Revolutionary Struggle (RS) were a small militant Marxist group active from c.1975 to c.1984. They were mainly Dublin-based, particularly Trinity College, with some members scattered around the country.  Heavily influenced by Italian armed groups like Prima Linea and the Red Brigades and the Tupamaros Uruguayan urban guerrillas, the group maintained and promoted a reputation for secrecy. Poster ‘SonofStan’ on Cedar Lounge Revolution wrote back in August 2009:

I was an undergraduate in TCD during the late ’70s and RS were a shadowy presence, credited as a huge but secretive influence behind student politics in the college. Certain student union officers, now nationally prominent, were held to be either secret members or to have been elected as ‘RS’ approved candidates.

They produced a journal called Rebel (1978 – 1985) and were heavily involved in the production of 13 issues of a quarterly political and theoretical journal called The Ripening of Time (1976-1980). It was widely respected in political circles for its rigorous Marxist analysis of the Troubles and Irish economic and social life. In 1976, the name given as editor was M. McBride and the journal had an address at 5 Henrietta Street, Dublin. By 1980 both Rebel and The Ripening of Time were using the same accommodation address – PO Box 1103, 29 Mountjoy Square, Dublin 1 and the same ‘editor’ M. McBride.

RS are best known for their alleged involvement in the shooting of a British businessman in Trinity College in March 1981 and for their quasi-mysterious leader who went by the nom de guerre of ‘Mick the Greek’, incorrectly sometimes referred to as ‘Nick the Greek’.

Feminist RS poster. Credit – IrishElection literature

In their first mention in the broadsheets (Irish Times, 17 Dec 1975), RS were named as one of eight organisations who planned to picket Leinster House against the introduction of the Criminal Law Bill. The other groups were the Dublin Shop Stewards Committee, the Irish Civil Rights Association, the League for a Workers Republic, People’s Democracy, the Revolutionary Marxist Group, the Socialist Workers’ Movement and Women Against Imperialism.

Around this time, the group formed a working relationship with Peoples Democracy and produced a pamphlet on the threat of a Loyalist fascist takeover in the North. The two groups fell out about 1976.

Ripening of Time, No. 4, The Capitalist State, 1976 (Credit – Cedar Lounge Revolution)

In the 2nd of October 1977 issue of Magill magazine, they were described as a group of ‘New Leftists … following Marcuse, Poulantzis etc.’ with an address at 51 Carysfort Avenue, Blackrock, Co. Dublin.

In November 1977, RS and the Internationalists (CPI-ML) successfully disrupted and shut down a meeting of the recently-formed Wargamers Association of Trinity College whose first guest speaker was the United States military attache, Colonel Beeres, who was due to speak on the role of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) in Europe. The Irish Times (9 November 1977) reported that activists with the Peace and Disarmament Committee handed out leaflets while RS and other militant students ‘pushed, kicked (and) shouted’ to stop the meeting.

Address for Rebel/RS, 1981.

Trinity Student Union President Ian Wilson criticised RS, who he called ‘ultra-leftists’, in February 1978 after their members led a campaign for students to only pay 30p for a four course lunch instead of the normal charge of 75p to 80p. As reported in the Irish Press (17 February 1978), RS members refused to pay ‘more than what they considered reasonable to their income and the quality of the food’. Wilson said: ‘We have good relations with staff unions and this kind of thing messes (things) up … These students are gong the wrong way about the matter’.

In July 1979, RS were described as a ‘revolutionary element’ who had infiltrated the anti-nuclear/environmental movement in order to use it ‘as a front for an anti-State campaign’. Speaking to the Irish Press (9 July 1979), Brendan Howlin (now a Labour Party TD and currently Minister for Public Expenditure and Reform ) of the Nuclear Safety Association said: ‘We want to make it clear that our aims are non-political and that these people do not represent us’.

RS logo and slogan. Taken from ‘Revolutionary Struggle: Ireland the Class War and Our Tasks. (Dublin, 1977) ‘. Credit – Dublin Opinion

Joe Duffy, broadcaster and former Trinity College Student Union President (1979/80), mentioned the group in his autobiography:

One political group on campus was called Revolutionary Struggle, or RS, as we knew them. Their banner appeared at a few of our demos. They were led by a mysterious figure, Mick the Greek, who looked disturbingly like Demis Roussos … When I first met him, I instantly disliked (him) mainly because he began by praising my leadership of the Trinity students and my campaign to ‘bring down Trinity College’ … I immediately mistrusted him – and decided in my conspiratorial head that he was probably the archetypal CIA agent, operating as an agent provocateur!

This unsubstantiated claim about ‘Mick the Greek” has been brought up on Indymedia and other internet forums before.

Rebel (no. 44, April 81). Credit – Cedar Lounge Revolution

In the early 1980s, RS members were involved in the setting up of the Dublin Resource Centre (DRC) at 6 Crow Street in Temple Bar. This centre was home to a number of co-operatives including a left-wing radical bookshop, a vegetarian restaurant (Well Fed Cafe) and a printing co-op.

Some of their other activity was far less legal. Sources linked them to the burning of several CIE buses and the wrecking of a McDonalds in 1980/1981. This claim was repeated in the Irish Press (5 April 1981) and the latter event confirmed by Michael Youlton (‘Mick the Greek’) in an interview with a German electronic newspaper ‘Schattenblick’ in February 2011:

In 1981 in the center of Dublin, a great anti-tax demonstration was attended by several hundred thousand people. As the protesters passed O’Connell Street about a hundred of our people separated from the crowd, walked into the local branch of McDonald’s, which had just been on strike at that time because the company refused the right for its employees to organize in unions, and they took the place apart in about seven or eight minutes . After the action, we dived back into marching crowd. Such were the actions that we have taken: violent protests against personal property, but never against people.

(Note: I slightly edited the translation from Google to make it more readable.)

Youlton also revealed that the group had cells in Britain and France. He said that RS followed three principles which he respected:

Firstly, it was not an exclusively Irish organization. There were three to four cells in the UK and a few in France. We were active internationally right from the start. As for the ideological background, our models were the Tupamaros, a guerrilla movement in Uruguay.

Secondly, we were of the view that the political organizations of the left in all countries … should be allowed, if necessary, to use violence against the state and capital. We therefore represented a political and militant attitude. Within the period in question there were a number of violent or extrajudicial incidents that have been brought to justice or injustice with us.

Thirdly, we had agreed among themselves, regardless of what extra legal action was planned, to never claim credit for it .

The group also hinted heavily in Rebel that they had some involvement with attacks on prison officers homes in the same period. Their literature was certainly supportive of the armed struggle with ‘Nationalise the War’ being their most famous slogan.

One known RS member was given a two-year suspended sentence in 1983 for his involvement in the 1981 H-Block British Embassy riot in Dublin. The activist was photographed with a piece of wood in his hand and then throwing what appeared to be a brick.

As such, it is possible to see a build-up in language and actions in the run up to the Trinity shooting.

Rebel (no. 44, April 81). Credit – Cedar Lounge Revolution

On 24 March 1981, three masked man burst into the packed Dublin Chamber of Commerce lecture hall at Trinity College. Here Geoffrey Armstrong, the chairman of British vehicle-manufacturing company British Leyland and director of the Confederation of British Industry, was giving a lecture on ‘Managing Change in an Uncertain Climate’.

One of the armed men shouted ‘Everybody freeze, nobody move! This action is in support of the H-Blocks’ and then shot Armstrong three times in the legs. He was taken to Meath Hospital for an emergency operation and was allowed back to England the following day. He spent 10 days in hospital in England and returned to work six weeks later when he could walk with aid of two sticks.

The Provisional IRA immediately denied any involvement while the National H-Block Committee said that ‘the action … (was) in contrast to their policy as an open, peaceful and democratic movement in solidarity with the prisoners’ five demands’.

Police sources initially blamed the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) for the shooting. However on the 9th of April Professor Paul Wilkinson, of the Politics Department at Aberdeen University, named RS in the Daily Mail as the ‘little known leftist group’ who were responsible for the shooting. He also said that the group had links to the Italian Red Brigade and that former members of this group may have been involved in the attack.

The Irish Press, 9 April 1981.

Speaking to The Irish Times on 17th April, a Garda spokesman said it was ‘highly unlikely that a Red Brigades cell’ was responsible for the shooting but admitted that they were ‘keeping an open mind’. Trinity Security Officer, Captain John Martin, confirmed to journalist John Armstrong that a ‘Red-Brigades type group’  (i.e. RS) was active in the university two years ago.

Aberdeen University professor Paul Wilkinson expanded on his theory saying that the shooting was the work of ‘disaffected members of the Republican movement’ with contacts with Marxist revolutionary cells in western Europe:

I don’t think the group is still based in TCD but it includes former members of the Trinity cell. I think we’ll see more of them. Their targets are likely to be symbols of capitalism, representatives of multi-national companies…

In response, Trinity Student Union President Eoin Scott told the Irish Press (15 April 1981) that there ‘was a group called RS, an anarchist group, operating (in Trinity) about two years ago but they died out when (their) more prominent members … left college’. He said that while it is probable but ‘highly unlikely’ that one of this group was involved in the attack -  it was false to suggest that ‘Red Bridgade group’ were currently operating out of the university.

In May 1981, members of the Trinity Friends of the Earth sued the Irish Press and RTE for defamation after both news agencies accused RS of ‘being responsible’ for the occupation of the EEC offices in Dublin in November 1979. These five activists with the Trinity Friends of the Earth, who were behind this peaceful ‘act of civil disobedience’, were named at the time in the media and they sought to clear their names from being in anyway associated with RS.

On 31st August 1982, a young Italian was arrested on the Sandyford Road and taken into custody under Section 30 of the Offences Against the State Act in connection with an armed robbery at Churchtown Road.

Giovanni Maritonni (27), a native of Florence with an address at South Docks Street, Ringsend was then charged in the Special Criminal Court with the shooting and wounding of Geoffrey Armstrong.

The Irish Times, 3 September 1982

It transpired that Maritonni was wanted by the Italian police and had been sentenced to eight-and-a-half years in his absence in December 1980 for possession of a firearm and subversive association. The Irish Times (6 September 1982) stated that he had established links in Dublin with ‘Socialist Revolution’ (sic) which was described as ‘an obscure left-wing group which had allied itself with Provisional Sinn Fein’s policy on Northern Ireland’.

It was also revealed that the Italian had mental health issues and had been receiving psychiatric treatment.

In February 1983, Mariotti was jailed for 12 years for his part in the Trinity shooting. Finger prints from the door of the room where the shooting took place matched those of Mariott.

Mr Justice D’Arcy told him:

The whole layout of this crime was premeditated. It was carefully planned and executed by you.

Assuming he served his full sentence, he would have been released in 1995.

In a statement that Mariotti later ‘totally rejected’ and denied making, he admitted his role in the shooting and told police that the action was planned in a printing works at the back of Guinness’s brewery on 23rd March 1981. Those allegedly present at this meeting and named in in the newspapers were Ursula Barry, Pauline Conroy, Michael Youlton , Michael Cunningham, Frank (Connolly) and a man called Tom.

List of bookshops where ‘The Ripening of Time’ was available. c. 1980

While Ursula Barry admitted to The Irish Times (17 February 1983) that Mariotti did stay in her house in Ringsend for a short period while she away on holidays, she denied (along with the other named people) any involvement with RS or the Trinity shooting. Ursula Barry and Frank Connolly (as it was revealed in 2005) were among several RS members arrested immediately after the shooting but all were released without charge. Barry told the newspaper:

I am a political activist … involved with the H-Blocks campaign, the anti-Nuclear struggle and I’m on the steering committee of the Anti-Amendment Campaign.

In the same Irish Times piece, Garda sources described RS as a ’30 strong group .. spawned in TCD in the mid 1970s’ based mainly in Dublin but with small cells in Cork and Limerick. In a recent issue of Rebel, the Irish Times recalled how the group ‘openly called on the unemployed to rob banks and post offices instead of mounting protest marches’.

Other members of RS included Terry Moore and Sean Murphy (named by Philip Ferguson in 2002) and Jimmy Brown (named by Liam O Ruairc in 2005).

In Michael Youlton’s 2011 interview, he claims that RS had up to 350 members and disbanded in the mid 1980s over internal disagreements towards the armed struggle:

In the early eighties, we were also involved in organizing protests in support of the hunger strike. In the mid-eighties there was significant tensions within the group because of diverging views regarding the armed struggle of the IRA and Sinn Fein.

In this phase, we had grown to 300 to 350 members, which represents an important organization in Ireland. After disagreements at two conferences could not be settled, we decided to disband the group. We did this because we did not want to follow the example of the Irish Republican Socialist Party where violence between members and ex-members was common. It was decided to peacefully wind down the organization and for individual ex-members go into the policy direction they wanted to take. Some joined the Provisional movement, others the IRSP and some others took their temporary or full-time break from politics.

Youlton did not mention the shooting in the interview but it can be said that their one foray into armed struggle was a huge factor in the group’s demise.

If anyone, former RS members or otherwise, wants to get in touch with additional information I would be very grateful.

Postscript:

- Dr. Ursula Barry (who was on editorial board of ‘The Ripening of Time’ but not involved with RS) is currently Head of Women’s Studies and Deputy Head of the School of Social Justice at University College Dublin.

- Dr. Pauline Conroy worked at the European Commission and was the Editor for the European Commission’s Annual Report on Equal Opportunities between women and men during the 1990s. She is now a researcher and Independent social policy analyst with Ralaheen Ltd.

l-r, Ursula Barry (member of The Ripening of Time collective), Seán Ó Siochrú (presenter), Michael Youlton (also member of collective), Conor McCabe (historian). From ‘Looking Left: The Ripening of Time – Episode Two’, DCTV, June 2009.

- Michael Youlton moved back to Greece and worked there from 1986 to 1992. After traveling around the Middle East, he returned to Ireland to work and became active with the Peace and Neutrality Alliance (PANA) in 1996 and later became co-Chair of the Irish Anti War Movement (IAWM) in the early 2000s and then National Co-ordinator of the Campaign Against the EU Constitution (CAEUC).

- Frank Connolly became one of Ireland’s leading investigate journalists, breaking stories about political corruption in Dublin and Garda misconduct in Donegal. He was spokesperson for Dublin Sinn Fein in 1990. From 1993 – 2002, he worked with the Sunday Business Post and later wrote for Ireland on Sunday, the Irish Mail on Sunday and Village Magazine. In 2005, he was accused by by the then Minister for Justice, Michael McDowell of traveling to Columbia using a false passport to travel with with his brother Niall Connolly and two other Irish republicans who were later dubbed ‘the Columbia Three’. Connolly denied he had traveled to Colombia using a false passport and said he was the victim of a campaign of vilification which had ‘descended to a more vicious level’ since his appointment to the position of executive director of the Centre for Public Inquiry (CPI)’. In 2009, he was appointed as Head of Communications at SIPTU.

- Terry Moore, sister of singer Christy Moore, joined Sinn Fein in the mid 1980s. She became heavily involved in the SF Education Dept, working with Rose Dugdale and Jim Monaghan. In 1989, she ran unsuccessfully for the party in the European Elections in the Leinster constituency. She later left the organisation.

- Sean Murphy, who was involved in the printing co-op at the DRC, also joined Sinn Fein at the same time as Terry Moore. He, along with others, tried to ‘start a publishing co-op to reprint classic republican texts, but it never got any further than producing a run of postcards’ according to Philip Ferguson. He left Sinn Fein after being active for around three years.

- Jimmy Brown from Belfast was active with the Officials and then the IRSP. He was a member of the INLA but split away in 1986 helping to form the Irish People’s Liberation Organisation (IPLO). He was shot dead in an internal feud in August 1992. In October of that year, the Provisional IRA mounted an operation to wipe out the IPLO in an event that was later dubbed the ‘Night of the Long Knives’ by locals in Belfast.

- There is no public information available about RS associate Michael Cunningham. Nor the other person named as ‘Tom’ in newspaper reports.

[Thanks to Brian Hanley and Conor McCabe for information. Note: I was anxious to only include information that already is in the public domain. If anyone has any issues with this piece, please get in touch.]

All of the following posters are from the Dutch International Institute of Social History (IISH) website.

They are related to the international defence campaign to save the Murrays from death penalty in the late 1970s. Noel and Marie Murray, former members of Official Sinn Fein, were sentenced to death in June 1976 for the killing of an off-duty Garda during a bank raid as part of a group called the armed ‘anarchist’ group.

From Cedar Lounge Revolution:

Noel Murray had been a member of Sinn Féin from 1966 and had gone with Official Sinn Féin in 1970. Marie Murray had been active in the Housing Action Committee in Dublin in 1969 from which she had joined OSF the following year. Both had left OSF in 1973 but remained politically active…

On appeal and retrial they were convicted of murder and received the lesser sentence of life imprisonment.

Posters from the Irish campaign:

Irish campaign poster, 1976

‘Murray Defence Committee’ poster , 1976

‘Murray Defence Committee’, 1976

‘Murray Defence Committee’ poster, September 1976

‘Murrays Campaign for Conjugal Rights in Irish Prisons’, c. 1976

Posters from the English campaign:

Poster from the English campaign, 1976

Murrays support gig in London, 1977

Posters from the mainland European campaign:

Poster from Dutch campaign, 1976.

Another poster from the Dutch campaign, 1976

Poster from the German campaign, 1976

Paul Cleary – Dublin City Town (1986). 7″ single cover.

The Blades are set to play together for the first time in 27 years on Friday, 13th December in the Olympia Theatre. Tickets, €26 including booking fee, go on sale next Friday 4th October at 9am via Ticketmaster.

So it is as good an opportunity as any to post the lyrics and audio from lead singer Paul Cleary’s 1986 solo single ‘Dublin City Town’. It was released on ‘Raytown Records’ (I assume this was Cleary himself?) just after the break up of the band.

The song deals with wealth inequality, the gombeen political class, the developers destruction of city architecture, youth employment, emigration and alcoholism. All with a catchy melody.

The rich get richer the poor get lost
They’re given coloured sweets
to sample at no cost.
But we can change things
if we’re not afraid
of careerist politicians overpaid.

We’ve still got a sense of humour
poverty is an ugly rumour
The planners try to pull it down
Dublin City Town
This ship is sinking
but we won’t drown
here in Dublin City Town.

Don’t hang your head down
or feel ashamed
’cause if you haven’t got a
job you’re not to blame.
And how many young girls
just out of school
Are forced to taking a slow boat
boat to Liverpool.
We’ve a liquid black solution
For a dodgy constitution
The planners try to pull it down
Dublin City Town
This ship is sinking
but we won’t drown
here in Dublin City Town.

You can’t put a million people down
come with me to Dublin
Some people try to drag us down
Dublin City town
This ship is sinking
but we won’t drown
here in Dublin City Town.

(Note: the lyrics on the back of the 7″ single are a bit over the place with a couple of key lines missing and the two verses printed in the wrong order)

The b-side was a live recording of ‘Revelations of Heartbreak’ recorded in Mountjoy Prison.

