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Archive for January, 2010

(Once a month the three writers behind ComeHereToMe, joined by a small group of friends, visit five Dublin pubs and then write about their experiences. A different person each month picks the five pubs and they make sure not to give away any details. What fun.)

January was my month and I had picked the pubs carefully:

• Hartigan’s (For its links to UCD.)
• The Baggott Inn (For its links to Irish rock music history.)
• The Horse show bar in The Shelbourne Hotel (For its sheer beauty and history.)
• The International (For its importance in the history of Irish comedy.)
• Neary’s (For family links. This was the only pub in Dublin my grandmother ever entered ‘because of their sandwiches’.)

Out of the original five, on the day itself, three were closed. For future reference, don’t pick the Sunday after New Year’s Eve for a pub crawl in Dublin City. Things aren’t back to normal yet.

I chose the Royal College of Surgeons at 1 Saint Stephens Green as the meeting point, hoping to throw people off as to where we were going. The location meant that we just as easily could have  made our way down to Camden Street or Dawson. The RSCI is also a building of great historical significance, namely the role it played in the 1916 Easter Rising, as well as the fact that it was built on a old Quaker burial ground.

At 4:32pm approximately, the five us began our January Pub Crawl cautiously making our way across the icy pavements towards Leeson Street, stopping at 68 St. Stephen’s Green, – ‘Newman House’. I announced to the group that this would be our only stop of a historical nature during the day before telling them the story of the Whaley family who built the house, their son Thomas ‘Buck’ Whaley and a dare devil bet involving a horse, a carriage and a first floor window that occurred sometime in the 1780s.

As we turned the corner, I was taken by surprise to see that Hartigan’s was closed. Undaunted by this initial set back, we crossed the road to Hourican’s, the pub that sits directly opposite. This is one of those forgotten pubs, one that thousands of people pass on their bus everyday, but very few venture into. The pub itself was quite pleasant. If I remember correctly, it had a lovely wooden interior decorated with a few more ‘Irish street signs’ and old advertisements than was necessary. The barman was extremely friendly, offering to bring us down our drinks. We had a lovely pint, a chat and then were on our way.

Hourican's. (Flickr user ihourahane)

As I said, I had hoped to bring the gang down to The Baggott Inn next. Though I’ve heard it’s lost all its charm, no one can deny its important connection to the development of Irish punk and new wave in the late 1970s and early 1980s. It was not to be. The doors were firmly locked.

So instead we had to skip ahead to The Shelbourne. One of my favourite buildings in Dublin, I don’t think I need to argue its historical significance. The Shelbourne has stood over the Green since 1824 and played an important role in the 1916 Rising and the drafting of the Irish Constitution in 1922, which occurred in Room 112.

The Shelbourne (Kevin O’Sullivan - Pues Occurences)

My favourite historical anecdote about the hotel dates from a little earlier. In 1911, Adolf Hitler’s half brother, Alois Hitler Jr., worked as a waiter in the hotel. During his time in the city, he met a Clondalkin woman called Bridget Dowling. They eloped to London, later having a child called William Patrick “Paddy” Hitler who only passed away in 1987.

William Patrick Hitler's father Alois Hitler was a waiter in The Shelbourne

I had wanted to visit the Horse Shoe bar (rumoured to have been where The Chieftains formed) but unfortunately it was closed. Instead we had to visit the Shelbourne’s new ‘No. 27’ bar. Though by now a clichéd term, it was fitting to mutter “recession, what recession?” while walking through the crowd. With eyes definitely on the five young males who were looking very out of place, we didn’t savor our pretty average pints and were soon making our way out of the revolving doors.

Knowing that I had now one pub extra to add to our tour, I took my uncle’s advice and chose The Bailey. I’ll say more about its history than our visit there. Once a pub of  literary renown, it has been in business since 1837. Charles Parnell was once a regular patron,  as was James Joyce, Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw. Later Arthur Griffith was the centre of a group that met there including Oliver St. Gogarty, Seamus O’Sullivan (poet and editor of The Dublin Magazine), Padraic Colum (poet and dramatist) and James Stephens (novelist).

