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Our mutual friend
described this place.

I said, "What do you think?
You know, are you going to miss it?"

And he said,
"Ah, it was just perfect."

"It was just perfect."

I think I fell in love
with Dublin

when I started coming in here.

It was a place where musicians
were welcome but the...

the musicians felt welcome.

Yeah.

And that they could come in here
and just play

and listen to other musicians
without any pressure to perform

or anything like that.

You see the best musicians
in the country, in the world,

coming in here, and not playing
at all, just listening, you know?

Yeah.

And, you know, it was just, just...
such a privilege.

And, you know, for people like, who
are not musicians, who love music,

to be sitting beside
the best there is.

Yeah.
You know, just...

what a privilege.

Aw, now, it's outstanding.
Well, you DO play music.

I remember at some stage,
you used to be sitting in here

and we'd be coaxing you.
Yeah!

And your modus operandi was,
kind of, every so often,

you'd kinda just...
the hand would kinda slip in

as if you're gonna take out a little
Derringer and shoot somebody, like!

And next thing this whistle would
come up and hit your thing there

and you'd be playing down this way.
And you have more music

in your little finger
than half the pub has in their...

Yeah... It was just a...

...a very humbling place to be.

And I would imagine maybe
the same for musicians as well.

And there was
an unspoken etiquette, you know?

Don't get in the way
of the session, you know.

Like, it was just an exercise in...
I don't know...

Courtesy.
Yeah.

But it was very funny
listening to Martin

because I asked him,
"How did you deal with that?"

And he said, "You know..." he said,
"there was a fella in here now

and he was beating the drum very,
you know...

so I just went down to him
and I said, 'Eh...

listen, would you put that away?
You're wrecking me head'!

He "suggested", you know?!
He hinted!

He hinted, yeah!

At home, if there was a session,
it was always the one.

There'd be music, and there'd be
dancing and there'd be singing,

and there'd be storytelling. It was
like a four-legged pot, like.

You had the whole thing.
Whereas they came up here,

there was the Goilin and there was
dancing maybe in the Teachers' Club

or in the Pipers' Club -
and sessions and such a thing.

But I think there was a kind
of a melting pot of them here.

♪ Come all ye broken-hearted ones

♪ and listen to my lay

♪ About a lovely damsel
as fair as this blest May

♪ Who's caused much tears and sorrow
and grief and heartfelt woe

♪ It's Kitty Quinn I'm speaking of

♪ The Pride of Pimlico...

♪ Well, just about a month ago

♪ unto this place she came

♪ And set our hearts a blazin'
up in love's undying flame

♪ And made of every other lass
about the place a foe

♪ Because she took their sweethearts

♪ did the Pride of Pimlico

♪ Poor Paddy Burke the tailor now
can't do a stroke of work

♪ Nor Billy Shee the handyman,
nor steady Jack McGurk

♪ And if you aks the reason,
they'll just answer you with

♪ "Oh, 'tis all because of
Kitty Quinn, the Pride of Pimlico

♪ There's Murphy the teetotaller,
he's gone upon the spree

♪ And Kehoe the whiskey drinker now
is taking milk in tea

♪ He's given up John Jameson
and likewise Power and Roe

♪ Because his heart's distracted
by the Pride of Pimlico

♪ Old Jimmy Kane the miser
that no one could get around

♪ And young Tom Ray who owns a forge
and near a hundred pound

♪ And Matt McCann whose father
keeps the Irish Waxwork Show

♪ Are raving night and day
about the Pride of Pimlico

♪ It's time the polis saw to it,
or it will be too late

♪ And divil a man in all the Coombe
will have a solid pate

♪ And soon beyond in Ridley's
a sight of awful woe

♪ You'll see ten thousand victims
of the Pride of Pimlico ♪

Good man, Barry!
Bravo! Lovely stuff.

Who wrote that?

Arthur Griffith. Yeah,
he wrote the words. It's lovely.

Lovely, eh... Unusual for Arthur
Griffith. You wouldn't expect it.

-Yeah.
- Most of his stuff
was very political.

Brilliant.
This is the centenary, is it?

Pardon?
Yeah, he died August 1922. So...

Kevin Conneff now, set it
to that traditional air, you know?

You wouldn't put it with
Arthur Griffith really. Brilliant.

No. It's on 'Chieftains 10'.
-Ah!
- Yeah.

Really?
So, em...

I think that's about
the best version I've heard of it,

with the two of you playing along!
The one we just did?!

