Irish Bar Research Articles

Grounded

Grounded Geeta Kothari (bio) 1 In those days, I shared an apartment in Queens with three other women. We had two bedrooms and rarely appeared in the space at the same time. The one I saw most often was Becky, a pale thing with knobby knees who worked for Delta. Our building was under the flight path, filled with other transients like us. Occasionally, there was a wild party, but mostly we used the place to sleep and park our clothes and souvenirs. We had nothing in common—education, background, or even the flights we crewed–yet somehow we all managed to sleep with the same pilots. We passed men around like cigarettes, and we didn't care about any of them, but this one guy, he became our shared obsession. He lived alone in a studio on the second floor. Chander claimed to be descended from royalty, and he spoke with a crisp British accent that passengers found reassuring. Knowing that his name meant "moon" in Punjabi gave me no armor. He was as beautiful as the moon, with his green eyes, his silky beard, and fair skin. 2 My father fell one day, and that ended my days in the air. I moved back to Manhattan and took the translator's exam at the United Nations, and that's where Becky found me, in the rose garden, staring across the river at Long Island City. She still had her blond secretary hair, but the years had given her some pounds and some lines. "This is his child," she said. She held out her phone and scrolled through a series of photos of a toddler with curly black hair and brown eyes. She didn't look like Chander. Or Becky. She looked like me. "I have to get back to work," I said. "He has no idea. But a girl should know her father." "Why didn't you tell him you were pregnant?" Chander had broken up with her several months before he started working at a private jet company. "I heard he got married," Becky said. I'd never liked her. I was glad she was fat. "At least meet me for a drink after work?" Becky said. Her voice remained steady, like she didn't care. Across the river, Long Island City seemed as far away as Paris. 3 No one expects to own the moon. After our affair ended, Chander let me keep his key. He had nicer furniture, a king-sized bed, cable TV. "Use the place as much as you want," he said. I never slept there, [End Page 24] but on nights when I couldn't sleep, I enjoyed going through his photo albums while watching reruns of I Love Lucy. I drank his duty-free scotch, and in exchange, stocked his refrigerator with fresh milk and orange juice. He'd been raised in an aging haveli in Hoshiarpur—not quite a palace, as Becky claimed, but his family had money, and he was the only son. A British boarding school for his teen years, an unremarkable university degree, and then, turning his back on the family business, he went to flight school. "You have to learn to stand up to them," he said. "Indian parents are the worst." He lectured me on things Indian, with all the authority of someone born and raised in India. One of his sisters still lived at home, and I wondered if this was the same advice he gave her, and if she recognized the irony. Without her living with his parents, surely he wouldn't have been in New York, acting as if he had no family obligations? 4 I met Becky at an Irish bar on Third Avenue. I knew she hated beer, but I couldn't think of anywhere else. I did all my drinking at home, in my bedroom, while reading Paul Bowles. "By the time I found out about the baby, he'd left," Becky said. This was after the plane he was scheduled to work exploded off the coast of Ireland. He had the flu and took a sick day. When he quit, she assumed it was guilt. She thought he...

Celebrating a Century of Women in the Law: Using Historical Exhibitions to Enhance User Engagement and Promote a Library Service

AbstractIn 2019 the Bar of Ireland Law Library launched an online exhibition detailing the first one hundred years of women in the law in Ireland and the first one hundred women called to the Irish Bar. The online exhibition coincided with the centenary celebrations of the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act 1919 and a physical exhibition curated in collaboration with the Honorable Society of Kings Inns and the Law Society of Ireland. This article by Vanessa Curley and Sarah Foley explores the background to how Law Library staff became involved in creating historical exhibitions, the development of a digital archive of The Bar of Ireland and curating online exhibitions to complement this. It will also discuss the benefits of such activities to the Law Library service and the wider Bar of Ireland.

The Irish Bar: An Identity Familiar To All

With Irish bars becoming widespread, this article endeavours to identify what it is that makes the brand of 'Irish Bar' so comforting to its clients.

