“Cherishing” the Diaspora: Thoughts from Kennesaw Mountain

Last summer myself, and Damian Shiels of the Irish in the American Civil War site, walked the battlefield of Kennesaw Mountain just north of Atlanta on the 150th anniversary of the fight there. On a hot and humid late June day we climbed the mountain with hundreds of other Civil War enthusiasts, went across to “Little Kennesaw,” followed to ridge line to Pigeon Hill, and finally, on to the Illinois memorial on Cheatham Hill.[1] Along the way we passed numerous places where Irishmen from Georgia, Mississippi, Missouri, Tennessee, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois had fought on June 28th, 1864. In one place just east of Cheatham’s Hill we came on the place where the men of Corkman Patrick’s Cleburne division saw combat. Among them were the Irish Memphians of the 3rd and 5th Confederate Infantry regiments, one of the most Irish units in the whole Confederate army, made up mostly of labourers from the docks on the Mississippi river at Memphis and company of Irish ditch diggers from Vicksburg, Mississippi. One of the units across the lines from them that day were the 35th Indiana, known as the “First Irish” of Indianapolis. During the battle in front of Cleburne’s division the scrub caught fire and threatened to burn alive the Union wounded. Only a quickly arranged truce saved numerous lives. At the other end of the battlefield, in front of the mountain itself, General Thomas Sweeny, also native of Cork, commanded the 2nd division of the 16th Corps of the Union Army of the Tennessee. Only a few weeks before Sweeny had sent a message across the lines to his fellow Corkman asking Cleburne to join with him in a Fenian Army to liberate their homeland after this American conflict was over. Cleburne reportedly replied that they would probably have had “fighting enough to last them for the rest of their lives.”[2]

In general though, the Irish who fought on both sides rarely spoke of fighting other Irishmen on the other side. The scene recreated in the movie Gods and Generals where the Irish Confederates behind the stonewall at Fredericksburg, with tears in their eyes; complain of the misguided Union Irish Brigade charging up the hill towards them is pure fiction. Irishmen in general just got on with the fight, though a British visitor to the Confederacy did notice that Irishmen had no compunction about killing their fellow countrymen. “Southern Irishmen” he wrote “make excellent ‘Rebs’ and have no scruple in killing as many of their northern brethren as they can.”[3]

What remains remarkable, however, is why would Irish immigrants on both sides end up fighting on a winter’s day in 1862 on a hill above a town in Virginia or a summer’s day in 1864 on a Georgia mountain range? Damian and I were dressed appropriately in summer clothes for our hike across Kennesaw but still felt the intense heat. We were glad of the water for sale in the National Parks Service shop and the water fountain along the way. What had it been like then for the Irish on the field in June in their wool uniforms? They were thousands of miles from home. Most had fled famine to find themselves on opposite sides of a conflict not of their making. Some did not make it off those hills, and others literally left parts of themselves behind (James McGowan of the Irish Jasper Greens from Savannah, for example, lost an arm in the battle).

Beyond Kennesaw, more than 200,000 Irishmen (180,000 Federals; 20,000 Confederate) served in America’s bloodiest war with over 50,000 making the ultimate sacrifice. These are numbers comparable to, and perhaps greater than, the Irish involvement in World War I. Those men who fought in the First World War though were fighting for their own country, a nation that appeared to be heading for Home Rule within the United Kingdom. They had both the inducements of government and national party to join up. The Irish in America had a way out of that conflict when Queen Victoria on behalf of her government declared neutrality in the conflict in May 1861 making it illegal for any British subject to join either army.[4] The Irish government has rightly spent a lot of effort around remembering this participation and has also committed to recognizing upcoming centenaries around the War as well as events such as the birth of W. B. Yeats in 1865 and of course is making a major effort around the centenary of the Easter Rebellion next year.  Yet, apart from a welcome statement by Minister for the Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Heather Humphreys, at a Great Famine commemoration in New Orleans last year acknowledging the Irish involvement in the War, there has been nothing official from the Irish government. Though charged under the new Article 2 of the Constitution with “cherish[ing] its special affinity with people of Irish ancestry living abroad who share its cultural identity and heritage,” just affirmed this month by the Department of Foreign Affairs in a new diaspora policy which envisions “a vibrant and diverse, global Irish community connected to Ireland and each other.” As part of this self-stated “new” focus on the Irish and their descendants abroad, the government promises to “facilitate a wide range of activity at local, national, and international level designed to build on and develop two way diaspora engagement.”

