180 North Main Street
South Hadley MA 01075
September 9 2006
Sunday, August 6
I arrived from Boston at Shannon on Sunday morning, August 6, on my way to Crossmolina in Mayo. There was a light sprinkle and AutoEurope tried to give me the wrong rental car, with a standard transmission. I knew I wanted an automatic (I figured, rightly, that it would be bad enough driving on the left) and after getting one, I started a 130-mile drive north. After heading into the first rotary the wrong way, I yelled at myself, “Left side, dummy!”
I soon began to see the abandoned stone buildings that became more numerous the farther north I traveled, and which would become the signpost of my trip. I figured people or their animals inhabited these structures perhaps well into the twentieth century, and P.C. Judge would later tell me about some of them. But quickly, I wanted to know who lived in them? Why did they leave? Where did they go? Is the land still in the family?
The roads were well marked, especially at the “roundabouts” on the major roads. Once I got the map well positioned on the seat next to me, I turned on the radio and listened to a Sunday morning mass in the Irish language, and then a football, or maybe it was a hurling match. I would not have understood the match in English, never mind in Irish. Through Headford, Ballinrobe, and the other towns on the way, people were streaming into or out of church.
I did not need directions until Castlebar, some 100 miles north of Shannon. I still needed to continue north, but the N5 only went west to Westport or east to Swinford. I got directions to go through Castlebar to the R310 on the other side of town, and a recommendation to eat at the Pontoon Bridge Hotel. Instead, I found the Travellers Friend Hotel in Castlebar for a good lunch including more potatoes than I had ever seen on a single plate.
Upon arriving in Pontoon, on the shore of the Lough Conn, I wished I had waited to stop there to eat by the pristine lake. Maybe next time. As I left Pontoon, rural Mayo emerged. I drove several miles without seeing a person, never mind a car. At Lahardaun I saw my first road sign for Crossmolina, a welcome sight after several hours on the road, where a couple of more ventures into the American-trained right lane had brought me perilously close to more than one nervous but apparently understanding native.
I found the Kilmurray B&B where I would stay for four of my six nights. Madge Moffat has been running this one-time estate for years, and she was ironing clothes when I mistakenly entered by the kitchen. She welcomed me warmly.
As he and I had planned, I phoned Patrick Christopher (but known as “P.C.”) Judge. My brother Tony had met P.C. in 2004. P.C.’s daughter Caroline has visited Tony in Chicago and she had told me about Crossmolina, her family, and renting a car in Ireland. P.C. drove the maybe 4 miles from his home in the townland of Killocraun (a townland is part of a “greater” something else, Crossmolina in this case) into Crossmolina town to meet me where I stood on the bridge over the River Deel, watching the teenagers in the adjacent park, doing what teenagers do everywhere http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=16fdre2.jpg&.src=ph.
We left my car at the Crossmolina church and went to P.C.’s home, where I met his wife Una. Within minutes, I knew that I liked them both. Una fed me (as she did every time she saw me) and they helped me plan my week. P.C. suggested that we go on Monday to an annual agricultural fair, which we did. 83 of my photos of the fair and other stops of my week are at are at http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/album?.dir=9a7are2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/my_photos.
I spent a restful night at Kilmurray, having had next to no sleep the night before on the plane.
If you have read this far, you have may have looked at my photos. But if you are still reading, you must have some time on your hands, so I’ll continue with this fifteen-page postcard. Stop anytime, no offense. I’ve written this for me as well as for you.
Monday, August 7
I woke Monday morning to the sound of sheep and a look at the serene Kilmurray grounds http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=d7aere2.jpg&.src=ph.
The farm help lived in the stone structure on this once estate. Madge Moffat’s Irish breakfast was huge, with my cereal choice (Weatabix, which I had liked in England in the 1970’s), fried eggs, ham, the best sausage I’ve ever had, toast, hot muffins, “coffee or tea”, and the pleasant company of an English couple staying there. I would find that Madge’s breakfasts filled me until about 3 p.m., which is quite a feat for any cook.
P.C. and Una picked me up and we spent the morning at the fine Bonniconlon Fair, about six kilometers east of Ballina, which is about 9 kilometers east of Crossmolina. It is attended by thousands during the course of the day. There was pen after pen of animals and row after row of vegetables and all of their owners, across the large fair grounds, getting ready for the afternoon’s competition for the best of each. There were great displays and exhibits, including life size mannequins of what might have been two 19th century Irish farmer folk singers who moved believably, and whose instruments played reliably, when the concealed electricity was turned on http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=508fre2.jpg&.src=ph.
Their maker also had created a fantastic display of miniature farm equipment, where tractors and animals move electrically but realistically on well-hidden tracks, to the wonder of the two boys in the photo http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=3816re2.jpg&.src=ph.
