The high price of free speech - Muslim and Irish protests against hate

Anti-U.S. protests in Ankara, Turkey last week (AP)

In 1849, Irish immigrants were a key participant in what came to be known as the Astor Place Riots. At least two dozen people were killed. 

Why?  The participants were battling over which Shakespearean actor was the era’s best -- England-born William Charles Macready (despised by the Irish) or American-born Edwin Forrest. 

Twenty five years later, Irish American anger at newspaper cartoonist (and anti-Irish bigot) Thomas Nast was so high police officers had to be posted outside of Nast’s home.

So as we watch predominately-Muslim countries explode into violence over an idiotic film, perhaps we should not be surprised.  At one time or another, people of divergent background have reacted violently to books or art or plays or movies.

But it’s not the 1800s anymore.  And just because people have always done this does not make it right. 

The fact that four people had to die because some nincompoop named Nakoula Basseley Nakoula chose to make a bad movie about the prophet Mohammed is a tragedy.  The fact that large numbers of people in countries from Tunisia to Afghanistan believe this violence is justifiable -- and that artists
can be bullied into silence -- is a long-term problem for America.

And here’s another unfortunate thing. European nations, including Ireland, also believe that controversial religious material is best not discussed.  The implied message here seems to be that saying naughty things about another person’s religion is simply too much trouble.  It can, obviously, lead to violence. 

But rather than focus on the fact that a very small but very vocal minority of religious people seem to want to live as if it is still the seventh century, activists and lawmakers from Dublin to Cairo feel it is best to simply not talk about certain subjects.

“We don’t think that depictions of the prophets are freedom of expression. We think it is an offense against our rights,” Ismail Mohamed, a religious scholar, told The New York Times. 

“We want these countries to understand that they need to take into consideration the people … the West has to understand the ideology of the people.”

Mohamed was basically attempting to explain why anger in the Islamic world has boiled over.  He was also arguing that freedom of expression - so cherished and prized in the United States - is an inadequate defense of a movie which depicts the Prophet Mohammed as a womanizer and buffoon.

But here’s the thing -- much of “The West” already agrees with this.  America is pretty much the only country left where freedom of speech generally covers controversial religious material. 

Lest we forget, Ireland itself passed a controversial blasphemy law in 2009.  You may not agree with famed atheist

Richard Dawkins, who said that Ireland’s law would send the nation spiraling back into the Middle Ages.

However, this law - like similar laws passed by other European nations - does send a message to devoutly religious people that their rights are more important than the rights of anyone who might want to criticize certain aspects of any given religion.

From there, it’s not a great leap to simply taking the law into your own hands -- launch a rocket, storm an embassy.  Why not?  It’s my duty to my God.

I have long argued that people should be reverent and respectful about religion.  But part of living in a big, modern world is understanding that people inevitably disagree with you. 

Ultimately, as ugly as those disagreements can get, people must have a protected right to express those disagreements. 

The trouble is, those rights are fading.  Books such as Jeremy Waldron’s The Harm in Hate Speech argue that more - not fewer - restrictions on expression must be passed.  And many countries are doing just that.

Even U.S. authorities, for some reason, felt they had to detain Nakoula Basseley Nakoula, a sight nearly as chilling as the angry protests inspired by his dumb movie.

The proper response to anything that can be called “hate speech” is more speech.  Passionate debate.  The organization of peaceful protests. 

Yes, this forces us to condone the speech of bigots and idiots.  To paraphrase Winston Churchill, this is the worst system - except for every other one.

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tdeignan.blogspot.com or tomdeignan@earthlink.net)

BBC America’s “Copper” - in search of New York’s Five Points

A still from BBC America's 'Copper'

Irish Americans shouldn’t need Hollywood or the BBC to tell them where one of the most famous Irish neighborhoods in New York used to be.

I was thinking about this last month, when I paid a visit to the great Old Town bar on East 18th Street, owned for the longest time by the Meagher family.  It is a stalwart bar in an ever-changing city, and one of the few places you can still find an Al Smith campaign poster.

I was joined by writer and historian Kevin Baker, author of several excellent novels, including Paradise Alley, set among Irish immigrants in the old Five Points section of downtown Manhattan. Inevitably we began talking about the new BBC America series Copper, about an Irish immigrant cop, set in the Five Points.

