Come Here To Me!

(All help with promoting this class is appreciated. I can be contacted via donalfallondublin@gmail.com)

Last year, myself and Dr. Irial Glynn put together a course with the Adult Education Department of U.C.D, looking at the hidden history of Dublin, and focused on social history and forgotten people from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It looked at issues like working class childhood in the city, Dublin’s history of prostitution, labour agitation in the capital and the tenement city.

It was a great experience, and we talked about it on RTE Radio One’s The History Show with Myles Dungan last year. You can listen to that feature here:

Irial has since moved on to academic pastures new, but I’m happy and excited to say the course is going ahead this February. Half the course is in class, and the other half is on the streets, with four walking tours of the city and suburbs.

It runs for four Tuesdays and four Saturdays, kicking off February 11th. Tuesday is an evening class, and Saturday is a walk from 11am to 1pm.

Please note that the listing below is a week off, and the class begins the following week, but here is the blurb:

Those interested in booking the class can do so by contacting the UCD Adult Education Department. I would be very grateful to anyone who shares this post with others they think may be interested in the class, in particular those who aren’t online.

For anyone in the city yesterday, the sight of the Liffey spilling out onto the streets of the capital was something to behold. It reminded me to go digging for one of my favourite images of the capital historically, in the form of this great 1807 illustration of a view of the River Liffey. The standout feature of the image of course is the ruins of the bridge. The Ormond Bridge, as it was known to Dubliners, was totally destroyed by flooding in 1802.

‘A South View on the River Liffey, Dublin, 1807′(Credit: British Library, http://www.bl.uk)

In G.N Wright’s An Historical Guide to the City of Dublin, there is a story told of how “A gentleman from the neighbourhood of Chapelizod was riding over at the time, and just as he arrived at a distance of ten or twelve feet from the quay, the arch before and the whole of the part he had passed gave way, when his horse with one spring cleared the chasm before him, and bore him to the opposite bank in safety.”

One interesting feature with the illustration is the manner in which day to day life is depicted, and two men can be seen relaxing against the remains of the destroyed quay wall! The bridge was eventually replaced, with the construction of the Richmond Bridge, erected between 1813 and 1816.

Advertisements from various restaurants around the city included in the guide for the 1983 Dublin Theatre Festival.

Front cover showing a member of the Henan Acrobatic Troupe in their show ‘Barrell Game’:

Front cover. Scanned – Sam (CHTM!)

Solomon Grundy’s at 21 Suffolk Street opened in 1978 and closed in 1986. It offered middle-of-the-range American food fare like burgers and pizza. The premises later hosted Nude and now Tolteca (Mexican style grill).

Solomon Grundy’s. Scanned – Sam (CHTM!)

Blazes at 11/12 Lower Exchange Street in Temple Bar was a late night wine bar and restaurant. It opened (I think) in the early 1980s and closed in 1993. The building was demolished and the site today remains empty.

Blazes. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

18th Precinct at 18 Suffolk Street opened its doors in 1981 and closed in 1993. The building now hosts an Pacinos and their website notes that the restaurant:

…was developed and launched by then owner Sylvester Costello. Syl as he was better known planned and developed an all American themed restaurant serving steak, burgers, and salads like ranging in prices from 50p to £10. The 18th Precinct was twined and themed with a New York Police Department where all the waitresses and waiters dressed in police uniform and even had gun holsters on their person. It is rumoured that Syl even ran into trouble in JFK airport when he decided to bring lots of New York Police Memorabilia back from the states to Ireland including replica guns, nightsticks and handcuffs when stopped at customs. A plaque from the 18th Precinct New York Police department, having since been restored can be found on the wall in Pacino’s as recognition of that time.

18th Precinct. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!)

Bananas at 15 Upper Stephen’s Street was a self-service vegetarian restaurant opened by Muriel Goodwin and friends in late 1982. (More on the history of vegetarian restaurants in Dublin here). It now hosts the Restaurant Royale/The Snug Guesthouse which we reviewed a few years back.

Bananas. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

Captain America’s on Grafton Street is the only restaurant out of this list which is still open. Opened in 1971, it is still going strong after a staggering 43 years. We’ve featured Jim Fitzpatrick’s 1982 murals on the blog before.