The Irish band sang Patsy Cline. I love the Irish voice but I still prefer Patsy’s accent in her song.
P.C. and Una took me to a great lunch at Quattro’s in Ballina. We returned to Crossmolina to look for the postcards I had promised to send. We found none of Crossmolina, but some of Ballina. Knowing that I hoped to meet Tony Donohoe, author of “History of Crossmolina,” with whom I had corresponded about my genealogy, we “rang him up.” He invited us to his house for 5:30 pm and P.C. and I spent more than two hours with him. Although P.C. knows him, (P.C. seems to know most of the some 2,000 people in Crossmolina in one way or another) to my surprise, P.C. had not asked Tony his own genealogical questions. So, to my pleasure, the discussion with Tony would not be repetitive for P.C.
Tony’s charming wife Mary, who had taught in the townland of Richmond, and who had taught Una, greeted us. P.C. and I (and anyone else who has been willing to listen to me for the past few years) know that according to Griffiths Valuation, the essential record of the time, there were Judges in the Crossmolina townland of Owenboy in 1820. In 1850, there were four Judges listed together there, John, Daniel, Thomas, and Anthony, my great-great grandfather. We asked Tony if they were likely brothers, and he said “Yes.”
P.C.’s father was Tommy Judge and his father was John. P.C. noted that the Irish Judges married later than their American counterparts did. P.C. has his grandfather John’s marriage record, but unfortunately, John’s father is listed only as “Unknown Judge.” However, P.C. believes that he may have been Thomas, Anthony’s brother and if so, P.C. and I are third cousins once removed. Anthony’s 1903 obituary lists his only sibling as a brother John in West Virginia. Tony Donohoe said that with four brothers, at least one would probably have stayed in Ireland because he got the majority of the father’s land or to take care of aging parents. So P.C. and I figured that Thomas and perhaps Daniel stayed in Owenboy. Tony Donohoe said that a father would name his first son after his father and his second son after himself.
Anthony Judge married Barbara Loftus in Crossmolina in 1856, and I had brought with me questions from Marie O’Neill of West Springfield, MA and Paul Broderick of Whitinsville, MA, who, like me, are descendants of Patrick Loftus, Barbara’s father. Before I left, Marie reminded me that, “When you get to Crossmolina, don't forget about Mary Loftus who married Patrick Coughlin…Also, it would be nice if we could track down the Martin Loftus who was mentioned as an heir to Anne Loftus's estate.”
Marie also hoped that I could find a marriage record of Ellen Loftus, Barbara’s sister, and William Merrick, her first of two husbands, or their daughter Bridget Merrick. The pressure was on, so comfortable now in Tony’s well-appointed study, I began to ask more questions. Tony opened up the apparently appropriate book of parish records but he could not find a record of Ellen’s marriage to William, or their daughter. Well, I thought, I have a lot more questions here, and I was just getting warmed up.
Paul had given me some interesting thoughts a week before I had left:
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Dear Bob & Marie,
On page 506 of Tony D's History of Crossmolina, a Martin Loftus is mentioned in the write up about Creevy…This could be Catherine's brother, but it is hard to say for sure. Martin is a repeating name in the Loftus generations and this could be a cousin or uncle also…
Bob really has his work cut out for him if he hopes to unravel the Loftus mystery in a week…
I have not had accurate information to study the naming pattern, but the name Martin is very prominent in the family. I suspect that there is a Martin Loftus who was head of this family in the 1780's-1790's…
…For instance, Anthony Judge named his first-born son, John Judge. Anthony is using the naming pattern in fashion among the Irish at the time, naming his first-born son after his father… we can assume the third born son was named after Barbara's father. (Indeed, he was named Patrick, just like Barbara’s father.) …
… If you find a grave of a Michael, or a Martin Loftus in Carrowkilleen who died around 1810-1820, you are probably looking at the grave of a g.g.g.g. grandfather….I just want to stress the naming pattern for Bob before he leaves for Ireland. – Paul
I welcomed Paul’s information, although I realized that it left me fewer excuses to come home empty-handed. I sure did not think that I could “unravel the Loftus mystery in a week.” But I thought that maybe I could make another dent, while I waited for a break in some of the pleasantries between P.C. and Tony to spring more questions.
