Stardust Inquests – Day 14 – Pen Portraits

David Morton – Alan Morton

My name is Alan Morton, I am David’s younger brother and only sibling and I will be representing my family today. We were a family of four, with my dad William or Bill as he preferred to be known and my mum Maura, heading the family.

Unfortunately, my father passed away a few years back and my mother also sadly passed away recently after being a resident of Highfield Healthcare and being in the late stages of Alzheimer’s.

David, or ‘Chesty’ as he was known to his mates was six years older than me, so from my perspective there was no getting away from the fact that he would always be the big brother and we were very much like chalk and cheese. David was football mad, and this is where he got the nickname ‘Chesty’ from, as I’m sure he was happier having a shirt covered in mud than having a dirty ball mess his mane of dark hair. From memory I believe he was a Chelsea supporter, as I remember having one of his tops handed down to me. Unfortunately, I was useless at football and left that reputation in David’s hands. David, like most teens was a challenge and my mum wasn’t afraid to give him a clip around the ear when needed. Whilst he may not have been an angel, his heart was in the right place. As the younger brother we didn’t always get on, but he was always there for me if needed. He did drive my parents round the bend, but what teenager doesn’t. I’ll always remember when he convinced me that our parents had gone out and we could go downstairs and watch late TV, only to get to the kitchen to see my mum in the living room. He quickly told me to hide under the kitchen table, said goodnight to my mum and proceeded to go back to bed leaving me hiding there until she eventually heard me and sent me to bed, which of course cracked David up as he once again created mischief. It was the 70’s, and every kid his age was quicky becoming a rebel and, being a parent myself, nothing prepares you for the life of a teenager. My parents, especially my mum, pushed David to stay on at school to get a good education and job.

However, he had other ideas. Whilst David attended St. David’s CBS, all he wanted to do was leave and get a job, any job. He was suddenly starting to have an interest in clothes, music and girls and knew the only way he could have these was with a job as things were tight back then for my parents. Plus, he’d driven some of the teachers to their wit’s end and I’m sure some were glad to see the back of him when he did leave. If mobile phones existed, I’m sure they’d have had my mum on speed dial. David was very sociable, and seemed to be well known, hopefully for all the right reasons, and this was always a benefit for me as everyone would know me as ‘Chesty’s’ little brother.

His first job as far as I can remember was helping the fruit & veg man who would come around. David loved this, and it gave him a sense of independence and some money in his pocket. It also gave him a chance to help support my mum. Soon after he got a job with Superquinn in Coolock shopping centre. He excelled here, and quicky got onto a management training course. He was in his element. David was very outgoing, confident, and charismatic. He went from strength to strength and very quickly began to realise his potential. He was popular with both the customers and his colleagues and quickly established a large friendship group. Having a few quid in his pocket suddenly opened-up new opportunities and a chance to do the things he wanted, one of which was going on holiday to Spain with his mates. This was a big deal, no more Butlin’s or leaky caravan’s, suddenly he could go abroad and actually get some sun!!

David was a huge ‘Bowie’ fan, and with his new job it allowed him to both style himself on his ‘hero’ but also collect the records, which I still have to this day. David loved the ladies; he was a handsome devil and knew it. He loved socialising, and the local pubs were his favourite watering holes where he’d happily meet his matesfor a pint. I’m sure if he wasn’t saving to go on holiday, every penny was spent on clothes, records, socialising and of course cigarettes and Marathon bars, which he’d have me get for him on a Sunday morning as he was usually too hungover to get upbefore dinner.

It’s funny, as I write this I keep thinking of David as being older than he was. He’d left school at 16 and started working straight away. He’d found purpose and had started to mature into a wonderful young man and yet was still a ‘teen’. My parents were proud of him, they’d seem him ‘grow-up’ and I suppose it was a relief for my mum as well. I’m sure David had plans to eventually settle down, but again, he was only 19 when he died and had a whole life ahead of him. I still remember him that night, getting ready and preening himself. I looked up to him and wanted to be as cool as he was. I wanted the clothes and the aftershave, even if it was Brute or Old Spice!!! I wanted to be able to stay out late. I wanted so much to be my big brother.