The Bailey, 1971. (c) The Irish Times

In the 1950s, it became the regular haunt of Brendan Behan, Liam O’Flaherty and Brian O’Nolan (Flann O’Brien). At the time, the owner of The Bailey, John Ryan, was an editor and publisher. He was the founding editor of Envoy (1949-51), a “short lived but important” literary magazine. During the first half of the 1970s, he edited the Dublin Magazine and was secretary of the James Joyce Society of Ireland.

“It was also the site of the door of 7 Eccles Street, the home of James Joyce’s protagonist from Ulysses, Leopold Bloom. The door was presented to the pub and publicly unveiled on June 16, 1967, by poet Patrick Kavanagh who had saved it from a renovator’s axe” – Brian Thomsen

In the 1980s, it became the haunt of a whole new generation of poets and writers – Phil Lynott and Thin Lizzy, Bono and U2, Bob Geldof and The Boomtown Rats, Philip Chevron and The Radiators from Space and Sinead O’Connor.

Sinead O'Connor with punk outside The Bailey. Photo - Wally.

It has since lost all of its charm. In 1995, the pub was gutted and sold to the Thomas Read Co. while all of its fittings and fixtures “with approximately 140 prints and paintings” were put up for auction. It is now just another upmarket, ‘trendy’ bar.

We moved on to The International at the corner of Wicklow and South William Street. A beautiful pub, it was no surprise to see that there were no seats in the main bar but we more than happy to take our drinks to the cozy basement. The bartender was happy to turn down the blaring music and we chatted away about the weather, the economy and other important matters.

The International Bar © The Chicago Bar Project

Pressing on, we slipped down Coppinger Row across Clarendon Street, onto the lovely Chatham Street and past the two brass hand held glowing lamps into the welcoming door of Neary’s. As I might have guessed by this stage, the superior upstairs part of the pub (The Chatham Lounge) was closed but we were able to find two tables downstairs in a quiet corner at the back of the bar.

Due its close proximity to the Gaiety, it is frequented by figures from the world of theatre. A back door beside the toilets leads to a lane which in turn leads to the back door of the Gaiety itself. The actor Alan Devlin famously used this as a escape route in 1987:

“Perhaps (Devlin’s) finest hour came while he was playing Sir Joseph Porter in the Gaiety Theatre’s 1987 production of HMS Pinafore.

As stage legend has it, Gilbert and Sullivan’s much-loved operetta was wandering to its predictable conclusion when Devlin turned to the audience, said: “F**k this for a game of soldiers, I’m going home,” and clambered through the orchestra pit, shouting: “Finish it yourself!” and vanished. Still dressed in the flamboyant costume of an admiral, Devlin (scuttled) into Neary’s bar, where he approached the counter, drew his sword and demanded a pint.

And thanks to radio mike technology, the cast and audience in the theatre next door were still able to hear the thespian, ordering a round of drinks and fearlessly critiquing the production he had recently departed.” – Joe O’Shea

By this stage, our conversation was beginning to really flow, as the one pint one pub rule was set aside and a number of friends joined us at this late stage of proceedings.

Albeit with a few hiccups, the ComeHereToMe January Pub Crawl was a success and I look forward to my turn again so I can visit some the pubs that were closed that day. Onwards to February…

January’s five pubs were:
1. Hourican’s, 7 Lower Leeson Street.
2. The Shelbourne, 21 St. Stephen’s Green
3. The Bailey, 2 Duke Street.
4. The International, 23 Wicklow Street.
5. Neary’s, 1 Chatham Street.

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I’ve been wandering the steets of Dublin quite a bit in the last few days, and on Thursday found myself in the Castle itself. Looking up at the gates of the inner courtyard, I was reminded about a short but interesting titbit of local history. Atop the gates sits a statue of Iustitia, or Lady Justice to you and me.

