Irish News 1919

[maddox]

France recieves the new Irish ambassador, Aidan Gallagher,  in Real French style.  

Glorious France hopes that Monsieur l'ambassadeur has a good constitution.

[snip]

A pub in Dublin:

Liam Flanagan sat in a both of to the side of the bar in the Leprechaun's Charm. He was not alone however, three other men were at the table. By any looks, they were just four friends out for the evening swapping stories away from the ears of there wives. There was some of this going on, but most of the talk was business. The four men at the table held almost all of the Irish aeroplane industry between them. There was Ossian Brennan, head of the Emerald Aircraft Factory. The head of Mac Ateer Aircraft Works, Finbar Mac Ateer, and of St. Patric Aeronautical Company, Brendan Keogh, were also at the table. Liam was the head of the Irish National Aeronautical Research Laboratory. A waitress brought a round of tall beer glasses to the table. After watching the waitress walk back to the bar, and toasting each-others good health, the conversation began. "So, anything new sense our last get to gather?" Finbar asked. The four were good friends and did this often. "I though we were here to talk business? About these new techniques Liam's whizkids have bee working on?" Ossian was always one to get right into things, partially because he enjoyed his alcohol a bit to much. "Well they almost have some stuff that would be very interesting to you boys." Liam said "By the beginning of next year they should be all done." "What about these new fanged aeroplane-carrier ships? Do we have anything on those" Brendan's company was the best out of the three for making floatplanes. "The Navy brass says there looking into getting involved with a foreign program,"Noticing the look on Brendan's face Liam quickly added, "using our own planes of course. This ships themselves, I could care less." "Amen to that" Finbar said. The beer glasses were raised in toast again. The conversation continued in the direction of business until the third round. After that, the men said there goodbyes and left the pub.

[maddox]

Current events

After the official ,press infested, meeting at the steps of the  brandnew Irish Embassy, Rue Rude, Paris, Ambassadeur gallager is invited to join Premier Galpoux for dinner at Hotel Napoleon, the roost of the French upper bureaucracy.

OOC The entire conversation is in French, our best Premier can't even imagine how Gaelic sounds, luckely, monsieur Gallager is fluent in French, as well in Norman, one of the reasons he's chosen for the job

Now we have cut the ribbons, had the tour trough the new Irish embassy, can I give you my personal thanks for this happy occation. From having an envoy and consul, to a full ambassador. Glorious France is honored to have you here Ambassador Gallager. How can we serve you.
Gallager is slightly overwhelmed by all of the attention he is getting, but is also enjoying it , and maybe just a little to much.

I would hate to intrude upon the schedule that has been layed out for us, but I am quickly getting to the point where I must eat. All of the excitement of the day has made it almost impossible to have more than a glass of water.

My toughts exactly, (patting his ample belly). So, that is why we are here, in the heart, or sould I say stomache of the worlds diplomacy. (yes, France is decadent and arrogant)
Premier Galpoux makes a handgesture, and a stunning waitress, in "classical French maid costume" brings a teatray with a selection of horse d'ouvres as well a selection of bottles, wines, cognacs, but also Scottish and Irish wiskeys.
Gallager takes some of the horse d'ouvres and asks the waitress for a glass of wine. When she turn around to pour the drinks, he takes a good long look at her backside, and does a very poor job of hiding it. Premier Galpoux is dividing his attention to the lovely hills that are demonstrated in the low cut dress and winking to the new ambassador, already liking the man.

It seems you're settling rather well. Did you assemble enough of an embassy staff to fill in all the needs of an ambassador? And I mean the needs of any civilised ambassador. Glorious France is generous in that respect.We had our situations with embassies that attracted  less than savory individuals. And that has to be avoided at all costs.

Gallager,blinking,  immediately snaps back into there conversation. "Um, yes, yes indeed. Some of my staff haven't arrived yet but Im sure in the meantime I would be able to borrow the necessary persons?"

I believe monsieur Grange, one of the aides of Minister Capet is around somewere. He can help you in that respect.  I must admit he has a peculiar taste; He prefers females as prime source of employees.
gesturing a garçon, also a prime example of young adult savorisme...  Please, can you ask Monsieur Grange to join us?

Gallager nods. Certainly, the one thing I appear to be lacking is translators. I wouldn't want any communication being delayed on that account. The look in Gallager's eye however, shows he has caught onto what Galpoux is implying.

Ah , monsieur Grange, meet Monsieur l'ambassadeur Gallager. He has need for your specific field of expertise.

Mes oui Premier.
How can I serve you Ambassador?

Monsieur l'ambassadeur needs a few secretaries fluent in English and French, to aid his own personel that is less fluent in the "Langue de L'amour". I believe your departement has a few cannidates that can apply for that job?