This promise is welcome as the recent scepticism expressed by some about the 2013 “Gathering” as just another gimmick to milk the diaspora for money, highlighted that for too long many have seen the relationship as a one-way engagement. Yes, Irish government ministers are all over the globe today celebrating Irishness, but it seems too much of a “once-a-year” effort around the St. Patrick’s season. Despite this criticism, the Diaspora embraced the Gathering, especially the tens of thousands of Irish Americans who caused a “double-digit” growth in visits to Ireland from the U.S. that year, and ultimately it was largely a success. Perhaps it is time then to give something back to the diaspora, especially to the 30 million plus Americans who identify themselves as Irish American. Damian and I, along with a dozen or so other scholars interested in the Irish diaspora, have provided an opportunity for the Irish people through their government to do something to commemorate the sacrifice of their ancestors in an American cause. We have asked for a small effort to be held in Ireland, incorporating a conference, a musical concert, and an official commemoration, around the involvement of the Irish in the American Civil War, hopefully to occur in this final sesquicentennial year of the Civil War. However, we’ve waited almost three months now for a decision. This delay is unfortunate as it would have been great for the Taoiseach on his current visit to the U.S. to tell Irish Americans that Ireland would recognize the sacrifice of their ancestors. He could have also told President Obama today, someone very aware of the Civil War, and in it the first President from Illinois’s efforts to end slavery, that the Irish government would be commemorating the Irish effort in the first significant redefining moment of U.S. history. Indeed, at the inauguration in 2009, the bicentennial of Lincoln’s birth, Obama explicitly recognized the links between Lincoln’s calling for “a new birth of freedom” and his election as the first African American president. In an era when many Irish Americans were on the wrong side of history, it would be good to remind all Irish people and Americans of the complexities that drove Irishmen to fight on both sides but also that, whatever their motivations, those 180,000 or so in the Union army played an important role in its most important outcome, the legal end of slavery.

It’s not too late for Ireland to right this egregious omission in its commemoration activities. The results of the War were still felt in the U.S. during the tumultuous Reconstruction period from 1865 to 1877 and in Ireland with the continuous Fenian activities from 1865 through the 1880s, the latter often driven by Irish- and Irish American-born veterans. Only then can we understand fully why those Irish in America came to fight and die in the mountains near Atlanta and indeed in fields all over the United States from Pennsylvania to Texas. In the process we hope we can restore them to their prominent place in the story of the Irish diaspora and of Ireland itself. Remembering them properly would be one good way to cherish the Irish who left the shores of Ireland for new lives across the Atlantic.

[1] The best book on the battle is Earl J. Hess, Kennesaw Mountain: Sherman, Johnston, and the Atlanta Campaign (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2013).

[2] Irving A. Buck, Cleburne and His Command (New York: The Neale Publishing Co., 1908), 240-41.

[3]Arthur Lyon Freemantle, quoted in David T. Gleeson, The Green and the Gray: The Irish in the Confederate States of America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2013), 104.

