Project Children: Defusing the Troubles

Greenwood Lake,

a world away from a place called Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Those kids, the kids running in the water, swimming,

they're from Belfast.

A far cry from the bleakness and the gulf of hatred

that separates Catholic and Protestants.

-I don't want to go home.

-Why?

I don't know. I want to see my mother, but I don't want to go home.

Are you afraid sometimes at home?

-Sometimes.

-Why?

In case I get beat up, something like that.

And what else can happen?

Anything else that you think of?

Get shot, things like that.

Do you see lots of shooting at home?

-Hmm, yeah.

-Does it scare you?

Yeah, I guess so.

-Why-why are they doing that at home?

-I don't know.

It's just... It's just going back to a bloody place.

A place where people get killed for just...for nothing.

Six weeks in America, swimming, baseball and soccer,

hills, trees, lake,

friendship and peace,

and then back to Belfast and the Troubles -

bombing, shooting, endless death.

GLASS SHATTERS

Hatred comes from suspicion and fear,

and it is taught by the example of the parents, politicians...

Teach the people to hate.

Well, the love should come from the parents,

from the example of the parents.

But the example that the children are getting in Belfast

is to hate, because the parents hate.

What we are doing in Belfast

is that we're rearing another generation of bigots,

who are learning to hate.

And if the both sides would get down on their knees

and ask God to forgive them...

And I hope and pray that Catholic mothers and Protestant mothers

realise that, because it's the children that are the future.

I came here in 1962.

When I arrived here, I was 17 years old.

20 in my pocket, barely able to write my name.

I mean, I had worked in a farm before I came,

and it really was the land of opportunity, for me, anyhow.

I had an opportunity to go back to school

and get my high school diploma.

I got my citizenship and became a police officer.

That was my dream.

In 1969, Denis Mulcahy took an oath to protect and serve

the citizens of New York.

The young recruit from County Cork in Ireland would later become

one of the NYPD's most decorated bomb disposal experts.

This is the neighbourhood that I spent 20 years here

in the bomb squad.

This is where I reported daily.

There were an endless number of threats to face in New York City,

but Denis's unique line of work

meant he also took a professional interest

in what was happening elsewhere in the world,

and at that time, Ireland was never far from his thoughts.

OFFICER SHOUTS ORDERS

You'd read about and you'd hear about devices going off in Ireland.

You were always curious as to what kind of a device it was,

you know, how it was set up, how it was meant to go.

OFFICER SHOUTS ORDERS

I was somewhat fascinated with explosives,

and that's what led me to joining the bomb squad.

OFFICER SHOUTS ORDERS

There used to be a joke between bomb techs -

when you cut a wire, you can hear it,

but if you cut the wrong wire,

you're never going to hear it.

EXPLOSION

GLASS SHATTERS

# The whole world's sitting on a ticking bomb

# The whole world's sitting on a ticking bomb

# So keep your calm and carry on

# The whole world's sitting on a ticking bomb

# The sun may never rise again... #

In the early 1970s,

Belfast was rapidly becoming one of the most bombed cities in the world.

The centuries-old conflict in Ireland was coming to a head.

Northern Ireland was part of the United Kingdom

in which the Catholic, Nationalist minority were engaged

in a civil rights struggle with the Protestant, Loyalist majority

that had spiralled out of control into bloody violence.

GUNFIRE

Dozens, scores, perhaps hundreds of young Catholics,

young Nationalists, decided to join the IRA,

their rationale being the only way we are going to get equality

is by using violence, by using weapons,

by using guns and by using bombs.

GLASS SHATTERS

SCREAMING

Whatever about the rights and wrongs of the politics,

it was a dangerous place to grow up.

When I was around eight years old, there were two sports.

One was football, the other one was rioting.

The night that my father died, our house was petrol bombed.

This group kicked the door in, got him to say a prayer in the

Roman Catholic prayer book, and then shot him in the back of the head.

Life was about survival.

It was amazing the amount of young kids, you know,

that were getting hurt, that were getting hit by plastic bullets.

My childhood was very much...

It was a world of fear.

Here they come!

There was a war, essentially, going on, around us,

which we were all too conscious of.

It just seemed like reality to us,

that while you were out playing with other kids

that you would be playing in the midst of a patrol of soldiers

in full combat gear.

Young people, young children,

saw horrific things and were conditioned by this.

Schools were segregated,

you had Catholic schools and you had Protestant schools.

Protestant children never met Catholic children,

and Catholic children never met Protestant children.

To each, the other side were the enemy.

On the Catholic, Nationalist side,

the enemy wasn't just the Protestants.

Increasingly as the conflict evolved, the enemy was the Brits.

It's important to remember, as well, the Troubles were exciting,

if you were, say, 13 years old and you were in a working class area.

But with the Troubles going on all around you, you could come out,

sort of, on the house and just hurtle down Rossville Street

with a stone in your hand, taking on the British Army.

If you were in your early teens,

that was quite a thing, quite a thing.

CHILD SHOUTS

Nobody ever got used to the violence that engulfed the community.

Six and seven-year-olds who were playing Cowboys And Indians,

you know, could find themselves playing Soldiers And Civilians

in a deadly game.

EXPLOSION

It's a short step from throwing stones at an army vehicle

to actually picking up a gun and shooting the inhabitants

or making and planting a bomb that would blow up the vehicle,

a very short step, because once young people,

children in particular, have become inured to violence,

that's where you had the seeds being sown for the conflict,

the violent conflict that continued for the next 20, 30 years.

-NEWSREEL:

-..two bombs which went off were detonated at the car.

-NEWSREEL:

-..one man was killed, two policemen were seriously hurt.

-NEWSREEL:

-..the outlawed Irish Republican Army...

-NEWSREEL:

-..shattered windows as far as half a mile away,

and a large plume of black smoke...

-NEWSREEL:

-..as it exploded, witnesses said it shook the earth.

-NEWSREEL:

-..authorities believe the Irish Republican Army

set off a car bomb...

-NEWSREEL:

-..this is not just a British problem,

this is an international problem.

We have a situation which is explosive...

Every evening when you put on the six o'clock news,

the headlines was Northern Ireland.

-NEWSREEL:

-..among the dead are Protestants and Catholics.

Some are children.

