The time the Cork stuntman Tim Hayes wanted to be buried in a raheen in Monamolin - folklorist Michael Fortune presents a tall (but true) story from his new book...
Here is a story from my new volume of The Folklore of Wexford, a ground-up, local publication exploring the folklore, stories, customs and practices of my native Co. Wexford.
Growing up, I often heard a story from my mother, Ann (Nan) Fortune, about a man who was buried underground for a couple of weeks somewhere in Wexford. To be honest, I always thought it was a made-up story and put it in the box with a lot of the rest of the stories she told us as children. However, in time I discovered the story was indeed real and Tim Hayes from Cobh, Co. Cork was in Monamolin in 1970 and was indeed buried underground in a coffin for 239 hours, 31 minutes, and 55 seconds!
during the Castlebar Festival in September 1973 (Pic: Connaught Telegraph)
Tim Hayes was a Cork stuntman/celebrity figure who only passed away in 2005 and seemed to spend years performing these kinds of stunts around Ireland. This story has resurfaced in recent years due to an RTÉ Archives video of the late Cathal O'Shannon coming down to Co. Wexford and Cork in early 1970 and recording an interview with Peter O'Brien from Monamolin and Tim Hayes down in Cobh. It was broadcast on Newsbeat on 30 April 1970 and it has been seen by millions of people in recent years - the stories attached to it would put my poor mother to shame. Watch the RTÉ Archives video here.
How RTÉ helped the story
The RTÉ recording is priceless. In the chat Tim was his typical cool Cork self, while the rural Wexford man, Peter O’Brien, was excitable and animated. Everything about the clip is excellent, from the production and editing to the words of Cathal, who just says enough to draw everyone out. Now, I don’t know if Cathal was in on the whole thing or if Tim and the Monamolin men pulled the wool over the eyes of RTÉ. Everything was aligned and right, and that's what made it as we had a generation still fearful of the fairies and able to articulate their fear in such a convincing way.
Here is a transcription of the chat with Cathal and Peter.
Cathal: Monamolin has never had a fête before, and it seemed a good idea to the organisers to open it with Tim being buried alive in a local raheen or fairy fort.
The trouble was who was going to dig the grave? Well, certainly not the men of Monamolin themselves. "Turn one sod of that fort," they said, "and you'll never have a day's luck. There's not a man in the village would dare to touch it."
Peter: I'm a poor man, and I want money the worst way. And I'll tell you the truth, if you gave me a thousand pounds tomorrow morning, I wouldn't dig a spit with a spade in it.
Cathal: Well, what about the fairy field now where they've changed it to?
Peter: The fairy field and the raheen is all the same to me. I wouldn't meddle with it. And God between us and all harm, I don't want to see anyone around here meddling with that enchanted place.
The Backstory — there’s always a backstory
However, there’s a backstory to the clip that many people who’ve watched it don’t know, one I’ve managed to unravel over the past year through conversations with those who were directly involved in the whole thing.
The first thing that must be put on record is this: Tim was not buried in a raheen or fairy fort. In fact, he was never going to be. This was one of the best publicity stunts ever pulled, designed both to boost Tim’s celebrity status and to raise money for the local GAA club. From talking to those directly involved, the whole Fairy Fort story was orchestrated by Tim and the local organisers, and as you can see from the clip, the media fell for it hook, line and sinker.
The local GAA club in Buffers Alley wanted to buy land for a pitch and clubhouse but simply didn’t have the funds, so a group of local men including John Doyle, Matty O’Loughlin, the late Seamus Kavanagh and a few others went looking for Tim, hoping to organise an event that would draw a crowd and raise a few pounds. Matty told me in 2024 that they drove to Cobh to meet Tim and struck a deal.
Tim originally asked for one thousand pounds as his fee, but after a bit of haggling they agreed on three hundred, which was a lot back in 1970s Ireland. The deal was struck, and no sooner were the men back in Wexford than Tim added an extra bit of spice by putting out the story that he was going to be buried in a raheen or fairy fort in Wexford.