Who's your Paddy?: racial expectations and the struggle for Irish American identity

Acknowledgments Introduction: Who's Your Paddy? Irish Immigrant Generations in Greater New York 1. From City of Hills to City of Vision: The History of Yonkers, New York 2. Good Paddies and Bad Paddies: The Evolution of Irishness as a Race-Based Tradition in the United States 3. Bar Wars: Irish Bar Politics in Neoliberal Ireland and Neoliberal Yonkers 4. They're Just Like Us: Good Paddies and Everyday Irish Racial Expectations 5. Bad Paddies Talk Back 6. Paddy and Paddiette Go to Washington: Race and Transnational Immigration Politics Conclusion: To BelongNotes Index About the Author

Chants Jazz in Born a Piano Bar

When I first arrived in New York in the late sixties, I began teaching ESL at New York University. I didn`t really think of teaching as a profession for me. I just thought it would pay the rent so I could do what I really wanted to do which was to sing and play ragtime piano in the piano bars. When I got my first piano job in an Irish Bar it was uptown, far away from NYU so I didn`t feel it was necessary to mention this night job to my boss.

Cultural Factors Related to Smoking in San Francisco's Irish Bars

California's Smoke-Free Workplace Act was extended to include bars in 1998. While the majority of bars in the state have become smoke free, in many bars patrons and staff continue to smoke despite the law. The authors present findings from a study which assessed cultural factors related to continued smoking in bars in the city of San Francisco. In bars serving primarily Irish migrants, tight-knit relations within the local Irish bar community together with a reluctance to be the first Irish bar to ban smoking were found to contribute to continued indoor smoking. The findings illustrate challenges to implementing tobacco control policies within ethnic subpopulations and particularly highlight the importance of considering how cultural dynamics within subpopulations may help or hinder such policies.

David or Goliath? The Israel Lobby and Its Critics

Although neither John Mearsheimer nor Stephen Walt speaks much Gaelic, they touched off academic equivalent of an Irish bar brawl in March 2006 by publishing a hard-hitting critique of American relations with Israel in London Review of Books. In The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy, book-length version of that earlier essay, authors pull no punches in recounting what they regard as increasingly baleful influence of the Israel on recent U.S. foreign policy. Mearsheimer and Walt's bid for a knockout rests on two right uppercuts and a left hook that they summarize as follows: the United States provides Israel with extraordinary diplomatic and military support, lobby is principal reason for that support, and this uncritical and unconditional relationship is not in Amer ican national interest (p. 14). Drawing on a broad range of memoirs, news papers, and on-line sources detailed in more than 100 pages of footnotes, authors make a strong showing in this fifteen-round main event. Most scholars will readily agree that during six decades since Harry Truman extended recognition to newly established Jewish state, Amer ica has developed a special if not extraordinary relationship with Israel. Mearsheimer and Walt begin by reminding readers that since May 1948, United States has provided Israel with more than $150 billion in economic aid, with state-of-the-art military hardware (including tanks, jet fighters, and surface-to-air missiles), and with diplomatic support at United Nations and elsewhere. In theory, American rationale for serving as Jewish state's great benefactor seemed compelling. A well-armed Israel could be a stra tegic asset during Cold War by helping to prevent Soviet domination of Middle East, while a democratic Israel built by survivors of Holocaust

The World's Most Dangerous Road (A Bolivian Detour)

