Family McKenna

My late mother was born Olive Agnes McKenna, and I grew up surrounded by McKenna Grandparents, Uncles and Cousins so naturally I became interested in the McKenna Clan, given that over the years I’d learned one particular truth: if a McKenna was your friend, he or she would be your best friend in the whole world, but make an enemy of a McKenna and you could very well find yourself waking up in the Intensive Care Unit wondering how the hell you got there!

My mother’s a case point.  My brother and I gave her money at different times during the week, because she was always running out of money.  We had not a clue what she was spending it on.  On her way into town she would give the bus driver a mint along with her fare, at the Co-op check out she gave the girl on the till a mint.  Each day she attended Mass at St. Patrick’s church in Oldham and after Mass sometimes led the rosary.  On the day of her funeral an elderly man approached me and reminded me that she attended daily Mass and led the rosary, he then said that when he happened to mention that his pension was not enough to cover his heating bill, she gave him the money to pay it.  That solved the mystery of what she was doing with her money.  On another occasion she was with the family doctor and another man from St. Michael’s church collecting signatures for a pro-life petition.  They were approached by a group of pro-abortion women ranting and raving, one of them wearing a sticker on her lapel reading ‘Kill Kill Kill’.  The McKenna blood kicked in and my mother grabbed hold of the woman, ripped the sticker from her lapel and tried thrusting it into her mouth while shouting, “Eat your words, eat your words!”  The shocked pro-abortionists ran off and people began to queue to sign the petition.

During World War I (that’s one not two), my grandfather was a stretcher bearer on the front lines.  While he was away at war, my grandmother received a dreaded telegram that said granddad was missing believed killed. She should have known better, granddad was a McKenna.  After grieving for him the war came to an end and shortly after there was a knock on the door, my grandmother went to answer it screamed and fell to the floor in a dead faint!  The family rushed to see what the fuss was about and there on the doorstep was my grandfather.  He had been captured and taken prisoner of war, then released at the end of the war.

Likewise my uncles survived World War II (yep two), the Germans didn’t survive Uncle Jim who stopped a German tank by ramming it with a tram. The Japanese had a difficult time with my Uncle Bill, a Chindit operating behind enemy lines in Burma. My Uncle Len was among the British soldiers that relieved Bergen Belsen.  Jim, by the way went through the whole war from beginning to end, yet survived.

I naturally became curious about the McKenna Clan, so I did a little research.  My first surprise was to discover that the Clan (with different Irish spellings), originates from Truagh, Co. Monaghan and were known as the Lords of Truagh, or the ruling family of the Barony.  The McKenna’s were described as swordsmen, or Celtic warriors while the head of the Clan would be referred to as a ‘king’.  Well that explains a lot.

Obviously a lot of water has passed under the bridge since the middle ages when in 1436 Neill Mac Owen O’Neill was slain in his own house by the clan MacKenna of Truagh. He must have really pissed off the McKenna Clan! Given this history I’m inclined to believe that certain tendencies to respond to violence with greater violence, is genetically inherited.

On the other side of the coin is McKenna Castle (or Ardo House, Ardmore, Co. Waterford which is rich in history).  Yes, you read that right CASTLE as in a big building made of stone. McKenna Castle was known throughout Europe for its parties, attracting Lords, Ladies, socialites and celebrities from every corner of Europe and was the first building in the whole of Ireland to have electric lighting.

The tenure of the McKennas seemed to have initiated a period of refurbishment and prosperity at Ardo.  Frances Curry talks in 1895 "of the scrupulously white washed walls, gleaming brilliantly in the sun".  In fact, those years from the 1860's to the 1920's seem to have been the heyday of Ardo House.  The photographs of the early 20th century show a delightful family home, well looked after as were the splendid out-offices of the adjoining farm.  It exuded an air of prosperity and contentment.
The late Deug Connell (later to become owner of the place) spoke of a big ball given in Ardo (probably in the early part of the century) when the whole avenue beginning at the approach near his house, was lighted up with lanterns.  That must have been the same one of which Mrs Pollock spoke, her daughter, Mrs Dowson told of her father and mother bringing up cold sweets (refrigeration would have been a problem in those days), dancing all night and walking home at dawn.  Mrs Dowson also spoke of going on one occasion with her father to visit Sir Joseph who was sitting up in bed wearing his tall hat.  He died on 15th August 1906.  He had re-married and the second Lady McKenna died in July 1907.  Both were buried in a vault in an adjoining field with a large stone angel on guard.  Now the place is covered with briars.  The lady had been noted for her dedication to the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and the family was always resentful of the fact that this society got most of the McKenna money and the place was not viable.
Sir Joseph McKenna had ten children six girls and four boys from his first marriage.  One of his daughters married a grandson of Daniel O'Connell.  Another daughter Magdalen Mary aged 13 is buried in the Ardmore graveyard, as also is Kathleen Elizabeth McKenna wife of Joseph (who inherited the place) in 1918. Members of the family lived there for some years before going to England, Madeline who later became Mrs Collis was one of them.
For a period in 1920-21 it was let during the summer to the committee of Coláiste Deuglán, so her father Joseph McKenna had vacated the house by then.  There was no caretaker and the place was looted, eventually sold and deprived of its roof, so the final period of its desolation began.

  

So, my family are a fun lot when you are friendly with them but bloody downright dangerous if you’re not.


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