[4] Howard Jones, Blue and Gray Diplomacy: A History of Union and Confederate Foreign Relations (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2010), 42-45


The Path Not Taken: Congressman John Roy Lynch

ImageIn September 1847 John Roy Lynch was born on Tacony Plantation, to Catherine White, a native of Virginia, and Patrick Lynch, a native of Dublin, Ireland. Patrick and Catherine had met when he came from Ohio, where his family had emigrated, for Catherine’s “master.” Catherine was an enslaved woman working on the plantation. Though Pat and Catherine had married, the marriage was not legal ,and both she, and their son John Roy, remained under the “ownership” of the planter. Pat Lynch immediately set about the only option available to him, to purchase his wife and child. The owner agreed and the Irishman left for New Orleans to raise the funds. Unfortunately, he died before executing the contract and left the process and money already collected in the care of a good friend. Akin to the Solomon Northrup of 12 Years a Slave, however, Catherine and John Roy were betrayed and remained in slavery. John Roy was eventually separated from his mother and did get the freedom due him when he left the plantation for the Union lines in occupied Natchez, across the Mississippi River in 1863.

Picking up some odd jobs from the Union army, Lynch got his break when “through an intimate friend of my father,” Patrick H. McGraw, he earned a position in a city photography business. McGraw, a native of Co. Down, local pharmacist, and a lay leader of the Catholic Church in the city, [and reputedly a Confederate smuggler] secured Lynch the job from a firm which operated in his building in downtown Natchez. Starting as a messenger but then qualifying as an apprentice the job gave Lynch the status and time to hone his political skills as he soon rose to managing the business for the proprietor.  The financial independence gained from a white collar occupation brought him into politics and he soon earned a reputation as a good speaker and at the age of 21 was appointed by Republican authorities as a Justice of the Peace.  From there he was elected, with major support from recently enfranchised freedmen, to the Mississippi State Legislature, taking part in the Constitutional convention which endorsed the 14th Amendment, promising “equal protection of the laws” to all citizens. Lynch impressed so much that he became the first black speaker of the Mississippi House and then the Republican congressional candidate for the 4th Congressional District, which included Natchez.  Elected in 1873 as Mississippi’s first black congressman at the age of 26. Lynch became a strong advocate for legislation to build on the guarantees in the 14th Amendment.  In the violent and corrupt election of 1876, however, Lynch was denied his seat, even though if the election had been fair, he would have been easily re-elected. Remarkably he managed to fight off Democrat opposition and regained the seat in another disputed election in1880 only relinquishing it at the next election.    

Effectively out of representative politics he turned instead to the law and passed the Mississippi Bar in 1896 just as Jim Crow and disfranchisement of African Americans in the state became enshrined. He found it difficult to make a living and left for the north. Remaining a loyal Republican he endorsed the Spanish American War, volunteering and serving in Cuba and the Philippines. His fame from this effort gave him the connections to find a publisher for his book The Facts of Reconstruction which vigorously defended the record of Radical Republicans and African Americans in the attempt to fulfil the equality promised of the Declaration of Independence. Settling in Chicago, Lynch lived until 1939 and, as was his right as a former congressman and veteran of the Spanish American War, he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

Lynch always acknowledged, as he described it, his “Irish descent,”  even while noting that the Irish took the wrong side in Reconstruction. In one visit to St. Louis, Missouri, for example, he was warned that the wait staff in a hotel would not like him because they were Irish and he was black. He assured the owner that as he was of Irish extraction himself that he could handle the situation, and indeed he did, getting on well with the immigrants. Despite Lynch’s Irishness, the hotel owner was right to be nervous about Irish reaction to black clients. Though some were attracted to the Republican vision for a truly “new South,” most turned away from it endorsing instead the white supremacy of the Democrats. Irishmen were often at the centre of racial incidents such as the Memphis riot of 1866 when Irish policemen attacked black homes and institutions. Many of these African Americans had escaped from slavery in the cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta, only to face the wrath of Irish Americans. Even though he wrote a detailed memoir in the last year of his life, John Roy Lynch does not have an official historic marker in Mississippi. Perhaps, then, an Irish American effort to help organize one would be an appropriate gesture to acknowledge the Irishness of the state’s first black congressman, but also the path not taken by most of his fellow Irish Americans.  

