Sticking to motto - ‘Be Just and Fear Not’

I HAVE a confession to make, even though it is many years overdue, writes Tom Gillespie.

It was 24 years ago this week that the Cavendish Lane new offices of The Connaught Telegraph were officially opened by the then President of Ireland, Mary Robinson.

The ceremony took place on Holy Thursday, April 4, 1996, and regular readers of The Connaught will recall that we published a 96-page commemorative issue to mark the occasion.

It was compiled and edited by now editor Tom Kelly, and took months of detailed research to complete.

In the lead up to the big occasion preparations were gone over and over again and again, to ensure everything went smoothly on the afternoon.

And so they did, but for one small hiccup.

Being a provincial newspaper, the tools of the journalists in the newsroom were a notebook and biro when they covered markings. Computerisation had only recently been introduced but the old methods of news gathering still relied on the belief that ‘a bad pencil is better that a bad memory’.

As acting editor then, following the passing the previous December of editor Tom Courell, I was tasked with several important duties.

One was to order a batch of biros marking the then 176-year history of the newspaper.

I contacted an English supplier and gave them the necessary information that was required to be printed on said biros, and highlighting our motto - 'Be Just and Fear Not'.

The instructions over the phone were simple:

Connaught Telegraph

094-21711

'Be Just and Fear Not'

1828 -1996

Just days before the official opening the batch of pens arrived by post and were put aside for the opening day.

After they were distributed, one of our long serving staff members, Mary Kilcoyne, much to my dismay and that of all the other staff, pointed out that the inscription read 'Be Just and FAIR not'.

It was too late to get replacements so we were stuck with the ‘Fair Not’ scribblers.

Little did the guests realise that the commemorative biros they received were historical homophonic keepsakes - where pairs of words that sound the same but have distinctly different meanings and different spellings - were in their possession.

Totally unintentional, the biros, of which I still have one (pictured), may have been an embarrassment on that April day, but later we were to have a good laugh at the mix-up. Of course, I should have sought a proof!

My biro has long since ‘dried-up’ but I keep it as a memento of that occasion when we were honoured to have President Robinson unveil a plaque on the building.

We did get an invoice from the suppliers but despite my protestations over the miss-spelling, we had to cough up and pay them.

We operated out of that building for another 18 years after which the Celtic Media Group took over The Connaught, with headquarters now at Main Street in Castlebar.

The motto ‘Be Just and Fear Not’ still remains the mantra of The Connaught Telegraph, which was first published on St. Patrick’s Day, 1828, by Lord Frederick Cavendish.

The motto, from Shakespeare’s King Henry VIII, epitomises the journalistic policy of the newspaper for over 192 years. The tradition of integrity, fair play and an innate acceptance that there are two sides to every story has been the hallmark of dozens of newsmen and women who have trodden a path over the creaking floors of the old newsrooms and the polished surfaces of the modern day premises.

The commemorative issue of April 1996 is a wealth of historical information, chronicling events over the centuries.

One of the truly amazing ditties that appeared was how ‘Indian style smoke signals were set from Inishlyre’!

The article from March 11, 1971, read: The families on a gale-swept island two miles out in the Atlantic had only one way to communicate with the mainland - smoke signals. But from now on the five adults and 11 children on Inishlyre, off the Mayo coast, won’t have to light fires on the shore to ‘blanket’ their messages across the sea.

For they’ve just had a brand new telephone installed and it is rent-free for five years.

The islanders have no electricity, running water, church or shops. Last year (1970) their school closed when the teacher left and got married. Winter crossings are almost impossible, with gales up to 100 miles an hour often recorded in the area.

So now the government pays for the island’s six school-going children to live on the mainland while they attend classes.

Islander Thomas Gibbons, a 60-year-old father of six, said: "Up to now we have had to light fires on the shore during bad weather. White smoke means we are alright, but black smile means trouble, like someone is ill or we were short of food."

He added: "I have four children attending school on the mainland and they come home at weekends when the weather permits.

"But now if they’re feeling a bit homesick or have any problem, they can give us a ring."

The islanders, the article said, had been looking for a ‘phone service for 20 years. But it was only when English artist Elwyn Dunkerly went to live on the mainland across from the island that they finally succeeded in getting one.

Mr. Dunkerly said: "The islanders were told the cost of instilling a phone would be prohibitive. So I took up the matter with the post office authorities.

"They quoted me £95. I don’t think they thought I was really serious but I paid the money out of my own pocket immediately. Later I was reimbursed by relatives of the islanders."