The Lamplighters of the Phoenix Park: illuminating social history

The Flanagan family are connected to the Phoenix Park for nearly 150 years and the 1882 assassinations, the repair of the Wellington Monument, the glory days of the racecourse and other events and places are all part of their collective family memory. Going about their work as lamplighters, they’ve met presidents, ambassadors and numerous others who live or work in the park. But like the gas lamps that they light and maintain, theirs is a dying trade. “The Flanagans are the last outpost of something that was once commonplace and now exists exclusively within the walled Phoenix Park.”

This meticulously researched and highly readable book tells the story of the park, with a major contribution from 92-year-old Frank Flanagan and his 79-year-old brother James. A useful timeline, stretching from the creation of a royal deer park in 1662 to the changes caused by Covid, is followed by a brief history of the lighting of Dublin city and of the park itself. Its opening was “one of the defining changes to the Dublin of the 17th century” and its development during the 18th century tells much about the changing city and its place within the empire, with military and residential buildings added: what had been the park ranger’s residence became the Viceregal Lodge, the Magazine Fort was built, Chesterfield Avenue was laid out and the Zoo and People’s Garden arrived.

When Nicholas Flanagan and his four brothers became lamplighters in 1890, there were over 300 gas lamps; now the latter are largely restricted to Chesterfield Avenue and immediate surrounding roads. They went out in all weathers, seven days a week. Lamps had to be lit manually with poles and as timers were as yet unknown, they’d also to be extinguished manually. Incidents during the long independence struggle are recounted and the 1932 Eucharistic Congress kept the Flanagan family busy (their memories of John Paul II’s 1979 visit are also recorded). During the second World War, Chesterfield Avenue became the “New Bog Road” as turf was stacked there to fuel Dublin’s fireplaces. The family’s links to park monuments, such as the “headless horseman” Field-Marshal Gough, the Wellington Testimonial and cross in the ground at the 1882 assassinations’ site are entertainingly explored.

A most interesting story expertly told and with very fine illustrations.