John Kelly: An incorruptible Force Of One

                      

                                                                  The man: John Kelly

Where do you start when trying to measure police corruption in this country called Ireland? You could finish by looking a little harder at the former commissioner of that force, Martin Callinan, who appears to be in permanent denial on every public platform that there is anything wrong with the Gardai (Irish Police) and in permanent attack on anyone that wants to take a closer look. Many tribunals have tried, and in the main failed, at enacting change and the Gardai ombudsman have been rendered in most cases, toothless, by the general un-cooperation and unwillingness of the force to engage with them. This is not isolated but institutional.

Any Police force that all too often see themselves above the law rather than answerable to it is a frightening prospect indeed. The many tribunals have borne out this thinking: “ The relationship between some Gardai and priests and bishops was wholly inappropriate.”- Mahon Tribunal. 

“The tribunal has been staggered by the amount of indiscipline and insubordination it has found in the Garda force. There is a small, but disproportionately influential, core of mischief making members who will not obey orders, who will not follow procedures, who will not tell the truth and who have no respect for their officers.” - Morris Tribunal

There are many more instances of this institutional corruption, and if you dissent from within to expose the rottenness at the core, or are its victim, then you must possess the courage to enter a perfect storm to at least fight or be crushed. Even if you try to do the right thing at the most local and seemingly mundane level, you can find yourself even in a bigger vortex. This is what happened to Garda John Kelly.

It seems that 27 years on the force was not going to save him against being dismissed; not for bribery, or theft, nor embezzlement, but for just doing his job. He was expected to roll over but this man was a fighter in a fight that took him all the way to the Supreme Court that sprang from a minor incidence when he tried to get a pub to close long after even hardened drinkers were already in bed. Hell had no fury like the publican already convicted in court of the same offence not too long before, and John could not have imagined the firestorm that lay ahead for himself that could have been written literally in two different coloured pens, which was part of the ludicrous evidence used against him; a problem I have everyday if I could find a pen that even had ink in it.

Now that the battle is won by John Kelly and the smoke cleared, though the war not yet over, so far it has cost the taxpayers €450,000 in legal expenses alone thus far, and this good man has thankfully been completely exonerated and restored, after two and a half years, to his position as a Garda. Much else has also been exposed in this sorry saga of a force. It was never in my view just about John Kelly, this was about cronyism and the force of one mans courage against an unyielding tribal one. Drumshanbo in County Leitrim can rest easy again now that they know that there is truly an incorruptible force of one in their midst. Thank you John.

Barry Clifford

PS: John Kelly has since retired and his worse day in retirement has been better than his best day on the force.

Jesse Owens: from Alabama to Olympic glory

New movie Race tells his story of Jesse Owens, one of the most significant figures of the 20th century whose achievements went far beyond the sporting field

The life of Jesse Owens was no fairy tale. Born in 1913 in Oakville, Alabama, he was the youngest of 10 children and grandson of a slave.

Abraham Lincoln had emancipated the slaves half a century earlier, but his father was a sharecropper – a cog in a semi-feudal system whereby small tenant farmers paid their rent with a share of the crops they raised.

As a boy Owens was sickly, suffering from bronchitis and pneumonia, but he had to help out in the fields. By the age of six, he was picking up to 100lb a day of cotton during harvest time. With no money to pay a doctor, his mother once removed a growth from his chest with a knife. Yet already he loved to run.

Moving to the next level: Jesse Owens winning a race in 1933 

The break in the family’s fortunes came when Owens was nine. His family moved to Cleveland, Ohio, in search of a better life in the booming steel town. They were part of the Great Migration, in which 1.5 million blacks gravitated to the cities in search of industrial work. His father Henry and elder brothers got jobs in the steel mills while Jesse enrolled at Bolton Elementary School.

Owens was philosophical about his childhood. “We used to have a lot of fun. We never had any problems. We always ate. The fact that we didn’t have steak? Who had steak?”