The World's Most Dangerous Road (A Bolivian Detour) Jenny Browne (bio) 1 Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both My husband, Scott, and I have this single month in South America, which means we have to make choices, cut out ruins, islands, entire countries. We've met the long haulers: packs of Israelis just out of military service with nine months to travel; the German couple who quit their jobs, sold their houses, and hit the road; the Oregon hippy with his camera and Kerouac. Happy hour at the Irish bar in Cuzco, he crows, "You only have a month?" then grows solemn with purpose. "I'll be in China in a month. You've got to do the Yangtze before it is too late, before everything is ruined." Everything. Ruined. I used to be one of them. I'm not sure what I am now. We're heading to the Salar de Uyuni, the salt flat remains of a prehistoric lake along the Bolivian border with Chile. We've seen pictures of Daliesque landforms, purple mineral-rich mountains, blood red lakes. First stop is La Paz, the highest capital city in the world at nearly 12,000 feet above sea level. The city named for peace is a lung-busting maze of cobbled streets. If something exists, it's for sale in Bolivia. You can buy cell phone minutes from a phone chained to a person who then looks discretely in the other direction. Llama fetuses and little stone fertility statues with huge penises pack the Mercado de Brujas. A fried Spam stand sizzles next to a cart of bootlegged Freddy Mercury CDs next to an open suitcase full of pantyhose. Cries of "You want? You want?" Every square inch along the main promenade of El Prado is packed. One guy followed us for blocks hissing, smokesnortInternet? smokesnortInternet? [End Page 9] We have tickets out. We have film. We have peanut butter. We have Chifa the night before leaving at a place called Discoteca Jackie Chan. Chinese food, Jackie Chan movies, disco dancing, and Bolivia all in one bite? I know but who could resist? I got up early and headed out to find coffee. When I return, Scott is curled into a ball on the bed. He has already thrown up three times. His lips are gray, dry. He is breathing slowly through his mouth. But we have plans. "Do you want some Sprite?" "Uhhhh." "I'll go buy some crackers." "Nuhhhh." "We have to check out in a half hour." "Whuhh." Why do I say stuff like that? Do we really have to check out in a half hour? Did I mention that I had stir-fried vegetables and rice at the Discoteca? Scott had stir-fried vegetables with the fermented black bean sauce. I know. I sit on the lumpy bed in the Hotel Happy Days and watch a badly dubbed and very fuzzy Pulp Fiction on the television in the corner. Eventually, Scott sits up, presses his hands hard into his thighs, and rises to his feet. He leans against the wall carefully and mumbles, "Let's go, I'll be alright." We shuffle downstairs and I hail a cab to get us to the bus station in time for our overnight bus to Uyuni. The gold shag dashboard of the little Rabbit has a bobbling-head pink plastic alien glued to it. The driver grunts and slams the car into gear. Scott presses his cheek against the glass and grips my thigh. The grayness has spread to his hands. We make it about ten blocks of start-screech-stop-honk-grunt. As one prone to motion sickness when he feels fine, Scott's glassy eyes grow panic-stricken, wild. "Tell him to stop now, right now!" "Señor, por favor, mi esposo es enfermo. Aquí es bueno." "No Señora, aquí es peligroso. Esta cerca." "He says it's dangerous here. We're almost there." Scott is clutching his gut, nearly convulsing. I shout at the driver, "Aquí, aquí por favor!" "Esta aquí, aquí." he shouts back. We are there, and to prove it he wildly...

Celtic, Cultural Identities and the Globalization of Football: Notes from the 2003 UEFA Cup Final in Seville

It was mid-afternoon on the humid, sunny eve of the UEFA Cup final in Seville, and I was walking back along the Avenue de la Constitucion in the host city's centre. Awaiting ahead round the corner was Flaherty's Irish bar. across from the city's cathedral, and the main congregation point for hundreds of Celtic fans. From that direction emerged two elegant, East Asian couples, all in late middle age. They stopped and turned their attention to two green-and-white Celtic shirts that the men had just acquired from a streettrader. Upon adorning the shirts, the two men gained joking approval from their spouses; suitably hooped, they continued their stroll through the historic centre of the Andalucian capital. Football's record books note that Celtic lost the 2003 UEFA Cup final in a dramatic 3-2 extra-time defeat to Porto, the Portuguese champions. But the occasion had wider sociological significance in terms of Celtic supporters' social and cultural identity, and the club's international location. In this discussion, I focus on three dimensions of the Seville excursion. First, it is important to reflect on the club's achievement in reaching the final, and on its capacity to draw an exceptionally large and diverse support to Seville. Second, the final provides for some wider sociological observations regarding the internal and external social relations of Celtic fans in Seville. I develop this discussion through the sociological metaphor of religious solidarity (via the ideas of Emile Durkheim), and my prior analyses of

