The Village Pubs of Cork: 'I don’t have customers, I have friends... they’re like my village family'

The village of Ballinacurra, at the end of the Ballinacurra River, which follows the estuary from Roches Point, was once a bustling maritime hub filled with schooners and malt-filled barges destined for Guinness’s at St James’ Gate in Dublin.

Keeping a record of the vibrant activity at the port, was the Port of Cork Harbourmaster assigned to Ballinacurra, Jacko Creenan.

Jacko happened to be the proprietor of The Brooklands Bar, which was known locally as Jacko’s, and is still known as that today where it still stands at the edge of Ballinacurra village.

Today it is under the stewardship of Jacko’s daughter Nina Byrne. Five generations in, she has run the bar since 1973 and took over outright after Jacko passed away in the year 2000.

“I don’t have customers, I have friends. They’re my family. We’re all part of each other’s lives,” Nina says humbly, seated in her sitting room above the pub.

“I can trace the licence back to the 1870s,” she says. “My great-great-grandfather William Cox had it. Then my grandmother, Mary Cox, took over. She married my grandfather, who came down from Skerries on a boat. They called their schooner the Brooklands and that’s what the pub is called to this day.”

Nina’s grandfather and uncle captained the Brooklands, which was the last working sailing schooner in the British Isles. She traded coal from Wales, clay from Cloyne to Arklow, and Liscannor flagstones from County Clare - and during World War II, she moved goods up and down the Irish Sea.

“She was known as the Queen of the Sea,” Nina says. “We launched a book about her here in the bar.

“I still have visitors from Arklow and New Ross who come in asking about schooners that docked here.”

While Midleton and its surrounds is not overtly associated with coastal activity, Nina is quick to remind people that Ballinacurra was once a vital maritime hub, with two working quays and Guinness stores operating well into the 1960s.

“My father became harbourmaster in 1950. He kept records of every ship that came in- wind, speed, tide, when the gaslights went on at the quay... I still have all his logs. Volumes of them.”

Further qualifying Jacko’s as a maritime pub is the Jacko Creenan Cup, a boat race named in honour of her father, which is part of Cobh Sailing Club’s annual test up the Ballinacurra River.

Despite many of the challenges facing rural pubs outlined in this series, Nina has a steady flow of customers.

“I open at half-ten every morning. We have the morning crew, the evening crew, and the night crew. There’s great banter. No-one takes offence, and if they do, they’re in the wrong place.” She says with a smile.

She doesn’t do shots, doesn’t serve food, and doesn’t buy into passing trends.

“I run a proper old-fashioned pub,” she says firmly. “A fella came in during the 12 pubs of Christmas one time and asked for a double sambuca, I told him, ‘You’ll be down on the floor by seven. Be a man, have a pint’. He came back and thanked me later”

There’s laughter in her voice, but also discipline and care. “Once you’re barred, you’re barred for life,” she adds with a smile. “You don’t come in the back door or through the skylight.”

Nina never had children of her own, however she plays a maternal role in her community. “I’m the mammy of the place. Young fellas would tell me, ‘I’ve a date tonight’ or ‘I’m off to Cork.’ I’d tell them, ‘Mind yourselves. Watch out for one another. And don’t cause trouble or I’ll hear about it if you do’.’”

Her customers, in turn, are loyal. “During covid, they brought me apple tarts on Fridays, scones on Saturdays, queen cakes on Sundays. Every day, someone rang to check on me.”

While many rural pubs across Ireland closed their doors during the pandemic, Nina keeps Jacko’s alive through the friendships she has forged with her customers and the wider community.

“I was reared to look after people,” she says “And they look after me in return.”

Even now, with a recent injury that limits her mobility, Nina still pops down to the bar five or six times a day.

“I have to keep up with the gossip,” she says. “I mightn’t be pulling pints anymore, but I’m still part of it.”

The bar’s layout and style remain largely unchanged. “People said, ‘Why don’t you add a lounge?’ But what for? I know every customer by name. I’ve no need for a lounge.

“I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s this way as long as I remember it.”

Of the many memories Nina has, the first time she saw a woman drinking in the bar stands out.

“She came in the door and there was a big open fire. We’d be talking about the mid-1960s. And she came in and she sat down. And she’d a drop of whisky. And we’d say for 10 minutes there was stone silence. Pure silence. And then she started talking to them all. And then she came down one night a week. And then eventually women started coming in.”

And as a woman in 1965 having grown up in a pub, how was it witnessing that? “I was delighted,” she says. “Absolutely delighted.”

Nina sees herself as a mediator in the community, a point of contact across generations.

“It’s about keeping the link going. I have young people coming in now, and I can tell them stories about the old days or about their fathers and grandfathers. People say young people don’t care, but they do. You’d be amazed how much they care, if you give them your time.”

As for the future of Irish pubs?

“I think things will come full circle,” she says. “There are so many new houses in villages like this. People won’t want to drive into the city. They’ll want the comfort of a local. That’s my reading of it. But someone has to have the interest, and you have to be there yourself.”

And the shift toward non-alcoholic drinks?

“They have a life span. Everything does. First it was gin and tonic, then vodka, then Pernod. The only things that last are Guinness, Murphy’s, the lagers, and the banter.”

If pub trends have a life span, and the need for the rural pub is set to come full circle, then it’s Nina, and those like her, who have never chased the latest fad, who will set a new trend by steering the ship steadily home and bringing the rural pub back to life.