There was also an angry, hand-written sign in the window of the Old Town that made this topic impossible to ignore.

“The Brits are at it again,” the sign read.  “BBC has produced a series on New York during the Civil War when half the metropolis was peopled by Irish driven from their homes by Victoria, a dowager so homely they could only marry her off to a first cousin, Albert, a German midget who couldn’t speak English.  It is indeed ironic that the Irish starved as Victoria, a fat slob, stuffed her mouth with groceries.”

The sign continued, “As usual, BBC depicts the New York Irish as a collection of tramps, idlers and thieves.  They even have the main character, an Irish copper, portrayed by a Welshman.  (Irish actors need not apply.)  As part of a New York Irish family since the 1820s that established successful businesses before the Civil War, we reject the Brits’ cartoon. 

“Ya gotta give it to the Brits.  They are consistent.”

I will respectfully disagree with the Old Town’s house TV critic, at least about the quality of the show Copper, if not necessarily about the rotundity of Queen Victoria. 

However, the airing of Copper does represent an important opportunity to address another matter of interest to Irish New Yorkers.

Just where were the Five Points located?

The Five Points have got to be the hottest piece of real estate no one can find on a map.  They are a notorious slice of hell that have been the subject of fascination going all the way back to 1842 when none other than Charles Dickens toured the area and declared, “Debauchery has made the very houses prematurely old. See how the rotten beams are tumbling down, and how the patched and broken windows seem to scowl dimly, like eyes that have been hurt in drunken frays.”

History books will tell you that the Five Points name derives from the intersection of today’s Baxter and Worth Streets.  But that’s not what the streets were named in the 1860s. 

The real problem is that if you stand today at the intersection of Baxter and Worth Streets, northeast of City Hall, there is nothing to tell you that this, in fact, is where the notorious Five Points once stood.

Perhaps there is no point in erecting something like a memorial to the Five Points.  Life there was harsh, and it’s probably best for all involved that the slum is so more. 

Nevertheless, there is much to be learned from the Five Points about the Irish, immigration, poverty and perseverance.  So there should be something to let tourists as well as native New Yorkers know where the Points once stood.

I recommend the Collect Pond Park, a block north and west from the original Five Points, on Leonard Street, between Centre and Lafayette.  Collect Pond was a body of water actually used for drinking until the early 1800s, when the area was solidly middle class. 

Bungled municipal efforts to fill the pond created a festering swamp which bred disease - hence, middle class New Yorkers fled, leaving the Five Points to become an impoverished immigrant enclave.

The New York City Parks Department, which is currently renovating Collect Pond Park, should include efforts to explain what and where the Five Points were before the park reopens this fall. 

I think even the Old Town bar TV critic would agree that New Yorkers should know at least as much about the Five Points as Hollywood and the BBC.

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tdeignan.blogspot.com or tomdeignan@earthlink.net)

The problem with Irish American racism

A sixties portrait of William Melvin Kelley

His name was Kelley and he was from the Bronx.  But the Irish kids still did not like him.

The current issue of Harper’s magazine features a memoir written by novelist William Melvin Kelley.
Kelley explores the complex ways skin color, language and bigotry have influenced his own life, as well as recent American history.

“I grew up in the Northeast Bronx with the children of Italian immigrants who mostly embraced me,” Kelley writes at one point. 

Later, he adds, “My Italo friends much preferred me to most Irish kids.”

Then, Kelley recounts a particularly ugly incident.

“One day one of a group of Irish kids passing through our block called me a n****r.  My Creole mother had armed me against this, without going into it very deeply -- anybody who called me a n****r had simultaneously demonstrated his ignorance and his inferiority. 

“I should dismiss the comment as I would dismiss the utterance of a parrot.  So, when the Irish kid called me n****r, I assumed an attitude of superiority and condescension.”

Kelley’s friends were not so kind.  They doled out a beating to “the Irish kid, whom they’d caught while his companions ran away.”

Even when Kelley’s education took him to elite schools and prestigious museums, it seems there was always an Irish American around to remind him of the persistence of racism.