 

I’ll always remember the night my parents received news of a fire in the Stardust. I was woken by the sound of someone speaking downstairs. One of my brother’s friends had called at the house and informed my mum of what had happened. All I could hear was that there was a fire in the Stardust, David was seen, but remains missing and the panicked voice of my mum. I was too afraid to get up, to be honest I wasn’t really sure what was going on… and I was probably hoping it was a bad dream. My bed my next to the window and in the distance, I could hear the fire brigade engines. My parents were pacing the house and I had no idea what was going on. I have no idea how much time passed or even if I fell back to sleep, but when I eventually got the nerve to leave my bed it was all over the news and I never saw my parents look as scared and worried as they did that morning. David’s friends continued to call by the house to check if anything had developed as he was still identified as missing. He could even be in hospital. All I can remember is how busy the house became. My mum was in a state of worry/shock, my dad tried to be strong, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say. My parents basically shut-down that morning.

I have no idea of timelines, at some point, my parents had been contacted about identifying a body or at least identifying personal belongings. My brother wore a David’s star around his neck, and it was this item that was used to identify him. I’m sure my parents did everything they could to hold it together, but I could see the affect and impact it was having as the day/days progressed. Unfortunately, it’s very difficult for me to recall much more information as I know my parents did everything to try and shield me from what was happening. I do remember how supportive everyone was. The house was busy, but deep down the trauma of what had happened would unfold. I have no idea of the timeline from this point. It all became a blur. I was out of school I think for about 1-2 weeks… I have no memories of the funeral. However, when my father passed away, I found all the cuttings my mum had saved and it brought the whole thing back… I could see the traumatic effect it had on my parents just by their expressions. The turnout, not only for David’s funeral but for all the victims was testament to the impact this tragedy had on our community. I wish I could remember more about what happened, but it was so long ago I think the trauma has pushed it deep into my memory.

 

No parent ever wants to bury a child. We all try to be strong but no matter what, I don’t believe any parent will ever get over it. I know for a fact that the death of my brother destroyed my mum and of course my dad. Both tried to deal with it as best they could. Unfortunately, back then the support probably wasn’t what it’s like today.

The whole thing probably had an impact on me too, I just didn’t know it. I wanted to be strong for my parents, they wanted to be strong for me. My parents continued to do what they could for me, but I could see they had been seriously affected… I just didn’t understand it. I knew I no longer had a brother who would be there as I went through my teenage years… and as I got older, I really missed having a sibling I could chat to and reach out to when I couldn’t talk to my parents. I wanted a guardian who wasn’t a parent. I wanted a big brother. We all deal with trauma differently, but back then we dealt with the situation as best could be. My mum, bless her, tried her best. My dad struggled… being a typical Irishman that meant bottling everything up inside, and I suppose that was my approach as well. We would visit the grave every Sunday… I hated it… I didn’t understand, but deep down I wanted to support my parents. I believe it helped my parents, but in the long-term the overall impact, especially on my mum, was sad. She suffered from depression and I believe the trauma of what she went through was a catalyst for the impact it’s had on her health as she got older. My dad too never recovered either… he just lost interest and a pint was his way of trying to deal with it all. When my father passed away, I looked at before and after photographs. It was noticeable that my parents had lost their ‘spark’. They were functioning, and that’s all. They kept a brave face for me but as I got older, I could see the change and they never recovered. My mum always wanted to move, she hated having to be reminded every time she went near the Artane Castle. We knew some of the other families, so the reminders were always there. As I got older, I settled, eventually getting married and having my own children. I would have loved to have a brother they could call uncle or cousins for my own kids to know. I named my eldest after my brother, my son David is proud to carry his name and it helps me keep his memory alive. As my parents got older they had many health issues, especially my mum. Having a sibling to share concerns with would have been lovely, especially as my dad eventually suffered from depression and as I was UK-based this made things very difficult for me as I wanted him to be looked after. When he did pass away, I too believe I suffered from depression as I felt I wasn’t there enough for him and the struggles I had dealing with my mum’s Alzheimer’s and my dad’s spiralling health issues. In the early days of my mum’s Alzheimer’s, I always worried that she would start asking where David was, or she would remember what happened and having to try and deal with it. I believe this too had a negative effect on my own well-being. You begin to question your own ability to care for your parents and having no siblings I just felt I’d let them down.