-NEWSREEL:

-..the bomb was meant for men inside,

but it killed two little girls.

It went off at eight o'clock, Halloween night.

I was a student in Oxford when the Troubles began in the late '60s,

and it was still hot in '75.

A lot of people were dying.

A lot of grudges being built

on that shed blood.

SHOUTING AND BREAKING GLASS

There was a great need to take the kids out of Northern Ireland,

and we were seeing that need on television every day.

What do you think is going to happen in the future?

What will it be like to grow up here?

-I don't think the Troubles will end.

-You don't?

What do you think will happen?

I think they will just keep going on and on.

The sleepy villages of upstate New York were a world away from

the sectarian violence unfolding on the streets of Northern Ireland.

Denis and his brothers Tom, Pat and John,

had all emigrated to America in the early 1960s,

joining a wave of immigrants leaving Ireland

in pursuit of the American Dream.

Working in the police and fire departments of New York City,

the brothers settled 60 miles away in the small town of Greenwood Lake.

And, along with their new American neighbours,

formed an Irish cultural society.

Oh, look who's here, the old man!

-Hey, how are you doing?

-Not bad!

Their initial idea was to promote and host Irish events,

but nightly news reports

showing children caught up in the Northern Ireland Troubles

convinced of the group that they needed to intervene in some way.

I have one short announcement.

This is actually the table.

In August 1974, around the Mulcahy family kitchen table,

the charity Project Children was born.

-Do you recall the first meeting that we had?

-Yes, I do. Very well.

We had a meeting in your basement.

We had John Mulcahy, Pat Mulcahy, Tom Mulcahy, Denis Mulcahy,

Duke Hoffman, Michael and myself.

That's the first one I remember.

At that meeting,

we came up with this idea that if we could just bring

some of these kids out of there for the summer,

put them into homes here, it might have some type of an effect on them.

It was very basic.

We said we would bring the first kids out of Belfast,

that we would make contact with some schools there,

and of course that the programme would be 50-50 -

we would bring both Catholic and Protestant kids out of there.

Whilst the newly formed group had a plan, they had no money

for such a costly venture, so the fundraising had to start in earnest.

It was decided that evening

that we would start off by having a 50-50.

Because 50-50 meant each person at the meeting

would put in five dollars.

It came to 50, and the draw would be...

The person winning would get half.

I happened to win it, and I said, "No, leave the 50",

and that's where we started. 50.

50 was a decent start,

but the newly formed charity would need another 1,500

if they wanted to bring six kids to America for the summer.

Back in the '70s, money was tight.

Greenwood Lake is middle income families,

there's nobody extremely rich here

that you're going to get any huge donations from.

Pat Mulcahy, who had donated his winnings from that first meeting,

took on the task of approaching the wider immigrant community

for the money the charity needed.

I went to this Irish-American organisation,

and I explained to them what Project Children was all about.

I got a very, very cold reception.

The question was, "Are you bringing Protestant children?"

And I said, "Oh, yes.".

All children in Northern Ireland...

mean the same to us.

And, well, "No, you won't be getting any help here."

So I, I was...

I was totally dumbfounded.

When I left the meeting, coming home, I was so down,

and so depressed about it

that I honestly felt like just throwing in the towel.

The group's ambitions of bringing children to America

had suffered an early blow.

But opposition to their plans should not have been entirely unexpected.

Let's pray for a united Ireland!

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

There were a lot of people active in the US, in Irish affairs,

not always for the better.

I think there was a degree of ignorance on the part of the

Irish-American community, who saw the problem in black and white.

Simplistic terms.

The enemy were the Brits.

The enemy were the Protestants.

It was as simple as that.

# Armoured cars and tanks and guns

# Aimed to take away our sons

# But every man must stand behind

# Stand behind the wire... #

In the early 1970s, NORAID,

established to help prisoners in Northern Ireland,

were secretly raising money for the IRA,

who were engaged in the violent struggle against the British state.

Irish-America, NORAID,

provided the finance for the sinews of war for the IRA

through the 1970s and beyond.

NORAID's main way of raising cash was by having these huge dinners

at hundreds of dollars a plate.

I remember being at one dinner and the money flowed into the coffers.

I don't think many people there would be that concerned about

whether the money went to support IRA prisoners,

or went to buy weapons.

'Here on the streets of Northern Ireland,

'the security forces certainly have

'no doubt what happens to that money from the United States.

'It goes to buy these, the weapons used by the IRA.

'Many of the M60 machine guns and the Armalite rifles

'come from the United States, bought with American dollars.'

Through the 1970s, it's estimated that 2,500 weapons,

many of which were high velocity rifles, the Armalite,

and about one million rounds or more of ammunition,

were shipped from America into Northern Ireland.

Whilst Americans with sinister motives were getting involved

in the Northern Ireland conflict, on a political level,

successive US presidents had declined to intervene

in what they saw as affairs of the British government.

We were always in the thick of it, psychologically,

the Irish-Americans were.

But there was a reason the United States had always stayed out,

even though we have the largest Irish diaspora in the world

by a long ways,

and, after fighting our first two wars against the British,

we had become the closest of allies,

and in the Cold War it mattered a lot that we were always together.

The British view of Northern Ireland was, "This is our problem.

"You keep your noses out of this."

Be it Dublin's noses or America's noses.

Not your problem, our problem. We will deal with it.

As radical fringe groups filled the vacuum

created by American political inaction,

it was perhaps not surprising

that Pat Mulcahy had been publicly reprimanded

for daring to include Protestant children in the charity's plans.

It was maybe 30, 40 people at the meeting,

and I was so let down because nobody spoke up.

I took that personal. I took that personal.

We're talking about children.

But privately, those same people who were afraid to speak up

were now having second thoughts.

The phone started to ring.

I must've got at least 10 calls from people that were at the meeting,

that would say, "Send me... Keep a table of tickets for me

"for the dance. Send me so many raffle tickets."

And apologising for the way I was treated.

And I knew this is...

It's a river that won't be stopped.

Pat's success in persuading ordinary Americans to donate money

meant the charity could now bring six kids,

both Catholics and Protestants,

out of harm's way for a summer.

In Greenwood Lake,

the same families who made up the Gaelic Cultural Society were now

preparing to open their homes to kids from the streets of Belfast.