His first contact with someone who grasped his extraordinary athletic potential came at Fairmount Junior High School in Cleveland. Charles Riley noticed the 15-year-old running in the playground and encouraged him to train before school. Owens combined his training schedule with jobs delivering groceries, loading freight cars and working in a shoe repair shop.

“I let my feet spend as little time on the ground as possible. From the air, fast down, and from the ground, fast up

”Jesse Owens

Owens also met his future wife, Minnie Ruth Solomon, then 13, in 1928 and they began dating. They married in 1935, having already had the first of their three daughters. They remained together until Owens died in 1980. She was always a staunch support, seeing the marriage as a partnership. She supported many charities, and chaired the foundation set up in his name.

Records continued to fall in sprint and jump events as Owens moved on to East Cleveland Technical High. Riley followed him there as assistant volunteer coach. Owens was taught to run as if the track were on fire, saying later: “I let my feet spend as little time on the ground as possible. From the air, fast down, and from the ground, fast up.”

Owens was inundated with university offers but opted for Ohio State University, where coach Larry Snyder became a new mentor. Though Ohio offered no track scholarships, Snyder was one of few US coaches who allowed black athletes to compete. To pay his fees, Owens grafted away as a lift operator, pumped gas, waited tables, and became an honorary page at the Ohio Statehouse.

Although he was the first black captain of Ohio State’s athletics team, he was not allowed to live on campus, eat at the same restaurants as white team-mates when travelling, or stay in white-designated hotels.

In 1935 he capped his record of collegiate victories by setting world records in three events (long jump, 220-yard sprint and 220-yard low hurdles) and matching a fourth (100-yard sprint) in just 45 minutes at the Big Ten athletics meeting in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Four gold medals were what he achieved at the Berlin Olympics a year later, the first televised Games. He won in the 100m and 200m sprint, the 4x100m sprint relay, and the long jump, for which he credited the friendly advice of German jumper Lutz Long. “I decided I wasn’t going to come down. I was going to fly. I was going to stay up in the air forever,” he recalled.

Irrespective of controversy over whether Hitler snubbed him or not, he had emphatically denied the Nazis the propaganda victory they sought for Aryan supremacy. Hitler was appalled, while Owens was, for a time, the most famous man in the world.  Yet there was no ambiguity about his reception when he went home. He had received no presidential congratulatory telegram, and there was no invitation waiting to shake the hand of President Franklin D Roosevelt at the White House.

When Owens was stripped of his amateur status soon after, he also lost out on lucrative sponsorship deals. He said; “After I came home from the 1936 Olympics with my four medals, it became increasingly apparent that everyone was going to slap me on the back, want to shake my hand or have me up to their suite. But nobody was going to offer me a job.”

In the years that followed, Owens took many different diverse jobs, from starting a dry-cleaning business to a government role as director of national fitness; from being an African-American personnel director at Ford to working as a training and running coach for the New York Mets.

Owens also worked in motivational speaking, international coaching and public relations. As the years went by, a steady stream of honours followed, culminating in 1976 with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest US civilian award. Owens died four years later of lung cancer in Tucson, Arizona. He was 66.

By Benedict White

Who really is policing the Irish police?????

Below are just a very small few random samples of what is going on in our police force:

2009

Murphy Report: The church authorities in collusion with the Police systematically covered up for paedophile priests and Bishops in Ireland for decades

2010. 

Garda John Burke (40) was jailed for 12 months after he was found guilty of attempting to pervert the course of justice by moving a Garda CCTV camera away from the assault scene.

2011
In August last year Sgt Martha McEnery (43) received a four-month suspended sentence after a Waterford Circuit Criminal Court jury convicted her of assaulting Anthony Holness (39) at New Street in Waterford on January 29th.

2011

A former Co Wexford garda has been jailed for three years for causing loss by corruption and deception to an insurance company. John Joe Synnott (55), of Camblin, New Ross, was found guilty at the April sitting of Wexford Circuit Criminal Court.

