FULL OF HISTORICAL FACTS , anecdotes and Dublin wit, this book evokes the spirit, the characters and colours, the sights, sounds and even the smells of old Dublin. With sections on markets, pawn shops, street characters, the liberties, slang and wit and Dublins newspapers, the citys history is traced right back to Brian Boru, the Huguenots, the debtors prison, and Dublins troubled history of risings and revolutions.
TWENTY YEARS A-PUBLISHING
THIS IS A VERY SPECIAL BOOK TO ME . It was the very first book to carry The OBrien Press imprint. The Press was founded in the previous year by my father Thomas OBrien and myself. MeJewel was launched in The Stags Head, Dublin on 15 November 1974, without the author, as he was a guest of the nation in Portlaoise Jail! Most of the book was written in Mountjoy, following Eamonns conviction for being editor of AnPhoblacht (which caused quite a controversy at the time). I collected the book, hand-written in a series of ledgers when I visited Eamonn in the Joy what a start to a publishing career! In a letter to my father (15/8/1973) Eamonn wrote James Joyce locked himself in the tower at Sandycove for twelve months to write his book I dont see much difference between the tower and Mountjoy.
Rosaleen, Eamonns wife, launched the first edition in his absence, and its been in print ever since, in various editions, shapes and colours. The first edition was in hardback at 4.20, and it was an instant success. Despite obstructions put in our way, from strange quarters, the great Dublin public loved it.
Before I became a publisher I lived as an artist, mainly drawing views of Dublin, and so these drawings were used to illustrate the first edition of the book. For this anniversary edition, published exactly twenty years later, we have added some new illustrations, dropped some of the originals and revised the text.
The first edition was printed by E & T OBrien, of 11 Clare Street, Dublin, a company founded by my father in 1948, where myself, and several sisters and a brother, and indeed my mother Ann, worked over the years. This printing operation continues today as OBrien Printing, run by my brother Dermot and his family.
Eamonn of course received a copy of the first edition, and here is an extract from what he wrote:
Portlaoise jail,Sunday17 November74IwaswithyouinspiritintheStagsHeadImholdingmyownlittlepressconferenceinmycell,sofarIvehadtwelvewithabouttenateachconference
This edition marks the twentieth anniversary of The OBrien Press and sadly also the twentieth anniversary of my fathers death he died on 7 December 1974, and would be eighty if he was alive today.
Looking back over that twenty years, and after publishing nearly 500 books, Im pleased that my decision was to continue with the Press. I thank all those who helped, and in particular my wonderful colleagues. My mother is alive to help us celebrate, and so is amonn MacThomis, who can now at last attend the relaunch of this new edition after all that time.
MichaelOBrien,October1994
HighStreet,oncethemainstreetofDublin,wheremostoftheoriginalbuildingshavenowbeendemolished,andnewdevelopmenthastakenplace.ThefrontofSt.AudeonsChurchappearsinthecentreofthedrawing.
TWENTY YEARS AGO I SAT DOWN in my prison cell No. 28 D Wing twenty paces from the hanghouse where Kevin Barry went to his death on 1 November 1920, and I asked myself: What will I do to pass the time?
Some of the prisoners were making wallets, handbags and other lovely leather products. Others were constructing harps, houses and crosses with matchsticks. Others still were painting handkerchiefs in colours of the rainbow. But none of these fine things was for me. I was a dunce at school and I was still a dunce with no skill in my hands, no skills in my mind, hopeless with paints or matchsticks, except when I used to race matchsticks down the gutter on a rainy day in old Kilmainham. My matchsticks were always among the first three that was because I half-broke them and this gave them a better chance to float in the rainwater and move swiftly along to the winning post at Jenkins corner shop at the end of the steep hill. Then I got to thinking about my childhood, the people I had met, the places I had seen, about Dublin and its people.
I opened up my writing pad and took out a long sheet of shiny paper and an envelope and I penned my first letter from Mountjoy.
DearMrOBrien,
IknowthatyouknowmeandIsortofknowyouandIthinkwemetonafewoccasions.Anyway,youknowwhereIamnowandIwasthinkingofwritingabook,yes,abookaboutDublinanditspeople.IhaventatitleforthebookyetbutImworkingonafewideas.Thecontentswouldbeasfollows:TheopeningchapterwouldbetheFourpennyRushthroughachildseyes,aDublinPennyandStreetGames.ThenthebookwouldmovealongintotheoldwaysofPawnshops,ComedyKings,Newspapers,SlangandStreetCharacters.StreetCharacterslikeBangBang,HairyLemon,TheYankPattersonandShell-shockJoeandMaryAllParcelsandNancyNeedleballs.IwouldthenseetheDublinskylineinallitsbeautyandcolour.Thespiresanddomes,greenandbrown,wouldleadmeintotheSound,SmellandColourofDublin.TheLibertieswouldgetspecialmentionandallthehistoricalgreats.IdliketoincludeafewspecialplacesliketheBackofthePipes,theFiveLamps,thePortofDublinandthePhoenixPark.The