Delivery driver Duke Hoffman and his wife Carol

were host family number one.

We were sitting around the table and someone said,

"Would you take a child?" I said, "I can't see why not.

"Let me give my wife a call

"and see what she says about it."

So I called her up and she says, "What do you want now?"

And I said, "There's a reason why I'm calling you.

"The project is going to get started.

"They want to know if we would host a child from Ireland, Belfast."

"OK," but she says "on the one stipulation.

"I want two kids. And they have to be boys." And...

One can be a Protestant,

and one can be a Catholic.

Because I'm Protestant and you're Catholic, and he said OK.

The Hoffmans' quiet bungalow on the edge of a lake

in upstate New York would be home for two boys

from Northern Ireland during the summer of 1975.

It was a picture postcard image that couldn't have been more

at odds with the violence engulfing Belfast.

Dennis Mulcahy was keen to target children who had most to gain

from a summer holiday in America.

So he enlisted the help of local school teachers

to identify potential "project children".

Well, first of all I taught some of the children,

and I would have talked to their parents,

and I suppose I sold the project.

I said, "Look, your child is going to go to a family in America.

"They're going to live, have a normal family life.

"There's not going to be shootings or bombings.

"For six weeks, you know one of your family is safe."

Of course, some parents were, "God, no! I wouldn't let my child

"go to the youth club up the street, never mind go to America."

You know, some stranger come up to them and ask them, you know,

"Do you want to be a part of this programme?

"It involves travelling to America, living with a family,

"and that family may be Catholic, may be Protestant," you know,

they weren't sure.

And they didn't mind.

You know, when you look back, it was very trusting of people to do it.

But the tension and the atmosphere of society then,

people were terrified for their children then

and they were willing to take the risk.

I think that set the scene for parents willing to trust us

to take them to America.

What did we do with the book? What did I do with the book?

There it is.

It's amazing how young some of these kids were.

We've got some scotch tape on it, keeping it together.

We brought six kids that first year,

starting with Kevin Brady, John Cheevers.

In June 1975, the first Project Children group left for America.

Nine-year-old Kevin Brady and John Cheevers, 11,

were young boys from either side of a divided Belfast.

The first time they'd ever met someone of a different tradition

was when they met each other on the very first Project Children flight.

I remember distinctly messing around with the chairs

because they went back and forth.

The seat in front kept coming back and forward, the kid in front.

It seemed to be like a big armchair.

He was a Catholic in front, his name was Kevin.

It seemed to be something to have fun with.

He kept on doing this on purpose.

I pressed it at the wrong time,

just as John was getting into his tapioca pudding.

It went into my face, I was covered in it.

He wasn't too happy at all.

I tapped him on the head and he got up.

He knew where I was from, and I knew he was from, and I said,

"You've got to stop this with the seat," and he went back and forth,

we ended up throwing punches at each other and then we were pulled apart.

Oblivious to the tension developing on the flight,

Denis and his neighbours from Greenwood Lake

were eagerly awaiting their young visitors from Belfast.

Well, there was a lot of anticipation because, again,

a lot of things go through your mind, you know,

is the kid going to like your family, will you like the child?

All of that simple stuff.

I wasn't nervous.

I was saying, "Who am I going to get? Who are the two kids?"

I was looking forward to it because boys are boys,

same challenges and so forth, and I said,

"We've got to give these kids a good time."

For John and Kevin, adversaries on the flight,

their dream summer in America was getting off to a difficult start.

We got off the plane, and nobody was really talking.

I just felt completely lost, and like, "Where am I?"

So I'm waiting to be introduced, and am standing looking at him,

thinking, "I hope I don't end up with him."

The thought just crossed my mind, you know.

As they were sort of pairing the kids off, I thought to myself,

"Well, I wonder if I am going to be paired with this fellow."

I don't think he liked me,

and I didn't really like him too much either.

When John and Kevin came in,

you could see they were a little stand-offish.

They were Catholic and I'm Protestant,

and this probably was in their mind,

and, "I'm not supposed to be talking to you,

"and you're not supposed to be talking to me."

All of a sudden, "You two are going to be staying with Carol and Duke."

I looked at him, and I was like floored.

I said, "I can't believe this."

I wasn't really looking at him, I was just thinking,

"Oh, my God, I'm going to have to spend six weeks with this guy."

Imagine a Catholic and a Protestant boy coming and they have

a fight on the aeroplane, and then they come into our house.

How is that going to blend in?

We ended up in a limousine together, and I was transfixed, looking out.

You could see the Manhattan skyline and stuff.

I'll never forget, we're coming over the big bridge,

and everything I had eaten on the plane

decided to come up at that one time.

And I threw up in the back of a limousine.

Slapping my knee, "I'm glad it happened to you", you know.

"Come on, you're making a fool out of yourself." I'm not being sick.

I was watching the Manhattan skyline and he's throwing up.

Project Children thought bringing kids out of Northern Ireland

would help ease the tension they were experiencing at home.

But, for John and Kevin,

moving into their new American home was only making things worse.

To share the same room as a Catholic,

share the same bedroom, you know.

I'm not walking around in my underwear in front of

a Catholic, do you know what I mean?

I was... I could not fathom it.

It was kind of like, I guess I was in a state of shock.

So we started unpacking our suitcases, and my thought was,

"OK, well, I'm going to be sharing a room with an alien

"because I don't know this guy."

He may as well be from Mars,

as much interaction as we may have had in Belfast.

There was tension in the bedroom, there definitely was.

You could cut it with a knife.

Will the six weeks make a difference?

At Greenwood Lake, they hope it will.

-John, who's your buddy here?

-Kevin.

-Is he a buddy from back home?

-No.

-No?

-I don't see him much.

-Why don't you see your buddy back home?

Because he lives...

I'm a Protestant and he's a Catholic, you live in areas.

-You don't live next to each other.

-Yes.

-Well, are you afraid sometimes at home?

-Sometimes.

-Why?

In case you get beaten up, something like that.

Yeah. And what else can happen?

-Anything else you can think of?

-Get shot, things like that.

I was born in a wee house, 17 Ballymena Street, Oldpark Road.

When I was a wee boy, a lot of riots started.

Protestants and Catholics

used to fight at the bottom of my street every night.

