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The Curran Clan : History & Heritage Overview |
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 Curran's
Heraldry has been in existence for many generations, supplying heraldic
regalia to both court and courtier. And before that, the name Curran
was closely associated with the ancient Brethon Laws of Ireland.
The Brethons were keepers of both History and Law in the ancient kingdom of Ireland. This close association with law and history is still very much in evidence today, wherever the name Curran is found. A quick check of any telephone directory will show that a lot of Currans still follow these two demanding professions. And we must not forget that the very first speaker of the Irish Parliament was the renowned historian, wit and barrister, John Philpot Curran. As you will understand from the above, the love of History and Law runs deep in the Curran Clan. At Currans we take pride in what we do, and this pride transcends to our customers through the fine heraldic regalia that we re-create from the past.
These standards are to be found only at Curran's Heraldry. Our workshop is located in the Ballycasey Design Centre, which is just a few minutes drive from Shannon Airport in Co. Clare. The Design Centre is renowned for its artists, potters and goldsmiths, and of course Curran's Heraldry. | ||
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What the Papers Are Saying About Gerry Curran |
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Jo Kerrigan talks to a man whose love of heraldry
and his job has him on the crest of a wave. |
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 Most of the time, Gerry Curran lives in the past. For
generations, his family have pursued the tortuous windings of heraldry,
deciding who is entitled to the lion rampant, who to the griffon,
which individual may display a chevron gules between three ravens
to the sinister sable and which family may proudly quote the motto "Nil
Conscire Sibi" or "conscious of no wrong" (possibly
useful if you're stopped for speeding). But there's another, unexpected
side to this quiet, bespectacled figure, one which only comes to
life when the winds roar and the sea lashes our rocky coastline.
The heraldry business had been more of a part time hobby in his father's day. "He used to get invited over to aristocratic houses in England to help with their family tree and had great fun." When more and more Americans started coming to Ireland in search of their roots, however, the next generation knew the time had come to turn professional. Now, between the Internet and an outlet in Adare, Gerry (originally from Armagh) is kept busy tracking down remote branches of illustrious families, identifying crests, translating mottoes, providing plaques for those who yearn to know their roots. Sometimes there are unexpected requests. "I remember the son of a government minister in Ghana who wanted a special plaque to reflect his own roots. He demanded a crocodile swimming in a blue river, above that a lion walking through long savannah grass; and at the top a traditional round mud house. I told him he couldn't call it a family crest, because it wasn't, strictly speaking, a traditional one. He said he didn't care what it was called, he just wanted it. So I designed it. I think he sent one to his Oxford college." Heraldry is one of the quieter occupations, a backroom job involving close research and much poring over ancient documents to ensure historical accuracy. It's a loner's world, far removed from the noise and realities of everyday life. But that's where Gerry's other existence comes in. At intervals, he swaps the baggy jumper for a flight suit, the books for a safety harness and takes off with the Air Sea Rescue team from Shannon in the biggest helicopter in these islands, the giant SikorskyS61n. On these flights, Gerry acts as observer, recording the details of the mission while others carry out their vital work. "It started when I got this idea for a novel. You do get ideas when you're working away there on your own in the middle of the night. I wanted to set the story around the coast with plenty of action taking place on the sea and the cliffs, but I knew very little about accidents at sea and rescues and things like that. I thought the best way to learn was to do it, so I applied to the Irish Marine Emergency Service to go up with the Air Sea Rescue team. They checked me out fairly thoroughly and decided it would be okay as long as I did some work while I was there and didn't just take up space!"
"It took me a good few seconds to figure out what had happened. I was rather relieved when I spotted the waves far below and the lighthouse." As the great machine roared slowly downwards, Gerry saw Rusty, the lighthouse dog. "He was crouched low, waiting for us with his paws dug right into the ground. He was far more experienced than I was with helicopters at that stage!" The Air Sea Rescue were making a special trip to Blacksod to present the lighthouse keepers with a photo montage reflecting the previous ten years of their involvment in the rescue services, during which they refuelled the helicopter around the clock, often in appalling weather conditions. "They're the forgotten ones really -- all the way out there in their wave-lashed lookout posts." Only a few weeks previously, the helicopter had been there on a far less relaxed mission. A trawler had gone down some 50 miles off the Scottish coast. The RAF had picked up all the crew except one. By the time they were ready to go out again, the winds had shifted, making it impossible to reach the last man in time.
He discovered another fascinating story at Blacksod. The present lighthouse head keeper is Vincent Sweeney, whose father Edward tended the lights there during the last war. Edward also operated at that time a small weather station that was to save the lives of millions. On the evening of June 5, 1945, Edward Sweeney sent a telegram to the British War Office, telling them that a short lived trough of calm weather would pass over the coast of France in the early hours of the next morning. On the strength of that telegram, the victorious D-Day invasion to liberate Europe was launched.
And he must be garnering a good deal of background material for that book. "The book? Oh, yes. I certainly am. Now if I can just make the time to get round to finishing it..."
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Memories of that first trip are vivid. "I remember the winchman
instructing me to kick out my windows in an emergency as well as
other cheerful bits of life saving information. We were on our
way to Blacksod Bay Lighthouse, but the cloud cover there was total.
The crew had to consider a radar let down, not without its risks
I was told. At the last minute, the captain saw a break in the
clouds and went for it, through a whirling, confusing grey tunnel
which was totally disorientating for me at least. 
Shannon Air Sea Rescue flew up the west coast, refuelled at Blacksod,
then headed directly across Northern Ireland and out to sea, at
over 200 miles an hour, driven by ferocious tailwinds. They were
only just in time to snatch the last survivor from the boiling
seas. Even now, Gerry is unsure whether to be relieved or sorry
he was not on that challenging dash against time and storm. 
Now Gerry flies regularly with the Air Sea Rescue team. He knows
something of the traumatic nature of their work, the joys and the
tragedies. He realises all too well the risks they take every time
they answer a call for help. It couldn't be more of a contrast
to that quiet, book lined study and the detailed requirements of
heraldic research. It's a world that demands instant reaction,
strength and immense courage in the face of appalling odds. But
Gerry revels in the contrast.