Day 3:The Rainy West of County Galway

A quick look out of our window at Lisara House revealed that it would be an extremely wet day. We showered and enjoyed a full Irish breakfast and a long chat with our warm, friendly host Geraldine Coyne (whom we had determined the night before to have not been related to our “Coyne” side). Then we optimistically headed to Michael King’s house around 10 a.m. Michael met us at the door and seemed as disappointed as we were in the weather. He went around the back of his house for the dual purpose of letting his two mongrel shepherds out of their sleeping hut and checking to see if it was clear enough to see across the bay. It was too overcast to see Michael King (the elder’s) old house in Letterard, and too wet to navigate the cemetery, so we agreed to try again either that evening or the next day. I asked Michael about the other King household on the island, to which he quickly said, “No, those are different Kings, you’re not related to them.” Although I was disappointed in the answer, I was completely sure of his correctness. We shook hands with our warm, knowledgeable link to Innishnee’s past and headed out for a day of rainy driving in Clifden, Carna and Letterard.

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We drove west on R341 back through Roundstone and then headed northwest up the coast to Clifden: a larger town of a couple thousand that appeared to be heavily geared toward tourism. Clifden was one of the towns that Festus King (Honor’s brother) mentioned to his children and relatives years later in the United States, although the extent of his connection with Clifden remains unknown. On the way to Clifden, we stopped at a monument dedicated to John Alcock and Arthur Whitten Brown; it was here in the Connemara bog that the two men crashed in 1919, becoming the first people to fly across the Atlantic Ocean (years before Charles Lindberg became the first solo pilot to accomplish the feat).

As we turned through Clifden the rained picked up. We filled up on diesel and then went back east through the beautiful Connemara region – a remarkably pristine landscape almost completely without human impact beyond a line of phone poles and the narrow highway scarring the landscape.
We then went southeast on R340 toward Carna – the parish town where my great-grandmother, Honor, and her siblings were baptized after being born in Letterard. Carna was quiet and nearly motionless.

We stepped into the Catholic Church – a building clearly constructed long after my relatives had emigrated. On our previous trip, we stopped here as well, but this time we paused to read the graves out in front of the church: “Pray for the soul of the very Rev. McCannon McHugh who died Dec. 1st 1924 aged 67 years” and “Sweet Jesus have mercy on the soul of the Rev. Thomas J. Flannery, P.P. Carna, died Dec. 28th 1891 aged 38 years, R.I.P.” These were the priests who baptized my ancestors.


We pressed on toward Letterard, winding our way through the narrow, rock-wall-lined roads of this Martian landscape. We had been here back in March as well, but were unsure of the actual location of Letterard, nor of any actual connection to the land such as that which Michael had given us the day before. As we paced along, I abruptly noticed a rock, barely cognizable against the backdrop of identical rocks that was inscribed: “Leitirard.” This rocky landscape of just a few square kilometers was the land of my ancestor’s birth and childhood, before they decided to leave their homeland and parents forever and endeavor on a two-week transatlantic journey to America.

On our way back to Roundstone, we came to a fork in the road with a sign that read “Clifden 13 km” and pointed down a narrow strip of crushed-rock road. This was the “bog road,” as highlighted in detail in Tim Robinson’s book. 150-years ago, this road served as a treacherous shortcut from Clifden to Roundstone, taken only by the bold or the stupid. According to legend, it was inhabited by none, save a single household known as the “Halfway House” that stood in the middle of the dreary, morose bog and hailed in nocturnal passersby with promises of warm food and a restful fire, only to murder them and steal their personal belongings. Having read Tim Robinson’s account of this nothingland’s deadly past, we, of course, had to take it.

The Bog Road was desolate and barren. It was barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other, which happened only three times in 13 kilometers. About halfway to Clifden stood the unmarked stone ruins of a household – was this the Halfway House where countless nighttime travelers had unsuspectingly met their maker?

We circled back toward Roundstone and parked the car at Lisara House to walk to the downtown. The winners of the Roundstone Pony Show (held earlier that day in the rain) were scheduled to walk through the downtown at 5 pm, so we thought we’d go enjoy a pint at King’s Bar and see the ponies.

I ordered a pint of Smithwick’s from Mary Ward and told her what Michael had said about the other King household on the island, to which she summarily agreed: “If Mikel says it, it be true!” We enjoyed our pints and were surprised to see a long parade of large, full-sized horses trot down the street, adorned with ribbons of various celebration and status. Apparently in Ireland “pony” means what “horse” does in America. The Connemara Pony is an historic and famous breed that is generally white or gray.
We grabbed dinner at the Vaughan's Pub in the Roundstone House Hotel and then called it a night and walked back to Lisara House.

