Part 1. - Hurley
Part 2. - O'Sullivan

Part 1

The Hurleys of Lisheens, Kealkill
Intermarried with O'Leary, Barrett, Collins.

Lisheens Townland, Kealkill, on the eastern rim of the Bantry Township, West Cork.
("Lisheens" is an Anglicization of the Irish word for stone circle.)

Over several generation, this farm was the home of the Hurley family of Lisheens,
situated on the hill above Kilmocomogue Graveyard and Lady's Well.
(See my diary for more details: Filming Celtic Women in Music (2000).

Our maternal grandparents were Jeremiah and Bridget Hurley (nee Barrett):
John, (b. 1919), an engineer, settled in East Cork, father of six children.
Mary Bridget (b. 1921), a nurse, gave up nursing when she married, as was required by law in those days. Mary brought seven children into the world, and returned to nursing when they were adults.
Gerald (b. 1923), suffered polio and never married.
Denis (b. 1924), inherited the family farm. When our father bought the farm, Denis moved to Oakland, California, became a landscape gardener, and married in his 40s - no children.

Our grandmother, Bridget Hurley (Ni Barrett, former nurse), and grand aunt, Jane Barrett (retired dietitian), lived on the Lisheens farm with us.
Behind the farm, on the southern hill, an ancient Ringfort gives expansive panoramic views of the countryside, all the way to Bantry Bay.
Lisheens is quite a climb via back roads - convenient for my mother's family during The Troubles, which traumatised all who lived along the main road - especially along the main low roads, bordering my father's family farm at Lackareagh.

In 1954, the Lisheens farm was sold to Cornelius "Con" and Ellen "Nell" McSweeney,
and we moved down the hill to Pearsons Bridge.

Part 2
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O'Sullivans (O'Suilleabhain Mor) of Lackareagh, Kealkill
- intermarried with Keohane and Costigan.

Our father, John Francis (Jack) O'Sullivan (4 April 1909 - 20 August, 1978) was born and raised on the family farm at Lackareagh, Kealkill - still in the family. Our father's parents were Denis O'Sullivan and Margaret Mary Keohane. His O'Sullivan grandparents were Timothy O'Sullivan and Mary Costigan. His mother, Margaret Mary Keohane died in 1932, age 32, following long-term "pneumonia complications". Very sadly, our father recalled the War of Independence (1919-1921), when his family were 'kicked out' of their house by "Black-n-Tan" soldiers in the middle of winter: 5 of 11 siblings died as a consequence of "Spanish Flu" and Jack was sent at age eleven to train as a groom in Bantry In 1928, age 19, he dropped the O' when he went to the USA to train with legendary steeplechase horse trainer Mickey Walsh (1906-1993), from Kildorrery, Co. Cork. After The Great Depression, Jack traveled across the USA, as a steeplechase horse trainer, eventually settling in California, where he trained horses for 'the stars' - including Fred Astaire, Pat Boone, Bing Crosby, and many more. He was a wonderful "Irish tenor" - a "crooner" and a dancer, and he was a sharpshooter. I once saw him shoot a deer with a rifle while horesback riding at a gallop in Northern California. Our grandfather died on the farm in January 1959, age 88. My mother sent me to keep him company after school periodically, when he was confined to the bed. I remember my grandfather's wake, at the farm, and long funeral march into Bantry - standing around the grave and fighting back tears when they lowered him into the grave. He was always so kind to me. I still have 2 pennies he gave to me - one English and one Irish. I can't remember what he said exactly about them, but I know it was about "the Troubles"- representing victory over the English - as "before" and "after" evidence.

- Jack F. Sullivan, USA, 1940s


- Jack Sullivan with family: New York 1940s

- John Francis Sullivan, Equestrian trainer, Lisheens farm, 1953

Pearsons Bridge - over the Ouvane River.

The house that Jack built!
In 1954, we moved down the hill from Lisheens farm to Pearsons Bridge.

While building our home on the edge of the Ouvane River at Pearsons Bridge, (including making the concrete bricks), our father also led the effort to bring electricity to the region.
As a local man said to my sister Carmel many years later: "He was a man! He was more than a man."
But he was not happy with Irish politics:
"Too little for too many. Too much for too few." - John F. Sullivan
Two years after we were settled at Pearsons Bridge, in 1957, our father returned to the USA:
Two years later, we followed him to San Franscisco, on 22 November 1959.

Childhood memories remain close to the foreground of our minds.
My visions of the landscape where I grew up are vivid:
Playing on the Ouvane River at Pearsons Bridge;
Daily adventures on our journey to Kealkill National School, two miles away.

Friends and cousins were spread out but we always felt close to them.
I rode my bike to piano lessons in Bantry every Saturday, so that is deeply etched in my memory.
The brain goes through a major growth spurt at that age and when something traumatic happens, the memory stays with you. We know many people who have said that they went through dramatic changes in their lives at that age and they have all agreed that those memories remain vivid - along with a ripe sense of humour - wisely choosing to be serious without being somber.

Sullivan siblings, in front of the Keane family's home, 1958, Pearsons Bridge
Maireid, John, Jerry, Noreen, Carmel, Daniel - and baby Viva crawling away.


Taken on the day of Noreen's First Commune:
Dresses made by our mother (mine was red).
Aunty Jane knitted Daniel's jumper (cat on fence / flower pots).

[John and Jerry couldn't keep still for this photo]

Living in San Francisco
Noreen, Viva, Carmel, 1960, Eureka Street, San Francisco

Viva and Dan: "First communion" 1963

Melbourne

---

The Sweep of Time
1997, Maireid Sullivan

Do we care what our ancestors thought?
Do we know that we are part of the sweep of time?
Do we know that we are responsible
for the follow through?
Have we traveled the vast horizon?
Are we following the sun?
Is the sun a metaphor for wisdom?
Is wisdom a metaphor for the brain?
Or is the brain an augury of spirit,
a transmitter and a receiver of thought waves.
And we get to choose our own means of transit,
our own thoughts,
slipstreaming behind super hero 'mediators'
for just the hardest parts of the journey.