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Irish Pubs pour it on for St. Patty’s DayWithin walking —
or stumbling — distance of Boston’s Quincy Market
by
Jack P. Terceño
Few things chill an Irishman’s heart — or even
the heart of a man who is half Irish — faster than a waitress saying the
Guinness taps aren’t working. I feel a quiver of unease ripple through my belly
when I am told that during a recent trip to Boston. The unease is coupled with
hope — as unease and misery always seem to be in the Irish spirit — as the
waitress says she will go check at the bar, and I start to believe my Guinness
will be forthcoming, despite her initial warning. I watch her go, wondering
what the point of coming to an Irish pub in Boston is if you can’t get a
Guinness.
The Rose is different. Firstly, it’s one of the
older pubs in the area (though its thirty years can’t compete with J.J.
Donovan’s age, which I’ll get to soon enough). There are two floors, both with
dining and bar areas, and both with stages. The Rose offers live music every day
of the week, and it’s usually got an Irish influence. On the second floor,
where I sit awaiting my beverage fate, the walls are green, the floor is tiled
in green and covered in natural wood, the booths are dark-stained wood and the
windows are many and large, opening the room up to the outside world, making
the space feel even bigger than it is. The walls are adorned with Celtic murals
of ancient soldiers fighting dragons, and gold Celtic-design dragons serve as
borders above the window frames. There is a wall separating the dining tables
from the bar area, which helps serious drinkers know where they belong. The
downstairs has the same basic layout and the same high windows, and Irish
family crests adorn one wall while banners hand from the ceiling. The music
coming from the bar area is mostly from the 1980s, of the Top 40 variety for
which the Irish seem to have a special affinity — Flock of Seagulls, Dexy’s
Midnight Runners, The Police singing “Roxanne” — but the volume is low enough
that the tunes don’t intrude on the dining area, and don’t force the bar crowd
to shout at each other. That level of noise comes later in the night,
when the live bands perform. Last time I was in the Rose was about a year
ago, and that time I also was in Boston for the New England Press Association’s
Annual Convention, as I am this night. After a Friday full of seminars, a small
group of us came to the Rose and proceeded to get stuffed on great food and
knackered on great drink. There was a band that night, and things got loud, and
we had a fantastic time, even though they wouldn’t let us dance on the second
floor. (There was a second band playing downstairs, and that’s where the
dancers held sway.) My best memory of the Rose is from two years
ago, however, on that most special of nights for the Irish in America: St.
Patrick’s Day. I and several friends spent that St. Patty’s Day bar-hopping
around the Quincy Market area, which has more bars than most people realize.
Early in the night we considered going into the Black Rose, but there didn’t
seem to be much happening so we decided to wait until later. That is a mistake
I’ll not make again. When we returned to the Rose around 10 p.m., there was a
huge crowd out front waiting to get in. Through the high windows, we could see
the crowd waving their arms, lifting their full glasses of dark stout and
singing along with the Irish band that played downstairs. I have seldom if ever
seen such a large group of people so universally joyous, and I envied them
their spot inside the Róisín Dubh. New Rose manager Dayton Joline says the
“madness” I witnessed that night happens every March 17, and he is looking
forward to being a part of it for the first time. Traditional Irish dishes like
corned beef and cabbage and shepherd’s pie will be served for lunch, but the
drinkers will outnumber diners by the afternoon. “We won’t be serving food at
night,” Joline says, “because it’ll just be madness in here.” The Rose has booked Irish bands Sunday’s Well to
play the downstairs stage and the Celtic Clan (“genuine Irish lads playing
genuine Irish music”) to play upstairs, and Joline expects the Rose to be so
packed they’ll be turning people away by early evening. “We actually take out a
lot of the furniture to make room for the guests,” he says. “I expect there to
be a lot of good music, a lot of good fun. It’ll be a great time.” That great time will be shared by more than 350
people, young and old, tourist and local, Irish and other. While the bar can
hold more than 400, Joline says the Rose likes to keep the crowd below maximum
to enhance every guest’s experience. “We like to keep it a little less packed,”
he says. “If you keep some of the crowd out, make some elbow room, everybody
has a better time. It can be a lot of lot of fun for everyone who’s there.” Kiss Me I’m... Mexican?
One of the Rose’s sister pubs is a couple of
blocks south on Milk Street, and will offer a slightly skewed version of the
traditional St. Patty’s Day celebration — but then, this pub offers a slightly
skewed version of an Irish pub 365 days a year, as is obvious by the name “Jose
McIntyre’s” above the front door.