Iustitia (Lady Justice,) Dublin Castle.

Now the interesting thing about this statue, erected by British Authorities in 1751, is that it betrays many of the characteristics statues of this type are supposed to adhere to. Iustitia, in representing Justice, is supposed to be blindfolded- Blind to discrimination. Here, her eyes are unbound. Her scales, are always to be in working order and perfectly level; Innocent until proven guilty- Here, they always tilt in one way; Funnily enough, they lean to the side of the gate that Revenue, and Dublin’s Tax Office is situated. Her sword, meant to be pointing downwards is held provocatively upright and she looks at it with a smile on her face.

What really got to people when she was erected however, is the direction she is faced; You will find statues of lady justice in Government buildings all over the world, and you will find her looking out over the city. Only in Dublin, does she face into the courtyard, turning her back on the people of Dublin. Just a thought; How could the tribunals held regularly in the Castle ever come out with a fair and honest representation of Justice when Lady Justice herself presides over them with her back to the people and a smile on her face?

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Erich Hartmann (1922-1999). Born in Munich, Hartmann emigrated to the US in 1938. He enlisted in the US army and served in the Normandy invasion. On his return to New York, he worked as a freelance photographer and was invited to join Magnum in 1952. He served as a Board member 1967-1986 and as President 1985-86. As a photojournalist, he travelled all over the world on assignments from newspapers, magazines and corporate clients.

Hartmann took over 3,000 images during his “own journey of discovery through Dublin” in 1964 but unfortunately only a few are available online.

© Erich Hartmann / Magnum Photos

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Liam Weldons 'Dark Horse On The Wind'


“Yet there’s always hope in anyone singing as well as this man sings on this record, singing words as true and as deeply felt as these, in this voice both lonely and full of power. This is Dublin singing and Irish singing, as Dublin as the Easter Rising, as Irish as the Love Songs of Connacht or Flanders fields or the Limerick Soviet that got clobbered”

-Pearse Hutchinson on Liam Weldons ‘Dark Horse On The Wind’

James Connolly (Track 5)

Liam Weldons ‘Dark Horse On The Wind’ is one of the classic Dublin albums. Both my own parents are of Ballyfermot stock, and Liam lived opposite my mothers family home where she says a familiar face or two could often be seen. Ballyfermot played no small part in the ‘Folk Renaissance’ of the 1960s and 70s of course, with Downeys and other pubs in the area hosting fantastic singers nights and sessions, the Ballyfermot Phoenix Folk Night in particular. The Fureys of course were a huge part of the scene locally, as was Liam, but names and faces like Christy Moore would swing by on occasion too. Only quite recently I saw Andy Irvine upstairs in Downeys, so some of the tradition remains.

I’m rambling here however, back to ‘Dark Horse On The Wind’. A ’76 classic from Mulligan Records. A class act, thankfully brought back to us in 1999 with a star-studded launch in the Cobblestone (sadly on the other side of the city from Ballyfermot, but all is forgiven) An album that opens with a song reflecting on the troubles of the time in which it was written, lamenting our dead and cursing the nature of the “nation of the blind” that ensured yet more would join then. An album that closes with a beautiful song about, of all the innocent things in the world, the Jinny Joe. Between the Mausers and the Jinny Joes, we find songs of love and songs of class conflict. Blue Tar Road in particular dealing with, what Liam himself termed

“Travellers being pushed from pillar to post by the corporation and even some mortgage-minded vigilante type citizens”

Fintan Vallely, writing in the Sunday Tribune in 1999 about the songs of Liam Weldon, stated that


“Uncompromising, these challenged the middle-class complacency of the Irish Free State, and dangerously he trod ground shared with critics of a Irish national identity which he believed in”

That perfect Dublin mix, of the personal and political, the songs of love and the songs of liberty, is what makes ‘Dark Horse On The Wind’ the classic it is. Here, you’ll find ‘James Connolly’ (perhaps the best rendition I’ve heard, and a song of a man Liam termed “Irelands greatest socialist revolutionary”) and Smuggling The Tin, a nice short number on smuggling tin across the border into the free state.