We’ve covered The Blades several times before on this blog:
- Still sounding sharp, looking back at The Blades (March 2012)
- The Blades Live (December 2011)
- The Blades singles (September 2011)
- os Blades? (June 2011)
- The Bride Wore White video (January 2011)
- Hot For You single (March 2010)
- Revelations (Of 45s) (February 2010)

Here is a very interesting account from the summer of 1982 of fifteen men and women from the gay community who visited a total of eight pubs in Dublin city centre and recorded their experiences.

Credit: Gay Pride Week 1982. NGF Newsletter, July 1982. Report of GPW Pub Zap, unattributed (probably Bill Foley or Liam Whitelaw).

I found it on the excellent Irish Queer Archive facebook page.

The eight pubs visited were The Viking, The Oak Tree, The Grannery (sic), The Clarence Hotel,  The Lord Edward, The Castle Inn, Rices and Fives.

I thought it would be interesting to collate the experiences  of the group in each pub and find out whether that particular establishment is still open 31 years later.

1. The Viking, 75 Dame Street.

Some of the group were allowed in, others were not. This did not seem to have been directly to with sexual orientation but apparently due to the fact that three of the women had gotten into an argument with the barman the previous evening. We have previously about how written how The Viking has been described as the first bar in the city to be owned by a gay proprietor and to be opened specifically as a gay bar.

Today it is known as Brogans.

2. The Oak Tree, 81 Dame Street

The group were served here without any issues but left after a few drinks as it was too noisy. A couple of older gay men have mentioned online (see here and here) that this bar was gay-friendly in the 1980s.

Today it is known simply as The Oak

3. The Granary, 35-37 East Essex Street

Though quickly becoming “the largest and most conspicuous” group and “loudly discuss(ing) gay politics”, the service was “friendly and efficient”.

Today it is known as Bad Bob’s, before that it was called The Purty Kitchen.

4. The Clarence Hotel, 6-8 Wellington Quay (with an entrance on East Essex Street)

The group was refused service here being told by a bouncer that “this is not your kind of place”.

Today is still The Clarence. It was taken over by Bono, the Edge and Harry Crosby in 1992.

5. The Lord Edward, 23 Christchurch Place

Ushered upstairs where “there would be no room”, the group (who were wearing Pink Triangle badges) were then threatened that the police would be called. Presumably if they didn’t leave.

Today it is still known as The Lord Edward.

6. The Castle Inn, 5-7 Lord Edward Street

Fairly empty on arrival, the group were all served here though “not without a little resentment”. Three women left the pub when the gay group sat down in a table beside them.

Today it is known as The Bull & Castle.

7. Rice’s, 141 Stephens Green/1 South King Street

It was mentioned in the piece that a smaller group had tried to have a drink in Rices but were refused.

This is quite interesting as Rice’s has been widely described as being gay-friendly from as early as the 1960s to mid 1980s when it was demolished to make way for the Stephens Green Shopping Centre.

Letter to Irish Times re: knocking down of Rices. 28 Jan 1986

8. Fives, 55 Dame Street

A smaller number of the group were also refused here earlier in the evening.

After much searching, I cannot find anymore information about a pub in Dublin in the early 1980s called ‘Fives’.

(Edit: Facebook commenters Tommy Doran and Vince Donnelly have helped solve the mystery. Fives was the name of a indie club on Dame Street. It later became The Underground. It is now Club Lapello, “Dublin’s longest established Lapdancing club”)

Introduction

As for most of us, being gay in those days was a very lonely experience. There weren’t many opportunities to meet gay people, unless you knew of the one bar – two bars, actually, in Dublin at that time, Bartley Dunne’s and Rice’s … They were the two pubs and if you hadn’t met gay people, you wouldn’t have known about these pubs; there was no advertising in those days, and it was all through word-of mouth.

So the life of a gay man in Dublin in the early 1970s was summed up by one contributor to Coming out: Irish gay experiences (2003). Rice’s and Bartley Dunne’s first emerged as gay-friendly pubs in the early 1960s. Some believe that it might have been as early as the late 1950s and I would love to be able to prove this if anyone has any supportive evidence.

Rice’s, South King Street. early 1980s. Dublin Insight Guide (1989)

There are no traces left of either establishment. Rice’s, at the corner of Stephen’s Green and South King Street, was demolished in 1986 to make way for the Stephen’s Green Shopping Centre. While Bartley Dunne’s, on Stephen’s Street Lower beside the Mercer Hospital, was torn down in 1990 and replaced with ‘Break for the Border’.

On a side note, some people may be surprised to hear that gay taverns in England date back to the 1720s (Molly houses) while more ‘modern’ establishments like Café ‘t Mandje in Amsterdam have been open since 1927.

Many in both the gay and straight community have described Rice’s and Bartley Dunne’s as deserving the title of being the city’s first gay friendly pubs. Why these two particular pubs though?

Most people point to the fact that both were in close proximity to the Gaiety Theatre and St. Stephen’s Green which at the time was a popular gay cruising area. It should also be acknowledged that the publicans from both establishments would have had to have been more progressive/accommodating in their views than the vast majority of other establishments in the city.

George Fullerton, who emigrated to London in 1968, was quoted in Dermot Ferritier’s 2009 book Occasions of Sin: Sex and Society in Modern Ireland as saying that:

In 1960s Dublin the [gay] scene basically consisted of 2 pubs – Rice’s and Bartley Dunne’s. I never experienced discrimination as such, probably because we were largely invisible.

Paul Candon in Gay Community News (February 1996) labeled Bartley Dunne’s as ‘the first gay pub as we know it in the city’ and also referenced Rice’s. He said there was a total of five regular gay-friendly bars to choose from in the 1960s in the immediate Stephens Green/Grafton Street area. The other three being Kings (opposite the Gaiety) and The Bailey and Davy Byrnes, both on Duke Street.

Kevin Myers wrote in The Irish Times (18 May 1995) of his student days in UCD in the late 1960s and how he discovered that ‘Rice’s … (was) in part a gay bar … Bartley Dunne’s was another‘. Furthermore Bartley Dunne’s was described as ‘the most famous and oldest gay bar in Dublin’ by Victoria Freedman in The cities of David: the life of David Norris (1995).

Bartley Dunne’s in 1985. Credit – blogtrotta80s.blogspot.com

One contributor to Coming out: Irish gay experiences (2003) talks about coming up to Dublin in the late 1970s from the country whenever he could and spending ‘vast amounts of time in Rice’s, Bartley Dunne’s and the Hirschfield Centre‘. Patrick Hennessy made a similar comment on an Irish Times article about the death of early LGBT campaigner in Christopher Robson in March of this year:

Yes farewell to one who fought the good fight back in the days when young and not so young men would come round to the Hirschfeld Centre nervously asking for info. Or sitting in circles exchanging their first tentative views in public about being gay. And then a few weeks later you might see one or two of them sipping a drink in a corner of Bartley Dunne’s or Bobby Rice’s.

It’s hard to corroborate (as only snippets are available on Google Books) but it looks like the 1958 ‘Fielding’s Travel Guide to Europe’ described ‘the historic Bailey, entirely reconstructed’ as being full of ‘hippie types and Gay Boys’. It goes onto say that like Davy Byrne’s, neither pub would be ‘recommended for the “straight” traveler’. Surely if true this language is very deliberate? Though I have a feeling this review may have come from a later edition and Google Books muddled things up.

Bartley Dunne’s on Stephens Street Lower.

In 1940, Hayden’s pub (‘a well known seven-day licensed premises‘) on Stephen’s Street Lower was put on the market after the owner James Bernard Hayden declared bankruptcy. In a related series of events, it was reported in the Irish Press (26 September 1940) that the Gardai had objected to renewing the pub’s licence on the grounds that the premises was not being conducted ‘in a peaceful and orderly manner’. It had only closed one day the previous year.

The licence was taken over in August 1941 by Bartholomew ‘Bartley’ Dunne. A native Irish speaker from the West of Ireland, Bartley Dunne Sr. returned to Dublin after nearly forty years of living and working in Manchester. Hugh Delargy M.P. wrote in the Irish Press (16 March 1946) that while in the city Bartley Sr. was:

prominent in the United Irish League, the Gaelic League and the old Sarsfield Terrace. (He knew) Dan Boyle, John Dulanty, who is now the High Commissioner in London; Sir Daniel McCabe, who became Lord Mayor of Manchester, and Tom Cassidy, a great patriot, whose son is now one of the senior aldermen in the city.

Bartley Sr. ran the pub until his death in 1960. It was then taken over by his two sons – Bartley Jr. (known as Barry) and Gerard (known as Gerry). They redecorated the place and built up its reputation for stocking exotic drinks from all over the world. Barry later recalled to The Irish Times (7 Sep ’85) that ‘there was a time when, if a customer wanted a particular drink and we didn’t have it in stock, he got something else for free’.

Letter from Bartley Dunne to Irish Independent (27 Aug 1959)

It would seem that Bartley Dunne’s (known to many as BD’s), which had already been attracting Dublin’s avant garde and theatre crowd, started to become gay-friendly (by word of mouth) in the early 1960s.  David Norris has written about visiting the pub as a schoolboy in his late teens in circa 1961/62:

Towards the end of my schooldays I started to explore a little. I had a kindred spirit in school and we occasionally visited a city centre bar called Bartley Dunne’s which was a notorious haunt of the homosexual demi-monde. It was an Aladdin’s cave to me, its wicker-clad Chianti bottles stiff with dribbled candlewax, tea chests covered in red and white chequered cloths, heavy scarlet velvet drapes and an immense collection of multi-coloured liqueurs glinting away in their bottles.

The place was (full) of theatrical old queens, with the barmen clad in bum-freezer uniforms. While not being gay themselves, as far as I know, the Dunne brothers were quite theatrical in their own way. Barry would hand out little cards, bearing the legend ‘Bartley Dunne’s, reminiscent of a left bank bistro, haunt of aristocrats, poets and artists’. Whatever about that, Saturday night certainly resembled an amateur opera in full swing. There only ever seemed to be two records played over the sound system: ‘Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien’ by Edith Piaf, and Ray Charle’s ‘Take These Chains From My Heart’.

Brian Lacey in his excellent ‘Terrible Queer Creatures: A History of Homosexuality in Ireland’  (2008) noted that among the many characters that frequented the bar was the then virtually unknown Norman Scott, whose 1960s affair with Jeremy Thorpe (later to become leader of the British Liberal Party) forced him to resign from the party in 1976. Scott lived in a flat near Leinster Road while in Dublin. Ulick O’Connor mentioned in his diaries that Scott also had a long relationship with an unidentified person prominent in an Irish political party.

We take it for the granted the range of drinks available in Dublin bars today but Bartley Dunne’s was really a trial blazer. It offered saki, tequila and ouzo before any other place in the city. Mary Frances Kennedy writing in The Irish Times (15 July 1960) was amazed at the range of wines available in Bartley Dunne’s including Bull’s Blood of Eger (11s 6d a bottle); Balatoni Reisling (10s a bottle); Tokak Aszu (19s 6d a bottle) and Samos Muscatel (11 6d a bottle).

In January 1964, an escaped inmate from Parkhurst Prison on the Isle of Wight was found in Bartley Dunne’s two days after the jailbreak. William Joseph O’Brien (39), originally from Waterford, broke into the pub and stole cash and cigarettes amounting to £60. The Irish Times (18 January) noted that Barry heard a noise downstairs in the bar and managed to climb out of a window and down a drain pipe to notify the Gardai. O’Brien, with thirteen previous convictions, was sentenced to nine months imprisonment for the break in. He was already serving an eight year sentence.

Bartley Dunne’s, 1980s. Credit – ‘Bartley Dunnes Reunion’ Facebook

It was noted in The Irish Times (22 March 1967) that Moscow journalist Lev Sedin, who has visited Dublin a number of times, had recently published a book on Ireland that dealt with politics and economics as well as more ‘frivolous subjects’. One of these was a lyrical poem about Bartley Dunne’s and his experience there of being consulted on the correct pronunciation of the Russian wines in stock. Sedin recommended the pub to anyone in Europe ‘who wished to imbibe true culture’.

A writer called Endymion in a 1968 Dublin guide book described Bartley Dunne’s as the city’s ‘most unusual pub’. It’s clientele was an ‘an odd mixture of bohemians and down-to-earth Dubliners (that) creates an atmosphere which would have interested James Joyce.’

Advertisement for Bartley Dunne’s, 1969. Credit – Cedar Lounge Revolution

It was described by Roy Bulson in ‘Irish Pubs Of Character’ (1969) as:

one of Dublin’s most unusual pubs with its Continental atmosphere. Well worth a visit to mix with a variety of characters. Ask for the wine list which is one of the most reasonably priced and extensive in Dublin.

Bartley Dunne’s had a ‘French bistro ambience’ with prints on the walls by Cezanne, Monet and Picasso as well as Partisan theatre posters and photographs of film stars. It was also famous for its dimly lit nooks and crannies. Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton drank there regularly in 1965 during the filming of the ‘The Spy Who Came in from the Cold’. As did other actors like Kim Novak, Laurence Harvery, Noel Howard as well as local characters like Brendan Behan (who seemingly drank in every pub in Dublin!).

The pub had a reputation for all sorts of madness. A massive bar fight took place sometime in the late 1980s after someone objected to a biker driving his motorbike into the pub and asking for a pint. On another note, my uncle John told me it was the first pub in Dublin that he ever saw someone shooting up heroin in the toilets. A friend Ado also has a story (as I’m sure many others have) of being served his first pint there while still in his school uniform!

Snaps of Bartley Dunnes, late 1980s. Credit – ‘Bartley Dunnes Reunion’ Facebook

Younger brother Gerry passed away in 1981. Barry continued to run the place up until 1985 when the family put the pub on the market. It was bought by three Irish businessmen based in the U.S.

From c. 1985 to its last days in 1990, the pub became the defacto HQ for Dublin’s goth, curehead and alternative metal scene. Drug-dealing also became more open and without the Dunne family behind the bar, things seemed to have got even more wilder.

The pub was sold in July 1990, for a record-breaking £1.7m. It was knocked down and replaced by a super-pub called ‘Break for the Border’ which is still there today.

Rice’s at the corner of Stephen’s Green and South King Street

While Bartley Dunne’s stood out as an alternative bar with an avant-garde clientele early on, Rice’s was an unassuming traditional Dublin boozer. There was a pub on this site from at least the 1850s until the middle of the 1980s.  Formally called Eamon Nolans (late 1950s), The Four Provinces (mid 1950s) and The Grafton Bar (1940s),  it was taken over by publican Robert ‘Bobby’ Rice in 1960.

Eamon Nolans pub, 1950s. Renamed Rices in 1960. Credit – Dublinforum.net

I believe it became gay-friendly from this point onwards. The gay ‘area’ of the bar was confined to the section inside the Stephen’s Green entrance. Tony O’Connell, who started visiting the place in 1965, remembers that if owner ‘Bobby was on duty and a non-gay couple came into that bar he would usher them into the back lounge, lest they be contaminated’. So while Bartley Dunne’s was a mixed pub, the gay community were sectioned off in the front bar of Rice’s.

Ireland’s most famous and accepted gay couple Hilton Edwards and Micheál Mac Liammóir (founders of the Gate Theatre) drank in Rice’s as did another famous Irish stage actor, Patrick Bedford.

Advertisement for Rice’s. Trinity News (13 May 1965)

Bobby, who was married and had an adopted son, was known to be very camp. His brother Pat worked in the pub as a barman and was seemingly very liked by the gay community. The pub was also extremely popular with students from the nearby Royal College of Surgeons.

Top of Grafton Street with Rice’s in background. Credit – Where Were You?

Former patrons Anthony Redmond and Frank Meier wrote to The Irish Times in January 1986 to lament the closing and the tearing down of the pub. They described as Rice’s as having:

great warmth, character and charm and there was nothing garish, brash or kitsch about its decor. If it was a quiet drink or serious conversation you wanted, with the cacophony of raucous music, Rice’s was the place to go to … In the summer Rice’s pub always looked truly beautiful with baskets of geraniums hanging over the windows outside. It was wonderful to drop in for a quiet drink after a peaceful few hours in Stephen’s Green. The staff was always pleasant, especially Billy whose wit and banter was greatly enjoyed by habitutes like myself.

The Rice family later went on to open The Village Cafe in Rathmines.

Conclusion

From all accounts, the heyday of Rice’s and Bartley Dunne’s was in the 1960s when they were the only shows in town so to speak. They provided a very important early social space for gay men in the capital. Street harassment from the police or drunk revelers was almost non existent during these years.

The 1970s saw the establishment of Ireland’s first gay rights organisations and discos. The Irish Gay Rights Movement (IGRM) was founded in 1974 and the first gay disco soon followed over a health food store called Green Acres in Great Strand Street with DJ Hugo Mac Manus. In 1979, the Hirschfeld Centre opened in Temple Bar as a gay community centre and began running a disco on the weekend called Flikkers (Dutch word for ‘Faggot’).

Mark, who was on the scene in the early 1980s, told me:

The community centre was the first full-time gay and lesbian venue in Ireland. It housed a meeting space, a youth group, a café, a small cinema and film club and it ran discos at the weekend where lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered (LGBT) people socialised. It really was amazing and as a lonely lost 18 year old, having this place as a free club where I felt I belonged was essential.

1979 was the same year that The Viking bar on Dame Street opened its doors. Tony O’Connell remembers that this was an important ‘stopping point on the “pilgrimage” between Rice’s and Dunne’s’. Other popular gay-friendly bars in the 1970s/early 1980s included The Pygmalion (now Hairy Lemon), The South William (now Metro Cafe), The Parliament Inn (now Turk’s Head), The Oak on Dame Street, The Foggy Dew on Dame Street and The Pembroke (now Matt the Thresher) on Pembroke Street. Women-only lesbian nights were held upstairs at the weekend in JJ Smyths on Aungier Street in the early 1980s. Davy Byrnes and The Bailey (Saturday mornings only) still remained popular.

Dublin’s oldest-running gay bar The George opened on South Great George’s Street in 1985 and so the next chapter of Dublin’s gay social life begins.

Though Rice’s and particularly Bartley Dunne’s did remain popular (as far as I can work out) with the gay community in the 1970s and 1980s. One blogger (‘eskerriada‘) described Bartley Dunne’s in the 1980s as having ‘a weird mix of rockers, punks, bikers, students and middle aged gay men’. Though it was widely known that the two places were gay-friendly, both owners rarely liked the attention.

The Sunday Independent, 11 May 1975

In the above piece from 1975, one proprietor (later to revealed as Barry Dunne) said:

It is known that a certain number of these people come in every now and again. Most people regard it as a bit of a laugh … This is a public house and people have certain rights

Ten years later when the pub was being sold by the family, Barry hadn’t really changed his tune, telling journalist Frank MacDonald in The Irish Times (7 September 1985) that the pub did attract a ‘few who were that way inclined but it was really nothing like the rumours’.

You wonder whether Barry Dunne has today, twenty eight years later, come to terms with the fact that his pub attracted a large amount of gay people and that it played a very important part in the social history of the community. You’d also hope that what he said to newspaper journalists (in a time when same-sex sexual activity was still criminalised) differed from his real-life views.

