You're listening to American Shadows, a production of I Heart Radio and Greyman, and from Aaron Minkey. Their people were starving, the kingdom had invaded their country in 1071 and taken their land, forced a new religion on them and decimated their culture. For centuries after the people worked the kingdoms, fields or suffered the consequences, they were forced to pay high taxes and export their butter honey livestock and crops while their own families died of malnutrition and flat out starvation.

In fact, during times of famine, the kingdom demanded even higher exports. They had no say in political matters, nor were they allowed a voice concerning their land or rights, their nationality was looked down on and they lived in extreme poverty by a combination of design and disregard. In short, the people of Ireland were inconsequential to England. The Irish who immigrated to Britain were forced to live in the poor rundown sections of the cities they moved to, like Liverpool, they were physically attacked, banned from entering pubs and refused employment.

The great hunger, as it's known, started in Ireland in 1840 and lasted into the early eighteen fifties. The primary food England allowed them to keep the potato suffered a blight that wiped out close to 70 percent of the crop. Desperate, the people pleaded with the kingdom for mercy and for help. But those requests went unanswered. Before long, a million people had died of starvation or disease brought on by malnutrition without a means to fight back. Many survivors fled their homeland, sparking the largest migration in history.

One million Irish boarded ships so unseaworthy, overcrowded and understocked with supplies that they were dubbed coffin ships. Disease tore through the densely packed ships, destroying families even further. The dead were tossed overboard so often that it said sharks learned to follow the boats. Food and water were scarce during the six week trip, and there was only seawater for bathing and buckets for toilets, traumatised and penniless. The Irish arrived on U.S. soil. They weren't looking for the American dream, just the basics, food and shelter.

They'd been kept uneducated and unskilled. And now Americans made it clear that they weren't welcome in their new home either. The new immigrants spoke a different language, Gaelic and practiced a different religion. They were called no nothings scorned and ridiculed, help wanted signs often read Irish need not apply. No one else accepted them, and so they clung together. Ireland had been stripped from their lives, but not their hearts. After all that stared down death for so long that survived the unspeakable.

But now an idea was forming. There's something in each of us worth fighting for. Dying for the Irish. We're willing to risk everything once more. Death was inevitable. It was what they did with their lives and ultimately mattered. After centuries of persecution and oppression, a group of Irish settlers were willing to give everything to a cause greater than themselves. But as they were about to find out, sometimes the hardest battles are fought from within. I'm Lauren Bacall.

Welcome to American Chateaux. It was a revolution in the making. More than 200000 Irish immigrants enlisted to fight in the civil war despite the anti Irish sentiment against them. And when the war ended in 1865, they came away with something powerful military experience.

Back in 1858, still shunned from American communities. A group of Irish immigrants had created the Fenian Brotherhood founders John Mahoney and Michael Delaney named the organization after Fionna legendary Irish fighters. If no one else would help them free their land and people, then they'd do it on their own.

Collectively, they made plans toward igniting a revolution back home in Ireland. However, Ireland was an ocean away, so they focused on British ruled Canada instead, if they could control British areas, they could negotiate their freedom back home. The border between the United States and Canada was still mostly wild with dense forests that would help conceal them. And so the Fenian raids on British troops began in earnest in 1866 and lasted for more than five years. Not all the Fenians agreed with this tactic, though a handful sought a more peaceful solution, marching, they said, might spur a movement, but the majority were less convinced.

After all, England had shown no compassion or empathy and 11 seventy nor the centuries that followed. Now, they believed that the only way to gain their freedom from British rule was to do exactly as the Americans had to fight back. Despite the uncertainty and divide, members of the Brotherhood traveled from as far as the bayous of Louisiana to Buffalo, New York, did attack from there, plus other locations like Illinois, Wisconsin and Vermont along the St. Lawrence River.

After that, they'd invade the Niagara Peninsula, sabotage the WELLON Canal, connecting Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and then occupy what was then called Canada West, now known as Ontario. Along the way, they conquer major transportation centers used by the British and after that taken the troops hostage and gained control, their negotiations with England would begin. Their demands were simple. They would hand over British controlled Canada only in exchange for Ireland's freedom. A few Fenians held hope that the attack might start another war between the United States and Great Britain, the Americans knew what living under British rule had been like.

After all, a war might force England to send considerable troops to America, leaving the British weaker against rebellion in Ireland. It was a solid plan, except for a key problem, the large training gatherings of wild Irish, as they were derogatorily called, hadn't gone unnoticed. In fact, British spies that easily infiltrated the Fenian camps. Before long, the British authorities in Canada were aware of the Brotherhood's every move.

