Surely you’ve heard about the infamous Molly Maguires of Pennsylvania’s coal region.

But did you know that one of their descendants lives in Bethlehem?

Ed Gallagher, 85, professor emeritus of English at Lehigh University, had only a vague idea of who the Mollies were until he began researching his ancestry three years ago through Ancestry.com.

That sparked a deep dive into their history and the question: “How should we remember them — as heroes or hell-hounds?”

That question gains relevance for the 148th anniversary of the Day of the Rope. On June 21, 1877, 10 alleged Mollies were hanged — four at the prison in Mauch Chunk, including Gallagher’s ancestor, Yellow Jack Donahue, and six in Pottsville.

“My earliest ancestors in America on my mother’s side were Molly Maguires, that controversial Irish band in the coal region in the 1860s and 1870s that literally fought the coal operators,” Gallagher said.

History and Family

Gallagher embraces the quote, “Without a history, we’re not a family.”

The Mollies are now woven into his family story.

So compelled was Gallagher by what he found, he wrote a 338-page self-published book titled, “Our Mollies: Heroes or Hell-Hounds?” intended for his extended family. He ultimately sided with “heroes,” saying, “They were fighting for their lives.”

Though not for sale, Gallagher donated copies to about 20 historical societies, several coal region libraries, the Bethlehem Public Library and Lehigh University.

He discussed his research on a recent Saturday at his Bethlehem home, which he shares with his wife, Betty. They’ve lived there since 1968, raising six children and welcoming 16 grandchildren.

Always curious about his heritage, Gallagher finally found time to dig in after retiring from teaching American literature up to the Civil War at Lehigh, where he spent his 50-year career.

His mother had never spoken about their link to the Mollies, though she hinted at “famous” ancestors.

“She must have known all kinds of things about them,” Gallagher said. “But the family obviously clammed up — probably just to get on with their lives.”

“Our Mollies” refers to three people: Long John Donahue; Yellow Jack Donahue; and Mary Cassidy Donahue. Long John, who died in a melee, married Mary and had five children. After his death, she married Yellow Jack, who was later executed, and had four more children.

Fighting for rights

“The nicknames jump out at me,” Gallagher said.

At the time, coal mines were run by ruthless capitalists.

“The Irish were discriminated against, and conditions were awful,” he said.

Long John and Yellow Jack emigrated during Ireland’s potato famine.

“Even before the famine, life was miserable,” Gallagher said. “The Mollies started in Ireland, fighting back.”

In the U.S., the Irish faced more of the same. The coal mines were unregulated and dangerous. Irish workers held the lowest-paid, most hazardous jobs.

Gallagher estimates the Mollies had about 200 members in 25 chapters across towns like Tamaqua and Pottsville. They operated in secret, leaving no manifestos or letters. Long John and Yellow Jack were key leaders.

The Day of the Rope, Gallagher said, broke the back of the Mollies: “After that, they were kind of nonexistent.”

Molly tactics

The Mollies used riots and work stoppages, but their most notorious tactic was assassination.

“A man named Campbell was denied a promotion and turned to the Mollies. Yellow Jack ended up shooting the mine manager,” Gallagher recounted. “I call the Mollies terrorists, but they didn’t do random killings. Their grievances went through a sort of quasi-judicial process.”

They also issued “coffin notices” — warnings for their targets to leave town or face death.

In the early 1870s, unions began organizing. The Mollies backed off, seeing hope. But when the unions were crushed in 1875, the Mollies resumed their fight, declaring: “Now that the union is busted, the only thing we have to defend ourselves is our revolver.”

The mine owners responded with crackdowns and trials that led to the hangings.

Family ties

The Mollies were men, but Mary Cassidy Donahue stood by her husband. She sobbed at Yellow Jack’s sentencing, brought their children to visit the night before his execution, and took his body home to Tuscarora.

“That got to me,” Gallagher said.

He remains baffled that his mother never mentioned them.

“Was she ashamed? Gallagher asked. “It’s like they were rendered invisible.”

He structured the book like a course, posing 70 questions for his grandchildren to consider.

“I talk to them here and there, then ask them to answer a few questions to form their own opinions,” Gallagher said.

Modern scholars are divided, he said, but he comes down firmly: “The Irish were treated like scum.”

He includes period illustrations showing the Irish as apes and savages.

“Everyone was against them — the press, the police, even the Catholic Church,” he said.

Philadelphia Archbishop James Frederick Wood tried to pacify miners and even excommunicated the Mollies — though he revoked it before the hangings. Each had a confessor.

“We don’t know what they said, but Yellow Jack’s last words were, ‘I have nothing to say,’ ” Gallagher said. “They weren’t crying or apologizing. They were fighting injustice on the gallows.”

Worth the effort

Gallagher believes researching the Mollies tapped into something in his DNA.

“Some things in my life tell me their genes are operating in me in the fight for social justice,” he said. “I could not murder as they did. But there’s a remnant of that drive in us — and we should be proud of it.”

He did much of his research at the Schuylkill County Historical Society in Pottsville, driving there weekly for two years. His son Matt joined him at sites including Yellow Jack’s house in Tuscarora.

The 1870 census lists Long John’s son Patrick working in the mines at age 13. “He surely worked before that,” Gallagher said. Patrick died at 40, falling down a 300-foot shaft.

The Mollies were the focus of the 1970 film “The Molly Maguires” starring Sean Connery. Gallagher calls it a good film but not entirely accurate.

Raised in suburban Philadelphia, Gallagher earned a history degree at St. Joseph’s and a Ph.D. in American literature from Notre Dame.

He has also written a blog, “The Bethlehem Gadfly,” and contributes a column called “Senior Moments.”

His book may spark conversation not only within his family but in the wider community about this turbulent chapter in coal region history — and how we choose to remember it.