2011
A garda who accepted a €1,500 bribe for processing work permit applications for a Tandoori restaurant owner was handed a 12-month 'suspended' prison sentence yesterday.

2012

A FORMER garda who accepted a £500 bribe from a man whom he had arrested for drink driving has been given a three-year suspended sentence and merely fined by Judge Des Hogan.

2012

Claire Daly TD was stopped by Gardai for making an illegal right hand turn, a mistake to you and me, and breathalysed; the equipment did not register a reading. She was still arrested and handcuffed and taken to jail 300 metres away. When she objected to being handcuffed, she was told it was procedure. She was put in a cell and gave a urine sample. 

Upon being released, she was told by a female garda to come back when she was sober. She was found to be well below the drink driving limit. She believed though she was arrested by Gardai because she had complained about police corruption under parliament privilege a few weeks earlier. In the meantime and undaunted, the gardai are still pursuing her for the ‘illegal’ right hand turn.

2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016

This period has seen the Gardai go after their own; no, not the dishonest cops but the ‘honest’ ones. Whistle blowers unite for if they do not they will be blown away.....

Conclusion:

Anything or anybody is fair game in Irelands mercenary police force of ill fame. Make sure your tyre is not bald or your NCT is expired, and woe betide you if they find only you have lied. The above list has expanded somewhat since and the present state of affairs is about to get a whole lot worse. It is a force that is rotten to the core.......stay tuned for more is sure to follow!!!!

Photos Minute: http://iqisu.blogspot.ie

Martin Callinan's secret attempt to discredit whistleblower Maurice McCabe

Former Garda commissioner Martin Callinan met the then Public Accounts Committee (PAC) chairman John McGuinness in secret in 2014 to say that Sergeant Maurice McCabe was “not to be trusted”.

Martin Callinan

Mr Callinan and the Fianna Fáil TD had a secret 20-minute meeting ahead of the appearance of Sgt McCabe before the PAC at the height of the Garda crisis.

It has emerged that, at the meeting, which took place in the car park of Bewley’s Hotel on the Naas Road in Dublin on January 24, 2014, the commissioner sought directly to convince the PAC not to hear evidence from Sgt McCabe.

This was six days before Sgt McCabe finally did give testimony in private to the committee.

“Every effort was made by those within the Garda Síochána at senior level to discredit Garda Maurice McCabe,” Mr McGuinness told the Dáil during the debate on the O’Higgins commission report.

“The garda commissioner confided in me in a car park on the Naas Road that Garda McCabe was not to be trusted and there were serious issues about him.”

Mr McGuinness also revealed that he was told of “vile stories” about Sgt McCabe at the time which he said were “promoted” by senior Garda officers.

John McGuinness

It has been confirmed to the Irish Examiner that it was Mr Callinan who sought the meeting with Mr McGuinness.

Calls to the former commissioner for a response yesterday from the Irish Examiner went unanswered.

The meeting took place in the days before Sgt McCabe appeared before the committee to outline his knowledge of extensive abuse of the penalty points system.

The previous May, an internal Garda investigation had found there was only minor abuse, but this result has since been discredited.

Sgt McCabe approached Mr McGuinness with his concerns over the loss of public money in the abuse of the penalty points system in November 2013.

Maurice McCabe

Mr McGuinness determined that the PAC should hear from Sgt McCabe in a move that caused some unease in government and Garda circles. Mr Callinan, then the Garda Commissioner, voiced opposition to the hearing.

Six days after the secret meeting, on January 30, Sgt McCabe appeared before the committee behind closed doors for more than three hours. He was described by several committee members as a highly “credible witness”.

A week later, Mr Callinan appeared before the committee on the penalty points issue for nearly seven hours, during which he described the actions of Sgt McCabe and former Garda John Wilson as “disgusting”.

Speaking at Thursday’s debate about attitudes towards Sgt McCabe at the time, Mr McGuiness said: “The vile stories that circulated about Garda McCabe, which were promoted by senior officers in the Garda, were absolutely appalling. Because they attempted to discredit him, he had to bring forward various pieces of strong evidence to protect his integrity.”