While Liam was unsure who had written James Connolly, in ‘One Voice’ Christy Moore writes that he himself had

“…long since recorded it before I learned that it was written by Patrick Galvin, the Cork poet and writer. We have subsequently met.

….I did a subsequent recording for an album commemorating 100 years of the Scottish Trade Union council. The inclusion of the song caused anger among certain Scottish Trade Unionists who cared not that Connolly gave his life, living and dying, for all workers north, south, east and west. It was ironic uproar indeed, for Connolly was born in Edinburgh in 1869”

Liam Weldon passed away in 1995.


Smuggling The Tin (Track 2)

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Combining my love of making lists and anecdotal Dublin history, I’ve been trying to work out what the oldest restaurant in Dublin City is. The following rules apply:

1) It has to be an actual restaurant, not a pub that serves food.
2) Restaurants within hotels don’t count.
3) It has to be in the same premises. (We’ve made one exception with The Unicorn seeing as it only moved around the corner and remained within the same family.)

+ Beaufield Mews, Stillorgan. (Estd. 1950). CLOSED 2019

+ The Unicorn, 12B Merrion Court (Originally established in 1938 at 11 Merrion Row, it moved to Merrion Court in the early 1960s.) CLOSED 2017

+ The Trocadero, 4 St. Andrew’s Street (Estd.1956)

+ Nico’s, 53 Dame Street (Estd.1964) – CLOSED 2018

+ The Lord Edward restaurant, 23 Christchurch Place (Estd. 1967) –  CLOSED 2015

+ The Gigs Place, South Richmond Street (Estd. 1970) – CLOSED 2012

+ Captain America’s, 44 Grafton Street (Estd.1971)

+ Flanagan’s, 61 Upper O’Connell Street (Estd. 1980)

+ The Lobster Pot, 9 Ballsbridge Terrace (Estd. 1980)

+ Kingsland, 15 Dame Street (Estd. c. 1980) – CLOSED 2011

+ The Bad Ass Cafe, 9-10 Crown Alley (Estd. 1983)

+ Independent Pizza Company, 28 Drumcondra Rd Lower, Drumcondra (Estd. 1984)

+ Cornucopia, 19 Wicklow Street (Estd. 1986)

+ Da Vincenzo’s, 133 Upper Leeson Street (Estd. 1988) – CLOSED c. 2012

+ The Elephant and Castle, 18 Temple Bar (Estd. 1989)

Jammets Restaurant, Estd. 1901 on Andrews St moved to Nassau St. in 1927 and closed in 1967.

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“There will be a gig in The Button Factory on Jan 12th.with The O’Catháins, Frankie Lane,Noel Heavey, Davoc Rynne, Andy Rynne,Tom Tuohy,Ann Egan agus mise.The gig is part of the County Sessions and will feature songs and music from Kildare.It will be hosted by Luka Bloom”

-christymoore.com

The Button Factory in Dublin has been playing home to fantastic ‘county nights’ now since last year, with several counties including the capital down so far. Guests to date have included Matt Molloy of The Chieftains and ‘THAT pub’ fame and Colin Mac Con Iomaire.

Next Tuesday sees Kildare rise to the Dublin stage. The night, hosted by Luka Bloom, features the likes of Tom Touhy and Noel Heavy, along with the classic Christy Moore.

Tickets are €17.50 and available now from tickets.ie. The three of us from CHTM! made our way to the Dublin night last month and enjoyed every minute of it, so another trip may well be in order….

Doors: 8PM, Show: 9PM

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(A review of of the pubs, clubs and gigs)

Sunday, 27 December:

As cabin fever was setting in after a full 48 hours with my Christmas obsessed mother, I decided to meet up with my friend Paul for a drink on Sunday evening, the day after Stephens Day.

