Exorcist Steps

IMG_8155One of the reasons we started Next Exit Travel was to share those amazing, unexpected moments that appear when you travel. Yesterday, I went to Washington, DC for work. With the meeting concluded, I was offered a tour of an iconic landmark in Georgetown. While there are 100’s of iconic spots all over DC, this was one I actually wanted to see – the stairs from The Exorcist. Better yet, I got to descend the steep stairs with not only a PhD in religious studies, but a pastor as well.

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In case you need to refresh yourself with the stair scene, check out this clip. This past Halloween the stairs were designated as an official tourist location. If you want to see the stairs out for yourself, they are at the corner of Prospect Street and 36th Street, near M Street in Georgetown.

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Bonus Exorcist trivia – Linda Blair is now an animal activist and wants you to adopt a companion dog.

The Boys No Man Dares Dun

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We had planned to bypass Limerick completely. Irish friends had recommended skipping the historically industrial hub, given the scale of our trip and improbably limited amount of time, in favor of more epic destinations like the Burren and Newgrange.

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Yet one unlikely nook of Limerick still beckoned – a rough, working-class suburb on the city’s eastside called Garryowen. The area’s Irish name, Garraí Eoin, translates to “the garden of John”, a reference to John the Baptist. Indeed, St. John’s Cathedral, built in 1861, towers fortress-like over the heart of Garryowen, and, at 94 meters (or about 308 feet), boasts the tallest spire in all of Ireland.

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However, my interest in Garryowen was not grounded in religious history or its renowned rugby club, but rather an eponymous tune whose origins may be traced back two or three centuries. Today, the song is probably best known in America as a march favored by the U.S. Army, and it often emanates from bagpipes during St. Patrick’s Day parades. But, in fact, “Garryowen” began life purely as a hooligan’s refrain:

[VERSE]

Let Bacchus’s sons be not dismayed

But join with me each jovial blade

Come booze and sing and lend your aid

To help me with the chorus

[CHORUS]

Instead of spa we’ll drink down ale

And pay the reckoning on the nail

For debt no man shall go to jail

From Garryowen in glory

[VERSE]

We are the boys who take delight

In smashing Limerick lamps at night

And through the street like sportsters fight

Tearing all before us

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

We’ll break windows, we’ll break doors

The watch knock down by threes and fours

Then let the doctors work their cures

And tinker up our bruises

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

We’ll make the mayor and sheriff run

We’ll beat the bailiffs out of fun

We are the boys no man dares dun

If he regards a whole skin

[CHORUS]

[VERSE]

Our hearts so stout have got us fame

For soon ’tis known from whence we came

Where’er we go they dread the name

Of Garryowen in glory

[CHORUS]

I was about 12 when I first heard “Garryowen”, on an album of Civil War-era music performed by folk musician Jim Taylor. The rowdy, infectious tune appears, ironically, as part of an instrumental medley that includes “Haste to the Wedding” and “St. Patrick’s Day in the Morning”.

“Garryowen” was part of a canon of traditional music that accompanied an unprecedented wave of Irish immigration to America during the mid to late 19th century and, before long, manifested throughout Union Army camps in the War Between the States. It was there, so the story goes, that General George A. Custer first heard “Garryowen”, and favored it so greatly that his Seventh Cavalry took the jaunty air west with them during the Indian Wars, adopting it as its official theme – one which they still play today. Indeed, “Garryowen” (both instrumentally and with lyrics) is ubiquitous throughout the 1941 Errol Flynn vehicle They Died with Their Boots On.

Surely, a rough-and-tumble town with such an inspired musical heritage must merit a brief detour. Hell, for all I knew, Garryowen was now a gentrified hipster haven sporting Thai restaurants and art galleries on every block…

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IMG_7962We rolled into Garryowen shortly before the local afternoon rush hour, and while I wasn’t sure of the precise whereabouts of St. John’s Cathedral, one thing soon became clear: if 300-year-old lyrics are to be believed, Garryowen has remained true to itself. I’ve lived and worked in Baltimore long enough to recognize a tourist destination…and this certainly is not one. From ubiquitous security cameras and graffiti to ruins both new and ancient, Garryowen bears all the scars and hallmarks of an area still awaiting a ship that is several centuries overdue.

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Yet the towering architecture of Garryowen’s centerpiece, St. John’s Cathedral, remains an awe-inspiring sight for the intrepid (and streetwise) traveler. Garryowen itself stands as a resilient and sobering reminder of the truths that ground the most elaborate mythologies.

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