Eighteen centuries of it, as far as anyone can show. Every
entry below says where it comes from, and says plainly when the answer is
"the story goes" rather than "the record shows".
Record written down at the time, or by historians working from what was
Tradition handed down — worth keeping, not the same as evidence
Before the nameTradition
Druim Damhghaire, the Ridge of the Oxen
The older name for this hill has nothing to do with encampments. It is
Druim Damhghaire — the Ridge of the Oxen — and it is the
name the place carries in the early literature, before the one on the
signposts today.
The two names sit on top of one another, which is why the village can be
explained twice and both explanations be repeated locally without either
being wrong.
The name in use today, Cnoc Loinge, is read as the Hill
of the Encampment. The tradition behind it is that the high king
Cormac mac Airt pitched his camp here when he invaded
Munster in the third century, and that the druid Mug Ruith
helped defeat his forces.
There is a second reading of the same words. Cnoc Loinge has
also been translated as the Hill of the Ships — the tents ranged along the
ridge looking like ships under sail.
This belongs to the literature rather than the record. It is a story
about the hill that has been told for a very long time, which is a
different thing from a thing that can be shown to have happened.
A second account attaches to the same hill about four hundred years
later: Dioma, King of Thomond, stopping the Connacht men
from recovering County Clare — a battle said to have secured Clare for the
Dalcassians.
The castle standing over the village is a square tower house, built on
the hill with the views that made the position worth holding. It was the
principal seat of the O'Hurleys, and it is theirs through
the whole of its working life.
In the 1930s the Irish Folklore Commission had schoolchildren across the
country write down what their families told them. The Knocklong school —
Cnoc Luinge, roll number 11665 — recorded an account of
Dermot O'Hurley being surprised at his dwelling at
Knocklong Castle, tortured with his bare feet in iron boots filled with
boiling oil, and then hanged, drawn and quartered.
Read this as folklore, because that is what it is
The Schools' Collection is a record of what was believed and
told in a parish in the 1930s, and that is exactly what makes it
valuable. It is not a record of what happened in the 1580s. Historians
generally place Archbishop Dermot O'Hurley's origins elsewhere in County
Limerick. Both things can be printed here honestly as long as neither is
dressed up as the other.
The castle was held by Sir Morris Hurley until his estate was
confiscated by the Cromwellian government in 1655. That is
the end of the O'Hurleys as the people who owned the hill.
The title outlived the land. A Baronet of Knocklong
still existed a generation later — Sir William Hurly, third baronet, from
1684 to 1691.
Knocklong station opened on 17 March 1849, on the Great
Southern & Western Railway's main line between Dublin and Cork, just
south of Limerick Junction.
It is worth pausing on the date, because everything else on this page
for the next century runs through that platform. A village on a main line
is a different place from a village off one — and seventy years later it
is precisely because the Cork train stopped here that Knocklong
ends up in the national story twice inside twelve months.
Seán Hogan was being taken by train to Cork under guard
by four armed RIC men. It was his eighteenth birthday. When the train
stopped at Knocklong, his comrades were waiting on the platform.
The rescue party was three of the Third Tipperary Brigade —
Seán Treacy, Dan Breen and
Séumas Robinson — together with five men of the Galtee
Battalion of the East Limerick Brigade. In the fighting in the carriage,
Sergeant Peter Wallace and Constable Michael
Enright were killed. Treacy and Breen were both seriously wounded.
Hogan came off the train still handcuffed. The irons were cut off him in
the village — in the local butcher's shop, by Seán Lynch.
It is the detail that keeps the whole thing anchored to this village
rather than to a map reference.
A year and three days after the rescue, the creamery workers took the
creamery. On 16 May 1920 the workers at the Knocklong
creamery — owned by the Cleeves group — deposed the general manager,
Riordan, ran up a red flag over the central plant, and
hung out a banner.
We make butter, not profits. Knocklong Creamery Soviet.
It was not a shutdown, and that is the part worth understanding. They
kept making butter. Contracts to sell it had been arranged before the
takeover, deals were made with the local farmers so the milk kept arriving,
and twelve satellite creameries came out with them.
It lasted five days. The workers stood down on 22 May
having won a pay rise, shorter hours, and the removal of the manager.
CIÉ closed Knocklong to passengers in March 1977, one
hundred and twenty-eight years after it opened.
The signal cabin outlived the passengers by another eleven years. It
stayed in use until 1988, when the mechanical signalling
on the line was replaced with modern CTC, and was taken away afterwards.
The concrete goods shed on the down side — an unusual thing to build a
goods shed out of — is still there.
William Coffey, recipient of the Victoria Cross, is
listed among the people associated with Knocklong.
— Knocklong, Wikipedia
Something here wrong, or something missing?
This page is built from published sources and nothing else — no filling in
the gaps from memory. If you know a date, a name or a correction, and
especially if you can point at where it is written down, put it on the
noticeboard and it will go in.