Irish-English/British Conflict in America

It is a truism that for a period in the histories of Britain and the United States the Irish were an oppressed people. They may, on occasion, have made more of their oppression than actually occurred. But there can be no denying the antipathy and enmity, at times amounting to prejudice, which at times they faced. For a generation or two—prior to the famine of the 1840s, and or perhaps two decades after it—rising numbers of Irish immigrants in the industrial cities of Britain and the major urban settlements of north-eastern America were hard-pressed by nativist impulses highlighting their alien religion, foreign culture and low socio-economic status. ‘Outcast’, ‘apart’, communities-within-communities: some have even claimed the Irish were ghettoized—psychologically, at least, if not literally physically.

In the United States, where the passions of exiled Irish nationalism burned most brightly, the total of all of this negative experience ultimately strengthened Irish community-sense and thus aided assimilation. Amidst the realities of victimisation there emerged powerful grievances based not entirely on myths or lies, but on exaggerated claims. Take for example ‘No Irish Need Apply’ (NINA) notices and adverts. Though few in number—much more rare than in Britain, for instance—NINA exclusions became the badge of oppression. Despite slavery, and the harsh realities of anti-black racism, many Irish saw themselves as the hardest done to group in that society. And certainly the most reviled of the white immigrant nations. To suggest that Irishmen may actually have done rather well in the end, and that they may have flexed their muscles very effectively to invert the experience of their cousins in Britain who really were pressed and constrained, is to cut against a powerful group self-image.

Rather than permanent constraints upon the immigrants, Richard Jensen has argued that motifs like NINA were used to strengthen ethnic group solidarity. Other contexts also brought out this same impulse. For example, Irish workers fought the English and Welsh for their piece of the New Republic. With often far superior numbers to the other UK immigrants, the Irish were eventually able to cause the kind of inconvenience to the English or Welsh that they habitually felt imposed on them in England or Wales.

The most obvious case of this type of Irish assertiveness is seen in the work of the Molly Maguires. Part-Ribbonite, part-labourite, the Mollies have been spectacularly rescued from the constricting narrative of primitive Catholic pro-nationalism by Kevin Kenny’s ground-breaking Making Sense of the Molly Maguires. In Kenny’s work, Irish Catholic are seen not as proto-Fenians but as a secret-society trade union resisting the victimisation and summary injustice of an unequal application of the rule of the law. Dominated by Welshman, who were the superintendents and foremen in the Pennsylvania pits, and ignored by skilled Protestant fellow Irishmen from mining regions of the homeland, these Irish bridled and fought back—often very violently, sometimes murderously.

Ribbonism brought in from Ireland was a learnt modus operandi. After all, what were the Molly Maguires of Pennsylvania other than Ribbonmen modified for an industrial experience? These Molly Maguires weren’t invented in America; they were beaten out on the anvils rural and small-town Ireland and reforged in the furnaces of American industry. The Mollies’ struggle for recognition in these tough industrial communities involved a spectacular series of murders, mostly of Welshmen, from the late 1860s to the mid-1870s. Kenny is right to see these men as an Irish group protecting and asserting themselves against Welshmen whose power had often been venally used.

The Irish would correctly maintain that the Mollies (extreme though they were) fitted into a wider ethnic struggle for parity in the new communities. The Welsh and English—the British more generally—were probably surprised to find the Irish so numerous and so assertive. They certainly worried at their achievement of political power in the cities as the century progressed, and were part of that general Protestant-Nativist upsurge in the 1850s that took the form of the ‘Know Nothing’ movement. Such anti-immigrant, anti-Catholic formations could still be seen nearly half-a-century later in the American Protective Association.

Clearly, the British no longer had it all their way. As such, there was an inversion of normal expectations when they and the Irish took landfall in America. At home, the English had been top dogs: numerically superior, socially better off, and so able to exert control. In the US, particularly post-Famine, the Irish out-numbered the English in many towns and cities—with the Germans they were the top immigrant group in all of the USA’s 50 largest cities in 1870. What could Britons do in the face of this, other than organize as the Irish themselves were organising?

