The vote of thanks to Maureen Murphy eloquently proposed by Dr. Chris Murray was enthusiastically accorded by a unanimous AGM at the close of the 1997 Conference in Hofstra: "In calling for a vote of thanks to Maureen Murphy on behalf of all the delegates present I must emphasize my deep admiration of all that she and her wonderful staff, so ably led by Athelene Collins, have done for us here at Hofstra. It has been a superb conference from every conceivable point of view-hospitality, friendliness, efficiency, organization, and of course the range and wealth of papers offered. Maureen's firm hand on the tiller has at all times been accompanied by the warm heart in the conference arrangements.
Yesterday the forty-seven of us who went with Maureen to New York experienced in concentrated form, in synecdoche I may say, what this conference has been all about. From the fascinating early morning talk on Irish emigrants (Americans say immigrants, showing the two worlds we now inhabit) which Maureen gave us on the bus, through the unforgettable trip to Ellis Island, followed by the visit to the American-Irish Historical Association on Fifth Avenue, on to the sumptuous meal at Rose O'Grady's and finally to that heart-warming production of Da, we were treated to a constant flow of stimulation and sweet nourishment. One could not have more potent proof of the validity of the classical maxim of mixing instruction with pleasure. It sums up the spirit of this conference. It was a wonderful, indeed a red-letter, day. It will be difficult to beat on the tour. And it sums up Maureen Murphy's genius-there's no other word for it-for combining organization with impeccable good taste and unfailing courtesy.
On your behalf, then, it gives me great pleasure to call for a vote of thanks to Maureen Murphy for inviting us to Hofstra and for making us feel so absolutely at home here. We thank her and her staff for making possible a first-class conference and for providing us with such good facilities, both at the university and nearby. We thank her, too, for the receptions we have enjoyed. Maureen, you have done us proud, and we thank you from the two worlds of our collective hearts. C. M.
Finding ourselves in the sweet, sunny town of New Bedford, Massachusetts, waiting for Sunday service to conclude in the Seaman's Bethel, was a novel experience for everyone on this tour. The international mix of academics (Egypt, Germany, Brazil, Japan, Ireland and the United States were all represented), fresh from the mental exertions of the conference the previous week, either explored the whaling museum or sat by the chapel mentioned in Melville's Moby Dick. The town seemed to yawn in the sunshine as the congregation exited and we took our look at the famed pulpit, shaped like the bow of a ship. The first of many visits to famous birthplaces, historical landmarks or famous homes, it was the shape of things to come.
Guided by the always entertaining and always excellent Maureen Murphy and driven by the irrepressible Ron Bramley, we made our way as far as Boston that first night. The Kennedy Library, television station more like, was visited in the afternoon. Lined with TV screens, its galleries offer the life of J.F.K. on camera, and what a life it proved to be. And he got to meet Bill Clinton.
The city itself was only briefly visited, the classy Quincy Market quickly searched for its best restaurants. They were many, and they were slow. We stayed in the comfortable (or even downright plush) student residences of Boston College. It was hard not to feel blessed, or spoilt, or both.
Monday brought the pleasures of Salem, home of puritanism, witchcraft and Nathaniel Hawthorne. Even the drugstore sold bibles and black candles. Ron drove us to the House of the Seven Gables, a sort of Nathaniel Hawthorne theme park built around the original House of the Seven Gables. The titular house has, at least, eight gables. They were everywhere. It is to normally gabled houses what quintuplets are to only children.
The same day we also visited Concorde and Lexington. Such a confluence of famous dwelling places is scarcely imaginable. On your right, Louisa May Alcott; on your left, Emerson; behind those trees, Thoreau. Not to mention the starting place of the War of Independence! The nearby Walden Pond is considerably more than a pond, and considerably less isolated than in Thoreau's day. As we strolled towards the bustling shore, the lake spreading before us, one of our number asked a young passerby if this was Walden Pond. A slight pause before the young man replied, "O, don't know who owns it." And so Walden has become a great swimming pool, glorious in the sun.
Thanks to Boston College and its librarian, their Yeats, Beckett, Joyce, O'Casey and Shaw manuscripts were briefly displayed. The assembled academics were, needless to say, impressed. From there we were quickly led to the garden of an old house, overlooking tlie college. In this setting we had a wonderful barbecue, lasting long into the evening, until the air finally cooled and the sky grew dark.
The following morning, Maureen and Ron brought us out of Boston for the last time, and on to Amherst. The clouds drizzled, and Emily Dickinson's doors stayed shut (her home was closed that day, alas) and we all wondered, as we stood in her large, damp garden, why she never came out. In contast, the home of Herman Melville is in a great sloping meadow, near a great, looming barn. The tour guide was also great, with a real enthusiasm. And not a whale in sight.
Williamstown which we reached at evening, is a college town of impeccable neatness and manners. It is so neat that the lawns look as if they mow themselves and the buildings keep a respectful distance from each other. In the Williamstown Hotel we had our evening meal. Laughter and chat, in many, many languages, rose from each table. As we reminisced and told stories, picking through the highlights of our journey with real randomness, we all realised how fine and rare a thing this tour was, a brief, wonderful taste of another world, out of place with our real lives, and all the more special for it.
The toast for Maureen that evening was the most sincere and best deserved anywhere in a long time. To provide such faultless organisation while providing a witty, informative commentary and giving good guidance requires such care, consideration and effort as to be beyond most people, and we all appreciated that.
The following and final day, a Wednesday, began with a visit to Sunnyside, Washington Irving's private paradise on the Hudson. It is situated close to the Catskills, setting of Irving's fables 'Rip Van Winkle' and 'The legend of Sleepy Hollow.' Before leaving Sunnyside we were treated to a reading by Michael Longley of his own six-line poem "Rip Van Winkle,' which fittingly brought the literary part of the tour to an end.
Ron's bus returned us all to Hofstra later that day, and we said our goodbyes to many who had provided such entertaining company over the previous few days. Some immediately off to travel the world home; others needed only a quick drive on Long Island to reach journay's end. For us all, it was time to return to our real lives in the real world. [Kindly contributed by Davin O'Dwyer.]