Captain America’s. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

The Granary at 34-37 East Essex Street opened in the late 1970s and was then turned into Bad Bob’s in 1984. In 2006 it was bought over as the Purty Kitchen but was renamed Bad Bobs in March 2013. More on the building and Bad Bob’s recent claim that it is the oldest pub in Temple Bar can be found here.

The Granary. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

Le Parigot, a French restaurant, at 52 Lower o’Connell Street was based in the basement of Pizzaland. Little information is available online. It was certainly open by 1981 and I assume closed sometime in the mid to late 1980s. Eddie Rockets is now based in the premises.

Le Parigot. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

Finally, I thought it be worth sharing this list of theatres that were taking part in the festival.

Theatre list. Scanned by Sam (CHTM!).

After nearly seventy years of business, independent family-owned Stein Opticians has closed its doors for the last time. Operating in the Harcourt/Camden Street area since 1944, the shop was opened by Dublin-born Mendel Stein who was born in 1915 and passed away in 2000.

Like many of Dublin’s first large wave of Jewish emigrants, Mendel’s family settled in the ‘Little Jerusalem’ area of Portobello/South Circular Road.

Mendel became heavily involved in sports and the scouting movement as a young man. In 1945, he established the Apollo gym with Paddy Whelan. Their membership spanned a cross-section of Irish society. He was also active with the Dublin Maccabi Sports Club, Fitzwilliam Lawn Tennis Club and used to train daily right up until he was well into his 80s.

As featured on this blog last year, Mendel’s ophthalmic optician practice at 36 Harcourt Road became one of the most popular opticians in the city. Customers included Michael MacLiammoir, Hilton Edwards, Harry Kernoff and others at the heart of the Dublin art and theatre scene.

An epic David vs. Goliath fight broke out in 1983 when developers wanted to demolish his practice to make way for a new office block. From the earlier article it was noted that :

While other property owners and lessees of buildings due for demolition accepted the substantial compensation, Mendel decided that he wasn’t going to give in so easily. He said that he would not leave until they gave him a new shop in the immediate vicinity and a guarantee that his (beautiful) shopfront would be preserved.

Articles on the campaign from the time period can be viewed here.

Original architectural drawing for Stein’s new shop on Camden Market. Credit – Amelia Stein

Spurred on by local support, Mendel held out and eventually received a guarantee that the shop would be taken down intact and re-erected at a new location in nearby Grantham Street off Camden Street. It traded here for the next thirty years.

Stein Opticians, 1983. Flickr User – David Denny.

This shop eventually closed its doors for the last time on Christmas week 2013. Mendel’s daughter Amelia, who worked with her dad for many years and ran the business since his passing in 2000, now plans to concentrate on her photography. She told me that she would be referring her customers to Fitzpatricks opticians in Terenure. One of the few last remaining independent opticians in the city.

I went down on Thursday 19th December to take some pictures and to mark what is an end to an era.

Front of shop. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Interior. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Second interior shot. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Original eye chart. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Continue Reading »

Below is the predicted running order for today’s event. Be sure to get in early to reserve yourselves a spot!

5.05 – 5.20 – Screening of short film ‘Gentlemen of Letters’

5.20 – 5.35 – Shane MacThomais

5.35 – 5.50 – Orla Fitzpatrick

5.55 – 6.10 – Music from Pete Holidai

6.10 – 6.25 – Patrick Brocklebank & Sinead Moloney

6.25 – 6.40 – Frank McDonald

6.45 – 7.00 – Music from Lynched

For more information, please see our earlier blog post and the Facebook event. It is part of Visit Dublin’s ‘Dublin Genius’ day of events in various locations around the city. P Mac’s pub (previously the Bia Bar) is on Lwr. Stephen’s Street just opposite the Hairy Lemon.

Event poster

On 17 April 1949, the Cabra Grand Cinema on Quarry Road was formally opened. The Lord Mayor of Dublin, John Breen, opened the 1,600 seat cinema by cutting a tricolour ribbon with a pair of gold scissors. The cinema was designed by Samuel Lyons, and in a move that captured the spirit of the time, the building was blessed by a priest from the nearby Christ the King Church in Cabra. After the formalities, the comedy Sitting Pretty was shown. The first two films listed at the cinema in newspaper advertisements (the below advertisement appeared the day after the opening) both featured Maureen O’Hara, and the cinema boasted that it was “equipped with the latest RCA sound system”, to give cinema goers a top class experience.

Advertisement for the new cinema.