Of course,
I don't listen to many versions!

Good stuff.

There's something decadent

about looking out
through a pub window at, you know...

A sunny day!..a sunny day,
the Four Courts. Look!

I often think when you'd see a guy

going for a jog outside,
you know, when you're inside,

and you think, "What a flippin'
eejit he is out there...

could be in here drinkin' pints!"

And then when you're out there
passing by and you look in,

you just say, "My God Almighty!
Wasters altogether!"

"What the hell
are they doin' in there?!"

It's a bit of a Maggie
Barry-type song, isn't it?

Yeah, you could imagine
her singing it alright.

That'd be a better version probably.

It would be.
A WAY better version,

especially the banjo playing on it.

Maggie was good alright!

You couldn't beat her!

That's me back in me box now.
That's grand!

Story of my life!
Little brother syndrome.

Yeah, you have to put up with that.
Ah, you have to.

SEAN McGINLEY: There are moments,
artistic moments in my life,

a lot of them happened in this pub.

You know, I've been in theatres
and I've been in...

I've seen exhibitions and then...
But some of the...

the most profoundly moving
artistic experiences of my life

were in here, in this bar.

All the sessions that...
They'd run for, for...

I mean Gay and Mary's,
was it 33 years on a Sunday night?

Yeah.
Um, Monday night,

there were 18, 19 years.

The lads, the guitar lads
on Wednesday night - Paul and Ray -

they were 15, 16 years.
I mean, they...

They just knew it was a space
they could come, do their thing,

and be left alone basically.
There was no football match blaring,

there was no DJ coming in at 10
o'clock: "Lads, you have to wrap".

There was nothing. Dad set a...
Yeah.

...he set a welcoming tone.
He did, yeah.

And the thing I learned
from him was: if things are flowing,

and people are having a good time,
and everyone's benefitting from it,

like, just get out of the way.
Don't put your oar in.

You create a space
for stuff to happen.

Some nights, nothing happens.
Some nights, it's average.

Some nights, it's magic.
But if you...

don't just leave that space there,
you won't get the magic.

Here we are again.

Here we are again.
Bit emotional isn't it?

That's what I'm gonna ask you about.
How do you feel?

It is quite an emotional thing,
isn't it?

It is emotional to walk back in
again after being away from it now

for the last two... two years,

and especially after the amount
of years we actually spent here.

Um... The only thing is when you
come in, you kind of picture back

a lot of the memories
that you've had

and a lot of the times, you know,
special times particularly.

Yeah.
It was just a way of life,

just a part of life.

I would have met Mary
when I was about 12.

So we've been probably playing music
since then together, you know?

So, um... this was like,

this was like the source
of everything for us, I suppose.

We'd come in here and it was,
you know...

Because we never knew
who else was going to come in,

the great diversity in the music
that you heard and we were so lucky.

Probably because it's in the centre
of the city, the pub,

people passing through
would come into Hughes's.

Yeah, yeah.
So we heard the best of music

from the time we were young to...

to now that we're all old ones,
like!

Hey, hey!
Speak for yourself!

Yeah.
Yeah. Yeah.

Marie, it's a thrill
to have you here:

mother of all the Hugheses. What's
your earliest memory of the pub?

I suppose, when I met Michael
over 50 years ago,

52 years actually,
we were together.

At that time, of course,
we didn't have the music

and it was very different
to what developed later, you know?

And what was the nature
of the pub then?

Just a place to drink and gather.

But it was an early house, right?
Oh, it was an early house, yes.

So you had the markets, the courts
then and all that.

Was that all happening
at that point?

Yes. You'd have queues at 6.30 in
the morning because we opened at 7.

Yeah.
And in actual fact,

if they didn't see the lights on
upstairs, they would be

pressing the bell and shouting:
"Mike! It's time to open up!"

Looking for a coffee, were they?!

On an average day here, you'd have
the market crowds in the mornings.

The place, at 7 a.m.,
would be packed.

They've all been working
through the night.

So the traders from the fish market,
the fruit market,

they'd all be in
and they'd still be doing deals.

There'd be wads of cash
going around.

It was like, um...
really bustling trade.

And the snug would be
full of Italians

the Italian traders
who ran chippers and all that...

and they'd be drinking their coffee
out of a glass.

Now, I've been
to a few chippers in my life.

I'm not sure I ever got
fruit and veg in an Italian chipper?

Potatoes.

Potatoes! Are they chips?
Potatoes for chips.