“In 1944 I started attending Fieldston, a Euro and predominately Jewish progressive private school,” Kelley writes.  “Over the next 12 years I went wherever my class went, to the Met and MoMA, to Carnegie Hall, to see Scribner make pulp paper for special editions.

“I went through the front entrance when I went to visit my friends on Fifth or Park Avenues.  Their parents had warned the Irish doormen not to turn me away.”

There is no reason to doubt Kelley’s recollections because, sadly, they are utterly plausible.

His memoir does, however, force us to confront a nasty little question -- have Irish Americans really been disproportionately racist?

Kelley’s own memoir alone proves nothing.  It is the massive accumulation of memoirs, books, novels, movies and TV shows with narrow-minded Irish American characters that is more alarming. 

As with redneck whites (usually Scots-Irish, incidentally), Irish Catholic Americans are often the immoral center of a given story, a stubborn obstacle to be overcome whether we are talking about real life or fiction. 

From the New York City Draft Riots to the Boston bussing mess of the 1970s, some Irish Americans acted deplorably during tense racial times.

As for fiction, there’s Studs Lonigan and his band of brutes from the 1930s novels by (Irish Catholic) James T. Farrell. There’s the psychotic thug Artie West from the classic film Blackboard Jungle, who is finally conquered by his heroic teacher, who had earlier pointed out that West is “Irish American.”

There’s the “ferocious Irishmen” who assault Saul Bellow’s hero in the classic novel The Adventures of Augie March. There is the oppressive Dunn family from the book (and film) Looking for Mr. Goodbar. 

And there is Amy Waldman’s recent novel The Submission, about a Muslim-American architect who is selected to design a memorial at ground zero.  This is opposed by Sean Gallagher, whose brother, Patrick, was a firefighter killed that awful day. We see a not-so-subtle Islamophobia in Sean’s Irish American family.

Again, are Irish Americans truly worse in this area than other ethnic groups?  Or are they simply convenient mouthpieces for ugly thoughts?

The most honest effort to answer this question was a book released last March entitled The Irish Way: Becoming American in the Multi-Ethnic City.

Author James R. Barret argues that “nativist hostility toward the Irish created a defensiveness in their relations” with other groups.

Barrett makes a compelling case but it is far from definitive or satisfying. 

And so, we rightly feel for the victims of bigotry, such as William Melvin Kelley.

And we are left to wonder if Irish Americans need to more forcefully confront a dark chapter of their past? 

Or, instead, if writers and movie makers need to get a little more creative when it comes to creating their villains?

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tomdeignan@earthlink.net or visit tdeignan.blogspot.com)

When the Irish fought the Irish in the Mexican American war -VIDEO

A scene from BBC America's 'Copper'

Next month, the new TV show Copper will premiere on BBC America.  The show will explore the lives of cops and criminals in Manhattan during the time of the U.S. Civil War, so you know there will be plenty of Irish saints and sinners written into the show.

Irish actor Kevin Ryan is among the stars of Copper, while the producers include Tom Fontana, whose groundbreaking prison show Oz included the memorable character Ryan O’Reilly.

The fact that the British are producing a show about Irish American life is, at the very least, ironic.  But that’s a topic for another day.

Copper is set during a time of war and poverty, of tensions over immigration and patriotism.  That sounds familiar, right?

This very much should remind us of our own day.  Last week, in Brooklyn, however, there was another reminder of a similarly tense time that is not so well-remembered.

The setting was Green-Wood cemetery, an oasis of 19th century life (and death) in Brooklyn.

It was here that cemetery workers were joined by a military color guard for a ceremony honoring war veterans, among them numerous Irish Americans.

Men like James McCabe, Lieutenant Francis Boyle and Lieutenant Charles Gallagher had previously been interred under a marker simply stating “Mexico.”  According to The New York Times, these veterans had been lavishly honored at the time of their burial.  There were plans to erect an elaborate memorial to honor the veterans’ sacrifices.

“Sometime later, however, one of the people they city had charged with building an obelisk over the graves made off with the money for the monument,” the Times noted.

For years, little was known about Boyle, McCabe and Gallagher.  Here’s one thing we do know. These Irish American veterans may very well have been fighting against Irish immigrant soldiers.

