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I have known Tom Hartley for 55
years. During that time he has given decades of service to the republican
cause. He has been an organiser, a writer, a propagandist, a leader. During the
anti-internment protests of the early 1970s, and then the H-Block/Armagh
campaign he was in the front line. He was Chair of Sinn Féin in Belfast and
then during the hunger strikes in 1980 and1981 he was responsible for the Sinn
Féin Prisoner of War dept ensuring that we had a line of communication
with the prisons.
In the 1980s Tom was Ard Runai of the
party. With the development of the Sinn Fein peace strategy Tom, along with Jim
Gibney, led our effort to engage with political and civic unionism and the
Protestant Churches. Later Tom became a popular Belfast City Councillor and
Mayor of the City
Among Tom’s many talents – a bodhrán
maker and player par excellence with a fine taste for good food and
fine wine – he is also an historian who has written about the people and
history of Belfast through his books on the City Cemetery; Milltown Cemetery,
and Balmoral Cemetery.
Tom decided many years ago that the
republican history of the city – often ignored by the more established
institutions – needed to be told and preserved. So Tom became a collector.
Posters, leaflets, badges, publications, books, speeches, in fact anything that
wasn’t nailed down would find its way into the Linen Hall library for the
perusal and preservation of this and future generations. Mostly republican but
his collection also reflects the differences of opinion and politics within our
society.
In 2016 the Ulster Museum began its
‘Collecting the Troubles and Beyond’ project to which Tom has donated over
2,000 objects. Last week Tom opened his own unique collection. A
Collectors Story. At the well attended event he said: “If you’re not
seen – you’re not heard. When you’re not heard someone else will steal your
voice, either distort or silence your narrative.”
So, take the time to go to the Ulster
Museum. You won’t be disappointed. Tom has made an invaluable and innovative
contribution to the story telling of Ireland. Well done chara.
No Smoking
Back in the day my generation, or
most of us, used to smoke. It was the social thing to do at that time.
Gallagher’s Blues, Park Drive, Woodbine were the ‘feg’ of choice. Some
shops sold them as single cigarettes. Some were also available in packs of
five. I came upon an empty packet of 5 Woodbine recently. It sparked memories
and a regret that I ever smoked. It was Joe Magee’s fault. Joe was a neighbour
and a childhood friend. Joe is my pal to this day. He lives in Australia
now. He introduced me to nicotine.
Later when he joined the Merchant
Navy Joe brought home duty free Capstan, Benson and Hedges, Marlboro - I think
that featured a cowboy in its adverts. He also brought Peter
Stuyvesant and Camel into our lives. And our lungs. Once he went very
arty with Gauloise Bleu before descending to rolling his own. Rizla cigarette
papers wrapped around Golden Virginia tobacco. There was even a little machine
for rolling cigarettes, complete with filter tips. When Joe and I started
smoking filter tip cigarettes weren’t so popular.
Trips to Dublin introduced us to
Sweet Afton and Major Extra Size along with Carrolls Number 1. It seemed
everyone smoked in those days. In this current smoke free era it is hard to
imagine how smoggy public places could be back then. Talk of smoke filled
rooms? Pubs, cafes vied with Picture Houses and Concert Halls, Committee Rooms
and Changing Rooms for that title.
And our houses were the same. Most
homes had ash trays. Some were rather stylish perched on their own column of
brass or glass or wood. Now they are rarely to be seen except as treasures on
the Antique Road Show. Nowadays smokers stand outside in
doorways and little shelters, like banished children of Eve, clustered
together in all types of weather having a wee drag. I am told that romance
often flourishes in these close encounters.
I used to smoke everything.
Everything legal that is. Cigarettes, Cheroots, Cigars. The Pipe. Sometimes all
at the same time. Well not exactly all at once. My mouth isn’t as big as that,
contrary to the claims of the usual jealous detractors.
Then I caught myself on. I started to
try to give them up. I did it so many times I got good at it. Sometimes
when I was trying to stop I used to keep a few fegs in a packet in my
pocket. When the urge was on me to smoke I would take out a cigarette and talk
to it.
‘Do you really think you’re gonna
break me?’ I would tell it.
Some times that worked. Other times
the cigarette faced me down. No matter how tough I talked it was well schooled
in ant-interrogation techniques. It said nothing. I must confess, pardon the
pun, that when I told the cigarette everything I knew
about smoking and after I strenuously disassociated
myself from and repudiated all connections with it, occasionally I broke and
succumbed to the urge for one ‘last’ smoke.
It was the same in prison as it was
out of prison. I struggled with my addiction. Cigarettes are like
currency in prison. Especially among the Ordinary Decent Criminals, as the
Brits call them. To distinguish them from the political prisoners. Tobacco used
to be king in those penal circles.
Toítíní was also a highly prized commodity for us politicos. Especially
in punishment regimes where they were mostly forbidden. Or very scarce. I
remember one comrade smoking tea leaves wrapped in toilet roll. He only managed
two drags. Others scrounged discarded cigarette butts and shredded them into
rollups. Sometimes using pages from The Bible. Holy Smokes.
Colette smoked too. Though she
confined herself to cigarettes. Then our oldest lad, alerted in school to the
dangers of smoking, started to admonish us. So I stopped. But then I broke
again. I never let on. It was a temporary lapse I told myself.
One day I was having a sneaky puff in
the toilet. I neglected to lock the door. The oldest lad burst in. He caught me
feg in hand. He was so let down and disappointed in me there was only one
thing I could do. I stopped smoking there and then. One of the best things I ever
did for my health. Go raibh maith agat Gearóid.
Colette stopped as well, some time
afterwards. But better late than never. Since then we live in a smoke free
zone.
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