Knick-knack Paddy-whack, Give a Pub a Theme

Few cities in the UK lack an 'authentic' Irish bar, be it O'Neill's, Scruffy Murphy's or Shifty O'Shea's. Theme pubs, like theme parks, theme hotels and theme restaurants, are very big business. Yet the marketing academy seems somewhat reluctant to investigate such establishments, professionally at least. This essay examines the theme pub phenomenon and offers some reflexive reflections on the recent, rapid rise of themed environments. It concludes with some lessons for marketing scholars, contending that excess is the essence of our field. As William Blake observed, the road of excess may lead to the palace of wisdom.

BOOK REVIEW: Colum Kenny.TRISTRAM KENNEDY AND THE REVIVAL OF IRISH LEGAL TRAINING, 1835-1885.Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 1999.

Reviewed by: An Enlightenment Tory in Victorian Scotland: The Career of Sir Archibald Alison Gordon Bigelow (bio) Tristram Kennedy and the Revival of Irish Legal Training, 1835–1885, by Colum Kenny; pp. xviii + 270. Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 1999, £30.00, $45.00. Modernity is a colonial artifact. This is perhaps the central insight of postcolonial criticism for scholarship in nineteenth-century Europe, and it is borne out by the obscure histories brought to light in Colum Kenny’s book on legal education in Victorian Ireland. The standardization of the professions has been a common theme of nineteenth-century cultural history, but it is only recently that we have begun to see liberal institutions like these as products of colonial culture, imported only latterly back into metropolitan use. One useful example of this phenomenon of reverse migration is the brief establishment of a law school in Dublin between 1839 and 1842, a school which, though short-lived, would set standards for the training of lawyers that would be gradually adopted throughout England and Ireland over the course of the next fifty years. Colum Kenny’s book presents this story and the life of its protagonist, Tristram Kennedy, attorney, land agent, off-and-on MP, and founder of the Dublin Law Institute in 1839. British legal training up to this point was carried out by apprenticeship, a system that privileged birth and family connection over ability. Beyond this period of unregulated study, students were only required to “keep” a certain number of terms at one of the inns of court in London. Though seemingly intended to familiarize students with court practice, the requirement was monitored only by the students’ attendance at a fixed number of dinners at the inns for each term. Daniel O’Connell once remarked that under this rule legal training was made a matter of “so many legs of mutton” (x). Dublin had its own Law Society at the King’s Inns, formed in 1541, just a generation after the practice of the Brehons, the legal counselors of Gaelic Ireland, was outlawed by London. But Irish students were forced by the Statute of Jeofailles, passed the following year, to keep terms at one of the London inns before returning to be called to the Irish bar. University graduates could keep a reduced number of terms, but this gave advantage only to the Anglo-Irish elite at Trinity College. Meanwhile, Kenny writes, “training in the common law had been utterly neglected by the universities and the inns of court” (148). In 1838, a Parliamentary commission headed by Irish member Thomas Wyse delivered a report on Irish education. This classic liberal document provided the argument for broadened access to the professions in Ireland, England’s nearest colony until its nominal incorporation into Great Britain with the 1800 Act of Union: “[An] appropriate system of education for the middle class is the [End Page 347] only means by which they may be enabled to acquire and maintain that proper position in society to which they are entitled, and by the maintenance of which the community can be fully protected from the chances of internal disorder” (81). Kennedy founded the Dublin Law Institute the next year, in 1839, setting up formal courses of lectures and providing for the first time an opportunity to train in the law without the patronage of an established practitioner. “Protestant, dissenter, roman catholics [sic], whig, tory, conservative and radical” (87), he argued, should be united in the goal of standardized legal training, given that such a common rule, and the merit-based system it aimed at, would reduce “the chances of internal disorder.” Kennedy’s Institute fell when a Tory government returned to power and canceled its meager support, but its liberal vision would set the program for gradual reforms through the rest of the century. The Statute of Jeofailles, requiring Irish students to attend the English inns, was repealed in 1885, by which time courses and examinations in law were becoming the norm in Irish and English universities. The paradox of these reforms, however, is the great paradox of liberal ideology itself. Conceived as a means to unite all parties, to find the common core of...