On St. Patty’s Day, Jose McIntyre’s also closes
its kitchen after lunch to make room for the serious drinkers that consider
this our — um, I mean “their” — annual holiday. “It’s nuts,” says manager Paul
Wilson in his Irish lilt. “From three o’clock in the afternoon, it’s just
ridiculous.” He smiles, an Irish grin that tells you by nuts and ridiculous he
means it’s the best time one could imagine. “It’s great fun.” As one might guess, McIntyre’s isn’t as
traditionally Irish as the Black Rose when it comes to St. Patty’s Day. The
band that will be playing downstairs from three in the afternoon to one the
next morning is The Return, a local rock band that doesn’t specialize in Irish
music. Upstairs, a DJ will be spinning tunes, some of which are likely to be
Irish, but most of which will be chosen to get the younger crowd up on their
feet and out on the dance floor. Such large crowds packed into a bar and drinking
heavily might sound like a recipe for disaster, or a little competitive
blood-letting at least, but those who have spent St. Patty’s Day in an Irish
pub know there is something about the atmosphere that dissuades rather than
invites fighting. Wilson verified that belief regarding McIntyre’s
celebrations, which he said have never included a fight. “It’s one of those
nights when everyone just has a good time,” he says. “We don’t have any
problems.” The Old Man on the Block
Those looking for a real Irish night out March
17 might be better served at J.J. Donovan’s, though. Located in the center of
Quincy’s North Market Shops, Donovan’s is a Boston institution: it has been
serving patrons since 1826, when the Donovan family first opened the doors. The
same family still owns the pub, which manages to be authentically Irish without
having to work at it. Boasting the lowest drink prices in the
marketplace, Donovan’s also was for decades the only pub in the area that
didn’t charge a cover on St. Patty’s Day. That changed last year, when the pub
charged a $5 cover and donated all the money for cystic fibrosis research. That
charitable cover will probably be charged again this year.
Donovan’s is a small, comfortable bar with Irish
decorations and the feel of a neighborhood pub in the midst of Boston’s biggest
tourist attraction. That makes it a good place for the real Irish to celebrate
their patron saint’s holiday, and for those who like real pub atmosphere
without a lot of noise to enjoy a pint of beer. A bagpiper will be wandering
about the bar blowing his pipes throughout the evening, and T-shirts, hats and
other memorabilia will be given away. Beyond that, the Donovan’s philosophy is
to let the patrons make the night what they want it to be. “March Madness
[college basketball tournament] starts the same day,” McGrillen says, “so we’ll
be packed as soon as the doors open at 11 a.m. Things will start to slow down
around midnight.” The Jewel of Quincy’s Pubs
Kitty herself is an infamous figure in Irish
history, the English wife of an Irish Parliament member who had an affair with
Irish nationalist Charles Stewart Parnell in the 1880s. Many blame that affair
for Ireland’s failure to secure Home Rule at the time. That legend and the
pub’s sisters in Ireland have helped draw Irish tourists into Kitty’s
throughout the last year. “Anybody that’s visiting [Boston] will certainly
recognize the name,” says Leonard, “because we’re in Dublin and Galway. So they
come in and check us out.” Invariably, they come back, because Kitty’s first
floor is a stunning replica of a Victorian pub, with a welcoming atmosphere
that invites return. Upstairs, the Irish theme gives way to a French bistro
(the bar and woodwork are from Ireland, other artifacts are from France), meant
to honor Ireland’s debt to the French General Humbert, who tried to aid the
Irish insurrection against the British at the end of the eighteenth century. This year, Kitty’s will celebrate its second St.
Patty’s Day in Boston with the Celtic Clan playing folk music and traditional
Irish ballads downstairs from 2 to 7 p.m. (before the band makes the short trip
across the street to play at the Black Rose), and Leonard is hoping WROC will
broadcast from the second floor again that afternoon. The traditional Irish
band Walpole’s March will play upstairs from 5 p.m. to closing, and Jacob’s
Plea will take the stage downstairs following the Celtic Clan. “The food and
music will be really good, and the atmosphere is authentic,” Leonard says. “Why
not go to Ireland in the United States?” Meanwhile, my waitress at the Black Rose has
come back with more than just good news: she’s brought me a pint of thick dark
foam through which blackness is steadily settling to form Guinness stout,
growing from the bottom of the glass like night spreading across the sea. When it
has settled, I take an exploratory sip that awakens my taste buds and leaves a
line of foam across my upper lip that makes me imagine an ad saying “Got
Guinness?” The Guinness taps at the Black Rose are working just fine, and along
with the other pubs around Quincy Market, they’ll likely pour enough of
Ireland’s signature stout to fill the great “Black Pool” harbor from which
Dublin takes its name. A Word About Hotels
Quincy Market is one of the best areas to visit
if you are coming to Boston. In addition to some great Irish Pubs, its got
wonderful restaurants, night clubs and a myriad of shops both familiar and
unique. Within walking distance is the New England Aquarium, and the Freedom
Trail that marks many Revolutionary War-era locales begins beside Faneuil Hall
at the west end of the marketplace. There are also some great hotels in the area,
and elsewhere in Boston, and to really enjoy the city you should stay as close
to downtown as you can. This is generally expensive, unfortunately, but you can
find some decent rooms at fairly reasonable prices at http://Boston4less.com.