While both pubs were extremely different places, some key dates overlapped. Bobby Rice took over Nolans in 1960, the same year that the Dunne brothers took over the pub from their Dad. The Dunne family sold their pub in 1985 while Rice’s was demolished the following year. (Though Bartley Dunne’s was open, under new management, until 1990).

Both pubs played an integral role in the development of Dublin’s gay social scene (and as a result probably gay politics) and should be remembered.

If you have any memories, anecdotes, pictures or any related information about Rice’s or Bartley Dunne’s -  please leave a comment or get in contact via email.

(Thanks to Tony O’Connell, Mark Irish Pluto, Mark Jenkins, John Geraghty and others for helping with this piece)

It may be just me but I think it’s cheeky beyond belief that the people behind Bad Bobs 2.0 in Temple Bar have recently proclaimed a part (!) of their pub as ‘Temple Bar’s Oldest Pub’. With a lick of paint and some Ye Olde knickknacks in the window, they hope to fool and no doubt pull in some of that Yankee dollar.

I took this picture during the week of the ‘The Snug Temple Bar’:

‘Temple Bar Snug’, October 2013. Credit – Carax

As you can see, they got a painter to recreate an old-style Dublin boozer sign above the door. For added measure, they even have the ‘Licensed To Sell Tobacco, Ales, Stouts & Spirits’ blurb. To make it even more of a joke, you can’t get into the ‘The Snug, Temple Bar’ without going through the main Bad Bobs entrance!

‘Temple Bar Snug’, October 2013. Credit – Carax.

But as we know, before it reopened as Bad Bobs in March 2013, the Purty Kitchen was just another bland, crappy tourist trap. Nothing historic about it whatsoever. It’s been through countless name changes and been sold and bought by various business groups over the decades.

This is what it looked like exactly a year ago. The part of the pub on the on left hand side (beside the two people) is now the self-proclaimed oldest pub in Temple Bar. What difference a year makes.

The Purty Kitchen, October 2012. Credit – William Murphy (Infomatique)

The premises, situated between 34 and 37 East Essex Street, has been known as Nugents (1960s), The Granary (late 1970s) and Bad Bobs (1984-2006). It was bought in 2006 for a whopping €12 million by Conor Martin, a publican who owned The Purty Kitchen in Dun Laoghaire. At the time, it was the property of Liam and Des O’Dwyer of the Capital Bars group who are behind Cafe en Seine, the Dragon, the George, Break for the Border and a number of hotels. It was renamed Bad Bobs in March of this year.

There’s no denying that the address is historic. An Irish Times article from 8 November 2006 stated that there has been a pub on the premises since 1728. But during that time there has been numerous name changes, auctions and buy outs. There’s no doubt that interior as been gutted and renovated three or four times at least.

Finally, where on earth did they pull that 1694 number from?

In the early half of the twentieth century, there were roughly 3,700 Jews living in Ireland. This represented about 0.12% of the total population. Though their numbers were minuscule, members of the the Jewish community were disproportionately active in the fight for Irish independence. Melisande Zlotover in his 1966 memoir ‘Zlotover story: A Dublin story with a difference’ assessed the overall situation by writing that Dublin’s Jews “were most sympathetic [to the fight for Independence] and many helped in the cause”.

These included:

Michael Noyk (1884–1966) Jewish Dublin-born republican activist and lawyer who most famously defended republican prisoners during the War of Independence and afterwards. In the 1917 Clare East by-election he was a prominent worker for Eamon de Valera and in the 1918 general election was election agent for Countess Markievicz and Seán T. O’Kelly. He was later involved in renting houses and offices for all the ministries established under the first Dáil. During the War of Independence he regularly met Michael Collins in Devlin’s pub on Parnell Square and helped to run the republican courts. In 1921 he was to the fore in defending many leading members of the IRA, including Gen. Seán Mac Eoin and Capt. Patrick Moran, the latter of which was executed for complicity in the shooting of British intelligence officers.

While Arthur Griffith’s early anti-Semitic comments (c.1904) are frequently recalled, it should be noted that he was an extremely close friend of Noyk’s from 1910 onwards and he remained Griffith’s solicitor until his death in 1922. So close did Griffith’s relationship with Noyk become that his own daughter would act as a flower girl at Noyk’s wedding as Manus O’Riordan reminded us in an excellent 2008 article.

In later years, Noyk became a founder-member of the Association of Old Dublin Brigade (IRA) and a member of the Kilmainham Jail Restoration Committee. Keenly interested in sport, he played soccer in his youth for a team based around Adelaide Road and was for many years the solicitor to Shamrock Rovers. He died on 23 October 1966 at Lewisham Hospital in London. A huge crowd, including the then taoiseach, Seán Lemass, attended his funeral and the surviving members of the Dublin Brigade rendered full military honours at his graveside. He is buried in Dolphin’s Barn cemetery.

Noyk is honoured with portrait. The Irish Times, 06 Apr 1960.

Robert Emmet Briscoe (1894–1969) was a Jewish Dublin-born republican and businessman who most famously ran guns for the IRA during the War of Independence. Named after revolutionary leader Robert Emmet, his father, a steadfast Parnellite called another son Wolfe Tone Briscoe.  Politicised after the Easter Rising, he attended meetings of Clan na Gael in the United States, meeting Liam Mellows, who influenced his return to Ireland (August 1917) to join the headquarters staff of Na Fianna Éireann. The clothing factory that Robert Briscoe opened at 9 Aston Quay, and a subsequent second workshop in Coppinger’s Row, both served as headquarters for clandestine Fianna and IRA activities before and during the War of Independence. Unknown to government authorities owing to his lack of prior political involvement, Briscoe engaged in arms-and-ammunition procurement and transport, and gathering of intelligence. Transferred to IRA headquarters staff (February 1920), he was dispatched by Michael Collins to Germany, where, with his knowledge of the language and country, he established and oversaw a network of arms purchase and transport. He maintained a steady flow of matériel after the July 1921 truce, and from 1922 to the anti-treaty IRA, with which he maintained links for some years after the civil war. Returning to Ireland after the 1924 general amnesty, he managed Dublin operations of Briscoe Importing, a firm already established by two of his brothers.

During the summer of 1926 the IRA raided the offices and homes of moneylenders in both Dublin and Limerick. Manus O’Riordan wrote that:

Those who were raided were indeed predominantly Jewish, but the IRA explicitly stated that their attack was on moneylending itself, “not on Jewry”.

Historian Brian Hanley summed up the situation well when he said that the IRA:

…were supported in their claims by the prominent Jewish politician in Ireland, Robert Briscoe of de Valera’s Fianna Fáil Party. He argued that he did not see the raids as anti-Semitic, and wished it to be known that he and ‘many other members of the Jewish community’ abhorred moneylending and expressed his admiration for the IRA’s attempts to end ‘this rotten trade’.

A founding member of Fianna Fáil (1926), he served on its first executive committee, and worked on constructing the party’s national constituency organisation, transporting party workers countrywide in his recently purchased motor car. Defeated in the June 1927 general election and in an August 1927 by-election occasioned by the death of Constance Markievicz, in the September 1927 general election he was elected to Dáil Éireann, becoming the first Jewish TD, and commencing an unbroken tenure of thirty-eight years, representing Dublin South (1927–48) and Dublin South-West (1948–65). Twice lord mayor of Dublin (1956–7, 1961–2), he made a spectacularly successful whistle-stop tour of the USA (1957) – the first of several official visits, trade missions, and speaking tours – lauded by Irish- and Jewish-Americans as Dublin’s first Jewish lord mayor.

JFK meeting with IRA veteran Robert Briscoe, Lord Mayor of Dublin. 26 March 1962. Credit – jfklibrary.org.

Estella Solomons (1882–1968), who hailed from one of the longest established Jewish families in Dublin, was a celebrated artist who served in the women’s republican auxiliary movement Cumann na mBan (Rathmines branch). One of her first jobs was distributing arms and ammunition which she kept hidden under the vegetable patch at the family home on Waterloo Road. When her sister visited from London with her British Army husband,, Estella stole his uniform and passed it onto the IRA. Solomons sheltered IRA fugitives in her studio during the War of Independence, and concealed weapons under the pretence of gardening. Estella’s IRA contact was a milk delivery man, who acted as a perfect cover for moving arms and gathering information. She persuaded him to teach her to shoot, in exchange she painted a portrait of his wife. Taking the anti-Treaty side and sheltering Republicans during the Civil War, her studio was often raided by Free State troops.

Solomons was elected an associate of the Royal Hibernian Academy (RHA) in July 1925, but it was not until 1966 that Solomons was elected an honorary member. Her work was included in the Academy’s annual members’ exhibition every year for sixty years. As her parents were opposed to her marrying outside her faith, it was not until August 1925, when she was 43 and her husband 46, that she married Seumas O’Sullivan, the editor and founder of the influential literary publication Dublin Magazine.

Estelle Sollomons, self-portrait, 1926. Credit – mutualart.com.

Gerald Yael Goldberg (1912–2003), Cork-born solicitor, politician and writer, retained vivid childhood memories of the War of Independence and Civil War period, including the burning of central Cork by crown forces (during which his family had to leave their home temporarily). He attended the lyings‐in‐state of Tomàs MacCurtain and Terence MacSwiney both of whom he always revered. In later life he commissioned portraits of MacCurtain and MacSwiney for the City Hall while he was Lord Mayor. Goldberg also acquired a long-lasting respect for fellow Corkman Michael Collins after hearing him speak at a public meeting.

The Goldbergs moved to Cork after the anti‐Semitic Limerick riots, and subsequent boycott, of 1904, in which Gerald’s father Louis was assaulted. In secondary school, he and his brother got into trouble after they applied to be excused from Armistice Day (as a German pupil was excused) because the British had murdered MacCurtain and MacSwiney. In the 1930s Goldberg established a committee in Cork to help Jewish refugees from Nazi persecution; in later life he spoke bitterly of the refusal of the state to admit such refugees, and recalled how a German Jew who deserted a ship at Cobh was sent back to the concentration camps despite the Cork community’s willingness to assist him. A successful solicitor,  he was elected president of the Cork Hebrew Congregation in 1943, and remained the public face of Cork Jewry until his death.

Goldberg was elected to Cork corporation as an independent alderman for the north‐west ward in 1967 but joined Fianna Fáil in 1970, stating that it was impossible for an isolated councillor to achieve anything on the corporation. In 1977, he was elected lord mayor of Cork, the first Jew to hold this office. During his term he researched the history of the civic regalia, including the mayoral chain (he published a pamphlet on its connection with Terence MacSwiney) and the mace (leading him to make a public appeal for the British Museum to return to Cork several former Cork maces it had acquired over the years). In 1982 he openly considered leaving Ireland after he received death threats and after a fire‐bomb attack on the Cork synagogue, which were linked to hostile relations between Irish peacekeeping forces in South Lebanon and Israeli and Israeli‐backed forces.  He retired from Cork corporation in 1985. He died, at the age of 91, in Cork, on 31 December 2003, and received a civic funeral on 4 January 2004 to the Cork Jewish graveyard at Curraghkippane. Cork corporation members wore skullcaps in his honour.

Francis Rebecca ‘Fanny’ Goldberg (1893-?) and Molly Goldberg (1896-), sisters of Gerald, were active with Cuman na mBan. Dermot Keogh in his book ‘Jews In Twentieth Century Ireland’ (1998) mentions this fact but unfortunately no further information seems to be available about their activities.

Abraham Spiro (1880 – 1951), who moved to Dublin from Lithuania at the age of two was manager of the Pearl Printing Company in Drury Street. The IRA newspaper An t-Olgach was printer by Spiro during the early 1920s and he employed Oscar Traynor (Commanding Officer of the Dublin I.R.A.) as a compositor. Natalie Wynn in her essay ‘Jews, Antisemitism and Irish Politics : A Tale of Two Narrative’ suggests that the paper was printed by Leon Spiro (Abraham’s broher?) but only after he had been “forcibly detained” in his office. This information was gleaned from a unpublished memoir written by Leon’s daughter.

Cohen brothers
George White, member of ‘C’ Company 3rd Battalion Dublin Brigade IRA from 1917 and later Quartermaster Active Service Unit from 1921, recalled in his Witness Statement (no. 956) that a Jewish man by the name of Max Cohen lived in a house that was being used an arms dump at 3 Swifts Row beside Ormond Quay in Dublin city centre. Max “knew all about the dump but said nothing about it” to the authorities. His brother Abraham, who ran an antique shop at 20 Ormond Quay, told White and another IRA member that they could use his shop anytime “as a means of escape”.

M. Cohen & Sons antiques shop. Perhaps the one mentioned in the Witness Statement. Photograph taken by Tom Kennedy. Scanned from ‘A Sense of Ireland’ programme.

Unidentified Jew who sheltered Dan Breen
In the Witness Statement (no. 723) of Dr. Alice Barry, a close friend of many IRA leaders, she mentions that Dan Breen was taken in by a Jewish person while on the run in Fernside, Drumcondra, North Dublin*. In October 1920, Breen, who had badly cut his legs while escaping from the Black and Tans, “wandered round looking for refuge” until he eventually found it in the home of a unnamed Jewish person who also “provided him with dry clothing”. (Unfortunately and somewhat ironically, Breen took a very strong pro-Axis side and had a portrait of Adolf Hitler hanging in his study until as late as 1948.)

*Thanks to Politics.ie posters for bringing my attention to the fact that the incident happened in Fernside, Drumcondra not Fernside, Killiney.

Unidentified Jewish families who supported Sinn Fein and the IRA
Mrs. Sean Beaumont, a member of executive of Cumann na mBan, recalled in her Witness Statement (no. 385) that trained nurses within the organisation set up a bureau at 6 Harcourt Street in October 1918 to help the general public during the flu pandemic. Among those nursed “were many” Jewish families who showed their gratitude by providing financial support for the Republican movement and voting for Sinn Fein candidates in the years ahead.

General references

There are several other more general references to the Jewish community in the recently digitised witness statements.

After taking part in the Easter Rising, Captain Sean Kavananagh (WS 1670) mentions that the soldier who told him that were about to be deported to England was a “Dublin Jew” called Lieutenant Barron.

Thomas Pugh of the Irish Volunteers recalled in his Witness Statement (397) that after taking part in the Easter Rising, he was brought to Portobello Barracks where the person in charge of taking personal belongings from the prisoners was:

a Jew whom I knew very well. He was one of the Barrons, the furniture people. I am sure he knew me well, because I saved him once from a beating in the football grounds in Inchicore.

Further afield, a Jewish cinema owner in New York apologised to local Irish Republicans after his cinema inadvertently showed a British propaganda film called ‘Whom the gods would destroy’ (1916). Sidney Czira (Secretary of Cumman na mBan, New York) wrote in her Witness Statement (no. 909) that the film portrayed Irish volunteers like they were of “half-ape type”. As a result, a group of Republicans visited the cinema and explained the situation to the Jewish owner. Czira wrote that he was “quite unaware of its significance … apologised … and withdrew it at once”.

Another side note is that the badly damaged Hotel Metropole on O’Connell Street was bought after the Rising by Jewish cinema owner Maurice Elliman who turned it into the successful Metropole cinema.

In the summer of 1919, a successful raid took place on the Rotunda which was being used at the time as the temporary General Post Office. A number of IRA men were involved in the action in which “very valuable and confidential documents” destined for Dublin Castle were seized. Afterwards, a number of sympathetic postman overheard a colleague say to someone that “I know the fella in charge of this raid”. He was referring to Oscar Traynor who he knew through playing football. The postman in question was described by Traynor (WS 340) as an “English Jew” who lived on the North Circular Road . This “cockney Jew” was visited by a number of IRA men and was told to keep his mouth shut or else. As a result of being threatened, he decided to move back to London.

That same year, a group of Tipperary IRA men seized a gun from a Jewish businessman who ran a skin and hide business at the back of Connolly Street in Nenagh. Volunteer Edward John Ryan (WS 1392) was approached by a comrade who was employed in the business. In the raid, both the volunteer (to make not look like an inside job) and his Jewish employer were tied up. No-one was harmed in the robbery.

In the statement of Mary Flannery Woods (no. 624) of Cumann na mBan, she mentions that she bought a safe house for Michael Collins on Harcourt Terrace in 1920 that was owned by a Jew called Mr. Cantor. Seamus O’Connor and not Michael Noyk was the solicitor involved. In this house, a special hidden cupboard was built for arms and ammunition.

Dr. Josephine Clarke (no. 699), member of Cumann na mBan, wrote that her and her husband Liam moved into an “unfurnished flat in a Jew’s house in Sydenham Road” in roughly the same period.

In July 1920 the IRA shot dead Unionist landowner Frank Brooke, the Chairman of the Dublin South Eastern Railways, inside his office at Westland Row train station. Brooke was a secret member of the British Military Advisory Council and was signaled out specifically by Michael Collin’s Squad. Laurence Nugent (Lieutenant ‘K’ Company, 3rd Battalion Dublin Brigade IRA) remarked in his Witness Statement (no. 907) that they had planned to shoot another director of the Railways but spared him after a Jewish woman ‘Miss Zigmen’ asked the IRA to spare his life. Zigmen, who lived on Upper Baggot Street, was a private cigarette manufacturer and the unnamed director was a customer of hers. (Note: ‘Zigman’ may have been incorrectly transcribed as ‘Zigmen’).

In November of that year, Lieutenant Peter Ashmun Ames and Captain George Bennett were shot dead by the IRA in their rooms at 38 Upper Mount Street. Jewish solicitor Michael Noyk (WS 707) took up the defence of two volunteers including Patrick Moran from Roscommon who were arrested in the aftermath. Moran strongly protested his innocence and had a solid alibi since he was at Mass in Blackrock at the time and was seen there by several people including a member of the Dublin Metropolitan Police. Among the witnesses that Noyk called in to help Moran’s case was Joseph Mirrelson, a Jewish Turf Accountant from Dun Laoghaire. He had seen Moran on a tram on the morning of the shooting. Mirrelson knew Moran well as he used to frequent a pub in Dun Laoghaire called Lynch & O’Brien’s pub that Moran used to work in. Despite the evidence laid out that proved Moran and another Volunteer Thomas Whelan were not in the area of the shooting, both were hanged in Mountjoy Jail in March 1921.

Joe Mirrelson, Turf Accountant, Ranelagh, 1979. I assume the business was taken over by a son or relation of Joseph. Credit – dublincitypubliclibraries.com

Negative references

As this was a time when both ignorant and deep-rooted anti-Semitism was more prevalent, this seeps through in a couple of Witness Statements.

Seamus MacManus, one of the founders of the National Council (pre Sinn Fein), said that most French newspapers in 1890s “were under the thumb of the Jews financially” in his Witness Statement (no. 283).

Richard Walsh talked about a pub down by the London docks that was run by a English Jew and his Irish catholic wife. A strong Irish republican, the wife would act as a messenger for the IRA and her herself and her husband allowed the pub to be used for preparing arms packages for shipment. Walsh makes an anti-Semitic off-the-cuff mark in his Witness Statement (no. 136) describing this publican as a “Jew … (that) like all his race was cute and well able to conceal his feelings”.