Paul had also asked me to see what I could find about Anthony McHale, his great-great grandfather, who Paul said married Catherine Loftus (another of Barbara’s sisters) sometime before 1875. So, I asked Tony. He grabbed another parish register and found a marriage date of January 13, 1874, with a reference to the townland of Creevy. Paul had said, “I am also interested in Anthony McHale/Catherine Loftus graves in Creevy. There may be a Paddy Joe McHale bouncing around Crossmolina.” Tony told me that Paddy Joe McHale was a hard working man who never married, and is now in a nursing home. Tony said, in his succinct way, “He’d be working now if he could but he ain’t.” Soon we were well into the three-way discussion about the Judges of Owenboy, and Tony told us about the Judge name’s derivation from Brehon or Breheny (or some ten other spelling variations), the original and respected law-givers of Ireland, and about which any Irish Judge with any genealogical interest already knows. Having by that then perhaps shown due respect to our Celtic heritage, Tony apparently felt comfortable enough to inform P.C. and I, but still only as a quick aside, that Judge is “a dirty English name.” I took no offense.
Tony is 88 and has been in his house since 1934. He told P.C. of his remorse about the abandoned houses that are all around Crossmolina (as well as the rest of what I saw of Ireland). He talked nostalgically about how when he was young, these now abandoned structures were full of people, with smoke curling from fine chimneys in neatly thatched roofs, surrounded by working farm animals.
I had also brought with me a list from Anne Hanlon of Burlington MA of her Crossmolina relatives and their photos, including one of her uncle Anthony Judge (1876-1970) of Crossmolina. Judge, like Loftus, is a common Mayo name, and Anne and I have not established any relationship between us. However, Tony identified the people in the 1940’s photos without even looking at the separate captions that Ann had given me, thereby proving to me that his memory is intact. Ann had asked me to procure for her a copy of Tony’s book, “A History of Crossmolina.” Tony told me that all one thousand had been sold, and that is it now only available from the Dublin publisher, http://www.deburcararebooks.com/crossmolina.htm. I read to Tony what Ann had written to me:
“Bob,
I have started a search on another "Judge" family. My mom’s cousins…who lived in Carrowskeheen, Crossmolina. It's highlighted on the map I sent...
Tony said that his second book, “Addergoole – its Land and People” was still available and that Addergoole (next to Crossmolina) contains the townland Carrowskeheen to which Ann had referred. Tony picked up a copy, opened to the section on Carrowskeheen and showed me that, “Prevailing family names: - Clarke and Judge”…and that at one time, there were only two tenants, including the “Widow Judge with 13 acres.” Tony assured me that he was not “trying to flog another book,” but of course I bought it for Ann and asked Tony to sign it, which he did, writing:
“Best wishes to Anne Hanlon,
I knew all these people on (your) list Bob showed me. I was friends with every one of them and I have good memories of them. The photos brought me back for many years- TD.”
I thanked Tony for his time. P.C. and I left him in his study, smoking his pipe, and appearing pleased that he had given me information that I had not had http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=28edre2.jpg&.src=ph.
P.C. and I returned to his home where I met his brother Tom and his wife Carmel. Tom works for Xerox. They live in Castlebar and we all had a fine conversation, late into the night.
Tuesday, August 8
After another of Madge’s breakfasts, I left for Belmullet, stopping at the Crossmolina cemetery on the way. The N59 road to Belmullet is desolate and surprising, as you approach a “Ghaeltacht” part of the country where Irish is still spoken. I took more photos of abandoned stone structures http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=8cfdre2.jpg&.src=ph,
but one of which, to my delight while I was in it, revealed itself to be now inhabited by a shy sheep, who seemed to be willing to share it with me
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=6434re2.jpg&.src=ph.
After other stops for photos on the way, I arrived in Belmullet and I saw a parked van with the marking, “McDonnell’s Funeral Directors and Public House, Est. 1942.” I confirmed with a woman on the sidewalk what I suspected, that the McDonnell’s run a funeral parlor and a bar, which it occurred to me, might be convenient for certain customers http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=c82are2.jpg&.src=ph.
I arrived at the Drom Caoin B&B where in 2004 the Irish-speaking proprietor, Máirín Maguire-Murphy) had told my brother Tony that “…your name…it should read Antoine Mac an Bhreithimh. Now to explain… Breitheamh = Judge = nominative case. 'Bhreithimh' is the genitive case and 'son of' takes the genitive case. Mac = son, 'an', really means 'the' so basically the translation is 'son of the judge.'
Máirín is the Irish for Mary, and her husband Gerry told me she was on her way to the airport with a guest who it turned out had determined, to Máirín’s chagrin, that he could save a few euros by flying to Germany from the airport at Knock instead of directly from Dublin. I drove out to the Belmullet peninsula, but when it started to rain, and I came upon a foreboding sign only in Irish, on a desolate road, I took the easy way out and I headed back to the town. I had a wonderful supper at the Án Cheibh (the Anchor Bar) including my first Guinness since I was in England in the 1970’s. If we had that Guinness on draft here, I could become a beer drinker. They would have let me stay there all night on one Guinness if I wanted to and if I had not been anxious to rise early on Wednesday, I might have.