We met at the top of Grafton Street and strolled down to Ruaille Buaille on South King Street (formerly called both Major Tom’s and Down Under) as we heard they were doing €3 drinks. To our disappointment, it was closed. For good. Another victim of the recession.

Grafton Street (contemporaryphotograph.com)

Our Plan B was the ‘Restaurant Royale’ on Upper Stephens Street which I read online were doing €3.50 pints. It also turned out to be closed.

Thankfully our Plan C, ‘Karma’ on Fishamble Street was open. Usually a popular spot for its drink deals, the place was empty on this particularly night.

While we were sipping our drinks, a French couple weighed down with luggage walked into the bar. With them was their Dublin taxi driver. The three of them seemed a bit stressed. From what we could gather, the couple had booked online to stay in the connected George Frederic Handel Hotel back in early December. However, no one had told them that the hotel shut up business three weeks ago and now they were stranded on a cold, Sunday evening in Dublin without accommodation. Thanks to the friendliness of the taxi driver, a few young locals at the bar and a security guard outside, the couple were able to quickly secure a room at a hotel around the corner. As of today, the hotel’s website is still online which is a bit dodgy, especially if they’re still accepting bookings.

As Karma was no better than a cold, empty warehouse, we finished our drinks and headed around the corner to The Turks Head. I’ve always liked The Turks Head for some reason. The interior is lovely, the staff are always friendly, they have great ska nights on Thursdays and you can get a pint of fosters for €3.75. Though I’ve been through the doors many times, I only noticed that evening that they served food. Feeling a bit peckish I ordered a portion of Garlic Bread and Vegetarian Spring Rolls, which I shared with Paul. The servings were generous, the quality decent and at only €3 something each, they were a bargain.

The Bionic Rats @ The Turks Head. Every Sunday.

At this point, the messer DFallon walked in, on time as usual. We finished up our pints and strode up to The Lord Edward at Christ Church Place where we were to meet an old friend Oisin who was home for Christmas from London. The pub was buzzing with little clutters of friends and work mates in every corner laughing and drinking the evening away. The celeb spotter in me noticed Roddy Doyle sipping a Guinness with two friends. We had an enjoyable night of banter and reminiscing. Begrudgingly leaving at around 11.15pm in order to get the last bus. The steaming salt and vinegar chips from Burdocks being my only comfort as I traipsed down Dame Street to catch my bus.

Monday, 28 December:

On Monday evening I went to see Madness in The Point Theatre (O2) with my younger brother. My ma had won two tickets at a work raffle and passed them on to me. Though I’ve always been a Specials’ man, I always had time for Madness. They produce catchy, pop songs – ‘My Girl’, ‘It Must Be Love’, ‘Our House’ and my personal favourite ‘Deceives The Eye’. I was excited. I had never seen Madness live before and I hadn’t been to the new 02.

As we entered the venue, three separate members of security checked our tickets. It all seemed a bit over the top. I headed over to the bar to get a pint. My choices of larger were Carlsberg, Carlsberg or Carlsberg. The barman asked for I.D. No problem, I thought, handing over my Age Card, he’s only doing his job. He studied the picture, looked at me, checked the Date of Birth and then looked at me again before casually mentioning that they “only serve alcohol to individuals over the age of 21”. What a joke.

We ended up paying exorbitant prices for soft drinks. The whole mood of the place was wrong. It didn’t feel right going to Madness with groups of families scoffing Tayto crisps and big bags of popcorn all around you. Depressed looking twenty something year olds walking around the aisles selling plastic bottles of Carlsberg like it was a baseball game in the States. It was along way from when Madness played the Olympic Ballroom off Camden Street in 1980.