Colonial English elites had actually been forming St George’s societies as early as 1733 when the men of Charleston were first off the mark. From the middle decades of the following century, working-class Englishmen followed suit, planting variety of smaller orders and lodges that adopted the ritual and ceremony of the confraterntal orders. In so doing, they clearly showed an ethnic awareness. One of these organizations, the Order of the Sons of St George (also called the Lodge of the Sons of St George), drew negative inspiration from the Irish. Founded in Pennsylvania, in the 1870s, to resist the Mollies’ tyranny, and attracting both Britons and Americans, the Sons of St George sought to mobilize an ‘Anglo-Saxon’ vote against the rising Irish one. This campaign was widespread, drawing support from Chicago to the tidewater.

While it is tempting to put these sectarian tensions down to the peculiar conditions of the economy and labour force in these mining districts, it is interesting that the middle-class officers of the St George’s Society also occasionally revealed anti-Irish anxieties. They did so at about the same time that Scranton and other coal towns crackled with sectarian tension. For instance, on hearing of the imprisonment of a number of English immigrants for sleeping rough in the city, the secretary of the St George’s Society of Baltimore, in January 1874, let go with an intemperate broadside that is worth recounting in detail:

The boast “Britons ever shall be slaves” will be a mockery when any Fenian policeman or Magistrate can incarcerate an Englishman as a felon to “feed fat his ancient grudge” imported from the Emerald Isle, where prejudice and bigotry and religious animosity warp men’s minds and bend their reason […] The acts of the Society have been in a great part to advance the prosperity of the United States by enabling immigrants to turn their skill and labor into profitable channels. The St George’s Society is essentially an American society. But it is a Benevolent Society and one important duty is to guard the friendless immigrant from oppression by petty tyrants.

Comments like these were not isolated. In the 1880s the new British-American Association of the State of New York was founded by Englishmen intent, said the New York Times, on bringing all naturalized ‘Britons’ together in order to make good American citizens of immigrants. The Association promoted ‘good feeling and harmony between the governments of the United States and Great Britain’ and sought, in New York City, ‘to aid in the election of good men to political offices.’ What this meant in reality was ‘good’ Britons, not ‘bad’ Irishmen.

The same theme was still being mentioned to gatherings of Englishmen in the next decade. The New York-based Canadian businessman and socialite, Erastus Wiman, brought a classic mix of negative emotions to bear, in August 1890, in an address to ‘a large assemblage of English workingmen and their wives and children’ in New York state. For him ‘the duty and power of the Englishmen in America are epitomized in two words—naturalize and organize.’ Furthermore: ‘it is difficult to conceive what higher duty or nobler purpose could animate an Englishman than to participate in the government of such a country as this’. And he finished by, once more, damning the Irish for their political success. The terms were hardly flattering:

The impression made by the Irish people in America is greater than that of any alien race. It is a strange study that a people who are practically unable to govern themselves should without previous experience or without the slightest knowledge of practically govern the greatest nation under the sun.

In New York, Boston, Cincinnati, and other cities, Irish bosses were rising. The Democratic machine rang with the noise of Irish political industry. City offices and jobs had been tied up. But was it so bad for the English? Had they become a reduced race held in thrall by Irish overlords? Or was their social status too agreeable to merit the great political energy Irishmen had found it practically impossible to avoid?

In the 1900s, when the Dillingham Commission began to produce its massive reports into every imaginable aspect of immigrant life, the English (often alongside the Germans) seemed to have a monopoly on highly-paid skilled jobs, and dominated managerial positions and foremen roles in many industries: textiles, engineering, extraction, and others. Moreover, the Irish community contained more rootless single men and so a lower proportions of family groups; it looked socio-economically more like Greeks or Lithuanians than like the English, Scots or Germans. The English fears described here were ultimately fanciful, in socio-economic terms. For on the factory floor, where most people were—and whether in Massachusetts, New York State, or Pennsylvania—the Englishman and his family looked much the more comfortable.

