Mr.
Finneran was a short man with thick shoulders and large calloused hands from
decades of farming. I first met him in Glanmire, Ireland in 1975 when I stayed
at the Irish youth hostel he ran.
When
I arrived at his hostel, I put my backpack upstairs near my bunk and headed
downstairs for a meal. I had walked over fifteen miles that day. Every muscle
was screaming for food and drink and then to rest.
The
hostel had plenty of foot and drink, but the deep rest I needed would escape me
that night.
When
I walked into the kitchen, Mr. Finneran was telling a saying to a German family.
″If
there is a tree in the middle of a field, you’d best leave it be, for faires
live there.″
The
father of the German family replied, ″Augh,...surely you don’t expect me to
Believe zat one, heah? You Irish tell zum pretty tall tales but zat one is zee
best I’ve heard yet?″
Mr.
Finneran contained.
″
When we told the same fact to the American businessman who was here last year
trying to set up a factory, he laughed the same way ya are right now. But
after the fairies were done with him and his family, they didn’t laugh.″
The
German winked at his two sons and smiled to his wife and laughed.
My
plate of stew, milk, dark bread, butter, biscuits and pudding arrived. I was
famished, and sat at Mr. Finneran’s table and began to eat.
Mr.
Finneran stared at the Germans and went on.
″That
American businessman came here hoping to build some kind of factory. Well, he
hired a number of the local boys to operate the tractors he brought in from
Dublin. He told them where to start. And where was that?″
″Nothing
less than a fairy fort, bigger than any tree in this area, right in the middle
of a fine field, sitting right over the very spot where the American businessman
thinks he’s going to build a factory.″
″Being
smart boys, they knew better than to destroy the home of the fairies and bring
a curse down on them and their families. So, naturally, they refused to cut
down the tree and told the American so.″
I
was half way through my stew and bread and enjoying his story more and more.
But
the Germans, to judge by their facial expessions to each other, were skeptical.
Mr.
Finneran continued.
″When
the boys told the American businessman that they weren’t about to touch a fairy
fort. The American businessman starts laughing like some of you are laughing
at me right now.″
″Then
he says, ‶You people need a lesson in reality!″″
″He
jumps on one of the big Ford tractors he brought down from Dublin, starts it
up, and starts to head righ for the tree.″
″The
boys all began to walk away because they did not want any part of it.″
″Not
the American businessman. He heads right for the fairies home, laughing as he
does so. He’s calling to the boys they they’re superstitious. He strikes the
tree, backs up, and strikes it again.“
″It
took him just minutes to push over the fairy fort tree and rip it out by its
roots. Well, once he gets done he drives over to Flanagan’s where he knew the
boys would be having a pint. He offered to pay for the next round, but the boys
all turned their backs to him. They knew what was about to happen, and they
didn’t want to be near him.″
″He
had a few and got very loose with his tongue. He called the boys backwards and in-bred
for 15 generations but the boys just ignored him. They knew he was a condemned
man.″
″Will
you have some tea, Mr. O‘Brien?″
I
looked up to see Mrs. Finneran holding a pot of tea over my mug.
″Please.
Thank you very much Mrs. Finneran.″
″And
scones, cream and sugar too? ″
″Yes.
Thank you. ″ I answered.
Like
most hostel keepers in Ireland, she knew, as did Mr. Finneran, that their income
was directly tied to the tourist traffic. She provided much warm hospitality
and fine and ample food and drink. This national character trait of the Irish
ensures that Ireland will never lack for tourists.
She
shot Mr. Finneran a look that may have meant for the story to end, but with my
interest and the interest of the German family and the others peaked, Mr. Finneran
continued.
″One
of the boys tried to tell him that if he knew what it was that was good for
him, he would go and see Father Ruane and get his help as quick as possible.
But the American businessman kept laughing at the boys. He said that he didn’t
need a priest to help him build his factory. He said he didn’t try to save
souls and the didn’t expect a priest to help him build his factory.″
Mr.
