Source: Tuam Herald, February 6, 1993

OCTOBER 27th, 1922, was a significant day in the history of Tuam – the arrival of the first Civic Guards to open a station in the town. This was just eight months after the Gárda Siochana was founded.
In early Spring of that year, on February 9th, the Force was established by Michael Collins, Home Affairs Minister Kevin O’Higgins and Michael Staines, the first Gárda Commissioner.
Last year a special plaque was unveiled by the then Minister for Justice, Padraig Flynn, in Room 85 of the Gresham Hotel where this historic event took place, to mark the 70th anniversary.
A special video tracing the history of the Force was then commissioned and will be available soon to the public in this, the 7Ist year of the Guardians of the Peace.
Sitting contentedly at his cosy fireside in Northgate Street, Athenry, is 93-year-old Frank O’Rourke, an original member and  Gárda veteran who joined the ranks on August 22nd, 1922. The late Michael Shannon, Tuam, also joined on that day. Frank remembers clearly: “His registration number was 1753, three Guards senior to me – mine was 1756.
 
Born in Ballinaboy, Co. Leitrim, on December 2nd, 1899, Frank had spent four weeks in the 19th century! His first posting after training in Dublin Castle was to open the new barracks at Tuam
with nine other Guards and two Sergeants.
 
“We did not know where we were going and we had no place to stay. The building had only outer doors. All the inner doors had been used for firewood by the I.R.A. who were preparing to blow up the place. Lofts and joists on each floor of the three storey building were being pulled down to make the explosion more effective when the then Archbishop of Tuam, Dr. Gilmartin, intervened and persuaded them not to do it.”
How did you travel to Tuam from Dublin, presumably with luggage?
“Each man carried his own bed and box of private belongings and we came by train to Athenry. There we were then, standing in the rain at the railway station, waiting for a way to get out. The military were across the road in the Railway Hotel, commandeering stuff. But with us, in charge, was a senior Sergeant, Hugh Ruddy, an ex-member of the R.I.C. who had been stationed in Tuam and had recently returned from America to join the Gardai. Transport for us and our belongings was found because of him.
“Mr. John Hession, a businessman in High Street Tuam, who lived at the Mall (Father of well known solicitor James M. Hession) happened to be at the station with his lorry to collect supplies. Ruddy recogrised him and he was requested to stand by. Mr. Hession had to leave his own collection, take us and our twelve wire-sprung iron beds and boxes to Tuam and return later for his own stuff. On the way, two train engines had been deliberately derailed by the I.R.A. at Ballyglunin Station. And there were no lights in the town when we pulled up at the barracks.”
Where did you sleep that night? Was it possible to sleep in the barracks?
“No, it was covered in layers of mortar and rubble where the joists had been knocked down. We had no place and did not know at first where we were going to sleep, but eventually we took our beds again and slept in the Courthouse. (There is a pause while Frank succumbs to a sudden fit of laughter) and he continues: “One man even put his bed in the witness box.”
How long did this situation continue?
“For about a week. During the day we worked at clearing up the mess in the barracks and them moved our beds back in. We lived there for three years.”
 
It was repaired some three years later in 1925 by Jim Stockwell, building contractor, and father of footballer Frank.
 
Were you aware of anti- Gárda feeling then?
“Yes, but never afraid. I was only two weeks in Tuam when two Garda bicycles were stolen by the I.R.A.”
 
What did you do about that?
“Nothing. They also stole clothes from O’Malley’s of High Street and Walsh’s.” You did not arrest them.
“Oh Lord, we would not go near them. They were armed, we were not. It was a matter for the army. Besides we were advised by headquarters to stay away.”
 
What other crimes bad been committed in the town?
“A carload of R.I.C. men were travelling to Dunmore and just two miles out the road two of them were shot by the I.R.A. As a reprisal the R.I.C. with the Black and Tans burned down the Town Hall and Canney’s shop. And they damaged the front of Nohilly’s. Though Sergeant Hugh Ruddy was a member of the R.I.C. and had served many years in Tuam he would not take part in the burning. He went out the back of the barracks and on to the Dublin Road and never came back. The I.R.A. arranged for him to escape to America, otherwise he would be slaughtered. He was very popular when he returned and joined the Gardai.”
Was there any member of your family in the R.I.C.?
“No, but my brother was a First Lieutenant in the I.R.A.
 