It was in politics that the English could remain more ostracized than the Irish. Moreover politics was a sphere with dangers for Englishmen that Irishmen did not face. The Civil War was the pivot upon which this swung. Then, Irishmen could prove their loyalty by forming prominent Irish units. With Queen Victoria’s declaration of neutrality, loyal British subjects could not do the same. The English in particular felt the ire of Americans with the British Consul in New York noting that it was unsafe to describe oneself “as British or English.” The furore over the Trent affair and the Alabama claims, along with the open activities of the Fenians, increased feelings of British alienation in America. The quick Irish adaptation to American politics and their growing influence on it in the late 19th century, only exacerbated these feelings. The growth of American empire and President McKinley’s support for Britain in the Boer War eased anti-British attitudes, but it would take the First World War to reverse the popular antipathy toward England and Britain and begin the so-called “Special Relationship.”

All this Irish activism against Britain both on the micro and macro level in America points to the reality of British feelings of diaspora in America. Their assimilation was not automatic or easy. It also indicates that the Irish could often give as good as they got and more in the ethnic conflicts of 19th-century America. Rather than being overwhelmed by the modern, industrial United States, Irish immigrants combined cultural legacies from Ireland with a direct engagement in American politics to integrate themselves better into the American scene better and may explain why, between 1880 and 1930, despite their better economic position, as Mark Wyman has shown, English immigrants were almost twice as likely (1-in-5 versus 1-in-10) as the Irish to leave America and return home.

The Antebellum Irish and the “Gang of Eight” Bill

A couple of weeks ago Irish Foreign Minister Eamon Gilmore made a trip to the United States “to meet members of the U.S. Congress to lobby them on behalf of immigration reform,” in the particular the “Gang of Eight” bill which had just recently passed the U.S. Senate. Among other things, the bill provides a method to legalise and provide a “path to citizenship” for the estimated 11 million+ undocumented aliens in the United States. Gilmore met with leading House of Representatives members, where the bill has been sent from the Senate, to lend the Irish government’s support to the legislation.

Immigration reform in America is apparently back on the Irish government’s agenda with an estimated 50,000+ Irish living and working illegally in the U.S. During the heady days of the economic boom, with many Irish returning from America to Ireland, and many already there legalized through the Donnelly and Morrison visa programmes, the fate of Irish emigrants abroad fell down the list of priorities. With the massive economic downturn since 2008, however, it is back on the agenda. Tens of thousands of Irish are again leaving Ireland, most heading for the UK or Australia. The U.S., however, remains a significant destination, despite stringent rules about working there. Hence Minister Gilmore’s interest in U.S. immigration policy.

In the 19th century of course, there was not an Irish government to lobby on behalf of the millions of Irish who travelled America. The UK government was concerned about out- migration from Ireland and its consuls in the U.S. did deal with individual immigrant problems, especially if British subjects were wrongly arrested and incarcerated. During the Civil War, for example, the consuls did trojan work, getting Irish immigrants who refused to serve in the army, out of jail. Similarly, back in Ireland, British authorities tried to stop illegal recruitment of Irish immigrants for the War in Ireland. But, apart from military enlistment, in terms of immigration policy within the United States, the British government did not intervene. Under British law, until the Anglo-American Treaty of 1870, the renunciation of your British allegiance to become an American citizen was not recognized. No matter what oath you had taken to the United States, you remained a subject of the United Kingdom. Lobbying for the citizenship rights of naturalized Americans of Irish birth therefore made no sense. Indeed there is evidence, examined in David Sim’s forthcoming book, of collusion between British consular officials and American nativists. The immigration reform of the 1850s was to restrict the rights of immigrants already in America. The nativist Know-Nothings (American Party) sought to increase the naturalization waiting period from five to twenty-one years, thus diminishing the power of the immigrant, particularly Irish vote in America. This decline would have been welcomed by British government who correctly feared the influence of Irish voters on American foreign policy.