Just rioting, violence, vigilantes, seeing people getting beat up.

Watching the paramilitaries march through the streets.

Quick march!

It was crazy.

I mean, we used to have the bottom and the top of my street

cordoned off with barbed wire and these things they pulled across.

It was horrible. Like a no-man's-land, and all bricked up.

There must've been a couple of hundred houses in the street,

and there was only like probably 15 or 20 people living in the street.

That was just life.

Every day, you know, when are you going to be attacked?

EXPLOSION

It's just, you shouldn't go back to the bloody place.

Because in Ireland, if I talk to a Protestant

and some Catholic boy sees me, they might beat me up.

I grew up in the New Lodge Road area of Belfast.

I think my first memory was getting up in the middle of the night

because I had a headache, and my mum,

she gave me a little pill, and I was getting a glass of water,

and looking out of that window and seeing about four different

major fires going off at the same time that had been started by bombs.

I remember my mum being very, very protective of us,

trying to keep us inside the house as much as possible.

But, I mean that was impossible, basically.

We had gunfire.

We had guys in tanks, and Saracens, there was just a war going on.

GUNFIRE RESONATES

I was very young.

I remember participating in riots where people were killed,

where people were maimed, and people were badly, badly injured.

I was very lucky that nothing ever happened to me.

In the American suburbs of 1975, the Hoffmans had no time

for divisions created by the violence in Northern Ireland.

I said, "You're not in Belfast. You are here in America.

"You are in my house and I'm a Catholic,

"and I love you just as much as I love Kevin.

"And Carol does the same thing -

"she loves Kevin as much as she loves you.

"Your faith has no bearing on it. We are all one in this household."

Ironically, it was confrontation that made them question

their suspicions of each other.

The reason that I wanted the two boys

is because my best friend at the time was living next door,

and she had two boys.

Walt and Philip lived next door,

and they called us Uncle Duke, Aunt Carol.

Duke was like a surrogate father to us,

and Carol like a surrogate Mom, you know?

It was really an excellent relationship,

they took real good care of us.

Duke took them everywhere. Took them camping and stuff,

and...so, we came, they were kind of cut out of the picture,

we were getting all the attention.

And when they got here,

we started to see that they started to invest more time

in John and Kevin.

Can't say we were crazy about it, you know?!

At first they liked us,

they were OK for the first day or so,

and they started getting jealous.

Hey, how would you feel?

You come into a house and I'm your best pal,

and all of a sudden I'm sitting with the other kid, here,

talking to him and forgetting about you.

You wouldn't like it, neither.

The only exposure we had had at the time to Irish accents

-was the Lucky Charms leprechaun.

-Yeah.

-You know?

And he spoke clearly enough in the commercials

that we could understand it.

Even the way he said "Kevin". Like, "Come on, Kavin."

-Like, "Kavin" - it's not...

-Kavin.

It's Kevin, for us, it's not Kavin, John, it's Kevin.

"Catch yourself oan, Kavin."

Kavin, it was Kavin.

"Catch yourself oan, Kavin."

Kevin, he talked fast. He would - "Sorry, what you say?"

The other guys, they would laugh. "What is he saying?"

I said, "You shouldn't laugh, cos they're going to resent that."

So, we'd had enough, and I stood up for Kevin outside the front door.

Walt and I were going to get into it,

and he was a lot bigger than me -

but then Duke came out, and Duke seen what was going on.

"I don't want you fighting any more. It's a done deal, it's over."

Duke put an end to it,

but that thing of us having to...

I'm sticking up for a Catholic kid and he's sticking up for me,

and looking out for one another.

It definitely drew us together.

So, we kind of united a little bit,

because we were both the aliens in a strange place.

MUSIC: Do Anything You Wanna Do by Eddie & The Hot Rods

After their rocky start, Kevin and John put their differences aside

to enjoy a sun-drenched summer in New York.

# Gonna break out of the city... #

Played baseball and played soccer - we've done everything.

# Searching for adventure.... #

We swam together, ran together, ate breakfast together -

breakfast, lunch and dinner - we did everything together.

It was like a six-week adventure.

We got to go to the Statue Of Liberty.

It just took my breath away.

# Why don't you ask them... #

Being able to eat outside, here, on a picnic table.

Eating pizza.

I remember the first time - it was a Tuesday, and she was making chicken.

And I was shocked. I mean, chicken on a Tuesday!

That was something we had on a Sunday.

It was just a completely different experience.

It definitely... It changed me.

The kind of conflict taking place in Northern Ireland,

part of that conflict was based on not knowing who the other side was.

Demonising them.

Well, it was very hard to demonise John Cheevers

after I spent six weeks with him.

The modest success of that first summer convinced Denis

of the benefit of his idea,

and he was now keen to expand the ambition of the charity.

So, in 1976, we increased our numbers to 21,

which was a big jump from six.

In '77 we did close to 100 kids.

Then we expanded out to Monroe, which is our next town.

You know, up to Middletown.

Then across the river to Poughkeepsie.

The organisation was starting to grow,

bringing more and more children.

Looking back at it now,

it sure did take a life of its own,

but back in them days, you just went from day to day and year to year.

You didn't really give it too much thought.

This year-on-year expansion

meant children from all across Northern Ireland

were getting the chance to enjoy a peaceful

summer in the American suburbs -

but it was an experience that began

before they had even left home.

My only experience of aeroplanes was what I saw on television.

It tended to be people like businessmen with briefcases

or, as I thought of them then, attache cases.

So, when I was getting ready to go,

I insisted, you know,

that I had to be dressed properly to be on this plane.

It's a very serious thing, a very formal thing,

getting onto this plane.

I've got to look the part.

So, we went out shopping,

and I asked for the most American-looking suit

that you could possibly find.

And I also got myself an attache case.

Now, there wasn't anything in it,

but it just seemed to go with the suit.

Cos you just don't know when you need an attache case, right?

I was nine year old, I couldn't wait to go.

I just thought, "Jeez, America, six weeks, during the summer."

I can remember getting my jeans and my tops

and all my clothes

for going away to America.

Every child there was dressed in their Sunday best.

Everybody was well groomed

and looking neat and tidy.

And you'd see this particular flight number, and you just said,

"Memo to self, bed early the night before,"

because you needed to be in the whole of your health

when you were doing that flight,

because these kids ran you up - it was a workout.