Not forgetting the disgusting anti-Semitic remarks from John Devoy (called De Valera “a half-breed Jew”), J. J. O’Kelly, W. J. Brennan-Whitmore and a small number of Irish republicans in this time period.

Conclusion

In a February 1944 heated Dail debate about pensions for veterans of the Easter Rising and War of Independence, the toxic, anti-Semitic TD Oliver J. Flanagan proclaimed:

We had not got the rancher, the capitalist, the financier or the Jew in the Old I.R.A. We had the plain, poor, honest people.

Flanagan had obviously overlooked (or decided to forget) the roles that Robert Briscoe, Michael Noyk, Estella Solomon, the Goldbergs and (possibly) Abraham Spiro played in the War of Independence. It is only coming to light now the small but important day-to-day roles that ordinary Jews played by sheltering volunteers like Dan Breen or offering their premises as a means of escape like the Cohen brothers.

Sadly the Jewish community has a whole were targeted in 1923 by two Republican veterans of the War of the Independence who launched their own personal indiscriminate anti-Semitic crusade – shooting four, killing two.

Manchester-born Jewish jeweller and father-of-four Bernard Goldberg (42) was shot dead in the early hours of October 31st 1923 outside his home at 95 St. Stephen’s Green after being questioned by three men.  His brother Samuel had a narrow escape. He was hit on the head but managed to run towards Cuffe Street, later discovering three bullet holes in his overcoat.

Two weeks later, a Dublin-born Jew Emmanuel ‘Ernest’ Kahn (24) of 36 Lennox Street who worked as a clerk at the Department of Agriculture, was gunned down on Stamer Street in Portobello on the evening of November 14th.  His friend David Miller (21), who lived at 25 Victoria Street, was shot in the shoulder but survived.

First hand account of the second murder. The Irish Times, 16 Nov 1923.

The principal instigators of these two murders were Free State Army officers – James Patrick Conroy and Fred Laffan – who held an anti-Semitic vendetta after a “lady friend” of Conroy’s was allegedly assaulted by a Jewish dentist. Laffan’s brother Ralph, a taxi driver, was also implicated in the murders.  James ‘Jimmy/Jim’ Conroy had a distinguished IRA career and was a member of Michael Collin’s squad.

The two Laffan brothers fled to Mexico while Conroy evaded justice (I believe he emigrated to the United States but returned to Ireland in the early 1930s). During a tetchy Dáil debate in February 1934, Sean MacEntee (Fianna Fáil Minister for Finance) accused Fine Gael TDs of knowing who killed Kahn and Goldberg saying “The man who committed these crimes, as I have already stated tonight, is a member of the Blue Shirt organisation at the present moment. He was allowed to go free even though those charged with the administration of the law at that time were well aware of the crimes he had committed”.

Postscript

Other Irish Jews became active in Irish left-wing and republican politics in the 1930s most notably Maurice Levitas and Harry Kernoff.

Communist ‘Morry’ Levitas who was born 8 Warren Street, Portobello, Dublin fought against Mosley’s Blackshirts during the Battle of Cable Street in London in 1936 and the following year joined the British battalion of the XV (International) Brigade to fight against Franco in Spain. First seeing action in the final days of the unsuccessful defence of Teruel, he was among the troops forced to retreat from Belchite on the second day of the massive fascist Aragon offensive (March 1938). After three weeks of costly engagements and repeated withdrawals, he was in a company (which also included IRA veteran Frank Ryan) that was captured by a Italian fascist unit at Calaceite (March 1938). His excellent entry in the Dictionary of Irish Biography describes his following 11 months of hell:

Imprisoned at San Pedro de Cardeña, near Burgos (April 1938–January 1939), in addition to interrogations, arbitrary beatings, and mock executions, he was subjected to the indignity of pseudo-scientific measurements by visiting German Gestapo agents testing Nazi theories regarding the physiognomy of Jews and ‘social deviants’. Transferred to San Sebastian prison (January–February 1939), he was among sixty-seven republicans released in a prisoner exchange sought by Mussolini. Soon after returning home to London, he visited Dublin to address a public meeting calling for the release of Ryan (27 February).

He later served in India and Burma with the Royal Army Medical Corps and then worked as a plumber, teacher and lecturer. In his later years Levitas renewed ties with his native Dublin, attending functions honouring the Irish who served in Sapin, and the unveiling of the statue of James Connolly in Beresford Place in 1996. He died 14 February 2001 in London. His brother Max Levitas, born in Dublin in 1915, was a Communist councillor in London borough of Stepney for twenty-five years and continues to be engaged in anti-Fascist activity.

Harry Kernoff, born in London in 1900, moved to Dublin at the age of 14. After winning the Taylor scholarship in 1923 he became a full-time day student, encouraged by established painters such as Seán Keating and Patrick Tuohy . He showed a particular interest in drawing Dublin, and was one of the few artists at work in the city whose work demonstrated a social conscience and awareness of the plight of the unemployed, as revealed in such paintings as ‘Dublin kitchen’ (1923). Strongly left-wing, he was a member of the Friends of Soviet Russia and his woodcuts were often used in republican and labour newspapers in the 1930s and 1940s.  He designed the masthead of the communist weekly the Irish Workers’ Voice, was part of a delegation to visit Leningrad and Moscow (1930) and was involved in anti-fascist campaigns in Dublin. One of his most famous woodcuts is the (below) 1936 one of James Connolly. Thirty-four years previously Connolly had issued an election leaflet written in the Yiddish language to the Jewish voters of Dublin’s ‘Little Jerusalem’. Kernoff lived at 1 Stamer Street, Portobello, in the heart of this area, for the last 40 years of his life. He passed away in 1974.

Harry Kernoff signed woodcut of James Connolly (1936). Credit – .icollector.com

References: Dictionary of Irish Biography (Noyk/Briscoe/Solomons/Levitas/Kernoff); Bureau of Military Witness Statements; Saorise Feb 2003 (Solomons); Natalie Wynn, ‘Jews, Antisemitism and Irish Politics : A Tale of Two Narrative’ (2012); Dermot Keogh ‘Jews In Twentieth Century Ireland (1998)’.

Since the publication of our article ‘Jewish community during the Revolutionary period (1916-23)‘, a number of people have left comments, emailed me directly or posted on external sites with new information and leads on the subject.

They are as follows:

1) 1901: Two Jewish workers listed as being active in James Connolly’s Irish Socialist Republican Party (ISRP).

2) 1908: Establishment of the short-lived Judaeo-Irish Home Rule Association.

3) 1919-1921: Philip Sayers (1876 – 1964) Jacob Elyan (1878- 1937) and Dr. Edward  ‘Eddie’ Lipman (1887-1965) as Sinn Fein supporters.

4) 1920: Death of Russian-born Jew Sarah Medalie at the hands of the Black and Tans in Cork.

5) 1924: Arrest of Polish Jew Idel Weingarten who later admitted to being a gunrunner for the Republican movement.

6) 1926:  Release of the film Irish Destiny which was written and produced by Dr. Isaac ‘Jack’ Eppel, a Jewish pharmacist.

7) Late 1920s/early 1930s: Involvement of Herman Good with the James Connolly Workers’ Clubs and the Irish Labour Defence League.

8) 1939: Arrest and imprisonment of Jewish IRA member Harry Goldberg in Liverpool.

9) late 1960s: Anecdotal evidence that many older working-class Jews in Dublin read the Manchester Guardian and the Moscow Times.

1.

Discovered in the Irish Socialist Republican Party (ISRP) minute book of 23 July 1901 and first publicised by Manus O’Riordan in a 1988 Saothar article – two Jewish workers living in Pleasant Street, Dublin 8 were active with this organisation. They were Abraham Volkes and an individual by the name of Barnet. O’Riordan also informed us that the pair had previously been involved with the Social-Democratic Federation (SDF) in Salford. This was the organisation that James Connolly spoke for during his two public speaking trips (1901 and 1902) to the city.

Members of the Irish Socialist Republican Party (ISRP) photographed in the Phoenix Park, May 1901. Credit – http://multitext.ucc.ie

Unfortunately, I cannot find anyone by the name of Barnet or Volkes living in Pleasant Street in 1901. Though they are a number of Jewish families including Greenfield, Abrahams, Werner and Goldstone. Only one person with the surname Volkes seems to be living in the city at that time and he was an American Catholic. Also, there is only one Barnet but he was a Catholic Dubliner. Perhaps Barnet was his first name? There is one Jewish individual with the first name Barnet but he was only a baby at the time. Volkes is a German name and there is one German Jew with the first name Abraham in Dublin in 1901 but his surname is Cohen. At the time, he was a tailor living on Auburn Street off the Phibsboro Road.  The 1901 census was taken on 31^st March 1901 so there’s a slight possibility that the two arrived into the city after this date and so were not present for the census.

If anyone can shed any light, please get in touch.

2.

The Irish Judaeo Home Rule Association was founded on 10th September 1908 at a meeting in the Mansion House that attracted around sixty Jews and three Irish Parliamentary Party MPs. The group was formed by Jacob Elyan and Joseph Edelstein and was believed to have contained about two dozen core supporters. MPs John Redmond and John Dillon sent their best wishes to the organisation and the names of Daniel O’Connell and Michael Davitt were recalled at the meeting as great friends of the Jewish people. Speakers at the meeting, besides Elyan and Edlestien, included Arthur Newman and the three Irish Parliamentary Party MPs – William Field, Timothy Charles Harrington and Stephen Gywnn.

An Irish Jew with Unionist sympathies was ejected from the meeting after trying to disrupt proceedings and a fight broke out amongst at least a dozen people towards the end. The Irish Times (11 September 1908) reported:

It appears that some of the Jews who were not in sympathy with the object of the meeting proclaimed their views rather loudly, with the result that they were rather roughly treated at the hands of their co-religionists, who were supported by a number of United League Leaguers.

The organisation seemingly only lasted a few months and didn’t receive any media coverage except for their inaugural meeting. Elyan is the only known original member who continued to be active in Home Rule politics, joining the United Irish League and becoming a member of its Dublin executive.

3.

I’ve been made aware of three mor Jewish individuals who were supporters of Sinn Fein in the War of Independence period.

The first of these was Philip Sayers, described as a “Lithuanian-born early Sinn Feiner” by the Irish Independent (19 April 1943). When he passed away at the age of 88 in 1964, his short obituary included the line that he “took part in the Sinn Fein movement and was a life-long sympathiser with the national movement”. His Dublin-born son Michael was a well-known and celebrated poet and writer with strong political sympathies who married Mentana Galleani, daughter of the militant Italian anarchist Luigi Galleani. When he passed away three years ago, it was noted that Michael had “vivid childhood memories of [IRA] fugitives being hidden in the house and of police raids”.

Jacob Elyan (1878- 1937), who we mentioned earlier as having been a founding member of the Judaeo-Irish Home Rule Association in 1908, was also a close supporter of Sinn Fein. He had been invited by John Redmond to stand for election but declined due to ill-health. For the same reason, he was unable to take take a seat in the Free State Senate of 1923.

Dr. Edward ’Eddie’ Lipman (1887-1965) was close friends with Count Markievicz, Arthur Griffith, James Stephens and other figures in the world of politics and the arts. He took up medical practice in London in the early 1920s where he and his Mayo wife Dr. Eva Kavanagh Lipman “ministered generously, both in matters of health and in personal affairs, to Cockney proletarians and working-class Irish migrants and their families” as the Irish Times of 7th January 1965 noted.

During the Anglo-Irish Treaty negotiation in London in 1921, Arthur Griffith used to frequently call on Eddie Lipman for a “talk and walk through the streets of the English capital”. He worked in the East End until retirement when he returned home to his native Dublin. He died there after a short illness  in June 1965.

4.

In December 1920, a Russian-born Jew Sarah Medalie died of a heart attack after the Black and Tans burst into her bedroom in her home in Cork.

In 1901, the Medali family (spelt without the ‘e’ in the census) were living at 8 Elizabeth Terrace on the southside of the city. Husband David (36), a pedlar, lived with his wife Sarah (32) and their three children Lena (7), Joseph (2) and Harrey (8 months). All were born in Russia except for the youngest two children. After considerable searching, I cannot find the family in the 1911 census.

Manus O’Riordan who has done much research into the case wrote:

By 1915 David Medalie’s economic circumstances and occupation had improved from that of peddler to draper, and the family moved home into rooms above his own city centre shop in Tuckey Street.

During a massive search operation in Cork that left a trail of destruction, the Black and Tans forcibly broke into the Medalie’s home at 23 Tuckey Street. The Cork Examiner reported on 13 December 1920:

Mrs. Medalie, a Jewess, died suddenly in her house in Tuckey Street, Cork … on Friday nigh as military entered her bedroom. ‘We are Jews’, she said, when she saw the soldiers, ‘and have nothing to do with the political movement’. Then she exclaimed, ‘Oh my heart!’ and … collapsed.

She was 53.

The fact remains that the only three Jewish killed during the revolutionary period (1916-23) were at the hands of the Black and Tans (Sarah Medalie in 1920) and anti-Semitic former Free State officers (Bernard Golderg and Ernest Kahn in 1923).

Raphael Siev (RIP), former curator of the Jewish Museum, with a picture of Ernest Kahn. Credit – The Sunday Independent (24 June 2007)

Some fiction writers, most noticeably Roddy Doyle’s A Star Called Henry, have portrayed the IRA as having anti-Semitic murderous elements. However it is according to Manus O’Riordan an:

uncontestable historical fact … that Ireland’s War of Independence, in which members of the Jewish community themselves participated, never saw a single Jew killed by the IRA, whether deliberately or even accidentally.

5.

A Polish-born Jew, Idel Weingarten, was arrested in Glasgow in August 1924 for “contravention of the Aliens order”. It transpired that he had just come from Ireland via Germany and in his possession were “several photographs of prominent persons” in the Republican movement. The Irish Times (28 Aug 1924) headline read “Wandering Jew: Mystery of visits to Ireland”.

In 1948, he was arrested and sentenced to two years in jail for being the “ringleader of a fake passport ring” which aided foreign citizens to illegaly enter Britain and Canada. The newspapers reported at the time that Weingarten had previously admitted to “trafficking arms to Ireland” for the IRA.

He seemingly spent most of his life in and out of prison.

In November 1955, he was arrested and sentence to another two years in jail in Glasgow for “fraud charges involving good valued at more than £1513″. The Evening News (17 Nov 1955) reported that his lawyer had told the court that Weingarten had did “good work during the war helping to smuggle people out of Europe to Britain and America”.

He was arrested again in 1962 for attempting to defraud a woman from Portadown of over £20,000. He was charged with, amongst other things “falsely pretending that he was married .. was in employment of the Government of Kenya (and that he) had inherited £38,000 upon the death of his father in Nairobi”. Proving that Nigerian prince type scam emails were popular well before the establishment of the World Wide Web!

6.

The ground-breaking silent full-length film Irish Destiny (1926) was financed, written and produced by Isaac Eppel (1892-1942), a Jewish doctor who ran a pharmacy on Mary Street.

Film poster for Irish Destiny (1926). Credit – IFI blog

Set between mid-1920, at the height of the War of Independence, and the Truce of 1921, the film traces the love affair of IRA volunteer Denis O’Hara (Paddy Dunne Cullinan) and his fiancee, Moira Barry (Frances MacNamara). It was firmly populist and pro-Republican no doubt reflecting Eppel’s own political views.The film interweaved actual newsreel footage of the Black and Tans, the burning of Cork, and the burning of the Customs House in Dublin with dramatised scenes which were filmed in Enniskerry, London and Dublin. For over five decades it was believed lost until the IFI Irish Film Archive found a print in the U.S. Library of Congress in 1991 and restored it to its original tinted and toned glory.It was Eppel’s first and only film. The costly production had cost him his marriage and personally bankrupted him. He gave up his medical career and took over the Palace (later the Academy) cinema on Pearse Street. He later emigrated to England and died in obscurity.7.

Herman Good (1906 – 1981), was a Jewish Dublin-born solicitor active with the James Connolly Workers’ Clubs in the late 1920s and the IRA led Irish Labour Defence League in the early 1930s. He described himself as the first Jewish member of the Labour Party, running for them in elections in 1933 and 1944. Qualifying as a solicitor in 1929, he served in the legal profession for over 50 years rising to the post of Justice of the District Court.

Well-known for legally representing the unemployed, strikers and individuals injured in the workplace, some of his cases included:

- November 1929: Defended an former soldier charged with “riotous assembly” at a demonstration of the unemployed outside Leinster House.

-  December 1929: Defended two young men charged with breaking windows in St. Stephen’s Green after a protest march of the unemployed.

- March 1930: Appeared in court on behalf of the Irish Labour Defence League and appealed that the judge free several men including Christopher Ferguson (secretary of the National Unemployed Movement) and John Fox (secretary of the Irish Labour Defence League) after their arrest at a demonstration.

- March 1931: Defended the five leaders of a strike at the Greenmount and Boyne Linen Company mill in Augnier Street who were charged with the assault of a man. Good described the charges as a “frame up” to “defeat the strike”.

- May 1933: Defended former IRA volunteer Sean Murray and Sean Nolan (both members of the and Revolutionary Workers Group) who were inside Connolly House on North Strand Street when it was attacked by a large anti-Communist mob wound up by a local priest.

- June 1933: Represented 96 families of the Municipal Tenants Association in a case against Dublin Corporation who were trying to evict them.

- July 1934: Defended four striking workers from Samuel Oliver and McCabe shirt factory on South Great George’s Street who were charged with “wrongfully and without legal authority watching and besitting” the factory.

In July 1938, he defended an Austrian Koppel Roeffler who escaped from the Nazis and was living in Dublin but who the State wanted to deport. During the Second World War, he became an officer in the Local Defence Force and helped Jews in the six counties who had successfully escaped the Third Reich.

Good was active with the James Connolly Workers’ Club (JCWC) in Dublin in the late 1920s. This group was established in October 1924 as a forum for Marxist politics and workers’ education. Their offices at 47 Parnell Square were raided by the police in August 1928.

He then joined the Labour Party, becoming their first Jewish member, and ran for the party in the June 1933 Municipal Elections in District No. 4 in Dublin. I was unable to find out the results of this election. In the May 1944 General Election, he stood in the Dublin Townships constituency and won 2,104 first preference votes, keeping his deposit. This was a respectable result when you take into account he was up against the mighty giants of Fianna Fail‘s Sean MacEntee and Fine Gael‘s John A. Costello.

Hermann Good. Credit – The Irish Times (Jul 10, 1976).

Throughout his 50 year legal career, he defended an unending list of young shoplifters, joy riders, smugglers and individuals injured in various bus, car, tram and workplace accidents. He was an outspoken opponent of both corporal and capital punishment and believed that the Swedish model of rehabiliation and rededucation for offenders was the way forward.

Never waiving from his republican views, he told Eileen O’Brien in an Irish Times interview (10 July 1976) that “there will never be peace in Ireland until Ireland is united”. He passed away in 1981.

