The Smashing of the van
I
strolled down Castle Street in Glasgow’s east end this week and got to thinking
about the history which had been played out in this, the oldest
part of the city. As I passed the Royal Infirmary, once the site of the Castle
which gave the street its name, I recalled the tales of William Wallace
capturing that same castle during the Scottish Wars of Independence in 1297. Further
down the street stands Glasgow cathedral. It was here the stone masons
confronted the Reformers in the sixteenth century who were determined to
destroy the building as they had destroyed so many other great church buildings
in Scotland. Thankfully a compromise was agreed and they destroyed instead any
interior signs of ‘Popery’ such as art works, statues and rood screens but left
the building standing. Across the road is the oldest surviving house in Glasgow
built in 1472 and diagonally opposite that is a statue of William of Orange in
Roman garb on his horse with its tail held on by a ball and socket joint after
repeated vandalism in the late nineteenth century.
Go
a little further and you’ll see the remains of the walls of the old Duke Street
prison. The Ladywell flats complex is inside the much reduced walls of what was
one of Scotland’s major jails. It was here almost a century ago that an
incident occurred which is surprisingly little known today. Let me take you
back though to a very different Glasgow from the one we know today…
It
seemed like a normal Wednesday afternoon in Glasgow as people went about their
business on a warm spring day in 1921. The east end of Glasgow was enjoying
some bright May weather and the area around Castle Street, which led to the
Cathedral and Royal Infirmary, was busy but all seemed normal. That was about
to change as the lumbering Black Maria Police van made its way from the Central
Police Court in St Andrew’s Square to Duke Street Prison. It contained just two
prisoners and one of them was of such importance that four armed officers
formed an escort. The back of the van was divided into compartments known as
dog boxes; one contained a petty criminal and the only other occupied dog box
contained Frank Carty.
Carty
was a highly dangerous man in the eyes of the British authorities. A battle
hardened Commander of the IRA who had fought the Black and Tans in his homeland
for two long and bloody years. He had already escaped from Sligo and Derry
prisons and the authorities were taking no chances. Glasgow then was a city
with a large Irish population many of whom were sympathetic to the cause Carty
fought for. Indeed, Eamon de Valera,
the president the Irish Republic said of Scotland’s assistance to the struggle
for Irish independence:
‘The
financial contribution to the Irish struggle from among the Scottish
communities was in excess of funds from any other country, including Ireland.’
Scotland was more than a source of money and
sympathy for the Republican cause during the Irish war of independence;
weapons, explosives and volunteers crossed the sea too. Most major population
centres in Scotland had their clandestine companies of volunteers who robbed
munition works, stole weapons and on one occasion held up the crew of a Royal
Navy gunboat docked at Finnieston and stole their weapons. Chris Bambery in his
book ‘A people’s history of Scotland’ states
that…
‘Seamus
Reader, the commander of the Scottish IRA was able to slip into the chemistry
department of Glasgow University where he manufactured explosives which were
then shipped to Ireland.’
In this atmosphere, it was plain to see why the
Police thought Frank Carty needed some extra security as he journeyed to Duke
Street Jail. As events were to prove, they were right to be concerned for as
the Van slowed near the entrance of the Prison, a team of IRA Volunteers led by
hardened Republican Sam Adair sprung their ambush. Witnesses spoke of ‘scores’
of armed men running from lanes and closes of the High Street to ambush the
van. As people fled in terror, the IRA men fired into the van killing one of
the escorting officers and wounding another. The other officers returned fire
and a deadly gun fight took place on the public street. The attackers were
unable to free Carty despite firing repeatedly into the lock on the metal door
of the van. In the end the attackers gave up and melted away into the warren of
closes and lanes which made up the area then.
Glasgow was shocked by what had occurred on that bright
May day and police raids took place immediately in areas they thought
sympathetic to the rebels in Ireland. The Glasgow Irish were still ghettoised in
those times and life revolved around the local community, the Parish and for
many Celtic Park. As doors were battered down in the east end of the city,
people were becoming irate and a large crowd gathered in Abercrombie Street.
