AGAINST THE ODDS:AT NOON on Sunday, all was quiet on Maryfield Drive, a handy rat-run between the busy Ardlea and Kilmore roads, but more familiar to locals as the terminus of the 20B bus route. A cluster of men, some stooped and using sticks, others of a more youthful lean, were gathered at the bus stop.
A double-decker had just pulled out, heading for the city centre, but none of the assembly had boarded, which seemed strange as some looked as if they might not get very far under their own steam.
Included in the group were Vinny Fitzpatrick and Shanghai Jimmy, whose presence had been well received by a slight, silver-haired gent in a smart suit a size too big.
“I knew the Clontarf lads wouldn’t let us down. Glad you could make it,” he wheezed.
Vinny and Shanghai acknowledged the old man. The friends cut a slightly incongruous pair, clad in Dublin jerseys and jeans, for they were Croker-bound, once the “ceremony” was over.
The senior figure was Don Donnelly, the life-president and driving force of the Dublin Conductors and Drivers’ Association, The Cads. After serving Dublin Bus as boy and man, The Don, nudging 80, had become an inspiring figure for ex-drivers and clippies through his unstinting work with The Cads. He organised an annual summer golf outing and the Christmas booze-up in The Gresham, while his “Cads Cuttings”, a monthly email on the lives and times of former employees, was always a good read.
The Don never missed a funeral, whether it was for the passing of a colleague or a bus, in this case the 20B. With Dublin Bus overseeing changes to beat the band, most of which involved the introduction of cross-city buses, many routes were being amalgamated or, in some cases, wiped off the map.
Next month, the 20B, with links to the Dublin United Tramway Company in the 1920s, would be replaced by a new, cross-city 14, operating from Dundrum and back.
Locals had fought tooth and nail to keep the iconic “20B from Eden Quay to Ardlea”, to such an extent it had even become an issue in the general election. Vinny had played the 20B card on the hustings himself: his slogan had been “Be with the 20B”.
And while he didn’t admit it publicly, he had a feeling if his campaign had stayed intact it could have been him, and not the Labour whipper-snapper, who took the third Dáil seat in Dublin North Central.
Dublin Bus had been keen to route the 14 from the Omni Shopping Centre, but locals were adamant the circuitous route to the city centre had to stay. Not only that, they wanted it routed via Beaumont Hospital.
Their protest worked, to a point. The locals kept their route, but the 20B had run its course: the 14 would now run from Ardlea Road, starting in July.
Just like the 8 to Dalkey and the 44A to Mount Prospect Avenue, talismanic buses of Dublin’s past, the 20B was bound for the great garage in the sky, but not before Dublin Bus workers, past and present, paid their respects.
The Don cleared his throat and reached for a notebook inside his jacket. “Lads, we are gathered here this morning to lament the passing of an old friend, the 20B,” he intoned sincerely.
With that, The Don offered a synopsis of the history of the route, which intrigued Vinny. He had always had a thing for old routes, their origins, destinations, even the timetables.
The Don told how the route had replaced the old 81 and 73 after the second World War, and how the route originally terminated at the junction of Celtic Park Road before being extended to the Ardlea Road in the late 1970s.
While the route operated from Summerhill Garage, it had once been the preserve of Clontarf Garage in the 1960s, which Vinny found fascinating.
As he concluded, The Don called for a round of applause for the 20B and then asked all those present to sign and date the back of an old bus ticket roll.
The paper was solemnly placed in an empty tuna tin and buried in a grass cutting adjacent to the bus stop. “Gone, but not forgotten,” said The Don, wiping away a rheumy tear.
With that, the mourners followed the long-standing tradition of walking along the route. The Don set no demand on the length of the journey, but asked that everyone took in at least two or three stops.
One by one, the old warriors of the wheel, some misty-eyed with emotion, shuffled along in companionable silence. Vinny was moved to recall the line from And The Band Played Waltzing Matildaabout some day there'd be no one there marching at all.
As the numbers dwindled and infirm drivers of a forgotten time stopped off to wait for a lift home, Vinny and Shanghai marched on, past the entrance to Beaumont Hospital, where The Don called it a day.
“My pins aren’t what they used to be. Hope to see you all at the 42B farewell soon, lads.”
At the Beaumont House pub, Vinny raised an eyebrow at Shanghai, who nodded in agreement. The others still standing were of the same propensity – time for a swift one.
Twenty minutes later, the, by now, dwindling pack turned left on to the long stretch of Collins Avenue. Vinny thought of his old man, who’d driven this road, serving the public with a razor-sharp wit and ready smile. He knew Finbarr would be proud of him.
By Belton’s pub, now known as Kitty Kiernan’s, the thirst was on the group again, and a second, indeed lovely, pint, was quickly downed.
Turning on to the Malahide Road, the survivors kept on. Not many were left and Vinny and Shanghai soon found themselves at the front of the peleton. At Kavanagh’s of Fairview, a famed watering hole, a third, outstanding pint, was supped.
Emerging into the sunlight, Vinny and Shanghai found themselves among the throng of Dublin supporters heading for a pre-Croker jar. They were the last two busmen standing and the most sensible approach was to call it quits and focus instead on De Dubs.
But Vinny had his jaw set like a drawer not quite firmly shut. “I’m not for turning. You with me, Shanghai?” he said.
There were two hours to go to the Croker throw-in, and no self-respecting Dub arrived early, especially not when the Meath infidels were playing Kildare in the “minor” match.
Ahead of them lay Gaffney’s, Lloyd’s, Molloy’s and finally the glittering jewel of Briody’s in Marlborough Street, directly opposite the terminus of an old friend.
Vinny’s famed, in-built calculus reckoned they could complete the route, pints and all, and make Hill 16 before 4pm.
“We march on, Shanghai. Let’s ‘Be with the 20B’ for a wee bit longer.”
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