By Jaimie Julia Winters
For decades, as March edged toward St. Patrick’s Day, area residents knew the season had arrived not by the calendar, but by a flash of green, white, and orange high above the Passaic. The Irish tricolor would be snapping in the wind at the peak of the jack-knifed Annie Bridge, impossibly placed there, daringly visible. It was a signal that spring and St. Patrick’s Day were upon us.
The man behind the feat was Mike “Keegan” Cannon of Kearny, who each year scaled the decommissioned rail bridge, in its upright position, to plant the flag at its highest point. For a long time, no one knew who he was. The flag simply appeared, year after year. Only later did locals learn the truth—that the tradition was upheld by one man for two or three decades. He held the secret close to his heart.
Even Cannon’s own family didn’t know at first.
“He didn’t tell us because he knew we would be worried,” said his sister, Eileen Cannon. “When I finally found out it was him, I said, ‘Mike, you can’t be doing this. It’s dangerous. You could fall into the Passaic River.’”
By then, the tradition was already well established.
Cannon’s daring streak, his sister said, dated back to childhood.
“He was always doing daredevil things,” she recalled. “When he was in grammar school he would get himself to the city and play manhunt in the Empire State Building.”
On another occasion, he planned a family outing that involved crossing the Hackensack River to reach Snake Hill in Secaucus.
“That was Mike,” she said. “He was always coming up with something adventurous.”
The bridge itself has plenty of history. Officially known as the NX drawbridge, or bascule bridge, it spans the Passaic River between Kearny and Newark. Built in 1922 by the Erie Railroad for the Newark Branch, it was shut down in 1977 and left permanently frozen in the open position, its skeletal arms reaching skyward. After it was featured in the 1982 film Annie, locals gave it the name that stuck. In the movie, Little Orphan Annie climbs a drawbridge while fleeing con artists posing as her parents—a scene filmed partly on the New Jersey bridge and partly on a California soundstage. The nickname endured, and so did the bridge’s mythic presence.
Cannon’s annual climb was fueled by pride in his Irish roots.
“He was really proud of his Irish heritage,” his sister said. “Our parents were first-generation Americans, and they were very proud of being Irish. We always celebrated St. Patrick’s Day growing up. We’d get dressed up in tuxes and march in the parade.”
What may have started as a spontaneous act eventually became a ritual.
“I think it was probably spontaneous at first, but then it became a tradition, a legacy every year,” she said.
For years, Cannon kept his role secret. Climbing the bridge meant trespassing, and he worried about getting in trouble.
“He always did it at night, under the cloak of darkness so no one would see him,” Eileen Cannon said. “Even when some of his friends found out, they kept it quiet.”
There were close calls. One year, as he climbed, he discovered he wasn’t alone.
“He heard this cawing when he was almost at the top and realized there was a nest,” she said. “The mother bird was not happy he was near it, but he planted the flag and somehow escaped being attacked.”
Another time, a group of people drinking beneath the bridge spotted him and wanted to climb up themselves to put up their own flag.
Despite the risks, Cannon never sought attention for the feat.
“He didn’t do it for the attention,” his sister said. “But he was happy the flag and the tradition got so much attention.”
The bridge itself has long inspired debate over civic pride. Though the structure sits in Kearny and the man who raised the flag was a Kearny resident, Newark embraced the gesture as its own. The city hosts New Jersey’s oldest St. Patrick’s Day parade, and on parade day Irish pubs fill with revelers raising pints of Guinness or shots of whiskey. The Archdiocese of Newark has even been known to grant a special dispensation from Lenten no-meat Friday obligations on parade day, allowing celebrants to enjoy corned beef and cabbage without guilt.
In 2025, the City of Newark posted on Facebook: “Did you know that every year in March, someone climbs the NX (Annie) Bridge to plant the Irish flag on top in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day? This wonderful tradition has been upheld by a Kearny resident for over 20 years!”
Cannon passed away in August of last year at the age of 55. His death prompted many to wonder whether the tradition ended with him.
In a tribute shared after his death, the Kearny Irish-American Club wrote, “It was Mike who created the time-honored Kearny tradition of scaling the famous Annie Bridge and hanging the Irish Tricolor flag every year at the beginning of March to kick off the St. Patrick’s Day season. We all looked forward to it, and once it was hung, news of it would travel around town.”
The club also remembered Cannon as a familiar figure in the local Irish-American community. He was active in the club, spent time at Donegal’s Saloon, loved soccer, and was known among friends as a devoted Deadhead.
When Cannon died, hundreds of people attended his funeral, his sister said — a testament to how widely he was known and loved.
Then came one final surprise.
On the day of his funeral, the Irish tricolor appeared once again at the top of Annie Bridge.
“It really surprised us and moved us,” Eileen Cannon said. “I hope the tradition continues. I hope he’s remembered not just for the flag raising, but because he truly was a great guy.”
As of early 2026, no one has publicly stepped forward to claim the role of successor.
Whether the climber was a friend, a family member, or simply someone moved by the moment remains unknown.
Perhaps the tradition isn’t finished after all. And maybe, the flag will rise again—beckoning everyone below to be Irish, just for one day.
Jaimie Julia Winters chronicles the stories that shape New Jersey communities as a freelance writer for Kearny Life and Community Sentinel and former editor at The South Bergenite, Ridgewood News, Community News, The Record, and Jersey Catholic.