CHILDREN CHATTER AND SHOUT

The first hour or two of that flight was chaotic.

Their attention span, like any child, you know -

you can amuse them for five minutes,

and then it was like, "Miss, Miss!"

and it was, "Coke, coke!" and, "What's this, Miss?"

and every button was pushed, and seats were flying back.

If I could have your very special attention...

Everybody had to go to the bathroom,

because everybody just had to see

what the bathroom on a plane looked like.

They murdered the call bells.

You can't actually get more neutral than flying in a plane,

and we were united just in a common experience that was forward-looking,

that was all about the summer that we were about to have.

And I remember everybody trying to press themselves

up against the window to get their first glimpse of America.

I'm surprised the plane didn't tilt over!

Over 400 children from areas of Northern Ireland

most affected by the violence

arrived in America last night for an extended holiday.

And they'd get to New York,

and, of course, everything was so strange.

And as soon as the door opened, hearing bagpipes,

and just this huge giant of a man leading this mass band of bagpipers.

And so, when we landed, we had come to another world.

We'd left all of that behind, and we didn't know what we were going to -

but it was really exciting.

I'd only seen America on TV.

You know, I knew about skyscrapers and the Big Apple

and, you know, the Cosby Show and ET, and, you know, I...

What I knew about America was Hollywood, really.

-REPORTER:

-For three hours before the children arrived

at New York's Kennedy Airport,

the temporary foster parents were waiting.

Some had Irish connections, but many were just ordinary Americans

who had heard about life in the tougher areas

of Belfast and Londonderry

and, in their words, wanted to give the kids a break.

We're going to let her unwind a bit.

The pool, the beach, the Statue of Liberty, the Circle Line tour

of Manhattan, horseback riding - you know, the works.

I want her to go back a very, very happy little girl.

They'll get away from the way they live,

and get a chance to see that not every place is like that.

I think one of the best things is to treat them like your own children -

people who maybe fuss about them too much at the beginning

may run into little problems - or spoil them at the beginning.

I think the big thing is,

you take them into your home and you treat them just like your own.

This is at the Kennedy Airport, New York City, 1981,

and our child there is number 33, Seamus Morris,

and then behind him is my wife, Nancy.

In 1981, Seamus Morris arrived.

Seamus was very friendly,

very outgoing, and very active.

Liked to play sports, soccer - anything he played at, he excelled.

Now, this is Seamus.

You can see he's a pretty good diver.

He gets at least 8.5!

Nice pool in the background.

The pool's been around for about 40 years now.

This was it.

This was the place.

This was where we'd come, where Seamus would come,

and spend our days here.

Spend the entire summer here.

And it was awesome.

He was a friend, and more than that,

looking back on it,

he was like another brother to me.

I'll always remember my time in America. Just everything about it.

You know, things were tough,

and to get to go on a plane for the first time,

and to be heading to America,

it was just something else.

And it was just a world away from Ardoyne.

Conor Morris, Seamus' younger brother,

was also a Project Children child.

So, this is where it happened.

Just down here.

The car was driving down, er...

this street. We were coming out of the wee shop here, and...

..the car slowed, and we had to stop to let the car go by,

and all I heard was the rattle.

Er...

And this is the plaque.

-ARCHIVE REPORTER:

-The shooting happened shortly before noon.

A car drew up in a Catholic area of northwest Belfast.

Eyewitnesses said a number of men got out of the car wearing masks.

There were two bursts of automatic fire

aimed at a group of people standing on the pavement.

A 17-year-old youth died immediately.

A beer lorry attempted to ram the gunmen's car.

One of the men in the cab was shot, and died later in hospital.

At first, I didn't realise what it was.

It was the rattle of gunfire.

I'd got my head down and bolted.

I turned back to see...

..had Seamus got away?

Well.

Unfortunately, he didn't.

I ran over to him and I knew straight away that he was dead.

The blood pumping out the back of his head.

Conor and Seamus were best friends.

They just weren't brothers, they were best friends.

Done everything together.

Played Gaelic together, played pool together every day.

You know, where one was, the other one was.

Best friends.

Um...

Tough on Conor.

I had to leave him and go up and tell my mother.

I had to tell her that Seamus was dead.

Mummy was devastated.

Seamus was Mummy's wee blue eye.

She loved him.

He was her oldest son, you can imagine.

I'm not saying she had any favourites,

but obviously he was her first child, and, you know,

she knew he was going places, and...

She was just devastated.

I was home, and the phone rang,

and I picked up, and it happened to be the aunt of Seamus Morris,

and she told me point-blankly

that Seamus had been killed in the streets of Belfast.

My mother wasn't home, so I had to wait for her to arrive,

and when she did, I told her that Seamus had been killed.

Peter told me, and I broke down.

Peter will tell you, I collapsed.

I was heartbroken.

She took the news very hard.

She pretty much immediately collapsed.

She... She cried. She broke down...

..and she became hysterical.

I had never seen my mother react to anything like that before.

It was... It really felt like she had lost her own child.

Because I felt...

..if we had taken them...

..in...

he wouldn't have been killed.

But you did so much for him, Nancy, at the same time, didn't you?

I thought we did.

-JIM:

-We took it very hard.

It just...was mind-boggling that something like this could happen.

I didn't understand it. I really didn't.

I couldn't understand why someone would kill a...a boy.

Cos, to me, he was still a boy.

And why would they kill him?

I didn't understand that.

Didn't make any sense.

Looking at the Troubles, you know,

what was going on in Northern Ireland,

and the number of people that were getting hurt and killed at the time,

I know that by just bringing the kids out of there,

that we saved a lot of kids' lives.

However, we didn't save everybody.

We did lose a number of kids after returning.

You can't save everyone, Denis, you know? You can't.

No, but you try. You try.

These six weeks have been so great...

But tomorrow, Sunday, is going home day -

and then, back to Belfast, and the Troubles.

Bombing, shooting, endless death.

Jim Van Sickle, NewsCenter 4.

Sending those first children back home in 1975,

having treated them as one of the family,

was an emotional experience for their American parents.

As Seamus Morris' murder would ultimately prove,

Northern Ireland was not a safe place.

Carol and Duke took us to the airport,

there was...tearful goodbyes.