Wednesday, August 9
I chatted with Máirín the next morning and with the nice German couple at my table. She spoke good English, but he none, so after enough coffee, I tried out on him, “Ich habe sprechen nur un kleine Deutsch in dreizig jahren, aber Ich verstehe un bichen jezt” which was my version of “I have only spoken a little German in thirty years but I still understand a little.” He either understood it or pretended to do so and it set off several “schönes vochenendes” and “auf wiedersehens.” But I was anxious to get back to my new friends P.C. and Una, and I had more genealogy work to do. Still, I took some time to stop at a haunting abandoned graveyard near Bangor http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=c34are2.jpg&.src=ph,
a government Peat Deposition site at Srahmore http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=8ceere2.jpg&.src=ph,
having been given a short course in peat by P.C. on Monday, and the Bellacorick Wind Farm http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=93eare2.jpg&.src=ph
(P.C. thinks that the wind farms will not work for Ireland.) The government peat site, the wind farm, and a cooling tower caught my eye because they are about the only signs of the twentieth century in the 40 kilometers between Crossmolina and Belmullet, while you see those abandoned stone buildings every couple of miles.
I grabbed a quick bite at Hiney’s excellent pub in Crossmolina, and then stopped in the Loftus clothing store. The manager, a maybe 35 year old son of the owner Kevin Loftus (P.C. knows Kevin, and said he might be interested in talking Loftus with me, but I never got to him), asked me where I was from. I said, “Massachusetts, but my great-great-great grandfather was Patrick Loftus from here.” A middle age female customer he knew came in and heard our conversation. He said to her, “He’s from the States, but his ancestor was from here, a Loftus.” She said to me, “Oh, you might want to talk with Mrs. Loftus. She is over in the tearoom. Her husband drowned a few years ago (P.C. had already told me about the drowning of this apparently well-known Loftus).” But then, referring to genealogy, she laughed, “But only the Yanks do that.”
I met up with P.C and we went to the North Mayo Heritage Centre to see genealogist Bridie Greevey but we were told she would not be in until Thursday. No problem. We went to Kilmurry Cemetery http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=f85fre2.jpg&.src=ph,
where P.C. told me that all were buried until the Crossmolina Cemetery was opened about thirty years ago. I was not concerned with finding Judges (Anthony and Barbara had made it successfully to South Hadley in 1861, and eventually to St. Jerome’s cemetery in Holyoke) but I was looking for any descendants of Patrick Loftus. Most of his daughters emigrated to America, and Paul, Marie, and I are each descended from a different daughter. But we believe that most if not all of the sons stayed in Ireland, so I was looking for any sign of them. There are some Loftus graves in the cemetery but most of them are in the new, twentieth century section.
While looking for Loftus, I saw a lot of Gallagher (or similar spellings) gravestones in Kilmurray. Patrick Loftus married Nancy Gallagher, presumably in the 1820’s, but that’s back too far to have a realistic hope of finding a record, such as the names of her parents, for instance. I took photos of non-related Judge headstones and of the other most legible ones, including one from 1776 http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=dfe4re2.jpg&.src=ph.
But I was disappointed to find that the old section of Kilmurray Cemetery is in disrepair. It looks like someone has gone in there, dug up the graves, and then reburied everybody quickly, as you can see in http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=2acbre2.jpg&.src=ph!
There are holes where grass has now grown half in, and there are piles of rocks everywhere, as if they had been dug up for the graves, but never taken away. The grass has not been cut, but you could hardly cut it between the holes and rock piles. There are huge headstones, but many stones are overturned, and because most are faded, you inevitably stand on them to get the best view for reading them. I feared that someone like me standing on one would surely cause one to break soon. The newer section of the cemetery is well maintained, however, and the difference puzzled me. Surely there are people, perhaps even local, who would want the graves of their 19th century and even earlier ancestors maintained.
I had no expectation of finding a definitive Loftus relation and I am told that only prominent people had those big headstones. So, the big headstone I found of John Judge http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=dbcfre2.jpg&.src=ph
would not be Anthony’s father, because although as a landholder listed in Griffiths he was not poor by then standards, there is no reason to think he was “prominent.”
Genealogist Bridie Greevy’s best guess on a Kilmurray Cemetery grave that might hold a relative of mine lay in the fact that one Loftus grave (http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=b16fre2.jpg&.src=ph) contains 20th century Loftuses obviously buried on top of 19th century Loftuses, with an old and a new section of the headstone. You can’t see it in my photo, unfortunately, but as I captioned the photo, the word “CREEVY,” where Patrick lived, is carved into the stone below the word “LOFTUS.”
Una treated me to one of her large lunches and then P.C. and I headed for Owenboy, the Crossmolina townland lived in by Judges since at least 1820, until Tommy Judge and his family left there in the 1950’s.