That, Premier, sounds perfect for my departement. Thank you for this opportunity.
Ambassadeur Gallager, I think I can present you with a selection of my translators. Any specific wishes.

Euh, Yes (in the mean time, Gallagers eyes wander around trying to get more eyecandy, especialy the waitress that brought the hors d'oeuvers. but it's obvious that Hotel Napoleon does very strict selection criteria concerning waitresses and waiters. Yes, he's fitting right in Paris.) , As long my staff isn't up to date with the people with the needed oral, euh language skills, I'm in need of a few translators. From experience I know I work best with educated female staff.
But, I talked shop for a whole day now. is there any way a gentlemen can get something more solid to eat than some small snacks.

Of course Monsieur Gallager. Lets go to our table.
Monsieur Grange, would you join us?

No, thanks for the invitation, but I have other arrangements for dinner. My protege is coming with his wife.

Oh, you mean Professeur Henry, the young black guy who solved the Wilson Mystery.
I don't know if professeur Henry solved that mystory, but he solved the Radium Girls case together with his wife. So gentlemen, I bid you a pleasant evening, and we'll meet soon enough in a more official setting.

That sounds mightely interesting. I would like to hear more of that later. But as you say Monsieur grange, you have other appointments. And if you appolegise me, I'm afraid my gastronomical interest is aroused (glancing over Granges shoulder, watching a beautifull rear view of the waitress fidgetting at a table set for 3). Have an equaly enjoyable evening too.  Premier Galpoux, shall we?

Of course. We wouldn't keep minister Capet waiting won't we.

[Carthaginian]

Early July 1919
*overheard in a carpenter's shop at the Lougheed Factory in Charleston, South Carolina*

"Were'd that carpenter's helper get off to? We have 40 more tail assemblies to get bolted together by quitting time!"

"I ain't sure, Rev'rund. By damn, he ain't nowhere in the shop. I been lookin' for him for the last ten minutes."

"Still you mouth, Billy, you know I find profanity reprehensible. Now, does ANYONE KNOW WHERE HE IS!" The Reverend's 'Sunday Morning' voice echoed throughout the noisy shop. Heads turned, and several of the less than gainfully employed men started looking for their foreman's target.

Forty minutes of searching later- the last ten or so very organized and quite thorough- it was obvious that not only was the young helper missing, but also a set of plans for the new scout that they had recently begun work on- the Falcon*.

By the time anyone noticed that he was gone, Colin had hitched a ride to a local general store with a farmer. He then paid a man in a flatbed fifty cents to take him as close to Cherokee as he would take him to throw anyone off his trail. By dusk, Colin was in Colombia. He'd then catch a train north to Raleigh and then on to Elizabeth City. There he'd meet up with his compatriots and cross into Virginia.

After that, it was out of Norfolk and bound for Dublin via a slow boat.


The Falcon is a Sopwith Baby, and the plans in question have both wheel and float equipped variants.

[snip]

Conor Canavan had very selective hearing. As the head of the Dublin Naval Yard's Construction and Repair Division, it was the only way to survive. Most of his time was spent not in the office, but around the drydocks and slipways of the yard, at least the ones that were building ships. Some of the yardhands swore that Conor "The Human Wrench" Canavan could tell if a weld or rivet was good just by licking it or putting his ear to it. Today, however, he sat inside, patiently waiting for his one o'clock appointment his secretary had informed him he had. He hoped it wasn't someone incredibly important. One of the new workers had been having some trouble figuring out the riveter he was using, and Canavan had given the lad a crash course. This had of course left him seeing spots and covered in soot. He hoped this visit would be quick so he could get back to helping the lad, and adding to the rumor mill, a bad habit of his. Five minuets before one, two men, one with very thick glasses, bustled there way thought  the door. "Great, just what I need, Eggheads" Conor muttered to himself. Then he noticed the characteristic blue roles of paper the man with glasses had tucked under his arm. Blueprints? Yes but for what? Standing up from the table he got right down to business, "I wasn't told we had any new projects. Do we have new hulls to build gentlemen?" "Maybe for the future," the  man without glasses replied "we figured that it would be a good idea to run the prints by someone with building experience, to get some input at this stage." The man with glasses was working on clearing off the table in the middle of the room to unroll the prints on. "The prints for what?" Try as he might Conor could not keep the confusion and curiosity out of his voice. "No one told you we were coming?" Glasses said "You must get really bored sitting around all day." "I knew you were coming," Conor retorted "otherwise I would sill be out in the Yard. They didn't tell me why." "Well you should be glad your hear instead" No Glasses unrolled the bundle of blueprints. "She is the newest concept, what do you think of her?" Conor could barely say anything, he was so overwhelmed "She...She's beautiful!"