8.

In 1939, a Dublin IRA member by the name of Harry Goldberg was sentenced to three weeks in Strangeways prison for refusing to divulge the names of fellow Irish Republicans in Liverpool. The Irish Independent (25 Feb 1939) revealed that he worked as a “mattress maker” and lived on Auburn Street in Everton. He had moved over from Dublin in 1937. Good admitted to attending two IRA parades in the city, one being at a house in Edge Lane. In court, he was questioned but “refused to mention names”.

1939 Liverpool IRA trail. The Irish Independent (15 March 1939)

(For the full story of the Liverpool IRA’s 1939 bombing campaign, read Bryce Evans’s excellent ‘Fear and Loathing in Liverpool: The IRA’s1939 Bombing Campaign on Merseyside’)

I think it be assumed beyond doubt that Goldberg was Jewish. As such, I wonder if he was connected to the republican-leaning Goldberg family from Cork.

In 1911, there two Harry Goldberg’s living in Ireland. Both Jewish and Dublin basde.

10-year old Harry lived at 31 Harcourt Street with his father (a Dentist originally from Poland), his mother (also from Poland) and five siblings (all Dublin born). This Harry would have been born in 1901 making him 38 in 1939.

The second Harry Goldberg was 7 years old and living at 5 St. Kevin’s Parade in the heart of Little Jersualem with his coal merchant father (born in Russia), his mother (originally from Leeds) and four siblings (all Dublin born). This Harry would have been born in 1904 making him 35 in 1939.

Again, if anyone has anymore information – please get in touch.

9.

Ken McCue, Inner City activist and founding member of Sports Against Racism in Ireland (SARI), told us that he used to deliver newspapers in the late 1960s to many members of the Jewish community around Capel Street and North King Street in the north inner city. He remembers that Moscow News and the Manchester Guardian were particularly popular and most of his Jewish customers were “quite old and radically left wing.”

Ken took over the paper route from his older Hugh after he started playing football for Home Farm. (Another brother Harry was recently Ireland’s under-21 caretaker manager). They worked for Matt O’Connor and Charlie Kinlan who were the two newsagents on North King Street.

Ken continues:

The Manchester Guardian was broadsheet at the time and I delivered it along with the Moscow News (picked up from Mary Bassett on Parnell St.). Mary had it posted from the CPGB in England and it was often impounded at the PO sorting office in Amiens St. The other left-wing paper in circulation at the time was the Morning Star that my Grandfather had in the house by way of his printers union and now and again we would get The United Irishman that was moving to the Left under the influence of Eamonn Smullen and Eoghan Harris.

///

Acknowlegements:
Barnet and Volkes (Politics.ie poster ’12 bens’ & Manus O’Riordan for original research); Irish Judaeo Home Rule Association (John Gibney); Sarah Mendalie (Séamas Ó Sionnaigh and Manus O’Riordan for original research); Herman Good (Brian Hanley); Harry Goldberg (Brian Hanley and Bryce Evans).

I stumbled upon this hilarious personal account, of four tongue-tied students and a bewitching girl from the early 1910s, in the Witness Statement of Robert Brennan. The story is centered around a house in Lennox Street in Portobello and is worth reading in full:

“I had traveled to Dublin for an examination and I was met at the railway station by three Wexford friends of mine, John Moloney, his brother Peter, and Fred Cogley, all students. They were all staying at the same digs in Portobello and they had arranged for me to stay there also. We were hardly well inside the house when the three of them rushed to the front room crying, “Here she is”. I joined them and saw a very good looking girl. She came up the steps of the house and entered and the attentions of all three of them were transferred to the doorway through which she could be seen tripping lightly up the stairs. They said to me

“Isn’t she grand?”

I agreed and asked what she was like.

“Well, haven’t you seen her for yourself?”

“But what is she like to talk to?”

They didn’t know. They had never spoken to her, because they had not been introduced. She was a lodger like themselves. Her name was Kiernan and she was a native of Carlow. I thought it strange that in the course of several weeks they were unable to strike up an acquaintance. They wanted to know how.

“Well” I suggested, “you could, for instance, run up the stairs when she’s coming down … bump into her and ‘beg your pardon’ and there you are”.

“But” said Peter, “what could we talk to her about?”

“I don’t know” I said, “maybe if you get talking to her you could think of something”. I suddenly remembered she was from Carlow. “Why not talk about Carlow?”

They knew nothing about Carlow, did I?

“The only thing I know bout it,” I said “is that they have electric light there.”

At the time Carlow was the only provincial town in Ireland so blessed.

The next day I left the library and walked up into Grafton Streer. What was my amazement when I saw Peter Maloney on the opposite side of the street standing talking to Miss Kiernan, or rather he was standing looking at her, his round, fair, innocent face like the rising sun. When he saw me he sent out signals of distress and I joined him and was introduced.

“This is Mr. Brennan, Miss Kiernan”.

I looked at her and saw the bluest eyes I had ever beheld. They were paralysing. I managed to say:

“How do you do?”

“I’m well, thanks” she said, and she was blushing too. I made a violent effor to concentrate.

“It’s a fine day” I said

“Yes” she replied

Then I tried in vain to think of any further word in the English, Irish or any other language. The silence was sold. At last I blurted out:

“Which way are you going?”

She indicated the direction of Stephen’s Green.

“That way” she said.

“So am I”

The three of us walked towards Stephen’s Green. I tried to think of something to say and Peter’s obvious embarrassment did not help me. At last I had an idea. Of course, I could not know that Peter had said it already.

“I understand” I said “that you are from Carlow, Miss Kiernan”.

“Yes”

I saw now that Peter had already said it, but it was too late to draw back.

“I believe”, I said, and there was desperation in my voice, “that you have electric light there.”

“Yes.”

We entered Harcourt Street without another word. The perspiration was rolling off me. It was clear that what Peter was saying to himself should have blasted me from the earth.

We were halfway up Harcourt Street when we saw Cogley coming down. I thanked God.

He stopped and was introduced.

“How do you do”, he said and I was horror stricken to see that her eyes had the same effect on him.

“I’m well thanks”

He managed to say “It’s  a fine day.”

“Yes”

After a very long pause, he said: “I think I’ll go back with you”.

And the four of us walked on. The silence was now fourfold.

Of course, Fred got the same idea. I saw it dawning in his mind and I kicked him. This only spurred him on.

“I believe, Miss Kiernan” he said, “that you come from Carlow”.

“Yes.”

He knew now. It was evident from the quiver in his voice.

“I understand” he said “you have electric light there.”

“Yes.”

It was terrible. There was not a word spoken till we turned into Lennox Street. John Maloney was sitting on the steps of house. I hastened on in front.

“John” I said in a tragic whisper, “don’t say anything about electric light in Carlow”.

And aloud he said: “What about electric light in Carlow?”

She heard him and she passed indoors, her head held high. She never looked at any of us again.”

It was fantastically written so I was not surprised that the author, Robert Brennan, wrote several novels, plays and a well-received memoir.

Brennan was a founder member of the Wexford branch of the Gaelic League, Wexford IRB organiser in 1916, commanding officer of the Sinn Fein Press Bureau from 1918- 21, director of publicity for the anti-Treaty IRA during the Civil War, a founding member of the Irish Press and Fianna Fail, Irish Minister to the United States from 1937 to 47 and later director of broadcasting at Radio Éireann.

He published his first novel, The False Fingertip, in 1921 under the pen name ‘R. Selskar Kearney’ followed by a crime novel The Toledo Dagger, in 1926 under his own name.

The False Fingertip (1921). Credit – yvonnejerrold.com

In the 1930s his play about the life of convicts in an English prison, The Bystander, was performed in the Abbey, and later in the decade his comedy on the disappearance of the Irish crown jewels, Goodnight Mr O’Donnell, was performed at the Olympia Theatre.

The Bystander (1930). Credit – yvonnejerrold.com

After his retirement, he wrote and published his memoir Allegiance in 1950. The following year he wrote another novel, The Man Who Walked Like A Dancer, that was set in Washington. Through 1956 and 1957 Brennan published a weekly column of reminiscences in the Irish Press entitled Mainly Meandering. He passed away in 1964 and is buried at Mount Jerome cemetery.

His daughter Maeve Brennan was a celebrated New Yorker columnist (1954-81), called the Long-Winded Lady, who was almost unknown in Ireland until her work was revived to critical acclaim in the late 1990s. Described by one journalist last year as “The greatest Irish writer you’ve never heard of”, Maeve grew up at 48 Cherryfield Avenue, Ranelagh (the setting for almost half her forty plus short stories) but moved to New York in her late teens after her father became secretary of the Irish legation in Washington DC.

Her entry in the Dictionary of Irish biography by Angela Bourke discusses her early work and the build up of her image:

From 1943 to 1949 she wrote fashion copy for [Harper's Bazaar] and its offshoot Junior Bazaar, often accompanying photographers on assignment, and also completed her novella ‘The visitor’. Her strikingly glamorous image, with dark lipstick, high heels, and hair piled on top of her head, dates from this period, while her trained observations of fabric, cut and colour would lend characteristic detail to all her fiction, and to her ‘Long-Winded Lady’ essays in the New Yorker’s ‘Talk of the town’.

cruited to the New Yorker in 1949 by William Shawn, Brennan first wrote fashion notes and book reviews, but fiction editor William Maxwell soon began to publish her stories about Dublin. Maxwell later said of her: “To be around her was to see style being invented”. Some believe she was the inspiration for the character of Holly Golightly in Truman Capote’s Breakfast At Tiffany’s. The two had worked together at both Harper’s Bazaar and The New Yorker.

Maeve Brennan at home. Photo by Karl Blissinger. Credit – http://thelicentiate.com

Journalist Colin Murphy picks up the story:

She married a colleague, St Clair McKelway, but he was even more unsettled: he had been married three times, and was a drinker, womaniser and depressive. Their five years together were chaotic; they had no children and, after they split, Brennan remained single.

Her sardonic observations of New York life  in her The Long-Winded Lady column in The New Yorker and her fiction criticism, fashion notes, and short stories were widely praised throughout the 1950s and 1960s. However, by the 1970s she became increasingly isolated and unable to take care of herself. She was mired in debt, thanks to her generosity, extravagance and a habit of abandoning apartments to stay in hotels. Brennan became homeless, and took to sleeping in a cubicle at the New Yorker, where she nursed a sick pigeon she had rescued. Her last New Yorker piece, ‘A blessing’, appeared on 5 January 1981. She died, in 1993, aged 76, in a nursing home.

It was only after he death that she became to be appreciated in her home country. Thanks mainly to a series of posthumous collections and biography of her written by Angela Bourke. Two plays about aspects of her life have been performed by Emma O’Donogue (‘Talk of the Town’, 2012) and Eamon Morrissey (‘Maeve’s House’, 2013) in recent years. The latter of whom met her in 1966 in New York as a 23 year old after he found out he was living in that house she grew up in. Eamon explained to the Irish Examiner back in September:

She is a neglected author in the Irish canon. And she is very definitely an Irish writer, even though she lived most of her life in New York. She’s in that difficult situation where the Americans regard her as an Irish writer and the Irish regard her as an American writer. Both nations should be proud to claim her.

l-r Brian Foley, Paul Cleary, Conor Brady and Jake Reilly. From The Blades official FB page. Photographer – Conor Horgan (www.conorhorgan.com)

As I continue to transcribe the interview that I did with Paul Cleary of The Blades the other week, I thought it would be worth collating the band’s lyrics in the run up to next weekend’s two gigs in the Olympia Theatre.

Friday is completely sold out but there’s a few tickets left for the Saturday night via Ticketmaster. Copies of both albums are available on CD via Reekus or via Itunes.

The lyrics to the 15 songs from Raytown Revisited weren’t included in the sleeve notes to the LP so I spent a couple of enjoyable hours listening to the album and trying to make out the words. Thankfully I got a lot of help from other members of The Blades fan group on Facebook.

The lyrics to the 11 songs from ‘The Last Man In Europe’ were included with the sleeve notes so it was just a case of writing them up.

If you see any mistakes, please leave a comment.

Lyrics from Raytown Revisited 1980-85 – LP – Reekus Records, 1985

1. Ghost of a Chance

Long weekend
When boredom takes a grip
I’m in Dublin
She’s on a working trip
Cause she send me postcards
Every now and then
Yes, she send me postcards

To put the blame on education
Call it separation

Ghost of a Chance
We never had
Ghost of a Chance
We never had

United Nations
They sit with headphones on
Hearing speeches
Protect the Lebanon

To hear her talking  (talking)
Sweet sincere
To her her talking  (talking)

This situation
Doesn’t need interpretation

Ghost of a Chance
We never had
Ghost of a Chance
We never had x 2

2. Animation

I dreamed I had a dream
And in that dream
I turned to stone
I woke up in the park
Under a statue in the dark
Then the statue walked away

Full buses, busy streets
No-one lost and no-one found
Can’t tell if my heart beats
I never hear a sound

Though it’s funny how I go into
Animation, when I see that girl walking by
Animation, with the single blink of an eye
Animation,  though I’m usually so shy

Long nights and longer days
And all that trouble that they bring
Stare through a coloured haze
I never seen a thing

Though it’s funny how I go into
Animation, when I see that girl walking by
Animation, with the single blink of an eye
Animation,  though I’m usually so shy

Animation, when I see that girl walking by
Animation, with the single blink of an eye
Animation,  though I’m usually so shy

3. Muscle Men

What a compliment, they say he’s got chiseled features
A face like granite would be fair
Wrestled with the thought, he may be one of God’s creatures
I’d rather wrestle with a bear

Muscle Men

Go and do your duty
And if anyone complains

Muscle Men

Make them understand
That muscle men have got no brains

I had to pinch myself just to see if I was dreaming
Woke up in hospital today
What a poor excuse when they asked him for the reason
“He wasn’t dancing the right way”

Keep the place in order
Shirt and suit and black bow tie

Muscle Men

Say it’s provocation
Muscle Men don’t ever lie

Muscle Men x3

Keep the place in order
shirt and suit and black bow tie

Muscle Men don’t ever lie

MUSCLE MEN!

4. Stranger Things Have Happened

Don’t…… try to hide
Your feelings
The way that I do
Please…. open your mind
And let…. me in it with you
Waking up together
Imagine it it this way
We could both swap memories
And stay in bed all day

Stranger things have happened x2

If… you go away
I won’t cry
And I won’t grieve
Faith… is a word
It means nothing
If you refuse to believe

We could say I made you and stop these silly games
In a foreign country, where no-one knew our names

Stranger things have happened x2

This is self-inflicted
Why must our hearts be blue?
Sometimes when out drinking I fool myself that…
I’ll forget you

Stranger things have happened x5

5. Rules of Love

Too many rights and wrongs
That just can’t be explained away
So full of bitterness
This empty feeling is here to stay

Your life comes tumbling down
And you wait for the phone to ring
Don’t be so miserable
Self-pity won’t change a thing

Rule one, don’t walk with someone new
Rule two, don’t ever disagree
Rule three, don’t let the other person know how much you need them

These are the rules of love
They’re broken and abused
These are the rules of love
Though I remain confused
These are the rules of love

Don’t break the rules of…

You should have been prepared
You should have known it could never last
No turning back the clock
There’s no time to retrace the past

Rule one, don’t walk with someone new
Rule two, don’t ever disagree
Rule three, don’t let the other person know how much you need them

These are the rules of love
They’re broken and abused
These are the rules of love
Though I remain confused
These are the rules of love
Don’t break the rules of love
Rules of love x2
Don’t break the rules of love

6. Hot For You

The days are really getting longer now
The rain is gone
The sun is stronger now
So cast aside your inhibitions
And your raincoats too

The pretty gals are lying on the sand
They’re trying their best to get their bodies tanned
I don’t know why but when it’s summer all I think is you

So… come outside baby
Now the time is right
With your brand new shades
And your jeans so tight
Well the sun is burning and I’m getting hot for you

And never mind what other people say
They’re only praying for the rainy day
Make up your mind to have some fun and we’ll go out tonight (?)
That’s right
And when we’re dancing nothing can go wrong
The DJs playing all our favourite songs
And all my worries drift away when you hold me tight (So tight)

So, come outside baby
the time is right
with your brand new shades
and your jeans so tight
Well the sun is burning and I’m getting hot for you

x3

7. Some People Smile

We’ve wasted time as well as tears
All in the name of fun
Now as the weeks they turn to years
Slow motion as we run

Who would have thought?
We’ve come to this
It’s kissing time
But we don’t kiss
We just wonder
Some people smile
We just wonder
Some people smile

And when you’re lying in your bed
Eyes closed but still awake
The little things you should have said
Hands touch but by mistake

Who would have thought?
We’ve come to this
It’s kissing time
But we don’t kiss
We just wonder
Some people smile
We just wonder
Some people smile

Some people smile x 4

8. The Bride Wore White

There are a lot of things, a lot of us are scared to mention
Of pain and breaking down and silly rules we call to measure
The open secret quickly turn to an ugly rumour
Another scandal

Living in a world that makes me sad
I’m living in a world that makes me dream
I’m living in a world that makes me mad
This world makes me scream

He hopes, she thinks
There’s no danger
Turn out the light
Happy…
XXX who’s that stranger?
The bride wore white

Donations handed out, somebody else’s poor relations
Try to be absent when they’re giving out the invitations
In sickness and in health, in poverty or deep depression
What could be better?

