HAVE you ever walked into a pub and suddenly found yourself with a ringside seat to a mini drama that you could easily have been watching on stage?
The pub that always comes to mind for me was in Listowel, Country Kerry. It was March, possibly five or six years ago, it was wet and it was the middle of the afternoon.
Before you jump to any conclusions, I had my mother and aunt with me and had gone to the bar to order nothing more than a large pot of tea.
As you might expect, at that time of year and at that time of day, the pub was empty, the barman no doubt getting everything ready for the evening rush.
Drama unfolded in the John B Keane pubThen, I noticed a couple who were sitting at the far corner of the bar – a smart-looking woman holding a large glass of wine; a ruddy-faced, burly man, possibly a farmer, knocking back a large whiskey. Nothing unusual there.
However, while I was waiting for to the tea, I caught the gist of their conversation.
Firstly, it was a good few drinks in. They’d been having an affair for years, she was married, he was married, she was annoyed with him for not seeing her, and he was sheepishly trying to explain why.
I lingered a few moments longer, nosey so-and-so that I am, asking for more milk and sugar. Was she about to give him an ultimatum? Was he about to call it quits? Or were they going to sit there arguing over infidelity until closing time.
“How long does it take to make a pot of tea!” my mother suddenly piped up. I returned to our table, glancing around at the pub’s memorabilia and very much aware that John B’s spirit was still very much in the room.
A few minutes later, we heard a sudden thud. I turned around to see the man had fallen off his high stool. He was lying motionless on the floor. I shot over. The bar man did too. He was breathing but his ruddy cheeks had turned pale. Alarm bells were ringing.
Barman: Shall I call an ambulance?
Woman: No! He’ll be fine.
Barman: Are you sure? He’s not moving.
Woman: He’ll come round, I tell you!
The barman was afraid of igniting her drunken anger any further. I’m no doctor, but I was convinced he’d just had a heart attack or was about to have one.
So, you can see why this moment has stayed with me. This was my first time in John B. Keane’s Pub and the reason for my visit was because it was once owned by the playwright John B. Keane, the man responsible for one of Ireland’s most powerful plays – The Field.
John B. Keane
KEANE wrote at least 19 major plays, many of them set in rural Ireland, many of them tragic stories, some filled with characters that haunt you long after. The Field is certainly one of them and it opens with the memorable line: “Give us a whiskey, for God’s sake…”
Author John B KeaneIt is a bleak story about a small farming community, the type that’s found all over Ireland, and one that seems to go to the heart of why even the smallest piece of land can become such an emotive, explosive issue.
John B. Keane knew that a few acres could not only rip a family apart, but a community, too. He wrote it in 1965 and 25 years later it was famously turned into a Hollywood movie directed by Jim Sheridan, starring Richard Harris, John Hurt, Brenda Fricker and a young Sean Bean.
John B. Keane was born in Listowel in 1928 and although, like many writers, he lived in England for several years, he returned in his late 20s and with his wife Mary bought a pub in 1955 on William Street – one of the town’s main thoroughfares.
Here, behind the bar, he said he found the inspiration not only for his writings about daily life in Ireland, but also the characters for his plays. Keane died in 2002, but the pub is still owned and run by his family and last year they celebrated its 70th anniversary. A smiling life-size bronze statue of Keane now stands on Main Street – not far from his pub.
It is no surprise that Listowel has become a magnet for writers from all over the world and no more so than during the last week of May, when it gets packed to the rafters with visitors for the annual Writer’s Week. Set up in 1970, it is Ireland’s oldest literary festival, giving the town the added accolade: “The Literary Capital of Ireland”.
When you consider all literary festivals that take place in towns and cities across Ireland every year, from Dublin and Belfast to Derry and Galway, it’s an impressive badge of honour.
Listowel’s literary life
OVER the years, Listowel’s festival has seen international heavyweights such as Kazuo Ishiguro, Lionel Shriver and Germaine Greer flying into Kerry to talk about their life and work.
And this year is no exception with the likes of Nicola Sturgeon, former First Minister of Scotland (who recently found out that her great-great-grandparents were from Killinchy in County Down) and Merlin Holland, Oscar Wilde’s only grandson, talking about his latest book, After Oscar: The Legacy of a Scandal.