The Irish in America then had to seek the aid of American politicians to fight their corner, and they found this help in the Democratic Party. The party explicitly welcomed immigrants in its party platform and vigorously opposed nativist efforts to restrict immigration. A young Democratic congressman from Mississippi, for example, made his first major speech in Congress opposing nativism. Jefferson Davis called nativists “sordid” on the floor of the House and argued that immigrants were so good for the country that the naturalization process should be amended to make it “more easily accomplished.” There were of course Whigs, the most prominent being William Henry Seward, who supported immigrants, but the anti-immigrant rhetoric of many of the party’s members and newspapers sullied their reputation among the Irish. Davis’s hometown newspaper, the Vicksburg Whig, for example, complained constantly of Irish immigrants being too concerned with Irish politics and too interfering in American politics. The trek of many Whigs to the Know-Northings after the demise of their party in 1853, only confirmed to the Irish that the Whigs had always strongly anti-immigrant. Even pro-Whig Irish commentators such as John L. Prendergast of the Daily Orleanian, had to seek shelter with the Democrats. Prendergast published his newspaper in the old New Orleans Third Municipality, down river from today’s Central Business District and French Quarter in the poorest section of the city. Here working-class natives and immigrants laboured on the docks. Prendergast saw himself as the friend of the Irish working man and endorsed the Whigs because of their support for public infrastructure projects, which often provided a lot of work for immigrants. Like the Irish American economist Mathew Carey, he strongly supported an “American System” where the government would encourage economic activity and protect domestic industries. He railed against the Irish Democrat elite of uptown New Orleans whom he described as a “mushroom aristocracy.” He decried the tokenism of Democratic appointments of Irish to lower-level patronage posts for the Irish support for policies he believed detrimental to their economic interests. It must have killed him to go with the Democrats in 1855, but he did when faced with the reality that most of his former Whig friends in Louisiana had joined the Know-Nothings, whose New Orleans branch was among the most violent in the whole country. The Irish alliance with the Democrats continued to 1860 where, North and South, they despised the Republican Party, which despite Abraham Lincoln’s and Seward’s critiques of nativism, they saw as the Know-Nothings’ successor. The Irish thus overwhelmingly supported the National Democrat, Stephen Douglas in the presidential election of that year.

This almost total Irish embrace of the Democrats in the antebellum era is indicative of the huge importance of party rhetoric to immigrants. The current bill before the House has bipartisan support, in large part because of the severe decline of support by Hispanics for pro-immigration and Spanish speaker George W. Bush from 44 to just 27 percent for Mitt Romney last year. Some commentators believe that this decline did not affect the outcome of the 2012 election, yet a lot of Republicans, especially those with large immigrant populations in their states, seem to disagree. Traditionally, Irish immigrants seeking support have found it with the Democratic Party, in recent times particularly from Congressmen Brian Donnelly and Bruce Morrison and Senator Ted Kennedy. In Gilmore’s trip, however, along with meeting prominent Irish American Democrats such as Senator Patrick Leahy, he had meetings with Republican Speaker John Boehner, Congressmen Paul Ryan and Kevin McCarthy as well as Senator John McCain, the latter long a supporter of immigration reform. The Catholic and Irish American vote has in recent elections echoed the national elections. Paul Ryan’s presence on the Republican ticket could not win Romney the Catholic vote. As the Catholic and Irish American vote goes, so goes the nation, and it was Hispanic Catholics who threw the overall Catholic vote to Obama in 2012. The Irish Americans who chose the Democrats in the antebellum era were more often on the winning side and were especially important in swing states such as New York and Pennsylvania much to the chagrin of the Whigs. Republicans such as McCain and Ryan seem keen not to write off another large swing ethnic bloc in the 21st century and change the tone back to the inclusive one of President G. W. Bush when he stated in a live speech from the Oval Office to the American people that “America needs to debate immigration in a respectful tone” and that “we must always remember that real lives will be affected by our debates and decisions, and that every human being has dignity and value no matter what their citizenship papers say,” rhetoric that would have been music to ears of antebellum Irish immigrants.