| Letters and Diary Fiction posted September 25, 2016 |
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Prose Potatch Challenge Piece
Those Irish Micks
by michaelcahill
The Chicago Daily News
44 Windy Way
Chicago, Illinois
To whom it’s concernin’
Now, I’m not much for fancy talk and all that. But it seems to me there’s got to be some sense applied to this whole immigration issue here. Things have been gettin’ on in peaceful fashion what with the negroes and Chinese comin’ along with the way things are here in Chicago. The smoked-Irish and the Chincs can fit in okay, but those damn Micks wanna brawl with their reflection in the mirror.
These Irish are pourin’ in here like rats off of a ship on fire or something. I thought Ireland was a little bit of a place nigh on big enough for those little green folk they sing about. But here they are, boat after drunkin’ boat of ‘em. What the hells a happenin’ over there that makes a man leave his motherland?
I’m guessin’ those Irish officials are hand-pickin’ the dregs there and sendin’ them our direction. Well, we’re not here to take care of Ireland’s castoffs. They gots their own laws, they should deal with them.
Isn’t there some kind of group of folks to take a look at them at least, ya know, to see what they’s fit to set foot here in our beloved state? Well they ain’t a lookin’ too close then, the way I sees it.
Ya can’t walk into a bar now without a fight breakin’ out. The businesses won’t hire ‘em so they take to robbin’ them. Brawlin’, drinkin’ and thievin’ … that’s your Irishman in a word. And STILL they let ‘em in every day, boatloads and boatloads of ‘em.
Mark my words, the damn Irish will be the death of this country. If you ask me, the smart move is to send them right back where they came from. I’m a lookin’ around here and I’m speculatin’ that Ireland must be as quiet as a church. There couldn’t be more than a few dozen left there now. They’re all here.
If that ain’t enough, my wife’s takin’ up with one. Some sumbitch named O’Cahill. Well, he done took that “O” part right off’n there. Guess that will throw us off the trail. You’re still a drunken, brawlin, thievin’, wife stealin’ sumbitch with or without an “O”.
Well, that’s my piece. I’m just sittin’ here with my young’uns prayin’ that harlot wife a mines comes to her senses. Send ‘em back to Ireland I say. If any ya’ll see my wife Gertrude, you whip her butt and send her home. We’re starvin’ here.
Regards, John Emmerick
This letter to the editor was tucked in Gertie Cahill’s Bible which was sent to me upon her passing just over fourteen years ago. It’s in the Chicago Daily News dated June 23, 1889.
I’ve been tracing my ancestry so I have an interest in such things. Her full name was Gertrude Helen Mary Cahill. We determined she first married a John Emmerick before taking up with great grandfather Bruce Edward Cahill. Her maiden name was Rutherford, an English name.
I’ve traced the Rutherford name back to Biblical days. The Emmerick name, as well, goes back to England and the Emmerick ancestors were among the founders of this nation.
Bruce Edward’s mother’s name was Mary. I’ve never found any record of her though I’ve searched a plethora of Irish records. My half-brother is Bruce Edward Cahill III and his son is Bruce Edward Cahill the IV. My mom was hospitalized with mental illness about half of my life. She refused to have me named Bruce. Thanks Mom.
Just a little background history. To set the record straight, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Who says the Cahill’s don’t belong in America?
Historically, the Irish were the first wave of immigrants to reach our shore. A terrible famine hit Ireland in the mid-eighteen hundreds and spurred the Exodus from Ireland. They were second-class citizens up until the election of John F. Kennedy, the first Irish Catholic President. Of course, there was one other major contribution the Irish made to America … me. LOL
The Chicago Daily News
44 Windy Way
Chicago, Illinois
To whom it’s concernin’
Now, I’m not much for fancy talk and all that. But it seems to me there’s got to be some sense applied to this whole immigration issue here. Things have been gettin’ on in peaceful fashion what with the negroes and Chinese comin’ along with the way things are here in Chicago. The smoked-Irish and the Chincs can fit in okay, but those damn Micks wanna brawl with their reflection in the mirror.
These Irish are pourin’ in here like rats off of a ship on fire or something. I thought Ireland was a little bit of a place nigh on big enough for those little green folk they sing about. But here they are, boat after drunkin’ boat of ‘em. What the hells a happenin’ over there that makes a man leave his motherland?
I’m guessin’ those Irish officials are hand-pickin’ the dregs there and sendin’ them our direction. Well, we’re not here to take care of Ireland’s castoffs. They gots their own laws, they should deal with them.
