Michael Manning was the last prisoner executed in the Republic of Ireland, ending a centuries-old tradition of executions in the Emerald Isle and another tradition of their being performed almost entirely by British executioners.

Dublin’s legendary Mountjoy Prison.
Michael Manning’s case was the last time a group of officials would assemble at Dublin’s Mountjoy Prison at 8am in the morning. Although number of other inmates received death sentences after he was hanged, none of them saw the inside of Mountjoy’s execution chamber. Staff and inmates alike had a quaint nickname for it. Inmates at Wandsworth in London crudely nicknamed it the ‘cold meat shed.’ Pentonville’s inmates still refer to the former site of theirs as ‘Crippen’s Grass’ (the shed itself no longer exists). Mountjoy folk still call it the ‘hanghouse.’
Michael Manning would Ireland’s last inmate to walk in and be carried out.
Ireland, not surprisingly given its history, has a strong tradition of abolitionism. The fact that many Irish folk met their ends standing on a gallows or facing a firing squad in the cause of Irish independence still weighs heavy with many Irish people, the symbol of State retribution was and is, to many Irish folk, a symbol of oppression. So strong was their distaste for it that, both before and after Irish independence, the Irish authorities were still obliged to use British executioners as Irishmen seldom applied for the job. Knowing the strength of feeling against them and their reason for visiting Ireland, both Thomas Pierrepoint and his nephew Albert made a point of taking precautions. Whenever they went across the Irish Sea on business, both men habitually went carrying guns. The execution of Michael Manning would be the last time a Pierrepoint, or any British executioner, would cross the Irish Sea on business.
Manning’s crime was brutal, the rape and murder of 65-year old nurse Catherine Copper in the city of Limerick on November 18, 1953. It’s fair to say that there was scant sympathy for him personally. There was no doubt that he’d committed the crime, after all. He was arrested after leaving a very distinctive hat at the crime scene.
At his trial, beginning on February 15, 1954 the defence attempted to plead insanity. They pointed out that Manning’s family had a history of mental illness and argued that the charge should therefore be reduced to manslaughter, a non-capital crime, and claimed there was no evidence of premeditation.
The prosecution, however, begged to differ. Granted, Manning (who blamed the crime on his being extremely drunk) could be proved to have been on a lengthy tour of Limerick’s pubs and bars on the day of the crime, even being refused service at one of them on account of his drunken state. But, they argued, he could also be proved to have altered his routine on that day (in their view to allow himself more time to commit the crime) while his having stuffed clods of grass and earth into the victim’s mouth proved that he knew what he was doing was a crime and had deliberately tied to silence his victim. If he knew what he was doing and he knew that it was wrong, they argued, then the insanity plea didn’t hold water.
The judge sided with the prosecution. Manning would be tried for murder, an offence with a mandatory death sentence at the time.
The outcome was never really in any doubt. The jury were out for only three hours before rendering their verdict;
Guilty as charged.
The judge promptly donned the ‘Black Cap’ and passed the only sentence open to him;
Death by hanging.

Chief Executioner Albert Pierrepoint.
This was something of an event. There hadn’t been a hanging in Ireland since that of William Gambon at Mountjoy on November 24, 1948. Gambon had been hanged by Albert Pierrepoint, the Pierrepoint family having a private deal with the Irish authorities dating back to when Albert’s uncle Thomas had worked for them. Thomas’s deal meant he could work either without any assistant at all (which he often did) or could bring along anyone who wanted to try their hand as an assistant executioner and who Thomas felt was up to actually doing the job. Albert’s very first hanging on December 29, 1932 (that of murderer Patrick McDermott) was at Mountjoy assisting Thomas.
Ireland had been the site of Albert’s first execution. Now Albert would carry out Ireland’s last.
As previously mentioned there was little sympathy for Manning. There was, however, immense sympathy for his young wife who was also expecting their first child. The baby was due, in fact, only weeks after Manning’s scheduled execution on April 20, 1954. Manning himself was keenly aware of that fact. With his appeal denied his only hope was a personal appeal to Irish President Eamon de Valera, de Valera being the only person with the authority to commute his sentence. His letter contained a poignant (if manipulative-sounding) passage;
‘I am not afraid to die as I am fully prepared to go before my God, but it is on behalf of my wife as she is so near the birth of our baby. Instead of one life being taken there could be three as it would be a big shock to my wife if the execution will be carried out on the date mentioned. So I would be grateful to you if you showed your mercy toward my wife and me.’
There was no mercy and no reprieve.
At 8am on April 20, 1954 the official party assembled at the ‘hanghouse’ for, unknowingly, the last time in Irish history. With Robert Leslie Stewart (known as ‘Jock’ or ‘the Edinburgh hangman’ for his Scottish roots) assisting, Pierrepoint did his job with his usual efficiency. For the last time in Ireland’s history a hooded, roped figure plunged through the floor as the trapdoors dropped with a deafening crash.
Michael Manning (and Ireland’s death penalty) had passed into history.
Manning’s widow showed immense dignity, fortitude and courage. She even wrote to the Governor of Mountjoy thanking him for the kindness with which he’d treated her husband before his execution. Part of her letter read;
‘We really adored each other and will until I join him in Heaven someday. I can assure you that Michael is also praying for you and he will return his thanks to you in some other way.’
It would be the last time a prisoner was carried out of the ‘hanghouse.’ No more would the lights in Mountjoy’s ‘Condemned Cell’ 24 hours a day until a hanging was carried out. Judges still occasionally donned the ‘Black Cap.’ Prisoners still occasionally heard what reporters once called the ‘dread sentence.’ Letters were still sent inviting Pierrepoint and his successors to perform their duties. Prisoners still sat in Mountjoy’s ‘Condemned Cell’ under 24-hour guard, what was known to prison staff as the ‘deathwatch.’ But none kept their date with the hangman.

Robert Leslie ‘Jock’ Stewart, involved in the last hangings in both the UK and Ireland.
For Albert Pierrepoint, there was a certain symmetry to it. Mountjoy had been where his career began with the death of Patrick McDermott and he was there again when Ireland’s death penalty died too. In a sense the wheel had turned full circle. For ‘Jock’ Stewart too, there was a certain symmetry. In 1956 Pierrepoint would resign in a dispute over fees and expenses so new Chief Executioners were needed. Having been an assistant at Ireland’s last execution, Stewart would himself perform one of Britain’s two simultaneous last hangings. At 8am on August 13, 1964 he pulled the lever on Peter Anthony Allen at Walton Prison in Liverpool. At Strangeways Prison in Manchester, Harry Allen dropped John Robson Walby (alias Gwynne Owen Evans) at exactly the same time.
It wasn’t, however, the last time a section of the Irish population showed their depth of feeling toward capital punishment. Long before it was formally abolished in Ireland in 1990 there was a violent riot at Mountjoy in 1973 when executions were still technically a possibility. One of the first things rioting inmates did was to head straight for the end of D Wing to destroy a particular room.
Their target?
The ‘hanghouse.’