Introduction

Only the foolish or foul would deny that January 22, 1901 marked the end of an era.

Thousands, nay millions, mourned as word spread of the passing of a legend who inspired an empire. Bells were rung, prayers were said, and even the doxies and nautch-girls took the night off to show their respect. Indeed, it was a momentous occasion. A time when denizens of a vast dominion thought about how far they had come, and how much it was due to the remarkable presence of one individual.

And yes, all the hullabaloo around Queen Victoria's death made planning for Michael Flannigan's funeral very difficult for Emily Chesley, his only surviving relative.

Working the land where Flannigan was born: Ireland.

Flannigan had left strict instructions in his last will and testament that he should: "be planted next to me darling Ma in the land where I was born, and too long away from it at that." Chesley hired a reputable funeral parlor in London, Ontario, to make the arrangements, letting them know that the Flannigan family originated in Ennis, Co. Clare, Ireland.

So wasn't Chesley surprised, when the corpse returned, much the riper, with a note from the Cadaverous Brothers that indeed, there were no Flannigans related to Michael in that fine town? Chagrined, the dutiful niece had her uncle cremated, intending to go to Ireland herself, find the truth of the matter and "plant" him at her leisure.

It was not until the last decade of Chesley's own life, in 1939, that she learned the truth -- Flannigan was not really her uncle.

Chapter 1
Born in an Age of Invention

"It is as shocking a revelation to me as was Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity. No doubt as absurd as it sounds, the man who has acted not only as my guardian angel, but as my Inspiration, was not my uncle at all. As far as the records go, I can only guess that he was my great uncle, or perhaps, my great-great uncle. One wonders that if his first test of the Nostril-Stretching-and-Hair-Clipping Apparatus had not gone so horribly wrong, if the avuncular man I thought I knew so well might not still be alive today?"

-Emily Chesley's journal, August 21, 1939

The truth that Emily Chesley=s trip to Ireland revealed was a shocking one: Michael Flannigan was born in 1783, somewhere in Co. Kerry, possibly near Cloghane or Castlegregory. His name was registered with the Parish of Dingle B son of Mary Catherine and Joseph Flannigan, b. November 21, 1783. That is all that is known of either parent, or indeed, the first fifteen years of his life; Flannigan is not unusual in this, as very little is known about most Irish Catholic peasants of the period.

What can be said is that Michael Flannigan came into the world in a tumultuous time. Britain was still reeling from the butt-humping it suffered in the American Colonies; the Peace of Paris was signed earlier that month, and marked the nadir of British fortunes. The French Revolution was just a few years away, and the devastating Napoleonic wars would soon follow.

Into this uncertain geopolitical environment the flora of genius flourished. Yes, Flannigan was born in an age of invention.

The Montgolfier brothers ascend over the skies of France as Flannigan is born.  An omen of how his genius will soar?

So it is no coincidence that while the Montgolfier brothers made history with the first instance of manned (non-lethal) flight, in the western bog-end of Europe, Mary Catherine Flannigan was squeezing out Michael. In the years proceeding and following Flannigan's nativity, James Watt was refining his steam engine. The babe had no idea how important hot air was going to be in his life, and not just in the gassy breast-feeding years.

Flannigan does not appear in the historical record again until the 1796, two years before the Irish Rebellion. Several French ships were sent to Ireland to help the Irish and raid the English, and though none were able to unload their troops, several were able to shelter in Bantry Bay. One of those vessels, La Poutin Sal, was captained by Jean-Luc Pattisserie. Known throughout the French navy for his flaccid croissant, Pattisserie was never-the-less a dutiful keeper of his log, and the following entry finds its way into our pages now:

"Ze young Irish cochon is a foul creature; 'iz face it iz . . . most disgusting. Alors, ze boy, Michel de Flannigan ze wags zey call him, iz a master with the tools of our ship's carpenter, and has found a most ingenious way to prop up my lamentable "pastry". He has a mind to call it ze "Captain's Pole", but I think to name it ze "Lady's Friend"."

What happened to the young Michael Flannigan during his journey on La Poutin Sal and how he got on the ship in the first place are lost in time. But we know that he made his way to revolutionary France, and to Paris, where he found employment with Phillipe LeBon. (As proved in his ledgers, paying the young Flannigan 2 francs a week for "travail du corps".)

One cannot underestimate the importance of hot air in the chronicle of Flannigan's life.  Above:  Watt's steam engine.

LeBon was an engineer and chemist, and patented his "thermolampe" in early 1799. The gas lighting used ethanol produced from potatoes, which raises the obvious question -- was it Flannigan that helped the (previously unsuccessful) inventor create the first gas lighting? Alas, there is insufficient evidence to determine that this is so, but one finds it terribly coincidental that LeBon was murdered the night before Napoleon's coronation in 1804, and the night after a new experimental "thermolampe" all but destroyed Bonaparte's prized merkin collection. (Many historians will deny that Bonaparte was fond of shaving his private regions and decorating them with fanciful wigs, but the allegation remains.)

There his career as an inventor began in earnest.

-"Scholarship" by The Squire

Next: How Thick was Trevithick?