Keep in mind that in the world of Boston hotels, “for less” typically means for
less than $200 a night. Personally, I can recommend the Harborside Inn on State
Street, just a block from the Black Rose and Kitty O’Shea’s, and only two
blocks from the aquarium. Though a little expensive — double occupancy starts
around $150 a night during the off-season — the hotel is beautiful and the
rooms have exposed brick walls and classic furniture. Amenities are few, but
the breakfast is good and the location is fantastic. One of my favorite Boston hotels is the Long
Wharf Marriott, right on the water at Boston Harbor just north of Quincy
Market. Though the area is being torn apart by the “Big Dig” construction
project that will create a tunnel and eliminate the need for an above-ground
I-93 in the area, the Marriott is a beautiful hotel with great rooms,
incredible views and wonderful service. Again, the price is a little high, but
sometimes you can get special deals. The hotel I cannot recommend, and in fact warn
against, is where I stayed in early February and once before in 1998, both
times for the New England Press Association Annual Convention. The Boston Park
Plaza on Arlington Street, just two blocks from the Public Gardens and near the
Theatre District, is a bad hotel in a great location. For $200 a night you can
get a small, cramped room with ugly, cheap furniture (only two drawers in the
single “dresser” for a double-occupancy room), paint peeling off the bathroom
ceiling and some of the ugliest bedspreads and curtains I have seen this side
of the 1960s. The Park Plaza is Boston’s only hotel listed on the National
Registrar of Historic Places, and I can’t help but suspect one of the requirements
for that listing is that nothing has been updated in at least fifty years.
Though it might have a reputation as one of the city’s premiere luxury hotels,
there is little luxury here. While the web site lists a data port in the rooms,
there was none in mine, and the “spa” listed on the website is actually an
arrangement with the YWCA to allow Park Plaza guests free use of their pool and
sauna — two blocks away. A breakfast of juice, two eggs, bacon, sausage or ham,
cereal and coffee delivered to your room will cost you — after you add the five
percent sales tax, the automatic 15 percent gratuity and a $2.50 delivery
charge per order (which makes me wonder why I’m paying a gratuity to someone
who is being paid extra to deliver) — comes out to $18 per person. Add that to a faulty phone system that rang
three times in one night — at 1 a.m., 4:30 a.m. and 8 a.m. — when there was no
actual incoming call, and a false fire alarm at 6 a.m. Saturday morning that
drove all guests into the lobby — neither of which disturbance the hotel
offered any apology or deduction for, not even a free drink in the lounge — and
I cannot advise strongly enough against staying at the Park Plaza. Images by: Jack Terceño |
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TM
I am sitting in the Róisín Dubh, or Black Rose,
an “authentic” Irish Pub on the southeast side of Quincy Market, at the corner
of State Street. I use the quotes because the Rose
is owned by a corporate franchise that owns several other pubs in the area,
some of which are little more than Irish-oriented versions of TGIFriday’s or
Bennigans. Some of the company’s other pubs nearby — The Purple Shamrock just
north of Faneuil Hall’s front doors, Coogan’s Bluff just two blocks south of
the Rose, Clery’s in Back Bay (see 
The name derives from a fictional Irish/Mexican
hero of the Mexican Civil War, during which many Irish “undesirables” were
shipped to Mexico and once there joined the fight for freedom. Along with a
willingness to fight, they brought some of their favorite foods and the Irish
love of good beer. } The “McIntyre” side of the pub
is most visible on the first floor, where “Eíre” banners with Celtic knots hang
everywhere, the walls are exposed brick and just before the staircase are
paintings of famous Irish writers like Oscar Wilde, James Joyce and Samuel
Beckett. Upstairs is Jose’s house, where colorful Aztec-inspired paintings
cover most of the wall space and the bar is covered in glass tiles of green and
red and yellow, the red and yellow blending together in hues that look a lot
like a Tequila Sunrise drink. The McIntyre’s menu
attests to the “Micks and Spics” character of the pub, offering nachos,
quesadillas and enchiladas beside such sandwiches as the Connemara Classic
(grilled honey mustard, bacon, and Swiss cheese), the Galway Gobbler (roast
turkey, bacon, Swiss and Thousand Islands dressing) and the standard of American
Irish pubs, bangers and mash. (For those of you who don’t know, bangers are
sausages and “mash” refers to the potato preparation.)
Other than that, Donovan’s makes no special
effort to attract people to its two-level bar March 17. “We’re going to open
the doors,” says Conor McGrillen, a nine-year veteran behind the Donovan’s bar.
“That’s basically all we have to do.” 
Even Donovan’s — Americanized as it is by nearly
two centuries serving Boston’s thirsty — cannot compete for authenticity with
the youngest of the Quincy Market area pubs, Kitty O’Shea’s ( 
Atmosphere is what makes Kitty’s a great Irish
pub, and it’s an atmosphere that emanates from every item in the place. The
entire pub, from chairs and tables to wall decorations to the bars themselves,
were shipped here from Ireland and put together to create what may be the most
authentic Irish pub in a city known for its Irish heritage. The beautiful light-stained pitch pine floors were taken from a two
hundred-year-old Belfast church, and the stained glass windows depicting Irish
scenes were custom-made in Dublin, where the original Kitty O’Shea’s, opened by
the Loughney brothers in 1981, sits on Grand Canal Street. (The brothers also
own Kitty O’Shea’s pubs in Galway, Ireland; Belgium; Spain; and France.) Even
Leonard is an original, born in Ireland’s County Mayo before moving to Boston a
few years ago.