TD 1
prize-fighter opponent, Tom Oliver, in Crawley Do
wns, England. After a gruelling 72-minute-long fight to the finish, Donnelly emerged victorious, claiming his £210 prize in front of some 10,000 people. A lack of adequate preliminary training made for a lessthan-impressive display this time around, however. Donnelly enjoyed the vivacity of London society before returning to Ireland in August 1819, staging sparring exhibitions at the Donnybrook Fair to help pay off his accumulated debts. His untimely death arrived some months later, in February 1820. He died at the age of 31 following a sudden illness brought about by his lifestyle. Donnelly had spent pockets of his life in between prize fighting as a publican. His business ventures never managed to reach any lasting success, however, as Donnelly was often fond of a drink himself. Throughout his lifetime, Donnelly owned four pubs around Dublin, only one of which still survives today: John Fallon’s ‘The Capstan Bar’ in The Liberties. One Arm out of the Grave Donnelly died in 1820, a time when graverobbing was rife and profitable. His body was subjected to a less-than-peaceful rest, located in Bulley’s Acre in the grounds of the Royal Hospital in Kilmainham. In the dead of a freezing night, with the graveyard coated in frost and the bodies frozen beneath the earth, opportunistic graverobbers dug up Donnelly’s body in hopes of turning a quick profit from a prominent local surgeon named Hall. Hall received threats from Donnelly’s followers that he, too, would end up buried six feet under if he didn’t return the prize-fighter’s body to its rightful resting place. Fearing for his life, Hall gave in to their demands, but not before he used a hacksaw to cut Donnelly’s right arm off. At this pivotal moment of separation, a posthumous, cross-continental journey began that, over the next two centuries, would see Donnelly’s arm become a gory circus attraction, a long-forgotten attic relic, and a mystical, invaluable artefact. Hall first transported the arm to Edinburgh University, either because of a prior arrangement with the medicine department or for fear of the repercussions he would face if he was found in possession of the limb. The arm remained there for many years, suspected to have been used for anatomical research and artistic case studies. The arm then journeyed around England as part of a Victorian travelling circus, exhibited as a prop in a peep show. By 1953, Donnelly’s arm found its way back to the same place where it had delivered its’ decisive blows almost 150 years prior. The arm became the prized possession of Jim Byrne, who owned the ‘The Hideout Pub’ in Kilcullen, Co. Kildare, the nearest pub to Donnelly’s Hollow. The relic remained on display there in a glass case for almost 50 years before disappearing to an attic overnight after the pub was sold and changed owners. Presently, the Byrne family remains in possession of Donnelly’s arm and, since 1997, has stored it away from public view to ensure its security. However, the arm has been dis20 played at various exhibitions over the years, including an exhibition of Irish boxing in the Irish Arts Centre in Manhattan, New York, in 2006. The Man, The Myth Donnelly’s personification as a symbolic figure began to emerge while he was still alive. With the failed 1798 rebellion fresh in Irish minds, Donnelly’s winning streak and his subsequent persona became a cause to rally behind. Irish national identity, then only in its infancy, was ignited with brazen confidence in the wake of his victories. Thus emerges the point in his biography where reality and mythology become interchangeably linked. Over two centuries after his death, Donnelly remains the subject of many urban legends. One contends that he had the longest arms in boxing history, with the ability to touch his knees without bending down. Another claims that, during his time in London, Donnelly was knighted by the Prince Regent. This rumour was started by Donnelly himself, who took great pride in decorating himself with the title of ‘Sir Dan’ from then on. Commemorations of Donnelly’s character appear in numerous ballads and folktales. Although he never came up against the most renowned boxers at the time of his career, he is nevertheless lauded for vindicating his country’s honour by defeating his English opponents. Arguably, it wasn’t the stakes of the match that mattered most, but instead what Donnelly’s undefeated streak represented for the Irishmen cheering him on. Dublin 8 has a consistent, long-standing practice of poetry and folklore, breathing life into the locality’s past historical figures, allowing us to understand what their symbolic cultural value meant to past generations, and what this can mean for us today. Dan Donnelly – as both fighter and folk character – is no exception to this cultural phenomenon. His journey from prize-fighter to publican to urban legend feels inextricably tied to how stories become a foundational and pivotal part of a locality’s cultural fabric, specifically in this part of Dublin. His story is one that should not be recounted chronologically, but rather through collective folk memory that is told through song, storytelling and spoken word. In this way, we can presently comprehend Donnelly’s cultural significance to generations gone by, and offer up our contemporary reflections on his legacy. The Showcase: In the Ring During their weekend events, Culture Date with Dublin 8 wants to honour the key part Dan Donnelly played in the Dublin 8 community as a proprietor of Fallon’s Pub, as well as his wider legacy as a legendary, larger-than-life Irish figurehead. The Saturday night event is an in-ring cultural gathering, taking place in the National Stadium, and hosted by historian Donal Fallon. The cultural gathering will mix conversation with live performance, featuring music, spoken word and theatrical responses to Donnelly’s life and afterlife. Contributors are set to include Damien Camilla Hanney Guinness Choir Duc Van Pham