He knew damn well that people’s reaction to meddling with a raheen or fairy fort would be fierce, these places were sacred, untouched for generations. Of all the places to want to be buried, choosing a raheen was sacrilege in the world of folklore and folk belief, these were sacred spaces and Tim Hayes knew exactly which strings to pull.
He also knew what strings to pull in the media, he had good contacts in one of the Sunday papers, and once the story broke it went wild, gaining legs of its own. Naturally, this struck a chord with rural Irish people, as touching a fairy fort was a complete no-no. In reality, this was never going to happen, the actual burial spot had already been chosen, a corner of the field beside the road ditch at what is now Buffers Alley GAA pitch. There was never a raheen or fairy fort there, never was and never will be.
If you look at the current Google Maps imagery of the Buffers Alley pitch, you can see where Tim was buried, behind the building and close to the main Ballyedmund to Ballycanew road. If you look at the OS maps from the time, there was no raheen or fairy fort there either, and it was never referred to as a 'Fairy Field’.
where Tim Hayes was buried in 1970.
Back in 2024, I was contacted by an American documentary maker who was recording stories of fairies in Ireland. I brought her around to a couple of sites in Wexford and told her the story of Tim Hayes. During that time, it gave me the chance to reach out to some of the locals who were directly involved and get the fuller story. The American crew were only being fed what was put in front of them, so when I got the opportunity, I asked the organisers if the spot where he was buried was connected to the fairies.
I knew well it wasn’t, but it was interesting to watch one man in particular stay silent, with a wry smirk and a glint in his eye. When I pushed him again, he laughed and admitted it wasn’t. You have to remember, although they hadn’t come up with the idea themselves, it brought attention to their event, and attention brought people, and people brought money, and that’s what was needed in this case. I was told that local men dug the grave quietly in the middle of the night so no one would know who did it.
(Pic: Mattie O Loughlin)
That same year, Joe Kavanagh from Ballinlow Lane, Kilmuckridge, told me he'd been given the job of preparing the coffin for Tim. Tim had his own coffin, but Joe felt it wasn’t strong enough and wouldn’t hold the weight of the heavy local clay, so he reinforced it with some steel. Apparently, a few days down, Tim noticed this and threw a wobbly, and all kinds of words were shouted back up the pipe at Joe and the men for meddling with his coffin. The men told me they’d built it so they could get the clay up quickly if they ever needed to. Joe also said the coffin had a false bottom, and we can only guess what that was for.
Micheál Kavanagh, the son of one of the organisers (and also my teacher from Ballygarrett NS) told me that he remembers his little bucket and spade for making sandcastles being used to send food down to Tim. Mícheál also told me that Peter O’Brien’s performance for Cathal on RTÉ was as good as what you would see on the stage in the Abbey. Peter was a local actor and character, and he played a blinder in telling the story about that enchanted place, the corner of a field which is now behind the back of a building at Buffer’s Alley GAA pitch.
The whole thing was like something straight out of Father Ted, with people driving, walking and cycling from all over the south east, day and night, to pay their sixpence for a few minutes’ chat through a telephone and Wavin pipe to a man six feet underground. The best part was that the people of Monamolin and Buffer’s Alley in Kilmuckridge raised their money and now have a state of the art pitch and clubhouse, with young and old playing hurling, Gaelic football and camogie in this part of Wexford.
So there you have it, it paid off, all thanks to their hard work, helped along at the start by a little bit of folklore and a bit of madness. As one of the organisers, Mattie O’Loughlin, said to me that day, "We wouldn’t get away with that today."
Below is a little verse composed at the time by Diarmuid Kavanagh, the son of one of the organisers.
There was a young man called Tim Hayes
Who was buried alive for 10 days
In Monamolin, they put him right in.
Now what do you think of this for a craze?!
The Folklore of Wexford is out now - find out more here
