New legislation will ban the opening of early houses, traditionally frequented by dock workers and people finishing their night shifts. But, say the publicans and their regulars, early houses pose no public order threat, and still provide a valuable service to shift workers. Fiona McCannreports
'THEY'RE INFRINGING on people's rights! The first pub they'd want to close is the bar in Leinster House," says Noel "Gura" Murphy as he receives the news that early houses will no longer be able to operate once the new legislation announced this week comes into force. It's 7.30am in the Windjammer pub on Dublin's Townsend Street, on the fringes of the city's docklands, and the atmosphere is calm and convivial as regulars wander in and, with a raised brow or a nod and a wink, order "the usual" from barman Cathal McFeely.
Early houses - pubs allowed a general exemption licensing them for early morning trade - have been around for more than 80 years. They were given official sanction in a 1927 act that stipulated such establishments were needed to cater for those attending early markets and fairs, or for those whose "trade or calling" left them in need of refreshment at otherwise unsociable hours.
Murphy, a 70-year-old former docker, has been a regular at the Windjammer for more than four decades, and recalls the days when places such as these flourished as people working on the docks retired to early houses between the arrivals of ships. "There were no restrictions back then," he remembers.
But times are changing, and the news that the last few early houses in Ireland will have to cease early trading once the new Intoxicating Liquor/Public Order bill (2008) is enacted casts a sombre pall over the generally upbeat proceedings at the Windjammer. There's a steady trickle of clientele, entirely male and all in their latter years, who take their seats at the bar and take in the news. From the outside, it's hard to even tell the pub is open for business, as the shutters are kept down to discourage passing trade. As I attempt to slip in unnoticed, one of the regulars, on his way out for a cigarette, asks me whether I'm in the right place, such is his sense of ownership and investment in the premises where he spends his early mornings.
The Windjammer is careful about who comes in and out, but, once inside, the mood is cordial, infinitely more so than that in your average late-night boozer. There's a noticeable absence of menace or aggression.
Everybody is on a first-name basis with McFeely; despite his 20 years behind the bar, as a Donegal man, he's still teased for being a blow-in by the punters.
He feels the end of the early licence will have a massive impact on the local community. "I think it'll be a big loss because it is such a social thing. If people finish shifts, if they find they've nowhere to go in the early morning, we're here," he says. "It's a tradition that's always been there and I'd like to see it remain. It's about much more than just getting a drink."
For those who frequent the Windjammer, mornings at this small, quiet watering hole have become part of the social fabric of the area. It is a place to meet and mix with their peers, and a routine that in some way has become bound with their sense of our national identity.
"It's part of the culture," says Dubliner Tommy Bisset, who has stopped in for a swift tipple on his way to work. "I would be extremely disappointed to see it go."
"It's about the characters that come here in the morning, the craic," Murphy agrees.
John Kirwan, who claims to have been frequenting the Windjammer since 1956, is eager to step in. "The simple reason [ I come here] is that you get better craic now, at this hour, than you would in the evening. There's no tension now," he says.
It's hard to argue as you settle into the kind of easy, low-key conversation that's in short supply in many of Dublin's night-time drinking emporiums. With locals so welcoming they're pressing pints into my hands, and both the barmen on the far side of 50, it's hard to believe that this local boozer is contributing to the kind of social disturbances and binge-drinking tendencies that prompted the new bill.
"There's no element of public disorder about these at all," admits Dr Gordon Holmes, who chaired the Alcohol Advisory Group whose report fed into the new bill, "but they are very sordid." Holmes argues that the original reasoning behind early licences is no longer relevant. "Historically, it filled the need of people who went to early morning fairs, people who were fishing in open boats at sea ports and came in at seven o'clock in the morning," he says. "There is much less early morning activity now."
DES PHELAN, ONE of the Windjammer regulars who works nights, argues otherwise. "The reason why the early houses opened around this area was for the boats coming in," he acknowledges. "The boats are gone but there are more people working night shifts now than there were in the sixties and seventies."