Jerry Dammers from The Specials acted as the warm up DJ (Dammers famously had a big falling out with the rest of the band meaning that he didn’t join them on their triumphant 30th anniversary tour). There’s no doubt that Dammers was an excellent DJ and has a unrivalled knowledge of ska particularly the early Trojan and Studio One records. However, he shouldn’t have been the one trying to warm up such a huge crowd and venue. Leave Dammers for the after show party. Madness should of got one of the many local hardworking ska bands to act as support. The Bionic Rats, Present Arms, Skazz or The Gangsters come to mind. Fact of the matter is – it doesn’t work well to have a DJ in the middle of a massive stage, playing old 45s, trying to loosen up the crowd in a venue the size of large warehouse.

Following a long wait and an anti climatic 10mins ‘short’ documentary about the early days of Madness that they shown on a screen that was too small above the stage, the band came on. As hoped, they were on form, belting out hit after hit. The crowd went nuts. Decent end to a bad start.

Afterwards, I went down to meet Dfallon and some of his school friends (who I’ve since befriended) down in Mulligans on Poolbeg Street. The place was surprisingly busy for a Monday evening. By the time I finished queuing up and had the first sip of my pint, the gang had begun to put on their coats. This was a pub-crawl and our next stop was Kehoe’s on South Anne Street. The whole place was packed. It’s no fun trying to have a pint and a chat when you risk knocking someone’s drink by turning around. After Kehoe’s, we began an ardent quest to find a nightclub that was open on a Bank Holiday. We had no luck. Everywhere decent place was closed and every kip was full. Roll on New Years Eve.

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Dublin City has had it’s fair share of hell-raisers in the last century or so, mostly a product of purveyors of Arthur Guinness’ finest. But the history of hell- raising goes back well before the birth of the black stuff; most infamously in Irish history in the half-century before the good man himself poured his first pint and let it settle when Dublin was host to it’s own Hellfire Club.

The first Hellfire Club was founded by the Duke of Wharton in London in 1719 and was and was an exclusive club, mainly populated by a class of rich, landed Gentry called “Bucks” who chose to pursue a certain type of enjoyment which generally involved a pious mix of gambling, blaspheming, whoring, drinking, violence and even the odd touch of Satanism. (Though there is little evidence of this, it is something that is seen to go hand in hand with the original Hellfire Club and seems to stem from them calling each other “Devils.”) Their behaviour was seen as an affront to the ideals of the church and the sacred principles of religion; corrupting to the minds and morals of young people. Wharton’s club came to an end in 1721 when George I put forward a bill “against ‘horrid impieties'” (or immorality), aimed specifically at the Hellfire Club. (1)

Medmenham Abbey, reputed home of the first ever Hellfire Club

From their ashes, The Dublin Hell-Fire Club was founded by Richard Parsons (1st Earl of Rosse and founder of the first Irish Lodge of Freemasons,) and Colonel Jack St Leger (The son of a rich landowner from Kildare, notorious for gambling large amounts of money on ridiculous wagers.) The Club motto was “Fais ce que tu voudras,” or “Do as thou wilt,” a nod to Rabelais’ Theatre of the Absurd. Meetings started with all members sitting around a circular table upon which was placed a huge punch bowl of scaltheen, a rancid mixture of Irish whiskey and melted butter. After toasting the Devil and drinking to the ‘damnation of the Church and its prelates’ the bucks would pour scaltheen over a cat, obtained for the occasion, and set fire to the poor feline. After this, the decadence could begin in earnest.

The club had various headquarters around Dublin such as the now demolished Eagle Tavern on Cork Hill, founded by Parsons sometime around 1735. The Eagle Tavern and Cork Hill are now no more, lost in the regeneration of Temple Bar. We do know that the Tavern was situated close to the IFI and the Quakers Hall in Temple Bar. (2) Another favorite meeting place was Daly’s Club, College Green. Here, shutters were kept closed in the morning so that members with hangovers could gamble and drink by candlelight. One notorious incident occurred here when a member, Buck Sheely was caught cheating at cards. A ‘court’ was convened presided over by Buck English; His verdict was that Sheely was to be hurled through the window of the third floor gaming room- he died in the fall, impaled on the railings below.

