Tinker's Damn

Like the Gypsies of Europe and North America, the people known as the Travellers, indigenous to Ireland, are held in distrust by the greater society. They are widely believed to have a proclivity toward criminal activity and even to the use of magical powers to manipulate their victims.

In some ways the Travellers defy definition. Though they have exactly the same physical appearance as the white majority in Ireland, they have always lived on the fringe, perhaps intentionally, and have been the target of prejudice and discrimination.

The negative bias is fueled by their limited desire to assimilate into communities. Instead, it is the nature of their identity to remain in motion, to move on in spite of government efforts to provide them training and resources that would lead to permanent settlement in any specific location.

They are both clannish and secretive. They have a language, known as Shelta, Gammon or Cant. It has been called, derogatorily, a thieves’ tongue used to facilitate confidence games or to warn of the approach of police.

Today, while some live in urban housing projects, most remain, at least in their hearts, nomadic. A significant number still move from town-to-town, sometimes leaving behind unmet promises and obligations. Those who continue to roam have adopted the use of campers, or pick-ups pulling trailers, though the old horse-drawn barrel wagons still exist in parts of the rural countryside.

Settled folk call them, in ascending order of insult, Irish Gypsies, Tinkers, or Knackers. Travellers refer to themselves as the Pavees. They share traits in common not only with Gypsies and other itinerant tribes, but also with most underemployed and impoverished people. A disproportionate number have fallen victim to alcoholism and drug addiction and have been involved in the behavior so often linked to these problems.

Some have engaged in fraud, variations of take-the-money-and-run scams. Others have participated in fortune telling and outright begging. Still, more than a few have distinguished themselves in the mainstream of Irish entertainment as singers, musicians, actors and athletes.

Whatever their reputation, comparatively few engage in habitual criminal behavior. This story is about those colorful few. It is entirely fiction.


Brendan Rourke was fiercely proud of being a Traveller. He was less proud of being the son of Matty Rourke.

His father had been a skilled tradesman, a man who could build or fix almost anything. His services were valued throughout the Counties. Until everything changed, he loved nothing more than an honest day’s work.

Anyone with a child can understand why he snapped. After what was done to young Francie, it was only natural that Matty would need vengeance. People assured Brendan that, in time, Matty would return to the man he was.

Instead, Matty launched a nationwide crime spree escalating from petty misdemeanor to major felony. Worse, he involved every surviving family member as a co-conspirator, even Brendan’s half-mad mother who’d been rendered catatonic by her sadness. Only, his sister, the devil-possessed Maire, relished the work, at least until drink and drugs made her a whore.

Brendan never dreamed of becoming rich. He was born to the road and wanted little more than to stay on it without having to look over his shoulder. He had little taste for revenge and less for his father’s games. His only hope was that the family would return to what it had been and that he might one day marry the girl he had loved since he was a child. It took a full six years before he understood that it was not to be.

He commits the Traveller’s cardinal sin. He breaks not only from his family but from the Clans, determined to start a new life. He could not have guessed that he would have to resort to the tricks of his dad to survive.