Commodore John Barry

The Barry Society was well-represented.

The doctor was concerned. The cop who pulled him over on 4th Street and told him he’d have to wait till the parade went by was reassuring. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It won’t take long.”

In fact, the parade, led by a handful of pipers from the Philadelphia Emerald Society, lasted less than 10 minutes, winding its way from Old St. Mary’s Church to the south side of Independence Hall where the statue of Commodore John Barry, father of the US Navy, stands perpetually pointing to some distant place.

But it was long enough to attract the attention of Memorial Day patriots exploring the cradle of American democracy, many of whom lingered around the statue to listen to speaker after speaker teach a history lesson about a man of heroic proportion in life who is spectacularly little known in death.

The son of an Irish farmer, John Barry captured the first ship during the American Revolution and fought its final sea battle. He couldn’t be bought: Although he went unpaid (by about $6,000) by the Continental Congress for his service, he turned down a financial offer from British Lord Howe to change sides. “Not the value or command of the whole British fleet,” Barry replied, “can lure me from the cause of my country which is liberty and freedom.”

As commander of naval operations for the new nation, he supervised the building of the American fleet.

But he wasn’t above using some cunning when ships weren’t available: On January 5, 1778, while the Delaware was occupied by the British fleet, Barry organized the famous Battle of the Kegs, in which small kegs loaded with explosives were sent floating down the river at the British ships and fired upon, exploding them and throwing the British into a panic.

That same cunning came into play on land too. In 1787, when a minority of federal convention members opposed to the new constitution decided to go into hiding to prevent the formation of a quorum, Barry organized a group called The Compellers and physically forced enough of the seceding members back to form a quorum. The vote was taken, and the constitution was finally approved.

In his private life, he and his second wife, Sarah, had no children, but happily adopted Barry’s two nephews after his sister died. He was active in the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick, the Hibernian Fire Company, and the Ancient Order of Hibernians. “He was a faith-filled person,” Father Ed Brady told the congregation at Old St. Mary’s Church on 4th Street. Barry and his family are buried in the churchyard, along with half a dozen other famous Revolutionary era heroes, including Col. George Meade.

The day–which commemorated the erection of the Barry statue by the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 100 years ago–started with a Mass and a ceremony honoring not only Barry, but his contemporary, Matthew Carey, who, like Barry, was Irish-born (a Dubliner) and a Philadelphia transplant. Carey used money loaned to him by the Marquis de Lafayette to start a newspaper in the city and later published the first Catholic Bible in the new world.

Though Carey was buried at Old St. Mary’s, his body and gravestone were relocated by his family to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Cheltenham. Concerned about setting history aright, a local amateur Barry historian, John Barry Kelly, contacted John Houlihan of the Barry Club of Brooklyn to help bring back Carey’s memory to his not-so-final resting place. Houlihan, a native of Dublin like Carey, decided to contact the board of the Dublin Society of New York to “get the ball rolling” to erect another memorial, which was unveiled on Sunday. Irish Deputy Consul General Brendan O’Caollai, also a Dubliner, took part in the ceremony. A portrait of Carey will hang in the church, where the Founding Fathers met to pray on July 4, 1779, the third anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

And on this Memorial Day weekend, with history hanging heavy in the humid air, it repeated itself. Ten-year-old Morgan Hepburn of Phoenixville, whose great-great aunt Elise Hazel Hepburn helped dedicate the Barry statue in 1907 on the south side of Independence Hall, laid a wreath at the memorial of their common ancestor.

He stood about 6’4”, had a square jaw, and a good sense of humor. During the American revolution, Commodore John Barry was hailed by British frigates as he sailed into the West Indies. When they questioned him about the name of his ship and its captain, he quipped, “The United States ship, Alliance, saucy Jack Barry, half Irishman, half Yankee—who are you?”

Just like an Irishman—answering a question with a question (and some sarcasm thrown in there for good measure).

Though to most Philadelphians, Commodore Barry is just a bridge crossing the Delaware, the man for whom the span is named was a superhero of his day. The County Wexford-born son of a subsistence farmer and an émigré to Philadelphia was tapped by the Continental Congress to launch the new nation’s Navy. “Saucy Jack Barry” (better known to others as “Big John Barry” because of his imposing height) took over the merchant ships Congress acquired in 1775 and fitted them as vessels of war. The British were better equipped and more experienced, but Barry had Irish cunning on his side. After several of his ships were lost to the enemy, Barry turned to small craft that allowed him to sneak up on the British and capture their store ships, intercepting needed supplies.

“In the middle of winter, he attacked the British in the lower Delaware with a bunch of rowboats he commandeered from various vessels,” explains John Barry Kelly, a Drexel Hill man who shares a family tree with the naval hero. “He was very daring and aggressive, unfazed by adverse odds. He once successfully fought a frigate (ironclad war ship) and ship of the line (a large, powerful battleship) simultaneously off the coast of Maine.”

While John Paul Jones (“I have not yet begun to fight”) eventually became more famous for his own daring exploits against the British in their own waters, Barry kept his eye on the U.S. East Coast, traveling from Newfoundland to the Florida Keys, engaging the enemy whenever he encountered them. “His celebrity came when brought the first captured British ship into Philadelphia harbor in 1776, the early part of the revolution, which was a source of pride to new Americans,” says Kelly, who works for Independence National Historical Park just a couple of blocks from the statue of his famous relative. (It’s on the south corner of Independence Hall.)

Barry also captured two British ships after being severely wounded in battle. (In a show a gallantry, he returned the surviving British commander’s sword. “I return it to you, Sir,” Barry said after meeting the commander in his cabin, where he was recovering from his injuries. “You have merited it, and your King ought to give you a better ship. Here is my cabin, at your service. Use it as your own.”)

“In the 18th century, he was known as top-notch mariner apart from his military activity,” says Kelly. “He set a speed record never duplicated in 18th century. By dead reckoning, he was able to traverse 237 miles in 24 hours, which had never been done. He was also quite composed in dire circumstances. For example, when taking American ministers to Europe, a terrible storm blew up, and he was able to maintain control of the ship. [Founding father] Thomas Paine commented on how well he handled the vessel. He seemed to have great ability to handle crises.” And he had plenty of them. By the time the battle for independence was won, Barry had put down three mutinies, captured more than 20 ships, and fought the last naval battle of the American Revolution aboard his frigate, Alliance, in 1783.

On Sunday, May 27, the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick (a local organization of which Barry was a member), honored this amazing Revolutionary War hero in a day-long ceremony, starting with a commemorative mass at 11:30 a.m. at Old St. Mary’s Church—Barry’s parish church and where he was buried in 1803, at the age of only 58. After a wreath-laying, representatives of the Friendly Sons, the Ancient Order of Hibernians, the Commodore Barry Club of Philadelphia (The Irish Center) and the Barry Club of Brooklyn and others processed to Independence Hall where a statue of Barry stands, his right arm pointing into the distance. A reception and luncheon followed at the Commodore Barry Club in the Mount Airy section of the city.

For those who took part, it was a great opportunity to get to know a local Irish-American hero. And they’ll never look at that bridge the same way again.Read a history of Commodore John Barry by John Barry Kelly at www.ushistory.org/people/commodorebarry.htm