Police chief's passion for Irish music sounds through the century
AMERICA: Born in Skibbereen in 1848, Francis O’Neill collected more than 3,500 traditional tunes
HOW DIGNIFIED Capt Francis O’Neill looks in the sepia portrait photograph, taken 110 years ago and recently reproduced in the Library of Congress’s American Folklife Center News .
The Chicago police chief’s visored cap is embroidered with the words “Gen’ Superintendent” wreathed in laurels. The stars around his collar echo the larger star pinned on his chest. Gold buttons shine on his double- breasted jacket.
The greying temples suggest wisdom and authority; O’Neill would have been 53 at the time, but there’s a far-away look in his eyes, the hint of an artist in the shaggy moustache.
O’Neill was by all accounts an exemplary police chief, whose passion for Irish music endeared him to the denizens of Chicago. Junior officers played music with him and joined in his quest for Irish tunes. The force’s hierarchy broke down when lowly sergeants burst into O’Neill’s office unannounced.
On one occasion, O’Neill was believed to be hot on the trail of a murder suspect. Engulfed by reporters on returning to headquarters, he announced he’d found a 93-year-old Irishwoman who “had a tune” he had never heard, The Little Red Hen.
HOW DIGNIFIED Capt Francis O’Neill looks in the sepia portrait photograph, taken 110 years ago and recently reproduced in the Library of Congress’s American Folklife Center News .
The Chicago police chief’s visored cap is embroidered with the words “Gen’ Superintendent” wreathed in laurels. The stars around his collar echo the larger star pinned on his chest. Gold buttons shine on his double- breasted jacket.
The greying temples suggest wisdom and authority; O’Neill would have been 53 at the time, but there’s a far-away look in his eyes, the hint of an artist in the shaggy moustache.
O’Neill was by all accounts an exemplary police chief, whose passion for Irish music endeared him to the denizens of Chicago. Junior officers played music with him and joined in his quest for Irish tunes. The force’s hierarchy broke down when lowly sergeants burst into O’Neill’s office unannounced.
On one occasion, O’Neill was believed to be hot on the trail of a murder suspect. Engulfed by reporters on returning to headquarters, he announced he’d found a 93-year-old Irishwoman who “had a tune” he had never heard, The Little Red Hen.
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