The first manager of the cinemas was Louis Marie, an interesting individual who had seen action during the revolutionary period. Marie had been a member of the Fianna Éireann republican boy scout organisation, and took part in the Easter Rising in 1916. His name appears in a few of the statements given by participants in the Rising to the Bureau of Military History. Gearoid Ua h-Uallachain, who took part in the attack on the Phoenix Park magazine fort at the beginning of the rebellion, noted that “Louis Marie, manager of a picture-house”, was among those involved. One newspaper article from the time of the cinemas opening claimed that Louis had served in both the French Army and the Irish Army.

Just over a year after its opening, there were very ugly scenes at the cinema, which saw shots fired by Gardaí over the heads of a reactionary mob. Two women had to seek refuge in the cinema, after they had attracted the scorn of hundreds of local people. They had been going door to door with a “peace petition” calling for the banning of the atomic bomb, and residents believed them to be members of a communist organisation. The Irish Press reported on 25 July 1950:

GARDAI from many parts of the city were hurriedly picked up by patrol cars and rushed to Quarry Road, Cabra, last night, to disperse a hostile crowd of nearly a thousand people who had surrounded the Cabra Grand Cinema and threatened two women who had taken refuge there. Weapons brandished and thrown included sticks, stones, bricks and bottles. One Garda, as he was pushing through the shouting and jostling mass, was struck by a brick in the back, but was not seriously injured. To force the crowd away from the cinema doors, which had been closed, Gardai had to draw batons and a number of shots were fired over the crowd’s heads…. The incident had its beginning shortly after nine o’clock when the two women concerned were apparently canvassing in the Quarry Road’area for signatures in connection with a “peace petition” to ban the atomic bomb.It appears that as they were going from house to house the impression that they were members of a Communist organisation got around and they were soon surrounded by a hostile crowd.

There was more drama at the cinema in 1953 when it was held up by two men armed with what appeared to be a pistol. At the time of the robbery the cinema was showing The Apparition, a religious film which was being screened as a fundraiser for the African Missions of the Holy Ghost Fathers. £6 10s was taken on that occasion.

By the late 1950s, television was the big fear for the owners of Dublin’s suburban cinemas. The biggest problem for cinema in Ireland, one official warned in 1959, “would be the advent of television on a national basis.” Many of Dublin’s suburban cinemas closed their doors throughout the 1960s and 70s, but others took on a new lease of life as centres of their communities. Jim Keenan notes in his study of Dublin cinemas historically that “by the late 1960s, the Grand has become economically unviable and it closed on 31 January 1970. The last film shown there was The Big Gundown.” The Cabra cinema was purchased by Gael Linn in 1975, and like other suburban Dublin cinemas it became both a bingo hall and a concert venue.

Ticket to the Ramones gig at the Grand. Uploaded to the brilliant Facebook page ‘Classic Dublin Gigs’ by James Aquafredda Sr.

The old Cabra cinema witnessed a number of celebrated, and in some cases infamous, rock concerts. Indeed, the behaviour of some youngsters after one gig led to a Dublin District Court decision that no more rock concerts could be held in the cinema in 1980. In November 1980 it was reported in the Irish Press that “Gardaí told the court that gangs of youths lay in wait to attack patrons of rock concerts at the cinema.” One source blamed the violence on a “Mod and Skinhead element in Cabra who are always fighting among themselves.” Four stabbings were reported after the legendary U.S punk band The Ramones played the venue. Joe Breen, a journalist with The Irish Times, rushed to the defence of the cinema by noting that the trouble had not only taken place after the gig, but had happened far from the venue. “There is enough trouble at gigs without it being invented”, he noted. Going into the gig, the organisers claimed that the 1,000 or so in attendance were frisked and even had their belts taken from them. Of the gig itself, Breen was far from blown away, writing that “the concert in the end was something of an anti-climax. The excitement had more to do with expectation than with experience.” The Ramones were no strangers to Dublin cinemas, haven performed two years earlier in the State Cinema, Phibsboro.

Siouxsie and the Banshees, who performed in Cabra in 1980.

Siouxsie and the Banshees played the same venue soon afterwards in 1980. A comment on this very blog from a reader by the name ‘PJM’ recalled this gig, noting that the band abandoned the stage with no encore owing to the “crowd trying to get on stage and bouncers not stopping them.” 1980 was a good year for gigs at the venue, with Duran Duran also playing the cinema. Fifteen years later, Boyzone took to the stage of the old cinema before a crowd of well over 1,000 young fans, with one reviewer noting that “the bingo machine could be partially seen lying behind the curtain.”

