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    From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois
    From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois
    From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois
    Ebook171 pages1 hour

    From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois

    By John J. Dunphy

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    Journey to a region where all the perennials are said to bloom at midnight on Christmas Eve and where a family's luck is determined by the first person to walk through their door on New Year's Day. Spend a literary Christmas in Herrin, listen to the twelve bells of Belleville ring out the coming year and greet the Three Kings of Germantown at Epiphany. Whether you are a newcomer to southern Illinois or whether you feel like you have been singing "La Guiannee" since the tradition started in Prairie du Rocher in 1720, join John J. Dunphy for a season of sacred memories and merry recollections.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThe History Press
    Release dateNov 26, 2010
    ISBN9781614232537
    From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois
    Author

    John J. Dunphy

    Born in Alton, Illinois, and now residing in the village of Godfrey, John J. Dunphy is a summa cum laude graduate of Southern Illinois University-Edwardsville and attended that university's graduate school on an academic fellowship. He taught writing at Lewis and Clark Community College for almost a decade and conducts numerous writers' workshops. Dunphy's books include Lewis and Clark's Illinois Volunteers and Unsung Heroes of the Dachau Trials: The Investigative Work of the U.S. Army 7708 War Crimes Group, 1945-1947, as well as two books for Arcadia/The History Press: From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois and Abolitionism and the Civil War in Southwestern Illinois. His poetry collections include Touching Each Tree, Stellar Possibilities and Dark Nebulae. He writes a weekly column for the (Alton, IL) Telegraph. He has owned the Second Reading Book Shop in Alton since 1987. The book shop's location served as an Underground Railroad station. Visit John J. Dunphy on Facebook.

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      From Christmas to Twelfth Night in Southern Illinois - John J. Dunphy

      Author

      Introduction

      I attribute my passion for folklore to two factors: my great-uncle, who possessed an Irishman’s gift for storytelling, and my good fortune in being a native of the folklore cornucopia that is southern Illinois. Uncle Joe, assistant editor of the Alton Evening Telegraph, introduced me to the customs and beliefs of the old-time Irish and kept me regaled for hours with tales of magic and mystery. He also encouraged me to pursue writing as a career by explaining his work at the newspaper while taking me on tours of the Telegraph. I still remember those huge, noisy printing presses, the clacking of countless manual typewriters and desks with rotary phones that rang incessantly.

      I absorbed Uncle Joe’s Irish stories, as well as his accounts of local history and lore, like a sponge soaks up water. As I grew older, I began to realize the historical and cultural richness that lay beyond Alton and its stretch of the Mississippi, popularly known as the River Bend. One could follow the river south to the old French Colonial District and see where European settlement of Illinois had begun. Towns such as Cahokia, Kaskaskia and Prairie du Rocher had been founded by French soldiers and pioneers, passed into British hands at the conclusion of the French and Indian War and became part of the fledgling United States with the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1783. But the traditional French ways lingered, kept alive by residents who were proud of their region’s Gallic heritage.

      Later, I began to study the deep southern Illinois region known as Egypt. The old ways lingered there as well, although different in custom and lore than those found in the French communities. Egypt had been settled by families of English and Scots-Irish stock who had migrated from Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia and the Carolinas. A smattering of other ethnic groups further enriched the cultural potpourri.

      I discovered the works of Vance Randolph while a student at the Edwardsville campus of Southern Illinois University and remember being astounded by the sheer volume of lore he collected during his years of fieldwork in the Ozark country of Missouri and Arkansas. Randolph stressed the futility of trying to gather folklore by distributing questionnaires or running old-timer columns in newspapers. If one is serious about learning a region’s legend and lore, he maintained, one must live among that region’s people.

      That assertion made sense to me. But I loved living in the River Bend. Besides, many—perhaps most—of the beliefs and customs that so intrigued me had vanished in much of southern Illinois. I needed to connect with older southern Illinoisans, as well as family members with whom they had shared their stories. But how?

      I soon learned the importance of networking. My mantra became, Connect with as many people as you possibly can and let them know what you’re seeking. Although some stories and tidbits began to come my way, I wasn’t terribly successful until 1979, when I became a regular at Crivello’s Book Shop in downtown Alton. Bookshop patrons are always an interesting bunch and come from widely divergent backgrounds. I began to hear some great stuff.

      Renamed the Second Reading when it changed hands in 1985, I purchased the bookshop in 1987 and kept it open seven days a week. Now folks knew where to find me at any given time, and the volume of folklore I heard increased greatly. I had begun writing for publication in the early 1980s, just about the time that Gary DeNeal co-founded Springhouse, a magazine devoted to everything southern Illinois—particularly its history and folklore. Illinois Magazine, a downstate literary institution, had changed hands and was seeking new contributors. I began freelancing for both periodicals, and some of the folklore I had collected found its way into print. The 1990s saw my articles on southern Illinois folklore appear in publications such as Country Living and the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.

      I have loved Christmas since childhood and delighted in collecting and writing about the folklore of that enchanted season. I noticed last year that the file containing my Christmas articles was bulging. Time to put them into a book, I thought.