I always think of my brother, when I return to Dublin I make every effort to visit the grave and have a chat… it’s not something that comes natural… The funny thing is I never ‘celebrated’ Valentine’s Day, even to this day it’s doesn’t interest me… luckily,I have an understanding wife.I wonder what he would be doing now. Would he have stayed in Ireland; would he have married? I’m sure my parents had the same thoughts. When Bowie died, the first thing I thought of was how David would have felt… would he have still been a fan!!

David, I miss you. We all miss you. We wish this tragic event never happened and our community did not have to experience something so terrible. You were 19!! My daughter is 19… she’s still a kid and so were you. You were my brother, my parents’ first-born, and you should still be here.

The fire and subsequent death of my brother destroyed my parents. However, I think the way the whole thing was just ‘pushed under the carpet’ was an insult to everyone who died and all those loved ones who were affected.

I just want someone to accept that what happened was a dreadful event that could have been avoided.

I want the memory of everyone who died to be remember and honoured and hopefully for all the families affected to get some closure. We can’t change our past, but we should learn and learn to accept that the way this was handled was wrong and could have been avoided.

Thank you.

Kathleen Muldoon – Hugh Muldoon

My name is Hugh Muldoon and my sister Kathleen Muldoon died in the Stardust

Fire. Kathleen was the eldest of ten children.

Kathleen was a very mature young girl and was very helpful to her family. Kathleen helped with many household chores. She was very good-natured, thoughtful and helpful at all times to her family. She got on very well with her parents and still acted as a teenager some days. Kathleen was very helpful with all of her younger brothers and sisters. She would help out with the cooking, cleaning and her siblings’ homework; all while she was going to school herself and doing her own studies. Kathleen got on well with all her school friends and went on social nights out. She loved football and music. She liked music from the band the Eagles and would go to concerts too. Kathleen always wanted to do nursing, which is why she was living in Dublin. My last memory of Kathleen is of us coming home from confession in Ballinlough with my dad. At the time, Kathleen had her own car.

We heard about the Stardust from the Guards in Kells. On that Saturday morning, the Guards came to the family home. The Guards in Kells were very helpful and supportive. Kathleen’s car was in a carpark in Coolock and she could not be found. My mother went to the local village and heard about a terrible fire that happened in Dublin, not realising at the time that her own daughter was in the fire. We had no house phone at the time. Kathleen’s remains were confirmed by her uncle a few days later. Kathleen’s funeral mass was in Ballinlough church. I served at the mass with my brother and one of our other brothers sang in the choir. This was the last day of church offering in the parish.

We received a lot of support from our extended family, friends and neighbours. A lot of people called to our family home in the months afterward. We returned to school two weeks later.

Life very much changed for everyone in our house that day. Going to a disco or a social event as difficult. Going anywhere indoors was a nerve-wrecking experience for our parents who would be waiting for you to come home in anticipation. Some members of the family are more comfortable speaking about Kathleen than others. The conversation is tougher for some than others and younger members of our family find it hard to remember.

In our family, Kathleen is remembered every day. Kathleen is remembered on her birthday, on Christmas, on her anniversary and at family events we miss her at. Kathleen would have pursued her career in nursing, got married and hard her own family. Looking after and caring for people is something she loved. Kathleen was a go-to person in our family growing up, and very helpful to her mother and father.

We, as a family, want the truth to come out as to what happened and why this has taken so long. Making television programmes about it and newspaper stories is no help to the families.

George O’Connor – Donna O’Connor

I had a big brother who was on this Earth for seventeen years, 10 months and 12 days. He may be just a ‘body number’ on the inquest list; but to us, he was the first born, a grandson, a big brother, a nephew, a cousin and a loyal friend to those who knew him.

And his name is George.