This is what a number of proprietors of early houses argued three years ago when their licences were called into question by the Garda. Since 1962, only early houses with existing licences have been allowed to maintain them, and these were required once a year to apply for a renewal. An objection from a Garda superintendent at the annual hearing in the District Court argued against their reissue. The publicans were represented by Constance Cassidy, a senior counsel and expert on licensing law.
"I argued that it would be unjust, unfair and inequitable to take away a substantial part of their livelihood on a whim when the legislature specifically provided for the granting of a general exemption order in certain circumstances and they complied with the circumstances," she recalls.
Rory Daly, who owns the Windjammer and was among those involved in that case, says he personally collected signatures from nurses, taxi drivers and all those whose professions require them to work overnight, to show that many of their clientele were those who worked unsociable hours. "There are far more shift workers nowadays," he says, a point which he says was conceded by the court.
Daly is angered that, as a proprietor of one of the few early houses that remain in operation, he was neither approached on the matter nor informed that his early licence would be removed. "I was totally shocked," he says, of hearing about it from the newspapers. "It's typical, they're trying to put the boot in on the sly." He says arguing in court to keep the licence three years ago was a time-consuming and costly process, and he doesn't understand why that decision no longer applies.
"It cost us a small fortune to go to court that time, and what's changed ?" asks Daly. "What's happened in three years, is what I'd like to know."
Operating a strict door policy, Daly feels he has done his best to cooperate with both the local Garda and the Government in cracking down on young drinkers. "We've a great relationship with the Garda," he says. "They asked me about four or five years ago to stop opening for the Trinity Balls, so I did. I'm losing business to facilitate the Garda in that respect and I was taken aback that the Government would shaft me when I'm doing all I can to accommodate them."
He's not the only one who has been blindsided by the new measure. According to Donal O'Keeffe, Chief Executive of the Licensed Vintners Association which represents Dublin publicans, there was no consultation with the body before the draft bill was published. "There had been no discussion about it whatsoever," he says. "We had no consultations with the Advisory Group or the Department of Justice. We're very disappointed to see that provision [ regarding early houses] in the bill."
O'Keeffe argues that early houses don't contribute to the public order problems the Department was proposing to tackle, and he defends their continued existence. "We strongly believe that early houses are generally well run. They're traditional businesses, they've been in it a long time," he says. "They're a small element of the total pub trade, but we would feel they're part of that trade, part of the fabric of Dublin, and we'd be hoping to see them continue."
WHILE HE ACCEPTS that the original reason they were created may be redundant, O'Keeffe feels there are reasons to keep early houses going. "There is still a very significant night-time economy in Dublin, and, whether people are security guards, or in the hospitality business or working a 24-hour business, if they want a drink or two or coffee after work, the early house is for them."
Given that the new legislation has yet to be enacted by the Oireachtas, O'Keeffe is hoping there will be a chance to examine its contents before it comes into force in the summer. "We have to consider the bill in its entirety, but we'll obviously be considering it next week and looking to engage," he says.
Dr Gordon Holmes is aware that many will be upset about the new restrictions, but defends the decision to call time on early houses. "I know some people are going to be discommoded by it, and I deeply regret that," he says. "On balancing up everything, the view of our group was that they no longer fulfilled the purpose for which they were brought into being, and that on balance there is now more harm than good coming from them."
For regulars such as Phelan, who is on his way home after work, the real harm is being done elsewhere.
"[ Minister for Justice Brian Lenihan] is tackling the wrong end of the industry," he says as he orders me a drink. "Nine people out of 10 will have a pint after work." He shrugs, wondering why he should be the exception. "You're not coming to get drunk here, you're coming in to relax," he explains. Murphy agrees. "The revels at night are one thing, but this man," he nods at McFeely, "closes the gate. He only lets the working class in."
There are no binge-drinking youths or drugged-out partygoers on this premises, and you get the feeling that any attempt to order a Bacardi Breezer would send the drinkers dotted around the bar into gales of laughter. "To be quite honest with you, they should leave the early pubs alone!" says Murphy, with proprietorial pride in his voice. "It's only the mature people who drink here."