[maddox]

OOCSmall detail, welding in the 1920 was for very small parts or on a very experimental basis. Brazing, soldering or rivitting are the more common methodes in that day and age, with bolting a far distant next worst solution.

[snip]

fixed

[snip]

"So gentlemen, now that the drinks are here, I believe it is time to begin discussing business." This was the way that Kieran Quinlan liked to do things. Drinks, mainly those of the alcoholic variety, had a tendency to make things go smother, all in moderation of course. "First of, anyone have news from China?" The assembled Cabinet members looked at Information Minister Richard O'Keefe.

"Well," began Richard "we have no hard figures yet, but what were hearing puts casualty numbers anywhere from 100,000 to 1 and a half million." "Good god in heaven" the defense Minster Louis Brennan said. He then drained his glass and crossed himself "If we ever took casualties like that in a war..." Public Services Minister Noel Andrews summed it up "We would be out of a job." All the ministers nodded and agreament. Some followed Louis's example and drained there glasses.

"Well then, that brings me to my major concern" Keiran had barley drank from his glass. "With tensions running so high, is it possible that others may become involved? More importantly, what are the chances of us getting involved through no doing of our own?" The minister's eyes darted around, trying to force others to speak up first. Louis rose from his chair.

"Sir, it is not great secret that the powers of Europe have friendships with the waring China's. Wile I believe cooler heads will prevail in keeping the conflict from spreading to European shores, that might no be the case." Kieran could tell that Louis was somewhat talking though his hat, but Louis was most likely the best informed of all those present. "And as for us becoming involved?" "As with before, very unlikely, but not impossible." That statement had the effect of killing all shuffling in the room.

"So gentlemen, let us ponder the worst case scenario here. The present conflict, or perhaps something else entirely, sets off a European war. Who would be most likely to give us help, if we required it?" Somewhat reluctantly Foreign Minister Aodh de Blácam opened his mouth. "At this time, we have new ambassadors in France, the Kingdom of the Netherlands and the Confederate States of America. In the event of a European war, we can most likely rule out the CSA for immediate, direct assistance due to the considerable distance involved." "You mean to say they would not help us?" Those word, or those of similar meaning passed the lips of several men. "Until an event occurs, we cant be sure of who would. Regardless of the event, it would take a bit of time for the CSA to get anything over here to help. Time might not be a commodity we have much of."

"Well then who would be able to help us better, the Dutch or the French?" Kieran asked, seeing the same question poised on the lips of most of the men. Aodh took a deep breath. "Historically, we have stronger ties with the Dutch. But one must consider, based on the alliance system if that precarious balance is disrupted, there is a almost certen chance that Holland and France would end up at war." Kieran noticed all the ministers had stopped holding there drinks and were now fully focused on Aodh.

"So what you saying is that our current relations on the continent will end up fighting if there is a war?" This was Project Minister Frank Pantridge. "Why not just stay away from any sort of defensive agreements in general?" This was a good question. "Frank, you know how we talked about trying to get foreign capital to help with some of the ideas your staff has been kicking around." Kieran said "They may want some return on there investments, like basing rights, that would effectively make us allies. I for one, would rather have some sort of formal, two sided agreement, then a stipulation on an lump of gold."

"So then who do we aproch?" Frank asked. Aodh started "There have been some problems with the Dutch ambassadorial staff, there still geting everthing set up. The French on the other hand, they have all the bases covered, we have an almost fully functioning embasy already. Ambassador Gallager is also making quite a few friends, aparently." Louis joined in "Also French ports, and therefor ships are relatively close, and there would not be a power in the way who we could find ourselves at war with, if the balance is upset." Kieran had made up his mind "Aodh, instruct you man in France to start putting out feelers, same with your man in the CSA, they are part of the same alliance after all. Lastly, be careful, we could very easily mess this up." All the men nodded in agreement. "Now on a lighter note, have you all met that Mick Shanahan in the Navy department? What a loaded gun that man is." Several of the ministers chuckled. All were thinking about the impact Kieran's decision. All thought different.

[snip]

Overheard in some government office:
"That deal seems to good, what do they want in return?" 'Just some basing rights, here look." "That could be trouble, you know what they could do from there right?" "You have a point, but that's not for us to decide, send it up."

[Carthaginian]

030 hours local
Key West, Florida

A middle age man of medium build and average height boards a ship bound for Dublin, London, and Calais. He carries with him a largish suitcase and a smallish trunk. His clothing bespeaks neither money nor lack of it, and his 2nd class ticket provides no indication of his purpose.

No one pays him very much attention as he moves among the other passengers... and that was precisely why his Associates chose him for his task. He was particularly pleased that one in particular had endorsed his candidacy for this mission- it even afforded him a quasi-legitimacy outside his current post.