Apparently, they used to make chips
out of potatoes.

Well! Well... run me down!
You're welcome!

Maurice
McAuley's load of cauliflowers

left his farm near Skerries
before 5 o'clock in the morning.

Most of the vegetables
for the Dublin market

are grown in the area
north of the city.

It's all closed up now anyways.
Closed up a long time.

'Tis yeah. Who knows what's
going to happen to it but, um...

Wasn't the f...
Is this the fish market then?

Fish market was here
on the left-hand side

where this new building's
being built.

And, uh, you could go through
to the back of Hughes's pub here,

into that little cul-de-sac

which was right up
against the fish market. Yeah.

You could go straight through
like, from the fish market?

Yeah, from the front gate of it
way up on that street,

right down and out the back there
into Hughes's.

- In the back door?
- In the back door.
Yeah, you could!

I worked here
in the '70s when I was in college.

Eamonn was there, and his uncle
had the business there,

and he was very good to give us
work when we needed a few bob!

But, eh...
Yeah, I worked on and off.

I was trying to remember in the '70s
because my whole, my whole life

is a blur basically.

It'd be '76
when I worked there, '77.

I'd have been going back to college
as well then

'cause I remember going... I worked
for about a month or something

in it as well.

My Mary's father

remembers coming in on a horse
and cart from Rush

because they'd be bringing
all their fruit and veg in.

And they'd come in.
They'd be 20 miles out... Right.

bring the horse and cart into
the market. And so that's his memory.

That was a kind of a day off
for him, to come in with his da.

You know, on the horse and cart.
Yeah.

In 1862,
it was decided to provide

a market for Dublin
but nothing happened for 30 years.

It was in 1892 that the Dublin fruit
and vegetable market was set up

so that provisions for the city
could be sold

in orderly and hygienic conditions.

It's quite an operation, isn't it?
Yeah.

So that'd be from
about 7 o'clock.

So Hughes's was the early start?
Hughes's was an early house, yeah.

That's a city licence...
Yeah.

...that they were allowed to open
early. So it was a special licence.

There'd be a number of them
around the Capel Street area.

And it's all to do with this
place... Yeah.

...and the fish markets.
The fish markets yeah.

So they had a special licence to
open at 7 o'clock in the morning.

What's going to happen to
- it?
-Who knows?

Gonna be a fruit market again,
completely refurbished

the whole building,
and then it's gonna be refurbished

for fruit and veg.

Again?
Bit of an English Market.

Oh right. Specialist.
Gonna be a lovely job, yeah.

- That'll be fantastic.
- My sister used
to work here a long time ago.

Yeah?
Your sister?

They used to have the prams,
and then bring all the fruit up town

and sell it in Moore Street.
That's right.

And there was loads.
Loads and loads of them.

They're all dead and gone now but
they all had a good life, you know?

Had a good life.
Yeah, for sure, yeah.

God, it was a busy place,
wasn't it though?

This was a massive place.
Over there was a breakfast bar

where everyone got breakfast.
They'd come in to get their flowers.

They'd get everything in here.
Yeah.

The place was alive from four
in the morning.

We're out of here the 8th April,
and then it's county council.

They're coming in
and they're gonna blitz the place.

So this is the last time we'll see
- it like this?
-Yeah.

God, we got lucky didn't we!
Jeez, fair dues to you!

Thanks for letting us in. Brilliant.

You want to have a selfie, Brendan?
Of course, yeah.

Might as well have one with you.
You're looking well, Brendan!

You're looking well yourself!
Doing great work.

Listen, thanks a million.
That was brilliant now.

Jeez, that was unexpected.
Thanks a lot.

Anyone asks, you didn't see me.
No, I didn't see you

Any Saturday morning in the next
couple of weeks, I'll be here.

Yous can come in anytime.
We've only got the couple of days

so this is amazing. Brilliant.
- Perfect.
- Great to meet ya anyway.

-Yeah you too.
- Brilliant.
God Bless. Thank you very much.

Cool, isn't it?

Who are the fab four?

Eh, they're Pillow Queens.
They're an Irish band

and their album's coming out
in a couple of weeks.

Brilliant! Jesus, great stuff.

It's all going on here, isn't it?!

That's brilliant. Oh yeah, you were
saying the motor tax office...

The motor tax office is here, yeah.
You queued up in there to get...

You can see all the suits
will start to walk around as well...

Yeah... for the courts.
All the legal eagles.