Today, the old cinema remains very much a part of the community around it, with regular bingo nights drawing huge crowds. It, and other once thriving cinemas, are an unusual feature of suburban architecture in Dublin, and hopefully the buildings will be preserved long into the future. Many local people have great memories of films, concerts and more at this venue and we’d love to hear from you in the comments section below if you’ve a story to tell about it.

We are very pleased and excited to announce we will be hosting an evening of music, talk, film and more on 30 December at P.Mac’s pub on Lower Stephen’s Street. It is all part of Visit Dublin’s ‘Dublin Genius’ day of events, and it is totally free to attend.

For anyone wondering just where P.Mac’s is, it is the former Bia Bar, opposite the Hairy Lemon. Our event runs there from 5 to 7pm. A Facebook event for the evening can be viewed here.

We’re still finalising the line-up, but so far we feel we have put together a mix of music, history and more that captures the spirit of CHTM and should make for an interesting two hours.

Firstly, the music line-up:

Pete Holidai (Image Credit: peteholidai.com)

Pete Holidai plays with the Trouble Pilgrims and was a member of the classic Irish punk band The Radiators From Space. We have a lot of love for The Radiators on this website, see for example Sam’s ‘Dublin Punk & New Wave Singles Timeline 1977-1983’.

Lynched. (Image Credit: Irene Siragusa, via Lynched FB)

Lynched describe themselves as ‘local folk miscreants’. Having begun by performing their own folk-punk numbers, in recent years they’ve taken on many Dublin traditional songs and given them a new lease of life. Most recently I saw them perform on the same bill as Barry Gleason, and we’re big fans of what they are doing with Irish folk music.

We have a few interesting speakers lined-up, to give short talks on the subject of Dublin through the ages.

Dead Interesting by Shane MacThomais.

Shane MacThomais is the resident historian of Glasnevin Cemetery, and author of several works on Dublin’s history, most recently Dead Interesting: Stories from the Graveyards of Dublin. He is the son of legendary Dublin historian Éamonn MacThomais, and he’ll be chatting about how Dublin has changed over the years, mostly for the better.

‘Little Ada Cowper visits the Royal Panopticon of Science & Art, Dublin, 1867’ – A post from Jacolette, February 2013.

One of the most rewarding things about Come Here To Me! has been coming into contact with others online who are also doing interesting things with history. Orla Fitzpatrick is a photo historian who runs the Jacolette blog. ‘A gallery of Irish snapshot and vernacular photography’, it features many weird and wonderful pictures of Dublin, and Dubliners, through the ages.

The Destruction of Dublin – Frank McDonald

Few people have championed the cause of Dublin like Frank McDonald, journalist with The Irish Times and author of several works on the city, its architecture and planning. We’ll be chatting to the author of The Destruction of Dublin about how things are since the release of that classic book, and the state of the city today.

Where The Streets Have Two Names

We’re delighted to announce that Patrick Brocklebank (photographer) and Sinead Molony (editor) who were behind this year’s excellent book ‘Where the Streets Have 2 Names: U2 and the Dublin Music Scene, 1978-1980’ have been added to the line up for our event on the 30th. There will be slideshow of some of the most interesting photos from the book (as well as some that didn’t make it into it) followed by a Q&A session.

Quadrophenia advertisement at Ambassador. Handpainted by Kevin Freeney (Image Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gentlemanofletters/)

We are also very pleased to announce we’ll be showing the short-film Gentlemen of Letters. This new short film from Colin Brady looks at a longstanding Dublin tradition of signpainting, from the days of Dublin legend Kevin Freeney right up to Maser and modern artists in the city.

Enjoying the view from the top of the Pillar.

All help in spreading this post is appreciated.

For the last number of years, I’ve been researching the Pillar and its impact on Dubliners and Dublin life. I’m as interested in the memory of the monument, and the various rows over its replacement, as the Pillar itself. I’m hopeful of doing something with my work in the very near future, but now that it is at the final hurdle, I want to issue an appeal to people for personal images and stories.