Finneran took the measure of his audience. He noticed that the whole room was
listening and went on.
″He
said that we know more ways of avoiding work than any race of people. He said
that he had done business all over the world in some of the most backward
corners on earth and had never encountered something as funny as fairy forts.″
Then
he added, ″Why I just can’t wait to get back to the States and tell them this
one. I’ll have people laughing their asses off for hours. Then he started
laughing even louder and said his sides were going to split.″
″The
boys had enough and a few wanted to give the Yank a thrashing. I spoke up and
said to them, ″Boys, just ignore him. The fairies will settle with him. May God
have mercy on this poor American.″″
″The
American businessman starts mocking me with, ″May God have mercy on his soul!
That’s rich! That’s just great! They all believe this fairy fort nonsense. I’ve
got to leave before my sides split.″″
″This
same American businessman had bought one of the ruins when he arrived. He
bought one of the biggest castles and fixed it up for his wife and two girls
and a dog...at least until when he destroyed the fairy fort.‶
Mr.
Finneran knew he had the audience with that last line. He was skilled at pulling
you in little by little and I found myself listening with the rest, despite how
tired I was.
″Now
you would think that when the thought about taking down that fairy fort that if
he didn’t have any regard for his own head that he would have at least thought
of his beautiful American wife, for that everyone agreed she was. His two
golden-haired girls were a sweet as any children. Sad to say, but true
nonetheless, the fairies killed his daughters first because they knew it would
torture his heart, and it did.‶
″The
very afternoon of the morning he felled the tree, his girls were down on the
beach with their dog playing. The dog runs into the water and the girls go in
after the dog. Well, the fairies got their revenge when all three drowned.‶
″The
American businessman’s wife had been watching the children from her kitchen
window. When she saw them run into the water after the dog she ran into the
water after them. As the undertow in that area is very strong, which the fairies
must have known, they chose that way to be rid of the American businessman’s
family before they got rid of him.‶
″It
was an hour later he returned to his castle. People who heard him calling out
for his wife and daughters say it took him only a short time to find them all
washed up on the beach. When he did they say his wailing could be heard all the
way to Westport.‶
″Many
of us went over to help but we knew the fairies wouldn’t stop until they also
had his home as he had taken theirs. That’s the way it has always been. If
you...‶
Mrs.
Finneran interrupted him. ″That’s enough of that story Mr. Finneran. Let these
people get some rest.‶
Mr.
Finneran continued.
″Well...as
you can imagine, the American businessman was beside himself with grief. He
tried to pick up the bodies of his daughters and his wife to get them back to
his castle. As he did, he noticed that were breathing. Because he had never
delt with the fairies, he had the mistaken notion they might live. We, of
course, knew the fairies were just prolonging his agony in a way only they can
do.‶
″Sure
enough, they died right there in his arms. With the roads out here and the
distance to his castle, it took the emergency services some time to arrive.
They confirmed the death of all three. At this point the American businessman
wailed and wailed, and at that point I did feel for him. But all I could do at
that point was to pray for him and his deceased family.‶
From
the corner of my eye, I saw a mother
with four little ones was tearing up.
″But
the last day the American businessman was alive was the saddest day I can
remember, and I’m old enough and Irish enough to remember some very sad days.‶
″He
ran about the town that day begging people for what to do. He went down to the
beach where the fairies originally tricked the dog to go into the sea. Without
hesitation he went into the waves, the pain of living without his daughters and
wives too great for him to bear. As he did, the front door of his castle
closed. No one has bothered the fairies who live there since.
″So
that’s the story of the fairy fort.‶
Mr.
Finneran looked about to see what impact his story had on his visitors. The
German father was the first to speak.
″Zat
is a very, very guud story. Zank you for a very good story, Mr. Finneran. Now Jorge
und Hans und Beatrice and I must zay guud night.‶
Then
he joined the others who were quietly shuffling out of the kitchen to the bunks
upstairs.