Carol and Duke were crying, they were really sad to see us go.

I was sad, you know?

I think I might have shed a couple of tears myself.

We were heading home.

Taking the kids back to the airport was tough,

and when they went home, it tore us apart.

Hey, when they kids came over here...

-VOICE BREAKS:

-I get emotional!

But when these kids came over here...

that was our family. We started a family.

And I treasure that.

And bringing them back to the airport...

Just seeing people cry, I was the biggest crier there.

And you want to know something?

It was emotional, very emotional, to let them go.

I knew they had to go, cos they had family...

but when they came here, we had two children.

Still the Troubles were ongoing.

It was kind of tough,

where you're leaving go of that young person

that you had all summer,

and you weren't sure what you were sending them back to.

So, that was... You know, it was quite emotional, at the airport.

The kids got very close to each other while they were here,

and I guess, going through their mind, also,

was, when they got home,

would they ever have an opportunity to see each other?

I spoke to them, I said, "Will you guys communicate back...?"

"No." Kevin would say, "No, no.

"They'll beat me up if they found out I was talking to John.

"That's a no-no."

He says, "No," and John says, "It can't, it won't happen."

And then we're on the plane, and we're back home,

and the weirdest part was when Kevin and I said goodbye.

Both of us knew at that time that this was it.

I turned, and... He turned and walked away, and I walked away.

So, even though we were very close together geographically,

I mean, he may as well have lived in South Africa,

for as many times as I was going to see him.

It seemed a little bit cruel at the time,

that we could not remain friends -

but that was the reality.

There was nothing you could do about it.

And I was nine years old, so...

Nothing was going to change because a nine-year-old wanted it to change.

MUSIC: Suspect Device by Stiff Little Fingers

# Inflammable material is planted in my head

# It's a suspect device that's left 2,000 dead

# Their solutions are our problems

# They put up the wall

# On each side time and prime us

# And make sure we get ... all #

By the early 1980s, the Troubles had been raging for over ten years,

and were reaching a new critical phase.

# They deal us to the bottom

# But what do they put back? #

And by the grace of God,

nobody will silence me!

# Don't believe them

# Don't believe them

# Don't be bitten twice

# You gotta suss, suss, suss, suss suss, suss, suspect device

# We're a suspect device if we do what we're told... #

The story of ten Republican prisoners

starving themselves to death

was focusing international news headlines on the hunger strikes.

# We're gonna blow up in their face! #

Stand by in 12.

In three, two, one... Music, mic, cue it.

8:16 right now.

Fighting and violence have been a way of life

in Northern Ireland for many years now.

The issues are complicated...

As Project Children expanded,

the kids who had arrived in America for a holiday

were now finding themselves part of the daily news cycle.

All around America, people wanted to know,

"Why are these children here, and who are they?

"Where are they from, and what's the story?"

And children loved it.

Bernadette McDonnell and Keith Dixon are two of the 160 children

who arrived from Belfast last week.

Good Morning America was the biggest breakfast programme in America -

and to think, we were going to be on that!

They were going to talk about Project Children. Happy days!

It meant the whole of America

was seeing our programme for what it was,

and we were delighted with that.

But the charity that had always steered clear

of taking a political line on the violence

unwittingly found themselves at the centre of international controversy.

-Now, your dad, I think we should, your dad is in prison, right?

-Yes.

-And he is also one of the hunger strikers, isn't he?

-Yes.

They wanted to know what was happening in Ireland,

and what was happening with the hunger strike,

and why my daddy was doing what he'd done, and how did I feel.

Bernadette's father, Joe McDonnell,

was the fifth Republican prisoner

to protest his treatment in the Maze prison by going on hunger strike.

The Republicans were demanding status as political prisoners,

but these demands were repeatedly rejected

by then-British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

Crime is crime is crime. It is not political, it is crime.

Can anybody help the situation, do you think, in Northern Ireland?

Well, if the people of America would write to President Reagan,

he might phone Mrs Thatcher,

and then the pressure would be put on Mrs Thatcher,

and she will have to do something.

Young Bernadette's seemingly innocent response

left Project Children open to accusations of political bias.

It looked like it was political,

it looked like we were putting that child up - and we weren't.

Project Children wasn't political. It didn't want to be political -

but when you consider the children that we were taking

came from political backgrounds,

and those children brought that baggage with them.

I didn't think it was going to cause any trouble,

or, you know, papers would have picked it up different,

or put headlines to things -

it was just me telling them ones what was happening to my family.

After 61 days on hunger strike, Joe McDonnell died,

and Bernadette's American holiday was cut short.

Ten men would ultimately starve themselves to death

inside the Maze prison.

The Northern Irish situation remained as intractable as ever.

The key to understanding the relationship

between Britain and America through the 1980s

was the relationship between Mrs Thatcher and Ronald Reagan.

That relationship was extremely close on personal terms,

but also on political terms, too,

because they were both conservative, right wing ideologues,

so, there was no chance of any political progress

as long as Mrs Thatcher was in Downing Street

and Ronald Reagan was in the White House.

With seemingly no end to the violence,

more and more American families signed up as Project Children hosts,

meaning that the charity was now spreading far beyond

its heartland of New York and New Jersey.

Its arrival in Washington DC, the American capital,

would mark the beginning of a process

that would see it directly influence

the political situation in Northern Ireland.

A friend of ours in New York had read about Denis

and Project Children in a New York newspaper,

so, we took a couple of boys -

one Protestant, one Catholic -

for one summer,

and then, by that time, friends had begun to notice,

and were inquiring about, you know, "How do you do this?"

and so, before you know it,

I found myself on the phone with Denis, saying, you know,

"We think we've got a potential group of host families here."

I'm Carol Wheeler.

Every summer, like hundreds of families around the country,

my husband and I welcome one or two children from Northern Ireland

into our home for a six-week visit.

In 1988 I was invited to a fundraiser,

and a neighbour, who knew Carol Wheeler,

invited - we all went together,

I think it was the second fundraiser

for Project Children in Washington.

Carol Wheeler and her husband, Tom,

a couple well known in Washington political circles,

spearheaded the effort to nourish Project Children

in the shadow of Capitol Hill and the White House itself.