Oblivious to the trap they were walking into, the Fenian set out on June 1st from Buffalo crossing the Niagara River after passing over the border, they camped near old Fort Erie before making their way to Ridgeway. The next day, they're awaiting them, where 800 British militiamen led by one Lieutenant Colonel Booker. For all of their intel, the British were still outnumbered, the Fenians had 12 hundred fighters, but those eight hundred British carried repeating rifles, whereas the Irish had only muskets.

The conflict between the two sides raged for hours in the surrounding woods, the past when the thunder of hooves alarmed both sides. Each fearing their opponent had brought in Calvary, both sides fled the battlefield, but it wasn't the Calvary. All that gunfire had spooked a herd of grazing horses in a nearby field. In a panic, they had bolted from their pasture and ran wildly through the woods. With the British gone, the Irish fighters stood alone at the field's edge.

They'd captured Ridgeway and it was a victory. But the Fenians had suffered injuries and casualties in no position to withstand a larger attack. The fighters turned back and headed for the river. Their luck changed after that, though, at the American border, U.S. authorities apprehended 700 of them. And in another clash near Fort Erie, the British surprised the Fenians by arriving in boats and surrounding them. Those who weren't captured took refuge in nearby houses. The final blow came when the remaining fighters returned to Buffalo on the night of June 3rd.

There, the disheartened Fenians were all arrested. In just two days, their quest for freedom was over, but that didn't mean they gave up. Far from it. The Fenian Brotherhood would live on to fight under other names. In response to the attacks, the British created a secret police force with a mission to penetrate Irish organisations. They also made improvements to the Canadian militia concerned about threats from the Irish fighters on Canadian borders. Along with growing fear regarding American economics, the Dominion of Canada was formed as a nation in 1867.

In a roundabout way, it was the Irish who helped make it possible. But their struggle continued. Soon after those failed raids on Canada, one Fenian named Thomas Darsey McGee switched sides, denouncing the Brotherhood and moving to Canada. There, he tried to convince his fellow Irishman to work with the British Protestants. His efforts didn't go over well, though. On April 7th of 1868, McGee was fatally shot. Most accounts blame the assassination on the Fenians, although some suspect the British had something to do with it.

Undaunted, the Irish kept fighting and continued to carry out more of those raids over in Canada. But the death of McGee wouldn't be the last bit of intrigue. Fenians would face, and it was all about to get worse. In 1882, Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin took a position at Chicago's Cook County Hospital. He settled in nicely, becoming an active member of the Irish community. He gave to a multitude of local charities and he sang in the Catholic Cathedral on State Street.

Dr. Cronin's commitment didn't stop there, though, he joined another organization, the clan, the Gaile, they began as an offshoot of the Fenians in 1867, and just like their predecessors plan, Niggled dedicated itself to Irish freedom, instantly popular with Irish communities. Their numbers swelled to more than 40000 by the late 1980s. Dr. Cronin was a busy and ambitious man. His dedication to the group allowed him to rise quickly through its ranks, something their then current leader, Alexander Sullivan, wasn't too thrilled about.

While Kronen was well liked for being middle of the road, Sullivan was more of a polarizing and radical figure. For example, Sullivan had championed the dynamite campaign from 1881 through 1885, convincing young Irish Americans to travel to England to plant explosives at a number of prominent locations, including the Tower of London, Houses of Parliament and the London Bridge. Under Sullivan's leadership, 25 attacks targeting government, military police and infrastructure were carried out. Those bombs killed more than 80 people, including three bombers and a young child.

But somehow the British police managed to quickly locate and arrest every single one of the surviving bombers ever, the moderate Dr. Cronin loudly condemned these attacks and tension between him and Sullivan grew. The conflict intensified when Cronan began to suspect Sullivan of embezzling money from the fund set up to assist the families of the bombers to the tune of a hundred thousand dollars. That's the equivalent of more than two and a half million dollars. Today, Cronin confronted Sullivan, who adamantly denied the accusations.

Cronan that went public, which clearly made Sullivan less than happy. His retribution was swift. Sullivan accused Cronan of treason against the organization and then immediately ordered a trial handpicking five men for the panel. And one of the men was not only one of Sullivan's closest associates, he was also a senior detective on the Chicago police force. Another panel member was Amarilla Carroll, a Frenchman who'd sided with the Irish fighters since the days of the Canadian invasions and was solidly Camp Sullivan.