Anthony’s father was John. According to Tony Donohoe’s book, “a John Judge appears on a 1796 list of those paying "Premiums for Sowing Flax" but there is no way to know if he was Anthony’s father. According to the Tithe Applotments for the Diocese of Killala, Parish of Crossmolina, in the 1820's, a John Judge leased three acres and two roods of arable land, two acres and two roods of reclaimed land, eight acres of bottom and 100 acres of mountain. Tony Donohoe refers to several Judge families. It is a good assumption that my ancestors include those described by Donohoe on page 344-345: "The Judges were a wealthy family who lived in Owenboy…It is fairly certain that the Judge family were established there for a long time. In 1834, it was evenly divided between John Judge and Co. and Thomas Judge and Co. with 114 acres each”
In 1839, Crossmolina had 11,479 inhabitants, of whom only about 2,000 lived in town. According to Don McLane, a New York genealogist, "...The parish of Crossmolina was 67,201 acres in size...a pretty large parish." Owenboy’s 1,239 acres is only about 2 square miles. In 1841, there were 94 people in 20 houses in Owenboy, but by 1851, the famine had taken its toll, with only 33 people left.
John Judge is also listed in the 1850 Griffiths valuation of tenements but I do not know if this is the same John as listed in the 1820's, or his son, or even some other relation.
I also do not know if my Judge ancestors included those described in "Crossmolina Parish, An Historical Survey," on page 34, in a reference to Kilmurry House, coincidentally, the B&B where I stayed: "...the present house was built by a firm of contractors from Dublin...the cut limestone for the building was quarried in Judge's land of Ballyvicmaha," or if one of them could have been, "Judge...who had only one arm but we are told he was wealthy and had two horses." The Ballyvicmaha Judges (Page 279) had a "cow-house that was the cause of contention between two brothers. Mervyn Pratt had to come to back to Ballickmaha to settle the dispute”...
So, although the Ballyvicmaha Judges seem more interesting, I can only account for my Owenboy Judges. But I do not know if any of my ancestors were among those described by Donohoe on Page 371:
"The Judges survived the Famine better than others...as they were there in good numbers in Griffith's Valuation of 1850. One family was involved in weaving but that day is long gone-by and the house is now empty. They were known as "Weaver Judges." This was no surprise or no disrespect either, as there were so many families they had different aliases...
My John Judge and Ellen Dunbar had at least three children:
1. Ellen Judge, born about 1814. She may have married John Heffernan (perhaps as in Heffernan family listed below) but she definitely married Thomas Boylan. They had children in Crossmolina, but I saw no Boylan headstones in Kilmurray Cemetery.
2. John Judge, who, according to his brother Anthony's 1903 obituary, was living in West Virginia.
3. Anthony Judge, my great-great grandfather, who claimed to be born on June 24, 1832 in Crossmolina and who married Barbara Loftus of and in Crossmolina.
Donohoe wrote of Owenboy on Page 346 that:
"In 1850 it was still in a type of Rundale system. It was still in two divisions, one of 1038 acres and the other of 200 acres, four holdings on the larger portion and five holdings on the smaller division. The occupiers, or the "immediate lessors" of the Earl of Arran were:
TENANT HOLDING VALUATION
Michael Gallaher Land and herds 1:15:0
Anthony Judge Land and House 9:10:0
Daniel Judge Land and House and Office 9:10:0
Thomas Judge Land and House 9:10:0
John Heffernan Land and House 9:10:0
Mary Careen (Caden) Land and Office 1:15:0
John Careen Land and House 3:0:0
John Judge Land and House 4:10:0
Hugh Scanlan Land and House 1:15:0
The records from this time show many other Judges. The Ballyvicmaha Judges appear again on Page 319 of Donohoe's book, but I have no way of knowing whether the Daniel living next to my Anthony was a different one than the Daniel Judge who "was a man of honor and highly respected in his day." But there is a relationship, because on Page 335, Donohoe wrote, "Willie Judge of Ballickmaha...same family as the people in Owenboy”…
According to Don McLane, "during that time period people were shifted around as the land became overpopulated. I copied some records dated before 1845 and on that townland, several families by the name of Judge lived. It is possible that the area became overpopulated." According to McLane, another Anthony Judge..."may have had to settle on land that was very poor, cheap and had space...this was quite common... the land around Ballyvicmaha… is quite fertile and of much better quality. When you get out to Owenboy it really is land of poor quality and it would be hard to make a living..."
P.C. Judge is the son of Tommy Judge, described by Donohoe on Page 361 as "came from Owenboy…connected with the Judges of Ballickmaha."
Other Judges are found in other parts of Crossmolina, for instance in Derryhillagh, as described by Donohoe on Page 369-371, but I have not found the relation, if any.