In recent years, one of my favourite works on Dublin history has been the Hi Tone produced Where Were You, a history of Dublin street style. I liked it because it put people themselves at the heart of the work. Just like the way old photographs have survived of Dubliners in jackets they now maybe wish they never bought (or in some cases, still haven’t taken off!), I know there are hundreds of photographs across the city of people and the Pillar.

I’d be very grateful to anyone who makes contact with
a) Personal images of themselves/relatives at the monument.
b) Other items of interest, such as chunks of the monument in family ownership, or miscenalious bits and pieces like artwork.
c) Proposed alternatives for the site they themselves put forward at competititon level.

You can contact me via donalfallondublin(at)gmail(dot)com. As ever with Come Here To Me and its related projects, thank you to everyone for your support to date.

By this point of 2013, many people are perhaps suffering from Lockout fatigue.

The so-called ‘Decade of Centenaries’ however is only in its infancy, with the anniversaries of historic moments like World War I, the Easter Rising, the War of Independence and the Civil War all still ahead of us. Throw in the fact that next year will mark a thousand years since the Battle of Clontarf, and you can only come to the conclusion that ‘commemoration’ is a word we will all be hearing plenty of for the foreseeable future. For all the controversies in the press around how 2016 should be marked, it must be remembered it is a relatively easy affair for the state to commemorate events that are so distant from us in there here and now.

All of which got me thinking, how was the Easter Rising marked in Dublin in the years immediately after the event? In particular, how was it marked in 1917? A year on from the rebellion, and before the outbreak of the War of Independence, was the event marked at all, or did authorities prevent any marking of the painfully recent past? With much of Sackville Street still in ruins, and some prisoners still in English jails, did the republican movement seize the anniversary as a propaganda opportunity? Looking at newspaper reports, as well as the testimony of some participants in events, they certainly did.

Postcard showing the intense damage to Sackville Street, issued in 1916.

On 6 April 1917, a proclamation was issued by General Sir Brian Mahon, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in Ireland, and posted at the different police barracks in Dublin. It was a clear attempt at preventing any commemorative gatherings in the city during the week marking the anniversary of the uprising. It noted that “between Sunday, the 8th day of April, 1917, and Sunday, the 15th day of April, 1917” any assembly of persons for the purpose of the holding of meetings would amount to to a breach of the peace and would likely serve to “promote disaffection”. Under the Defence of the Realm Regulations, Mahon’s proclamation made it clear there would be no tolerance for unapproved gatherings, ending with the words ‘God Save the King’.

Easter Sunday 1917 was reportedly very quiet in Dublin, with The Irish Times proclaiming that, if anything, there were fewer people on the streets of the capital than on a regular Sunday. This was not attributed to appalling weather conditions. An exception to the rule was Glasnevin Cemetery, where it was noted an “exceptionally large number of persons” had been attending the graves of some who had died a year previously. The paper noted that remembrance wreaths and flowers had been placed on some of the graves, though it is unclear if these graves were predominantly of republican participants or civilians who had died.

On Easter Monday itself, all eyes were firmly on Sackville Street. It was reported in the following days newspapers that small crowds had gathered on the street from early in the morning anticipating something, and The Irish Times reported that:

Towards 9 o’clock in the morning excitement and speculation were aroused by the discovery that the Sinn Féin flag had been hoisted surreptitiously on the staff which stood on the south-east corner of the General Post Office before the rebellion, and survived the effects of bombardment on that occasion. The flag floated at half mast.

The flag fell down the pole at one stage, but by twelve noon a larger crowd had gathered on the streets and there was an incident that attracted the attention of all gathered, as a man walked across the parapet of the General Post Office and raised the flag once more. The paper reported that this was a signal “for an outburst of cheering, and various other demonstrations of approval on a wide scale.” The raising of the flag over the General Post Office once more was followed by another highly symbolic act, as republicans raised what was also reported to be a “Sinn Féin flag” from the top of the Nelson Pillar. The monument, erected to one of the heroes of the British public, had long been detested by republicans, and Nelson himself took a bullet or two during the Easter Rising. A police constable removed the flag from the Pillar, but the focus of the crowd shifted to other sites in the city as the day went on, and it was reported that some made their way down Middle Abbey Street towards Liberty Hall, which was still badly damaged as a result of firing from the Helga warship a year earlier.

The viewing platform of the Nelson Pillar, seen from the General Post Office. A repubican flag from flown from here in 1917.