Mrs.
Finneran shot Mr. Finneran a scolding look. He smiled back impishly at her,
making it obvious that this was neither the first nor last time he would
disobey her.
Mr.
Finneran broke off his look with his wife and stared at me.
″Well,
you’re an American. What do you think of my story about the American
businessman?‶
I
was tired from my long walk that day and looking forward to sleep, and I gave
him a less than courteous reply.
″I
think that in your mind you believe it and so for you it is true. Being
American myself, I have to wonder if you used an American as the protagonist.
Had there been more American’s in your audience, maybe the protagonist would
have been German. So, I appreciate the tale, but no, I don’t believe it really
happened. Good night, Mr. Finneran.‶
Bone tired, I walked up to the second floor. When I
entered my bunk room, I noticed the backpack I had put on my bunk had been
moved to the floor. Odd. I grabbed my toiletry bag from my backpack and headed
for the shower.
Despite only cold water being available, the shower was a
piece of heaven. When I began to shave, I noticed that Mr. Finneran had entered
the bathroom. His look was hard and angry.
″Since you didn’t like my fairy fort story much, I have
another one for you. One day not long ago this American student was downstairs
in the kitchen going on and on about how he thought the time for the IRA had
long passed. I told him he should keep his thoughts to himself, but he kept
running his mouth.‶
″Later that night he went to O’Shannesey’s down the
street. He returned with a bruised face and blood dripping all over his nice
American clothes. Turns out one of the boys who was hiding at the castle in the
story was at the pub and didn’t appreciate the American’s views.‶
″Wait a minute, Mr. Finneran. Are you talking about the
same castle in your story?
″What if it is? The locals know better than to go where
they don’t belong. But sometimes some tourists like you pokes around where he
don’t belong. You’ve no plans to see our castle, boyo, do you?‶
His
eyes narrowed to slits and he placed a knurled hand, strong for a man half his
age, on my arm.
″Of course you won’t. You might want to hold your tongue
when your in another’s country. St. James teaches us that the tongue is the
rudder of the soul. Don’t be a disrespectful American. The other Yank met up
with some fairies in the middle of the night and that didn’t go well for him.
I’ll expect prompt payment from you tomorrow early. Oh, and son, watch your
back.‶
After Mr. Finneran left, I tried to process what he had
said, but the fatigue of the day was catching up with me and I headed for my
bunk.
I put my things away and collapsed into the bunk. As I
laid my head down on the pillow, I felt a sharp jab at the base of my skull. I
lifted my head and suddenly became aware of a large figure next to me.
He removed whatever had jabbed me in the back of my skull
and placed it under the pillow on the top bunk. As he did, he kept a muscular
hand on my throat. Even if I had tried to yell, he made sure that my throat had
neither the oxygen or available vocal cords to do so. Given my vulnerable position,
it was impossible to fight him off as he had me immobilized and held the
advantage.
He brought his mouth to my ear and I noted he was wearing
a black ski mask. I could hear his breathing and smell the beer on his breath.
When he was sure I wasn’t moving, he began to whisper in my ear.
″You should always make sure you are in the right bed. Otherwise
you could find something that is none of your business.″
I
had traveled through the North and I recognized that he had an Ulster accent.
″Your bunk should have been the top one, Yank, but that’s
no difference now. I happen to be passing by the kitchen when I heard the way
you addressed Mr. Finneran. He was trying to clue you in that Yank‵,s can disappear here. You don’t want to disappear, do ya Yank?“
I shook my head no with what little latitude of movement I
had.
″And I’ll thank you to treat Mr. Finneran with the
respect a man who has done so much for the cause deserves. You owe him an
apology. Mind your manners and you’ll enjoy being with your grandchildren
someday, eh?“
I nodded yes.
He released my throat and my head fell back on the
pillow. I was so grateful to be breathing and that my neck was not broken that
I barely noticed how sore my throat muscles were until I tried to move my head.