George was very much a homebody; quiet, reserved and not one for going out much- just like our dad. He was much adored by me, bring my best friend and closest in age (a mere 2 ó years apart), and also by our younger siblings (who were 7, 5 and 3 in 1981) who didn’t get the chance to make many memories if any. He was a huge science fiction fan and was always drawing, trying to replicate the spaceships from the comics and films of Star Wars, Star Trek, War of the Worlds among others. We still have many of his notebooks of these drawings. George was only starting out on life’s journey as an adult. He had gone as far as Leaving Cert in St Joseph’s CBS Fairview and had no interest in college, so got himself a part-time job out in the St Laurence Hotel in Howth, working with children which he loved; and as a family, we’d head there an odd Sunday to indulge in the carvery dinner and get extra special ‘desserts’ because we knew ‘the staff’. Then he managed to snag himself a job working in Superquinn in Northside Shopping Centre, walking distance from home and no shifts past 2100. He loved working there and made some lovely friends, who encouraged him to come out of his ‘shell’ and start to socialise. Sadly, the first dance he ever went to was also to be his last.

My memories over the years have faded to a point where when ever I try to remember, all that comes to mind is George getting ready for the dance, my mamironing his shirt, him drying his ‘afro’ hairstyle, and me critiquing his outfit and telling him no girl would ask him to dance dressed like he was.

Then, heading to bed with not a care in the world. Only to be woken by utter chaos… heading off with my dad and uncles to collect dental records and going into the Coroner’s courtroom to identify a clear plastic bag of clothes. The same outfit (what was left of it) I had mocked just a few hours before. Then over to the canteen in Busarus to wait for the dental records to be compared.

Being a shy and private fifteen-year-old at the time, the trauma I felt caused me towithdraw even further into myself and for a solid 10 years I couldn’t be around people if they started talking about George. So maybe I blocked my memories as a self-preservation tactic – But that is not to say that I and we do not think about him and miss him every single day. I wonder how very different all our lives would be if he were still here. What career path would he have taken, would he have married, had kids, stayed in Ireland or lived abroad…

When meeting new people, the question if I am the eldest always brings out the familiar furrow on my forehead and I never fail to ponder how to answer this question. What to say, I wonder silently. I am or I’m not – yes, or no? Sadly, I was thrust into that unwanted position of ‘eldest’ which was never meant to be my birth right.

Brendan O’Meara – Jimmy O’Meara

Brendan O’Meara was my brother. He was 23 and I was 21 when he died. We had an older brother and sister. Margaret was the eldest, followed by John, then our Brendan, and then me.

Brendan and myself were on the same darts and football teams. He was a brilliant Irish dancer: he was at an international standard. We had the same group of friends, growing up, and a good few of them were killed in that fire. We were all into all the music that was out at that time. My father went to England to work when Mam was pregnant, and he never came back. My mother reared us, and she worked hard all her life. We had no father, but we stuck together. Brendan wasn’t quiet and he wasn’t loud either. He would help anybody out in any way he could. He was very obliging and very decent. Nobody had a bad word to say about him. He was a good, honest, and decent fella. He was working as a driver at the time of his death, making deliveries that day. Brendan was awarded for being the best dressed when he was in the army. He never had a hair out of place. Brendan was always spotlessly groomed and wore the best clobber. When I had come home that evening, I had seen that he had got new clobber.

On the night of the fire, Brendan invited me to go with him to the Stardust. He asked me if I was alright for a few bob. I didn’t go with him to the Stardust that night because I was exhausted after work. I had been on the road since half four that morning.

In the early hours of the morning, I was asleep on the sofa when I was wakened by two of the other lads. They were all black and covered in cuts. They had a taxi waiting outside. They told me about the fire and then we went to the Stardust in the taxi.

The taxi man didn’t charge us. When we got there, we saw bodies covered and brought out on stretchers. People that survived it were outside as well, sitting with blankets. They were all in shock, after seeing it first-hand. We couldn’t find him there, so we went to all the hospitals. First Jervis Street hospital, then the Mater hospital, then St James’s hospital. We had to come home because we didn’t know what else to do at that point except to check if Brendan had come home.

When we got home, Mam was up, and our neighbours were in the house. We decided to go to the city morgue, and we gave his description. We were speaking to a priest first, and then a Guard said that someone who matched his description was over in Jervis Street hospital. I stayed at the morgue and my brother John went to the hospital and came back. It was a relief that we had found our brother.

