By Larry Kane
In the early twentieth century an Irishman emigrates to America. An accomplished fiddle player, he soon finds success on the Vaudeville stage. After a few short years, he grows homesick and returns to the Emerald Isle for a brief visit with family and friends. Naturally, he brings his fiddle. After a few weeks he returns to America, minus his fiddle. He offers no explanation for the loss. The mystery regarding the missing instrument would last a century.
Background on The Great Blasket Island
The Irishman in question was born Maidhc Pheats Mhici O’Cathain on The Great Blasket Island, off the coast of Kerry. A formidable pinnacle of stone and grass, uneven hills and only one usable beach, the easily defensible Blasket has a history of its own. The islanders would stack large stones near the cliffs overlooking the sea. When “unwelcomes” would approach by boat, whether they be 11th century Vikings, or 19th century English “rent” collectors, the stones would be hurled toward the invaders by the island women with great success. The result was an isolated population of about 150 whose language and culture would remain uncorrupted for centuries.
The tyranny of John Bull had long attempted to eradicate the Irish language. The early 20th century saw an interest by many in reviving that culture. Thus, the island attracted all types sympathetic to the cause: authors, anthropologists, photographers, historians and other intrepid intellectuals. Characters like John Millington Synge, Robin Flower and Carl Marstrander took interest. Among these was a young beauty named Eveleen Nicholls, an educated linguist who sought a pure source of the Gaelic language. She learned of the Island, and made friends with some of the influential residents. Author Tomas O’ Criomhthain, and the “King”, Padraig an Ri O’Cathain, were befriended by Eveleen, and over the course of several summers there she learned the language. In exchange, Eveleen taught some of the younger islanders to swim in the waves of the lone beach.
“There will be no music on the Island now.”
Meanwhile, our young fiddler, who was the son of an Ri (the “King”), had passed through Ellis Island in 1902, anglicizing his name to Michael Patrick Keane. Taking the stage name “Mike the Fiddler”, he was an instant hit to the Irish expatriates in Springfield, Massachusetts, the adopted home of many of his fellow Kerrymen. Mike wrote home of his success, including details of how he was able to play his fiddle in one room, while people in many rooms in different homes were able to hear his music from out of a special box they owned. Upon reading of this, King an Ri remarked that surely his son had taken to the drink to believe such sorcery. Mike, of course, was describing early radio broadcasts.
Now having more than two dimes to rub together, Mike decided to make a trip back to the old Sod, probably to boast of his success in America. Arriving in Dingle, the nearest town to the Blasket, Mike settled into the Goat Street Pub to stay until he could make the mile-long choppy sea crossing in a naomhoga, a canoe-type rowboat. Inquiring about any news from the island, Mike learned of the tragedy that had occurred just weeks before: Eveleen Nicholls and Donal O’ Criomhthain, the son on Eveleen’s host, had drowned trying to save young Cait O’ Criomhthain, Donal’s sister, from the same fate. Mike’s own sister, Cait an Ri, witnessed the event. The deaths had devastated the area, and had made national news in Ireland. Mike, unaware due to his recent Atlantic passage, was stunned into silence. After a time, Mike placed his fiddle on the bar and asked the innkeeper to place it in safekeeping until Mike returned. When the barkeep asked why Mike simply not take the fiddle with him, Mike replied: “There will be no music on the Island now”.
For reasons unknown, Mike never returned to the Goat Street Pub. It has been suggested that Mike might have rung up quite the bar tab that evening, and left the fiddle behind as settlement of the bill.
Pictured – My Uncle, the writer of this article
A Century Later…
The Goat Street Pub eventually closed its doors. Over the ensuing decades it changed facades from time to time, eventually and ironically reopening recently as The Goat Street Café. A fiddler named Mark Crickard was tipping a pint there one day when he began to examine the décor, which had been drawn from items found in the cellar and attic of the ancient house. What he had discovered was an old, broken and abused fiddle that had been made in America, but in the early 19th century French-style, crafted from maple, spruce and rosewood, and with an ebony fingerboard. Even broken it was beautiful. Mark began making inquiries at the Blasket Centre regarding the fiddle’s origins. By coincidence, the Centre was working on an exhibit that recreated the famous kitchen of the King, an Ri, which had also been the home of the instrument’s owner, “Mike the Fiddler” Keane. Stories were traded, and the ownership was traced to Mike.
Solicitations for funds to restore the violin were made, and the instrument was repaired. In October of 2007, Mike’s fiddle was played again, this time in The Blasket Centre, in the shadow of the new exhibit depicting a humble Irish islander’s kitchen, in a ceremony that was very dear to Mike the Fiddler’s four grandchildren. They made the trip with their own children, Mike’s fourth generation of offspring. I know how wonderful that evening was because I was there. Mike the Fiddler was my grandfather. Although I never knew the man (he passed away before I was born) I felt that I have been touched by a very special part of him, and the sweet sound of his fiddle, lost all those years, was magical.
