 with her (more than most steerage passengers; her
65