27 May 1999 Edition
Fógraí bháis: Alex Crowe
This is one of those tasks that everyone hates to do and myself especially, because you hope that things like this don't happen. To most people reading the death notices in the Irish News it just said Crowe, Alex, RIP. To us who knew him it was a devastating blow, for this was an absolute giant of a man, in every way.
One of my first experiences of Alex was, (I have to say) not pleasant. I was on a charge for a small fracturing of the rules and for my pains I was put up against a wall in a safe-house, ``somewhere in Ballymurphy''. This was not my first time on a charge and normally I was able to use my wits with my ``jailer'' and spend a pleasant but mostly boring time reading or watching some television.
``Who's our jailer today?'' I asked. ``Dunno'' came the reply. Two minutes later Alex entered the room. ``Happy days'' I said to myself. ``It's my old friend Alex.'' It was far from a `happy day' because when Alex was told to do something, he done it and he did it the only way that he could, uncompromisingly! Any notion I had of an easy day was forgot about after about five minutes. In the twelve hours that I spent against the wall, he taught me a lesson that day about not fracturing the rules and I never forgot it.
Alex was a warm, friendly, generous, family man and had a brilliant sense of humour. Then there was the other Alex Crowe. (the Volunteer in Oglaigh na h-Éireann). This Alex was a totally committed republican fighter who nearly gave almost everything on many occasions to the struggle. Whatever he was asked to do. he did it and no questions asked. His commitment was wholehearted and he expected and demanded the same from the rest of us. He did what he was told and we did what he told us. There was no other way for Alex. He wouldn't ask someone to do something that he wouldn't do himself.
I spent a number of years in Long Kesh with him and he was like a father to me and a lot of others just like me. The teapot was never off the boil and his cell was never empty, morning, noon and night. Most of the time he was in agony from a wound he had received earlier in the war, but he always had time for anybody who was looking for a friendly but confidential ear into which they could dump their problems. He never turned anybody away unless he didn't like you and if Alex didn't like you, then Alex didn't like you. Simple as that! This was a rare occurrence.
He would sit in his cell or be leaning against the window (taking the weight of his injured leg) just outside the hut (depending on the weather) and was a magnet to everyone who passed by him. Everyone stopped and talked to Alex and he loved it. The respect that republicans hold one another in isn't given away lightly. The respect we had for Alex Crowe couldn't be counted in lorry loads. The size of his funeral bears testament to the respect that all republicans had both for him and his devoted wife, Bridie.
His premature death can be added to the list of those others who suffered through injury because of the most times total indifference of the screws and medical staff of Long Kesh. His constant battle against the pain is the direct cause of his death and is our loss.
On behalf of all his friends and comrades everywhere, I can say without fear of contradiction that Alex Crowe was an absolute gentleman and a giant amongst the community he struggled for 30 years to help liberate.
Alex spent nearly 18 years in prison and continued to work for the struggle on his release. As a lifelong republican, he continued to inspire others, whether working in elections or collecting the Green Cross. As usual, his work was undertaken unselfishly and wholeheartedly.
To his greatest supporter, lifelong friend and wife, Bridie and his children Alex Jnr., Kathy, Martin and Tony and his entire family, we offer our sincere condolences.
Go nDéanaí Dia trócaire ar a anam uasail.
No probablum now, mo sheanchara!
Smig Mór
One of my first experiences of Alex was, (I have to say) not pleasant. I was on a charge for a small fracturing of the rules and for my pains I was put up against a wall in a safe-house, ``somewhere in Ballymurphy''. This was not my first time on a charge and normally I was able to use my wits with my ``jailer'' and spend a pleasant but mostly boring time reading or watching some television.
``Who's our jailer today?'' I asked. ``Dunno'' came the reply. Two minutes later Alex entered the room. ``Happy days'' I said to myself. ``It's my old friend Alex.'' It was far from a `happy day' because when Alex was told to do something, he done it and he did it the only way that he could, uncompromisingly! Any notion I had of an easy day was forgot about after about five minutes. In the twelve hours that I spent against the wall, he taught me a lesson that day about not fracturing the rules and I never forgot it.
Alex was a warm, friendly, generous, family man and had a brilliant sense of humour. Then there was the other Alex Crowe. (the Volunteer in Oglaigh na h-Éireann). This Alex was a totally committed republican fighter who nearly gave almost everything on many occasions to the struggle. Whatever he was asked to do. he did it and no questions asked. His commitment was wholehearted and he expected and demanded the same from the rest of us. He did what he was told and we did what he told us. There was no other way for Alex. He wouldn't ask someone to do something that he wouldn't do himself.
I spent a number of years in Long Kesh with him and he was like a father to me and a lot of others just like me. The teapot was never off the boil and his cell was never empty, morning, noon and night. Most of the time he was in agony from a wound he had received earlier in the war, but he always had time for anybody who was looking for a friendly but confidential ear into which they could dump their problems. He never turned anybody away unless he didn't like you and if Alex didn't like you, then Alex didn't like you. Simple as that! This was a rare occurrence.
He would sit in his cell or be leaning against the window (taking the weight of his injured leg) just outside the hut (depending on the weather) and was a magnet to everyone who passed by him. Everyone stopped and talked to Alex and he loved it. The respect that republicans hold one another in isn't given away lightly. The respect we had for Alex Crowe couldn't be counted in lorry loads. The size of his funeral bears testament to the respect that all republicans had both for him and his devoted wife, Bridie.
His premature death can be added to the list of those others who suffered through injury because of the most times total indifference of the screws and medical staff of Long Kesh. His constant battle against the pain is the direct cause of his death and is our loss.
On behalf of all his friends and comrades everywhere, I can say without fear of contradiction that Alex Crowe was an absolute gentleman and a giant amongst the community he struggled for 30 years to help liberate.
Alex spent nearly 18 years in prison and continued to work for the struggle on his release. As a lifelong republican, he continued to inspire others, whether working in elections or collecting the Green Cross. As usual, his work was undertaken unselfishly and wholeheartedly.
To his greatest supporter, lifelong friend and wife, Bridie and his children Alex Jnr., Kathy, Martin and Tony and his entire family, we offer our sincere condolences.
Go nDéanaí Dia trócaire ar a anam uasail.
No probablum now, mo sheanchara!
Smig Mór