According to the Griffiths Valuation of Tenements for the Parish of Crossmolina, in the 1850's, Anthony Judge was the "occupier," and the Earl of Arran was the "immediate Lessor" for "land and house." Tony Donohoe wrote to me, "Of the Judges of Owenboy/ Owenbee, Anthony, Dan, and Thomas had equally divided holdings, part of the original large holding of the previous occupier who was probably their father. Concerning the office (the word used then for a barn, I have been told) attached to Daniel's holding, perhaps he was the eldest son! How to explain the state of John Judge, in a different part of the townland, with a holding half that of those of his cousins and a tiny shack valued at five shillings is another matter. You must remember that the Great Famine intervened between 1834 and 1850, so perhaps they suffered the effects during that period...the land was in Rundale therefore according to the Establishment the land was held as a commonage but the occupiers had their own divisions known only to themselves..."
I had put all the information above together at home, and now here, on August 9, 2006, I was standing in Owenboy with P.C. Judge. Our relationship had started with this email from his daughter Caroline about three years ago:
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Hi Robert,
My name is Caroline Judge, a relation of mine sent on your web page. My grandfather was Thomas (Tommy) Judge from Owenboy (Owenbui in Irish) and my father was also born there. My father P.C (Patrick Christopher) Judge is currently writing you a letter with more details about what we know of our family background. Before he died my grandfather Tommy had begun to look into the family history. A person who was a great help to him was Tony Donoghue who is somewhat of a local expert on Crossmolina Family histories…
Take care,
Caroline”
I forwarded the email to my brother Tony, who had gone to Crossmolina the previous year, but had not found anyone who knew about Owenboy. Caroline followed up with him:
Thursday, August 14, 2003
Hi Tony,
Robert mentioned that you were in Crossmolina and did not have much luck. As you would have seen, Crossmolina is a very small town and generally everyone knows everyone else. But there are a few possible reasons why you did not receive many possible leads.
Firstly, Owenboy (Owenbui) is about 8 miles outside of Crossmolina - you would be right to say it is a locale forgotten by many, as to the best of my knowledge most, if not all of the families who resided there have moved (it is quite remote). My father will be able to fill you in on who owns the land where the old family house once stood. Actually, last Christmas I asked my father why the Judges didn't hold on to the land in Owenboy…In the (nineteen) fifties, my grandfather Tommy moved the family to Lanesboro in Longford for work. He left the family home in Owenboy and I think he let the land to his neighbours and good friends the Heffernan family. Then another family in the area applied to the government for the land saying it was abandoned. My granddad fought this in the courts but the land was divided out between two neighbours (not the Heffernans)…the law which allowed for this to happen, it was basically an old law dealing with the fallout of the end of English rule which gave farmers their own land usually taken from landlords in England. Needless to say, it was a very painful court decision for my grandfather as he had lost the family land…I'm sure there are court records…
Secondly, when the Judge family moved back to Mayo they moved to Killocraun (Cuilagurrain). This is where my grandmother was born. Her family name was Loftus - her name was Katie. My grandparents had eloped…I think it was after her father had died they returned.
Lastly, there are a good few Judges around Crossmolina, (but) as far as I know I don't think we're closely related to any of them… My dad is the only member of the Owenboy Judge family still in the area…
All the best,
Caroline”
And so, when my brother returned to Ireland in 2004, this time he met up with P.C., who took him to Owenboy, and my brother later gave me this description:
“I was taken to the old Judge house in Crossmolina by P.C. Judge last Saturday, Jan. 17. The house, last occupied by the Thomas Judge family in 1953, is about 4 or 5 miles southwest of the town of Owenboy. The mostly tumbled-down two-room structure and land are now owned by others who acquired the property after the last Judges departed, for economic reasons in the 1950's - a loss P .C. regrets… The house, on a hill above the Owenboy River and under the mountain Nephin, is approached on narrow gravel road through farmer's fields. To get up to the house we crossed the river (called Owenwee by P.C.) on a concrete footbridge. On our return, we walked across the knee-deep river along a line of slippery stepping stones that P.C. said were the only bridge employed for hundreds of years previously http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=668cre2.jpg&.src=ph.
The old pastures around the house where the Judges kept cows have mostly turned to brush http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=4d31re2.jpg&.src=ph,
the house's old thatch and slate roof has fallen in, and trees are growing up and caving in the stonewalls. I crawled through a window opening into a room in which P.C. had been born, and that Anthony Judge may have born in too.”
As P.C. and I drove down the one lane road toward Owenboy, I wondered how my brother’s description would compare with what I saw. We stopped to greet “Packie” (Patrick) Hefferan, P.C. godfather, who was working outside, and who remembered meeting my brother.