Isn’t there some kind of group of folks to take a look at them at least, ya know, to see what they’s fit to set foot here in our beloved state? Well they ain’t a lookin’ too close then, the way I sees it.
Ya can’t walk into a bar now without a fight breakin’ out. The businesses won’t hire ‘em so they take to robbin’ them. Brawlin’, drinkin’ and thievin’ … that’s your Irishman in a word. And STILL they let ‘em in every day, boatloads and boatloads of ‘em.
Mark my words, the damn Irish will be the death of this country. If you ask me, the smart move is to send them right back where they came from. I’m a lookin’ around here and I’m speculatin’ that Ireland must be as quiet as a church. There couldn’t be more than a few dozen left there now. They’re all here.
If that ain’t enough, my wife’s takin’ up with one. Some sumbitch named O’Cahill. Well, he done took that “O” part right off’n there. Guess that will throw us off the trail. You’re still a drunken, brawlin, thievin’, wife stealin’ sumbitch with or without an “O”.
Well, that’s my piece. I’m just sittin’ here with my young’uns prayin’ that harlot wife a mines comes to her senses. Send ‘em back to Ireland I say. If any ya’ll see my wife Gertrude, you whip her butt and send her home. We’re starvin’ here.
Regards, John Emmerick
This letter to the editor was tucked in Gertie Cahill’s Bible which was sent to me upon her passing just over fourteen years ago. It’s in the Chicago Daily News dated June 23, 1889.
I’ve been tracing my ancestry so I have an interest in such things. Her full name was Gertrude Helen Mary Cahill. We determined she first married a John Emmerick before taking up with great grandfather Bruce Edward Cahill. Her maiden name was Rutherford, an English name.
I’ve traced the Rutherford name back to Biblical days. The Emmerick name, as well, goes back to England and the Emmerick ancestors were among the founders of this nation.
Bruce Edward’s mother’s name was Mary. I’ve never found any record of her though I’ve searched a plethora of Irish records. My half-brother is Bruce Edward Cahill III and his son is Bruce Edward Cahill the IV. My mom was hospitalized with mental illness about half of my life. She refused to have me named Bruce. Thanks Mom.
Just a little background history. To set the record straight, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Who says the Cahill’s don’t belong in America?
Historically, the Irish were the first wave of immigrants to reach our shore. A terrible famine hit Ireland in the mid-eighteen hundreds and spurred the Exodus from Ireland. They were second-class citizens up until the election of John F. Kennedy, the first Irish Catholic President. Of course, there was one other major contribution the Irish made to America … me. LOL
I’ve been tracing my ancestry so I have an interest in such things. Her full name was Gertrude Helen Mary Cahill. We determined she first married a John Emmerick before taking up with great grandfather Bruce Edward Cahill. Her maiden name was Rutherford, an English name.
I’ve traced the Rutherford name back to Biblical days. The Emmerick name, as well, goes back to England and the Emmerick ancestors were among the founders of this nation.
Bruce Edward’s mother’s name was Mary. I’ve never found any record of her though I’ve searched a plethora of Irish records. My half-brother is Bruce Edward Cahill III and his son is Bruce Edward Cahill the IV. My mom was hospitalized with mental illness about half of my life. She refused to have me named Bruce. Thanks Mom.
Just a little background history. To set the record straight, I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Who says the Cahill’s don’t belong in America?
Historically, the Irish were the first wave of immigrants to reach our shore. A terrible famine hit Ireland in the mid-eighteen hundreds and spurred the Exodus from Ireland. They were second-class citizens up until the election of John F. Kennedy, the first Irish Catholic President. Of course, there was one other major contribution the Irish made to America … me. LOL
There's some accuracy here in the ancestral names. Those are indeed the names on my tree. The story itself is fiction but based on the very real bigotry that existed towards the Irish back in the day and perhaps quite a ways forward.
All of the references like "smoked Irish" are easy to find online. You'll find quite a bit of interesting information to go along with it.
The Irish were the first wave of immigrants to flee an untenable situation in their homeland and seek a new life and new hope in America. Every influx of immigrants has been treated the exact same way in the land of the free and the home of the brave.
I'll leave each reader to contemplate that on their own.
Today's Potlatch challenge was to write a letter to the editor from a time in the past. There are several great entries to seek out for a great read.
There's no time limit or rules if you'd like to join the fun. Go to the Challenges Forum or message me for details. Basically, write a piece and post it. Then let us know you did. That's it. :))
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