WHEN the history of Irish public house decor is finally written, the 1990s will be remembered as the golden age of knick knackery.
In the rush towards fake authenticity, every pub in the country seems to have acquired bits of old or new junk. Any dusty old knick knack will do, so long as it creates the now profitable "traditional" atmosphere.
Publicans have also taken to putting mildewed old hardback books on shelves, for atmospheric display purposes. Woesbetide the man who tries to read any of them!
I once made the mistake of reaching for a tome, and the publican glared at me as if I had spat on his carpet or made lewd advances towards his wife. Normally, you will find that these books have titles like Pig Breeders Annual, 1953 or Pilgrimages in the Holy Land.
What a delight it was to come across a pub with knick knacks of the highest quality. Wandering aimlessly around Kilcullenin Co Kildare, after attending the village's very fine cattle mart, I came across the Hideout pub.
Stuffed Crocodile
This is no repository for the trivial run of the mill baubles that usually adorn the walls of drinking barns in suburban Dublin. Far from it.
As I approach the bar to order my toasted sandwich of ham and cheese, I am greeted by a rather imposing stuffed, knob jawed Indian crocodile; above the bar, I spy one Bengal tiger skin (complete with head and rather menacing teeth); a chunk of the Berlin Wall stands close to the entrance; and there in the corner is the mummified arm of the legendary boxer, Sir Daniel Donnelly.
These are just some of the treasures.
Sir Dan's limb, of course, takes pride of place in what must surely be Ireland's outstanding collection of public house curios. Like most of the knick knacks, the once-feared limb of the pugilist was acquired by a man who is now himself a legend in Kilcullen, the late Jim Byrne.
Some 176 years after his death the name of Dan Donnelly, who fought two of his principal bouts on the Curragh, is still revered in Co Kildare and beyond.
Every year thousands of visitors turn up at Donnelly's Hollow, the natural amphitheatre where the boxer floored the Englishman Hall in front of a crowd of 20,000 and followed the fight up with an even more, celebrated victory over George Cooper. It is considered good luck to follow the footstep taken by Sir Dan as he walked back up the hill from the ring.
Detached Home
So how did the pugilist's famous right arm become detached from his body and find its unorthodox resting place in a bar in Kilcullen?
According to Patrick Myler's biography of the boxer, Regency Rogue, after a funeral attended by 80,000 of his followers in Dublin, the unbeaten boxer was buried in Bully's Acre graveyard at Kilmainham. At that time, bodysnatching - one of the few crimes that seems to have declined in this century - was almost a profession.
Corpses were required for experiments by students of anatomy. With demand far exceeding supply, there was a thriving market in the remains of the dead.
Admirers of the boxer were given the job of protecting Donnelly from the grave robbers after the burial; but according to one forgiving newspaper report, "Their naturally jovial disposition and the severity of the weather prompted them to make too frequent libations on the tomb of the departed champion and disabled them from perceiving or opposing those riflers of the House of Death."
The corpse was purchased by an eminent surgeon, Hall, who removed the right arm to study the muscle structure and was considerate enough to return the rest of the body.
The famous limb was taken to Scotland, where it was scrutinised by medical students at Edinburgh University (unlike their Dublin counterparts, the Scots presumably did not have the gumption to dig up bodies in their spare time).
Donnelly's limb was on the cove again when it was bought by a travelling circus man, who exhibited it throughout the country in a popular and lucrative peep show. The fashion in peep shows in those days appears to have been more ghoulish than pornographic.
After passing through the hands of several more careful owners, including a Belfast bookmaker and publican, Mr Hugh "Texas" McAlevey, in the 1950s it was rescued from an attic and placed in the glass case in the Hideout in by Jim Byrne, a man who also hit the headlines when he organised mongrel dog races in the village.
Resisted Temptation
The boxer might have preferred to remain in one piece after his death, but the pub is quite a suitable resting place for his widely admired right arm. It is only a few miles away from where Donnelly trained and triumphed under the management of a Kildare man, the unconventional Captain William Kelly, "one of the mad Kellys of Maddenstown".
Sporting" Captain Kelly enjoyed gambling and was known to bet on such ludicrous happenings as which of two flies would leave a wall first. Donnelly's biographer, Myler, describes Kelly as "a noted horse owner and eccentric, whose other interests included playing the uilleann pipes and joining in the popular family diversion of dancing in their pelts".
The Hideout is also a suitable resting place for the arm because the boxer was a notorious tippler. During his preparation for fights, Donnelly resisted the temptation to indulge in harsh physical training.
According to Myler's account, in the run up to his last major bout against Tom Oliver "he rarely went to bed without a bottle of whiskey for company, unless it was with a fair wench procured on regular diversions from his training camp."
The origin of Donnelly's knighthood has been the subject of feverish speculation among boxing historians. The story goes that the Prince Regent, himself a boxing fan, knighted Donnelly when they were both drunk at a party.
According to other accounts, however, the title may have been bogus.