Day 2: Returning to Innishnee

Our first morning in Ireland began with a traditional Irish breakfast, prepared by Ann: cereal, a fried egg, sausage links, bacon, toast, a tomato, orange juice, coffee and black & white pudding. As we were finishing up, Noel, having worked late the night before, came in for a quick “hello” & “goodbye.” We were sad to have to leave such a lovely home so quickly, but excited to move onto the great genealogical unknown that awaited us.

To drive from Enniskerry to Roundstone (in the far west of County Galway) you first have to head back north to the outskirts of Dublin in order to pick up the N6 highway toward Galway. Driving from the Dublin area past Galway into Roundstone is like driving down an ice cream cone: the roads get narrower, messier and more full of holes the further you get. After driving past Galway, the road becomes narrow, curvy and treacherous.

As we rounded one of the final bends of R341 heading toward Roundstone, a small brown sign appeared on the left side of the road, pointing southward: “Innishnee.” It had been six short months since we were last on the island – a trip of enormous discovery, which has been subsequently accentuated with intermittent bits of knowledge, piecing together our ancestral story. We could not resist the urge to turn left and head down to Innishnee for a quick trip around the island before checking into our lodging at Lisara House in Roundstone.

Innishnee was exactly as we had left it: hard, unforgiving and ravaged by years of windswept waves cutting into the landscape like razorblades, stained by the constant changing of the tide, and disfigured by the evolutionary violence of the salty sea gusts. Even the trees on this island grow in one direction because of the constant wind.

Carefully navigating the narrow road up and down the island’s hills and slowly rounding bends for fear of an unlikely oncoming car (the only solution to which would be one of the cars having to reverse to the nearest driveway or knoll on the side of the road), we finally came to the fork in the road at the north end of the second of the island’s three main portions. Taking this fork to the left leads to the ruined cemetery and Church of St. Matthias – the sight where my great-great-grandparents Peter King and Mary Ward were married in 1868 – the home of John Barrett (our friend from the March trip), and the home of Michael King (a possible long-lost relative).

As we came upon Michael King’s house, we looked to our right to his front doorstep, upon which stood an exceptionally tall man of about 65 in a green woven sweater and brown wool hat. After we drove by in our rented SUV – a giveaway of our status as strangers to Innishnee – and were greeted by a wave, we immediately pulled over and walked up. As I walked up the path to his front door, I said “Are you Michael King?” to which he replied, with his hand outstretched and bent downward to meet mine: “I am. You must be the O’Briens I take it?” Clearly he had received the note my dad sent him a couple of weeks prior to our visit. My dad offered: “I think we might be related,” to which Michael (pronounced “Mee-kel”) quickly replied: “I don’t think so on the King side, I’m sorry to say, but perhaps way back on the Ward side. I do have quite a bit of information for you though. Come in, come in.”

We sat in Michael’s living room – a lovely room with wooden trim, books, framed maps, and pictures of his now-adult children (all now living off the island and working in larger cities) – and heard about his life on the island. He was born on the island - in a house just south of the one he lives in now – 72 years ago. He told us that he has childhood memories of the elder Michael King (Honor King’s brother and my great-great-uncle). After Peter King and Mary Ward were married on Innishnee, they moved across the bay (about 1 mile) to Letterard (an equally unforgiving landscape on the shores of the mainland). It was in Letterard that my great-grandmother Honor and all of her brothers and sisters were born. They were baptized in Carna, the largest town nearby on the mainland.

Michael King (the elder) was a fisherman and lived with his mother as the head of the household after his father’s death in 1895. Michael told us that Michael King (the elder) never had children and married late in life, initially living in a house on the shore of Letterard that is visible from Innishnee on a clear day, and then later moving back to Innishnee with his wife, before dying in the nursing home in Roundstone in 1951. Michael told us that Michael King (the elder) is buried alongside his wife in the graveyard at the church on Innishnee and that Peter King and Mary Ward (his parents) are likely buried in the same grave or nearby. Furthermore, Michael told us that he knows precisely where the grave is because his own uncle is immediately adjacent. He remembered seeing Michael King (the elder) on the island as a child because his parents would look after people’s boats after they rowed to the island from Letterard in order to walk into Roundstone for supplies. He also remembered Michael King’s funeral – which he thought was in 1951 because he remembered it being after a major storm had washed out the roads, forcing the body to be brought over in a boat (and he knew that the roads were repaired in 1952).

The day was overcast and rainy, making it impossible to see the house in Letterard or easily navigate the cemetery. We also wanted to make it into town in time to stop by Tim Robinson’s store in Roundstone – so we agreed to come by in the morning and meet up with Michael. Before heading back, however, we decided to go up toward the cemetery and also take the fork in the road that led by U.S. Senator Chris Dodd’s vacation home (known locally as the “Senator of Innishnee”).