I was a barrister
in the '90s,

and all the big criminal trials at
the time took place across the road.

So the guards, the solicitors, the
barristers and some of the parties

would be over here for lunch,
and especially in the snug...

lunchtime was bustling,
and the rumours and the discussion

and so on.
And it was it was an electric place.

The atmosphere was always electric.

So when you say "the parties", eh...
are you talking about criminals?

Well, sometimes yeah. I mean, it was
a mix and gathering of people.

You could find anybody. There was
all little nooks and crannies

in this place.
This was a neutral zone?

It was a neutral zone,
and it's exactly the same now

as it was then. There was no
pretensions. It was just a place

where you came in, you sat down,
you sat beside somebody,

and they took you as you were,
and you took them as they were

and that was it.
That was the great thing about it.

It's a pub that was old school
with personality of its own.

And that was the great thing
about it:

everybody was equal
when they came in here you know.

Good man.

There was so many
different times of day actually.

Like, the mornings
when the fish market was open,

you used to have everyone coming in
having their one-and-ones,

which was a glass with either tea or
coffee in it, and a shot of whiskey.

Right. That was a
- one-and-one?
- That was a one-and-one.

And then the courts
would start up

and you'd get all the barristers
and the cops and a few accused

but then the music sort of came in
and it changed it, just...

It changed the vibe of the place,
which was great

because it actually made it feel
more like a home away from home.

In the music community,
so many people,

when they come together,
that's their family, and...

you'd see, like different groups
all the time during the week

coming in and you'd have
sort of set dancers coming in.

That was their family gathering
for the week.

I remember the summer
- of '85.
-Yeah.

'Cause I remember the nights
here when Brendan started playing,

Brendan Begley.
We knew Brendan through

my mother's brother Vincent...

God rest him, he died.
He was married to Brendan's sister,

the singer Eileen Begley.

So Brendan started playing
a few tunes on a Monday night,

and within weeks,
the place was packed.

You talk about the bush telegraph...

Yeah!
...it took off like wildfire!

Faster!

I was only about 12 at the
time. I'd be out getting glasses.

The place would be heaving.
And the thing that really struck us

was that everyone knew each other.
It was like this instant party...

Yeah... and we're kinda goin',
"Who are these?"

You know, "What is this scene?"
You know, "Who are these people?"

And they all were great socialisers,
great, um...

They just loved music and chatting.
They were just a brilliant crowd.

Fun. And that's...
-And fun!
- Yeah.

And it was like a gift, you know,
because it kind of... um...

You don't know how anything's
going to turn out in a place.

No.
You can't... It's...

You can try to set a tone but,
sure, that never works, you know?

-Yeah.
- So the tone
that lands in a place,

you know, you never know
what you're going to get.

So, Brendan, you're the genesis
of all this carry-on

from what I hear! Is that true?

Well, as Sean Garvey used to say,

"If the cat had fish gills,
I'd get blamed for it!"

Well, I remember
in maybe around 1984,

Terry Moylan contacted me:
would I play for set dancers.

And I had got a scalding
from set dancers from competitions

and the arguments that ensued,
so I kind of gave him the slip.

He rang another time then
and he said, "Would we have a ceili

down at the Ormond Hotel?"
and I said "Who else is there?"

And he mentioned a few people
like Aidan Vaughan.

- Ah, lovely.
- Sure, I gave it a go.
I had a great night.

That summer of '85,

my sister and her husband
Vincent Loughnane,

he said "My sister has
a pub here called Hughes's

and they're trying to... They have
a fairly low trade at nighttime."

Yeah.
"All their business is daytime".

So we came in here on
a Monday night.

I think it was Gerry Bevan,
Steve Cooney and Vinnie Kilduff

and maybe seven or eight set dancers
from the Pipers' Club.

Yeah.
It kind of grew from there,

and it... it was fantastic.

'Twas the first pub in Dublin
that had set dancing.

People started coming in
on Tuesday nights then

and sometimes there was such
a crowd here,

there'd be another session inside
the snug, and the two would be going

and one wouldn't hear the other.
The place would be thronged.

Yeah.
I think what happened here

then was actually magical. It was
brilliant for music. I really do.

I think it was amazing for music,
to be honest with you.

And the other thing that was
great about here, especially for me,

like, I was playing with Brendan
so you'd have tunes from West Kerry.

Then Dermot with tunes from Donegal,
southwest Donegal,

all of Dermot's great tunes.
Mary McNamara was another one

who also played here so you had all
these East Clare tunes

and then I had my tunes
from Navan Road.

