Robert Bandanza
February 13th, 2010, 03:15 AM
The article is quite biased, but this is something I just came across and never knew.
CATHAL O’Shannon’s recent RTE documentary on Nazis who came to Ireland after World War II unleashed a media and legal furore, prompting a new aware-ness of Ireland’s complicated relationship with Adolf Hitler’s notorious regime. However, studies of Nazis in Ireland before World War II have been relatively cursory and little is known of some of the Germans who left these shores prior to the invasion of Poland in 1939.
Adolf Mahr was probably the best-known Nazi in Ireland in the 1930s and he a good subject for a biography. Indeed, one could argue that Gerry Mullins’ study of the life and motivation of Mahr is long overdue and the author deserves a lot of credit for identifying such a truly fascinating subject matter.
An archaeologist of note, Mahr was the Director of the National Museum of Ireland in the 1930s and a friend of then Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera. The Austrian-born professor originally moved to Ireland in the 1920s and he was soon moving in exalted circles in the fledgling Free State. Described by some as the ‘Father of Irish Archaeology’ he is widely credited with placing Irish historical research on a totally new footing.
But Mahr was a controversial figure long before he left Ireland for a family holiday in the summer of 1939 - a holiday that would eventually evolve into permanent banishment. He was the head of the Nazi Party in Ireland in the 1930s and actually described himself as ‘Dublin Nazi No. 1’.
The extent of Mahr’s Nazi involvement will never be fully known, although Gerry Mullins goes a long way towards shedding light on the enigmatic academic. Mahr would later be accused of spying for the Nazis in Ireland and for using his position in the National Museum to help prepare Germany’s invasion plan of Ireland. There isn’t a huge amount of evidence to support such an accusation but critics of Mahr - of which there are many - would argue that he was a wholly unpleasant individual who had ambitions of becoming ruler of Ireland after a successful German invasion.
Whatever his intentions, Mahr does not appear to have planned his permanent exit from Ireland in 1939. He had travelled to Germany for a conference - accompanied by his wife and children who were to enjoy a family holiday - but the outbreak of war in September meant that they could not return.
Mahr used his Nazi contacts to secure a job as the head of the regime’s propaganda radio service, which broadcast into neutral Ireland with people like William Joyce (Lord Haw Haw) and Francis Stuart dominating the airwaves. When Germany began to lose the war, Mahr fled Berlin but was subsequently arrested and detained in a British prisoner-ofwar camp.
One of the most fascinating aspects of Dublin Nazi No. 1 is that the author also tells the story of Mahr’s children, all of whom had been raised in Dublin in the 1930s. Although they considered themselves Irish, these youngsters ended up being caught in the aftermath of the most devastating war in modern times. Some of the stories recounted by the children are utterly horrific and cast a remarkable spotlight on Germany after the war.
Some may not agree with Gerry Mullins’ sympathetic portrait of Adolf Mahr. Cathal O’Shannon - who has penned the foreword to the book --would certainly have reservations about Mahr’s motivations. But Dublin Nazi No. 1 is a superb book, written in an engaging and lively style and replete with unknown material. Apart from offering an insight into one of the most controversial figures of twentieth-century Ireland, the book also sheds light on the puzzling relationship between de Valera’s Ireland and Nazi Germany.
http://www.westernpeople.ie/news/story/?trs=mhqlojsnmh
CATHAL O’Shannon’s recent RTE documentary on Nazis who came to Ireland after World War II unleashed a media and legal furore, prompting a new aware-ness of Ireland’s complicated relationship with Adolf Hitler’s notorious regime. However, studies of Nazis in Ireland before World War II have been relatively cursory and little is known of some of the Germans who left these shores prior to the invasion of Poland in 1939.
Adolf Mahr was probably the best-known Nazi in Ireland in the 1930s and he a good subject for a biography. Indeed, one could argue that Gerry Mullins’ study of the life and motivation of Mahr is long overdue and the author deserves a lot of credit for identifying such a truly fascinating subject matter.
An archaeologist of note, Mahr was the Director of the National Museum of Ireland in the 1930s and a friend of then Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera. The Austrian-born professor originally moved to Ireland in the 1920s and he was soon moving in exalted circles in the fledgling Free State. Described by some as the ‘Father of Irish Archaeology’ he is widely credited with placing Irish historical research on a totally new footing.
But Mahr was a controversial figure long before he left Ireland for a family holiday in the summer of 1939 - a holiday that would eventually evolve into permanent banishment. He was the head of the Nazi Party in Ireland in the 1930s and actually described himself as ‘Dublin Nazi No. 1’.
The extent of Mahr’s Nazi involvement will never be fully known, although Gerry Mullins goes a long way towards shedding light on the enigmatic academic. Mahr would later be accused of spying for the Nazis in Ireland and for using his position in the National Museum to help prepare Germany’s invasion plan of Ireland. There isn’t a huge amount of evidence to support such an accusation but critics of Mahr - of which there are many - would argue that he was a wholly unpleasant individual who had ambitions of becoming ruler of Ireland after a successful German invasion.
Whatever his intentions, Mahr does not appear to have planned his permanent exit from Ireland in 1939. He had travelled to Germany for a conference - accompanied by his wife and children who were to enjoy a family holiday - but the outbreak of war in September meant that they could not return.
Mahr used his Nazi contacts to secure a job as the head of the regime’s propaganda radio service, which broadcast into neutral Ireland with people like William Joyce (Lord Haw Haw) and Francis Stuart dominating the airwaves. When Germany began to lose the war, Mahr fled Berlin but was subsequently arrested and detained in a British prisoner-ofwar camp.
One of the most fascinating aspects of Dublin Nazi No. 1 is that the author also tells the story of Mahr’s children, all of whom had been raised in Dublin in the 1930s. Although they considered themselves Irish, these youngsters ended up being caught in the aftermath of the most devastating war in modern times. Some of the stories recounted by the children are utterly horrific and cast a remarkable spotlight on Germany after the war.
Some may not agree with Gerry Mullins’ sympathetic portrait of Adolf Mahr. Cathal O’Shannon - who has penned the foreword to the book --would certainly have reservations about Mahr’s motivations. But Dublin Nazi No. 1 is a superb book, written in an engaging and lively style and replete with unknown material. Apart from offering an insight into one of the most controversial figures of twentieth-century Ireland, the book also sheds light on the puzzling relationship between de Valera’s Ireland and Nazi Germany.
http://www.westernpeople.ie/news/story/?trs=mhqlojsnmh