Cronin didn't trust either man any more than he did. Sullivan, with the panel skewed in Sullivan's favor, the outcome should be no surprise. They found Cronan guilty and expelled him from the organization in the spring of 1885. For Sullivan, the problem seemed to be solved, except that Kronin had made quite the impression on a lot of the other members, and his expulsion divided them deeply splitting plan the into two factions.

Meanwhile, public resentment of the attacks damaged the reputation of Irish Americans so bitterly that for three years, members of Clan Gael and other cities made attempts to reconcile them.

During a convention in Buffalo in June of 1898, local representatives agreed to review the evidence that Cronan had collected against Sullivan. This time, Kronin sat on the prosecution and Sullivan on the defense. But again, Sullivan prevailed. It perhaps didn't help that Sullivan was a lawyer by trade. Cronan was understandably furious and swore that he'd prove his claims. Sullivan gloated, saying Cronan was simply better after being outed as a traitor. Sullivan had no idea, though, because Cronan wasn't the real traitor umbrella.

Charonne was look around had abruptly left for England after lobbying for Cronin's expulsion. It turns out that he'd been called back for the trial of one Charles Stewart Parnell, who had served as the head of the Irish parliamentary party. Parnell had been charged with taking part in a string of murders in Dublin in 1882 and was also accused of having close relations with the Fenians and killing the girl back in America. And during the testimony Lookaround gave, he outed himself as an English spy planted by the British, like Caron's real name was Thomas Miller Beach and had been a spy for the British for nearly 25 years.

In fact, he had worked closely with one of Scotland Yard's first spymasters, clearly, which was good at his job. But still, how had he infiltrated Gleneagle? Years before, Bech had sailed to America and enlisted in the Union Army, where he fought alongside the Irish posing as a Frenchman. He told them his mother was Irish and that he sympathized with their plight and readily joined the Fenians Beach, then went on to leak information about upcoming raids and where their bombers and fighters were at any given moment.

In the end, Cronan suspicions about the Koran had been right, the blow to Clinton Gale was huge and it was just the thing Cronan needed. He wasted little time in pointing out how close Bech had been to Sullivan. Meanwhile, Sullivan had been spreading the rumor that Beach had given up four members during testimony. And if you guessed Sullivan named Cronin as part of that list, you'd be right. Except for one small detail, the list never existed and no such testimony had ever been given.

But that didn't stop people from believing it. And a conspiracy theory developed some reason that England wouldn't have taken Beach away without replacing him. And since Sullivan had pointed fingers at Kronin, that was strong evidence of Cronin's own guilt. Dr. Cronon had thought long and hard for justice and freedom, thanks to the false rumors of his treason, though none of the good had done for the Irish community seemed to matter. And despite Cronin's best efforts, Sullivan still remained in power and unscathed.

There was only one thing left for Kronin to do leave town. So he relocated to a northern suburb outside of Chicago. When he did, though, he left something behind. A pamphlet, the title of it read Is It a Conspiracy? And Inside was an interview with an unknown reporter. Here's how it read. It strikes me that your funeral would be a very largely attended one. The reporter pointed out, yes, Cronan replied, and the cause of death very extensively inquired into.

Kronin seemed rather comfortable discussing his own demise and funeral, granted, his intuition had been spot on in regards to the Klan's inner workings, but now he believed that they wanted him dead. Yet if he thought the Klan was plotting his murder, it's hard to believe he'd fall for any of what happened next. In April of 1889, Dr. Cronin entered into a strange agreement, Patrick O'Sullivan, an ice man with a nearby factory paid to keep the doctor on retainer.

You know, just in case a factory employee had a medical emergency. Why Dr. Cronin's intuition didn't ring alarm bells is anyone's guess. Maybe he couldn't refuse to treat the injured, or maybe he just needed the money after leaving his job at the hospital. Whatever the reason, when a nervous young man called on him on May 4th claiming there had been a horrible accident, Cronan packed his medical bag and followed him out the door to a carriage. Cronan didn't return home that evening, fearing foul play, his landlord and friends reported the doctor missing.

The investigation that followed was short, almost nonexistent. Detective Daniel Kosslyn took a cursory glance around the home and told reporters, Boys, I give up. I've searched high and low until I'm exhausted and I can get nowhere. But this you may be sure of. There isn't a shred of evidence that Cronan was murdered. Shocked. Cronin's friends pointed out that several patrolmen had already reported a suspicious carriage carrying a large trunk and moving erratically through the streets the night of the doctor's disappearance.