So it was a great melting pot,
meeting musicians

from different parts of the country.
It was great.

Its loss is hugely felt
in the city at the moment...

traditional musicians in the city
have very, very few options

of places to play where the music
is respected and understood,

and this was one of the places
where it was.

In the early '70s, mid '70s like,
there was folk clubs

every night of the week.
There was so many of Jthem.

Some nights, there was
two folk clubs going on in Dublin,

and that was kind of the way
till the early '80s or so.

Around that time, singers' clubs
started to pop up, like the Goilin,

and then the set dancing
started to become very popular

around the country
and here in the city.

So a lot of the people
who went to the gigs

ended up going to the singers' clubs
and set dancing clubs.

While it was great
to bring musicians in here,

it did a lot of harm as well
because, you know,

there was folk clubs in Slattery's.
They had a great folk club up there.

The Tradition Club.
The Tradition Club, yeah.

And I think it kind of killed
that off because people had to pay

going in there, whereas there was
great music happening here free.

Yeah, but there was a
change of scene anyway wasn't there?

There was a change of scene. That
change was coming, I think, anyway.

I remember going around Dublin,
myself and Mary, in the early '80s

on a St Patrick's Day and we
couldn't find anywhere with music.

I know! But it was hard.
A lot of pubs didn't want it,

- - sure they didn't?
- No.
- They thought it
was... There was no culture

of playing in pubs so playing music
in sessions in pubs

wasn't something I grew up...

I grew up playing music in
the Pipers' Club in Thomas Street.

It was very family-oriented.
The McKennas, the Mulligans...

all of us were there.
Also a lot of visitors.

Right.
If there's matches on in town,

they'd come from Tipperary
or Donegal or Sligo, wherever,

and they'd all visit the Pipers'
Club on a Saturday night.

But on Thomas Street, it was
sacrosanct that you listened,

you know, it was really important
that you listen.

And Mick, in his own way,
kind of developed that here.

So it was a really good fit for us
because we wanted to listen

as well as play.

There's a lack of social spaces,
like, in a real kind of a...

speaking about Dublin problems -

there's a lack of places
to sit down and not spend money

and be in other people's company
without having to buy something.

And, like, I know the whole idea of
a pub is that you buy a drink but...

It was kind of...

Yeah, and The Cobblestone
isn't really like that either.

You can sit down and drink a glass
of water over there if you want to

as long as you're playing a few
tunes. And there's not a whole lot

of other establishments around town
where you can do that.

GAY McKEON: We used to invite people
to come and sing

and often Frank Harte
would come in and sit up there

and even... I wouldn't be inclined
to play slow airs out in public

but he'd always ask me
so I got into the habit

of playing airs here on
a Sunday night if somebody asked me.

Or people would come in and dance,
you know, solo-dance,

maybe the odd time there'd be a set.

There might be festivals down
the country, and we'd always go home

and make it in here
'cause this was something different.

And this was a place

you could listen,
and appreciate good music.

You could hear the jokes
and the craic between tunes.

That's something
that was special here,

that social spontaneity
knitted the music together,

and people's relationships
and personalities

were bonded between the tunes.

The music was kind of the magnet,
and I think Mick and Martin knew

how to nurture and protect
and foster that.

"THE HUMOURS OF BALLYLOUGHLIN/
FRAHER'S" CONTINUES PLAYING)

"Mr By Jove", yeah.
A man came in, he was...

Who?
"Mr By Jove".

Awfully nice man.

"Absolutely wonderful music!"
And he left 20 quid in the jar.

Ah, go 'way?
The "By Jove" money, we called it!

Jeez, we got about
two years out of that didn't we!

SEAN McKEON: Jesus!
Twenty quid goes a long way!

Twenty quid goes a long way
in those days!

The chats are a big part
of it, and even in Covid, like,

we stopped playing music
all of a sudden

and I took out a banjo one day,
and I was like, "This is rubbish".

It's no good by yourself,

and I realised how much
the social connection

is such a definitive part
of Irish music.

Yeah, wasn't he well into his 80s or
something?

Right. He was fairly old.
He loved the music.

He used to come over here
on a Sunday, yeah.

It's not just any old pub.
It's not replaceable.

It's like a habitat for...

If it was for some protected snail
or something, you know,

it wouldn't be allowed to close,
you know?

"A habitat"!