Defiantly, some Dubliners wore symbols of commemoration upon their own clothing. Black bands were reportedly worn by some in the crowd at Sackville Street, while others wore “ribbons of the Sinn Féin colours.”

It was noted that the rubble of the rebellion was used by some youths to attack the police, with stone-throwing on Sackville Street from about 4 o’clock, and an Inspector and Superintendent were reportedly struck. A number of young men, “wearing republican badges”, appealed to youths to desist in throwing stones, but they continued for some time, even smashing the windows of a military guard passing through Abbey Street. This kind of behaviour was condemned by The Irish Times as “the lower element seeking to let itself loose in honour of Easter Week.” As a result of clashes between youths and police, it was reported that eight civilians and four police men were treated for injuries at Jervis Street hospital. The newspaper also reported that “young roughs” had attacked the Methodist Church in Lower Abbey Street in the melee, breaking a number of windows and doing considerable damage.
Continue Reading »

Advertisements like the one above for The Indian Store were quite commonplace in 1930s newspapers, appearing not only in An Phoblacht and the republican media, but also in mainstream publications like the Irish Press. The Indian Store sold a variety of produce inspired by India, or in some cases imported from the country. This advertisement is interesting because it attempts to ride the wave of the ‘Boycott British’ movement at the time, something we’ve looked at on the site before, in a feature on the ‘Boycott Bass’ campaign.

Republican newspapers gave very significant coverage to Indian affairs at the time, with An Phoblacht proclaiming in June 1933 that “the terror of the Tans, hidden from the eyes of the world, is sweeping over India. Indian revolutionaries, jailed for their activities, against British rule, protesting against their treatment by hunger strike, have been killed by forcible feeding.” Sympathy for Indian nationalism had existed in Irish nationalist circles long prior to the 1930s. Helena Molony, in a detailed statement to the Bureau of Military History about her involvement in revolutionary politics, remembered that the women’s group Inghinidhe na hÉireann had flypostered Dublin with posters in honour of Indian nationalist Madan Lal Dhingra, who was executed for assassinating a British official in 1909. From the gallows, Madan Lal Dhingra stated that “I believe that a nation held down by foreign bayonets is in a perpetual state of war.” He was executed at Pentonville Prison, the same prison where Roger Casement was hanged in 1916.

Back to the advertisement. This image of Maud Gonne MacBride was taken around the same time this ad appeared in the media, in the early 1930s. It should be noted that while her placard simply calls on passersby to “Boycott British Goods”, another placard is visible behind her expressing solidarity with India.

Maud Gonne MacBride protesting on O’Connell Bridge in the early 1930s.

The shop appears to have been based on Moore Street for a period in the 1930s, a street that today includes multiple Indian restaurants and international shops. The most interesting reference to the shop I can find in the archives comes from the Irish Press in May 1933, who reported that the owner of the shop was a relative of Gandhi:

Paul Cleary by Mice Hell (http://triggerthumbs.wordpress.com)

When I spoke to a healthy Philip Chevron in the lobby of Brooks Hotel in April 2012, I asked him about Paul Cleary and The Blades. He said with much enthusiasm:

I very much admired Paul Cleary. He appears to have retired from Irish music, which is a huge loss, but I don’t blame him. I know how difficult it is. I have utmost admiration for him and the band.

I don’t think anyone could have imagined that just over 18 months later, we would have tragically lost Philip to cancer at the age of 56 and that Paul would be coming out of perceived retirement to play with The Blades on stage for the first time in 27 years.

Both events are somewhat linked.

Paul explained to Pat James on Radio Nova last Sunday night (8th December) that Philip had invited him to play at his testimonial in the Olympia in August 2013. Paul sang two songs, a cover of ‘Enemies‘ by The Radiators From Space and his own ‘Downmarket‘. I’m not 100% sure but I believe this would have been the first time he had played a Blades song in public since March 2002 and before that January 1986.

Eamon Carr summed it up so well during the week when he said:

…the audience agreed on two things. One: the spirit of Philip Chevron would live forever. Two: Paul Cleary had stepped out of some ghost estate of the heart to save Ireland in a time of crisis.