We made our way back through Innishnee and into Roundstone – failing to notice any store called “Folding Landscapes” (Tim Robinson’s store), so we found our B&B and dropped our stuff off and asked Geraldine Coyne, the proprietor of Lisara House, if she knew Tim’s phone number. She didn’t – but she called Richard de Stacpoole (another person we had learned about before coming to Roundstone via the Roundstone community website). We got Tim’s number and called him up – he was happy to have us come down.

We made our way back into “downtown” Roundstone – about a one-minute drive around the bend in the road and down to the pier. Tim’s house and office store were located through a gate in the last house on the pier. After knocking on the door, we were soon shaking hands with the author of Connemara: Listening to the Wind, the extremely detailed, and pricelessly painstaking account of the Connemara region that we had been reading in advance of the trip (a very surreal feeling). He was a kind man and was happy to sell us a few of his famous maps of Connemara and the Burren (he’s the only man in the world to have personally mapped out the regions in such detail) as well as a signed copy of his book – a gift for our upcoming visit with Brian Rabbitt.

We walked back up the pier and around the corner to a used bookshop. A nice young girl inside, after being informed of our reasons for touring the area, suggested that we go across the street for a pint at “King’s Bar” – a pub named not for royalty, but after the owner: Mary King. It took some hard thought and convincing, but we were soon enjoying a pint of Smithwick’s in King’s Pub and talking with Mary King, who told us that she’s not related (her husband was from Cashel) but she knew of another King family that lives on Innishnee: an old brother and sister in their 80’s whom she thought were the children of a Colman King. My ears and hopes perked up at the statement: Honor King (my great-grandmother) had a younger brother Colman. My excitement, however, was quickly dispelled by my lawyerly criticism: if that’s true, then why didn’t Michael King – an Innishnee resident of 72-years - say anything about them? Mary did not know which house they lived in, but she said they painted it recently and it was on the west side of the road in the second part of the island. We had a lead…

We enjoyed cod & chips dinner at O’Dowd’s before heading back to Lisara House. On the way home, however, we thought we’d stop by the Catholic Church and talk with the Parish Priest to see if he had any records of the area (a suggestion made by several people). Father McCarthy was a very sweet, older gentleman and he graciously showed us the printed list of the Roundstone Parish’s records, an index for the delicate, fragile hard copies that date all the way back to 1872. Unfortunately, the Kings/Wards moved to Letterard after being married on Innishnee sometime after 1868, and Letterard is in the Carna parish, not the Roundstone parish (the Carna parish having lost many of its records in a fire decades ago). Nonetheless, we thumbed through the first volume of the written records: ancient, weathered parchment, decorated with the patient Latin and English inscriptions of steady hands, accounting for marriages and baptisms. There were several King families on Innishnee at that time (the island itself had a population some fifteen times greater then than it does now), none of which were directly traceable to our ancestors.

Although we had not found any hard evidence, the search through the ancient book was exciting. We thanked Father McCarthy and exchanged pleasantries on our way out of the rectory – when I suddenly noticed a map of Parish on his office wall. An idea struck me: “Do you know of a second King house on Innishnee other than Michael’s?” “I do,” said Father McCarthy, “There's another Michael King. Michael and Nora – a brother and sister.” “Do you know where they live?” I followed up. “Well, let’s see,” he said, turning toward the map on his wall, “here.” He pointed to a dot on the west side of the road, right next to the road and directly south of the entrance to the new pier. “Fantastic,” I thanked him, “we’re going to talk with them tomorrow to see if they can help us.” Mary’s story rang true and our lead seemed more promising.

Day 1: From Dublin to Enniskerry

We landed in Dublin around 8:15 am on Friday, September 12. The flight was a relatively smooth 7 hours, despite not having the luxury of business class, like we did on our previous trip. After a long line for customs, we got our bags without problem and quickly grabbed our rental car (a Tucson SUV).

We headed into Dublin with a rough plan of going to a museum or two. After curving around a series of tight one-way streets, criss-crossing bridges over the River Liffey, and avoiding a plethora of pedestrians frequenting the weekend shops, we settled upon a public parking lot and headed to the square of the national museums. We settled upon the National Museum of History and Archaeology - which was an impressive display of artifacts from the Irish landscape, telling the tale of Ireland's Neolithic, Celtic, Viking, and Roman past. Perhaps most impressive and intriguing were the bog mummies - four remains of men from 400-200 B.C. that were remarkably well-preserved by the peat bogs that they met their maker in, millennia ago.

After the museum, we heading to The Duke, a local pub for lunch (although the Irish dialect pronounces a "D" as a "J" and we initially thought we were looking for a bar called "The Juke"). The pub lunch was great - and on the way we stopped by a government publications office where we found a list of West Galway's archaeological sites (hoping to use it later on our expedition).

After lunch, we walked around Dublin for a little bit, but were dissuaded from going to the Museum of Natural History because it was closed to public, following the collapse of a staircase (apparently it is housed in a very old building). We headed back to the car, stopping by a street magician for a bit, and then went to the Guinness Factory.

