Frank Horan, 1935-2020
Interviews recorded as part of the Luton Voices project in 2010
Written By Elleesa Rushby, 2020
A Voice for the Irish in Luton – Frank Horan 1935-2020
The Irish community is a vital part of the fabric of Luton and has made a huge contribution to the town’s growth and prosperity. Theirs is a distinct voice, cherishing the links they have with home and their culture. And there are people who have actively strived to maintain these links and yet are very engaged with the communities in which they live.
Frank Horan was one of those people. With the sad news of his recent passing, it’s fitting to look back at Frank’s life and the outstanding contribution he has made to the Irish in Luton and to the community as a whole. He and his late wife Margaret came to Luton in 1965 and brought up their three children there. Frank was happy in Luton and felt very at home with all of his neighbours in Marsh Farm, a place where he felt ,“you could get on with anyone; people of all descriptions.” Frank’s daughter Geraldine spoke with great pride of his ethos of inclusivity and accepting nature, saying that it has shaped the woman she has become.
Frank recalled that in the 1950s, there were no prospects in rural Ireland for young people, even those with a good education and this was particularly true of the West. He said, “I remember the young men who returned to Ireland at Christmas with loads of money in their pockets and showing off about how great they were doing in England.”
Ireland’s greatest export, it is often said with regret, is her children. But ask Frank if he was sad to leave his native County Mayo on the West Coast of Ireland at the tender age of 19, and he would have said that his overwhelming feeling was one of hope rather than sadness. Of course, he was concerned for his mother, just like thousands of other émigré sons and daughters.
in 1955, Frank and his brother Con came to England, but Frank was soon left to his own devices in a new country. London must have seemed a world away from his hometown of Partry. He’d exchanged dry stone walls, green fields and rolling skies for an office job in a Harlesdon factory and swapped the comforts of his family home for a cramped room shared with three or four other people. But he was earning! His weekly wage was £5.00, although half of that went on the rent. Frank forged great friendships with his room mates as they were all in the same position.
One of the most striking aspects of Frank’s story is that he had to leave his own country in order to meet so many of his own countrymen and women and he had few regrets. “It was a better life and as you settled down, the Irish created their own social life and gravitated towards their own.”
This was the golden age of the Galtymore, Cricklewood, where at a dance, Frank met his wife Margaret in 1957. Margaret was originally from Knockmeal, County Kerry. Frank had been to dancehalls back in Ireland but the Galtymore was something else. “I enjoyed going to dance halls back in Ireland, but I thought the Galtymore was grand! I seldom met anyone from outside my area before I moved.” The Galtymore proved to be a ‘ballroom of romance’ for Frank and Margaret and they married in 1960.
There were few affordable homes being built in London, and with a growing family, Frank and Margaret, like many other young Irish couples, moved out to Luton, settling in the Saints area. Frank commuted to London for six months , working for Commer Cars but was soon able to work more locally. An opportunity for career progression came with HC Janes, where Frank worked as a supervisor during the building of Jansel House, Stopsley. His next job was at A C Delco, who manufactured car accessories and parts. Finally, he worked at Vauxhalls in a supervisory role until retirement.
Luton saw a huge influx of Irish labour responding to the demands of the local manufacturing and construction industries. A community was forming, bonding through County Associations, Church and sport. In 1994 Frank was elected Chairman of the Mayo Association (Luton) and held this position for ten years. In 1993, he was proud to accept an invitation to a garden party at Buckingham Palace on behalf of the Mayo Association in recognition of the charitable work it had done.
Frank also found time, in retirement to take up golf and was a member of the Luton Irish Golf Society. Frank would joke that they were “a group of proud Irishmen, and one or two of them can play golf as well!”
In 1997, in response to a government initiative encouraging community groups to be more proactive in the lives of their communities, Frank became one of the founder members and secretary of Luton Irish Forum. It was a great opportunity to give “a voice for the Irish in Luton”. Frank was delighted and said, “the response from our community was excellent and great progress followed.”
Luton Borough Council actively supported the Forum, offering them three rooms, rent free at the Recreation Centre in Old Bedford Road and helped locate the site of the purpose built advice and community centre, Kathleen Connolly House, which was opened by the then Taoiseach Bertie Ahern, in 2006. Frank was central to the growth of Luton Irish Forum and looked back with pride at the opening day. “It was indeed a day to remember for the Irish in Luton and the Luton Irish Forum.”