It's fair to say that our house sort of became the focal point

of getting Project Children launched in DC,

and as we tried to shake the trees and find the money

to support the Project Children programme here,

I think it really is safe to say that a lot more people in Washington

became much more aware of what was going on in Northern Ireland.

I think that's why Project Children was so compelling,

because you heard the story about how it was affecting young children.

The Washington DC host families made sure those compelling stories

were heard by as many people as possible in the corridors of power.

What do tourists do when they come to Washington?

You want to go to the Capitol, so we thought,

why shouldn't we take the kids to the Capitol

and have them meet members of Congress?

They are the ones who govern our country.

Very soon, those youngsters

are either going to be the people that are doing the bombing,

or they're going to be the people that are struggling for peace,

and when you still have youngsters

that are only eight, nine, ten, 11 years old,

you still have hope.

This is, in fact, the process of peace -

so I think it's probably much more important

that we end up providing for the youngsters, for the kids,

than if we did for all the great leaders.

Project Children did help.

It was one of the things that helped to humanise the Troubles

for a lot of people.

It helped to humanise it for some individuals

who actually were in positions where they could have an impact

on, you know, encouraging the peace process.

With Project Children beginning to penetrate

the political establishment of Washington DC,

it was also influencing the lives of children

in ways the original founders

of the Greenwood Lake Gaelic Cultural Society

could never have imagined.

I was single, and I thought - I'd just bought a house, I thought,

"I have this whole house to myself,

"I should put it to some good use,"

and I thought it might be fun.

Mary Anne Sullivan, a Washington lawyer,

welcomed ten-year-old Frankie Hughes into her home in 1988.

I grew up in West Belfast.

Where I first lived was a neighbourhood

called the Divis flats,

and, actually, one of my first memories,

I think I was probably about five years old at the time,

there was a bomb went off on the ground just below the apartment.

I was on the third floor.

You know, it's a very daunting, frightening feeling.

When this opportunity came for Frankie to go to America,

why hold him back?

And his mummy didn't want him to go,

and I kept saying to her, "He's getting a golden opportunity here.

"It's like winning the lottery or something,

"because we don't get any holidays or anything.

"Get him out of here safe, even if it's only for six weeks.

"Get him out."

Little did Frankie's dad know then,

but that one summer would help shape the rest of his son's life.

Frankie's aspirations for himself, when he first came to the States,

were very low.

That first summer I came out, an interviewer like yourself

asked me the question, you know,

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

and I don't think I'd really thought about it too much.

On the spur of the moment, I said, "A binman."

I guess I just didn't think that far ahead when I was young.

Living in my house, he couldn't help but understand

that I considered education very important.

In Mary Anne's house, it was, you know -

if you have some downtime, you're going to read a book.

I'd do a lot of pretend reading.

When I first got there, you know, I'd look at the page and,

like, "Yeah, I'm reading the book."

Frankie's initial reluctance was

resolved with a uniquely American approach to education.

During the summers she would actually pay me to read.

I think she started off 50 cents an hour.

I was always looking for opportunities to encourage him

to read more, to pay more attention in school,

to be more of a serious student when he went home.

I would keep track of the hours I was studying when I was back

in Belfast, when I was 16.

And I would send her a bill for the hours I was studying and she

would send me a cheque.

Incentivised by Mary Anne, Frankie moved to America permanently

when he was 16.

I felt as proud as any mother ever felt when

he graduated from high school and then when he graduated from college.

SCHOOL BELL RINGS

The boy who arrived in Washington with desires to be

a garbage collector is now teaching English literature to

American high school students.

That is going to, again, set off a whole other chain of events.

His whole life has all changed.

He's a wonderful guy and he's got a good future over there.

If he'd have stayed here, God knows, he might have got involved in

trouble, he could have been killed, could have been hurt.

You don't know. So I think it was a wise decision.

I've no...

..difficulties with it. I'm glad I've done what I done.

And Frankie's glad, too.

Some families had thought about bringing kids back to go to

school or get them out of harm's way but that really wasn't the purpose

of the programme, you know,

to separate kids from their families or whatever.

Despite the charity's reservations, many who had travelled with

Project Children saw their former host families as a way out.

In the month before his brutal murder, young Seamus Morris

was convinced his future lay across the Atlantic with

Jim and Nancy Stanfield.

He said he would always love to go back to the Stanfields

because, obviously, they made a big impact on his life.

And, I dare say, one day he would have.

"Dear James & Nancy, I'm sure you will be surprised to be

"hearing from us.

'It has been quite a while since I have written to you and now

"that I am it is to ask something of you."

We did get a letter from Seamus's mother in 1987.

And she asked us if we might be able to have him come back.

Because things were not good there.

"Seamus has been saving money from his job every week.

"Have you any ideas that would help him to get out?

"We would miss him a lot as he is a very good lad, but his father

"and I both think that it would be a better life for him."

We had sold our business at the time.

We were thinking of moving to Cape Cod.

So I kind of put that letter on hold.

Then the following summer we got the phone call

that Seamus had been killed.

"I will enclose a photo of the kids, so until I hear from you,

"all our love and best wishes to all your family.

"Love from Seamus and Madeleine."

I had never seen you like that.

And I haven't seen you like that since.

You were very affected by it.

I still am. Just talking about it today,

I'm...emotional.

I am.

I felt very guilty.

I did feel like I had lost one of my own.

Because I felt during those six weeks while

he was there that I was his mother.

Carol and Duke would take us to our different churches.

Duke would take me to the Holy Rosary Catholic Church and

Carol would take John to the Lutheran Church in Greenwood Lake.

I always figured I got the better of the deal because the Catholic

mass was only about half an hour.

And John was in the Lutheran Church for about two hours.

I think after a while he was a wee bit jealous of me.

Having formed a friendship during their American summer of 1975,

Kevin Brady and John Cheevers never expected to see each other

again in their divided Belfast.

It was completely surreal.

We just spent six great weeks together and I'm never going

to ever see you again...

..because you're a Catholic and I'm a Protestant.

But back in Greenwood Lake, Carol and Duke Hoffman were

hoping the boys would return.

I cried probably for two weeks after they left.

Definitely, definitely missed them.

And I was concerned about their welfare.

It was incredible the bonds that were formed over the six weeks and,

of course, everybody wanted to bring back the same child they had before.