How long did you spend in Tuam?
“Five years. Tuam was a grand station to be in at that time. I used do the nine Fridays and coming back from Confession one Thursday the whole place was held up by strange men wearing white bands. The I.R.A. were attacking the Free State Army who were holed up in the workhouse. I continued along though there was danger of crossfire. They questioned me but let me go.” Frank was transferred to Kilconly where he spent the next four years and then to Corrandulla.
 
What type of crime was there?
“Illegal fishing in the Clare river and poteen making, Corrandulla and indeed all that Corrib country was swimming in poteen then. We once found five gallons of it in Headford.”
 
Why were the Civie Guards so anti-poteen?
“Apart from being illegal, nearly 50 per cent of the patients in Ballinasloe Mental Hospital were there because of over-indulgence in it.”
His next position was in Oranmore and it was during four years here that he returned to Tuam to pick his bride. He married Annie Fahy of High Street (daughter of Simon Fahy) at Tuam Cathedral. Athenry was his last posting, and he arrived there in February, 1935, destined to spend the next 27 years working there.
 
It was here he retired on his birthday, December 2nd, 1962, having spent a total of 40 years and four months in the Force.
 
Did you ever have any regrets about the career you had chosen?
“Never, it gave me a good life and still does. My pension with my original registration number, 1756, regularly comes through the post.”
Frank, a talented violinist, used to play at feiseanna and dances in Tuam’s Town Hall. “I played for the famous step-dancer Rory O’Connor,” he told me.
His music has been inherited by his five children, four girls and one boy, and daughter Sheri follows in his footsteps and plays the violin. The musical genes continue to his grandchildren. Grandson Sean Parr (whose mother Patricia and her accordion player husband Dominic take care of Frank) plays the banjo.
A pipe smoker of ready rubbed tobacco all his life, this alert, healthy 93-year-old now lights up. After I strike two matches and make two vain attempts to light his pipe for him, I abandon the idea. He kindles it himself and the tobacco glows brightly as he pulls.
 
With the recorder now off, a glass of brandy in his hand and another in mine (graciously served by Patricia) he relaxes and really reminisces.
There is one thing I never liked and that was publicity.”
The situation is now reversed and the questions come from him. “Why have you so much interest in this? Sure nobody wants to hear it. It’s Dutch to young people. (The implied compliment was heartening though I suppose when you are 93 even someone my age appears young). Once you start writing I do not want to talk.” A private man! I abandon the pen!
With the lovely aroma of the pipe and the blue smoke spiralling up (were I a smoker it would be a pipe) he continues, now as absorbed as I was.
 
“I remember my first holiday. It was April 8th, 1923. It was only an odd guard then who would go home on holiday.”
Why?
Because they might be beaten up by the I.R.A. you see, but I did. I cycled from Tuam to Ballinaboy in Leitrim. Cycling was easy, though if the wind was not against you. But it was, so it was tough. Coming back some days later there wasn’t a breeze but it rained all the way. I was so wet I could hardly get off the bike in case I tore my clothes. There was a guard from Drumshambo stationed in Killaloe, Co. Clare, who regularly cycled from there to Athenry, stayed the night with me and we both cycled home to Leitrim next day.
 
“We had to get permission from the Chief to have a motor-bike and were not allowed to use it on duty. Only bicycles, which we bought ourselves, or walking. There’s an awful change now, it’s all car patrolling.”
To me: “Do you know Tuam at all?”
“Yes, I live there.”
Instant interest! Obviously this town still pulls at his heartstrings.
“Because I married a girl from Tuam I could not work there. We were not allowed. Actually it was easier working away from home amongst strangers where you were not known, and make your friends there.”
Why was this?
“Because of favours being asked.
Even tinkers at the time would know where you were from.”
Frank and Annie bought their home, this very house in Northgate Street, when they moved to Athenry. Despite his wife’s death in 1967 and his retirement, he has remained here, in and at the heart of Athenry.
His close friend, a Garda veteran too, Pat Kearns, died here last year. Frank misses the chats with him.
Will you return to Lovely Leitrim at the end?
“No, I hope to be buried in Athenry.” This gentle, humble man, who wonders at the interest in him and his memories, is unique. Not only because there are now so few of the original veterans left in the country (just four), he is history actually speaking! A live part of our special heritage. A living legend!
Meeting him was a privilege….

– BRIDGET TYNAN