There’s six men in Birmingham / in Guildford there’s four / who were picked up and tortured / and framed by the law / and the filth get promotion / while they’re still doing time / for being Irish in the wrong place and at the wrong time
HUGH CALLAGHAN
March 24, 1930 – May 27, 2023
Last week saw the sad death at 93 of Hugh Callaghan, one of the Birmingham Six wrongly jailed for IRA bombings in 1974. Back then he was one of many who made up the huge Irish community in England. Their numbers were massive and concentrated in most of England’s big cities. They arrived with the prospect of work and a better life the reason for their exile from home. Hugh led a ordinary working class life like the majority of the Irish over here, with his wife Eileen and their daughter Geraldine in a small terraced council house, working as a welder, visiting the pub and watching Aston Villa. Then on November 22nd 1974 all would change forever as he was arrested at his front door in the Erdington area of Birmingham, swept away and for the following few days he was severely beaten, scared out of his wits, tortured and deprived of food and sleep until he was forced to sign a false confession.
“I was threatened with snarling police dogs… The interrogators did not ease up… threats interspersed with a kick or a hit around the head. I was told the others had all implicated me. I was deprived of sleep and food. By the following afternoon I was a broken man. I signed the confession — I would have signed anything to get them off my back.”
Raised in poverty in the small Catholic enclave of Ardoyne in Belfast he came to England in the late 40’s in search of work and settled in Birmingham. Like many immigrants the Irish did the jobs the English didn’t want to do and in Birmingham it was that Irish labour that built not only it’s most famous landmarks, Spaghetti Junction and the Rotunda but also many canals, roads and railways in the city.
And farewell you streets of pain
I’ll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slain
Through the last six years I’ve lived through terror
And in the darkened streets the pain
Oh how I long to find some solace
In my mind I curse the strain
So farewell you streets of sorrow
And farewell you streets of pain
No I’ll not return to feel more sorrow
Nor to see more young men slain
☘
That were picked up and tortured
And framed by the law
And the filth got promotion
And at the wrong time
In Ireland they’ll put you away in the maze
In England they’ll keep you for seven long days
And they walk through that door
☘
You’ll be counting years
First five, then ten
Growing old in a lonely hell
Round the yard and the stinking cell
From wall to wall, and back again
☘
A curse on the judges, the coppers and screws
Who tortured the innocent, wrongly accused
For the price of promotion
And justice to sell
May the whores of the empire lie awake in their beds
And sweat as they count out the sins on their heads
While over in Ireland eight more men lie dead
WHAT HAPPENED IN BIRMINGHAM
On Thursday, November 21, 1974, two bombs exploded at the Mulberry Bush pub, at the foot of the Rotunda, and at the Tavern in the Town, in New Street, in Birmingham at 8:25 PM and 8:27 PM. The explosions would kill 21 and injure 182 and responsibility was taken by the Provisional Irish Republican Army. A third device, outside a bank in Hagley Road, failed to detonate. Six men were arrested that night, Patrick Hill, Gerry Hunter, Richard McIlkenny, Billy Power and Johnny Walker in Lancashire and Hugh Callaghan back in Birmingham. All were Roman Catholics and from the north of Ireland and had lived in Birmingham since at least the 1960’s. Five of the six left Birmingham on the evening of the 21st before the explosions to travel home to Belfast to attend the funeral of James McDade, a Provisional IRA member who had been recently accidentally killed planting a bomb in Coventry. In November 28, 1974, the men now known as the Birmingham Six appeared in court after being remanded into custody. They all showed clear signs of severe physical assault and ill-treatment. Fourteen officers would be charged and acquitted of their beatings and later a civil claim for damages in 1980 for the Six against the West Midlands Police was struck out.
The trial is held in June and the Six are found guilty of murder and sentenced to twenty-one life sentences each. In 1976 their first application to appeal is dismissed. Their second, in 1991, is allowed because of new evidence of police fabrication and suppression of evidence, the confessions are revealed to have been forced and the debunking of forensic evidence causes the Court of Appeal to announce the convictions are unsafe and unsatisfactory and on a glorious day in March day just before St. Patrick’s Day the Birmingham Six are set free having spent almost 17 years in various prisons.

The Birmingham 6 on the day of their release. From left to right – John Walker, Paddy Hill. Hugh Callaghan, Chris Mullin (author and prominent advocate of the Six), Richard McIlkenny, Gerry Hunter and William Power, outside the Old Bailey in London in 1991
The bombings occurred at a time of escalation in the war in the north of Ireland. Just 2 years on from Bloody Sunday and the State sanctioned massacre of 13 people on the streets on Derry by the British Army. Bombings and murders were commonplace and the decision was made by the IRA to bring the war to the mainland. Public buildings like the Old Bailey and the Houses of Parliament among others were targeted and pub bombings would claim the lives of five in Guildford in October, 1974. As in Birmingham the Police were under enormous pressure and soon arrested 4 innocent people, Paul Hill, Gerry Conlon, Paddy Armstrong, and Carole Richardson, who again as in the Birmingham 6 case would be sentenced to life imprisonment and released decades later, despite it being clear that they were innocent. During their time in prison the men were routinely assaulted. Hugh would reveal
“I got some beatings in there from the screws. The other prisoners didn’t like you because they knew what you were in for.”
He had hot tea and cans of food thrown in his face and all Six were segregated for their own protection. All the time the only people to back them were the Irish community and their newspapers. Ignored by the wider media and the left the murmurs in the places where the Irish met, in the pubs and churches and social events were of the innocence of the Birmingham Six and Guildford Four. Campaigns started led by the Irish community over here and eventually the case began to gain notoriety and not before time the case had become clear as a great miscarriage of justice. Scared of people losing faith in the country’s institutions of law and order the British government decided that to keep these innocent men in jail was worth it. Lord Denning during the civil action in 1980 brought by the Six infamously said
“If the six men win, it will mean that the police were guilty of perjury, that they were guilty of violence and threats, that the confessions were involuntary and were improperly admitted in evidence and that the convictions were erroneous. That would mean the Home Secretary would either have to recommend they be pardoned or he would have to remit the case to the Court of Appeal. This is such an appalling vista that every sensible person in the land would say: It cannot be right these actions should go any further”
He would later go even further and say
”If the six had been hanged, we shouldn’t have all these campaigns to get them released”.
After his release Hugh Callaghan moved to London, and published an autobiography, Cruel Fate in 1994. He was involved in various Irish organisations and was an enthusiastic member of the Irish Pensioners’ Choir, performing with them many times including at the London St. Patrick’s parade. His wife Eileen died in 2014 and Hugh is survived by his partner, Adeline Masterson, and his daughter Geraldine. A statement announcing his passing from family friends said “He was a man with astonishing strength of character. Despite the profound injustice he endured, he was not bitter or angry, but joyful and always ready to sing. His party piece was Danny Boy, and his voice was magnificent and strong right to end, with the last day of his life spent with his beloved Adeline, singing to the nurses in hospital but we know the last years of his life were full of love, singing, dancing and Irish music. We will continue to try and live the values of forgiveness and gentle optimism that Hugh taught us.”