In the 1980s, the front of Parsons footwear shop in Castlebar was a favourite meeting place for lunchtime liaisons. Being some equidistance between St. Joseph’s Convent of Mercy and St. Gerald’s De La Salle College, you could depart Parsons at 1.50 pm. and be in Peter Filan’s History class bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by 2.00 pm.
The junction at Parsons where Castle St., Ellison St. and Main/Market St. converge is undoubtedly among the most historic locations in Castlebar. Re-constructing the history of this intersection is, however, no easy task. Ellison St. was not Ellison St. until the early 1830s, Main St. is interchangeable with Market St., and Castle St. is often referred to as Castle Lane.
Knowing the detailed history of a specific location allows one to stand at that location and conjure up an image of what it was like at a particular moment in time. The imagining is more difficult where the architecture has changed, or structures have been removed or replaced. In the 1990s, the entrance to Castle St. was widened to better facilitate traffic movements. Part of the structure on the Ellison St. side was removed, leaving a wider footpath. If today you stand on this footpath at the gable of Eddie Egan Jewellers, you are standing on what was the footprint of the Ellison St. Prison. The building ceased to be the county prison in 1788 and was demolished in the nineteenth century. The prison was at the lower level of a two-story structure. Upstairs, a courthouse and debtors marshalsea opened out onto Ellison St. The prison could be entered via a stair from the courthouse or through a door on Castle St., likely to the side or back of what is now Egans.
If you stand in this place today and turn the clock back to Monday evening, 22 January 1781, you will find yourself inside the prison. You can choose between the only cell or a separate area where meals are prepared and eaten at a table. There are two fireplaces, one in the cell and one in the cooking area. As it is January, turf fires are burning. There are no windows – a tallow candle and the firelight illuminate the space. When the candle fizzles out, and the fires die, you are left in complete darkness. There is no running water or sanitary facilities, so a pervasive stench hangs in the air, dulled only by the smoke from the fires. Prisoners chained or neck-yoked listen for the rats scurrying in the darkness, searching for lost crumbs from the daily bread ration. Prisoners tear at their skin to get relief from the fever carrying lice that infest their clothes and person. The flesh of prisoners, too ill or delirious to defend themselves, is gnawed by the vermin when the darkness descends.
Now that the scene is set, it is time to meet some of those skulking in the shadows. The gaoler, William Kelly, has left for the night. The doors are, apparently, securely locked. There were at least five prisoners in the cell that night. All were held on remand awaiting trial at the spring assizes. Four of the five were charged with capital offences. Hangings on Gallows Hill or elsewhere would follow convictions. Thomas Morrison (23 ), a black-haired individual with a pockmarked complexion, was charged with stealing a cow. Blacksmith Patrick Bourke, a well-built man wearing a brown coat and waistcoat, stood accused of the murder of Pat Burk of Cong. Thady Reilly (40 ) was charged with stealing a ‘fat weather’, the property of Edmund Kirwan of Turin. Patrick Roach (30 ) was charged with burglary and felony. John Fox (45 ), reported to have been hard of hearing, was charged with stealing hazel rods.
During the night, the men escaped. While the detail of the escape is lost, the men likely offered a bribe to someone – doors were left open, or keys borrowed from William Kelly by associates on the outside. The fate of the escapees is unknown, though they probably fled to Erris, the Partry mountains, Nephin or the ports. Sheriff Thomas Ormsby offered a reward – ten guineas for Bourke: five guineas each for the others.
