Ssssh! Men at work

The lack of protest at the Nissan Irish Open over Portmarnock Golf Club's archaic ban on female members is disconcerting, writes…

The lack of protest at the Nissan Irish Open over Portmarnock Golf Club's archaic ban on female members is disconcerting, writes Suzanne Breen

Women are welcome at Portmarnock Golf Club - as cleaners, waitresses, bar staff and kitchen helpers. They're working hard this week, serving the rich and powerful men who are overjoyed their club is hosting the Nissan Irish Open.

There is nothing like an apparent stamp of approval, especially when the National Council for Women is shouting sexism and the Equality Authority has dragged you before the courts. In the face of what one member described as "this leftie-lesbian onslaught", the old boys aren't flinching. They're sipping their G&Ts, exchanging business news and expressing outrage that anyone is challenging their right to do exactly as they please.

Women can play on certain days as the guest of a member but are barred from joining themselves. Still, there is a ladies' changing room. It's fragrant and old-fashioned, befitting what is valued in visiting females. There's an oak dresser, a bowl of pink potpourri, candles and a pile of fluffy towels. Faded photos of lady golfers in long skirts line the walls: "Miss Saville at the 1st tee - 1901" and "Miss Rhona Adair playing her second shot from the fifth fairway".

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But discontent can stir in women's rooms. Mary Clifford of Waterville Golf Club, Co Kerry, who caddied for her husband in the pro-am, rails against Portmarnock's gender bias. "It's outrageous. I've been in clubs in Australia and North Africa and never seen anything like it. I didn't even know if they'd let me caddy. I decided to go out regardless and let them try and stop me." A few frosty looks emanate from some other women in the room but Clifford is unperturbed. "I'm entitled to voice my opinion," she says to sustained stares.

Two other caddies, Pauline Byrne and Chris O'Sullivan, worry that, in casual clothes, "we mightn't be allowed into the dining room". But the dress code appears to have been relaxed.

Some women are keen on strict control. An elderly female in Rupert Bear trousers keeps uttering "ssshh!" whenever a spectator laughs or jokes.

Portmarnock's alcohol licence could be withdrawn if it loses the legal case but one woman employee thinks the threat is pointless. "It won't change these boys. Many are in their sixties and seventies and drink isn't that important to them. Anyway, the drink-driving laws have curbed a lot of drinking here."

There are hand-painted statues, paperweights and letter-openers on sale at one stall. They're part of The Bob Collection and show the same elderly, white-haired golfer, leaning on his club. To the tips of his bushy moustache, Bob (who is meant to be British) encapsulates Portmarnock man. His dress is impeccable. He knows the exact length of socks to wear with each variety of shorts. He attended the right school. He belongs to the old money Dublin set, not the nouveau riche Celtic Tiger entrepreneurs.

His sons, but not his daughters, were out in force this week, being introduced to the club in preparation for membership. They're perfectly pleasant boys, who hold the door open for ladies, but have the unmistakeable air of those who never expect to fail or be refused. You don't ask to join Portmarnock, you are invited.

Yet there are some refreshing visiting male voices. Paul O'Driscoll from Beaverstown Golf Club and Victor Kane and Ger Farragher from Ashbourne Golf Club both oppose the no-women policy. "Portmarnock needs to move into the 21st century," says Kane. "Its members are the pillars of the establishment - judges, lawyers, and the like - they should know better," says O'Driscoll.

Substitute the term "black" - or in the North, "Catholic" - for "women" and there would be uproar about Portmarnock. But despite the National Council for Women's criticism, and the Equality Authority case, the absence of formal protest both in and outside the club this week is disconcerting.

At the Augusta Masters in the US in April, there were pickets outside the men-only club. By their silence, aren't our golfing stars effectively condoning discrimination? None has so far expressed even minor criticism of the club's gender bias. So much for radical change in the age of Tiger Woods and Annika Sorenstam.

A spokeswoman for the European Tour, which organises the Irish Open, says the choice to locate at Portmarnock, "a magnificient course", doesn't mean approval of its rules which are the club's own business. Women could play in the pro-am without any restrictions, she stresses. That's a bit like holding a music competition in an Orange Order hall with Seán and Seamus let in for the day.

And what are female tax-payers and drivers to make of Tourism Ireland and Nissan's sponsorship of the Irish Open? The golfing world certainly is keen on women's money. Outlets at Portmarnock sold a wide range of women's waterproof suits, polo shirts, wind-cheaters and visors. They provided a burst of primrose, turquoise, and lilac amidst the dark greens and greys of the male-wear. A big question is how many women actually want, and can afford, to be part of the elite set. Is time-consuming golf-course networking the way women want to do business? Ending Portmarnock's all-male membership will only make rich women more equal with rich men.

"I'm a women's libber but I've no interest in this battle," says Betty Ennis who is from the village and plays pitch-and-putt. "I'm a cleaner. This place is for surgeon's wives, not people like me.

"You have to entertain the big-wigs to get membership here. How could I afford that and where would I do it? Round at my house?"

Membership should of course be open to both sexes but there is something about the club which calls for defiance and irreverence. The Irish Times was finding it impossible to secure a free buggy to tour the course.

"Come on!" suggested our female photographer. "Let's hijack one and do a Thelma and Louise around Portmarnock."