HODGINS: FATHER AND SON

Paddy Williams

(taken from Cloughjordan Heritage Vol 6 with permission)

WILLIAM RALPH HODGINS
William Ralph Hodgins, born around 1822 in Cloughjordan, was the son of James and Mary Anne Hodgins. He had a brother, James, and two sisters, Maria and Ellen. His father James died in 1856 and his mother died in 1876. William married Georgina Smith in November 1855, and they had ten children: William Hammersley, Georgina, Charles, Lilly, Hubert, Richard, Sadlier, Tottenham, James and Arthur.

William Ralph Hodgins was the leading merchant in North Tipperary, carrying out business in Cloughjordan, Birr (Parsonstown), Borrisokane, Portumna and Nenagh. He dealt in manures, seed-corn, wool, butter and all kinds of provisions. He was also a banker providing credit to farmers and he introduced the Hodgins Penny which was a unit of currency around 1858.

He was also an extensive farmer and rented numerous holdings around Cloughjordan from Lord Dunally. He was a very stubborn tenant and appeared frequently in court at the Quarter Sessions contesting ejectment proceedings brought by Dunally and in turn claiming compensation from Dunally for improvements he had carried out on the various farms.

He was very active in local politics and he was guardian for the Cloughjordan electoral division for twenty one years. His residence in Cloughjordan was called Bank House (now occupied by Tony and Kathleen Deane).

William’s wife Georgina died in December 1875 and in 1877 the whole family emigrated to Kansas where he became an extensive cattle farmer. William still remained a tenant of Lord Dunally for some holdings around Cloughjordan. In July 1880 he died suddenly in Kansas.

Nenagh Guardian, December 8, 1871

WILLIAM HAMMERSLEY HODGINS
William Hammersley Hodgins, born in 1856, the eldest son of William Ralph Hodgins, returned to Ireland to look after the various leases his father had from Lord Dunally. William Hammersley became very active in the Land League and was a member of the Cloughjordan Branch. In June 1881 Dunally evicted him from a farm near the Railway Station. The eviction was carried out by a large force of fifty military (Red Coats) and fifty police.

James M. Wall, a journalist from Borrisokane, working with the Roscommon Herald was in jail for Land League activities in Kilmainham in 1881 along with Charles Stuart Parnell. When the Kilmainham prisoners were released in April 1882, James Wall travelled home by train to Cloughjordan where he was greeted as a hero by a vast crowd and several bands. He was led in a procession to Borrisokane by local Land League members William Hammersley Hodgins and Philip Reilly.

Through his Land League activities William Hammersley Hodgins became acquainted with Parnell and forged a very strong friendship with James Wall. The friendship continued when William returned to United States. James Wall emigrated to Americaand worked as a journalist in New York. He became a campaigner for President Roosevelt and later became a judge.

William Hammersley Hodgins, better known in New York as Bill or ‘Big’ Bill Hodgins, joined the New York Police Department in 1888. By 1900 he reached the rank of Sergeant and in 1903 he was promoted to Captain. His house in New York became the first port of call for emigrants from Cloughjordan and surrounding districts, and with his extensive contacts he helped many emigrants to find work. He was a staunch supporter of and a financial contributor to all Irish causes. Bill married Annie Guest from Fort Nesbitt, Borrisokane, and they had three sons and two daughters. Bill knew President Theodore Roosevelt from Roosevelt’s time as a Police Commissioner of New York (1895-1897). In 1905 when President Roosevelt visited New York Bill Hodgins was in charge of his security. In 1904 Bill Hodgins returned to Ireland on a visit along with his son and stayed in O’Meara’s Hotel in Nenagh. Later, under the new Land Purchases Act he was able to claim first right to purchase the land from which he had been evicted in 1881. He waived his right to purchase the land and received substantial compensation from the then tenant of the holding.

In 1907 newspaper reports stated that Bill Hodgins and another Irish policeman, William Prendergast, had made huge sums of money from buying land in  Long Island and selling it to the railroad company. In Bill’s case, $300,000 was the sum involved.

Also in 1907, Police Commissioner Bingham forced Bill and other policemen to take early retirement. He said that Bill was grossly overweight and was not able to perform his police duties. Bill fought the case in court, and in 1910 he won his case and was reinstated as a Captain. He was also awarded $1,000 compensation. He continued his police work until he died at his home at 165 East Tremont Avenue on 16th October 1912, after a brief illness. His old friend from the Land League days, James Wall, wrote the following tribute in the Nenagh News:

Captain “Bill” Hodgins Dead
ANOTHER STURDY TIPPERARYMAN PASSES AWAY IN NEW YORK. TOUCHING TRIBUTE FROM THE PEN OF J.M.WALL

The Press Club, New York, October 22nd 1912

To the Editor, “News and Vindicator”