So the rule we came up with was if you want to repeat the child

you'll have to cover the airfare.

In line with the rules of the charity, the Hoffmans reached into

their own pockets to bring Kevin and John back to Greenwood Lake

not only in 1976 but for years afterwards.

They were back and forth quite a few years and then they wound up

going to school here.

I thought they'd get an education over here better than

they'd get an education over there.

And they wouldn't have to live in the atmosphere they were living in.

Worrying about bombs and cars and shootings.

This connection to their American parents eventually led to

both boys relocating permanently.

The two suspicious kids from Belfast would eventually become

best man at each other's weddings.

Carol and Duke have been a huge part of my life ever since I was

about eight years old.

I'm extremely excited to see them.

I have a debt of gratitude to them that can never be repaid.

My God! Back again.

-Hey!

-Hey!

-Oh, my God!

Great to see you. Look at you.

-I got old, I know.

-No, you didn't. You got small!

You lost weight since the last time I saw you.

-A wee bit. A wee bit.

-John's going to be over later. He's not here yet.

-Look at these pictures. Look how young you were then.

-My goodness.

You remember these pictures here?

I do indeed. I remember going to the Statue of Liberty.

CAR HORN HONKS

-John's here. Go open the door.

-All right. Let me get it.

DOORBELL DINGS

-Jesus! How are you?

-Good to see you, man.

You look great.

-How you doing, Kevin?

-You look great. Doing all right.

Doing all right.

-You're looking well.

-Thanks.

-You've got less grey than I do.

-I've got less hair.

-What's up?

-How you doing?

They've got a couple of dodgy pictures of us from the old days.

Sounds good.

-There's a good one there.

-That's the definition of a cheap suit.

THEY LAUGH

-What size was it?

-I don't even know. I didn't have the belt on right.

That was my funeral suit.

-The old room.

-Yeah.

-My God, it's a bit smaller, isn't it?

-Yeah.

-There was two single beds.

-And you were on that side?

-Yep.

There used to be a picture of Jesus on the wall.

I always felt like he was staring at me for some reason.

Used to drive me nuts.

In our house we had two people looking at you,

John Kennedy and the Pope.

THEY LAUGH

Belfast was grey, this place was in colour.

Just to have that weight off your shoulders was amazing.

-Exactly.

-It felt safe being here.

BAGPIPES PLAY

Diffusing tensions among the children of Northern Ireland's Troubles

was a fulfilling, yet ironic legacy for Denis Mulcahy,

who, at the same time was working on the front line with

New York City's bomb squad.

It was a job not without its dangers.

Brian's sacrifice saved lives in our community.

He's somebody that will be remembered and honoured here

in the bomb squad and by the NYPD forever.

They were tough years in the city.

You had to know what you're doing in that business.

You can't wing it.

Denis has built up a reputation that other bomb techs want to

be like him.

He shows all the qualities, he's been around, he's had the big cases.

And particularly guys in our squad,

when something happens, that's the guy they want to go to, pull

on his coat-tail and ask him,

"Denis, what should we be doing here?"

The older you get, the more senile you get.

Denis was the last line of defence against New York City's

domestic terrorist groups.

When you come up in the package you are going to do what you have

to do because there is nobody you can call.

You are the end of the line.

And as far as saying, "Well, there will always be somebody with me."

Well, there won't, because you're it.

You have to stay focused, it's very important.

After, it's a different story.

You take off the suit and, you know,

not that you second guess yourself but you have more time to

think about what might have happened or could have happened.

And my thing with dealing with any kind of suspicious package

is time on the package.

If you hang around down there long enough you're going to get hurt.

Get down, get it done, get out of there.

As Denis led Project Children into its third decade intervening

in the lives of children from Northern Ireland,

change was afoot in Washington.

The situation changed when Bill Clinton became president.

Bill Clinton was sympathetic to the cause of Irish Nationalism.

Bill Clinton recognised that there had to be a political solution.

As a dynamic new president worked out how best to broker

a lasting solution in Northern Ireland, Project Children

host families were fast becoming part of the American

political establishment.

We welcomed Michael to our family. There were really no trepidations.

Some curiosity about where he came from and what

he would be like and so forth but he really fit in quite well.

I think it helped him to form a bond with us and with the US and

certainly it did for us with Ireland because my involvement in

Ireland after that just mushroomed.

It was a way in which you could be involved very directly

without having to take sides.

Project Children smoothed the way for the peace process in

Northern Ireland before there was a peace process in Northern Ireland.

Kitty Higgins was among the first Washington DC host families.

We were happy to have a child come live with us for the summer.

We have an extra bed, we have a seat at the table.

We want to help and I think Americans are generous people,

by and large.

Particularly when they see need.

First of all, the way I became aware of Denis was

because of Kathryn Higgins,

who worked for me.

Kitty's job at the heart of the Clinton administration would

soon collide the personal and political worlds of

Project Children and Denis Mulcahy.

Every year there are top cops selected from around the

country and in 1995 Denis was selected as one of those top cops.

And part of that honour is to come to the White House and have

an opportunity to meet the president.

Mr President, Denis Mulcahy, New York City Bomb Squad.

As we were leaving, I walked down the hallway

and Kitty Higgins, who was secretary of the cabinet,

who had been a prior host family, was walking up.

I knew Denis, I knew the president.

And I wanted to make sure the president knew that this was

just no ordinary top cop.

That Denis Mulcahy also had this brilliant idea to help

advance peace and understanding in Northern Ireland.

So she said, "You have to go back in again."

So she takes me from the group back into the Oval Office.

The one thing about President Clinton,

if you had an opinion on something, he would listen.

And I think if you're going to bring peace anywhere,

you really have to listen to everybody.

He'd been this heroic, almost legendary figure in the

New York Police Department because of his work on the bomb squad.

And all along he and his wife had been doing this amazing work

with no pay, all volunteer work.

And I though that he symbolised, so much, the hope that I had for

the peace process, for what could happen.

That meeting with Denis would help influence how

President Clinton approached the whole issue of Northern Ireland.

I think President Clinton and Hillary Clinton picked up on the

Mulcahys because they know a good thing when they see it.

They know when something, I think, accomplishes a number of things.

It really pulls at the heartstrings of people.

For the first time in the 30-year conflict, there was now