The Black Donnelly's: a dark story that looms over London's past has started to fade away from memory. The Donnelly Homestead, the historic site which was create to present and preserve the history of Donnelly murders, closed it's doors to the public in 2018. This year, 2020, marks the 139th anniversary of the tragedy. And given the time of year with a cosmically perfect Hallowe'en around the corner - on a Saturday and on a Blue Moon - I figured this week's blog post should feature something to get you, dear reader, into the spooky spirit!
The Black Donnelly Murders, also known as the Biddulph Tragedy, is a story about immigration, intolerance, and mass paranoia - similar to that of the Salem Witch Trials. On the night of February 4th, 1880, a vigilante mob attacked the Donnelly family homestead in Lucan, Ontario, approx. 27 km from London. The Donnelly family, belonging to a group of Roman Catholic Irish immigrants who settled along "Roman Line" and had their own farm in the Protestant-majority village. By the start of early morning on February 5th, the mob had killed five of the Donnelly's and burned their farm to the ground. All of the violence and terror erupted from family feuds in the community and was legitimated using religion and class relations.
To begin, let's dive in to how the Donnelly's came to Biddulph. James Donnelly, a young coach driver from Tipperary Ireland, met Johanna McGee and the pair fell in love, but were forced to elope when James' father did not condone their union. To escape the father's outrage at their elopement and to build a better life, James and Johanna immigrated to Canada in 1842 with their first born child, James Jr. Several years later in 1845, the Donnelly's moved to an abandoned farm lot (number 18) on Roman Line in Biddulph township, making an arrangement with the absentee landlord John Grace to work the land. Over the next decade, the family grew to 8 children - seven sons and one daughter.
The disputes surrounding the Donnelly clan began in 1857, when James Donnelly Sr. killed a Mr. Patrick Farrell over a land claim, as Farrell had leased from John Grace. Grace took the matter to court, claiming a "squatting" offence against the Donnelly's to have them evicted before being able to claim the land under common law property rights. The judge acknowledged the work James Donnelly had put in to the property and decided to split the land equally amongst both parties. Donnelly received 50 acres to the north, and Farrell 590 acres to the south.
Right: young James and Johanna Donnelly
Even though things were settled in the eyes of the law, both parties still harbored anger towards one another. At a barn raising in June, 1857, James Donnelly Sr. killed Patrick Farrell in a fight after a fatal blow to the head with a handspike. Donnelly knew the offense would cost him his life, so he went in to hiding for two years until turning himself in to the court. James was sentenced to hang on September 17, 1859 but following a petition for clemency started by his wife Johanna his sentence was reduced to seven years at the Kingston Penitentiary.
During these seven years, Johanna struggled to make ends meet without her husband to oversee the farm work. She made an intelligent move to help their situation, selling a part of their land to be used to build a school. This same school was were her children were educated, eventually growing up to be young men who worked hard, and played even harder.
Below: a photo from an article in the London Free Press titled "Lawlessness in Lucan" February 26, 1876
In 1873, four of the Donnelly sons (William, Michael, John, and Tom) decided to start the Donnelly Stagecoach Line which ran between Exeter and London. Soon a rival company, Flanagan's, created friction between the businesses and the brothers. However, with the establishment of the Grand Trunk Railway in 1877, stagecoach businesses went downhill - sparking more intense outbreaks amongst the feuding companies. Around this time there were a number of fires started throughout Lucan in order to destroy rival resources like stables, coaches, and even horses. This is also when Bridget Donnelly, James Sr.'s niece, came to Canada from Ireland to live with her aunt and uncle.
By now, Biddulph township had earned a reputation as a lawless and violent place - almost looking like it came straight from a Country Western. In early 1879, the Roman Catholic Church in Biddulph received a new priest, Father John Connolly, who was determined to end the crazy warring in the town's streets. He created the "Biddulph Peace Society", but there were further disputes within this group and yet another group broke off to form the more extreme "Vigilance Society". This committee met on the night of the massacre, committed to ending the Donnelly feuds once and for all. Around midnight, the committee gathered their weapons and headed towards the Donnelly homestead - the majority of them had been drinking prior to the attack.
