Every pub has its stories. They tend to be steeped in history, folklore and tradition. Especially in the Orchard county where you’re likely to hear of outlaws and bandits, shebeens and creaky floorboards at night!
Then there are pubs like Rafferty’s Bar on Thomas Street, Armagh. For therein, you’re likely to be met by proprietor, Berny Rafferty, who has as many stories as you’re willing to hear. Few are quite what you’d expect!
Berny has been at the helm of Rafferty’s – also known as The Cuchulain Bar – for 40 years. Before that, he learned the ropes in the bustling pubs of Dublin and London, bidding a temporary farewell to his home town in order to chase the hubub of big city life.
Recalling his departure from Armagh, Berny said: “At that time, when you left Armagh to find work, half the time the street would be out waving handkerchiefs and crying as if they’d never see you again. Although in my case, I couldn’t get close enough to see whether they were crying or smiling!”
He eventually returned and took over the corner pub with his then girlfriend – now wife – Cathy.
Together, they have forged many memories and plotted many plans… all of it a learning curve.
Of his time as a publican, Berny joked: “Have I made mistakes, yes. Have I enjoyed it, most times. Do I like going to work every day, definitely not! There’s days I don’t want to see the place.
“The bar job is like every other job. Some days you just can’t be bothered, however, ‘must do’ is an awful master.”
Like all public house owners, Berny has standout memories that have now become talking points with his patrons… something to entertain them with over a jar or two.
Sharing one with Armagh I, he recalled: “Our career in Thomas Street was nearly a short shift over one instance… The bar at that stage had both a bar and a lounge and these young lads landed and asked me could they use the lounge area on a certain Saturday afternoon for a gig.
“They said there would probably be 30 or 40 people coming to listen to the band. I was only 24-years-old at the time and readily agreed. On the day of the gig the band entered and set up. There was something different about them, they were dressed as punk rockers!
“When they started, I remember the bar door kept opening and more and more punk rockers kept coming in. I had to stop admittance because of bar capacity, so they sat on the pavement outside. The supposed 30 or 40 turned into over 200. I remember Cathy saying to me ‘what are we going to do?’ and me saying, ‘Keep serving!’
“But then the bar door opened and I could see about 50 Armagh Saturday afternoon shoppers standing across the road staring. They had probably never seen as many face piercings, dyed spiked hair and tartan trousers. There were more pins on show than a factory could make in a month!
“I remember going out into the back hall and putting my hands on my head and looking up at the ceiling and saying to myself ‘Oh my God, what have I done?’ After a couple of seconds I shook myself and said, ‘I’ll just have to wing it!’
“Then a strange thing happened… The door opened and about five or six elderly ladies came in and ordered drink. While at the bar they told me they were in to see their nephews. Half an hour later, when I went down to the lounge, they were up pogoing with the punks!”
Berny said a great night was had by all with not even so much as a glass broken. He later found out several of the ‘punks’ were trainee barristers, medical students and others held very respectable jobs.
“The day taught me a good lesson… you can never judge a book by its cover,” he said.
Then Sunday opening came along. For years pubs in Ireland had been prohibited from serving alcohol on what was traditionally known as ‘The Lord’s Day’.
Pub owners were naturally elated with the change. But Berny was too long in the tooth to believe it would go off without a hitch!
“I wasn’t so sure myself as it meant seven day opening and I had known by my experiences in England with extended hours that people only had so much money to socialise,” he said. “I went with it and I will never forget my first Sunday.”
And so begins another of the publican’s parables: “Myself and Cathy were cleaning – which she still does to this day – then we heard chanting outside. I looked out the window and saw about a dozen people with placards.
“They turned out to be born again Christians who took grievance with the Sunday opening hours. I said I better go out and speak to these people.
“As soon as I stepped outside they stopped chanting and looked at me. I suppose I was staring at them too! After a few seconds they took to their heels and ran down Dobbin Street.