The Guinness Factory tour was impressive - a well-done, tourist-friendly display of the begging to the end process of brewing Guinness. After a quick sample in the "tasting lab" we finished the tour and went to the top of the building (the 8th floor, which is among the tallest buildings in all of Dublin). At the very top is the "Gravity Bar," a bar in the middle of a 360-degree, floor-to-ceiling glass wall, overlooking the entirety of the city. After enjoying a pint, we decided to head to Enniskerry to Craigie Cottage - the home of Noel and Ann Barry.

After a short drive through Dublin, out to the M5 and the M11 highways, we eventually found our way to Ballyman Road, north of Brey, and navigated to Ann & Noel’s lovely home. Noel was on the late shift of the bus route he drives, so we wouldn’t see him until the morning; however, Ann’s son Cheiron, his three children and his fiancé all came over for dinner: authentic Irish beef and potato stew. We enjoyed a delicious dinner and a long night of conversation. Ann was sure to emphasize the natural beauty and strengths of the Scottish people whenever possible. It was a terrific evening, followed by a long night of sleep (due to the time change, we had only slept 1-2 hours in the last 34 hours!).

St. Dominic's Church - 357 W. Locust, Chicago

According to the records we've obtained, Thomas Coyne and Nora ("Honor") King (my paternal grandmother's parents) were married at St. Dominic's Church at 357 W. Locust on the North Side of Chicago in 1912. St. Dominic's was built in 1904 but closed in 1990. I drove by it this morning and found it in a dilapidated condition - all boarded up and vacant without a trace of its history of a thriving parish of the Italian-Irish working community of the early 20th century. All of the stained glass windows have been removed and vines and rogue trees have taken over the outside, yet the building remains an ominous presence in the otherwise vacant landscape: it's dark brick facade and parallel bell towers stand as the sole remnants of the neighborhood that Thomas Coyne and Nora King once inhabited.

An online search turned up a 1916 "souvenir" book of the Archdiocese of Chicago that features pictures and short descriptions of all of Chicago's churches as of 1916. The book, in its entirety, is available for free download by clicking HERE. I have also excerpted the description and picture of St. Dominic's below.



Here are some current images of St. Dominic's, courtesy of the Street-View feature of Google Maps.

Family Tree as Currently Conceived

Thomas Coyne & Nora King's Chicago Residences

Perhaps one of the most surprising discoveries of our genealogical inquiry has been the frequency with which Thomas Coyne and Nora King, my great-grandparents (dad's mother's parents) moved residences. Still more surprising is the relatively short distances that they moved each time. With each historical record - birth certificate, death certificate, naturalization papers - there is a new address. Here is a map with them pinpointed, followed by a summary timeline with sources in brackets:

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April 29, 1913: 1366 Hudson Ave
[Thomas Coyne's declaration of intention to become naturalized citizen]

July 9, 1913: 1366 Hudson Ave.
[birth certificate of James Joseph Coyne]

March 29, 1915: 300 W. Oak St.
[birth certificate of Mary Jane Coyne]

September 1917: 351 W. Oak St.
[birth certificate of Thomas Michael Coyne]

1917/18: 351 W. Oak St.
[Thomas Coyne's World War I draft registration card]

April 24, 1920: 1007 Sedgwick St.
[Thomas Coyne's petition for naturalization]

September 21, 1920: 1007 Sedgwick St.
[Thomas Coyne's naturalization]

July 17, 1920: 1018 Sedgwick Ave.
[Nora King's death certificate]

April 15, 1924: 160 W. Oak St.
[Letter from Probation Officer to Thomas Coyne]

June 25, 1926: 1848 Lincoln Ave.
[Letter from Thomas Coyne to Plumas County, California County Attorney]

June 30, 1926: 1848 Lincoln Ave.
[Letter from Plumas County, California County Attorney to Thomas Coyne]

August 6, 1926: 1848 Lincoln Ave.
[Letter from Ms. B. Mahoney to Thomas Coyne]

Relevant Links for West Galway

Connemara Heritage & History Centre

Connemara Heritage Tours - walking tours led by local archaeologist and writer Michael Gibbons

Folding Landscapes - publishing company started by Tim Robinson, of Roundstone

Roundstone Community Blog & Website

Connemara.net

Errisbeg House - home of Richard Duc de Stacpoole

O'Dowd's Restaurant & Bar in Roundstone

Email Addresses:
Brian Rabbitt (West Galway Family History Society) - galwayfshwest@eircom.net
Mary Geraghty (Marless House, Salthill) - marlesshouse@eircom.net
Geraldine Coyne (Lisara House, Roundstone) - lisaraguests@eircom.net
Margaret Coyne (Le Fjord House, Leenane) - margaretcoyne2000@yahoo.com