The Guinness Pub Giveaway Contest
Imports were having a field day, piggybacking on the growing discovery of full-flavored beer in the US. They were eager for press and beer journals were the outlet. These larger European beer (and cider) concerns had decent size budgets and, teaming up with importers and distributors, the junket seemed to be the way to go.
Sometimes they would throw a couple of journalists in with a distributor sales crew; other times it was just a group of journalists. At the invitation of Bulmers cider a group of us craft beer writers were put up at their guest house in Hereford, England, complete with butler. A certain amount of damage was inflicted on their wine cellar.
One of most successful contests which ran for a few years was the Guinness Irish Pub Giveaway Contest – win a pub in Ireland. I was invited to cover the contest’s finale in its fifth year (1998). The prize pub was located in Listowel, County Kerry, in the southwest of Ireland.
It was more than a 3-ring circus that swept into town – the 10 finalists and their guests all from different regions of the US, past winners, media, PR people, real estate agents, Guinness reps and staff. Orchestrating everything was Howard Pulcin, Guinness’ marketing mastermind and Connie Doolan, “the heart and soul of Guinness in the US.” Tom Dalldorf (Celebrator Beer News), the dean of US brewspaper publishers, was also a staple of the competition. In fact, we were the only two brewspaper representatives; the other journalists were slightly more mainstream – freelancers writing for a variety of lifestyle magazines such as Maxim, Mens Journal, Details and Playboy On-Line. One writer regaled us with tales of his experiences working as an assistant to Hunter Thompson.
So thrilled was I to be in this part of Ireland, that I jumped the gun at the introductions and ordered a pint of Guinness at the bar before the free pints started flowing. It was the only pint I bought. They split us into three groups for a pub crawl around town – there were 45 pubs in Listowel for a population of 3,000. When closing time came I had a suspicion the night was still young – I headed over to the John B. Keane. Although there was no sound emanating from the establishment, I banged on the door. It opened and sure enough there was a full-scale (very well insulated) party going on well into the night.
John Keane was a celebrated writer and host of Listowel’s annual writers festival. The other big events in Listowel are the horse races, twice a year, which no doubt helps keep the town solvent, at least the pubs. The races are a big topic of conversations in the pubs as evidenced by this local:
“Will ye be comin’ to the Races?”
“No, unfortunately I’m only here for a short time.”
Takes a few sips of Guinness, then...”So, you’ll not be comin’ to the races, then?’
“No”
A few more sips of Guinness...”We’ll be doin’ the Races without ye, then?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
A few more sips
“Ah well, we’ll be missin’ ye at the Races.”
John Keane’s son Billy was a bit of a joker. At the welcome dinner we all took turns to shake hands with the head honcho, president of Guinness. Billy introduced me, “This is Tony – he publishes a gay newspaper in New York.” The honcho slowly released his hand from my grip.
Next day was competition day. The pub, Finucane’s, was not some kind of run-down fixer-upper as I expected but well appointed with an off-license and a second-floor 4-bedroom apartment. After dart throwing and pint pouring in the morning, the contestants, standing behind the bar, delivered their heartfelt pleas to own the pub. Going last and perhaps benefiting from a lucky rub on the shoulder from Mrs. Finucane, 22-year-old Trevor O’Driscoll disguised as his own ghost in the year 2098 delivered the winning address. Word must have gotten out as it seemed locals from a wide radius descended on the pub to share in the celebrations...and free pours of Guinness.
Bussing back to Dublin in the morning we had the rest of the day to ourselves before flying out. Tom Dalldorf and I paid a visit to Dublin Brewing Co., situated across the River Liffey from the Guinness factory. I had met the owner in New York a few months previously. They had a creditable red ale and a decent stout and they seemed to take pride in their underdog status with lots of jokes about their giant neighbor across the river, Guinness, a rather precarious strategy in Tom’s opinion. They were not long lived. On the way back to our hotel we stumbled on a Jameson’s whiskey bar...and after a few samples including Redbreast and the rare Midleton, we stumbled out again. Back at the hotel, Tom sat down at the lobby piano and tickled the ivories with a memorable rendition of the Beatles Let It Be.