The Police arrived by the van load to raid more homes and their heavy handed
approach ensured that the anger in a community, which had long thought they
were treated unfairly, was growing. When they arrested a local Priest, Father
McCrory of St Mary’s, things got out of hand and serious rioting occurred. The
Police were forced to withdraw but not before dozens had been taken into
custody and scores of firearms recovered. As a mob reported as two thousand
strong controlled the Gallowgate area that night, the army quietly readied
itself in case it was required to assist the hard pressed Police.
Charges against a dozen men and women involved in
the ‘smashing of the van’ went to trial in Edinburgh but the Jury found all
involved not guilty or not proven. No one was ever convicted for the killing of
Superintendent Robert Johnstone who died that day. Sam Adair the IRA man who
led the attempt to free Frank Carty died in the civil war which followed the
signing of the treaty which ended the ‘Tan War’ and led to the partition of Ireland. It was said that Frank Carty,
the man he had tried to rescue in Glasgow, had ordered the ambush.
Glasgow
in those times was in many ways a divided city and this was expressed in many
ways, not least in its sectarian geography and the street gangs of the era,
some of whom were hundreds strong. The Billy Boys and Bridgeton Derry were
often locking horns with their mainly catholic rivals the Norman Conks or the
Shamrock. Their battles could be brutal and this era gave Glasgow its ‘No Mean
City’ reputation. In Politics, the Glasgow Irish were often more interested in
what was going on in Ireland than the local scene where virulently
anti-Catholic political parties had sprung up. The Protestant Action Party and
Protestant League could win a quarter of the vote at local elections in
Edinburgh and Glasgow. With high unemployment, poverty and over-crowding, the
conditions were rife for such extremist voices to be heard.
The
year following the attempt to free Frank Carty Celtic travelled to Greenock for
the finale of a very tight Championship race. They needed to avoid defeat to
ensure they would be champions and Morton, who would win the cup that year,
would prove formidable opponents. As thousands of Celtic supporters flooded
into Greenock there was tension in the air. Police stopped Celtic fans entering
the stadium with banners described in the press as ‘Sinn Fein’ flags (Irish tricolours)
but they were simply passed over the wall to their comrades inside. Fighting
broke out on the terraces as they game commenced and continued sporadically
until the teams left the field at half-time. It was then the real trouble
occurred, with hundreds involved clashes and fans racing from one end of the
field to the other to join in the fray. Ship yard workers from Greenock had
been seen carrying bags of metal rivets into the game and these caused many
injuries when thrown. The Police were helpless to stop the mayhem and only the
resumption of the game distracted the rioters from their activities. Celtic
drew 1-1 thanks to a late goal from Andy McAtee and won the title by one point but
as fans exited the stadium the violence resumed. Morton fans were seen to burn
Celtic flags and both sets of supporters laid into each other again. There was
trouble in and around the railway station and on the trains back to Glasgow
where among other things Police had to overpower a man wielding a razor. Shop
windows were smashed and looted, the cells were full and the hospital
overcrowded by the end of a day in which Greenock had seen the worst rioting in
its history.
It’s
interesting comparing the Glasgow of the 1920’s to the modern city. We often
see some faux outrage when someone sings a non PC song at a football match or
displays a banner with political content but that pales into insignificance
when we consider the political and social divisions at play a century ago. The
Irish-Scots have come a long way in the past hundred years and are now a fully
integrated and prominent part of the Scottish nation. Through inter-marriage
and the passing of time, each succeeding generation becomes more Scottish,
proud of their ancestry of course, but now much more comfortable in their native
land. Scotland’s largest migrant group, once virtually written out of any
history of the country, are now being rightly recognised for their role in
building its infra structure, for their contribution in sports, the arts, education,
law, politics and much more.
Perhaps
the most visible symbol of their presence in this old city is to be found in
the east end of Glasgow at the top of what we used to call Kerrydale Street...