We went to see him in Jervis Street hospital, and he had black streaks down his back from melted burns. They had him lying on his front in a coma. His face looked sort of sunburnt and I think something had fallen on his leg. We were taking turns to go up to hospital and then to go to funerals. You would be stood in the graveyard waiting on two or three funerals per day. There were hearses with caskets lined up. Brendan died 10 days later, on the 25th of February, after they amputated his leg. They were going to take his hand too.I can’t remember my own brother’s funeral. I think there were some army men at the Mass. I only remember smidgens at the graveside and can’t remember where we went afterwards.

My Mam, Bridget, would still set the table for Brendan, even after he had died. It was very upsetting, as the terrible reality would, then, hit her again. I still feel so helpless thinking of him lying in hospital on his front. The thought of him lying there, so heavily sedated. It’s like it’s tattooed onto my brain. It’s so plain to see and it’s so vivid. It’s a vision that will never leave me.

I felt survivor’s guilt. You blame yourself. We would have escaped together if I’d been there. You’d have to experience that to know how it makes you feel. It stayed with me for years and years and I still have that burden to this day. It’s just that everyone was so young there. There were a lot of teenagers. It’s hard when anyone goes but the lads that I knew that died were only 20 or 21 years old. There were a good few girls too, like Paula Byrne. It’s hard to take in the reality that you’re not going to see them again. I took it hard at the time. I was drinking. It was a very lonely time. I still think about Brendan every day. I have three girls and two boys. My youngest girl, Becky, is the image of my brother, Brendan. I often think about what we would be up to now. I’d say Brendan would have been a brilliant father.

I have been dreading the start of these inquests because we have been hurt and disappointed repeatedly. It’s painful to do this. You think to yourself, ‘what’s the point in putting yourself through it? Are we going to be let down yet again?’. We need answers.

Brendan O’Meara – Margaret Smith and John O’Meara

Margaret

Apart from all the treasured childhood memories engraved in my heart of my beloved brother Brendan, I could never have imagined the support he showed me when I had my own children. Brendan became part of my own family’s everyday lives. He always arranged his lunch hour to be free to collect my young children from school or mind my baby while I collected them. In the early 70s, my husband was in the army and if he had to do 24 hours guard duty or if he was confined to barracks, Brendan would stay in my house to mind us. He served time in the motor squadron himself and achieved ‘best soldier award’ because of his meticulous appearance. Brendan was a very handsome young man and was always the best dressed in our family. He used to get his suits dry cleaned weekly. When he collected them, he’d iron the crease which the hanger left on the leg of his trousers and leave them lying flat until he wore them. When he did go out socialising, you could smell his scent of aftershave nearly an hour after he had left.

Unfortunately, the Stardust fire robbed us of our wonderful, exceptional, selfless brother. Our lives have never been fulfilled without Brendan’s presence. My daughter made her communion in 1981 and to this very day I have no recollection of this once-in-a-lifetime event. Forty-two years ago our family lives were changed forever.

My children were deprived of sharing their lives with their Uncle Brendan and making their own memories with him. We relive the heartache of losing Brendan, not only at the Stardust anniversary, but on a daily basis. Forever in all our hearts our beloved Brendan.

John

Brendan was my buddy as well as my brother because there was not much between our ages, and we always maintained a great relationship between us. Brendan’s favourite sport and mine was darts, and we represented our local pub in darts. He was a very good player and also a very popular fella with all the lads. Brendan was our anchor-man on the team. That means we kept him back near the end of the games because we could always depend on him winning and of course, after each game we always had a sing-song. Brendan loved the ballads and got it going with his favourite, ‘Fiddlers Green’. It would be the same song every week, so everyone joined in because we all knew the words. I still carry some great memories of those dart nights.

I miss Brendan very much still. I look at his photos as he was then. He was just 23- years-old when we lost him, and I wonder what he would look like today. I look at myself now. I am in my 60s and my hair is grey, and I think to myself ‘he’d probably look just like me’. I still talk to Brendan at his graveside and tell him I will treasure all my memories I have of him.