The musical equivalent
of David Attenborough

would be asking people
to preserve these type of things!

But it's hard to find and
distinguish that from, you know...

Paddywhackery.
Exactly, yeah.

The engine
was just purring nicely, you know?

Everyone was enjoying themselves.
Monday became Monday-and-Wednesday.

Then it became Monday, Wednesday,
Friday.

Then you'd have someone saying,

"Is there anyone playing in the snug
on a Tuesday night?"

Yeah.
"Oh, knock yourself out."

And then there'd be a session, say,
that would go on for 15 years.

I know, yeah. Pearl O'Shaughnessy
was there for ages.

Pearl was... decades, you know?

And she was extraordinary...

...such a generous...
What a lady, yeah.

Such a lady, and so generous
in her patience with...

- Yeah.
- You know, she'd invited
beginners in to play and foster them

and that session would become
a jewel to them.

The session
that my mother used to go to

she was the continuation
from the old Church Street session

that a lot of musicians talk about.

That was a session that gave

an awful lot of musicians a start,
and gave them a place to go.

It was a place you could go out
without any intention

of playing a tune,

and you could meet people at the bar
and have a chat.

Or, if the notion took you,
if there was a session going on,

you could join in and play that, sit
down and play a tune if you want.

It was great to have it
and we'd have been lost in this city

for about 20, 30 years
if we hadn't had it...

we'd have been seriously lost
for a place to go out

and play a tune and relax.

Lovely, Paul.

In terms of the family then,
they were all part of it too,

- weren't they?
- Yeah, the memory I'd
have of here as regards family is

when my eldest daughter was born,
I was supposed to come in here

and play 'cause she was born on St
Patrick's Day 33 years ago, Aoife.

And I remember on the way
to the Coombe saying to Tom:

"Will you ring the lads and
tell them I won't be in Hughes's?"

And I got a message back saying:
"Tell her that's no excuse."

Brilliant!

And I had a similar story
because I remember when I was

having the twins, I had the case in
the boot of the car, and nobody knew

because I knew, "Ah..." And, like
that, I had gone into labour

and I said, "Oh look, I'll just
go in and have a few tunes,

and then I'll go into the hospital"!

Which is exactly what I did do!

We would sit down there
and we would play tunes,

and the locals would be up here.

And there was a great respect
from us for them,

and from them for us,
you know?

And, over the years,
we got to know each other.

Like, I mean Dolly and Jimmy
would sit at the bar.

I think I knew everything about
Dolly's children and grandchildren

by the time I was finished,
you know?

There was weeks,
I think Gay decided,

that they must have had
a birthday every weekend

because there was a birthday cake
handed in behind the bar,

and they'd send the birthday cake
down to us!

But like there was a great respect.

When the pandemic happened, that
social interaction wasn't happening

so did you find it rough, like?

I... couldn't play at all.
I had great intentions,

and go and learn new tunes every
week and all the rest of it.

Started off great,
took the fiddle out and went:

"OK, what do I play?"
'Cause I NEVER play at home.

I only ever played when I went out.
And, eh... after about two weeks,

I just had to leave it there
because it just made me sad.

I felt so sad because the music
just brought back the memories.

With the result now,
I have to go and relearn everything

'cause I've all the second parts
of every tune mixed up!

It is about the people,
isn't it?

Who you're with, yeah.
Very much so.

It gives the whole context to it.
Without people around listening

to you, talking to you, mixing tunes
with other people, it's... it's...

For me, it loses an awful lot.
Loses nearly everything.

You had dancing, singing...
Yeah. Yeah.

..loads of music, and eh...
and lawyers,

and the people from the markets.
You had everything! All human life.

I know. Antaine would have
been here from the beginning too...

Oh yeah. BRENDAN: Because he
- was set-dancing.
-Yeah, he was.

So you'd see his big head
bobbing away in there,

hitting off the roof, and then
he'd be in here singing sean-nos.

Was it the Sean-Nos Cois Life?

They were here
for donkey's years.

The last day would be
on the Sunday in Hughes's

which was always a brilliant
session.

I often went down to it myself.
Generally the Sunday here now

would be...

because it was the...

♪ ..Agus, a bho, a bho, mo lao

♪ A bho, mo leanbh
's ce dearfadh nach i?

♪ O, cuirfidh me coiste
faoi Bhaba 'Con Ri

♪ Cuirfidh me coiste faoi Bhaba
'Con Ri

♪ O, 's seanphoitin gliomach
's rothai 'gabhail faoi

♪ Agus, a bho, a bho, mo lao

♪ A bho, mo leanbh
's ce dearfadh nach i?