      There was no question in my mind that such a work should also include the celebration of New Year’s and Twelfth Night. A nineteenth-century scholar wrote that Christmas Day was the morning of the season; New Year’s Day the middle of it, or noon; Twelfth Night is the night. I’ve always agreed with that assessment and have no desire to shortchange readers in relating an account of the Christmas season in southern Illinois.

      Some of the traditions you will read about apparently no longer exist, such as the observance of Old Christmas. Others, such as the singing of La Guiannée on New Year’s Eve, are alive and well, thanks to the efforts of southern Illinoisans who recognize the importance of preserving our region’s cultural heritage. And you can be one of them, gentle readers. All that’s required is an appreciation of the region’s rich legend and lore and a willingness to keep one’s eyes and ears open. I believe there are many more treasures just waiting to be rediscovered.

      A special thank-you to Sharon Schaefer of Alton’s Hayner Public Library, Norma Walker of the St. Clair County Historical Society and Joan Young of the Germantown Public Library for their invaluable research assistance. I am also grateful to Susie Hurford Roth, Gene Haller and Don Floyd for sharing their Christmas memories with me.

      Emily Lyons provided photos of the Legend of the Lilies procession at the Immaculate Conception Church in Kaskaskia, while Mary Koester has a plethora of photos of La Guiannée and the Kings’ Ball. My thanks to the Illinois Historical Preservation Agency and Jarrot Mansion State Historic Site for providing photos of the Jarrot Mansion. All other photos were taken by the author. Dwight Phillips lent his tech support in preparing this book and its photos for electronic submission. Of course, I could accomplish little without the love and support of my wonderful wife, Loretta.

      Christmas Candles

      For most Americans, a candle in the front window during the Christmas season is simply another holiday decoration. For Americans of Irish descent, however, it’s part of our history—a beacon of religious liberty that symbolizes a nation’s defiance in the face of persecution. I was about six when my great-uncle, Joe Dromgoole, related the story of the candles in the windows. I can still hear the lilt in his voice as he told me how the Irish had started the Yuletide window-candle tradition.

      When England ruled Ireland many years ago, he said, its cruel penal code prohibited the Irish from practicing the rites of their Catholic faith. Priests were driven underground and were forced to say the Mass in forests and caves. Some courageous families, however, chose to flout the code and invited priests to say Mass in their homes. Uncle Joe said that every family especially wanted to attend Mass on Christmas Eve, so the wily Irish cooked up a scheme that would enable them to celebrate this holy night right under the noses of their English oppressors.

      A family that wanted one of the priests who surreptitiously roamed the countryside to celebrate Mass in its home would place a lighted candle in the window. A passing priest would recognize the signal, and the fortunate family would hear a knock at the door.

      Uncle Joe smiled as he told me that the Irish assured the inquisitive English that these window candles were but a revered and harmless tradition. On Christmas Eve, the story went, the Irish recalled the journey of Joseph and Mary in search of shelter in Bethlehem. While there was no room at the inn, a welcoming candle in the window showed that the Irish always had room in their homes as well as their hearts.

      Placing a lighted candle in the window on Christmas Eve is an old Irish custom that many immigrants brought with them to the United States.

      Pure Irish blarney! Uncle Joe said. Oh, it’s true enough that the Irish are the kind of people who would have welcomed the Holy Family with open arms. They would have put them up in the best room of their home rather than in some drafty old stable, according to him.

      But those candles had nothing to do with mere sentimentality, Uncle Joe informed me. The practice was born of necessity so that a persecuted people could quietly defy their conquerors and observe their religion without endangering themselves.

      Even after the Irish had won the right to attend Mass openly, the practice of placing candles in windows on Christmas Eve persisted and took root in the United States among people of all nationalities and Christian denominations. When you see candles in windows at Christmas, he concluded, remember what the Irish had to go through and how lucky you are to be an American.

      Uncle Joe passed away in 1981, but his stories remain. And whenever I see window candles at Christmas, I am reminded of the religious liberty we enjoy.

      Uncle Joe’s niece—my mother—also lighted a candle at Christmas, but it was placed on a table rather than in a front window. And it couldn’t be just any type of candle. It had to be a bayberry. She and her mother had begun this tradition during the Great Depression. Burning a bayberry candle on Christmas Eve is supposed to bring good luck to a household, my mother explained to me as a child. During those hard times, Mom and I thought we could use all the good luck we could get!

      Sometimes, though, money was too tight to afford a candle. Traditions are nice, she said, but when you have to choose between tradition and food… And then she would laugh.

      When she lighted the candle in our home, Mom would recite an old rhyme about what a bayberry candle on Christmas supposedly did: A bayberry candle burned to the socket puts food in the pantry and money in the pocket. But if it hadn’t burned to the socket by the time we were ready to go to bed, out it went. Mother was a cautious woman, and tradition always took a back seat to safety.

      During the Vietnam War, our bayberry candle served two functions: it blessed our household and served as a reminder of our troops overseas. As

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