Living in a world that makes me sad
I’m living in a world that makes me dream
I’m living in a world that makes me mad
This world makes me scream

He hopes, she thinks
There’s no danger
Turn out the light
Happy…
X who’s that stranger?
The bride wore white

He drinks, she shows no resistance
It’s cold tonight
Girl, boy
Who cares? What’s the difference?
The bride wore white x3

9. Revelations of Heartbreak

Whose undergone a transformation?
Now that you’re twisted and you’re bitter
You must have had every indication
There was going to be a bitter twist

Now that it’s time for big decisions
Now that your friends are all advising
Throw the ring back into his face or
Leave it on the long finger

Face the fact
Don’t be scared
To look back
In time

The revelations of heartbreak
The revelations of soul
Find out when it’s too late
The revelations of heartbreak x2
The revelations of soul
Find out when it’s too late
The revelations of heartbreak

Trying to make a bad impression
You hear your name but you don’t answer
You’d rather wallow in depression
Cause somebody whispers in your ear
It hasn’t turned out like you expected
Now you’re free
You’re becoming a public exhibition
That no-one wants to see

Face the fact
Don’t be scared
To look back
In time

The revelations of heartbreak
The revelations of soul
Find out when it’s too late
Revelations of heartbreak x2
Revelations of soul
Find out when it’s too late
The revelations of heartbreak

The revelations of heartbreak (“Hey Hey Hey”)
The revelations of soul (“Revelations of soul”)
Find out when it’s too late
The revelations of, the revelations
The revelations of heartbreak (“Hey Hey Hey”)
The revelations of soul (“Revelations of soul”)
Find out when it’s too late
The revelations of heartbreak

10. Those Were The Days

There’s a teacher in the class
With a tight grip on my ear
And I know he won’t let go
Until I can force a tear
So I cry the best I can
To eliminate the pain
Now I forget what I did wrong
All I remember is the shame

Still they’re saying
Those were the days
So simple and so clear
Those were the days
With only God to fear
Those were the days
When people weren’t afraid
Those were the days of hoping

Father Father, I confess
In my ignorance and haste
I was caught out with this girl
Now I am no longer chaste
Human instinct is a flaw
In this theory you have built
Though it’s a blessing in disguise
Now I know it to be guilt

Still they’re saying
Those were the days
So simple and so clear
Those were the days
With only God to fear
Those were the days
When people weren’t afraid
Those were the days of hoping

Those were the days
When everything was right
Those were the days
When people used to fight
Those were the days
When people weren’t afraid
Those were the days
(Listen to me)
Those were the days
So simple and so clear
Those were the days
With only God to fear
Those were the days
When we weren’t afraid
(Those were the days)
Those were the days
So simple and so clear
Those were the days

11. You Never Ask

Everything’s right now, so it seems
Saturday shopping, save and share
Your smile of contentment how it beams
Into the the warm suburban air

You… forget the past
But you… don’t want to know
You… never ask me
How I feel
(About her)
How I feel
(Without her)

The party was over much too soon
We may as well finish off the punch
All this rushing to consume
It used to be dinner, now it’s lunch

You… forget the past
You… don’t want to know
You… never ask me
How I feel
(About her)
How I feel
(Without her)

You… forget the past
You… don’t want to know
You… never ask

12. Too Late

Misery will be my fate
To say I’m not a happy man
Is to understate
What I understand
The heavy steps I never took
The feel of crushing
Always shared
So I overlooked
What I overheard

I found out when it was too late
I found out too late x2
(Too late x2)

Out of mind is out sight
Someday maybe a friendly call
Did you cry that night?
Do you cry at all?
Another long and painful day
With midnight colours
Blue and black
Would you help me say?
Would you help me pack?

I found out when it was too late
I found out too late x2
(Too late x2)

13. The Reunion

I stand on the corne almost every day
Hoping she looks in my direction
In front of the mirror, before I go out
Combing my hair to perfection

I got tired of love telling me what to do
I had to stay clear but sneak out of you
So, I thought that I was free

When will it be the reunion?
I was wrong x2
Will this be the reunion?
It’s been too long x2

I talk to her sister whenever I can
Trying to make a connection
I used to write letters but threw them away
Cause I’m afraid of rejection

I wonder if she ever thinks of me now
I try to forget but I just don’t know how

So… I thought that I was free
When will it be the reunion?
I was wrong x2
Will this be the reunion?
It’s been too long x2

The reunion x4

14. Tell Me Lies

XXX
Asking us to play
Mass excitement is the order of the day
We could all be happy
If only we could find out where or when
If XXX mantra
Over and over… again

When the day comes
Heaven help us all
Staring at the paintings on the wall
Some make sacrifices
Others try to live from day to day
Excommunicate these evil vices
Sweep them all away

Why can’t you see?
I’m looking for
Something I can feel
Why can’t you see?
That I don’t know
What is or isn’t real
Why can’t you see?
That I have doubts about XXX
If you see me with someone else
Try to act surprised
Tell me, Tell me, Tell me lies

XXX
Asking us to play
Mass excitement is the order of the day
We could all be happy
If only we could find out where or when
If XXX mantra
Over and over again

Why can’t you see?
I’m looking for
Something I can feel
Why can’t you see?
That I don’t know
What is or isn’t real
Why can’t you see?
That I have doubts about XXX
If you see me with someone else
Try to look surprised
Tell me, Tell me, Tell me lies

15. Fool Me

I used to think
Now I have stopped
Shoes badly shined
Hair neatly cropped

I know the score
I’m up to date (yeah)
What’s that you said?
Twelve years too late (yeah yeah yeah)

But you can never fool me
(fool me, no no)
But you can never fool me (no)

He’s got a wife
Six kids at home
Drinks in the bar
All on his own
Looks forward to
Ten days in Spain
Works very hard
Never complains
But you can never fool me
(fool me, no no)
But you can never fool me (no) x3

Lyrics from The Last Man In Europe – LP – Reekus Records, 1985.

1. The Last Man In Europe

Now I’m expecting you to track me down
And yes I think I know what you’ll say
This place was dark but now it’s bright again
Oh no, don’t tell me it’s a new day

Need your tales of doom and gloom
So it can all be over soon

I wish that I could be The Last Man In Europe
Then would you fall for me, the last man in Europe

Don’t poison me with fear and jealousy
And all the secrets that I’ll never know
Deception hurts my brain like acid rain
So tell the truth and let the venom flow

Hurry up and block the sun
And maybe then I’ll be the only one

I wish that I could be The Last Man In Europe
Then would you fall for me, the last man in Europe

2. Downmarket

In an unfamilar bed
In an unfamiliar room
There’s a throbbing in my head
I’ve succeeded I presume

Everything’s black and white and grey
Living from day to day to day
I suppose I can’t be choosy, when there’s not too many choices
With the problems of the nation
I’m not waiting at an airport
I’m not waiting at a station
I’m standing at a bus stop. Downmarket. Downmarket.

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. Downmarket.

3. That’s Not Love

If only you would talk to me the way you do
If only you would walk with me out in the midnight blue
I’m absent minded window gazing in the pouring rain
I look at my reflection I can see it’s pretty plain

For all the young romantic fools
Who like to feel the pain
Self pity is your only friend, helps you to complain
That’s not love

And if it’s time for vengeance well I think that it’s my turn
But I haven’t even got a photograph of you to burn
I sit here drinking wine and whiskey from a plastic cup
I phone up the Samaritans but even they hang up

4. Talk About Listening

Five long days for a night on the town
Can’t speak up when you’re not kept down
No one smiles in a warehouse
Counting tiles in a warehouse

Always talk about listening
And you never hear a word
Always talk about listening

Five long days…

Under pressure with overtime
Steal away it’s a reasonable crime
Mental block in a warehouse
Taking stock in a warehouse

5. Got Soul

Give me a sign prove to me you’re pure
Hearts on the line waiting for a cure
Your train of thoughts going off the rail
Slogans for sale

Got soul (if you got soul, where is it?)

Nothing’s being said just a lot of noise
Trying to fool working girls and boys
Now there’s a way of making career
Ruling by fear

Got soul (if you got soul, where is it?)

We’re on our knees bowing to a flag
They’re whipping it up in the daily rag
Take me away to another age
From this plastic rage

Got soul (if you got soul, where is it?)

6. Chance To Stop

A million housewives every day
Pick up a magazine and say
I could have been, I could have been
I could have had, I could have had
But I got married too soon
Though not exactly Mills and Boon

A million husbands every day
Look through an empty glass and say
Everyone I see is much better off than me
Just to make ends meet
I’ve to work until I drop
Never really had a chance to

A million children day
Pick up the magazine and say
I want to be, I want to be
I want to have, I want to have
I’ll take my chances wait and see
Have all my friends look up to me

A million husbands every day
Look through an empty glass and say
Everyone I see is much better off than me
Just to make ends meet
I’ve to work until I drop
Never really had a chance to… stop

7. Don’t Break The Silence

I never had a worry
I never had a care
As long as you were with me
As long as you were there
The bills are piling up
And money’s all been spent
Holding hands together
Will never pay the rent

There were some things
We could have said
Ah but some how
Time slipped away
But that’s okay
Don’t break the silence now

A two up, two down daydream
I wonder if it’s so
And now I know what they mean
By running hot and cold
We thought we climbed a mountain
It was just a slope
Say goodbye to wisdom
Say hello to hope

8. These Were The Days

(See above)

9. Pride

I’d like to break down and say that I’m lonely
But something prevents me
That something can only be

When you know you’re giving way
Heavy is the weight, endless is the wait
Hopeless!

And you want somewhere to run
Need somewhere to hide
If you never cried
Whisper!

I’d like to break down and say that I’m lonely
But something prevents me
That something can only be

So when bitterness comes ’round
No one is exempt
Try and look your best
A vain attempt!

After all is said and done
Someone else’s name
Coming from her lips
Screaming!

10. Boy One

Boy one wants to know
If you still want him
Then tell him so
If not then don’t delay
In sending this boy on his away
No point in hanging on
No point in talking tough
It’s time for honesty
This girl is calling this boy’s bluff

I’m losing the feeling
Without your teach

11. Waiting

I think it’s genuinely sad
I never thought I’d have to learn to crawl
You know you mean the world to me
I’m waiting for you call

I hope that you don’t think I’m mad
Now that I’m barricaded here at home
You know you mean the world to me
I’m waiting for you to call

Even now an optimistic notion
Save my skin by floating in an ocean
Do you agree or disagree?
That fear of death will be
The death of me
I don’t believe them anymore
Waiting for World War
Waiting for World War
Waiting for World War 4

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.”

Did you start buying your own records then at around that time?

“Yeah, from the early 1970s onwards. Cat Stevens, Elton John, Paul Simon, James Taylor. Maybe a bit of Slade and T-Rex. It seems the opposite of punk but this was all pre-punk. Punk blew all that out of the window. But for me then, it was that kind of stuff. The likes of James Taylor taught me how to sing because I used to sing along with those kind of albums.”

Which record shops were you visiting in town?

“A place on Tara Street. I think it was called The Banba. Albums were 2.40 and singles were 50p!”

Did you have your own record player or did the family share one?

“Yep, we all shared a big stereogram. A big wooden thing. The first record we put on it was Bill Haley’s ‘Rock Around The Clock’. Maybe I’m looking through rose-tinted glasses but it really was a magical object. It was how I was introduced to music. I remember putting on headphones and listening to albums for hours and hours on end. It was my world.”

Would you have been swapping albums and singles with your mates? Were they into music as much as you were?

“No, they weren’t really. It was my brother really. He would recommend bands to me. At around 15 or 16, he started showing me a few chords on guitar.”

Can you remember how you heard of the whole Punk explosion?

“It would have been through reading about it in NME I suppose. Reviews of the Sex Pistols and the like. I remember one reviewer said something along the lines of –  “This is not Rock n Roll, it’s more important than that”. It just sounded great to me and I loved the name The Sex Pistols. Rock music had become very stagnant and stale by that stage. All that Prog-Rock rubbish. I always had a passion for music but I saw this as my opportunity to actually do something about it. I was in a choir as a kid so I knew I could sing reasonably well. So could my brother so we used to bounce off harmonies off each other. It was thanks to him. I may have taken up music myself but not as quickly or with as much enthusiasm if it wasn’t for him. I started then to write the odd song and he’d tell me it was very good, sometimes when it really wasn’t but that encouragement from your older brother really helped.”

Were you going to many gigs at this point?

“Yeah well then me and my brother started going out to see bands. We were playing a little bit ourselves so we knew we had to go and see what was out there. We had to see the Irish equivalent of what we’d been reading about in NME and Sounds. We saw a few bands, and I won’t name them because that would be unfair, but they weren’t that good.

But then we saw The Vipers one Saturday afternoon in McGonagles on South Anne Street. The first thing that struck me was that there was a queue outside the door. Now, I’m not nationalistic at all but I remember thinking “this is a queue of local people to see a local band and this can only be a good thing”. They were very good. They wrote pop songs with energy and they didn’t look like middle-class tossers in it for only a laugh. They looked like genuine people into their music. I remember turning to my brother Lar and saying ‘we can do this too’. At the time, The Vipers were the benchmark for us.”

The Vipers, McGonagles (May 1978). Scanned by ‘U2 & Dublin ’76 to ’80′ Facebook page.

Were bands like The Boomtown Rats and The Radiators from Space in your orbit?

“Not really, they’d moved to London about the time I started going to gigs. The other lads in the band went to see the Rats in Morans Hotel at one of their last gigs before they left but I didn’t make it. They said they were a good Rhythm and Blues band.”

Dr. Feelgood esque?

“Yep, exactly. I really liked Dr. Feelgood. In a way, they helped pave the way for the whole punk thing.”

One of your first big gigs was supporting them and The Specials in the Olympic Ballroom in November 1979?

“It would have been, yep. Wilko Johnson wasn’t playing with them at that stage. I think The Specials were booked for that gig well in advance, before they had really broke. So when the gig came around, they were the bigger band. So in a way Dr. Feelgood were relegated to second. The Specials blew me away that night. I learnt a lot from them at that gig. I remember watching The Specials and taking note of how they worked the crowd.”

My ma’s ticket stub for the Dr Feelgood/Specials/Blades gig. November 1979.

How did you guys end up on that bill?

“I really can’t remember. It could have been through [gig promoter] Pat Egan. He probably knew our manager Mark [Venner]. They used to try to put on local, young bands as warm up. I think they probably still do. We were getting some good reviews at the time. We were a bit nervous playing that gig but I really enjoyed it.”

How did the legendary Magnet gigs come about?

“We started playing The Magnet on Tuesday nights. Only about 6 or 7 people turned up to the first few gigs. We probably knew four of them. We then put an ad in Hot Press saying “Punk Rock at The Magnet”. It was mainly known as a cabaret venue at the time. Maybe Boppin’ Billy was doing the rockabilly nights at that stage but it definitely wasn’t a place to see punk bands. It wasn’t really on the circuit as such before we started the residency there. It was only up the road from us anyway so people starting associating The Blades with The Magnet. It was a real small sweaty place and I don’t think we ever played a bad gig there. Also, I always enjoyed making up compilation tapes to play them during the interval between the support band and us. It used to be Jimmy Cliff and a lot of reggae.”

Ad for ‘Hot For You’ single and Magnet gigs. From Imprint Fanzine (May 1980). Scanned by Brand New Retro.

In terms of your diehard mod and scooter boys support, did you ever feel that that fanbase could hold you back in terms of acquiring a wider success?

“I didn’t mind it at all. Sometimes we may even have cultivated it a bit! I always liked the Mod gear myself. I’m not stylish enough to be one myself but I always loved Northern Soul and Motown. I never shoehorned The Blades into a specific Mod category but I’m happy enough to be considered part of the wider Mod family. But you’re right in one way, there was always that danger of being categorised as simply as a ‘mod band’. The Jam are an example of a band who weren’t straight-jacketed by it unlike the likes of The Lambrettas, Secret Affair etc. who weren’t that amazing anyway.”

It always struck me as odd that besides The Blades, Ringsend didn’t produce any other bands during that period. So while there were clusters of bands in specific areas like Howth (The Spies, Rocky De Valera & The Gravediggers, The Modulators etc.), Artane/Ballymun/Malahide (U2, Virgin Prunes etc.), and on the Navan Road etc. you would only ever associate Ringsend with The Blades. Any idea why that is?

“That’s a good question. I’m not sure really. I definitely can’t think of any other Ringsend Punk or New Wave bands. At the time there were a couple of cabaret/wedding bands who did covers but that was about it.

The only other angle to that is that I do remember seeing Eamon Carr [drummer, Horslips] around the area. Usually on the number 2 or 3 bus to Sandymount. You’d see him sitting upstairs at the front. A very cool looking guy. I thought it was great seeing someone like that on a bus. I remember thinking that that’s the kind of person I want to be. In a band but on a bus too” I always liked the idea of being in a band. Sometimes more than the reality of being in a band itself. I get bored in the studio. I get nervous playing live gigs but hopefully I utilise that nervous energy. An anxious sort of nervousness. Rehearsals are mind numbingly boring and hard work. Photo sessions are probably the worst of all. Standing there for hours on end. The only thing I really liked was when I wrote a song, brought it to rehearsal and everything would go well.”

Jumping ahead to politics, how did you first become politically aware?

“It was just my background really. Seeing how life was unfair in terms of access to opportunities. How society and how politics was run in general. I would have started having political arguments when I was 15 or 16. All the bullshit from big business and the Fine Gaels and Fianna Fails of the country. Even the PDs saying that they would be good for the general society when they were only really interested in helping their own kind of people – people they went to Clongowes with or whatever.”

One of several Anti-Apartheid/Dunnes Strike benefit gigs Paul played. January 1985. Scanned by Shay Ryan.

Have your politics shifted over time?

“I probably wouldn’t be as edgy or spiky as I was then but I still hold most of those political ideals. I’d still be voting Hard Left.”

I’m really fascinated with 1980s agit-prop soul bands. I’ve come up with the descripion of ‘up-tempo brass-driven left-leaning Motown-influenced soul’. Bands like Dexy’s Midnight Runners (first album), The Jam’s last album and then the Style Council, The Redskins, The Faith Brothers and Fire Next Time. Did you feel at the time that The Blades were part of this ‘community’ or is it only in hindsight that The Blades seem to fit in well with this strand of mainly British bands?

“I don’t really know. I tend to leave that up to people themselves. It’s so difficult for me to be objective when asked questions about The Blades and what genre or groups they belong to. If people wanted to put us into the same group with Billy Bragg, the Style Council etc. – I certainly wouldn’t be offended, put it that way. They would have been mostly left-leaning Labour Party/Red Wedge supporters.”

What about The Redskins?

“Certainly. They’d be more Socialist Workers Party, which is fine again by me. I wouldn’t have any problem being put into the same category as those kind of groups.”

It seems that your more political songs are more relevant today than they have been since at any time since the early 1980s, has the irony been lost on you?

“No, it hasn’t at all. It’s sad in many ways. We haven’t really moved on that much, even if some people thought we had. During the Celtic Tiger years, there was some who promoted the notion that “we’re all middle class now”. There was a lot of “pull the ladder up, we’ve made it here”. It was just an illusion though. It seems today that things are more anti-collective bargaining, anti – trade unionism etc. It’s still a very right wing country. That’s the political culture we have here. Some of it has to do with the Catholic Church. Fianna Fail and Fine Gael and other parties have been pulling the wool over our eyes for so long. We haven’t built up that culture of left-wing politics yet. We have a culture of anti-Imperialism but that hasn’t really translated into anything else.”

Did Republican politics ever interest you?

“Not narrow-minded nationalism. I know Sinn Fein talk a lot about socialist issues but to me they’re still a nationalist party. For me, nationalism and socialism don’t mix. Nationalism is all based on the bit of land you were born on. I don’t believe somebody is any better if they were born in Dublin or in Manchester.”

Looking at some of your lyrics, I thought similar themes running through Muscle Men (bouncers) and ‘Those Were The Days’ (teachers) was violence at the hands of authority figures.

“Well for Muscle Men, I think I wrote it after being refused to a couple of places. To be fair, nightclub bouncers are easy targets to write about!  ‘Those Were The Days’ was about Catholic schooling. The guilt and Catholicism and the choices that creep in on you.”

Was it based on personal experiences of getting whacked by school teachers or was it more of a general criticism?

“More general. I got off reasonably lightly. I got a few whacks but as I’ve said before to people the whacks are often not as bad as the psychological damage that can go with it.”

Paul Cleary. Photographer – Colm Henry.

In ‘Talk About Listening‘, you describe the warehouse worker toiling away Monday to Friday for one night on the town on the weekend. It would seem that very few bands in Dublin in the early 1980s were writing about similar genuine day-to-day issues facing working class and young people?