Friend Power – It may come as a surprise, or something even in the nature of a shock, when I tell you that our old friend and fellow-countryman and fellow countyman“Bill” Hodgins is no more. At any rate, that’s how it affected me, and I haven’t gotten over it yet. He died at his home No. 165 East Tremont Avenue, one of the most delectable sections in this colossal centre of life which we call w:st="on">New York City, Wednesday evening, October 16th, and was buried Saturday, October 19th, in the beautiful Woodlawn Cemetery, five miles or so further north, or further “up town,” as is said here, but still within the city limits. We are engaged now, and during weeks past, in one of the most bitterly contested Presidential campaigns within living memory – three candidates Roosevelt, Taft and Wilson competing for the honour – and, as I have been busy in many cities far from home making speeches in advocacy of Roosevelt’s election, it looked at one time as though I would be deprived of the melancholy comfort of following the body our dead friend and comrade to the grave. But all these things came well in this regard, and I was able to be in the room of gloom, where his loyal and devoted wife and children had foregathered, the night he died. Brothers from distant Kansas, two thousands miles away, and a brother from Philadelphia, only a hundred miles away, arrived in time, but they were unable to converse with him, for the poor fellow was unconscious for several hours before his honest, patriotic heart gave its final beat and the last deep-drawn sigh showed that death, while as natural, continues nevertheless as mysterious as life. Dr. Alexander Lambert, one of the most noted specialists in the United States , who was summoned to Milwaukee after Roosevelt had been shot, held consultations with the attending physicians before poor Capt. Hodgins died, and held out no hope from the day he was stricken. So far as I could gather, endocarditis was the cause of death – an ailment merciless and treacherous once it lays hold. A brief talk with the family physician made me think he would put “general sepsis” in the death certificate, or “septicaemia,” which is blood poison. Not being a physician I have no technical knowledge of these matters, and the reason mention is made of them at all is that you, in common with all of us, will naturally wonder at the rather sudden death of this apparently vigorous man, only fifty-six years of age. He was but some three weeks confined to the house, and it was only a few days before his death that a correct diagnosis showed the gravity of the attack. Looking back over twenty-nine years since I quitted Ireland, I feel sad at being obliged to say “good-bye for ever” to so many sturdy sons of the dear old sod, who shook off Old World allegiance to fight the battle of life in the New in the early eighties. But of all of them who have gone out of life in recent years Captain Hodgins leaves one of the largest voids. The battle of life in America – in New York City especially – is hard: oh, so hard, that only those in the thick of it know what it means. Coming here without a friend or a backer – only his own inborn grit to rely upon – he won by years of honest effort and against mountainous obstacles a coveted position as Captain of Police, having filled with credit the various grades from patrolman up; and he died in harness, this Cloughjordan boy, without ever as much as one discreditable mark against his personal or official behaviour in that responsible and exacting office; and this, too, at a time when the police force on New York as a whole is a storm centre of adverse criticism, because of the devouring greed of a few of its members to get rich quick at any cost. Mrs. Hodgins, as you will recall, was Miss Annie Guest of Fort Nesbitt, just outside Borrisokane, an old and respected family, and a sister of Mrs. Charles Hodgins (Miss Emily Guest) who, with her husband, has recently purchased a house and settled down in Cloughjordan, after many years residence in New York. In fact, on both sides, their ties of relationship are found not alone, throughout Tipperary and adjoining counties, but in some counties of the North as well. Many and many a time, friend Power, have I heard Captain Hodgins – or, better, “Bill” Hodgins, as his old-time intimates always called him, and as he always himself preferred to be called – speak of you and recount little incidents of the great Parnell battle the mere memory of which used at times make us feel young again. Before coming to America at all, his acquaintance in the home land covered a wide radius, especially in the two Ormonds, which furnished a fund of interesting anecdotes concerning men and things. Though a Protestant by birth and inheritance, he shook off all narrowness, refused to abide by the bloody traditions in which the history of our country is enshrouded which are invoked by the few to thwart any enlargement of the liberties of the many, and stood forth boldly as an Irish Nationalist of the most advanced type. If for no other reason, I shall always remember with feelings of patriotic pride the brief but spirited career of this honest and large-hearted Tipperaryman. A residence in America tempers and mellows the most reactionary mind: so much so indeed that even those boneheads whom we call Orangemen would be instantly affected, if these subtle forces which create healthy change and which are continuously in operation in a free country could be made to do duty for a brief season in the vicinity of Belfast . It will come ultimately, I am certain, but there are many stormy years still ahead in Ireland before it does come. Meanwhile, we must do our little share, each in his own way, to hasten that blessed day.

