BY JOHN FITZGERALD
(Part two)
In the early 20th century a meeting of the Board of Guardians of Callan Workhouse became heated when a motion was tabled calling on the Board to back a protest against the drinking of imported booze in the county.
Pat Keating vigorously opposed the motion. He was a fanatical teetotaler: a mixture of anger and loud laughter greeted his anti-drink sentiment.
Jack Molloy accused him of “getting hold of the wrong end of the stick altogether”. He reminded the Board that the Kilkenny brewers were up against “that foreign stuff coming in, and any fool would know that if our lads stop making drink, fellows will still wet their whistles on the foreign brew. Ireland will be finished entirely.”
Jim Prout suggested that the whole debate was a waste of time, as nothing they could say or do would change anyone’s drinking habits. “If we had the eloquence of Grattan or O’ Connell, we would still be powerless” he opined.
Tom (T.B.) Cahill favoured the motion in support of the Brewery workers and believed that the Board should give them its unequivocal backing. “There’s nothing to whack the Kilkenny beer, especially at a threshing”, he informed his colleagues.
Further support for the workers and for the brewing of beer in Kilkenny came from Mattie Brennan. He declared: “I support home industry, but I can tell ye now I wouldn’t dream of buying that poteen they’re making in certain parts. T’ would kill a bloody horse.”
Another Guardian, Danny Roberts, had been quiet up to that point as he had a bad cold. “What I’d like now”, he said, coughing and wheezing, “is a hot mug of punch. You can’t beat it. ‘Tis better than all the doctor’s medicine below in Montgomery’s shop.”
On this point Pat Keating agreed with him. “Danny”, he intoned, “I have no objection at all to you having what you call a drop of the craythur for medicinal purposes. I have allowed for that in my vision of an alcohol-free Ireland.”
“Alcohol-free me arse”, roared William Neill, “when we get Home Rule in this country we’ll be able to brew all the beer and the poteen we like. If we had Pat’s ban on beer, I could see a day when every thirsty and hard-working man from Cork to Belfast would be letting on to have a cold just to get a drop of the medicine.”
“Were that to be the case, my good man”, retorted Pat Keating, “we’d be better off with Home Gruel than Home Rule!”
To prevent a riot breaking out in the boardroom, Pat decided to withdraw his anti-drink motion, but his words seemed to have had some effect. The motion calling for support of the Brewery Workers was carried by a lesser margin than expected: Nine votes to six.
T.B. Cahill then asked the clerk to make a note of who supported the motion, so that the brewery in Kilkenny could be given the names of its true friends in the Callan Boardroom. “Check that you have the right addresses there man” he nudged the clerk, “I don’t want my share of the goodwill stuff going up to Cahill’s of Graguagh just in case the Kilkenny lads send out any free beer samples.”
Jack Molloy came to life again at the mention of free beer. “Japers”, he expostulated, “I think we should go into the brewery and collect it there. I’m not the only Molloy in Callan, you know. The stuff could end up anywhere if they send it out.”
Pat Keating then re-ignited the anti-drink debate that the others thought had been well and truly put aside, at least for that day. He asserted: “This question of backing one lot of beer makers over another is nonsense. It’s not a fit topic for us at all. We are only trying to jump over the moon, gentlemen, with all this talk. I am disgusted with the waste of time. And I have to say…this boardroom stinks of drink today.”
A Guardian who was imbibing a mug of ale blushed at this remark, but said nothing.
Michael Lynch reminded members that the boardroom also stank of beef and bones, and not only beer, as hunks of meat had been taken into it earlier in the day. He proposed that Davy Tobin be contracted to cleanse the boardroom of the combined whiff of beer, beef, and bones with his high quality sulphur candles. On a show of hands, all agreed with this proposition.
Danny Roberts, still coughing and sneezing, said he was off to get himself a nice mug of punch, adding “and divil the man that’ll stop me drinking it!”
