By Emma Phoenix
On a sweltering summer’s day in July 2014, I found myself clustered with my extended family at the side of a quiet country road in County Down.
We were at the small, lush townland of Ballylough, a place that few have heard of, but one which was familiar to the members of the Phoenix Clan.
It was the site of the Ballylough National School, known locally as the ‘Phoenix School’ since 1820 and a very special place to us all, since our ancestor George Phoenix had been the school master there, along with his daughter Annie.
And why were we there? Well, the bat signal had been sent out by Éamon, inviting all Phoenix’s, big and small, to come to the unveiling of a memorial plaque marking the site of the school. It was a special moment, followed by a lecture by Éamon on our family connection to the townland of Ballylough and Tullylish. Kindly hosted in the church hall by the Tullylish Historical Society, we munched on traybakes and sandwiches as Éamon regaled us in his passionately infectious signature style on our ancestor George Phoenix and his family and the legacy they have in this small but beautiful part of Ireland.
Normally, one’s genealogy is only interesting to one’s own family, but of course Éamon painted such a rich and detailed picture, the local visitors were as enamoured as we were as they listened to the tale of William Phoenix, Éamon’s Grandfather, and my Great Grandfather, who was a riveter on Titanic and then fought and died in the Great War. The words, as always, fell naturally and lyrically from his lips as he weaved us all in his spell of nostalgia and tales of the past brought vividly to life.
Our family has always treasured its rich and varied history. With such a knowledgeable and passionate guardian of the family archive as Éamon, how could we not be inspired to learn as much as we could? Throughout our childhood, we learned from him how William Phoenix married Lucy Conlon, a Catholic girl whom his Protestant family disapproved of. He told us how they moved to Belfast where he worked for Workman Clarke’s at the shipyard, earning the Military Medal for his efforts at the Battle of the Somme. When William died, he left behind 5 young children, one of whom was Éamon’s Father, James and another my Grandfather, Billy.
Growing up
As a young Catholic girl growing up in Belfast in the 90s, learning about the wonderful cross-community connection within my family history was something precious and hopeful. I know that Éamon was immensely proud of this too, and my cousins and I will strive to pass these details on to our own children.
I remember meeting with Éamon when I was in my early twenties, skipping up excitedly with my little notebook and pen up to his office in Stranmillis, wide eyed and in absolute awe to be shown our family bible owned by George, and to see the ‘death penny’ a memento sent to William’s wife on his death in The Great War. He had all the time in the world to tell me a tale that I’m sure he’d told many times before!
I naively thought I would have lots of research to do, imagining myself leafing through ancient books in the public record office and scrolling through microfiche machines, but of course, Éamon had done it all already, and I left laden with photocopies and photographs to devour and enjoy. Like George, Éamon passed on a legacy to me that day, and to all of us of course; as he was our family oracle – each of us going to him in turn over the years, to lap up the stories and details that brought our ancestors to life.
And speaking of my Phoenix cousins, I know that I speak for all of them here when I reflect on memories of Éamon and how he inspired all of us to be curious, to investigate details and to learn as much as we could about all that we could. As I looked around me on that day in Tullylish, I realised that so many of us had become teachers, and that the gift of being able to educate was clearly in our blood.
Memories of Éamon
Éamon once came to visit a group of young people that I teach, children who struggle with social, emotional and well-being needs. This was in what is now the Westcourt Centre, previously the original site of the Christian Brothers school in Barrack Street. But of course, Éamon not only knew the history of the school, but of the entire site, and told captivating tales of a Peasants Revolt, how the building was used as a TB hospital, and even how William of Orange stabled his horses on the site of the barracks.
These pupils, who normally need superhuman efforts from staff to stay focused and in their seats, were completely spellbound by his narration. What should have been a 45 minute lesson quickly became a two hour discussion, the pupils firing questions at Éamon, which he had every answer for, even throwing in some fun traditional ghost stories for good measure. They even forgot to take their lunch!
What I will never forget though, is how a few weeks later, before I had a chance to check back in with Éamon and thank him properly, he sent me a lovely card, thanking me for the opportunity to speak to the pupils, and how he had so enjoyed being back in the classroom. A man who was so in demand countrywide for his talent, knowledge and insight into our island, was such an educator at heart that he felt thankful for the chance to spend time with us – I will never forget that kindness and humility, not to mention the impact he had on our young people that day.
Phoenix tapestry
Éamon will long be rightly remembered by the world as a person with a passion for History that transcended politics, someone who inspired others with his commentary and knowledge, who brought the past to life with a brilliance and depth that few could match.
For our family, he will be forever held in our affections as the husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and cousin who encouraged our curiosity. He discovered details, sourced stories and compiled a plentiful abundance of family history about our ancestors that few other families can boast of. Éamon will always be fondly remembered as the true guardian of our family’s treasures, and we promise to always guard them with as much devotion and sanctity as he did.
Thanks to Éamon, our family story will always be valued and carried forward. Our children will learn from us what we learned from him, and they, in turn, will carry on that tradition. We now must add his full and storied life to that colourful Phoenix tapestry – and it is our honour to do so.