The Hellfire Club, Montpellier Hill

Perhaps the most famous of the meeting places of the Hellfire Club was on Montpellier Hill, in the Dublin mountains, not far from Rathfarnham. It was built around 1725 on land purchased from the Duke of Wharton (founder of the first ever Hellfire Club) by William Connolly, a speaker in the Irish House of Commons. According to local legend, an ancient Cairn erected to the old pagan gods of Ireland had been demolished to make way for the lodge. Many of the stones from the Cairn were used in the construction of the house. Shortly after its completion, a powerful storm blew the slated roof away. It was replaced by a stone roof which remains intact today. For at least 20 years Mountpelier House flourished until the Bucks ruined it sometime around 1740. The story of the disaster is well known. As with the roof blowing off during its construction; local myth held that its destruction was a punishment for the desecration of the Cairn it was built upon.

At this time the ‘Principal’ of the Hellfire Club was a man of huge wealth called Richard Chappell Whaley. His nickname was ‘Burn-Chapel’ Whaley because of his hatred of religion and in particular, the Roman Catholic church. He would amuse himself on Sundays by riding around Dublin setting fire to the thatched roofs of Catholic chapels. It was he who caused the downfall of Mountpelier House. “After an unfrocked clergyman had performed a Black Mass in one of the two upstairs rooms in Mountpelier House, the ceremony ending in the usual drunken revelry, a footman picking his way through the sprawling bodies spilt some drink on Richard Whaley’s coat. Whaley reacted by pouring brandy over the footman and setting him alight. The man fled downstairs clutching at a tapestry hanging by the hall door, trying to douse the flames. Within minutes the whole house was ablaze.” (3) Many Bucks died in the fire, but Whaley managed to survive by leaping out of a window. At the age of 59, he married a woman 40 years his junior. Their son, Thomas ‘Buck’ Whaley was to become the most famous Buck of all. “Born in 1766, it was Buck Whaley who rallied the Hell-Fire club from the low ebb to which it had sunk after the burning of Mountpelier House declaring his intention of ‘defying God and man in nightly revels’.” (4)

Bucks of the Limerick Hellfire Club

Before I go into the Buck Whaley himself, here’s a piece of poetry about the Limerick Hellfire Club pictured above and it tells us a little about what shenanigans they, and the other Hellfire clubs around the country got up to:

‘But if in endless drinking you delight,

Croker will ply you till you sink outright.

Croker for swilling floods of wine renowned,

Whose matchless Board with various plenty crowned.

Eternal scenes of Riot, Mirth and noise,

With all the thunder of the Nenagh boys;

We laugh, we roar, the ceaseless bumpers fly,

Till the sun purples o’er the morning sky.

And if unruly Passions chance to rise,

A willing Wench the Firgrove still supplies’. (5)

Buck Whaley inherited a huge fortune after the death of his father, being granted a yearly allowance of £900 at the age of 16. He had an eventful upbringing, jumping between tutors in England and France before returning home having spent some time in jail. Obviously having inherited some of his fathers hatred of the church, he was thrown into jail in Marseilles, having “insulted, violently assaulted and raising his sacrilegious hands against a Priest.” He escaped a long sentence by being secreted out of the country by friends of his lawyer. While his inheritence at the time was huge, arguably, he won an even greater fortune at the gaming tables as well as partaking in some bizarre wagers. In one wager he won £25,000 from the Duke of Leinster by riding to Jerusalem and back within a year. While seeing the sights, this was not a pious pilgrimage and he later boasted of playing handball against the Walls of Jerusalem and having drunk his way there. On another occasion, for a bet of £12,000, he rode a beautiful white Arab stallion in a death-defying leap from the drawing room on the second floor of his father’s house on Stephen’s Green, over a carriage parked outside the door, and onto the street, 30-odd feet below. He won his wager, surviving with a broken leg, but killed the horse.

