Fodor's 1971 guide to Ireland, promising a land of "handsome Irish cops, green-eyed convent girls and sozzled poets", paints an idyllic picture of another world, writes Michael Parsons.
In 1971, in a major breakthrough for our nascent tourist industry, travel publisher Fodor launched its very first annual guide aimed primarily at potential American visitors.
Tourists "anxious to savour the pleasures of an uncrowded land administered by a most hospitable people" would no longer have to rely on the necessarily brief details supplied by the Fodor Guide to Great Britain and Ireland.
The editors noted that the island was "still only in the opening stages of being 'discovered' by foreign travellers" and, poignantly, "now that its 'Troubles' are over, Ireland is a notably non-violent country".
"In Northern Ireland, the one million Protestants and half-million Catholics are discovering that they are both more interested in national prosperity than in constant wrangling about their religious differences." Has ever a book gone out of date so quickly? Pity the editors unaware of the terrible sectarian storm about to be unleashed.
But this lovingly created snapshot of Ireland, unknowingly "on the brink", recalls a lost and innocent world. Fodor's 1971 Ireland recalls a vanished world where on "the streets of Kinsale" visitors could observe older women wearing the "famous heavy, hooded cloaks" and "the covered wagons of the tinkers, the Irish gypsies" could "still be seen creaking along roads all over the island".
The guide described "the real people of Ireland" as "unpretentious and genuinely interested in visitors as men and women and not merely as tourists".
The guide quoted prices in the new decimal currency - down to the last halfpenny - although the new money was not scheduled for launch until February 15th of that year. Dollars could be exchanged at institutions such as the Munster and Leinster Bank or Hibernian Bank.
An exciting new alternative was becoming available: "Americans and Britons can arrange with one of the credit organisations for a European charge account that enables them to sign for hotel and restaurant bills, car rentals, purchases and so forth, and pay the resulting total at one time on a monthly bill.".Yes, the "credit card" concept was coming to Ireland and among those offering this novelty were American Express and Eurocard.
Guests arriving in Dublin were directed to upmarket hotels. Top of the list, the Dublin Intercontinental in Ballsbridge was "American in character with an Irish staff", featuring "excellent food and breathtaking views" at its "rooftop Martello Grill". The Shelbourne was recommended for "its quiet dignity"; the Gresham's "penthouse prestige suites are among the best in Europe"; and the Royal Hibernian "puts the stress on elegance".
The term "en suite" had yet to enter the national lexicon and even some quite posh establishments had no qualms about offering rooms "without bath".
The Russell Hotel on St Stephen's Green offered "57 rooms (46 with bath)" while Ashford Castle in Cong, "a hotel for the discerning traveller", had "40 rooms (22 with bath)".
Adventurous types could opt for the "farmhouse holiday" experience. But there was a word of warning for shivering Americans: "these houses don't usually run to central heating" but at least "the beds will be toast-warm with what the Irish call hot jars". Of the 438 farmhouses on the officially approved list, "about 60 have hot and cold water", though all offered "adequate modern lavatory facilities, a dining room and a comfortable lounge". The decor would have included "president Kennedy, whose picture may still be seen next to that of the Pope in homes all over the country".
Renting a car was easy. A Ford Anglia cost £25 a week and could be filled with "top grade gas" for 33p a gallon. The "roads are the least crowded in Europe" and motorists were advised that the journey from O'Connell Street to Lamb Doyle's in Sandyford could be "easily" completed in 15 minutes. Generally, the national "standards of road building are good and signposting is excellent".
RESTAURANTS DID NOT play such a significant role in national leisure. "Dining out is not a habit of the ordinary Irishman" is the guide's diplomatic assessment despite it being possible "to eat well in good city restaurants for as little as 87 and a half pence". Grilled food was all the rage.
Recommendations included the Robert Emmet Grill Bar on St Stephen's Green and the Bianconi Grill Bar in the basement of the Royal Hibernian Hotel. North of the river, the Metropole Grill is described as "very popular at lunchtime" and the Charcoal Grill on Upper O'Connell Street as the kind of establishment where "the waitress asks if the patron has enjoyed the meal and means what she says".
Wine had not, yet, become snooty. "Irish sommeliers or wine waiters are not snobs; they are always willing to offer friendly expert advice on the list without pushing the pricier wines." And though it seems odd today, airports were considered chic destinations for eating out. "Dublin Airport Restaurant is quite something; its cuisine and wine are first class, and the service is smooth without being obsequious."
