Raising a glass to Strabane’s pubs of yesteryear

I HAVE always loved the pub.

It is a kinship that was forged as a boy when my parents were regulars in Felix O’Neill’s.

Before I go on I need to make clear that this is not some rambling advertisement for alcohol consumption. Rather it is my two pence worth on a commentary I am hearing more and more, one that usually starts with the words ‘The bars are finished’.

One or two Saturday afternoons in the month my folks, Paul and Eileen, would call to Felix’s to catch up with friends. My sister and I would be handed a Fanta and crisps and told to go and watch television. We would sit there glued to The A-Team or The Fall Guy while all around was the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter as the adults cast off the shackles of the working week.

When I wore a younger man’s clothes my father worked in various establishments around Strabane. I can see him yet in his dickie bow, polishing glasses and mopping floors in the Melmount Centre.

When ‘The Centre’ fell out of vogue he picked up shifts here and there – in The Buttery, The Blue Parrot and Flann O’Brien’s.

As many sons do, I followed in his footsteps.

It was in Flann’s, now MK’s for those too young to remember, at the age of 16 that I pulled my first pint.

Unfortunately Flann O’Brien’s saw more quiet nights than busy ones and eventually the then owner, Mr Thompson, decided to call it a day.

Armed with my new bartending skills, I found work again almost immediately in the much busier Townhall which, at the time was the epicentre of local nightlife.

I’ve put in hours in many places over the years – in The Buttery (now Dicey Riley’s), Strabane Cricket Club, Bannigan’s in Lifford, The Mannin Hotel on the Isle of Man where I was bar manager and most recently in Murphy’s on the Green under Kieran and Norma.

I loved it, I really did. The blast of steam from the glass washer, the crack of the pool balls, the smell of lemon urinal cakes, the rumble of the ice machine as it spat out its latest delivery – I distinctly remember wanting to be a barman forever.

This was of course when I was in my twenties and grown-up life was new, fresh and uncomplicated – beer, girls and more beer.

Nowadays I only have to think about bar work and I get a stabbing pain in my back.

Three decades I’ve been in and out of Strabane’s pubs. I’m 48 now and had my first pint at 18. I waited until my 18th birthday on account of a priest making us all ‘take the pledge’.

Had I known then what I know now that same padre would have got his answer – sure wasn’t it Jesus who started all this when he turned water into wine.

Thirty years, just like that. And it would be fair to say that things have changed a bit in that time.

When I started going out bar promotions were such a regular thing. Every week there was somewhere doing ‘buy one, get one free’ or ‘pints for a pound’.

I remember in 1996 the Fir Trees Hotel had its ‘96p Club’ on a Thursday night. Bottles of Bud and Miller for 96p with a selection of spirits at the same price.

Can you imagine that today?

Baseball caps, t-shirts, jackets, shirts, rucksacks, umbrellas – my wardrobe used to be full of clothes bearing the names of well-known drinks brands.

For years I had a lovely white Budweiser shirt which I wore at every opportunity. I think in the end up my mum got sick looking at it and accidentally on purpose washed it with a pair of red socks. As much as I liked it, I wasn’t wearing a pink shirt.

But a bit like the logo on that Budweiser shirt, those promotions have long since faded away. And sadly too have a lot of the bars that used to host them.

Without fail the aforementioned Townhall Bar was jammed from Thursday to Sunday. Upstairs you had Satchmo’s which was also wall to wall with customers.

The Melmount Centre, The Bridgend Bar, The Greyhound Bar, Browne’s Bar (more recently The Central or The Gay Bar), Paddy Mac’s, The Classic Bar, All-Stars on the Main Street which I think is closed (If I’m wrong then I apologise). Their names have all disappeared from the local landscape.

The Mill House, The Blue Parrot, Curly Wurly’s, all once busy and lively nightspots. These days they are Oyster’s, Tusk and Murphy’s on the Green, each an award-winning restaurant in its own right. You’ll still get a good pint in them but I don’t think anyone would disagree that food is the main focus.

What led to the demise of so many once booming bars? Only the respective owners know the answer. But a series of events in machine gun succession certainly did them no favours.

Twenty years ago this month the X Factor hit our screens for the first time.

The X Factor changed everything. Suddenly people were staying in to see who would get through and who would get the boot.

The following year Asda arrived in Northern Ireland, bringing with it beer bargains the likes of which had never been seen.

Two years after that and the smoking ban was introduced. Another nail in the nightlife coffin as people opted to remain at home where they could puff in comfort rather than having to go outside.

And by 2007/08, Facebook had us all in its grip. Pub-goers became former pub-goers as they realised they could get the scandal without having to take their feet off the sofa.

And we changed. Me, you, the world in general.

Hands up if you have tried some sort of fitness improvement in the past ten or 15 years? Yoga, pilates, couch to 5k, Park Run, hill walking, sea swimming – all these things have become part of society’s fabric.

The reality is that the pub just isn’t the draw it once was.

A report released by the Drinks Industry Group of Ireland (DIGI) last month found that Ireland’s alcohol consumption is down by almost one-third over the past two decades.

As I mentioned at the outset, this article isn’t an ode to drinking. It’s just that when I hear things like ‘the pubs are finished’, I get a bit sad because I still think there’s something magical about them.

Every aspect of pub life is designed to break down barriers and bring us together. It is where we socialise with friends, meet our future wives and husbands, celebrate birthdays, weddings, Christmas and it’s where we raise a glass as we say goodbye to loved ones.

A rough head count tells me that Strabane still has a dozen or so bars which, for the most part, are welcoming and well-run places.

Their proprietors should take a bow, having survived when so many have fallen. But with costs rising, audiences dwindling, staff hard to recruit and trends changing, will we ever see a new licensed premises open locally?

Now there is a conversation for the high stool.