“The song is a bit arty in a way in its construct. There’s very few lines, it’s very minimal. Almost Beckettian without sounding pretentious. It indicates someone’s state of mind in a job like that. As the song is based in a warehouse, it’s bleak so there’s not six or seven verses. It’s not the blue collar stuff of Bruce Springsteen. It’s not all doom and gloom but working class life can be very bleak. It lacks hope. It lacks a future. They’re the real things. There was a horrible politician in the 1980s who said that they could live on X amount a week out in Ballymun. Of course she could. She could do it for 6 months but the fact is that once you know that you can step out of that environment, it’s easy to do. The whole thing about being poor or not having a job is the feeling that it’s always going to be like that. It’s not that you can only afford a small pan loaf of bread, it’s the fact that you only afford a small pan loaf of bread every day for the rest of your life.”

I thought the theme of disenchantment with the political class can be seen again with ‘Got Soul‘:

Nothing’s being said just a lot of noise
Trying to fool working girls and boys
Now there’s a way of making career
Ruling by fear
…
We’re on our knees bowing to a flag
They’re whipping it up in the daily rag

“Yeah, there was also a dig at nationalism in there. It’s what the ruling class do. It’s what Thatcher did during the Falklands. I wrote the song during that war in 1982 and it probably was in the back of my mind when writing those lyrics. The ruling class always say: “forget about your grievances against us, let’s all unite as a people under this one flag”. That’s why I would never trust nationalism as an ideology to get you anywhere.”

For me, it would seem that all of your politics came together in ‘Dublin City Town‘. As I wrote before on the blog, the song deals with wealth inequality, the gombeen political class, the developers’ destruction of the city’s architecture, youth unemployment, mass emigration and Irish society’s relationship with alcohol all in under 4 and a half minutes.

“Ha, well thanks! It was very ambitious alright.”

But it also had good tune!

“Look, it’s little or no use without the good tune. It’s great to think that I wrote these things with a hope that some people might appreciate it later on. You’ve made feel good about myself now.” *laughs*

It’s also quite a uplifting song. There’s hope in the message as well.

“Yeah, it’s a defiant song if you like.”

Paul Cleary – Dublin City Town (1986)

Jumping ahead to your post-Blades work with the Cajun Kings, did you have always have an ambition to play that kind of music?

“Not at all. To me, I wasn’t even involved. It was like a holiday but I got paid. I needed the money. I knew the lads in the band as well. It was just a breeze. For the Wilf Brothers before the Cajun Kings, I would sing about 3 or 4 songs and have a few pints on stage. I could never go to Brazil with the money but we got a few bob. I enjoyed the freedom of it.”

Do you listen to much new music?

“No, I don’t really. I know I should though. Three young children means I don’t have a lot of spare time! I’m probably not as enthusiastic as I used to be in going out and searching for new music but if it comes to me, I’ll embrace it.”

Have you embraced the internet and sites like YouTube and Facebook?

“Facebook, no. I don’t have an account on that or on Twitter. YouTube is great though. If I think of an old song, I can get it straight away.”

Was there any big reason why you decided to finally get the band together after all these years?

“Not really. It was a number of small little things. One thing was the return of emigration. A lot of people obviously come home for Christmas so I thought it would be nice to do something, for the want of a better word, for the diaspora coming home.”

Something like Paul Cleary’s Gathering? *laughs*

“Ha, yeah that’s right. Another angle was that I love the Olympia Theatre itself and the Phil Chevron gig went so well there. He was so great that night as were his people. It was so dignified. I turned up and played a couple of song’s at Phil’s request. He obviously would have loved to play himself and that kinda got me thinking about my own stuff. I said to myself “Why be so precious about it?”

What’s the future for the band going into the New Year, can we expect any new material?

“There’s always a chance. Those bands who played in the 1970s or 1980s and then reform for a few gigs sometimes delude themselves into thinking they can start again and be the same people they once were. It’s just not like that. If I had new material, I’d hope it would be reasonably good. But you have to think, who would give us money to record it? Well, you wouldn’t need as much as you did back then. Would anyone actually buy it? Well, there’d be downloads etc. It’s a different game now. I wouldn’t rule anything out. I’ve been caught out before saying “The Blades will never play again”. I’m concentrating on these two gigs. I want people to be happy walking out so if I decide to do a gig next year or something at least people can go ‘well, at least we weren’t shortchanged then’.”

Thanks for speaking to me Paul.

“No problems Sam.”

The Blades, The Olympia Theatre, December 2013.

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

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. By 1911, the family were living in 15 Victoria Street. Harry (29), a draper, and his wife Mary (29) lived with their two young children and Harry’s brother Isaac (35), also a draper. The Mendel’s employed a 55-year-old female servant named Mary-Anne McCormack.

Mendel, who was born four years after the census was taken, 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!)

Optical instrument. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Sign from first floor. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

Original Eye now in storage. Credit – Sam McGrath (CHTM!)

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!).

Inspector John Mills became the first crown forces fatality since the Easter Rising after he was struck with a hurley by a member of Na Fianna Éireann outside the burnt out shell of Liberty Hall on 10 June 1917.

A photograph of the protest meeting at Beresford Place, and the arrest of Count Plunkett. June 1917. Credit – Keogh Photographic Collection, NLI.

Born in 1866, Millis from Dysart, Co. Westmeath, joined the Dublin Metropolitan Police at the age of 20. He was promoted to Sergeant in 1901 to Station Sergeant in 1908 and finally to Inspector in 1916.

In 1911, the family were living at 47 Leinster Street just off the Phibsboro Road as you come to Cross Guns Bridge (formerly Westmoreland Bridge). John and his Kilkenny-born wife Margaret lived with their three children – Florence (13), Ralph (8) and Hilda (6) – who were all in school. Teresa Gangan (22), a Book Keeper from Meath, and Donnchadh O’Duighneáin (29), a Civil Servant from Cork, were boarders in the Mills home. (It is interesting to note that this Protestant DMP Inspector was happy to let a boarder stay in his house who was a fluent Irish speaker and who spelt his name in Gaelic)

On 10 June 1917, Cathal Brugha and Count Plunkett led a group of around 2,000 Sinn Féin supporters into Beresford Place for a meeting called to protest against the detention and treatment of Easter Rising volunteers in Lewes Jail in East Essex, England. As Brugha began to address the crowd, Inspector John Mills and a detail of officers approached and declared the meeting illegal. Brugha and Plunkett ignored the order and scuffles broke out. The police attacked the crowd with batons and the two speakers were arrested.

A photograph of the protest meeting at Beresford Place, and the arrest of Count Plunkett. Credit – Keogh Photographic Collection, NLI.

As Mills was escorting Brugha and Plunket to nearby Store Street Police Station, sections of the crowd tried to break the men free. In the struggle, Mills was hit over the head with a hurley. This one blow proved fatal and he later died from his wounds in hospital.

A number of Bureau of Military History (BMH) Witness Statements (WS) refer to the assailant as a member of Na Fianna Éireann and of the so-called Surrey House clique. This was the term given to a number of Fianna boys who used to meet regularly at Countess Markievicz’s house in Leinster Road, Rathmines.

Seamus Pounch of Na Fianna Éireann who fought in Jacobs Biscuit Factory during the Easter Rising and was later Brigade Adjutant of the Dublin Brigade of the IRA was there on that day in Beresford Place. He wrote in his Witness Statement (no. 294) that:

The escape of the striker was covered by a companion who had an automatic to keep the police at a safe distance; one policeman who was gaining on them in Abbey Street would have met a serious accident only he fell at the sight of the gun and it had jammed.

The bloody conflict of the 1913 lockout that occurred only four years previously was still on people’s mind at the time as it was still on the mind of Seamus Pounch when he wrote his account in the late 1940s:

This (action) avenged the death of our comrade killed by by a blow of a police baton in the 1913 strike riots. This lad was kept in hiding amongst the clique and defied all attempts of arrest, and even big police rewards posted around the country had no results.

A number of female Republicans were asked to help the hide the boy from the authorities. Maeve Cavanagh of the Irish Citizen Army recalls in her Witness Statement (no. 258) that she was

asked to take charge of a wanted man, and bring him to another house. We did all we could do to alter his appearance and I brought him safely to the house. He was never got. Of course murder was never intended at all. It was a blow struck in the heat of a fight.

Others recalled that the boy’s blow was not meant to kill. Rose McNamara of Cumann na mBan in Witness Statement (no. 482) said:

We knew the lad who dealt the blow. He had no intention of killing the Inspector and we prayed hard that he would not be caught and he was not.

Another woman who helped the boy get safely to America was Aine Ceant (widow of Eamon) of Sinn Fein and Cumann na mBan. She wrote in her Witness Statement (no. 264) that her:

… sister Lily arrived home and told me about the incident. She had scarcely taken her tea when a message came that she was wanted to take charge of the Fianna boy who did this deed, and that she was to bring him to a place of safety. Lily O’Brennan went, took charge of the Fianna boy, linked him along and discovered to her horror that she was well acquainted with him, which would have put her in an awkward position, had she been called to give evidence of the incident. The boy was subsequently got away to America.

Garry Holohan (WS no. 336) names the boy who struck Inspector Mills as ‘Eamon Murray’. I though initially that this was the same person known as ‘Ernie Murray’, listed as Company Commander of No. 3 Company (Inchicore area) of Na Fianna in the August 1915 to April 1916 period, but I don’t think this is the case now. See below for more details.

Seamus Reader (IRB and Na Fianna Glasgow) recalled in his Witness Statement (no. 627) that Eamon Murray came over to Scotland with a number of Dublin Na Fianna boys in late 1915 to help their counterparts over there organise some a raid. In January 1916, Murray and Seamus Reader (no. 1767) traveled to Glasgow on a gun-running trip. They returned to Dublin via Belfast with 10 revolvers, 100 rounds of ammuntion 100 detonators, 20 feet of fuse and 7 lbs. of explosives.

During the Easter Rising, Murray was one of 30-40 people who took part in the Magazine Fort attack.

After the killing of Mills in June 1917 and before he was sent to America, Murray was hid briefly in Countess Markievicz’s house in Leinster Road, Rathmines.

Undated photograph of Fianna Eireann scouts with Countess Markievicz and little girl. Credit – Keogh Photographic Collection, NLI

When she was arrested, he was taken into the care of Miss Dulcibella Barton (no. 936) at her house in Annamoe, County Wicklow. Here, he slept in “a summer house in the Garden as the house was full”. However he got appendicitis but recovered to full health and then was able to make his way to America.

Murray was sheltered in America until the Truce in 1921 . He then returned to Ireland and fought with the anti-Treaty IRA during the Civil War. Garry Holohan states that he then joined the “Civic Guards” (Garda Síochána) which seems odd as only a few years had passed since he had killed a police officer. I assume a number of Inspector Mill’s colleague’s would been in the ranks of the Garda Síochána at this stage which would have certainly made things awkward.

Murray then “lost his reason” according to Holohan and at the time of writing his statement in 1950, he noted that Murray was currently a patient of Grangegorman Hospital. This is where the trail ends.

During my research, I did come across a journalist named Ernie Murray who was involved in the Na Fianna and died in 1973. See obituary below:

Ernie Murray (IT, 27 Jan 1973)

This doesn’t sound like a man who suffered some sort of mental brekadown sometime in the 1930s or 1940s and was an inmate of  St. Brendan’s psychiatric hospital in Grangegorman. by 1950. So it looks likely in fact that Eamon Murray and Ernie Murray were both separate volunteers with Na Fianna in Dublin in the same period.

If you have anymore information on Eamon Murray or photographs of either himself or Inspector John Mills, please get in touch.

Last year, a small group of us went on two rambles up the Dublin Mountains. The first was to the historic and spooky Hellfire Club.

CHTM! at Hellfire Club, Jan 2013.

Here is a lovely aerial shot of the ruined hunting lodge that has been a source for all sorts of sordid tales for hundreds of years:

Hellfire Club. Credit – source.southdublinlibraries.ie.

The second trip (in tough snowy conditions) was to the spot where the mutilated body of Captain Noel Lemass (anti-Treaty IRA) was found in October 1923.

CHTM! and friends at Noel Lemass memorial plaque, January 2013.

We went on our first ramble of the year this month. Our journey took us from Rathfarnham up to the small plaque to mark where the body of Honor Bright was found in 1925, to Lamb Doyles in Sandyford at the foot of then Dublin Mountains and finally to The Blue Light in Barnacullia.

Our group of five met in Rathfarnham on what turned out to be a beautiful Saturday afternoon. One of the sunniest days of the month so far. We walked up through Kingston housing estate, crossed the M50 motorway and onto the Blackglen Road. Taking a sharp right onto Ticknock Road, we located the small plaque marking the place where the body of Honor Bright (real name Lily O’Neill), shot through the heart, was found on June 9th 1925.

Small plaque. Photograph – Sam (CHTM!)

Lily, originally from County Clare, lived at 48 Newmarket in the Liberties and worked as a prostitute in the vicinity of the Shelbourne Hotel on Stephen’s Green. A mother of a young child, it was rumoured that she was forced to turn to prostitution after she was fired from her job for having a child out of wedlock. On the night of her murder, she was seen outside the Shelbourne talking to two men in a grey sports car. These were later identified as Dr. Patrick Purcell from Blessington, Co. Wicklow and a former Garda Superintendent, Leo Dillon from Dunlavin, Co. Wicklow. It was reported in the press that Dillon had served with both the British Army and Free State army.

That night, Dr. Purcell claimed to a number of people that he had been robbed earlier of £11 by a prostitute and that he was out looking for her. It was repeated in the newspapers that he told a cab driver that “‘if he got her he would put a gun through her mouth … (and) if he did not get her, some other girl would fall a victim”. One of the last people to see Lily alive was a taxi driver Ernest Woodroffe who came forward and said that he had dropped her to Leonard’s Corner, about ten minutes walk from her house, just after 2:30am. As the cab driver headed back towards the Green, he saw the distinct grey sports car drive past him, towards where he had just left the girl.

From Sunday Independent, 7th July 1925.

Her body was found in the foothills of the Dublin Mountains at 7am. In an era when cars were scarce, the sports car was quickly traced to Dr Purcell who admitted being in the city on the evening Lily  was murdered with Leo Dillon. The latter of which eventually admitted that he had ‘been with her’ that night but said he had last seen her getting into a taxi at St Stephen’s Green and driving off.

Although the taxi driver testified that he had seen Purcell’s car in the vicinity of Leonard’s Corner after dropping Lily and a Garda said he saw Purcell and Dillon with Lily speaking beside the grey sports car in Harold’s Cross later that night, the jury believed that there were a lack of sufficient evidence and acquitted the two men in just three minutes.

From Sunday Independent, 30th July 1925.

Folk singer Peter Yeates wrote and recorded a song in memory of ‘Honor Bright’ in the early 1980s.

In December 2006, the following post was left by ‘Markao’ on a folk music lyrics site:

Honor Bright … left behind a son (Kevin Barry aged 5). The son was not mentioned in the police investigation or the trial. He left Eire aged 19, fought in the war, married a German girl in Wales, had 9 children of whom I’m number 5.

What became of the two accused? A poster (‘PLH’) on Boards.ie who said that she was also a granddaughter of Lily O’Neill wrote in July 2009 that:

Various stories have been offered about (Dillon’s) later life, for example, some say he traveled to the USA and committed suicide or was killed on disembarking. Others say he committed suicide in Ireland.

Partick Purcell was ostracised in Blessington after the trial and local shops refused to serve his wife. He found work as a doctor in Kent, England. Later his son of the same name also became a doctor, and he is now retired.

Poster ‘PLH’ also revealed some interesting information about the plaque that is located on a wall outside “Capilano” house on Ticknock Road.  Rumour has it that the plaque installation was commissioned by the previous occupier of the house who had lived there since the murder. Prior to the plaque there was a small cross carved in to the wall stone sometime after the event. That stone was replaced by a ‘clean’ one and again shortly afterwards a further cross was carved.

The 5 Lamps Dublin Brewery brought out an ale called ‘Honour Bright’ last year. Picture – untappd.com.

We then walked up to the short distance to Lamb Doyle’s pub. Opened in 1832 (according to one source), this large pub on the Blackglen Road, Sandyford was opened by a man with, as you can probably guess, the surname Doyle. As this was such a common name in the area, he needed a nickname. Described as a big man with a white beard, he had a very gentle demeanor – ‘as gentle as a lamb’ and so was called Lamb Doyle. The name stuck.

If you’re interested, other nicknames for Doyles in the Barnacullia area included:

Big Joe’s, Butler, Club, Cricket, Daddy, Dancer, Darby, Dooce or Douche, Dresser, Drummer, Fay, Feck or Fecker, Flier, Fogey, Fugs, Fussey, Gigger, Gipser, Gombo, Good Chap, Hearseman, Kipper, Luby, Mare, Matt, Nailer, Obetha, Power, Sandy, Shop, Slaney, Spiro, Straight, Sweeney, Tango, Tipper, Tosser, Turk, Wave, Willy.

Speaking of lambs, publican Dessie Hynes told author Bill Barich (‘A Pint of Plain’, 2010) that Lamb Doyles used to be popular with sheep ranchers and he often saw one particular farmer in the pub order a baby brandy and apply a “splash of it to the lips of any lamb in distress”.

Irish painter William Orpen, who used to frequent the pub often with his friend Oliver St. Gogarty, wrote in about 1911:

The view from the Lamb Doyle’s pub on a Summer’s morning as you sit in the shade on a bench outside the house and look back over the bay with Dublin on the left and Howth, Ireland’s Eye and Lambay behind, on the right, Kingstown, Dalkey and Bray Head, all of them in the blaze of the midday sun! The sweet smell of the country in your nostrils, a cigarette in your mouth, and your glass behind you. Truly you could feel life in all its’ glory.

From this period until the 1960s, the pub was a traditional country pub. The bar also served as the local grocery shop. Its floor was covered with sawdust and in winter there was a blazing fire of gorse.

Throughout this time, at weekends parties drove out from the city in horse drawn traps, sidecars, charabancs and then private cars to enjoy the mountain scenery and make use of the bonafide facilities. A bona fide house utilised a legal loophole, dating back to early coaching days, that allowed a genuine bonafide traveler three miles (five in Dublin) from his place of residence to drink alcohol outside normal hours. As Lamb Doyle’s is about eight miles outside the city, it was a popular place for revelers to travel to when the regular pubs in the city closed at 11pm.

It became something of a ‘hip’ spot in the 1960s. Spurred on obviously by an increase in private car ownership and people’s access to disposable income. In a column entitled ‘Dublin by Night’ in Trinity News (10 November 1966), the unnamed writer said that “winey nights for the really well-heeled are best enjoyed at Lamb Doyle’s or the Wicklow Hills hotel”.