So this Anyman boarded the vessel quietly, went about his business aboard the ship with only minimum interaction but always with proper manners, and disembarked in Dublin without anyone remembering so much as his name.

In fact, the only thing that any person aboard the vessel ever marked as unique or particularly interesting about him was the small but distinctive gold and sapphire ring that was always on his right ring finger...

NOTICE: Allow me to apologize to any honorable Freemasons who might happen to be members of this board. In spite of having 3 generations of Masons in my family, I have never become affiliated with the Lodge my family has attended for almost 100 years. Thus, I write this part of my story in ignorance. Should any Freemason present wish to advise me about how best to proceed with this storyline in a manner that will not violate his Oaths, I would appreciate the help.

[snip]

Conor Canavan slumped into a chair in front of the only table in his small flat in Dublin. In front of him was a drawing of the ship that the designers had shown him earlier that day. They hadn't let him take the full blueprints.

Seeing the name of the ship, Cathryn, brought back a flood of horrible, terrifying and demoralizing memories. It had been a relatively calm day in Belfast. He was home from work, sick. His wife, Cathryn left the flat to go get them some lunch. She never returned. The man who informed him of the accident told him it was one of the at the time new automobiles. The driver had lost control and carriend into the shop were his wife was just walking out the door with lunch. The more devastating blow came when a doctor told him that Cathryn had been pregnant. Conor did the only thing he could, he ran away as fast as possible. After wandering around the island, he eventually stetted down in Dublin. He moved the paper out of the way as tears began to stream down his face. "She will get built, no mater what" he sobbed to the ceiling "It needs to happen". He stood up and began to rummage though a desk. Finding the picture brought a fresh onslaught of tears.

[snip]

Mick Shanahan idly fingered the ring on his right hand. In the firelight of his study, the light played of the blue of the sapphire in the center in fascinating ways. The Masons were not to prevalent in Ireland, but they were here none the less. Mick was on of the highest ranking members, and also the highest in the Government. That is what made the letter in his hand very interesting. He had already replied to it and was expecting a guest. His wife knew as much, and was upstairs. Two healthy glasses of his finest whiskey were already sitting out, along with the rest of the bottle. The knock at the door was a welcome sound.

Note: Unlike Carthaginian, I have no knowledge of anything to do with the Masonic order, aside from what is said in Dan Brown novels (a truly reputable source if there ever was one </sarcasm>). For the most part, I will be talking through my hat. If anyone is willing to help out, in a legal way if you are affiliated, please do so.

[snip]

Brendan Keogh sat in his office, looking over several pieces of paper. More he was shuffling them around why he waited for the rest of his designers  to filter into his office. After all of them had crammed in, Brendan cleared his throat to quiet the room. "How many of you have heard of the Caldera Cup?" None of the designers made any motion to show they had. Brendan shook his head, "Well that makes this a bit more difficult. Its a floatplane race that is held every two years. The last one was held in Italy and the Grand Colombian's won it." He gestured to three stacks of papers on his desk "Here are the rules, all the data on the previous entrants, and finally, what we think other nations will be bringing to the next contest. We will be working with the INARL on this. We have two years gentlemen. Start making teams to go through all the data. We are going to win in 1921, for Ireland." The designers exploded into conversation. Brendan smiled.


Note: The INARL is the Irish National Aeronautical Research Laboratory

[snip]

Overheard in the office of William Dargan, Minister of Transportation.
"I don't know gentlemen, we may not have anything that powerful." " But its not out of the realm of plausibility?" "Far from it, I will handle the inquiries personally." "One more thing it needs to fit in here." (shuffling of papers) "So your the reason all my hair is falling out."

[snip]

"They want to do what?" Mick Shanahan said, shocked into a opened mouth exasperation. "As we heard from Ambassador Gallager, the French are going to be selling some cruisers." Aodh de Blácam stated in between sips of tea "I have heard very well backed rumors that the Dutch are willing to help us acquire one or two" "Did your man say what ships?" Mick was still trying to regain his composure, this was truly the finest offer he had ever heard. "The Demarce IV class, I think. Yes, yes those are the ones, the four that came back from the Rift afloat." Aodh seemed a bit put off about answering so many questions while trying to drink his tea. Mick gave Aodh time to finish his cup before starting up again. "So are we going to take them up on it?" Mick thought he must be bouncing up and down like a little schoolboy he was so enthused by the thought of true cruisers flying the Irish flag. "It is under review." Aodh managed to puncture Mick's happiness before quickly patching it "Right now, its the better deal. There are some strings attached, those need to be haggled over." "Well thank you for letting me know about this. If you will beg my pardon, I have some businesses to attend to." "Always nice to see you Mick." Aodh said as he left the office. "Aodh old boy, you do not know how helpful this is." he said to the walls of his office.