J.C. Wooloughans celebrates the life of an Irishman

Kimberley McGee

Friday, Aug. 25, 2000 | 8:24 a.m.

A bit of Irish has weaved its way into the cultural fabric of Las Vegas.

The J.C. Wooloughan Irish pub, which celebrates its first anniversary Thursday at the Regent Las Vegas hotel-casino, combines the life of an Irishman with the lifestyle of his homeland.

"It's about my life, sure," said Wooloughan, who lives in London and stops by the pub whenever he comes to America on business. "But it's also about what you'll find when you go 'round to any pub in Ireland."

It's all here, from his great-grandfather's sea adventures to his family's penchant for the horses -- playing them, owning racetracks and such.

Wooloughan (whose age is between him and the gatepost, and he's not telling) is a global businessman with a lust for life. He is known to play piano and drink whiskey till the wee hours of the morning, and to have run in a few marathons.

"The pub (theme) is based on my life from Dublin, and then getting into the Playboy Club (where he worked as a casino host) in London and meeting a lot of your American stars like Frank Sinatra and Muhammed Ali," Wooloughan said.

Pubs are the social center of Irish life, he said. They mix the spirit of the Irish -- music, dancing, good conversation and the occasional brawl -- with spirits of a different nature, mostly whiskey and pints of thick, dark beer such as Guinness.

Wooloughan went so far as to have his pub built in Ireland by the Irish Pub Company and sent over in pieces so that the soul of the country would be embedded in his namesake bar.

"Las Vegas has the same kind of spontaneity and friendliness" as the people of Ireland, Wooloughan said. "I thought of the place as a little bit of Ireland in the desert."

Wooloughan tapped fellow Irishman Declan McGettigan, who has opened Irish pubs around the country since 1985, to add authentic flair to the pub, which he manages.

"We tried to create a place of social interaction where you can come in and have a chat and basically talk about the weather, politics, get into a fight, or whatever the case may be and that's typically Irish," McGettigan said.

Pubs in Ireland are the social element of the country's culture.

"You've got rainy days 80 to 90 percent of the year, quite frankly, and very short days as well, in terms of darkness, and with the economy developing just over the last few years, there's very little to do," McGettigan said.

The wood-and-tile pub was handmade in Dublin and shipped overseas to rest at the Regent Las Vegas. Every decorative item and most of the food and beverage comes from Irish products, McGettigan said.

"Every little piece you see in there, outside of the dry wall, came from Ireland -- the wood, the tiles, the bric-a-brac," McGettigan said. "It gives a greater sense of authenticity."

Although there are a handful of Anglo pubs sprinkled around the valley, McGettigan said the difference is that this is an Irish pub. It features traditional Irish music and a Sunday night jig (dancing) session; food prepared from the recipes of Wooloughan's family and friends; Gaelic football and other Irish-only televised sports; and, of course, blarney-spouting bartenders imported from Ireland.

First impressions

There's a sort of intimacy and eccentricity that true Irish pubs have,he said, that only an Irishman could understand.

"I saw an American architect's rendition of what an American thought and Irish pub should look like ..." Wooloughan said, apologetic distaste in his voice.

As with a traditional Irish pub, he said his is compartmentalized with intimate nooks and crannies so that groups of people can huddle together in serious conversation. Tucked along the walls and stacked in corners are items that reflect his family's past.

A large sail over the stage represents Wooloughan's great-grandfather's stint as a commodore in the British Navy. (It must be his Irish blood that makes him interject, "I hate to say it, but it's true.")

In recognition of his grandfather, a paddock from Fairy House, a racetrack in Ireland, sits upside-down over a steel frame and serves as a covering for a small counter bar.

"(My grandfather) had a betting business but unfortunately he was a terrible gambler and lost a lot of money, I'm afraid to say," Wooloughan said.

Horse racing was a large part of Wooloughan's family fortune and that he honors with a bar-and-table area lined with betting windows and memorabilia from famous racetracks. Also, a 1/4-sized statue of the famous racehorse Shergar who was kidnapped in 1983 and held for a $2 million pounds sterling ransom, overlooks the entire pub. (Shergar was never found and there is much debate, especially in Irish pubs, about what may have happened to the horse.)

"My family, we were associated with bookmakers, so that's what that is," Wooloughan said. "But by the time I came along, I'm afraid, the family had lost it all. We had to rise from the ashes like the phoenix."

(Which Wooloughan did, emigrating to London and eventually rising to a his position at the Playboy Club, which led to contacts in the casino industry and the completion of the Las Vegas pub.)

A raised area with velvet curtains, carpeting and a lone piano toward the back of the pub, tops off the tour of Wooloughan's eclectic life -- so far. The back-bar area reflects his days of drinking pints with famous Irish playwrights and hobnobbing with members of the Rat Pack when they visited the Playboy Club.