Mr McGuinness went on to speak highly about Sgt McCabe’s bona fides and credibility in his dealings with him.

“In the workings of the Committee of Public Accounts over the past five years, one of the most impressive witnesses who came before us and the only witness who came before us in private session was Sgt Maurice McCabe,” said Mr McGuinness. “Everything he said was supported by documentary evidence.”

Sgt McCabe’s appearance before the PAC marked a turning point in the Garda crisis which ultimately led to the departure of Mr Callinan, the then justice minister Alan Shatter and his top official, Brian Purcell, later in 2014.

Last year’s Fennelly Commission report concluded that the visit by Mr Purcell to the home of Mr Callinan at the behest of Taoiseach Enda Kenny was the immediate catalyst for his retirement. However, the report also stated Mr Callinan decided to retire and that he could have decided otherwise.

Mr Kenny said it was correct that he sent Mr Purcell to Mr Callinan’s home to make it clear the grave concerns that the Taoiseach had.

Michael Clifford and Daniel O' Connell

The Quintessential American Hero — And His Son

                                                                Jimmy Stewart

We remember Jimmy Stewart as the amiable Hollywood icon who appeared in such classic movies as “Harvey” and “Vertigo,” “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” and “Anatomy of a Murder.”

Few Americans today know that Stewart was a bona fide hero who served in World War II. Even fewer know that Stewart would also, in time, endure the grief of all families who lose a child to war.

Like a lot of Americans in 1940, Stewart was certain that the country would soon be going to war with Nazi Germany.

Stewart was then an on-the-rise Hollywood star. But at heart he was still a kid from small-town Pennsylvania who had worked in his family’s hardware store.

Stewart’s father fought in World War I, and other relations had done battle for the Republic all the way back to the Revolution.

To Stewart, patriotism was a shared ideal. Even the wealthy and well-connected had the sacred duty to stand up and fight for their country.

So Stewart prepared for war. He logged more and more hours piloting his airplane. He hired a trainer to help him bulk up.

In March 1941 — nine months before Pearl Harbor — Stewart, who had just won an Oscar for “The Philadelphia Story,” was sworn into the Army ... as a private.

After the Pearl Harbor attack, the Air Force wanted Stewart to sell war bonds, contending that he was too old (mid-30s) and too famous to risk flying combat missions.

But he pushed and wrangled and charmed until — finally — he was sent to England and put in command of a squadron of B-24 Liberator bombers.

The B-24 was a fast but ungainly beast poorly suited to formation flying, and had the dubious reputation for breaking up during hard landings. Joe Kennedy Jr. died when his B-24 exploded during a test flight. Louis “Unbroken” Zamperini’s B-24 malfunctioned and crashed in the Pacific.

Stewart piloted these death traps over Germany and Occupied Europe — braving flak bursts and fighter attacks — more than 20 times.

And even though aircrews were suffering the highest casualty rates of all American combat units, Stewart found a loophole that allowed him to fly more missions than Air Force regulations allowed.

By the time the war in Europe was over, James Stewart had been promoted from private to colonel.

His leadership and courage under fire earned him the Distinguished Flying Cross. His devotion to his men earned their lifelong admiration. And no pilot wore his cap any better.

But — as it did to so many young American men and women — the war changed Stewart.

He had no illusions about the barbaric reality of “strategic bombing.” Many times he had experienced the terrors unique to aerial combat. He had premonitions of his own death. And he carried the emotional burden of those who survived when so many others did not.

Stewart drifted back to Los Angeles, but he was restless and uncertain. Somehow in his absence the Golden Age of Hollywood had slipped away. He wasn’t sure he could even be an actor anymore.

One day, director Frank Capra called up Stewart and pitched him a movie idea. Before the war, they had collaborated on two big hits — “You Can’t Take It With You” and “Mr. Smith Goes To Washington.”