The day before the massacre the Donnelly's headed to the nearby town of Lucan to visit the grocery store and for James Sr. to post a letter to his lawyer regarding a case he was charged with in connection to a fire set on a local barn. While in town they also picked up Johnny O'Conner, a farm hand who was to watch the home the next day while the family went to court for the charges of arson.
The night of February 3rd, the Donnelly family was enjoying time together after supper. One son, John Donnelly, travelled to his brother William's home to borrow something and decided to stay the night. Everyone else left in the home retired as the night went on. Bridget and Johanna went to one bedroom, James Sr. and Johnny O'Conner in another, and Tom is his room down stairs. The vigilantes surrounded the house, lead by ringleader James Carroll who screamed "What have you got against us now?!", waking everyone from their sleep.
The vigilantes stormed into the house and handcuffed Tom, he tried to escape out the front door but was captured and beaten to death with a shovel and stabbed with a pitchfork. James and Johanna were trampled over and killed, and Bridget tried to escape up the stairs but was also killed. The only person left alive was Johnny O'Conner, who hid underneath his bed, where he watched the horrendous murders unfold. Too scared to leave, he stayed until the mob lit the house on fire with oil from the family's lamps, and escaped across the road to tell neighbor Patrick Whelan what he had witnessed.
Meanwhile, a second group of vigilantes had been sent to William Donnelly's home, who was considered to be the "ring leader" of the family. The mob was unaware that John Donnelly was staying the night. John opened the door and was shot point blank, thinking they had killed William the mob left the scene. Finally, the night of terror ended and a new day began. Five people were dead, and six leaders from the Vigilance Society were put on trial for their murder.
Two years of trials went by, and no one was charged with the murder of the Donnelly's. Johnny, the only witness, was 12 years old at the time of the massacre and his testimony was therefore considered to be moot.
The family had a massive tombstone erected to remember the five slain Donnelly's, but they didn't exactly find peace there. The story of the Black Donnelly's received recognition around the community and by 1964 the tombstone was removed from St. Patrick's Cemetery to deter tourists from chipping small pieces of it off as souvenirs. It was removed and given to William Donnelly's grandson who bared his namesake, he buried the stone so it could never be returned to Lucan before his death.
Left: The original Donnelly tombstone
This is one great example of the perils of dark tourism. Not only do several people lose their lives in horrific, undeserving ways, they also never got the justice they deserved or the appropriate attention to their memory. Rather than considerate tourists visiting to remember the violence and prejudice of the Donnelly story, their gravestone and memory are desecrated for the cheap thrill of owning a piece of history. Dark tourism distracts from the gravity these stories need to be commemorated so they do not re-inact themselves again. Sure, I love a good ghost story, but do you really need an old chunk of limestone to relive it? I know I don't - I'll just stick to spooky orbs in photographs!
136 years later, there is still no justice for the Donnelly family. Could this be because the town couldn't wait to put an end to the decades of fighting? Or maybe it was deemed un-important because of their status as Irish immigrants who are remembered for their drunken escapades? In terms of their memory, you can still visit the site of the Donnelly massacre in Lucan, Ontario. You can also visit the Donnelly Museum run by the Lucan Area Heritage Museum or celebrate the Donnelly way at the Black Donnelly's Brewing Co. in Mitchell, Ontario. Or, if you can't leave your home because of COVID-19, why not enjoy the Black Donnelly's story from the comfort of your home by watching the 2007 Black Donnelly's fictional adaptation TV series!
Right: The Black Donnelly's Brewing Co. Logo, which features a stagecoach and a nod to "Roman Line" where the homestead was located.
I would love to think that because of the unfinished ending of this story, the Donnelly's still wander around Lucan to find justice so they can finally rest in peace - but it seems like their story ends in 1880. And now it's time to end this story, too.
Hope you enjoyed this Hallowe'en blog post! Have a safe Hallowe'en and happy Samhain!