A group of 20 Irish immigrants, suspected of comprising a secret terrorist organization called the "Molly Maguires", were executed in Pennsylvania in the 1870s for the murder of 16 men. This work offers a new interpretation of their dramatic story, tracing the origins of the Molly Maguires to Ireland and explaining the growth of a particular structure of meaning.

In the 1879's a group of Pennsylvania coal miners struggled to secure their rights amidst a hostile group of mine owners and railroad owners who used unfair tactics which resulted in sending the miners to the gallows.

An “incisive and original” history of the 19th-century Irish secret society that instigated America’s first labor wars in Pennsylvania Coal Country (Peter Quinn, author of Looking for Jimmy). A secret society of Irish peasant assassins, the Molly Maguires reemerged in Pennsylvania’s hard-coal region, organizing strikes, murdering mine bosses, and fighting the Civil War draft. Their shadowy twelve-year battle with coal companies marked the beginning of class warfare in America. But little has been written about the origins of this struggle or the peculiar rites, traditions, and culture of the Mollies. The Sons of Molly Maguire delves into the lost world of peasant Ireland to uncover the links between the folk justice of the Mollies and the folk drama of the Mummers—a group known in America today for their annual New Year’s parade in Philadelphia. The historic link not only explains much about Ireland’s Mollies—why the killers wore women’s clothing, why they struck around holidays—but also sheds new light on the Mollies’ re-emergence in Pennsylvania. When the Irish arrived in the anthracite coal region, they brought along their ethnic, religious, and political conflicts. Just before the Civil War, a secret society emerged, as did an especially political form of Mummery. Resurrected amid wartime strikes and conscription, the American Mollies would become a bastion of labor activism.

On June 21, 1877, ten Irish-Americans were executed in the mining areas of Pennsylvania. All were accused of being members of a terror-ist group called the Molly Maguires, and all were convicted of planning and carrying out the murder of a number of mining officials. Ten more Irish-Americans were executed in Pennsylvania in the next 18 months on the same charges. One of the men executed on June 21, 1877, was Alexander Campbell, grand-uncle of the author. The Molly Maguire executions generated a great deal of contro-versy in Pennsylvania from the 1870s to the present, with Irish-Americans claiming the Mollies were framed by the mine owners, while some other ethnic. groups believe that they were guilty as charged and deserved the punishment they received. The author first heard about the execution of his grand-uncle back in the late 1940s in Dungloe, County Donegal, Ireland, and in the early 1970s, while living in New Jersey, began a fifteen year investiga-tion into the entire Molly Maguire controversy in order to determine if Alexander Campbell was guilty or innocent. A Molly Maguire Story is an account of that investigation."

Located near the southern edge of the Pennsylvania anthracite, the town of St. Clair in the early half of the 19th century seemed to be perfectly situated to provide fuel to the iron and steel industry that was the heart of the Industrial Revolution in America. It was a time of unprecedented promise and possibility for the region, and yet, in the years between 1830 and 1880, only grandiose illusions flourished there. St. Clair itself succumbed early on to a devastating economic blight, one that would in time affect anthracite mining everywhere. In this dramatic work of social history, Anthony F. C. Wallace re-creates St. Clair in those years when expectations collided with reality, when the coal trade was in chronic distress, exacerbated by the epic battles between the forces of labor and capital. As he did in his Bancroft Prize-winning Rockdale, Wallace uses public records and private papers to reconstruct the operation of an anthracite colliery and the life of a working-man’s town totally dependent upon it. He describes the labor hierarchy of the collieries, the communal spirit that sprang up in the outlying mine patches, the polyglot immigrant life in the taverns and churchs, and the workingmen’s societies that provided identity to the miners and gave relief to families in distress. He examines the birth of the first effective miners’ union and documents the escalating antagonism between Irish immigrant workers—mostly Catholic—and the Protestant middle classes who owned the collieries. Wallace reveals the blindness, greed, and self-congratulation of the mine owners and operators. These “heroes” of the entrepreneurial wars disregarded geologists’ warnings that the coal seams south of St. Clair were virtually inaccessible and, at best, extremely costly to mine, and then blamed their economic woes on the lack of a high tariff on imported British iron. To cut costs, they ignored the most basic and safety engineering practices and then blamed “the careless miner” and “Irish hooligans” for the catastrophic accidents that resulted. In thrall to a great dream of wealth and power, they plunged ahead to bankruptcy while the miners paid with their lives. St. Clair is a rich and illuminating work of scholarship—an engrossing portrait of a disaster-prone industry (a portrait that stands as a sober warning to the nuclear-power industry) and of the tragic hubris of a ruling class that brough ruin upon a Pennsylvania coal town at a crucial moment in its history.

South-west Donegal, Ireland, June 1856. From the time that the blight first came on the potatoes in 1845, armed and masked men dubbed Molly Maguires had been raiding the houses of people deemed to be taking advantage of the rural poor. On some occasions, they represented themselves as 'Molly's Sons', sent by their mother, to carry out justice; on others, a man attired as a woman, introducing 'herself' as Molly Maguire, demanding redress for wrongs inflicted on her children. The raiders might stipulate the maximum price at which provisions were to be sold, warn against the eviction of tenants, or demand that an evicted family be reinstated to their holding. People who refused to meet their demands were often viciously beaten and, in some instances, killed -- offences that the Constabulary classified as 'outrages'. Catholic clergymen regularly denounced the Mollies and in 1853, the district was proclaimed under the Crime and Outrage (Ireland) Act. Yet the 'outrages' continued. Then, in 1856, Patrick McGlynn, a young schoolmaster, suddenly turned informer on the Mollies, precipitating dozens of arrests. Here, a history of McGlynn's informing, backlit by episodes over the previous two decades, sheds light on that wave of outrage, its origins and outcomes, the meaning and the memory of it. More specifically, it illuminates the end of 'outrage' -- the shifting objectives of those who engaged in it, and also how, after hunger faded and disease abated, tensions emerged in the Molly Maguires, when one element sought to curtail such activity, while another sought, unsuccessfully, to expand it. And in that contention, when the opportunities of post-Famine society were coming into view, one glimpses the end, or at least an ebbing, of outrage -- in the everyday sense of moral indignation -- at the fate of the rural poor. But, at heart, The End of Outrage is about contention among neighbours -- a family that rose from the ashes of a mode of living, those consumed in the conflagration, and those who lost much but not all. Ultimately, the concern is how the poor themselves came to terms with their loss: how their own outrage at what had been done unto them and their forbears lost malignancy, and eventually ended. The author being a native of the small community that is the focus of The End of Outrage makes it an extraordinarily intimate and absorbing history.