NELLIE FELT A surge of pride every time she crossed the threshold of Liberty Hall, with its anti-war banner proclaiming, ‘We serve neither King nor Kaiser but Ireland.’ She enjoyed the easy camaraderie and friendships she had made there. She continued to give her cookery classes and she was delighted that her dance classes were also proving popular with the union’s members.
‘Nellie, you are light on your feet and make it look easy,’ teased Rosie Hackett, who had unfortunately lost her job in Jacob’s Biscuit Factory again. ‘I’m too much of an agitator,’ she admitted.
James Connolly had made sure to get Rosie a job, however, and she now worked alongside Helena and Jenny Shanahan running the union’s busy Co-operative shop, which was in the building next door to Liberty Hall. It sold workers’ shirts, Irish-produced tweeds and garments, as well as the union’s newspapers, the Workers’ Republic and the Gael. Nellie enjoyed their company and the bond that existed among them.
Every day as she cycled or took the tram into town, she studied the recruiting posters urging men to join their fellow Irish men and do their duty and fight. It sickened her. Every place you passed, you were accosted with Kitchener’s propaganda. So many of the men they had fed in the building during the Lockout had enlisted and now their families were left fatherless and husbandless with no one to provide for them.
‘Unfortunately, Nellie, the poor have always been the backbone of the army during a war,’ sighed Countess Markievicz.
She helped with passing out leaflets against the war and attended pacifist Frank Sheehy-Skeffington’s meetings, but every day more and more Irish men enlisted. From Liberty Hall Nellie watched them in their khaki uniforms with their kitbags, marching along by the riverside to the docks where the transport ships waited to take them overseas. Like Harry, they believed that they were doing their duty, protecting Ireland and helping the smaller nations that were under attack by the massive German army.
As the list of casualties and deaths grew week by week, Nellie knew that many would never return and she became determined to do all in her power to stop any more Irish men enlisting in the British army.
Lord Kitchener had ordered British employers to get rid of all the men who worked in shops and at desk jobs to force them into joining the army, and as the weeks went by young Irish clerks, drapery staff and bank staff began to return to Ireland, many turning up in Liberty Hall looking for work.
‘They say parliament plans to introduce conscription in Britain in the New Year because the army are suffering such huge losses,’ explained Helena, ‘so the situation will certainly get worse.’
‘Many Irish men will flee back here, for they will never fight in a British army,’ agreed Nellie. ‘Perhaps we should think of setting up some sort of office to help them find suitable employment?’
‘It could be difficult trying to get them jobs,’ Helena warned.
‘I’m not afraid of hard work!’ Nellie laughed.
It began in a very small fashion. Nellie travelled around various local employers to see if they had staff vacancies, or if they could offer any employment opportunities to young men returning from England. Given the situation, some immediately said yes, but others were most reluctant. Nellie was horrified to discover that a few companies had already made their own Irish employees and apprentices redundant at the request of local army recruiters.
She placed a small notice in Liberty Hall and another in the Irish Volunteers’ headquarters offering assistance. Two or three men called to see her in Temple Villas and Nellie interviewed them in the dining room, promising to use all her contacts and even call on old friends in Meath and around the country to try to find work for them. And she succeeded, getting them jobs in warehouses and on farms, down on the docks and in various factories.
The numbers coming to see her continued to grow. Sometimes Julia, their housekeeper, had to leave the men to sit and wait on chairs in the hall.
‘Who are all these young men loitering around the place?’ Father wanted to know. ‘Are they friends of yours, Nellie?’
She explained the situation to him, but her father was not happy to have his home turned into some sort of office. Mother was appalled and warned it could not continue.
‘All these male callers – Nellie Gifford, you will get a reputation!’
Nellie described to Madame Markievicz the precarious situation she was in with her small employment agency. The countess sat smoking her cigarette and listened.
‘I have some vacant rooms in an upstairs office in Harcourt Street for a few weeks if that is of any use to you, Nellie,’ she offered.
Nellie thanked her and, to the relief of her parents, moved her office into town. She talked everything over with her friend Marie Perolz, who had agreed to assist her.
So the Bureau, their small employment office, was set up. As the weeks went on and more men returned from England, jobless and many also needing accommodation, Nellie did her very best to help them.