Well do I recall the night, thirty years ago last April, when an immense throng with several bands, gathered at the railroad station of dear old Cloughjordan to greet me on my return for a six months’ imprisonment in Kilmainham; that gloomy pile of cold stone from which Robert Emmet walked forth to death and immortality one hundred and nine years ago. “Bill” Hodgins , big and hearty, was one of the most conspicuous among the crowd who welcomed me that memorable night; poor Phil Reilly (whom you remember) and who had been himself a victim of the old “Buckshot” Forster regime; and that earnest and tireless a citizen of Borrisokane, our old friend Pat Heenan (whom you also remember) and who, as the Nenagh News shows me from time to time is still on deck battling in the good cause and as full of fire and enthusiasm as when he was a boy. Shall I ever forget that night – the stirring strains from the bands, the drenching rain and the long march of the procession, headed by carriages, from the railroad station in Cloughjordan to my home in Borrisokane. And the inevitable meeting with which all such celebrations wound up, and the declaration by the local “bobbies” that my speech that night was as defiant and provocative as the speeches and editorials for which I had been originally arrested.

“Bill” Hodgins was everywhere that night, directing, encouraging, and cheering on every mother’s son in that big gathering. Many of his own co-religionists, fettered politically from days of childhood by an unnatural environment which it is the policy of England to foster, and which is fatal to the growth of liberal ideas, frowned upon what he did that night and would fain discredit him. But their enmity did not affect him in the least, for never has it been known that an Irish Protestant who ranged himself on the side of the people has ever been forgotten or the thought of his good deeds allowed to lapse.

Power, old boy, the years are advancing; the old-timers are fast dropping out; the light is deepening into shadow: the memory is getting dimmed; and soon the few survivors from Nenagh and Borrisokane and the Ormonds generally, whom we knew and worked with under that great Protestant leader Parnell, are disappearing so rapidly that in a very little while we will feel that we are all alone. My thoughts took that turn as I stood beside the grave in Woodlawn Cemetery on that beautiful autumn day, while the sun shone, and the leaves whirled, and the banks of clouds, every once in a while, cast fitful shadows athwart the grass. Not the face alone, but soon the enveloping casket, in which reposed the remains of our beloved comrade, and countryman, became invisible bit by bit, until at last not a vestige even of that was to be seen.

In solemn silence the undertaker’s men finished their work. Then the pile of costly floral mementoes, no two the same, and the most variable in design, the offerings of his large army of friends, were banked high upon the grave. Not an eye in that silent throng but what was moist, as the ushers beckoned to the mourners and their friends, who resumed their appointed places in the long string of carriages that stretched far away down the main driveway, each having taken a long farewell look at the spot which is the last abiding place of a patriotic Tipperaryman and loyal American citizen, Captain William Hammersley Hodgins, born in Cloughjordan fifty-six years ago.

I remain, friend Power, cordially and sincerely yours, J.M.WALL

(Taken from The Nenagh News and Tipperary Vindicator, November 2nd, 1912) Power, mentioned in this letter, is John F. Power - editor of The Nenagh News. The following are letters written by William Hammersley Hodgins and published in local papers:

An Evicted Tenant from Cloughjordan

To the Editor, “Nenagh News and Vindicator”

New York, August 22nd, 1907

DEAR SIR – Reading an article of recent issue in your paper claiming that “Big Bill” Hodgins of New York, together with William Prendergast, made some money in investments and real estate in and around Long Island City, and that the said Hodgins’ father lived on the Dunally estate around Cloughjordan. I believe I was the first tenant evicted in Ireland with the aid of the “Red Coats,” and I now intend to take advantage of the Evicted Tenants Laws and return with the proceeds of my labours in and around New York City , and spend the remainder of my days where I was born and raised and driven from by a tyrannical landlord. “Chickens come home to roost.” Although away from Ireland for many years, I have always fought her fights in America and will continue to do so until I return to my native heath. – Respectfully, WILLIAM H. HODGINS.

(Taken from The Nenagh News, September 7th, 1907)

TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIPPERARY ADVOCATE

Cloughjordan, Oct. 7.

DEAR SIR – Now that the question of the relation existing between landlord and tenant is placed so prominently before the public mind, I think it would not be inopportune on my part to call attention to the very unfair, unjust, and I might say, almost tyrannical manner in which my late father and myself have been treated by Lord Dunalley. I will endeavour as briefly as I can to place before your readers a full, fair and impartial statement of the facts of the case, and I will leave it to the public to judge whether I have just grievance to complain of, and whether I can fairly charge Lord Dunalley with harsh treatment. My late grandmother and father held a good deal of land from Lord Dunally, and on the death of the former the rents were to be raised to which my father objected. Lord Dunally then offered 700 l to get up the places, but sooner than give in he went to court which only awarded 284 l. Since my father’s death I in order to sell a small place had to give up possession of about 30 acres to get leave to do so. It was out of lease by his death, Lord Dunalley rented about fifty acres to a man named Grant for which he got £125 and 25s per acre and the crops he had off the other places have long since paid the paltry sum we get even though it was sworn that the land was run out. Now that the Land Bill is law I think Lord Dunally ought to look to the past and give fair play. Excuse trespassing on your valuable space – Yours truly,

W.H.HODGINS.

(Taken from The Tipperary Advocate, October 8th, 1881)

* The symbol l (libra), appearing in the letter above, represents £.

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