Why Aren't the Irish Hills Very Irish?
There's no pub in the area, and the local Irish festival doesn't even serve the traditional foods of the Emerald Isle
Most of the tourist traps in the Irish Hills are long gone. The ruins of two abandoned towers now stand as landmarks of the once great destination that Toledoans and Detroiters flocked to in the early 20th century. But why is this place Irish? Residents say the Irish immigrants thought the rolling green hills and lakes looked like Ireland. But if you removed every “Irish Hills” from the businesses and placks, you might not know you were in a special place.
The 1840s were rough for the Irish. The Potato Famine forced millions of immigrants into America. New England was too full for some Irish, so they moved to Buffalo, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Chicago, and Detroit. The Motor City was particularly a haven because of its French Catholic roots, which proved more welcoming to the Irish way of life. Detroit makes Michigan more Irish than people would assume, though obviously Arab, German, and African ancestry are also prevalent. Named after the Irish county, Corktown is the epicenter of Irish heritage.
But not every Mick wanted to be a city slicker. Some wanted to farm and have space and see green again. Lenawee County’s rolling hills definitely had an Irish atmosphere that welcomed the newcomers. As the legend goes, they named it after their homeland. But why such a conspicuous name? Why not name the town after one of the 32 counties?
The name has several origins. Some say Reverend William Lyster chose the name because it reminded him of his home in Wexford County, Ireland. He was the minister at St. Michael and all Angels Episcopal Church. But some say it is because of the two groups that moved to the region. One group of Irish and English Protestants centered around the Episcopal Church, while another group of Irish Catholics settled around St. Joseph Catholic Church. Just like back in the Emerald Isle, there was a tension between Catholic and Protestant, but it never led to violence here. The region is quiet. Only tourism made it bustle.
Other Michiganders referred to the hilly area as “The place where the Irish live.” It’s likely the name came from word of mouth.
But the Irish Hills are not a specific boundary. Brooklyn and Onsted are the main region that bears the name. Other than a few streets with Irish names like “Kelly” and the DNA of the immigrant’s children.
The Irish Hills brand developed with the paving of US-12 in the 1920s. After that, it became a bustling tourism destination. But there was little to no Irishness. The only “Irish” festival in the area is called “A Taste of The Irish Hills.” Local restaurants sell food at the festival. None of it is Irish.
I take my family to Dublin, Ohio, every year for their Irish festival. There is traditional music and food and beer. It is Irish. Even if the people aren’t, they love both the American-Irish kitsch and the traditional Irish culture. There are traditional pubs in the small city, and it seems every street is “Donegal Cliffs Drive” or "Killarney Court.” They are proud of the culture. And, at least they actually try to uphold it, even though the kitsch is still prevalent (and annoying to purists).
But most of Michigan’s “Irish Pubs,” like the Shamrock Bar in Jackson, are sports bars with cartoon shamrocks. There is nothing but neon green decor and the occasional Guinness logo. Otherwise, they’re like any other sports bar.
One entrepreneur in Brooklyn wants to change the lack of Celtic spirit. Daniel Ross, founder of TransPharm Preclinical Solutions and a board member of the Irish Hills Chamber of Commerce, bought the old Brooklyn Ford plant with the intention of restoring it into a business complex that celebrates Irish culture, called The Old Irish Mill. He even plans to open a restaurant with imports and traditional dishes. This would be the first explicitly Irish Pub in the area. If it ever happens.
In one sense, it’s unfair to judge the Irish Hills for failing to be Irish. Most places where the potato-less immigrants settled don’t hold up to Dublin, Ohio. America is a melting pot after all. We are all mutts. But this multiculturalism is why we long for a cohesive identity.
There’s a scene in John Ford’s “The Quiet Man” where John Wayne’s character, an expat who grew up in the states and returns to Ireland as an adult, finishes refurbishing a traditional cottage in County Galway. The local Anglican priest and his wife stop by to pay John Wayne a visit and see that he’s painted the lower half of his cottage. “Only an American would choose Emerald Green,” the priest’s wife says.
The Irish Hills are distinctly American. The tourist traps on US-12 exploded and then it became a liminal space, forgotten and fading. This is why the name is actually American. Only we would call a place The Irish Hills and with no particularly Irish culture. It is a rundown shack painted green. But hopefully the Irishness of the hills of Lenawee County will return.
This Saint Patrick’s Day, there will be no festival where the local firefighters play “Amazing Grace” and “The Rising of the Moon” on drums and bagpipes. Instead, people will drink unhealthy amounts of Bud Light at the local bar while listening to an Englishman like Ed Sheeran.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. Michiganders should celebrate with Dublin Coddle, soda bread, and corned beef. They should enjoy Irish beer. If there is no perfect pub, make your own. Open your home. Freely offer mirth and music, and make sure it’s Irish. Don’t forget to recount the story of St. Patrick.
Slainte.