Dublin pubs, "those musty Victorian retreats", were under assault and "being sabotaged by 'sleek' lounge bars". Binge drinking was unheard of. A local is quoted: "we drink to talk", and it was observed that "some Irishmen can spend hours just sipping a pint or two of stout. There is no Russian urge to get intoxicated quickly in frantic gulps."
"Some emancipated city dwellers are taking to drinking wine and cocktails instead of the usual black stout." Suspect venues included the RTÉ Club at 4 Ely Place, "the off-duty meeting place of personnel from the radio and television service", or "Bartley Dunne's in Stephen Street, specialising in liqueurs and with an atmosphere more like that of a Park Avenue bar than that of a Dublin pub". The Bailey was referred to as the "one-time haunt of Arthur Griffith and his friends". Brian's in Molesworth Street was a bolt-hole "to which deputies slip out" of the Dáil and O'Neill's in Merrion Row was "where the intellectuals meet". Madigan's in North Earl Street was "traditional on the ground floor and contemporary - but without draught stout - below" while "its daughter house in Moore Street is where the radio men go".
Visiting "celebrities" were directed to the Gresham Hotel bar, a "meeting place for the top status people", while the Shelbourne's Horseshoe Bar attracted "VIPs of commercial, industrial and government circles, with a strong sporting element at the weekend". But pub culture was not all-consuming: "most of the Irish are not heavy drinkers - in fact, they appear to have a poor head for alcohol." It was pointed out that "nearly half a million citizens have pledged never to touch a drop - and they wear little temperance badges to prove it".
Porter was also still occasionally available, and sharp-eyed tourists could still in some pubs "spot a pint bottle with a green Guinness label, instead of the usual brown". A few older drinkers were still able to enjoy a "fifty" (half draught porter and half draught stout) or a "fill-up" (half draught porter, half bottled stout).
Nightlife was sparse. Jury's Hotel on Dame Street "offers a variety of entertainments from Irish cabaret to old-time vaudeville in its ballroom and Intrepid Fox restaurant". The "Clarence Hotel, Wellington Quay, also presents regular Irish cabaret". But the guide notes that "there are no nightclubs in the international, sophisticated sense of the word". The listings for other cities and towns made it brutally clear that Ireland was not a destination for nightlife, while the chapter on Northern Ireland does not list any nightlife at all.
SHOPPING WAS a genteel affair. Souvenir hunters seeking to avoid "vulgar looking leprechauns" were directed to the permanent exhibition showrooms of Bord Fáilte at No 1, St Stephen's Green. Irish lace and crochet, "now high fashion all over the world", Aran wool handbags, Irish tweed table mats and "a luxury [ Irish linen] cloth big enough to grace a formal dinner table for 40" were among the quality items displayed and sold. Other pleasures included cufflinks inset with Connemara marble, "famous" Donegal carpets, "briar pipes and smoking accessories of Irish woods", and "the sturdy blackthorn stick or shillelagh".
More conventional shopping tips included haute couture at Sybil Connolly or Raymond Kenna on Merrion Square and Clodagh in Lower Baggot Street; Switzer's and Brown Thomas department stores and antiques from the Gaie Boutique on South King Street or the Butler Sisters "on the north quays".
The guide brims with real affection and enthusiasm for Ireland and strongly recommends the country's attractions. Fodor's realised it was tapping into the potentially huge Irish-American audience by reminding readers: "We go to Ireland and we feel we belong. It isn't foreign". It promised that travellers searching for their roots would not be disappointed when they arrived. "It is with a tingling sense of re-discovery that we come upon handsome Irish cops, green-eyed convent girls, sozzled poets, and priests who like a horse race as much as the next fellow."
But the country was changing and, although the authors could not have predicted developments in Northern Ireland, they sensed that the Republic was experiencing social and economic upheaval. The pace, they believed, would be measured: "There is no headlong rush into the future, however. Unlike the Americans, Japanese or Swedes, the Irish, who have been robbed and swindled through most of their history, regard change and innovation with the utmost suspicion. They advance into modern times with all the wariness of a country boy going up on his first airplane ride.
"The nation is unquestionably on the move, but for a long time to come Ireland will continue to have that fanciful and lackadaisical atmosphere which makes it so endearing to visitors."