From Cork-made grenades to Sonia’s running shoes, John Creedon’s new TV series tells the social history of the nation, writes Richard Fitzpatrick.

Barry Curtain is one of the thousands of contributors to the National Treasures project, day one of which was held on the grounds of University College Cork.

He brought along a grenade, as part of a nationwide trawl to find objects that tell Ireland’s social history over the last century.

Curtain’s grenade has some story. It was made in a bomb-making factory near Watergrasshill, Co Cork, from a mould created by sympathetic workers in the Ford’s factory during Ireland’s War of Independence around 1919.

The clandestine foundry, which was 35ft long by 9ft wide and 9ft high, had 3ft of earth tossed over it to hide it. Right up until the truce in July 1921, it churned out grenades — up to 90 a night — which were smuggled into Cork city in bags of potatoes.

The National Treasures project, which will be broadcast in a four-part television series on RTÉ One and will culminate in an exhibition at the Country Life museum in Castlebar, Co Mayo, is the brainchild of David Clarke and Ciaran Deeney of EZ Films.

Clarke and Deeney put in a phone call to the National Museum’s keeper, Tony Candon, with their pitch: invite members of the Irish public to bring along the interesting, personal objects they’ve hoarded in attics or kept on display in their mantelpieces, and then archive and exhibit them.

It’s resulted in a remarkable collection, gathered by curators over four days in Cork, Belfast, Galway and Dublin, as well as by roving historians in rural areas.

“The four provinces all brought a slightly different shading,” says John Creedon, the TV show’s

presenter.

“In Belfast, we didn’t have shipbuilding and Harland and Wolff funnily enough but we had the conflict big-time. Our fashion history expert was presented with an amazing item from a former H-Block prisoner on the ‘dirty blanket protest’ in Long Kesh.

“When he was released he managed to bring his blanket with him. He brought it to a dressmaker in Newry who fashioned it into a classy-looking suit, using it for the trim on the lapels and as a dicky bow and scarf. He disempowered this whole blanket. It has gone from a symbol of cruelty and conflict to high-end fashion.

“In Cork, you obviously had some of the iconic stuff. Rory Gallagher and Sonia O’Sullivan appear, but it wasn’t like they were shoehorned in. They were just very interesting items that came in; for example, Christy Ring is not in it, but could have been — his family brought his hurling medals.”

Creedon says the whole selection process is fairly subtle. “Because clearly we have the history of Ireland. We have the dates. We have the framework, but what this was about was colouring in the story. Things as innocuous as your Italia ’90 jersey or your parking permit for the Pope’s visit to the Phoenix Park. It’s first hand.”

In Connacht, there was one man who arrived with a boat. “He brought it in on a trailer to us! It was exclusive — not just to the Corrib, but to the northern shores of Lough Corrib; it was specifically designed to suit the water and terrain up there. It’s a kind of Viking design.

“In Dublin, there was a lot of rock history. The curators were looking at posters for concerts at Slane Castle, gigs at the Olympia, Bill Haley and His Comets at the Savoy.

“There was one woman opened her purse to show me a letter her father had been given to get across Dublin city centre during the Troubles, signed by a British Army officer because he was a tram driver. It was like: ‘Please assure this man safe passage,’ and was dated and signed by — whoever it was — Captain Reginald Ramsbottom. You hold it in your hand and realise it’s been in somebody’s chocolate box or top drawer for a hundred years.”

Some of the backstories are fascinating. Bill Smith brought along his great-grandfather’s silver cigarette box. He was working in Mangan’s jewellery store in Cork. During the War of Independence, the Black’n’ Tans sacked his building, chasing him through it. They shot at him, but he survived the attack. Several bullets lodged, however, in his

cigarette box.

There are so many charming objects gathered, including Sonia O’Sullivan’s running shoes from the Barcelona 92 Olympics, which were brought along by her father, and an original Turkish Delight box from Hadji Bey’s erstwhile shop on Cork’s MacCurtain St.

There are several chilling items, too. Thomas Wall has some startling documents that he salvaged from St Joseph’s Industrial School in Glin, Co Limerick, before the school’s contents were destroyed in 1973.

One document details how when children — who were often scooped up from the streets of Limerick because they didn’t have their parents with them — were finished at the industrial school, they had to go to work for three years, remitting their wages back to the industrial school’s manager.

All the boys received in return were food, lodgings and clothing. They weren’t allowed to get

married, to visit cinemas or public houses.

“It was a slave document,” says Wall to one of the programme’s curators, who in turn reads aloud from the indentured contract in Dickensian tones: “During which term the said Apprentice his Master faithfully shall serve, his Secrets keep.”

All of which illustrates the importance of a show like this. Episode 1 of National Treasures will be broadcast on RTÉ One, 6.30pm, Sunday, April 8. nationaltreasures.ie