♪ Nuair a bhionns mna mhuintir
Uaithnin ag caitheamh cloth shawl

♪ O, ta Baba sin againne
's pluid ar a ceann

♪ Agus, a bho, a bho, mo lao

♪ A bho, mo leanbh
's ce dearfadh nach i? ♪

So who was the previous
owner of the pub then?

It was a guy
called Bill O'Hara.

He sold the place in '53.
I don't know what became of him

but he was here for a long time.

After the shelling
of the Four Courts,

a few stray shells
had rocked the foundation

so they had to rebuild it in 1927.

So the previous state,
we're not sure of.

It's a bit murky. I've been to
the Land Registry and all but...

So Michael Collins blew up this pub?

He did,
and the funny thing is

when, when, when... you were
making that movie 'Michael Collins'

I got woken up the morning you
were...

you were reproducing that!
Oh!

This racket!
Banging going off!

My father's father bought here
in 1953,

and he's the M on the sign outside,
and I was named after him obviously.

He was a Tipperary man.
He took over here

and he ran it with his wife Rita
who was a Dublin lady.

They both died of TB.

Dad was running here
from when he was 19.

He went to college for one day,
and he said:

"Nah! I think I'd prefer the pub."
So he took over here.

It needs a certain
kind of skill to be a particular

type of barman, and Mick had
that innate quality, didn't he?

He was just...

He was an extraordinary man
because he was like

one of those old conductors
you'd see in black and white,

who'd make the tiniest gesture
with his hand

but the guy 50 feet away
knew exactly what he wanted.

He knew,
if someone came in

and they just wanted a paper
and wanted to be left alone,

he'd be handing them the paper
by the time they got to the bar.

He was the Mr Consistency here
for so many people,

and no matter who you were,
you came through the door,

he'd give you the once-over look

and if he thought you were fine,
you were in and that was it.

People spoke to Michael
a bit like a confessional often.

You know, people came in.
But they knew he would never repeat

which he didn't, stories that
they would tell, personal things.

No, yeah.
And he never did.

He wouldn't even tell me about what
they were talking about, you know?

CONTINUES)

Myself and Eimear
both have brothers who play music,

and they used to go off
for sessions,

and we'd only ever find out about
them after the fact!

And one day, we just got fed-up
and we said:

"That's it! The women are going
to have their own session."

And we just put the call out,
and there was probably, on and off,

maybe 10 or 12 of us that would come
in for a tune every Tuesday night.

Yeah.
Often, the place would be empty,

and there'd be a session down
the back and a session in the snug.

And that was it, just two sessions,
and Mick on the bar.

Yeah.
And, uh...

...he'd always land out
with a few ham sandwiches!

And then after a while,
we were like:

"No, Mick, no more sandwiches.
We're watching...

...the hips!"

But it reached a point
then with, you know,

typical women, there were nights
we came in here and by 11.30,

we'd be like,
"Lads, we haven't played a tune."

All we were doing was talking.

Yeah!
And there'd be cake

and there'd be birthday
celebrations.

There was always a celebration.
Yeah, always.

And Mick would pop his head in,
he'd be like:

"What are you celebrating tonight?"

Paula Hanley texted us
and she wasn't going to make it

and she just wrote, "I'm not going
to make Fanny Power tonight."

That was it.
We became Fanny Power.

So for anyone who's not a musician,

Fanny Power is a tune
written by O'Carolan!

But it evolved from Fanny Power
into us becoming The Fannies.

-Yeah.
- So then Mick,
the hatch would open:

"How are da Fannies?"

And, uh, me mother was the Queen
of the Fannies, and... you know?

Oh lovely!
We had Fannies On Tour.

We went to London for the Camden
trad fest, and...

Yeah, it evolved from there.
So we've loads of great memories.

And we've had births, marriages,
engagements, break-ups, the works.

Yeah, how does that work?
All celebrated here.

CONTINUES)

Himself and Mum,
they were down in Killaloe.

I was locking up here one night
with Joe. Remember Joe who...

Yeah.
...who worked for my dad

since the late '70s.
Joe Turner, brilliant man.

And, um... Joe was just leav...

I was closing the side door,
I got a phone call from my mother

and she was upset and she said,
"Your father's very bad."

And I knew there was something...
I said, "OK, I'm coming."

