On Tuesday 26th May, 1992, I flew from Liverpool with my father James McVann ( born 7/1902) to visit the homeland of his granddad. We landed at Knock where we picked up a hire car, a Toyota Starlet, and set off on our search for the Irish McVanns.
Our first mission was to have a meal so we stopped at a restaurant in Charlestown, called the Broadway. We asked the waitress if she knew any McVanns and she said she had gone to school with two McVanns who lived in Curry, just a couple of miles down the road. After an excellent meal of fish and chips we thanked the waitress Sinead and drove off to Curry.
On arrival in Curry we saw a grocers shop called Howleys and decided to enquire of the whereabouts of the McVann family. The young man in the shop was just giving me directions when he said, “ Oh there’s Mary McVann now.” Crossing the road was Mary McVan and I introduced myself and my dad. . She was delighted to meet Jimmy and couldn’t believe that he was 90 yrs of age – she said he looked more like a 60 year old ( the Irish are excellent at flattery!)
Meeting Mary was certainly a stroke of good fortune as she loved to talk and was very interested in the history of the McVanns. She said that all the McVanns were related and originated from Cloonacool a small village outside Tubbercurry.
She explained that her husband’s name was Michael and that his grandfather was Michael ( Rory) McVann and that his father in turn was called Michael. She had two sons called John and Dermot both of whom lived with her at Carrarea, Curry, Ballymote.
Mary was most helpful and took us to see Tess Higgins, nee Gilmore, whose grandmother was a McVann and the sister of Rory McVann. She made us most welcome, and after a cup of tea and some cake we departed to Mary’s home.
"Dad with Mary McVann"
What a start to the holiday. We’d only been in Ireland 5 hours and already we felt that we had discovered the very heartland of the McVann clan!
Having dropped Mary off at home she volunteered to spend the next day with us taking us round the McVanns. How generous this was, we left rejoicing at our good luck meeting Mary.
Now for somewhere to spend the night. Our very good fortune continued as we drove along the road to Sligo we passed through a village called Tubbercurry where we noticed a bed and breakfast sign. Enquiries revealed the owner to be Anne and Tom Kelly who had a lovely little daughter called Sinead – another coincidence, as this was the same name as the waitress whose information had paid such rich dividends.
The bungalow was beautifully clean and she had a double room with twin beds, which we booked for two nights. We drove in to Sligo, which is a beautiful town on the coast then came back and had an early night.
We started the next day early with a 7:45am breakfast of porridge, bacon and eggs sausages and tomatoes- delicious.
We set off to Cloonacool and whilst we were searching for the church we saw a priest striding along through the village. I introduced myself and dad and when he heard our name he was genuinely delighted and said his Parish Priest was Thomas Augustine McVann whom he had known for many years. He directed me to a family that lived at the far end of Cloonacool and told me that the lady was called Cissy Dwyer, but she was a McVann before marriage. He also told me of a farmer at Kilcummin called John McVann.
We drove to Johns farm, which was directly opposite an old graveyard. Having a fascination for graveyards I stumbled through the overgrown grass seeking a stone bearing the name McVann. Lo and behold, my luck was really in for there I the far corner of the graveyard was a stone which bore the following inscription- John McVann died 1883 aged 76 years and his son James McVann erected in their fond memory by his son John. It was well worth the scratches and nettles to see this and I took a photo of it.
Leaving the graveyard I crossed the road and drove down the long driveway to the McVann farm. There was no one in the farm but the first thing I noticed as I approached the back door was the key sticking out of the lock. It was obvious from the lack of security that burglary and other crimes ere unknown; how reassuring that such places still exist!
I
knocked on the door and Anne McVann answered. As soon as I introduced myself she
asked us in and made us most welcome with a cup of tea. Fortunately she was
interested in genealogy and brought out the family tree. This revealed that her
husband John’s father was called Thomas and his grandfather was called John. I
arranged to call back at 6 o’clock but just as we were leaving John arrived
home. He bore a remarkable resemblance to my sons and myself and I felt a real
kinship towards him. Mary took a
photograph of the three of us together and we left with warm handshakes all
round and a promise to return when we came back to Ireland. 
