Union Hall: It took local people power to turn the lights back on 

The Obama production was just the icing on the cake. From new coffee shops to florists, Union Hall was returning to the life long before Netflix came to town, says West Cork local RP O'Donnell

IE WEEKEND VICKIE 20/06/2022.

Long ago, Union Hall was briefly famous — a villager died so spectacularly that people travelled from all over the country to watch it happen: from Antrim, Galway, Dublin, Clare, anywhere they got a paper.

In the early 19th century, a man named Thomas lived on the corner of what is now the causeway pond, but was then just the open coastline. The wind, cold and wet, whipped off the ocean and straight through the walls of his small cottage. Consumption dripped down from the ceiling — Thomas fell sick and began to die.

He took a long time to die though; for six years, he was on death’s door, but the door remained shut. And then, something strange started happening.

The first people to see the lights probably thought they’d gone mad; it looked like blue stars were floating through the window and all around the inside of the cottage. They rushed in and found Thomas lying in his usual condition, dying unimaginatively in the corner. But there were bright lights, brilliant stars of red and yellow and purple hovering above his body.

Ciarán and Catherine Woods at The Dock Wall Bar & Restaurant, Union Hall, Co. Cork.

The witnesses were stunned; Thomas barely looked up. (He was dying, after all.) For years, until the time of his death, the lights kept appearing. Sometimes they were stars, sometimes they were meteors, falling from the ceiling and disappearing into the floorboards. News spread, and the village was overrun with visitors, all coming to see the miracle. And then Thomas died, the lights stopped, and the world forgot about Union Hall again.

These days, Union Hall has a chance at being famous again. Netflix has arrived in the village, filming a new TV series, Bodkin, set to come out next year. And the series has some big names behind it — Barack and Michelle Obama are executive producers.

In a meeting with the locals in the back room of Dinty’s pub, it was all excitement as some of the production crew talked through the logistics. A few days of shooting, 140 crew, and the transformation of Union Hall’s main road into the fictional village of Bodkin.

Union Hall, Co. Cork.

And I mean transform. The houses lining the street are being reimagined (and repainted) as a florist, a butcher’s shop, a chipper, a hair salon, and a cafe. There’s even going to be a festival box office. And, back in the real world, the whole village stands to gain from the production.

I don’t think this could have happened even just a few years ago. Back then, the summers felt like winter. I walked through the empty village streets — past the old Post Office building, now vacant. Past Casey’s and Moloney’s and Nolan’s, and further down, the old coffee shop — all closed. Both the N71 and the Wild Atlantic Way passed us by without stopping. If Thomas’s lights had come back, there would be nobody there to notice them.

I believed Union Hall was dying.

For the past 100 years, every expert, politician, economist and publican has warned anyone who would listen that rural Ireland is dying.

A new obituary is written every five years — pointing to the post office closures, lack of public transport and jobs, and the decline of the Church. And every time, they’ve been wrong.

Union Hall, Co. Cork.

They were wrong. I was wrong. I was so utterly, happily wrong.

In 2021, a few locals, Ciaran and Catherine Woods, along with Tadhg and Sharon Bergin, transformed the old Maloney’s pub into a brand new bar and restaurant, the Dock Wall.

“We’d always intended to open a restaurant, but with the recession in ‘08, it wasn’t possible,” Ciaran says.

Ciarán and Catherine Woods at The Dock Wall Bar & Restaurant, Union Hall, Co. Cork.

But during a barbecue for the local rowing club, they got the idea to open one, right here in the village. And that original spark quickly grew — they’d originally planned on a small 40 seater, but after Tim McCarthy, the builder, saw the potential in the building, they decided on nearly 80 seats.

And it’s a credit to Union Hall — from the mouthwatering food to the modern, comfortable design, to the sunset views from the garden overlooking the causeway. It’s not just the villagers who have noticed; for the first time in a long time, people are travelling to Union Hall again. The 80 seats are filled with people returning for the fresh food and cocktails.

Slowly, the tide of Union Hall began to change. Just last month, a new coffee shop opened in the old Nolan’s pub; it kept the coziness of the pub, while expanding into the old family sitting room. The owners are warm and friendly, and coming from a former American, when I say the coffee is incredible, I mean it.
The village has come to life again. The old hum and colour are back; the streets ring out with laughter and the footsteps of the next generation. We’ve been added to the Wild Atlantic Way. And now, of course, there is Netflix.

Who knows? It could be the start of a whole new movie industry in West Cork; the production crew said that if it all goes well, they’ll be back again. Or it might be a flash in the pan — War of the Buttons, the last production to come to Union Hall, was 28 years ago. It might be another 28 years to the next.

But either way, whatever happens in those 28 years, Union Hall will still be right here.

Union Hall, Co. Cork.

Just like they always have been.

Especially if Ciaran and Catherine have their way.

“What the village needs now is a pontoon for pleasure craft to tie up,” Ciaran says. “There is still loads of potential here in Union Hall.”

For the last 100 years, while the outside world debated why rural Ireland was dying and what could be done to fix it, the villagers have just got on with it. When the recessions came, they held on. And when the sea flooded the shore and threatened to wash the village away, they built the causeway — brick by brick, they held back the tide. Generations of families have lived and died here — with generations to follow.

The Dock Wall took something old and made it new, in a way that nobody from the outside world could — a blend of romance, pragmatism, and modernity. That’s what keeps Union Hall alive; a way of holding on to its roots, without getting stuck in one place. A way to be authentic while still moving forward through the world. A way to live in the village between the sea and the fields.

Union Hall, Co. Cork.

You can come up with all sorts of logical explanations for Thomas’s lights, just like you can for why rural Ireland hasn’t died — why Union Hall hasn’t fallen into the sea.

But the truth is, there was clearly just something special about Thomas. Just like there is clearly something special about the people of rural Ireland — of Union Hall.

It wasn’t the place, the flora or the fauna or any macro-economic policy that saved Union Hall.

It was the people. People like Ciaran and Catherine, Tadhg and Sharon. The people who stayed, who joined, who built a wall to hold back the sea.

And those people are still here — on the farms and on the ships, in the Dock Wall, in the Coffee House, and now, on the fictional streets of Bodkin. Watch the series next year and you might catch a glimpse of a few of them in the background.

But unless you live here, you won’t see the lights.