Lamb Doyle’s, 1969. Credit – Brand New Retro

A 1969 advertisement in ‘Publin  – a selective guide to the pubs of Dublin’ promoted its:

de-luxe restaurant restaurant upstairs (booking essential in the season) with a dancefloor downstairs and down below comfortable bars with discreet comfortable television

After being taken over by Crosspan Properties in 1979, a £100,000 redevelopment followed. It was bought by the owner of Scruffy Murphy’s in 1992 for £750,000. A 2006 plan to demolish the premises and rebuild 41 apartments, two shops and a new pub on the site was rejected An Bord Pleanála. This was the second attempt by the Morton family to gain planning permission to build a scheme of a similar size.

Lamb Doyles today. Credit – yelp.ie

Without trying to sound too harsh, I think it is fair to say that Lamb Doyle’s heyday was in the 1960s and 1970s. The decor doesn’t seem to have changed much though and that is certainly not a compliment. The yellow walls had a incoherent display of Asian imagery, second-rate paintings of flowers and advertisements offering 3 pints of Tuborg for a bargain €10. Never usually a good sign.

The over-priced food was unexceptional, the clueless staff got one simple food order mixed up and the bland Guinness was not cheap at €4.70. While reading up that the present owners tried to demolish the place twice back in 2006, it’s not surprising perhaps that they aren’t as interested in the current set-up as they might have used to be.

We then made our way up the hill through the small, scattered village of Barnacullia to the Blue Light pub. Éamonn Mac Thomáis in his book ‘Janey Mack Me Shirt Is Black’ (1982) reckoned that in early part of the 20th century, there were “at least three hundred stone workers” in the village. Their craftmanship can be still seen in the masonry of cottages, walls and gate piers in the area. The quarry at Barnacullia, famous for its County Dublin granite, was used for many landmark buildings including Mullingar Cathederal, Cavan Cathedral and the Department of Industry & Commerce and the Department of Transport on Kildare Street.

In 1917, Irish Volunteer 1st Lieutenant Andrew McDonell (BMH WS 1768) was sent to organise the areas of “Ticknock, Barancullia and Glencullen”. He describes how Ticknock had to be “treated as a separate unit” as there was a feud going back over 50 years between the villages of Ticknock and Barancullia. Initially, as he was a ‘City man’, he was not trusted by some of the mountain men but one specific event changed all that:

Andrew McDonell BMH WS 1768, p. 28

On our way to the Blue Light, we had a brief look for the ruins of Countess Markievicz’s cottage but could not find it.

Countess Markievicz’s cottage. From Patrick Healy’s ‘Rathfarnham Roads’ (2005)

Patrick Healy wrote in his brilliant ‘Rathfarnham Roads’ (2005):

A short distance to the east and approached by a narrow lane is the remains of the house which was occupied by Countess Markievicz up to the time of the 1916 Rising. This cottage was taken by Countess Markievicz about 1907 and was visited by many whose names were later to become by-words in the national movement. During Easter Week 1916, the wife and children of James Connolly stayed here. The cottage was occupied down to about 1945 when the last tenant was moved to a council house. It was then condemned and the roof removed. A committee was later formed to restore the cottage as a memorial to the Countess but when they were informed that they would be required to rebuild the walls, the project was abandoned.

We then followed the road up to The Blue Light which stands 1,700 feet above sea level.

View from Blue Light, January 2013. Credit – Sam (CHTM!)

Opened in c. 1870, the pub was formerly used as a private ‘lighthouse’ for Dublin Bay smugglers. Signals from the pub, including their blue window blinds, were visible miles out to sea and formed an important part of the elaborate intelligence network of martime smugglers who smuggled cargoes of brandy, wine, laces and fine silk past the Revenue-cutters of the Crown. Another story suggests that when the duty officials in Dunlaoghaire Harbour clocked off, a light signal would be sent to this premises.  A signal would then be sent back out to the bay using an old blue ships lantern to let sea smugglers know that the ‘coast was clear’.

Bought for £300 in 1915 by a Mr. Walsh, he passed the pub onto his brother (known as the The Blue Light Man) and then onto his nephew Dick Walsh who put it up for auction in the late 1970s.

The Blue Light, 1979. Credit – The Irish Times (13 July 1979)

On a side not, apparently it’s the last pub in Dublin that still sells turf!

For our first visit, we had a couple of pints in the lounge area at the back. When you come to the entrance, you take a right go into a room with a lovely fire and then it’s to your left. The service was great and the pints of Guinness at €4.20 were gorgeous. You could tell the place hasn’t changed in years, in a good way, and the decor was like a mini Aladdin’s Cave. Reminded us a little bit of the Hacienda and Frank Ryan’s.

We then headed for a ramble that brought us up the Dublin Mountains where there were spectacular views of the city.

Overlooking Dublin. Photo from transmitter, Three Rock. Jan 2013. Credit – Sam (CHTM!)

It was dark by the time we got back to the Blue Light. We decided to try out the bar this time around. Its entrance is straight ahead when you walk up the steps to the pub. This was dominated by locals and there were fascinating pictures on the walls of Barnacullia tug-of-war games and social events dating back to the 1910s. It felt like someone’s living room and the roaring fire soon warmed everyone up.

Highlighting once again that Dublin is such a small place, we bumped into Tommy Graham (History Ireland), his nephew and his nephew’s friend in the pub. After a couple more lovely pints (with Tommy selflessly abstaining), he kindly dropped us all back into the city centre.

Another great day out and we’re looking forward already to our next Ramble in a couple of months time.

While Ireland’s first reggae band was without doubt Zebra (1979-80), a number of pop and rock bands recorded songs with ska and reggae influences in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Some were absolutely awful, others mediocre, while a handful were just about listenable. This is an attempt to compile an accurate list of those records.

1969 was the year of the skinhead reggae explosion in England. Desmond Dekker & The Aces’s single ‘Israelites‘ reached the UK No. 1 spot in April. Other significant singles released that year included ‘Monkey Man‘ by Toots & The Maytals and Symarip’s ‘Skinhead Moonstomp‘ which was aimed specifically at the British reggae-loving skinhead audience.

That same year an Irish showband called The Fairways from Edenderry, Co. Offaly, on the go since 1966, released a novelty ska-influenced single “sung in a cod West Indies accent”. Titled ‘Yoko Ono’, after the Japanese artist who married John Lennon that year, the lyrics concern a man’s attempt to to find transport to bring him to a plantation where Yoko is waiting for him. The song opens with:

Mister, can you help me?
Can I get to Skaville?
Anyone going? My way
Anyone leaving? Today

In Dublin in the early 1970s, as revealed by Garry O’Neill in his book Where Were You?, skinheads danced to reggae in clubs called Bartons and Mothers, both on Parnell Street, and Two Ages on Burgh Quay. The scene also opened its own short-lived club, the Boot Inn, in a basement on Middle Abbey Street.

London-based Jamaican reggae band The Cimarons became the first international reggae act to play Ireland, playing their first Irish gig in the Exam Hall in Trinity College in April 1978. This was followed by the Macroom Festival in Cork in June of that year and further dates around the country in 1979. Journalist Kieran Flynn wrote in Magill magazine that:

Reggae has never been a particularly popular form of music in Ireland, but the Macroom audience response suggests that the Cimarons will be back here soon.

Eamonn over at Irishrock.org describes that Belfast-band Dirtywork (pre-Katmandu) released a “reggae version” of the ‘Rose of Tralee’ in 1976. You’ll have to make up your own mind about that.

Early 1979 saw the release of the debut album ‘Infammable Material‘ from Belfast punks Stiff Little Fingers. It included a punky reggae cover of Bob Marley’s ‘Johnny Was‘:

The Bogey Boys, pub-rock band from Dublin/Meath, released their debut album ‘Friday Night’ in October 1979. One song ‘Gunslinger’ was vaguely reggae-influenced.

1979 also saw the release of Ireland’s first real single. ‘Repression’ by Zebra which was brought out by Terri Hooley’s Belfast-based ‘Good Vibrations‘ label.

Con O’Leary ran the reggae Operator Sound System from 1979-83, playing venues like the TV Club and McGonagles. If you have anymore information, please get in touch.

A genuine Dublin-based Two-Tone band ‘The Mod-Ls‘ were on the go from 1979-80 but never recorded anything. Same with the Fast Skirts (1980-81), who played straight punk and straight reggae, whose personnel included two former Mod-L’s members.

The Mod-Ls (Irishrock.org)

The first incarnation (c.1980) of Dun Laoghaire group ‘Nine Out Of Ten Cats‘ was heavily reggae/funk influenced and they supported many visiting reggae acts to Dublin including Matumbi and Prince Far I. Their recorded material (1983 onwards) however was all post-punk.

In 1980, Dublin band The Resistors released a catchy new-wave Two-Tone influenced single called ‘Jeanie’ on their debut EP.

That same year The Boomtown Rats released ‘Banana Republic’ which had a tight ska-reggae hook and lyrically rallied against the ills of nationalist, conservative Ireland:

And I wonder do you wonder while you’re sleeping with your whore?
Sharing beds with history is like licking runnin’ sores
Forty shades of green yeah, sixty shades of red
Heroes going cheap these days, price a bullet in the head
Banana Republic, Septic Isle Sufferin’ in the screamin’ sea, sounds like dyin’
Everywhere I go, yeah everywhere I see
The black and blue uniforms, Police and Priests

The album version (below) is over a minute and a half longer than the single itself.

Bob Marley played Dalymount Park, Dublin in July 1980, bringing reggae to the Irish masses.

Irish showband The Magic Band (1974-81) from Galway released ‘I Am A Cannibal’ in 1981 which was described by Neil from rockroots.wordpress.com as a “pretty decent and annoyingly catchy reggae-pop tune with some nice musicianship”.

The same year Irish showband Sunshine released the single ‘Double Dealin, described by Eamonn at Irishrock.org as “pop with reggae/ska overtones”.

Also in 1981, Rascal released ‘Scrambled Reggae’ on EMI Records. Described as a “one off ska/2tone novelty single”, there is some audio available here but I haven’t heard the full version.

Galway pop group The Conquerors brought out a reggae-influenced b-side called ‘Getting Out’ in 1981.

Decisions Decisions from Dublin brought out their one and only pop-reggae single the same year. This is the b-side.

Cork’s Jimmy Crowley & The Electric Band recorded a reggae version of ‘Boys of Fair Hill’ which spent some time in the charts in 1981.

The Outfit, new-wave reggae from Limerick, released the first of their two singles in 1981. A-Side ‘El Salvador’ was a topical song about the Salvadoran Civil War.

The first single ‘Surprise Surprise’ by Belfast punk band Big Self was heavily reggae-influenced. This was also released in 1981.

1982 saw the formation of pop-reggae group Alien Comfort from Finglas who recorded a demo which hasn’t seen the light of day yet.  They were active until 1984. Reggae-funksters Belsonic Sound from Cork started their careers in 1982 and ploughed on till 1993 releasing a string of singles from 1988 onwards.

Thurles pop-rock band Tweed (1972-84) released a reggae-influenced b-side ‘Horse’s Collar’ in 1983.

Street Talk from Dublin released their first single ’1-2-3′ in 1983. It spent 10 weeks in the Irish charts. Eamon from Irishrock.org described the band as “new-wave pop-rock with reggae styling and a strong lead singer”.

1983 also saw the release of Limerick band’s The Outfit’s second single (Toytown/ A Sharp). If anyone has a MP3 of this, please drop me a mail.

Comedian Jon Kenny, former bassist and lead singer with Limerick group Gimik, released a surprisingly catchy reggae version of ‘Spancil Hill’ in 1984.

Though not an Irish group, Century Steel Band from Coventry recorded a reggae version of ‘The Fields of Athenry’ in 1985 which charted over here in the summer of 1986. They also toured Ireland extensively. The band recorded with Dublin group The Wilf Brothers in 1990.

The Blades, new wave soul from Dublin, dabbled with a reggae sound with ‘Talk About Listening’ from their 1985 album ‘The Last Man In Europe’.

Too Much For The Whiteman, from Tuam, started performing in 1985 and released three singles from 1989-90. None of which are online yet. The same year Keltic Posse formed and toured extensively until around 1994.

Postscript:

The late 1980s/early 1990s saw a major ska and skinhead revival with Irish bands Trenchtown (estd. 1988), The Jackmans aka Frères Jackman & the International Elevators (estd. 1989), The Gangsters (estd. 1992), The Service from Cork (estd. 1993) and others like The Umbrellas and The Officials.

There were also bands reggae bands ‘Kingsativa’ (1995 – 2005), ‘New Roots’, ‘Zero’, ‘Burning Illusion’ around this time as well but for most of them, there’s little or no information available online.

We look further into the above bands in part two of the piece.

If I’ve missed anyone, please get in touch.

We were very sorry to hear that Dublin guitarist and graphic designer Billy Morley has passed away. During his career, he played with The Radiators From Space, Revolver, The Defenders, The Teen Commandments and Lucky Bones.

Morley in action. Posted by Eamon Carr (@carrtogram) with the following “Another good man down. Billy Morley talented guitarist & designer All round good guy R.I.P. #DublinHero”.

As first reported by Hot Press, Billy began his career in the early to mid 1970s as a guitarist with New York Dolls style glam-punk outfits ‘Bent Fairy and The Punks’ and ‘Greta Garbage and the Trash Cans’. The latter band also featured both Steve Averill and Pete Holidai, later of The Radiators From Space.

Billy then went onto play with Revolver (1977-79), one of the top bands in Dublin’s emerging punk rock scene.

Back of ‘Silently Screaming’ 7inch. Scanned by ‘lastpost’ (45cat.com)

The group released two singles on the Rockborough label, ’Silently Screaming’ (June 1978) and ‘You Won’t Know What Hit You’.

Overlapping this period slightly, Billy took up the post of second guitarist with The Radiators from Space from approximately September 1978 to March 1979. He joined the post ‘Ghosttown’ tour but didn’t play on the record itself. In a separate Hot Press piece today, Steve Averill called Billy:

… perhaps, the most underrated guitarist of his generation and was extremely modest about his talent, as well as being incredibly shy about performing on a stage – something that held him back from achieving his due. He had a real natural talent that all those who played with him recognised

In late 1979, Billy was involved with the short-lived group The Defenders, formed to help Heat fanzine pay legal costs to U2′s manager Paul McGuinness.

Issues 2 – 5 of Heat fanzine. Credit – brandnewretro.

McGuiness had objected to an article entitled “McGuinness (Isn’t) Good For U2′” in Vol. 2, No. 2 of the magazine which accused him of using back-handed tacits to ensure that U2 got a prestigious support slot at a gig in Trinity College, bumping a rival band from the bill. The story was later proved to be wrong. Decan Lynch in the Irish Independent wrote about the incident at length back in 2006.

The Defenders line up, along with Billy, included:

- Eamon Carr and Johnny Fean of Horslips
- Steve Averill and Mark Megaray of The Radiators
- Frankie Morgan of Sacre Bleu
- Gary Eglington of The Noise Boys, and later The Zen Alligators.

Heat fanzine was co-owned by Jude Carr (Eamon’s brother) and Pete Price and was one of the most well-respected and well-designed punk fanzines in the 1977-79 period. A benefit gig in the National Stadium was organised for 25th July which was followed by a single released on Guided Missile Records, a label owned by Jude Carr and Karl Tsigdinos, a DJ and graphic designer with Hot Press. Unfortunately, the magazine folded despite these efforts.

In 1981, Billy played on the Teen Commandment‘s first single ‘Private World’. A great powerpop band formed by Philip Byrne (ex. Revolver) in 1979 that originally featured Dave Maloney (ex. The Vipers) on drums. Pete Holdai of the Radiators produced their work.

Billy, a very talented illustrator and graphic designer, went onto work for a number of advertising agencies in Dublin and Hot Press magazine for a short period. This was followed by a long career in RTE’s graphics department.

I came across two reviews of pubs in the city from magazine ‘In Dublin’. Both from 1977. This issue (no. 34, Aug 1977) reviewed:

- Mulligans, Poolbeg Street
- Davy Byrne’s, Duke Street
- Kehoe’s, South Anne Street
- Grogan’s, South William Street
- Dohney and Nesbitt, Baggot Street
- Toner’s, Lower Baggot Street

Pub review. In Dublin 1977. (Credit – David Denny2008)

Later in the year, issue (no. 40, Nov 1977) reviewed:

- Bruxelles, Harry Street
- The International Bar, South William Street

Pub review 2. In Dublin 1977. (Credit – David Denny2008)

Nearly forty years later and all those pubs are still there. Most of them probably haven’t changed that much. Except for the price of course.

I also stumbled upon this lovely photo of O’Connell’s on South Richmond Street in Portobello. One of my favourite pubs in the city. At a guess, I’d say it was taken in the 1960s.

J. O’Connells, Sth. Richmond St. (Credit – whiskiesgalore.blogspot.ie)

Also this snap of Doyles, then called The College Inn with The Fleet attached, on College Green opposite Trinity. It’s a great shot with red car flying past and yer man in the sheepskin jacket waiting to cross.

The College Inn (now Doyles) in 1978, College Green. (Credit – dublincitypubliclibraries.com)

Noel Lemass, Captain of the 3rd Battalion, Dublin Brigade IRA, had a short but eventful life. He fought in the Imperial Hotel during the Easter Rising of 1916 and was wounded while taking dispatches to the GPO. He later played an active role in the War of Independence (1919-1921) and joined the occupation of the Four Courts after taking the anti-Treaty side in the Civil War.

Noel Lemass in uniform. Credit – http://irishvolunteers.org

In July 1923, two months after the Civil War had ended, Noel was kidnapped in broad daylight by Free State soldiers. Three months later, on 13th October, his mutilated body was found on the Featherbed Mountain twenty yards from the Glencree Road, in an area known locally as ‘The Shoots’. It was likely that he was killed elsewhere and dumped at this spot.

There are many amusing anecdotes of his military career in the Witness Statements. One of my favourites is from Andrew McDonnell (BMH WS 1768) who was an officer with the Irish Volunteers and then the IRA in Dublin from 1915 to 1924. He said Noel Lemass had the:

the distinction of being the only man in the Dublin Brigade ever to commandeer a tram. Always looking for action, and willing to go anywhere to take part in a scrap, I mentioned to him once about an attack coming off, on the Naval Base, Dun Laoghaire. This was something that appealed to him, and it was arranged that she should be in Dun Laoghaire, about 10.30pm, on a fixed night. He was then attached to the 3rd Battalion. The day arrived, and Noel made frantic efforts to contact me – could we wait for him until 11 p.m. as a dinner dance, or some such, would delay him? 11 p.m. it would be, but not later. We were at the spot, on time. No sign of Noel. A tram came along, very quickly, and off stepped noel, complete in dinner jacket, coat and white scarf …

Lemass revealed to McDonnell that he had:

boarded the tram somewhere about Mount Street, going upstairs. As it got further out, passengers got fewer and fewer, until Noel was along on top, and, to this mind, progress was very slow. Slipping down the stairs, on to the driving platform, he told the driver to keep going, and fast. He did and Noel arrived on time, with the help of the conductor, who happened to be Jack Luby of the Dalkey Section.

One can only imagine the sight of Lemass, alighting of a near empty tram, decked out in dinner jacket and white scarf and ready to join an IRA attack on a British Naval Base in Dun Laoghaire.