And wouldn't you know it? The very next day, a bloodstained trunk matching the patrolman's description was found in a roadside ditch. Inside the trunk, more blood and human hair. Despite these facts, the press circulated other rumors Cronan escaped to Canada after a botched abortion, they wrote, although, truth be told, he had never performed one or that had gone to New York after a love affair gone bad. Or more likely, they claimed his disappearance, proved the Cronan had been a spy and returned to London.

On May 22nd, employees of the board of public sent to investigate a fetid stench coming from a sewer removed all doubt fighting back bile. The crew peered between the sewer bars there. Wedged inside, they found the bloated naked corpse of a man around his neck hung a medallion of Agnes de aCatholic sacramental thought to protect the wearer from harm. Maybe the killers had let him keep that last possession. Or maybe it was a statement that not even the heavens could protect him from the Klan's reach.

Either way, Dr. Cronin's friends and landlord arrived at the morgue and positively identified the badly beaten body. Two days later, a Swedish couple living in Chicago called the police. They'd rented out a cottage on March 20th to a man named Frank Williams. But when Williams hadn't been seen or heard from, they entered the cabin and made a grisly discovery, multiple rooms stained with blood and scattered with broken furniture. At last, the police had found the crime scene.

Well, following leads, police came across a livery stable next to the station there, they found a carriage matching the description of the one seen on the night of Cronin's disappearance. The stable owner said that a man named Smith had rented it that night. Officers dug deeper and soon learned that the apathetic Detective Kosslyn was a member of Clendening jail and not just a member had been one of the men. Sullivan had handpicked to expel Cronin back in 1885. The officers reported their findings to the chief of police, and on May 27, they arrested Detective Cocklin for murder and took Eisemann Patrick O'Sullivan into custody as well.

They also found a direct link between Eisemann OSullivan and a man named Martin Burke, who matched the description of the mysterious Frank Williams, senior guardian of the local clan, the Gail Camp. Don Beggs was also implicated. O'Sullivan was arrested on June 11, but remained in jail just one night, conveniently, the evidence against him wasn't strong enough to detain him five days later. Police caught up to Martin Burke at the Winnipeg railway station traveling under an alias.

A search of his belongings turned up a one way ticket heading to Liverpool, England. The story grabbed headlines all over the world, exposing clan to dirty secrets for all to see. In Chicago, the newspapers reported every new twist, turn and theory from May through December. It made for great copy, and readers were obsessed and horrified with the details.

Everyone was talking about the and people were quite vocal about their opinions, which made jury selections nearly impossible for the Illinois state attorney's office. As far as the public was concerned, Detective Kosslyn and the others were guilty. Over one thousand one hundred and fifteen men were interviewed as possible jurors. The case had proved to be not only the largest selection process to date, but the longest to the court swore in the 12 jurors. The trial began the very next day, and five thousand people swarmed the courthouse, attempting to be one of the lucky 200 the courtroom could hold for seven straight weeks.

The city was hooked on the trial, partly for the story and partly for the pure drama of it all. A cold rain fell outside the courthouse on December 12th. Despite the dreary weather a crowd had gathered anxiously awaiting the jurors verdict. Public outcry was at a fever pitch, with many calling for the accused to hang on the courtroom. Doors swung open. The crowd fell silent. The verdict had been handed down. Kathleen O'Sullivan and Burke all found guilty and sentenced to life in prison.

John Biggs, however, had been acquitted. With all the dirty details out the public view, Dr. Cronin, as an innocent and honest man, had been murdered for shining a light on the evil and corruption within Irish America. Newspapers coined the phrase the trial of the century when reporting the Klan niggled murder. It was the first time it had ever been used. OSullivan Kosslyn and Burke all arrived for their sentence at Joliet Prison in January of 1890. Unbelievably, Kosslyn appealed, and three years later, he managed to convince the Illinois Supreme Court to retry the case.

Before that could happen, Burke and O'Sullivan both died of tuberculosis. The former detective survived, though, and soon stood before a jury, a jury that most historians believe had been bribed. Despite the evidence to support his guilt, Kosslyn was cleared of all charges. On a late spring day in May of 1889, 12000 people lined Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago. Outside the First Calvary Church, the poor stood alongside the rich, mothers held babies and some elders clutched walking sticks.

Housewives, bakers and businessmen all waited patiently. Members of every race and class filled the street. People readily drew a comparison to the funerals of assassinated presidents James Garfield and Abraham Lincoln, but this was the president. The people of Chicago had come to pay respects to 42 year old Dr. Henry Patrick Cronin. His elaborate walnut casket remained closed, though, too much decay, too many gruesome open wounds for delicate eyes. Instead, the casket was flanked by a large portrait of Kronin to help him be remembered by the onlookers, as he should be.

