The popular Paddy Moran’s Pub
ONE of the most popular pubs in Castlebar over the years has to be Paddy Moran’s, St. Helena’s Bar, the Pig Market, on Rush Street. Today the pub is run by Paddy’s son, John, and is noted for its ‘meedium’, writes Tom Gillespie.
Browsing through the magnificent magazine Parke & Turlough - Yesterday & Today 1911-2011, published by Parke Community Centre Committee, I come across an article by Kate Boyle on Paddy Moran’s Pub recalling the excitement of fair days and the unique communications code that operated in the pub.
The committee who published the 258-page publication comprised of Eileen Bolger, Mary Mahon, Kate Boyle, Breda Morris, Michelle Flynn, Joanne Dean, Nuala O’Hora, Michael Maguire, Gerard Carney, Frank Moran, Jim McHugh, Noel Mahon, Christy Lawless and Stephen McDonnell.
The article by Kate Boyle shows the affection that the people of the Parke and Turlough area had for Paddy and his wife Bridie.
Kate wrote: Meet you in Paddy’s.’ These were the words echoed by numerous men from Parke whilst in town on errands. Paddy Moran of Levallinree was now well established in the pub on Rush Street that he had purchased in 1953.
When the bar got busy, Paddy just tapped the ceiling above his head. This was the cue to Bridie, his wife, that she was needed downstairs. The ceiling was tapped for other reasons too. It was a warning to his ever growing family to stop the high jinks; the pounding upstairs was sending dust from the ceiling into the customer’s pints.
Up until 1982, when the markets ended, Saturday morning was buzzing outside Paddy’s. From 8 a.m. the dealers, jobbers and tanglers haggled, the cattle lowed and pigs grunted.
Quietness was restored as the cattle guzzled the dregs of the porter trays or out-of-date bottles of stout, sold to the dealers for a couple of bob.
Deals were struck, luck money sorted, hands shook, and then into Paddy’s for a drink.
Today farmers are quick to remind you of Paddy’s generosity.
He lent many of them the price of a calf if they were short and for his good deed he was never out of pocket. Any tangler who thought he could take advantage of a man with a few drinks had no chance under Paddy’s watchful eye.
Early York and all sorts of cabbage plants bought on the day were lined up at the back wall beside the darts board.
These were a bigger headache than any cattle lowing - such confusion a few pints later as to whose was whose was something else. Paddy to the rescue - he seemed to have an uncanny knack of returning each to their own.
Margadh Mór
It was a six o’clock start once a month for the fair day and the highlight of the year, surrounded by turkeys and geese and full of all kinds of festive cheer, was the ‘Margadh Mór’.
Christmas time, before the advent of the off-licence, was an exceptionally busy time in the pub. Blisters multiplying on the children’s hands as they peeled off tables and rubbed with a baby brush empty bottles so that their dad could refill them with draft.
These, along with cartons of cigarettes, were sent up to St. Mary’s Hospital for the patients' Christmas party.
The regulars placed their orders too - cases of Guinness, bottles of whiskey and sherry for the ladies.
The demise of the day trade came about with the closure of the bacon factory and with the introduction of wages being paid into the bank. It no longer necessitated a visit to Paddy’s to cash the cheque.
Paddy never got involved in politics, feeling it was in a no-win situation as either way he was going to upset half of his customers.
Underneath it all, Paddy was a reserved man and so when Garrett Fitzgerald, while on one of his campaigns in the early 1980s, dropped into the pub, Paddy, not knowing what to do, made himself scarce in the storeroom, leaving Pat Junior to hold the fort.
It was a fleeting visit, with no time for a drink, and once peasantries were exchanged, Garrett left again going about his business.
However, Séamus Cusack (a Fine Gael candidate at the time) did a u-turn back into the pub looking for a drink for medicinal purposes to settle Garrett’s stomach.
Pat bottled a brandy and port and instructed Séamus to tell Garrett that the drink was on Pat Moran.
Pat remembers only too well similar campaigns where politicians in his pub ordered drink for all and sundry and later, as everyone toasted the politician and praised his generosity, it was Pat who was left picking up the tab for the round.
Pat Junior took over the running of the pub but Paddy never retired, preferring instead to spend the day in the company of his customers and his friends.
Paddy Moran’s has had two facelifts but in essence retains the same comfortable, sitting-room-style atmosphere.
The clientele today (2011), among others, are the younger generation of the regulars all those years ago.
Paddy’s son John is now behind the bar but sadly his father’s big character is missing having passed away on July 12, 1999.
Paddy stood for no nonsense and moreover he never sold drink to a man who had had enough.
*Read Tom Gillespie's County Town column in our print edition every Tuesday