And then we were there, looking at the stream, then climbing the low hill to the house, then looking out at the pastures that were as green and quiet as any I’d ever seen http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=65a1re2.jpg&.src=ph.
The next day, Bridie would give me this old description of Owenboy:
“Abhainn Bhuidhe, yellow river…bounded by…Carrowkilleen…property of Lord Arran. It is let to a few farmers by leases of 3 lives at 28 pounds yearly for the whole townland, which is mountain. The inhabitants live in the south of the townland, in 2 groups of houses, called Owenboy and Coolturbeg. The Deel River bounds this townland on the South, a little north of which is a mill.”
Hearing P.C. describe what happened to his father’s land, I realized that Caroline had listened to him well. P.C. elaborated that if his father had stayed in Owenboy a while longer, he could have been working for the same company that he worked for after relocating the family to Lanesboro. And, he expressed remorse at the fact that the family that applied to the government to take his father’s land had at one time been friendly, and had known that Tommy Judge wanted to return to his ancestral land in Owenboy.
We inspected the house, P.C. carefully noting more loosening of the stones. We walked through the pasture and to the stream, as P.C. talked about his parents, his brothers and the tricks they played on each other, a stonewall he used to jump off, the neighbors, and the crops and farm animals he remembered. P.C. seems to know every tree in Owenboy, where he apparently had an idyllic youth, despite walking to school three miles each day, and not coming home to electricity until 1962 http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=db0cre2.jpg&.src=ph. But, he knew early that he was living on land that had been occupied by Judges since at least 1820. Although the census reported that there were twenty structures in Owenboy in 1841, there is only a couple now. To climb through the window of the crumbling stone house which was occupied by 19th century and maybe even earlier Judges http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=6967re2.jpg&.src=ph, provoked much thought for me in my comfortable B&B bed that night. I had taken a small stone from the wall, not a big one, as I did not want to contribute to its inevitable disappearance any more than I had to. My brother’s description had been accurate.
P.C. had left a phone message with Paddy Joe Loftus, that I was interested in my Loftus ancestors. Paddy Joe phoned back and told me that Tommy Loftus had told him that the Loftuses had been in Owenboy before they went to Carrowkilleen or Creevy.
On Wednesday night, P.C., Una, and I visited Vincent and Ann Cleary. Ann is the daughter of Mary (Naughton) Boland, who was the aunt of Ann Hanlon, who had given me the photos to take to Crossmolina. I enjoyed showing photos to Ann Cleary of her own mother, taken by a relative in the U.S. about whom she had not known. Coincidentally, Ann Cleary is also the granddaughter of Catherine (Judge) Naughton, and she married Vincent Cleary, who is a first cousin of P.C. Judge, whose mother’s maiden name was Loftus. It seems that if most of the Crossmolina Judges are not all related by blood, they are related by marriage, and if not, they are related by one or the other to the Crossmolina Loftuses.
P.C. and Una don’t drink, but Vincent asked me if I would. I said “sure” and he asked me about my taste in whiskey, which I can hardly force down. I asked if he had beer. He said “No,” so I said, “any whiskey will do.” He returned with a glass of whiskey and a Budweiser he said he did not know he had, the latter of which saved me from having to drink the former.
Thursday, August 10
After another one of Madge’s breakfasts (she had learned my preferences by now), this time with a nice young Italian couple, P.C., Una, and I returned to the Mayo Heritage Centre, an impressive place (http://www.enniscoe.com/heritage.html), to meet with Bridie.
Paul Broderick, Marie O’Neill, and I have all been working in Massachusetts on our Crossmolina Loftus ancestors. Bridie now showed me that our great-great-great grandfather, Patrick Loftus, “Creevy, a WR (widower) and Farmer, died on the 20-Apr-1873 aged 70. He had suffered from pain in the chest, one week uncertified, no medical attendant and had not been attended by a doctor. The informant to the registrar of his death was Catherine Walsh”, who Paul, Marie, and I know was Patrick’s daughter.
Bridie told us about a couple of Loftus graves in Kilmurry that I had missed the previous day, and P.C., Una, and I went back to check them. After another one of Una’s overflowing lunches, we drove to the Country Life Museum of the national Museum of Ireland http://www.museum.ie/countrylife/, in Turlough Park in Castlebar, where P.C. had never been. We got there late and it closed before we had seen it all, so back next time. But on the way back to Crossmolina, we noticed the Michael Davitt museum http://www.museumsofmayo.com/davitt.htm in Straide, Foxford, which neither P.C. nor Una had visited. This agrarian land reformer would have sided with our Judges against Lord Arran, if it had been necessary. P.C. and Una had both told me of their dissatisfaction with the current ruling Fianna Fáil party. As we pulled out of the museum parking lot, I noticed a museum dedication marker and I kidded P.C that “Your friend Bertie Ahearn dedicated this museum.” P.C. made me laugh when he responded deadpan, “Bertie Ahern would attend the opening of an envelope.”