A ‘stage Irish identity’ ‐ an example of ‘symbolic power’

This article proposes a notion of a ‘stage Irish identity’ in a bar and applies an analytic concept which explores two intersecting stereotype images which characterise the symbolised identity. The enactment of a ‘stage Irish identity’ in a bar invokes cross‐cutting images of the Irish as inherently prone to drinking and the pub as their natural habitat. For Irish migrant bar keepers, who deploy the symbolised identity as a form of cultural capital to increase pub trade, the strategy is empowering. However, an exploration of a ‘stage Irish identity’ in this form reveals that the essence of the celebrated identity and associated imagery is shot through with ambiguities. Its own identity construct renders an ‘unresolvable contradiction’ because it necessitates Irish people to be simultaneously the target and producers of an image of Irish culture, which is positioned within a structure characterised by unequal power relations. It is my contention that Pierre Bourdieu's concept of ‘symbolic power’ mediates the ambiguities that are evident in this process of social action and contributes to our understanding of how the cultural capital of minority group members, can be positioned and utilised in a power relationship. The argument is based on comparative research on Irish bar entrepreneur ship, particularly the accounts of 42 Irish bar proprietors and their partners, who were trading in Birmingham (UK) and Chicago (USA) in 1993/94.

Surveying an Irish Bar

Through a conversation with Harp Nolan and Mick Mahoney at an Irish bar, Mr. Mannion urges participation in the new AWWA utility survey. The data will be used to help supply water utility information to the federal government.

Erratum

Journal AWWAVolume 81, Issue 10 p. 4-4 ErratumFree Access Erratum This article corrects the following: Surveying an Irish Bar John B. Mannion, Volume 81Issue 10Journal - American Water Works Association pages: 12-12 First Published online: October 1, 1989 First published: 01 October 1989 https://doi.org/10.1002/j.1551-8833.1989.tb03279.xAboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditWechat No abstract is available for this article. Volume81, Issue10October 1989Pages 4-4 RelatedInformation

The old Irish Bar and Bench.

The old Irish Bar and Bench.

The Last Forty Years of the Irish Bar

Forty years ago in my old country the legal world was in a state of transition. The old order was changing in a great number of ways. The Judicature Act had just got into swing and although four Courts still opened in the hall beside the Liffey they were soon to be fused into one. These were at that time the Court of Chancery, the Court of Queen's Bench, the Court of Exchequer, and the Court of Common Pleas, and the doors of these four opened on the Central Hall and their names stood over them. The Court of Chancery stood by itself, but it was thought in those days that you had your choice of three Common Law Courts in which to have your case tried. If you had some merit on your side but thought that the law was against you, you issued your writ in the Queen's Bench, which was presided over by Mickey Morris, as he was invariably called although he was a lord, because Mickey had a good deal of common sense, a great deal of humanity, but his ideas of jurisprudence were peculiarly his own. On the other hand, if you were strongly of opinion that however iniquitous your client was, he had the law on his side, you issued your writ in the Court of Exchequer, presided over by Christopher Palles, the greatest judge before whom I have ever appeared. Christopher Palles decided according to what he believed to be the law, and would pay no attention to any other consideration that might be advanced before him.

The Irish bar: chief Baron Metge

Journal Article The Irish bar: chief Baron Metge Get access W. J. Fitzpatrick, F.S.A. W. J. Fitzpatrick, F.S.A. Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic Google Scholar Notes and Queries, Volume s6-XI, Issue 278, 25 April 1885, Page 334, https://doi.org/10.1093/nq/s6-XI.278.334a Published: 25 April 1885

Englishmen at the Irish bar

Englishmen at the Irish bar

Ballad on the Irish bar, 1730

Ballad on the Irish bar, 1730