The Mexican American war broke out in 1846, 15 years before America would be plunged into civil war.  At the time, America was a young nation anxious to expand. 

Mexico was struggling to maintain the vast lands previously controlled by the Spanish. Tensions between the two nations grew into all out war.

When all was said and done, America had acquired vast new tracts of previously Mexican land, a fact that riles many people to this day.

There is another thing the Mexican American war is famous for, and that is the St. Patricio Brigade. 
The Chieftains recently made an album bearing that name, while Black ’47 and others have sung songs in their honor. 

These were disenchanted, mostly Irish souls who sympathized with the fellow Catholic country of Mexico, and took up arms against the heavily Protestant, expansionist-minded United States.  They were led by Galway native Jon Riley and to this day are honored in Mexico.

It didn’t hurt that the Mexican army often offered higher pay and land grants to soldiers.

In their day, you can imagine how most Americans (even Irish immigrants to America) felt about the St. Patricios.  They were ungrateful traitors in the eyes of many and were treated as such when many of them were executed after the war.

Were the mythical St. Patricios honorably men of principle who understandably had no allegiance to an anti-Catholic nation which despised them? 

Or were they mercenaries bent on killing the many Irish Americans – including lieutenants Boyle and Gallagher – who stuck with America and went on to make it a great nation?

That’s probably too big a question to answer right now.  What is important for us to remember is that (to quote Billy Joel) the good old days weren’t always so good.

In particular, those Irish American super-patriots who run around today questioning peoples’ loyalty ought to ask themselves if they have set the bar for treason a bit too high. 

After all, imagine the scuttlebutt on Fox News if a band of immigrants got together to fight for Al Qaeda in Iraq or the Taliban in Afghanistan.

Imagine if there names were Kelly or Ryan or O’Neill or Riley.

Of course, we should remember Jon Riley, love him or hate him.  But Green-Wood Cemetery did the right thing last week so that we also remember the sacrifices of men like Francis Boyle and Charles Gallagher and James McCabe.

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tomdeignan@earthlink.net or facebook.com/tomdeignan)

Watch the promo video for 'Copper' here:

Movies, photos, posters, and literature - What objects define Irish America?

Billy the Kid

For celebrated writer Pete Hamill, you have to include a photo of Billy the Kid, “an Irish American from the Five Points who took Horace Greeley's advice and  went west.” 

For New York Times columnist Dan Barry, you must include movie posters from the  many 1930s films which focused on Irish American life, such as Angles with Dirty  Faces, The Roaring Twenties and The Fighting 69th.  

And to novelist Peter Quinn, an ironworker’s gloves and Eugene O’Neill’s desk are too important to ignore. 

Two weeks ago I wrote a column noting that there is worldwide interest these  days in trying to tell the story of a culture through a handful of physical objects.  

From Ireland to the U.K. to America, books have been written, museum  exhibits established and debates held over how certain objects can define a  culture. 

So I asked the question -- what objects define Irish America?  Boy, did I get a  lot of answers. 

Aside from Billy the Kid, Hamill, whose parents came from Belfast, suggested copies of sheet music written for the Irish in America, highlighting  tunes such as "I'll Take You Home Again, Kathleen."  

Hamill also suggested Jimmy  Cagney movie posters, tickets stubs from a John McCormack concert, Thomas Nast’s  infamous anti-Irish cartoons and Mike Quill’s Transit Workers Union I.D. card.   

Campaign buttons from Al Smith and JFK, the covers of James T. Farrell’s Studs Lonigan books, a Pogo comic strip by Walt Kelly, a photo of gangster Owney  Madden and (of course) press credentials from great Irish American journalists  were other items Hamill (quite a journalist himself) suggested. 

Gene Kelly

Quinn, author of Banished Children of Eve and Looking for Jimmy, suggested the following -- a grand marshal's sash from the Fifth Avenue St. Patrick's Day Parade, "Wild Bill" Donovan's Congressional Medal of Honor (housed in the 69th Regiment Armory on Lexington Avenue), the banner of the Irish Brigade, a bucket and scrub brush, O'Neill's desk, a nun's habit, sheet music from Harrigan and Hart, ironworker's gloves, a union pin (“or the sash my grandfather wore to lead the 1904 New York City Labor Day parade”), Gene Kelly's dancing shoes, the cap James Cagney wore in Yankee Doodle Dandy, a First Communion boy's arm band/girl's dress, a shovel or spade, Grace Kelly's riding outfit from Philadelphia Story, a fireman's helmet, Bing Crosby's bow tie, a bottle shard from the Five Points, a cop's billy club and (finally) Legs Diamond's pistol. 

