My home region of Tullylish in Co Down, spanning across the winding path of the river Bann from Banbridge to Portadown, is marked with the scars of neglect and abandonment. The slow-moving, narrow river that once churned the machinery of numerous linen mills, providing employment to thousands in the industry’s prime, is now a quiet reminder of the past. It’s tough to comprehend that the peaceful hamlets and rural settlements that comprise this parish once were marred by the ugly face of religious and political unrest.
In my work, Dirty Linen, I narrate the tale of the Troubles in Tullylish, a location at the centre of both the Linen Triangle and the Murder Triangle. This was a place where loyalists and security forces conspired to murder Catholic civilians while republicans unleashed a war indiscriminately, with both Catholic and Protestant casualties in its aftermath.
Gilford, a former mill town minus the mill, is a mere echo of its former self. The bricked-up display windows on Mill Street don’t promise imminent renovation, rather they present faded reminders of a thriving industrial past. The abandoned mill structure, standing stark at six-storeys tall, is now devoid of life. Pheasant Lodge, once the Central Bar, was the site of a fatal no-warning INLA bomb that claimed the lives of three Protestant civilians on New Year’s Eve, 1975.
Bleary is home to a lane with a thick strip of overgrown grass running down its centre, leading up to an almost hidden gate which opens up to a field, not unused but somehow overlooked. A domicile that once stood here was hastily forsaken after its tenant fled south post his release from internment. In 1972, this was the site of an IRA ambush that took the lives of three soldiers.
There are a couple of solitary benches perched by Kernan Lough. This was once the fishing spot of Joe Toman, a carpenter who shaped his own boat, and where Jimmy Feeney also retreated to find peace in fishing. Having won the All-Ireland senior boxing championship in the National Stadium in 1975, Jimmy experienced the horror of UVF gunmen assassinating his father, John Michael, and Joe at Bleary Darts Club, housed in an ancient weaver’s cottage. Jimmy took his life in 2007. Today, only grass carpets the spot where the clubhouse once stood. This was the gruesome theatre of our local disputes.
Noel O’Dowd’s haunting gaze scans the remains of his family’s country home, that was once vibrant in Ballydougan. It was here his siblings Barry, Declan, and his uncle Joe, met with their horrific end at the hands of loyalists in January 1976. The farmhouse remains as abandoned since the tragic summer, as the fear of the murderers coming back kept his mum away. Only a short distance from this home of tragedy, a tribute stands tall in the graveyard of Clare chapel, set up by Eamon Cairns in memory of his children Rory and Gerard, who were slain within their own home in the year 1993.
Outside Gilford, a picturesque foliage of tree leaves overlays the busy road. Where in 1975, a minibus full of women and senior citizens, heading home after playing bingo, became victims of ambush, which resulted in immediate death of one, and later claimed two more from injuries. Despite being of Catholic faith, the ballistics report points towards an IRA assault.
A significant Orange arch, marking my birthplace, Banbridge, appropriates what should be a communal public area. Nearby, a clock ticking the passage of time takes a prominent place above a jewellery shop. It was here where, in 1982, an unexpected IRA bombing took the life of a young Protestant schoolboy, Alan McCrum, and left many in the condition of disability.
The lane leading to Hayes’s mill in Seapatrick is lined with metal depictions of labourers. All that remains is a redbrick facade, with a ghost sign that seems to reject any king. Lying opposite, is a residential community which hosts a mural giving the appearance of a shrine, honouring the UVF, the force responsible for the death of a score of local Catholics.
Donaghcloney’s mill, nestled beside the Lagan river and once known for providing high-quality linen for affluent clients such as Concorde and Titanic, now stands with one rigid wall, reinforced by beams. The rest has been razed to ground. The warning sign reads “Keep Out! Dangerous Building”. In 1989, this was the very place where a Catholic night-watchman, and my neighbour, Pat Feeney, was also murdered by UVF; the act, an inside job. An ominous grafitti in lavatories reading: UVF 2 Feeneys 0, made a brutal reference to the death of his cousin, John Michael.
“Dirty Linen: The Troubles in My Home Place” (Published by Merrion Press) is now available in paperback. It’s a tribute in honour of my mother, Marie Doyle (Born 04/08/1940 – Died 05/08/2024), the motivating spirit behind it.