Legend has it that Capra’s pitch did not go well. The idea was convoluted — the whole thing seemed to be told in flashback. There were fantasy elements. And its tone was all over the place - serious one moment, funny the next.

With Stewart’s interest slipping, Capra tried a different approach. He too had served — producing the “Why We Fight” documentary series to promote the war effort. Capra was well aware of the darkness brooding within returning veterans. Perhaps he sensed it in Stewart.

So Capra said, “You’d be playing a guy who’s very depressed, and you decide to kill yourself on Christmas Eve.”

Stewart needed no more persuading. He was in.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” was the first movie Stewart made after the war and, to the end of his life, it was his favorite.

Stewart’s career blossomed. He went on to make dozens and dozens of movies and television shows, including brilliant collaborations with directors Alfred Hitchcock and Anthony Mann.

But for all his many and varied roles, Stewart declined to make big studio war pictures. (He appeared in only one — an obscure, genre-defying anti-war film called “The Mountain Road”.)

His contracts always forbade the studios from using his wartime service to publicize his movies.

When interviewed for the seminal 1970s documentary series “The World at War,” he was identified as “Squadron Commander James Stewart” and spoke only of the bombing campaign.

Even with the demands and distractions of movie stardom, Stewart remained committed to his patriotic service. He stayed on in the Reserve, and even tagged along on a combat mission or two over Vietnam.

He retired from the Air Force in 1968 with the rank of general. But history was not done with James Stewart.

After graduating from college in the mid-1960s, Stewart’s adopted son Ronald McLean joined the Marines. His parents were thrilled — as demonstrated in a photograph of Stewart, beaming with pride, pinning Lieutenant’s bars to Ronald’s uniform.

In June, 1969, Lieutenant McLean took charge of a recon unit in Central Vietnam.

It was a year after the Tet Offensive had exploded across American TV screens; a year before President Nixon’s Cambodian “incursion” expanded the conflict.

Change was all around in the summer of 1969. It was the season of “Easy Rider,” the Miracle Mets, and the Apollo moon landing. But in Vietnam, the war continued to grind on as it had for five years already.

Lt. McLean’s recon squad was inserted by helicopter into the jungles of the DMZ. Right away the patrol hit trouble when it found itself surrounded by a much larger force of North Vietnamese soldiers.

The patrol’s request for extraction was denied — hardly an uncommon response by American commanders in Vietnam who so often seemed determined to refight the Alamo.

In his war memoir “Dispatches,” Michael Herr described the prevailing mindset: “The belief that one Marine was better than 10 (Vietnamese) saw Marine squads fed in against known NVA platoons, platoons against companies, and on and on, until whole battalions found themselves pinned down and cut off. That belief was undying, but the grunt was not.”

For two days Lt. McLean’s six-man squad — a couple of them still teenagers — fought point-blank against the enemy.

While the firefight raged around him, Lt. McLean broke cover to help one of his wounded men. He was shot in the chest by a sniper and died beside the jungle trail.

Eventually an American relief force broke through to the recon patrol and the NVA troops fled. Lt. McLean was the only American soldier killed. It had been his first patrol; his squad-mates barely knew him.

The death of Ronald McLean devastated his family. But if James Stewart was angered or embittered by the loss of his son, he never showed it publicly.

With dignity almost inconceivable with today’s emotionally-vampiric media, Stewart bore his grief as he seemed to do everything — with humility, grace, and quiet strength.

James Stewart died in 1997. His memorial was attended by thousands of admirers, and he was mourned by millions more who remembered him as — for a time, anyway — the quintessential American hero.

He was buried beside Gloria, his beloved wife of 45 years. Close by is the modest grave marker of their cherished son, Ronald — a stoic reminder that fame and fortune are no guarantee against sorrow and tragedy.

Ronald Walsh McLean was posthumously awarded the Silver Star for his courage during the fated patrol. His name is etched on Panel 23 West, Row 113, of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C.

By Michael Colliery

Photos Minute: Lunar Landscapes of Arizona, Utah and New Mexico