There is always a host of homegrown literary stars, too; this year’s line-up features Liz Nugent, Colm Tóibín and Fergal Keane – the foreign correspondent and a nephew of John B. Keane.
Venues all over the town take part, including the town hall, main library, theatre and arts centre, pubs, shops and wonderful Writers’ Museum. As well as talks, there are walks, workshops, classes and writing competitions.
Many of the main talks are held at the Listowel Arms Hotel in the main square. This beautiful boutique five-star hotel combines sophistication with an old-fashioned charm.
It occupies a restored three-storey Georgian house dating back to the 1790s, the outside painted in buttery yellow and covered in dark ivy.
The main staircase at The Listowel ArmsToday, it is owned by the O’Callaghan family who have restored much of its original style, but it has had a few other special owners in its time, including the celebrated Irish tenor, Joseph Locke.
The story goes, he was singing ballads at the bar one night in the 1960s, when the barman had to sadly inform him that it was closing time. He finished his song and replied: “In that case, I’ll have to buy the place!” And he did.
Stepping further back in the time, the Irish politician and legendary orator Daniel O’Connell was also a guest, staying there regularly in the 1820s.
He also chose to make one of his famous speeches from a large window on the inn’s first floor. In 1891, Charles Stewart Parnell did the same thing.
The Listowel Arms Hotel has several noteworthy literary associations, too. The English Victorian novelist William Makepeace Thackeray, best-known for Vanity Fair, fell for its charms, referring to it in his Irish Sketchbook of 1842 as “an excellent inn”.
But for me, nothing can quite compete with having one of England’s most pioneering female writers as a guest – Charlotte Bronte. Her stay in June 1854 was particularly special because it was part of her month-long honeymoon in Ireland.
Earlier that month, she and Arthur Bell Nicholls, her Anglican father’s curate, had tied the knot back home in Yorkshire and now Arthur, who was born in Ireland, wanted her to meet his family.
Of course, Charlotte’s father also hailed from the village of Annaclone in County Down, so she obviously had a fascination with the Emerald Isle. Tragically, the 38-year-old novelist was dead nine months later due to complications during her pregnancy.
The River Feale
THE front of the Listowel Arms forms part of a picturesque Georgian square, while the back looks out onto the River Feale, regarded as one of the best salmon and trout rivers in Ireland.
It starts in the Mullaghareirk Mountains in County Cork, passes through County Limerick and flows into north Kerry, passing right by Listowel’s famous racecourse, which hosts the seven-day Harvest Festival every September – one of Ireland’s oldest race meetings.
The river is said to take its name from a mythical Irish goddess called Fial. She would often go down to the shore to bathe in its clear blue waters, but one morning, she suddenly became aware that someone was watching her.
Anxious to hide from them, she moved out further into the river, only to realise she had gone too far and couldn’t swim back in. The person who had been watching her was in fact her husband, who she loved dearly.
He dragged her dead body out of the water and grieved her loss until his own death. What a story!
The River Feale flows right through ListowelThe river’s myths, folklore and natural beauty have attracted the attention of Ireland’s greatest writers, not least John B. Keane, who often walked along its banks as a young man and turned to poetry to evoke something of its mystery and magic.
Another poet who recognised the river’s beauty was Thomas Moore, regarded by many as Ireland’s national poet. He was born in Dublin, but his father’s family were from a townland, not far from Listowel.
One story that particularly ignited his imagination was that of Thomas FitzGerald, the 5th Earl of Desmond, the eldest son of incredibly wealthy landowners who ruled over huge parts of Kerry from the 14th to 16th centuries.
By chance, he happened to see Catherine MacCormac, the daughter of one of his tenant farmers and fell madly in love with her at first sight.
They tied the knot soon after, but his family were horrified that he had married beneath him and stripped him of all his land and titles.
Determined to stay together, they fled to France. He died two years later. Moore wrote about this tragic love story in his ballad, Desmond’s Song.
From the legend of Fial to the fate of Thomas FitzGerald, from Charlotte Bronte to the ruddy-faced farmer in John B’s pub, love has got a lot to answer for in Listowel.
If you get a chance to visit the Literary Festival, do. If you can’t go to the festival, then go to Listowel and visit John B. Keane’s pub. Who knows what drama might unfold!
Listowel’s Writers’ Week takes place from May 28 to May 31. For more details visit: www.writersweek.ie. For further details about Listowel visit www.ireland.com.
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