“One of them dropped their placard so I lifted it and ran after them, shouting ‘I only wanted to talk’. With hindsight it probably wasn’t such a good idea to chase someone down the street! I kept the placard for years afterwards waiting for someone to come and pick it up. They never did.”
A painting of the premises gifted to the Rafferty’s by Cathy’s niece, Sheela McGuffin
It’s common knowledge in local bars that regular customers become ‘part of the furniture’ but to those who serve them every day, they become an important part of life.
“Over the years we have had a lot of locals pass away and it always takes a piece of me when it happens,” said Berny. “At the minute, a local that’s been with me from the start isn’t well and he’s never far from my thoughts. I have to say the locals I have now are brilliant. You can leave your wallet and phones on the bar and go to the toilet or smoke room and they won’t be touched. Nowadays, that’s a rarity.
“Our locals have a great sense of humour and in the morning they call me ‘The Doctor’, and in the afternoon ‘Honest Berny’.”
To the outsider looking in, bar life can seem idyllic. Like a home from home where there’s constant craic. But good old Honest Berny can always be relied upon to tell it how it is.
“The bar is probably one of the hardest jobs to do,” said Berny. “The public only see you standing behind the bar and everyone wants to own a pub. They don’t see the hours before and after opening and closing. I have seen people taking on bars after a few months the rude awakening hits them and they sell up.
“When I first took on Thomas Street a lady publican who had a bar on The Shambles gave me some advice. She said, ‘To be a publican you have to be a rare breed. One minute you can be the best thing since sliced bread and the next minute you can be the biggest dirty rat in town.’ I always minded her advice.”
The fact is, hospitality is a struggling industry in Northern Ireland. And Berny has his own thoughts on why this might be.
He explained: “The bars in Ireland always had the reputation of being the best in the world. People, when they are abroad flock to Irish bars, but they don’t do it when they are at home. The bars here are closing at an alarming rate.
“When I came to Thomas Street there were five working bars, one had just closed and turned into a pipe shop. Now Rafferty’s stands alone as the only bar in the street. When I was growing up, there were 43 public houses in Armagh city and a friend of mine who was ten years older could remember seventy!
“Now, even though the population of the city has grown, there are only ten working bars left.
“Most people would have blamed Covid and the smoking ban for the demise of pubs in Ireland but I believe it started earlier in 2007/2008. We have never got back after that crash. In a 2008 Oxford University survey, the only city in England, Scotland and Wales and the six counties that wasn’t affected by the recession was Armagh.
Rafferty’s “smallest beer garden in Ireland”
“The reason being is that Armagh city never got any of the Celtic Tiger benefits and was always in recession so it just staggered on. The second part of the survey looked at the highest house prices per capital and again Armagh came out at number one.”
Berny said it was to do with Armagh becoming a “commuter town” and he often warned young people to not let their houses become their prisons and that they can afford to live. He believes high house prices had a lot to do with an increase in at-home drinking, too.
Said Berny: “If a father brings his son to the pub for his 18th birthday and buys him a pint, the next weekend the young lad goes out to the off licence with his friends and spots the beer in a can and they all buy it.”
But to the long-standing business owner, pubs are a “social thing”, where you meet different people, maybe even the love of your life, and sometimes even get job offers!
Talking about some of his premises’ most quirky details, Berny said: “I’ve always had an awful draw to Thomas Street, which I couldn’t explain, but then a few years ago, a man came into the bar and gave me a document.
“The document was a copy of the 1840 New Directory. When I went down through the list of publicans and Tavern keepers I came across a Bernard Rafferty (my own name and my father’s name) and a Patrick Rafferty (my brother and my grandfather’s name). I find it strange that there were two Rafferty pubs in Thomas Street before 1840. I have always meant to research it but haven’t yet found the time.”
He’s also the very proud owner of “the smallest beer garden in Ireland”! After knocking through into the old women’s toilets to create an outdoor smoking area, Berny said the council planning officials just about passed it as legal with just 3mm of clearance!
