The Goodness of Guinness – The
Brewery, its People and the City of Dublin. Tony Corcoran, Liberties Press,
Dublin, 2005. pp 157. PB. Price E12.95.
This review was written on July 30th 2005
It would be impossible for
somebody born in Dublin, living close to the Liberties, bred on Guinness in UCD
Boat Club and still taking a pint after a game of golf, not to have an abiding
nostalgia for that great institution, Arthur Guinness and Sons. Corcoran’s book
deals with the history of the great brewery. Arthur Guinness established the
brewery in James’s Gate in 1757 when there were already about 60 breweries in
the area, all of which apparently brewed ‘indifferent beer’. Guinness was only
interested in a quality product and hence its great success.
Perhaps the greatest source of
the company’s pride was the early and comprehensive medical and social services
which the firm provided for all their employees and their families, made famous
by Sir John Lumsden who was a pioneer in occupational medicine in these islands
and who recognised the importance of good social circumstances in the maintenance
of health. Guinness led the world in terms of concern for their employees, and
played a notable part in other social activities and in philanthropy.
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| The Coomble Lying in Hospital |
As the first consultant
physician appointed to the Coombe Lying in Hospital, where I served for 38
years, I was particularly conscious of the seminal role Guinness played in supporting
the Coombe during the latter part of the 19th century. The
hospital was then situated close to the brewery in the Coombe in the oldest part
of Dublin and it served
all the midwifery and obstetrical patients in the adjacent slums. The
hospital could not have survived various crises without the company’s
considerable financial support which allowed it to continue to serve an
impoverished public. The company also famously provided a small bottle of stout
daily for the expectant mothers and other in-patients, confirming no doubt the
Company’s claim that Guinness is Good for You! This munificence continued until
the Hospital moved to more modern and distant quarters in Rialto in the early
1960s.
 |
| The portico of the old Coombe still preserved. |
The wards in the new hospital were
all dedicated to various saints in the Roman Catholic Calendar, unlike the
secular titles of the departments in the old Coombe. At the time of
change to Rialto I suggested to the board that at least one ward or department should
commemorate the name of Arthur Guinness and Sons but my suggestion fell on deaf
ears. Perhaps it is not too late still to pay a well-deserved tribute to the
hospital’s great patron. The Catholic Archbishop of Dublin was chairman of the
hospital board when we had moved to Rialto and his shadow over the hospital’s board
members may have been a factor in ignoring my suggestion. At least a few of the
named saints have since been stripped from the Calendar by a recent Pope but
there is still no reference to the crucial role Guinness paid in the hospital’s survival after it was established in 1831.
I am now 83 years of age and
the pint is still my favoured drink after a game of golf and on other social
occasions. A visit to a pub even at this late stage of my life sparks a reflex
which ensures that I will order a pint on arrival, at least for myself. In the
early years we drank bottles of stout as the drink was invariably called. It
had a higher alcohol content than the pint of draught or pint of plain as it
was described by the familiar. The draught was prepared by the individual publicans
in these early days and the quality of the pint varied according to the care of
the preparation by the pub but the pint of Guinness is now much more reliable
in its quality and taste since its preparation by modern means at the Guinness
brewery and its transport in sealed metal containers to the retail trade. Our
favourite brew in my earlier days was a pint containing an equal mix of bottled
stout with the draught. The mix was called a half and half. In pubs and bars to-day the draught is
preferred by the great majority of cultivated and fastidious drinker nor are
the gentler sex immune to its attractions, unlike their reluctance to indulge
in earlier years.
Student celebrations were
invariably associated with Guinness. A striking thing was the amount of drink
which could be consumed by the celebrants. I recall all night sessions in UCD Boat
Club at Islandbridge and elsewhere after weekend regattas when vast quantities
could be consumed by some of my heartiest colleagues. Regattas were preceded by
six weeks strict training when alcohol, smoking and association with the
opposite sex were forbidden, The celebrations were therefore an understandable
response to such a strict regime. I recall competitions aimed at testing consumption capacity
including the shortest time a pint could be swallowed from the moment the full pint
was lifted until the glass was returned empty on the table. Any spillage led to
disqualification. Twelve seconds won handsomely on one occasion. He was a young Trinity oarsman who must
have had an oesophagus as big as a drainpipe!
The neophyte may not be
enamoured by his or her first taste of Guinness but familiarity will quickly
change from initial taste to a life’s devotion to the brew. I had my first pint
of Guinness at the age of 19 when I first tasted alcohol. If you’re tired of
Guinness, you’re tired of life, although the current weekly production of stout
at St. James’s Gate of 18 million pints would suggest that there are few tired
people in the population This book will bring back fond memories for those of
us who were students serving the ‘District’ in the old Coombe, and it will add
to the historical fabric of Dublin and the Liberties.
(PS: I have never had shares
in Guinness)
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