"John McVann"
As we drove away we passed the house that Father Lawrence said that Cissy Dwyer lived at. We were due to meet Mary at 12noon and by this time it was 11:30 so we didn’t have much time. I knew we couldn’t stay long but as we were so near I stopped and went to the front door which was slightly open and a radio was playing music. I shouted, "Ciss" but there was no reply so I went back to the car. As I did so I looked in the garden, which was bedecked with flowers and lovingly tended. As I reached the car I saw an elderly lady walking along the field alongside the house with another lady. I went to her and said, “ Are you Cissy Dwyer?” "Yes", she said "Are you a McVann?" I was delighted to be recognised so readily. We introduced ourselves and promised to return then set off to meet Mary. In our short conversation she gave me the name of yet another McVann called Kate Connolly, who lived nearby and was Cissy’s aunty
Rejoicing at our good fortune dad and I rushed to meet Mary, who we met walking near Howleys shop. She took us to the local presbytery in Curry and Father Joyce, who was a delightful man, took us into his front room, made us tea and sat us at a large table, producing all the records in large leather-bound books. Sadly the records only dated back to 1865 so by this time my family lived in Blackburn, Lancashire in England.
However, not to be deterred, we thanked father Joyce then travelled with Mary to Tobbercurry, where we found Father Gavigan cutting the church grass with a large lawnmower. I approached him and said, “ I’m sorry to disturb you whilst you’re cutting the grass Father.” Without breaking from his task he replied, “ Oh you’re not disturbing me, come back in twenty minutes I’ll have finished then.” A lovely sense of humour and done so beautifully.
We went to a local hotel and had a delicious lunch of gammon then returned to the church to find the lawns looking immaculate and Father Gavigan ready to help in our quest. As we went into the church I saw a grave of James McVann died 18th Augst,1942- yet another family member who was a minister of the church.
Inside the church was beautiful and the priest produced a computerised index of all the entries which saved a lot of thumbing through registers. He did say that the name McVann was variously spelt in the records as McCavan, Mcavan, McEvan so not to be put off if the spelling was not exactly the same. After another cup of tea and cakes we returned to Curry.
There we called to see Chris McVann who was the widow of James McVann who had died only 8 months previously at the age of 73. His son Michael was there and he was a policeman in the Guarda. Once again the hospitality was marvellous. Chris showed me a photo of her niece Olive, who is a Nun, talking to the Pope. She told me the family lineage; her husband’s father was called Patric and his grandfather was called Patric. James had obviously broken with tradition calling his eldest Michael, then Patrick, and Anne. James also had two brothers Michael and Patrick. Michael, who was an officer in the Guarda had 6 children Theresa, Adrian, Olive, Michael, Patrick and Morag. The third brother Patrick was married to Mary but had no children.
After enjoying their marvellous hospitality I took photos of Dad with Chris and son Michael then left to visit Patrick and Mary.
Dad with Chris McVann
Their house was at Rathmaguury and Patrick recounted a story told to him long ago by a very old man called Mr Kennedy who said that a family of McVanns had lived at Rathmaggury in a house at the bottom of Patrick’s field, the shell of which was still discernible, but had left to England years ago and never been heard of since. This we assumed was Dad's great granddad, granddad and gt Uncle who left for Blackburn in 1846/7. Delicious ham sandwiches were consumed and cups of tea drunk before we bade a fond farewell to Patrick and Mary, taking a photo of course We took Mary home and thanked her profusely for such a wonderful guided tour.
Once again we visited Sligo and stood beside the magnificent cannon on the sea wall and admired the marvellous view and the surrounding mountains.
We were in bed for 9:30pm and the next morning we were up early and said farewell to Mrs Kelly, Tom and Sinead who had made our stay so comfortable. We returned to see Cissy Dwyer. She told us her full name was Harmonia Veronica which explained why she preferred the appellation Cissy. She was a mine of information and spoke entertainingly for over an hour about her family. Her sister Kathleen rang and Cissy let me speak to her on the phone, they were all so very friendly. Sis said her father was called Peter and his father was called James. Peter had a brother called Patrick James who died when he was 24 years old; he also had a sister called Kate who was the lady I had spoken to on the phone. His wife was called Mary Ann and they had 5 children James, John, Whinny, Harnoria and Kathleen. We could have listened all day to Cissy's stories but we had a plane to catch so we left after taking a photo with Dad.
We then went to Ballaghadereen and I spoke to a man in the churchyard there. When I told him my name was McVann he held me warmly by both hands and said it was a privilege to meet a relative of Father McVann who had been a priest at that church for over 20 years. It just showed what a religious lot we McVanns are!
After a final meal in Charlestown we drove to the airport and flew from Ireland in a fierce thunder storm- obviously angry that we were leaving!