Full of blarney?

Given the time, Wooloughan will tell many tales from his past -- he didn't just kiss the Blarney Stone (a rock said to give those who kiss it the skill to charm), he took a bite.

He claims to be partly responsible for the title of the 1975 John Wayne movie, "Brannigan."

As Wooloughan tells it, he sat down and had drinks with the Duke and the producer of the movie, Doug McClure, and was rolling around names for an upcoming Wayne movie. Wooloughan said Brannigan sounded like a tough Irish name to him, and he rather liked it.

"Next thing I know the movie comes out and that's the title," Wooloughan said.

In 1965 Wooloughan had a bit part in "Von Ryan's Express" with friend Sinatra -- although with friends like this, who needs enemies?

In a scene, "I actually shot (Sinatra) in the back," he said.

The pub has become a bit of a reunion hall for Wooloughan. Early last year a childhood chum of his wandered into the pub out of curiosity and asked about the proprietor.

Wooloughan, who happened to be there that day, recognized him immediately and pointed to pictures from the boys' past that decorate the pub's walls.

"I met some other people, who I hadn't seen for years and years, in Vegas at the bar," Wooloughan said. "Talk about a small world. It was amazing."

When Wooloughan does visit the Las Vegas pub he brings with him a bit of Irish mischief.

"Sometimes we get a crowd in there and we get carried away, have a little sing-song until the early morning hours," he said.

It's Irish to me

Over the last 10 years McGettigan said, Irish pubs have become more popular. As the economy continues to do well, Americans are taking more trips.

"They come back with a sheer enjoyment of the pub environment," McGettigan said.

About 20 percent of the J.C. Wooloughan staff is from Ireland, and they add a sense of the traditional pub to the Las Vegas location, McGettigan said.

Irish-born bartender Brendan McCarthy is one of Wooloughan's resident seanachie (pronounced shawn-a-key), or storytellers, which is a mainstay of any good pub. He knows the story behind every photo, piece of furniture and fixture in the place. (And if not, he'll make one up.)

"It's turned into a great little scene here," McCarthy said. "Vegas doesn't have a lot for history and culture but this place, well, it's an honest place and it's overlooked how much culturally it can offer."

McCarthy's young Irish counterpart, Ronan Purcell, said pubs are the place where information, as well as friends, can naturally be found.

"Back home you meet your friends at the pub, go home for dinner at 6 p.m. and you're back at the pub by 8 p.m.," Purcell said. "You meet before church, go and meet there after. Not to drink, it's just that kind of meeting place."

Walter McCarthy (no relation to Brendan McCarthy) gives a name to the essence of a good pub.

"It's got to have good craic," he said. "There's no American term for it, it's just something you have to feel."

Possibly the best way to explain craic is through McCarthy's own actions.

When not pulling pints behind the bar, he jumps onstage with the house band, Wild Celtic Boys, and plays the spoons, a traditional Irish instrument he learned to play in pubs growing up, and the more traditional Bodhran (pronounced Bowraw), a hand-held drum.

"It's a party piece," McCarthy said. "Everybody wants to see you play the spoons."

McCarthy even jumped on stage and played with the Irish band the Chieftains a few years back in San Francisco. It's an Irish thing to do.

"In Ireland, a guy will come in and pull out his fiddle and play," McCarthy said. "He won't do it for money or anything but just to hear the music and share it with everybody."

And that's craic -- spontaneous pleasure for pleasure's sake.

Everybody's Irish

Donna Brown, past president of the Irish-American Club of Las Vegas, gets together with other Irish natives -- or just those who want to pretend -- at the pub once a month to dance a jig on Sundays and have a pint or two.

Born in Illinois, Brown lived in Ireland from the time she was 8, and watched her father amble down to the local pub, and into her mid-20's when she herself met mates for a few pints.

"The part that's so great about this pub is that it brings me back home," Brown said. "You don't have to go across the ocean, just across the freeway, to go back to Ireland."

The fast-paced footwork of step-dancing enticed Phyllis Chunn to take classes after she "was just messing around on the dance floor" a few weeks ago at a Sunday jig session.

"It's so much fun, it's exhilarating," she said.

She said she didn't know much about the Irish before.

"Coming here, I feel I've been introduced to the Irish culture," Chunn said. "Now, I'm Irish on Sundays from 4 to 8 (p.m.)."

Irishman John Doyle drank a pint and shared stories with strangers at the pub recently, before heading home to Ireland.

After a bit of coaxing Doyle did a jig in front of the stage where the band played, hoping to win a double shot of whiskey. He left the dance floor empty handed, but smiling.

"It's a little oasis 6,000 miles away from home," Doyle said.

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