It wasn’t just ink-stained wretches like Hamill and Quinn who responded. Reader Damian McShane of the Bronx, responding through Facebook, suggested a fight poster of famous boxer John L. Sullivan as well as Congressman Tip O’Neill's gavel. 

Maureen Duffy, of Salt Lake City, added, “You would of course need to find one of the signs that my great-grandfather and great-uncles saw again and again when looking for work in New York and Connecticut in the 1860's -- the signs that said Help Wanted: No Irish Need Apply. 

“And then, of course, there's the police van  which became termed (and still is) the ‘Paddywagon’ from its use in, supposedly,  picking up drunk and fighting Irishmen from the streets of New York and  depositing them in the ‘clink’ or ‘pokey’ (which are both slang phrases used by  the Irish designating gaol).” 

New York Times columnist Barry also wanted Irish American pop culture represented.  

“I would suggest something from George M. Cohan -- some sheet  music, perhaps. I know there's a statue of Cohan in the Fox Point section of  Providence, at the top of Wickenden Street. 

'Yankee Doodle Dandy' ad which starred James Cagney

“You might also consider a Warner  Brothers movie from the 1930s, one that captures that New York Irish  sensibility. There are plenty, whether gangster or military, starring Jimmy  Cagney, Pat O'Brien, and Frank McHugh. The Fighting 69th, Angels With Dirty  Faces, The Roaring Twenties.” 

Tom Murphy, who heads up the retirees chapter of the United Federation of Teachers (and also happens to be my cousin), suggested a host of more domestic  items, such as front door holy water fonts, lace curtains, St. Patrick’s Day  cards, women's tam-o-shanters and scarves, rosary beads/scapulars/crucifix, a  racing form or OTB ticket or the Irish Sweepstake receipt and prayer cards from  wakes.  

Murphy also suggested a voting booth, a photo of JFK, a Cead Mile Failte  plaque and (finally) last year’s palms, to be burned to ashes. 

Historian and author Thomas Fleming appreciated a suggestion I made two weeks  ago -- a copy of a famous book by Cotton Mather, which mentions the execution of Irish Catholic immigrant and accused witch Goody Glover, whose religion and  ethnicity made her a target. 

“In the tradition of Goody Glover,” Fleming wrote, “I'd suggest a picture of  Lyman Beecher, father of Harriet B. Stowe and Henry Ward Beecher. He crusaded  for decades against the Catholic (mostly Irish) menace. 

“He's got a face that emanates prejudice, a sort of permanent scowl.” 

Former Irish Voice reporter Georgina Brennan, replying from Ireland, wanted to  highlight Irish music. 

"A copy of McNally's Row of Flats by Mick Maloney, which contains some of the  best Irish children’s songs long, long ago forgotten." Readers Dick and Kit Wheatley also had music on their minds, reserving a special  place for the pipes played at funerals and any songs which long for “home.” 

Author and historian Kevin Baker went back to the 19th century, saying any story  of the Irish in the U.S. could not be told without a Union army field cap from  the Civil War or a banner representing the San Patricios, who fought on the side of Mexico in the Mexican-American war. 

Baker also suggested, “A growler, with which to talk about the constant, disastrous attempts by the codfish aristocracy to ‘tame’ the Irish through  temperance. A pair of tap shoes, Dagger John Hughes’ clerical robes, the  rusty-colored old priest’s frock Francis Cardinal Spellman liked to wear when he was pretending to be a simple country prelate around The Powerhouse and, finally, the spikes of Mike “King” Kelly, the first real Irish, team-sport  superstar.” 

Matt Patterson, a dentist working on the Duffy’s Cut archaeological project in  Pennsylvania, said we should “include a piece of railroad track and an item from a canal boat or mule harness that pulled canal boats.  