Frank had a notable talent as a writer and his poem The Princess Maude captured the immigrant voice and experience of so many who caught the boat. Frank was a champion of the Arts and Culture in Luton, participating and arranging Irish Cultural nights and welcoming visiting Irish drama groups, who performed classical and contemporary plays for the St Patrick’s Festival. Through the visiting plays, audiences could revisit their own past and understand the dramas of Irish life. For second and third generation audiences, these plays were full of the family you might meet on a trip back to Ireland or in often told family tales. Frank gifted us his love of Irish culture; sometimes sad, sometimes funny but always authentic, helping the diaspora process their own journey and changing identity in a new place.
Frank served as Chair of Luton Irish Forum, retiring in 2014. He remained very involved in the Forum, serving as a Trustee. In 2018, he was invited by the Irish Ambassador, Adrian O’Neill, to attend with Luton Irish Forum to celebrate their twentieth anniversary. A talented singer, Frank, as part of the Luton Irish forum Choir entertained Ambassador O’Neill with ‘Céad Míle Fáilte‘ and ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’. The Embassy Reception was fitting recognition for the sustained and enthusiastic work of the Forum and a very proud day for Frank.
Frank was a dedicated family man, married to Margaret for fifty-eight years. He was devoted to her. Geraldine said she felt that her parents were really lucky to have found life-long love. Sadly, Margaret died in March 2018. Geraldine felt that her dad, Frank was never the same after Margaret’s death. Theirs was a long and happy marriage and they were blessed with three children, Michael, Geraldine and Julie (RIP) and with grandchildren, Maria, Sarah and Callum. Frank was devastated at the loss of his daughter Julie at age fifty-one, to ovarian cancer in December 2012. The Forum that he had helped create, became a lifeline for him, with his good friend Tony Murphy taking him to bingo and to have a catch up with all their Forum friends. Frank passed away on 20 July 2020, aged eighty-four, following a short illness. Frank will be missed by all the people whose lives he has touched, professionally and personally down the years. Tom Scanlon, the current Chair of Luton Irish Forum paid tribute, saying “Frank was a great supporter and cultural champion since the establishment of the charity 22 years ago. He will be greatly missed by his friends at LIF and the Luton community at large.”
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam
(May his holy soul be on the right hand side of God)
With grateful thanks to Geraldine Horan and the Horan family for sharing memories of Frank.
By Frank Horan (copyright)
The Princess Maude
I stood outside the iron gate my suitcase in my hand,
The time had come for me to go and leave my native land,
My mother dear god bless her, could not hold back the tears,
Like a million other mothers for years and years and years.
I board the train in Galway, at last I’m on my way,
Seldom on a train before be-God, this is a special day.
The rain was lashing down as Dublin came into view,
Soon it was Dunlaoire, the dream was coming true.
The scene was wild and wintry, but we weren’t overawed,
As we sailed for dear old England on board the Princess Maude.
Darkness was falling as we rode the wintry seas,
The lights of Ireland fading to become fond memories,
The Maude was creaking, tossing, lashed by wind and rain,
And the sea-sickness gripped us, as our stomachs ached with pain.
The feeling it was awful as you tried to keep your head,
As you rolled about that bloody boat, you wished that you were dead.
Murphy in his agony belched and cried and roared,
“Get me absolution quick” says he, for I’m jumping overboard.
But Holyhead was beckoning at the deadly hour of three,
As the ‘Maude’ came into harbour, and we left that awful sea.
The ‘Irish Mail’ was waiting – J’es I’ve never seen a train that long,
We bundled in as best we could a tired and weary throng.
The train’s pervading whistle aroused us now and then,
As we roared through station after station, after station,
Then back to sleep again.
Dawn was slowly breaking as we eagerly caught view,
Rows and rows of smoking houses, against a sky of black and blue,
The train was moving gently now slowly journey’s end,
As we said “hello” to Euston and we looked around for friends.
The bustle and the noise, the rushing and the strife,
“Jes this is the biggest shed I’ve seen in all my life”
Murphy was so happy, his story must be told,
For he’d made it to old London, where the streets are paved with gold.
Suddenly (on the platform) – He saw a fiver without warning,
But he kicked it deftly to one side – (says he) – “I’ll start collecting in the morning!”
So we scattered far and near for many destinations,
To try our luck and make our way, like many, many generations.
Some perhaps did not survive, and many more did thrive,
But they won’t forget “The Princess Maude” – the year was fifty-five.