As the Jameson and Guinness Stout are sipped and the corned beef and cabbage praised in honor of St. Patrick's Day, no doubt someone leaning against a local bar rail will attempt to explain to the gentle publican -- or anyone else within earshot -- the relationship between Baltimore, Maryland and Baltimore, Ireland.

The name Baltimore, which derives from "Baile-an-ti-mor," and in Gaelic means "Place of the Big House," is also associated with the Calverts, the Barons of Baltimore, of which George Calvert was the first.

Indeed, when it was suggested in 1928 that William Broening become the first Baltimore mayor to visit the other Baltimore, he responded with a combination of enthusiasm and naivete, "That isn't a bad idea. Where is this Baltimore, anyway? Never heard of it before."

What most folks don't know is that the other Baltimore is a picturesque fishing village on the southwest coast of Ireland some 60 miles or so from Cork that dates to Druidic times.

"This corner of Ireland has great natural beauty. The coast is not unlike that of Maine. Both have many bays and islands and the shores are rocky and steep. The westernmost shores of Ireland are 400 feet high, yet the winter winds bring the salt spray far inland," the Sunday Sun Magazine once reported.

And there are some physical similarities. From atop a rather high hill stands the Baltimore Beacon that lights the way to a harbor called Baltimore Harbour. Its companion to the Patapsco River is the Ilen.

"Like Maryland's, this Baltimore is 'protected' -- the Sherkin Island flanks it from a mile off. Seven miles farther off, Cape Clear Island is the home of Irishmen who still speak the ancient Gaelic tongue," observed the Evening Sun in 1980.

And not much has changed since 1928, when a Sun reporter observed, "Baltimore, Ireland, where the women wait in their little thatched and whitewashed one-room cottages for their men to return from the sea, is situated on the wild and rocky southwest coast of Erin. And the inhabitants, wresting from the Atlantic a hard living, form a sturdy, independent group in a land where the men in general can hardly be called weaklings."

Like its U.S. counterpart, Baltimore, Ireland, also once survived an attack from the sea.

In 1632, pirates from two Algerian ships anchored offshore, landed and killed a number of the local inhabitants. Those that weren't killed were carried away to Africa, where they spent the remainder of their lives in slavery.

The concluding lines of "The Sack of Baltimore," a ballad written by the Irish poet Thomas Davis, commemorates the attack.

The yell of 'Allah' breaks above

The prayer and shriek and roar --

O blessed God! the Algerine

Is Lord Baltimore

The last time Baltimore, Ireland, really made the news on this side of the Atlantic was in 1958, when the Ancient Order of Hibernians, Friendly Sons of St. Patrick and the Emerald Island Club, operating under the name of the United Irish Societies of Baltimore, decided to collect 10 tons of clothing as a "gift to the brethren in the old country," reported The Sun in 1991.

Frank Hennessy, a well-known Baltimore radio and public relations personality, was sent to Ireland to make the presentation in person, and Joseph R.L. Sterne, London Bureau chief for The Sun, accompanied him to report on the ceremony. His reports told the following tale.

As the ceremony got under way, the Rev. Edward J. Lambe, the village priest, seemed to take umbrage at the generosity of the citizens of Baltimore, Maryland.

"Look at these people," he said gesturing to the audience of several score gathered before him, wrote Sterne.

"There's no sign of want. They are dressed as well as many of the people in Baltimore, Maryland. These people are industrious, intelligent and have a good standard of living. We don't want to be beggars to anybody."

Hennessy tried to explain that Baltimore was extending friendship, and not charity.

Summoned later to the rectory, Sterne met face to face with the priest, who pressed a glass of Jameson into his hand and said, "So, you're a reporter for the Baltimore Sun? Well, I want you to be writing that all of us are very grateful for these fine gifts."

After being advised that he would also report what the priest had said from the platform, Father Lambe explained that he had been upset that he had not been consulted and that an untrue picture of the conditions of the Irish in Baltimore had found its way to Baltimore across the Atlantic.

As he looked at Sterne, the priest asked, "Are you a Catholic, me boy?"

He answered, "No father, I'm a Jew."

"Ah," he answered, "we Catholics and we Jews have to stand together against the bloody Protestants."

"And then he tumbled into gales of laughter, finished the last drop of Jameson, clapped me on the shoulder and we went out together for what is surely the most authentic St. Patrick's Day I shall ever know," wrote Sterne, who would later retire as editor of The Sun's editorial pages.

Pub Date: 3/13/99