Jack-O’s Lanterns

31, October, 1829
Dublin

Jack O’Leary (Jack-O, as he was known to all) sat in The Brazen Head on Saturday morning, conducting his business as he always did. Criminal groups under the guise of family clans were no strange sight in Dublin, and the O’Learys were a local institution. However, Jack-O was a bit of a Robin Hood; his transgressions included making sure that milk from his dairy cows was always accessible and promptly supplied to folks on the outskirts of town. On Saturdays, he loaded up his wagon, patted his mule Rory on the head, and came to the pub to make his deliveries and take orders for the coming week. Other clans, like Jack’s rivals the Walsh clan, were known scrappers and roughs and conducted business through threats and the occasional beating. Jack-O, while not afraid of a scrap, was a more “beloved” gangster as his family provided a needed service outside of the confines of the law and taxes with his small dairy delivery. As his weekly business concluded he set about finishing up his drinking business. He paid his bill, donned his coat and hat, and stepped out into the crisp afternoon air.

Jack walked the three blocks to Thom’s Barber Shop. Danny Sullivan sat in the chair while Thom chatted with William Riordan who sat in the back corner. Jack took off his coat and hat and hung them on the rack by the door and sat in the seat by the front window. “Thom,” he said, before giving a nod and a “Good Day” to Danny and William. Thom grinned and gave a hearty “Jack-O!” while he pulled Danny into a recline and set about lathering his face for a shave. “Mumph” muttered Danny while William gave a curt “Afternoon.” Jack took his pocket knife from his vest and dug at the dirt under his nails while he waited. As Thom finished up Danny’s shave, Jack loudly addressed William across the room “My apologies William, but the missus expects me back home early this evening. Consider giving me a go in the chair?”

“Aye,” said William, letting out an audible heavy sigh.

Danny got up out of the chair, paid Thom his usual currency of a pouch of tobacco, and said his goodbyes before leaving the shop. Jack sat himself in Thom’s barber chair and nodded for Thom to drape an apron over him. “How’s yer family Jack-O?” Thom asked. “Fair as always,” Jack replied. He settled back into the chair as Thom trimmed his hair and reclined his head as Thom prepared to shave him.

As Thom lathered Jack’s face and neck, the door opened roughly as two men rushed in. Jack closed his eyes as the men shouted and a roaring BOOM sounded out from the corner. Men screamed, fell with a thud, and then squealed, kicked, and moaned. Jack stood up and wiped his face with a towel. He turned around to see Thom cowering off to the side with his hands over his ears. Two of the Walsh boys were prostrate on the ground, laying in an enormous pool of their own blood. Darren Walsh was missing most of his midsection and was lying still while his brother, Connor, was holding what was left of his right arm and had a massive wound across his chest. Connor's eyes were alert and panicked as he kicked his legs in shock; unable to find his footing in the gushing blood and guts spilled on the floor. He looked like a chicken with its head cut off; he was close to dead but didn’t know it yet.

Jack turned to look at William who was now standing out of his chair, crouched slightly to shield himself from the kick of the blunderbuss he still pointed at the Walsh brothers. Jack nodded to him as the splintered door burst open and Jack’s younger brother, Martin, and his cousin, Edwin, rushed inside. Edwin plunged a knife into Connor's chest—directly into the heart. Connor quickly fell still, his eyes staring at Jack. As the boys gathered the two bodies and began to drag them out to the waiting wagon, Jack called out “Save the heads, Lads.” Jack-O turned to Thom and gently touched his arm. “I’m sorry for the mess old friend, but I do appreciate the tip. You and William come by the house any time for supper.” Jack walked out to the wagon and gently pat Rory on the snout, and took out a parcel from the lap-board. He walked back inside and placed the cloth-wrapped bottle of milk into Thom’s hands and said “The boys will be back later to clean up and fix your door.” Thom nodded and Jack went back outside and climbed in the wagon. Martin and Edwin piled the Walshes’ bodies into the back and climbed aboard. “Let’s go get your brother, Edwin.” Jack said.

At about the same time as William Riordan was blowing holes in the two Walsh brothers, Edwin’s brother, Samuel, arrived at the local disorderly house where the Walsh elder, John, had a standing appointment on Saturday afternoons with Elizabeth Shandy. Samuel crept up to the second story and down the hall to room No. 4. The door had been left open, as per Jack-O’s arrangement with Ms. Shandy. Samuel quietly opened the door to see John Walsh occupied in his business atop Ms. Shandy. Elizabeth locked eyes with Samuel as he approached the bed and removed the razor from his pocket. Elizabeth turned her eyes towards John and moaned convincingly just before Samuel pounced upon the bed. He firmly grabbed a handful of John’s hair and pulled back his head before he savagely slid the razor across the older man’s throat. Elizabeth did not scream; she smartly kept her mouth closed as blood sprayed across her face. Samuel pulled Walsh off of Elizabeth and wiped the blood from her face before placing ten pounds on the bedside table. He hoisted the body over his shoulder and walked downstairs to meet Jack-O with the wagon.

The sun turned a golden-orange as the afternoon slipped towards evening on the wagon ride home. Jack guided the wagon into the barn as the boys unloaded the bodies of the Walsh clan. They placed the bodies on a large wooden table while Jack gathered his snips, scoop, saw, and his best knife. Jack looked down at his neighbors and, now former,  rivals. “You fuggin bastard John,” he sighed. “You moved on me and now you and your boys are nothin but meat.” Jack picked up the saw and removed the heads as Martin and Samuel threw the decapitated bodies into the pig pen. Next, Jack cut out the soft bits—lips, tongues, eyes—of each of the Walshes and threw them to the hounds. Jack looked down at the three heads before he took an iron rod and broke the jaw open of each man into a vicious, forever, grin.

That night, All-Hallows Eve, Jack and his kin placed the heads on top of fence posts outside of the Walsh family farm. Each head had a candle placed inside the overly-exaggerated hanging jaw, creating a grim shadow that was only accentuated by the gaping black empty eye sockets above. Reputation meant everything around Dublin and, while the O’Learys were not the first name that came to mind when one thought of folks not to cross, after that Halloween day in 1829, word got out of Jack-O’s “leering” lanterns, and for the rest of his days, well, no one dared cross the dairyman.