“The Irish built the  Eastern railroads and canals, and the Duffy’s Cut Project historians say that  for every mile of railroad and canal in this country, there's a dead Irishman.”

Reader Michael Brennan also had Pennsylvania on his mind. He suggested “company ‘money’ paid to the Irish in the Pennsylvania coal fields, good at the company store or bar but not the train station.”

Irish Brigade Civil War banners (from the North and South), a nun with a ruler  in her hand and a film clip showing George M. Cohan, played by Cagney, in  Yankee Doodle Dandy were also important to Brennan. 

What’s clear from all of this is that the story of the Irish in America is a  rich and diverse one.  

Gathering all of these artifacts would be quite a task.  Then again, compared to surviving in the U.S., it doesn’t seem so daunting.  

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tomdeignan@earthlink.net or facebook.com/tomdeignan) 

What objects define Irish America - defining a culture through a handful of physical items

President John F Kennedy

It is all the rage to attempt to define an entire culture through a handful of physical objects. 

Late last year, the American edition of the British book A History of the World in 100 Objects was published, following a hugely successful exhibition at the British Museum.

Similarly, acclaimed commentator Fintan O’Toole has been telling the history of Ireland in 100 objects, in conjunction with the National Museum of Ireland. 

O’Toole has cited a wide range of objects going back centuries, from a Mesolithic fish trap (5000 B.C.) to coins from the 1200s and 1400s.

All of this begs the question -- if we were going to try and tell the story of the Irish in America, what kind of objects could we look at?

This would be a vast undertaking which would require much more space than this single column.  It would also require the collective brainpower of most, if not all, of the 40 million Americans who claim Irish heritage. 

Please make your own suggestions.  (See contact information below)  Here are some of my own:

1) A copy of Cotton Mather’s 1689 book Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions. It seems downright treasonous to use such a fiercely Protestant book to tell the story of a heavily Catholic people, but that, of course, is the point. 

Mather’s book gives an account of the persecution of one Goodwife “Goody” Glover, an immigrant and devout Catholic who spoke the Irish language.  This did not help her when she was targeted as a witch, when four of her children fell ill.  She spoke Irish on the witness stand and was eventually hanged. 

Mather’s account is a harbinger of all of the trouble the Irish would face in New World in the coming centuries.

2) Along the same lines, I would also include George Templeton Strong’s diaries from the middle 19th Century. 

Though a rabid bigot, Strong’s account of the New York City Draft Riots and other key events during the heaviest periods of Irish immigration are invaluable.

3) Buttons, a pipe, a beer bottle, a bone tooth brush, pottery and more have been excavated by archaeologists digging at the site of the former Seneca Village in Central Park.  Located at 85th Street and Central Park West, Seneca Village was destroyed to make way for the famed park. 

Before that it was home to Irish immigrants as well as many African Americans.  The simple objects, and the diversity of the inhabitants, show that different people in New York City were not always at each other’s throats. 

The destruction of their homes also shows that life was never easy for an immigrant, even after you believed you’d found a new place to live.

4) A collector of political memorabilia recently spent $106 for a 7-inch ribbon from 1928 which reads: “Tammany Hall: Smith and Walker.”

In terms of saying a lot in just a few words, this artifact is priceless.  Tammany Hall, for all its corruption, nurtured Irish American political power for nearly a century. 

Al Smith, that rare creature, a loyal Tammany Man untainted by corruption, ran for president in 1928.  He faced a wave of bigotry led by the resurgent Ku Klux Klan. 

And Jimmy Walker?  Well, the playboy mayor of New York proved every stereotype about Tammany politicians true.  At least he also showed that not all Catholics were disturbed by adultery.

5) Irish-born sculptor Augusts Saint Gaudens statue of Abraham Lincoln in Chicago’s Lincoln Park.  This shows not only a great (and very American) cultural contribution by a prominent Irish artist, but also would lead to discussion about the very complex relationship the Irish had with perhaps the greatest U.S. president.

6) A membership list from the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP).  Since there is no ignoring the Catholic element of the Irish story in America, there is also no way to ignore the revelations of the last 15 years or so.