Turns out,
he had a massive heart attack,

and, um, they brought him
to Limerick General.

So I got in the car, drove up,
collected Dave,

this was 1 o'clock
in the morning,

got to Limerick General at 2.35
'cause, you know, I didn't know...

Now he never made it
to the hospital as it turns out.

It was a huge shock
because, you know,

he was still playing golf
a couple of time...

He looked great. He felt great.
Yeah! Yeah.

One thing though,
I can say in hindsight

is that I'm so glad that he was
such an active, happy guy.

I wish he had another 10, 15 years.
Yeah, of course.

He was 75 years of age but
the positives were that he, uh...

he loved his life, you know?

He adored my mother.
He adored the family.

Um, he-he just... he was really
the happiest man I know.

Thank you.

I was lying awake one night.
I couldn't sleep

and I was flicking through YouTube,
and up came a suggested video.

It was Elvis Presley,
'It's Now or Never',

and I remember goin'

"I'm getting a text message from
the universe...

...through Elvis Presley!"
Who better?!

Who better?! And if you...

You know, and I remember just goin',
"It is... If the time to do...

"If I'm going to do it,
now's the time to do it."

Yeah, yeah.
It felt right,

and we were chatting about it
as a family.

You know,
I just came to a decision

that now'd be a nice time.

Like, we've had a great run.
Yeah.

It would feel... This feels like
a good time now to just wrap it up.

There was a lot of smelling of roses
during the pandemic anyway

with a lot of different people
in terms of their life.

You're going after the music?

Yeah, I-I...
Teaching and freelance playing,

and, you know, which I always did
a bit on the side

but I'd enjoy it a lot more now just
with that bit of space to breathe.

What do I think
of the legacy here in Hughes's?

You'll be seeing in the fullness,
it having had an iconic role to play

in traditional music,
song and dance in Dublin.

You know, when I go to places
like, say, Paris, and, eh...

I always feel like somewhere
like that, I'm 120 years too late.

Places like that, that Hemingway and
Joyce and all these people hung out.

But I think we'll look back
and be so fortunate

that we experienced and lived in
something when it was at its height.

We're gonna miss this place so much.

I know.
And we had no farewell night.

I have to say, I missed that.
Yeah.

I mean, I would have loved to say:

"OK, this is going to be our
last night. Let's give it socks."

You know?
It kind of just filtered away.

Places like this come and go.
Yeah.

And maybe it's part of the natural
order that they go too, you know?

Like, I was thinking of Cullens',
you know? Uh... here, you know?

I can think of other places
like Hiudai Beag's

up in Gaoth Dobhair which,
thankfully, is still going strong.

But maybe you can't pin them down.
You can't...

You know, it's not a flag
in the Arts Council map, you know?

Like, build a venue
and tick a box.

And, you know, the place up the road
as well, The Cobblestone, like...

they're almost like twins
in that sense.

I mean, The Cobblestone
is more out there public maybe.

Well, that's interesting too.
It was really refreshing to me

that people began to value
what The Cobblestone is

before they knocked it down.
Yeah.

And the difference
between that and here

is that this is, you know,
this is closing its doors gently.

Not driven to it. Not driven out.
Yeah. Yeah.

And so it feels... There's something
glorious about just...

Well, its time has come maybe?
You know, that...

...you know, like...

Thank God for Mick,
and thank God for Martin:

the way they looked after this place
and everybody that was in it.

Yeah.
And we'll be forever grateful

to them for that.
But sometimes maybe, you know...

things have to move on or change.

Yeah.
But The Cobblestone isn't ready yet.

Yeah.
And people need to continue

to value the places that are there,
and just... and get out of the way

and stop... just leave them alone.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah.

Yep.

♪ In Dublin's fair city

♪ Where the girls are so pretty

♪ I first set my eyes

♪ On sweet Molly Malone

♪ As she wheeled her wheelbarra'

♪ Through the streets
broad and narra'

♪ Cryin' "Cockles and mussels

♪ Alive-alive-oh"

♪ Now, she died of the fever

♪ And no one could save her

♪ And that was the end of

♪ sweet Molly Malone

♪ But her ghost wheels her barra'

♪ through the streets
broad and narra'

♪ Cryin' "Cockles and mussels

♪ Alive-alive-oh"

♪ Alive alive-oh-oh

♪ Alive
alive-oh-oh

♪ Cryin' "Cockles and mussels

♪ Alive-alive-oh" ♪

Whee!

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