The next morning when I awoke I noticed there was no slump
in the bunk above me. As I cautiously worked my way out of my bunk and looked
around, I saw no trace of the large figure from the night before.
It was all so strange that it occurred to me briefly, as
I packed up my backpack, that perhaps it had all been a dream. The soreness of
my throat muscles told me otherwise.
I picked up my backpack and went downstairs.
Mr.
Finneran was sitting in the chair where he told his story the night before. His
panther gaze locked on me and he watched me carefully as I approached him.
″Mr Finneran, I’m sorry for the disrespectful way I spoke
to you last night. I’m nineteen and in college and think I know a lot more than
I do sometimes. I hope you will forgive my rudeness last night. I’m very sorry
for everything I said and for being disrespectful to you.“
His gaze grew softer and he answered.
″It
was nothing, son. But in the future, be more careful about what you say and who
you say it to. All is forgiven and today is a brand new day in God’s good
creation.‶
A gleam came to his eyes as he said this.
I was obviously not he only person whose opinions he had
changed over the years.
″I wish you could have been here to meet my grandson,‶ he
said.
″He looks like you, only a bit bigger I’d say. It’s ever
surprised me the way the Irish from America look like our boys here, but that’s
to be expected I guess.‶
″I hear told this morning that he was here but I did not
get to see him. His business keeps him on the move often.‶
″He spent part of his youth across the water. ‵Tis not
often I get a chance to talk with him, though Ireland being a small country
word always reaches me about how he’s doing. He took a liking to fairy fort stories
himself when he was a wee one, and he’s never tired of hearing about them since
that time.‶
As he said that, he winked at me mischievously.
″Well, I best be tending to the animals now. Say hello to
all the Irish in America for me when you return, and enjoy the rest of your
holiday.‶
After Mr. Finneran said this, he went across the kitchen
and exchanged a few words with a large man who was sitting there drinking
coffee and reading the local newspaper.
Although
the rest of the kitchen was crowded with tourists, this man’s table was empty but
for him. After Mr. Finneran finished talking to him and left, the man got up
from his table and walked over to me.
″Mr. Finneran tells me you’re an American. I hope you’re
having a good time in Ireland. ‵Tis terrible the way the Troubles have been
scaring visitors away these past few years. As you yourself can see, Ireland is
more peaceful than most countries. Safer than America, actually. Must be all
those fairy forts protecting our people, eh?‶
His eyes smiled, and I saw that same black liquid pool in
them that I had seen up close the night before. Although I may have been
risking my life to ask it, I had to know if he was the same person who had his
hand on my throat last night.
″How do you know I’m an American?‶
″What?″ He looked perplexed.
″You just indicated that I come from America. How do you
know that?‶
″Your sneakers. Only an American would wear those
sneakers.‶
A huge smile moved across the map of his face. It was the
smile of a man who knew when his lies were good enough to be defended if
challenged, the lie of a man who know how to tell a lie on demand.
″I’ve got to see some business associates. Hope you have
a fine stay. Remember to speak of us kindly in America.‶
He held out his beefy hand. I took it cautiously. He squeezed
my hand until he was sure I heard my cartilage crackle, let go, laughed, and
walked away.
I have never heard anyone else mention fairy forts since
that night in Glanmire, Ireland in the summer of 1975 when I met Mr. Finneran
and what may or may not have been his grandson. But if I ever again encounter
someone who believes in fairy forts as strongly as Mr. Finneran, I will
immediately agree with them that, yes, there are many things in this world that
are too unusual to understand, but that makes them no less real.
Even now, over 40 years later, whenever I see a tree in
the middle of a field, no matter how busy I am, I manage a prayer for the
American businessman, his sweet daughters and his beautiful wife.
Although once I used to think about it for days, I still
do not know if it was human or spirit hands that ended their lives so suddenly.
Not do I care anymore.
For I have learned to respect the inhabitants of fairy
forts and to pass them quickly, careful not to disturb whatever spirits, human
or fairy, that might live inside.