7) JFK’s top hat.  There is such a glut of Kennedy stuff, ranging from the tragic to the sentimental.  The hat he wore on inauguration day in 1961 (housed at the JFK Library in Boston) strikes me as perfectly playful, and, no, not particularly Irish.  Which means the poet Robert Frost was right to tell the president he should be “more Irish than Harvard.”

What objects do you believe represent Irish America?  Write your suggestions to  tomdeignan@earthlink.net.

Tammany Hall’s favorite Yankee “Big Bill” Devery

Yankee Stadium

If not for a colorful Irish American duo, Derek Jeter, A-Rod and the rest of the New York Yankees might be playing their home games in Baltimore this year.

Frank J. Farrell was an underworld fixture known for his gambling prowess.  “Big Bill” Devery was a controversial top cop with close ties to Tammany Hall.

Devery publicly clashed with former New York City police commissioner and future president Teddy Roosevelt, a spat described in the much-praised new book Island of Vice: Theodore Roosevelt’s Doomed Quest to Clean Up Sin-Loving New York.

“Above all, New York reigned as the vice capital of the United States, dangling more opportunities for prostitution, gambling, and all-night drinking than any other city in the United States,” author Richard Zacks notes in Island of Vice. 

“A man with a letch, a thirst, or an urge to gamble could easily fill it, night or day.  Saloon owners such as Mike Callahan, tossed their keys into the East River and never locked up.”

Mike Callahan was not the only Irishman who made Teddy Roosevelt’s New York such a colorful place – not to mention a nearly impossible place to cleanse of crime. 

One reason New York was such a difficult place to police was because of, well, the police.

That’s where “Big Bill” Devery comes in.  He “grew up neck deep in New York City vice, at least an Irish version of it,” Zacks writes, noting that an uncle who was not above making a buck on the wrong side of the law employed numerous members of the Devery clan. 

Nevertheless, Devery went on to join the New York City Police Department.  (More than likely, he bribed a Tammany operative in order to obtain the job.)

This is fitting because Devery would not only go on to become (as Zacks puts it) “the Tammany police captain,” he also fended off charges that he himself was not above making a buck on the wrong side of the law.

For what it’s worth, police officers often took bribes, in part, because it was so costly to attain the job in the first place. 

Devery, who was born in 1855, began his career as a bartender in watering holes on the Bowery.  He joined the police force in the late 1870s and in just over a decade he was a captain. 

He was stationed in one of Manhattan’s most notorious districts and he took advantage of it. It was said that he partnered with a tailor and if you wanted a favor, all you had to do was purchase one of the tailor’s suits – for $1,000!

It didn’t take long before reformers targeted Devery and numerous other Tammany operatives. 

Here’s where things get complicated.  While it was clear that Devery and others were corrupt, it was also clear their enemies were not merely interested in cleansing the city of voice. 

Often, anti-Tammany forces of reform dripped with barely-concealed derision, even anti-Irish, anti-Catholic sentiments.  Nevertheless, Tammany officials did not help the matter, engaging in blatant criminal activity.

Roosevelt and Devery had their most public clash in 1896.  By this time the Lexow Commission investigating police corruption had laid out its case against Devery in particular and the NYPD as a whole.

Devery managed to avoid charges, thanks in part to his selective memory on the witness stand.  Still, by the time Roosevelt had become head of the Board of Police Commissioners, he decreed that Devery not march in an annual, closely-watched police parade.

Nevertheless, not only had Devery evaded official charges, he decided to defy Roosevelt and march in the parade.  He was, naturally, received warmly by the pro-Tammany crowd.

“The parade was a dark episode for (Roosevelt),” NYPD historians James Lardner and Thomas Reppetto have written.

When Tammany regained City Hall, Devery was named police chief, a post he held until 1902, when he lost the post under corruption charges.

Devery remained active in Tammany politics, but his legacy is most alive today up in the Bronx. 

In 1903, Devery partnered with Frank Farrell to purchase a Baltimore baseball club for $18,000.
They moved the team to New York and renamed them the Highlanders, a name they kept until they were purchased by Colonel Jacob Rupert in 1915.

They went on to become the New York Yankees. 

(Contact “Sidewalks” at tomdeignan@earthlink.net or facebook.com/tomdeignan)