JOHN LAWRENCE IRELAND
circa 1850 |
John Lawrence Ireland
Born October 11, 1796 New York City
John was a gentleman with land interests in the New York City and Watkins
Glen, New York.
John was accompanied by his brother William who built what local folks
called "Ireland's Castle" or "Ireland's Folly." It was a large brick
edifice, with marble sills at doors and windows, and a magnificent
staircase. By far, it must have been the most elegant home for many
a mile. William furnished his home in like taste and set a housewarming
date but the family never moved in.
In 1826, following the death of his mother, John returned to New York City to assist his father in the care of a large property in the upper part of the city (Greenwich Village!), which he had bought in 1798. On this property the father and son resided till the death of the former, November 28th 1836. During his residence in New York he served as an alderman. The next year John purchased a large farm in Fireplace, now called Brookhaven on Beaver Dam Road on Long Island, which he improved and cultivated till his death. While their house has been demolished, the bricks were used to construct a house still located at the corner of Beaver Dam and Mott which was used filming "Splendor in the Grass." John was active in church affairs serving as President of the Old South Salem Church and donating the land on which The Saint James Episcopal Church in Brookhaven is located. Speaking of church a humorous story follows from Church of the South; by Rev. George Borthwick. (1985) History of Old South Salem Church: Not every member of the church came on Sundays behind a prancing team. The poorer people rode to the meeting house in a cart drawn by oxen. A story that has been handed down through the years is of the race which occurred after church one Sunday morning, between John Ireland and his team of flashy greys and Herman Hawkins with his yoke of oxen. Along the South Country Road they raced, toward their homes in Brookhaven Village. Fast as were Squire Ireland's horses, they were no match for "Harmon" (as he was locally called) Hawkin's black and white oxen, which he spurred on with properly applied cracks of this leather whip, and loudly shouted words which only they could understand. As Mr. Ireland turned into the drive of his estate, ahead he could see the dust left by the galloping oxen of "Harmon" Hawkins. Fellow-members, whom the racers passed, were shocked that they should thus profane the Sabbath, but for the driver of the victorious oxen, the misdeed was amply justified by the fact he had removed from his team the traditional stigma of slowness. |