Tucked off Captain Daniel Roe Highway in Manorville, a solemn monument stands as tribute to one of Ireland’s most pivotal revolutionaries, Thomas J. Clarke, who once called this quiet stretch of Long Island home.
Recognized as the architect of Irish independence, Clarke lived and farmed in the rural hamlet before returning to Ireland to ignite the 1916 Easter Rising—a rebellion that, while crushed by the British in the short term, galvanized public sentiment and set the stage for Ireland’s eventual independence.
The monument, constructed by the Suffolk County Ancient Order of Hibernians, honors not only Clarke but also his wife, Kathleen Daly Clarke, whose devotion to the cause of Irish nationalism extended long after her husband was executed by firing squad in May 1916. Together, the Clarkes formed a rare and formidable team—organizing, publishing, and inspiring a movement that changed the course of Irish history.
“Few people know that the spark that helped light the fire of Irish freedom was kindled right here in Manorville,” said Pat Spero of Ridge, a Hibernian Marshal. “This monument is a testament to the courage of the Clarkes—and to all Irish men and women who endured and fought for their faith and their country.”
Imprisoned in 1880 at age 22 for his nationalist activities, Clarke spent 15 years under brutal conditions in British custody. His mistreatment was so severe that a government inquiry verified the cruel and inhumane treatment he and other Irish political prisoners endured. Upon his release in 1898, he recuperated at the home of fellow patriot John Daly in Ireland, where he met Daly’s niece, Kathleen Daly—the woman who would become his partner in life and in revolution.
In 1900, Clarke moved to New York and soon sent for Katty, as he fondly called her. The couple purchased the farm in Manorville and immersed themselves in Irish nationalist circles. Clarke wrote for The Gaelic American, worked closely with Clan na Gael, and hosted meetings at their home that would shape the fate of a nation.
With war brewing in Europe, Clarke returned to Ireland to reorganize the long-dormant Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), laying the groundwork for a rebellion he believed would succeed while Britain was distracted abroad. Though Katty initially resisted, fearful of losing her husband to another imprisonment—or worse—he rekindled her nationalist fire. Together, they sailed to Ireland in 1907.
At the heart of the monument site is not only a tribute to the Clarkes, but also a symbolic Mass Rock—a large stone altar reminiscent of those hidden deep in Ireland’s glens and hills, where outlawed Catholic masses were secretly held during the centuries of British religious oppression. Penal Laws dating to the 1600s had criminalized Catholic worship and turned priests into hunted fugitives. The faithful adapted, hiding among the rocks and shadows to practice their religion.
“The Mass Rock is a symbol of endurance,” Spero noted. “Just as the Clarkes are symbols of perseverance and selfless patriotism.” His organization holds a ceremony at the site every year on Low Sunday, a week after Easter, to commemorate the Clarks and the revolution they stood for.
Though Thomas Clarke was executed in the wake of the Easter Rising, the movement he rekindled could not be extinguished. Kathleen, entrusted by the IRB with their secret records and future plans, emerged as a key post-rebellion leader. She established a nationwide network to care for the families of prisoners and returning revolutionaries. In a defining act of faith and strategy, she entrusted the entire organizational framework of the IRB to a young man named Michael Collins. He reorganized the IRB and helped lead Sinn Féin to political dominance. Later, he became the Director of Intelligence for the IRA, masterminding a ruthless but effective guerrilla campaign during the Irish War of Independence (1919–1921).
Katty Clarke’s impact didn’t end with the passing of the torch to Collins. She became the first woman elected Lord Mayor of Dublin, served in the Dáil (Irish Parliament), and remained a key figure in the political and civic life of the new Irish state.
The Manorville monument honors both their journeys—from prison to Parliament, from Long Island farm to battlefield, from heartbreak to nationhood. “This is not just Irish history,” Spero concluded. “It’s American history, too. And now it’s Manorville’s legacy as well.”