We detoured into Ballina on the way back for another fine dinner in Ballina, where P.C. and Una again avoided my pitiful attempts to pay for something. Afterwards, we drove around Killocraun and Creevy, seeing the primary school that they attended. P.C. had told me the government subsidizes agriculture, which it must, given how much active farming there is there. A gas line is being put in that puts a mark on a landscape otherwise seemingly unchanged for hundreds of years. As twilight approached (not until around 9:30 p.m. in Mayo in early August), P.C. pointed out subtle changes. This fellow has done some work on his bog... His brother has not been seen around for a while…The woman who lived there until last year was married to the brother who has not been seen for a while…I had read a story in the newspaper that day about Ireland’s annual census, and it showed a slight increase in Mayo’s population. I just hope no one finds Owenboy, so it will there again for me the next time, the same way.
I parted company with my new good friends reluctantly and left for my last night at Kilmurray House.
Friday, August 11
I headed south using the same route I had come north on. I made it to Ennis, between Gort and Shannon, before stopping. As I looked puzzled at the parking meter, a woman asked if I needed help. I said I was looking for a B&B for the night, that I needed to be at Shannon by 10 am. She said her boss in their florist shop new Ennis well, and we walked there. Her boss gave me some tips, probed as to where I was from, and then proudly told me that her cousin lived in S. Hadley. I gave them both my address and invited them to look me up if they come here. Before leaving Ennis, I bought the Irish Ordnance Survey Map #23 at O’Mahony’s Booksellers, where I wish I had more time. The map now stares at me from my study wall, roughly covering the area between Crossmolina, Ballycastle, Nephin, and Bangor, and contains my scrawled notes of their significance near the beautiful names of all of those townlands:
http://us.f13.yahoofs.com/bc/4451a6c7m6a3da12e/bc/Mail+Attachments/Townlands.pdf?bfVNc6EBmU1er.JQ,
I continued southeast on the N18 but did not see an appealing B&B until Newmarket on Fergus. All three I tried there were full, perhaps with other travelers also with morning flights. I was advised to try Bunratty, which I did, and I found one. I could tell I had left Mayo for something now apparently almost suburban to Limerick. I skipped going into Bunratty Castle http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/robertgjudge/detail?.dir=9a7are2&.dnm=e273re2.jpg&.src=ph,
in favor of shopping for my wife, who has had to suffer marriage to an amateur genealogist (although her patience once slipped when she said, “If you don’t take out the trash in the next hour, you are going to be one of those dead Judges.”) The shops around the castle were full of those American accents that I had not heard in days, but that I would soon only hear.
Having left my friends behind, I watched television that night for the first time in Ireland, flipping between news about the airplane terrorist plot (bombs on planes from the U.K to the U.S.) that had been foiled the day before, and a John Wayne movie.
Saturday, August 12
On Saturday morning, I arrived at Shannon in time, with my rental car gas tank empty, as I had been instructed to do by AutoEurope. After that week’s terrorism alert, my bag was ransacked and my bottle of water confiscated. The flight home was uneventful, until the something-sniffing dog at Logan smelled the banana I had taken from the B&B that morning. He reported me to his boss and she made me give it up.
A lost water bottle and banana was a small price to pay. I had a great visit and I am luckier than most people are. Thanks to P.C., Una, Caroline, Tony Donohoe, Bridie, my brother, and others, I got a lot in Crossmolina.
P.C.’s and my Judge ancestors lived in Owenboy until they felt that they had to leave it. Now, I can fly there about anytime I want, and P.C. can afford to pick up the tab all week even for someone who has invited himself to visit him. But those abandoned houses still nag at me. Ellen and Ann Loftus left near the peak of the famine, sometime between 1848 and 1852. We assume that we know why those famine emigrants left. But why did others, like Anthony Judge and his wife Barbara Loftus, their sister, wait until 1861, well after the famine? What did all of those people feel as they left? Fear? Hope? Both, and more? When they got to Massachusetts, did they miss Crossmolina? Did they really all do better than they would have there? Did any of them ever yearn to go back? Why do Paul, Marie, and I want to find Martin Loftus? Are Anne Hanlon and I distant cousins? Does it change our relationship if we are?
P.C., Paul, Marie, Anne, and I can now use the internet to try to piece together our genealogy. But standing there together on the land of our forebears, I think P.C. and I both briefly wished we could spend a day in the nineteenth century. It was a time where families were not separated by an ocean and where, on an August day like the one I had, I figure that we would have mainly heard the same bleating of sheep or the trickle of the stream through Owenboy. But we would have also been the voices of our ancestors, and I wonder what we would have heard.