Remorse, however, befell Buck Whaley as his life went on and so he resolved to seek absolution for his sins. Whilst praying in St Audoen’s Church, just off modern day Thomas’ Street, he had a vision of the Devil creeping down the aisle towards him. Seized with terror, he ran from the church and fled Ireland forever.

He lived the last few years of his life, with his mistress, now his wife, in a mansion he built on the Isle of Man, where he wrote his memoirs. Repentant in his sickness and misery, he wrote “I thought that a faithful picture of my youthful eccentricities, drawn with justice and impartiality, would not be unacceptable to my country- men, and particularly to my younger friends, who will find some few examples which they may follow with advantage, but many more which they ought to avoid.” (6)

He died at the age of 34 of sclerosis of the liver. With his death the Dublin Hell-Fire Club ceased to exist.

Footnotes:

1: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hellfire_Club

2: http://homepage.eircom.net/%257Eseanjmurphy/dublin/templebar.htm

3: Taken from Setanta Orienteers by Robert Whaley, page 1

4: http://www.archive.org/stream/cu31924028518730/cu31924028518730_djvu.txt (Whaley’s memoirs)

5: http://www.askaboutireland.ie/reading-room/history-heritage/big-houses-of-ireland/glin-castle-co.-limerick/the-four-brothers/edmond-fitzgerald-20th-kn/

6: http://www.archive.org/stream/cu31924028518730/cu31924028518730_djvu.txt

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A little known link.

The Court Laundry (1903 – 1971) at 58A Harcourt Street acted out as the venue for meetings for the Spanish Aid Committee during the Spanish Civil War (1936 – 1939). [1]

Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington, the suffragette and Irish republican, acted as chairperson of the group while the secretary was John Swift, general secretary of the Irish Bakers’ Union. Other prominent members included Dorothy Macardle, the writer and historian and Nora Connolly-O’Brien, daughter of James Connolly.

The use of the laundry had been arranged by Robin (Robert) Tweedy (1853 – 1956), a Communist Party member whose family had connections with the laundry business.

[1] A. P. Behan, Dublin Historical Record, Vol. 47, No. 1, Diamond Jubilee Issue (Spring, 1994), pp. 24-45.

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Truth, in matters of religion, is simply the opinion that has survived.

The media is awash with reports that Archbishop Ryan Park in Dublin city centre is to be renamed. Situated in Merrion Square, opposite the Dail, the park features a good sized playground, Michael Collins bust, a fine collection of antique Dublin lampposts and most famously- a fantastic Oscar Wilde statue and art installation with some of his best pieces of wit featured.

The parks history is long and diverse to say the least. In the 19th century it served as a refuge for victims of the famine, but in the 1920s it fell into the hands of the church. Their aim was to build a cathedral on the site, but this never came about so the church (Or more specifically Archbishop Ryan) handed the park over to the city of Dublin in the 1970s.

Dublin councillers have voted to rename the park as “a gesture to all of those who suffered as a result of clerical abuse”.

Of course, Wilde isn’t the only option. George William Russell (The famous AE) and W.B Yeats both lived in Merrion Square. Still, perhaps the resident of Number 1 most deserves the accolade. What better way to show the modern worlds definition of “gross indecency” is far removed from that which made Wilde a ‘criminal’.

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A nice little find on Youtube. A 27 mins documentary in which “Brendan Behan acts as guide to Dublin as he tells tales about the city”. The programme, which was made two years after Behan’s death, was made up of ‘reconstructed’ commentary and interviews with relatives.

There are conversations with Brendan Behan’s father Stephen, his mother Kathleen and his widow Beatrice as well as beautiful old footage of O’Connell Street and the ‘Little Jerusalem’ area of Clanbrassil Street. The soundtrack is by The Dubliners.

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