In the same radio interview on Nova, Paul explained that the dignity of Philip and his close family and friends on that special night in the Olympia made a huge impact on him. While he admitted that the two weren’t particularly close friends, he had met Philip at various events down through the years and always liked him. He knew that Phil would have loved to have been able to play himself on the night if he had had the strength. Philip’s emotional testimonial concert, at which the crowd gave Paul such an amazing reaction, was one of the reasons that spurred on Paul to get the The Blades back together.

Besides sharing the same initials (ignoring Philip’s real surname of course), I believe Paul Cleary and Philip Chevron shared quite a bit in common.

Both were proud Dubliners and gifted songwriters who were able to write fantastic love songs as well as tackle serious political issues in their work. Born a couple of years apart, the explosion of punk changed both their lives. Philip formed The Radiators from Space at the dawn of punk in 1976 while the younger Paul had to wait until 1977 to get The Blades together. Both bands received widespread critical acclaim but found little financial success and their first bands suffered from record company woes.

Paul Cleary, Hot Press, 1985.

On the other hand, their song writing was very different. While Philip was strongly influenced by the theatre, the literature of James Joyce and cabaret stars like Agnes Bernelle, Paul’s Dublin had a lot more to do with James Plunkett and Sean O’Casey. It was kitchen sink realism with a Dublin twist.

So while only Philip Chevron could write:

We’ll even climb the pillar like you always meant to,
Watch the sun rise over the strand.
Close your eyes and we’ll pretend,
It could somehow be the same again.
I’ll bury you upright so the sun doesn’t blind you.
You won’t have to gaze at the rain and the stars.
Sleep and dream of chapels and bars,
And whiskey in the jar. (Song of the Faithful Departed)

Equally no-one could come close to matching Paul Cleary’s bitter description of a city torn apart by unemployment and monotony:

On a rainy afternoon
On a gambling machine
Same old jukebox, same old tune
It’s hard to break this old routine

Everything’s black and white and grey
Living from day to day to day
It’s a fatal resignation, when there’s nothing left to hope for
In a hopeless situation
I’m not waiting at an airport
I’m not waiting at a station
I’m standing at a bus stop (Downmarket)

In the bar of the Herbert Park hotel on 20th November, I spent a very enjoyable hour talking to Paul Cleary. While he sipped soda water, we spoke about football, his early musical influences, some aspects of The Blade’s career, his political motivations, his song lyrics and his plans for the future.

As is often the case with these kind of things, I believe our conversation was only really beginning to flow properly just as we had to wrap things up. But Paul is a very busy man these days and he had at least another interview if not two lined up immediately after mine. I was just chuffed that he had managed to take time to speak to me. Come Here To Me! is not a national newspaper or a music magazine. We’re just a small Dublin-focused social history blog with a loyal community of readers. I’ll always thank him for that chat and to his long-time fixer and close friend Elvera Butler of Reekus Records for sorting everything out.

In as much as possible, I wanted our chat to be a informal conversation than a rigid interview. Here it is…

I thought I could break the ice by talking about football. I heard you were quite a decent player in your younger days?

“Yeah, I played seriously until I was about 14 or 15. I was good enough to play for Dublin schoolboys. A scout from Man United came down to my parents and they were going to send me over for a trial but a few weeks before I was supposed to go over, I pulled a ligament in my ankle.”

And you were a Shamrock Rovers fan from day one?

“Yep, my Dad used to bring me to Milltown as a kid. Frank O’Neill up front. Mick Leech on the wing. We’d walk up from Ringsend most times. That was quite the walk! Though sometimes we’d get the ‘football’ double decker bus from town. We’d go home after the match and listen to Brendan O’Reilly reading out the sports results. That was the only way we’d find out about the other games that night. Then from around the age of 14 or so, I started going with a gang of mates to the matches.”

Was there much bootboy trouble on the terraces at this point?

“Oh there was. An awful lot. Rovers fans did have a bit of a reputation then. We’re talking late 1960s, early 1970s. My first floodlight game was Rovers-Bayern Munich in Dalymount. 1-1 I think. 1966 if I can remember correctly. I would have been about 7 or 8.”

Did music become your next passion after football or was there a bit of an overlap?

“There was an overlap. My Dad was really into music. He had a very eclectic taste. He was into classical, jazz and pop. One day he went out to get a [Felix] Mendelssohn album but came back with Bad Company’s ‘Running With The Back’ [1976]. He also had all the Beatles albums plus Buddy Holly, Bill Haley and other Rock ‘n’ Roll stuff too.”

Continue Reading »