And Irish American sentries stood watchful in the church's corners. Hyacinth's, lush ferns and other flowers adorned the space, transforming the interior into a peaceful garden, a spray of pastel roses and white daisies in the shape of a cross adorned the head of the casket while a harp made entirely of flowers rested at its foot. The soft flicker of candles cast shadows as mourners paid their respects, Cronan had written of this day and had been right, the investigation certainly had been extensive and his funeral, just as the reporter had suggested, was a large one, although I doubt anyone had expected it to be such a grand farewell.

The next morning on May 26, his procession brought Chicago to a standstill just before 11:00 a.m., pallbearers carried the casket from the church to a hearse. Once it was loaded for black horses solemnly pulled the carriage down Michigan Avenue. The procession took over an hour to make it through the city streets, friends filled carriage after carriage behind Cronin's and following them, a drum corps led several thousand mourners, members of a marginal Irish militia. Weapons reserved in a display of honor and respect marched behind them.

The press reported that over 40000 onlookers had come to bid the doctor farewell. The street was so crowded that some stood tiptoe on stairs, crammed themselves into doorways, climbed lampposts and even took to the rooftops to get a better look. 20000 awaited the procession outside of Union Depot with another 5000 inside. Three trains carried the casket and mourners at Cavallari Cemetery in Evanston, where Dr. Kronin, his work now done, was finally laid to rest. The good doctor may not have brought down Alexander Sullivan in life, but he did in death.

People protested against secret societies and the church denounced Glen Nagle, and by the time Dr. Cronin was laid to rest, the secrets of Glen Nagle were secret no more. There's more to this story. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it. Alfred began his studies in chemistry in St. Petersburg, Russia, in 1859, but after the family business went bankrupt, he moved to Stockholm.

There, he became obsessed with explosives and nitroglycerin. In particular, he and his family understood all too well. Nitroglycerin power and explosion at the family factory had killed his younger brother. The tragedy made Alfred determined to find a safer, more stable alternative.

And in 1867, after years of hard work, he found it. Purely by accident, he discovered the diatomaceous earth absorb and stabilized nitroglycerin. Alfred called his new discovery dynamite from the Greek word for power. And before long, Dynamite made him wealthy. He owned nearly 100 factories, all of which made explosives, ammunition and other military weapons. Dynamite has a lot of uses. It can help excavate large quantities of rock, bring down old buildings and so much more.

But human nature being what it is, people found a darker use as well. Soon enough, dynamite was the weapon of choice for bomb makers like Gleneagle. The first anarchist terrorist attack in America occurred on May 4th of 1886 during a labor demonstration at Haymarket Square in Chicago. A bomb was thrown at the police starting a riot. Eleven people died that day and many more were injured. Two years later, Alfred's other brother, Ludvik, died of a heart attack.

A French newspaper mixed the two brothers up, though, and wrote a scathing obituary of Alfred instead. The reporter wrote that Alfred had been a merchant of death and that his riches had come from inventing ways to mutilate and kill people. As you can imagine, it's not every day that you get to read your own obituary and one filled with such vitriol at that, I'm sure the newspaper corrected the error. But the remarks had made a profound impact on Alfred in his heart.

He knew himself to be a peaceful man. But seeing himself from this new perspective was eye opening. On November 27th of 1895, he sat down and rewrote his will, altering it in such a way that no reporter could do anything other than cast him in a better light. He was going to will a good deal of his fortune to the betterment and support of scientists and inventors around the world. It was a daunting and highly ambitious effort. In one thousand words, though, he summed it up.

Awards would be given to individuals for the greatest work that benefited mankind in the previous year, and he created five categories, three of which were reserved for physics, chemistry and medicine. The fourth award would go to an author of the most outstanding work in literature in the fifth and final award would go to the person who shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between the nations and the abolition or reduction of standing armies and the formation and spreading of peace congresses.

His family name had been associated with war and destruction for years, but Alfred Nobel changed all of that by dedicating his fortune to an award respected by the entire world today. The Nobel Prize. American Chateaux is hosted by Lauren Vogel Bomb. This episode was written by Michelle Muto with researcher Robin Miniter and produced by Miranda Hawkins and Trevor Young with executive producers Aaron Manque, Alex Williams and Matt Frederick. To learn more about the show, visit Greyman, Millicom for more podcast from My Heart Radio, visit the I Heart radio app, Apple podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.