Meeting John L. O’ Sullivan: Fate or Luck of the Irish?

The best part of researching my great-great grandfather’s past was taking my whole family on a trip to Ireland. We hopped on Air Lingus as soon as our children were dismissed for summer vacation. Although it was the end of June when we touched down in Ireland, the temperature was in the 50’s, and, of course, it was raining. However, it didn’t deter us from driving along the western coast; stopping to take photos of the rolling green hills, endless pastures filled with cows, and the beautiful foggy views of the ocean.

We drove to an adorable town called Dingle and rested for the night before heading to County Cork, where my father said his family originated. County Cork is a massive area in southern Ireland containing dozens of towns and villages. Although I did not know exactly which town my great-grandfather lived in, I knew I wanted to find a rural town outside of Cork City and in close proximity to Cobh, a huge port.

We entered a village called Ballinhassig, and I noticed its town center only contained two pubs, a church and a Newsagent. It was adorable! I immediately asked my husband to pullover and we went in to the Newsagent to buy a map. While at the counter I noticed some CD’s stacked up near the register that were entitled “Ballinhassig Parish, Where the River Owenabue Flows Through.” I bought one and the shop owner said I just missed the local historian who produced that CD. He was in to buy coffee but now he’s on his way to Cork University to give a presentation. Darn it! But, the shop owner also said that the historian mentioned he would be back later in the afternoon to pick up the newspaper. He said it was worth a shot to come back and perhaps bump into him. I left hopeful but thinking our chances were probably slim that we’d actually connect.

My family packed back into our rental car and we drove around the village with the map. It was as rural a village as I’ve seen, with much more land and pastures than houses. Many of the roads were still dirt, and most had grassy strips growing in the center. They were extremely narrow, allowing one car at a time to pass. We took some photos from high up over the hills, and, it seemed the farms and rock walls went on forever; it was breathtaking. I was delighted with this village, closing my eyes and imagining horses and carts on these dirt roads, farmers tending to their potato crops and livestock crops, and folks gathering at the stone church on Sundays. Ballinhassig felt like the right village to begin my story.

After making our way through the labyrinth of narrow roads and dead ends, we finally found our way back to the main road and decided to head south to Kinsale for lunch and shopping. We enjoyed the day and even saw the sun from time to time.

In the late afternoon, we headed back to Ballinhassig hoping and praying that we’d meet up with the historian. However, when we arrived, the Newsagent said he hadn’t turned up yet, but we could wait at a pub and play darts for a bit, and he’d come over to get me if he stops in.

It wasn’t long before the Newsagent came rushing back into the pub to inform us that John L. O’Sullivan was here and waiting for me in his car. In his car? We all walked across the street to the parking lot and, indeed, he was in the smallest Renault I have ever seen. I greeted John and invited him into the pub for a drink, but he said he was in a hurry and that his knees were bothering him. He invited me to come sit in his car where he kept his paperwork. So what did I do? I hopped right in while my family stood waiting in the parking lot. My husband told me later that he took a picture of John’s license plate just in case he ran off with me!

John turned out to be the sweetest, wisest man I could have met. He’d been a historian all his life and was proud to tell me of his accomplishments and especially of a plaque that he’d erected in honor of a Massacre long ago in Ballinhassig. He listened intently as I told him about my great-great grandfather and my book idea. We discussed the potato famine and he offered rich details of how the blight affected this village and it’s population and agriculture. John painted a vivid portrayal of Ballinhassig in 1848, making me truly appreciate and understand why the potato was so central to their existence.

John turned out to be even more of help with my book than I ever imagined. Throughout the writing process, I sent him drafts (in the mail, he doesn’t have a computer or email account), so he could read it and comment on its historical accuracy pertaining to the famine and especially concerning Ballinhassig. In turn, he sent my manuscript back filled with handwritten notes. He has read the final version and seems pleased with the portrayal of his beloved village. I hope I can return to Ireland one day soon and thank him in person for all he’s done for me. So, I just have to wonder, was this fate or was it Irish luck?

Letter from John: 

(Well) anyone reading this novel will wonder where is this place called Ballinhassig. Situated on the bank of the Owenabue River, the village is almost central to Cork, Bandon and Kinsale in Southern Ireland.

It was here that I met Ellen Alden for the very first time, and I was very impressed with her enthusiasm, as she outlined her proposal about writing her first novel, which included Ballinhassig, and the effects of the famine on its people.

Indeed, Ballinhassig suffered greatly as a result of the famine, and many people emigrated to England, Scotland, and America.  In 1846, 2000 people prayed on their knees on the road outside the Mountain Chapel, in the Northern end of the parish. They were appealing to God, to the government, and to the landlords for help. Sadly, help never came and many starved to death, shortly afterwards.

Well Ellen, they say there’s a book in everyone, and may this be the first of many. It’s a fascinating story of hunger, suffering, emigration, death, lost love, war, peace, and above all survival. There is even a special surprise towards the end, but you will have to buy the book the find the answer!

Congratulations on a noble effort and good luck to all its readers from your local historian in Ballinhassig.

John L. O’Sullivan