Squire of the Square was never boring

THIS column is a budget-free zone today.

Instead, here’s a tale from the belly of the Celtic Tiger, involving a character of the times.

Last Tuesday the good burghers of Dartmouth Square finally secured the return of their little corner of Paradise. The Square is in the heart of leafy Ranelagh in Dublin — one of the most salubrious addresses in the country. At the latest firesale auction in the Shelbourne Hotel, the residents combined with Dublin City Council to buy the two-acre patch of ground that forms the centrepiece of their neighbourhood. It is a pleasant oasis, where one can go to sport and play of a lazy afternoon, amidst the shrubbery and green lawns.

The square was bought for €142,000 from a receiver who is liquidating assets of a company owned by one Noel O’Gara. Mr O’Gara is a fair man for one man. He lives in a country retreat called Ballinahowen Court near Athlone, from where he has, over the years, made forays into the property market, causing all manner of consternation.

O’Gara was in attendance at the auction, a sour air hovering about his person. He was witnessing the realisation of a dream held for the square, but, unfortunately for him, the residents, and not he, were the ultimate beneficiaries. When approached by a reporter, he replied. “Why wouldn’t I come down [here]? I’m being robbed.”

Back in January 2006, when the Tiger was at a gallop, this self-styled developer and entrepreneur bought the square from under the noses of the residents and the council. He approached the owner, an English gent by the name of PJ Darley, and struck a deal to take the property off his hands for ten grand. Darley had come into possession of the square through his family, which owned half of Ranalagh back when the crown’s writ ran right across this island. An oversight by the council meant that the title was in the gift of Darley to sell. It was an oversight that was to cost a small fortune in public money.

As far back as 1986, Darley had offered the land to the then corporation for £8,000 but the corpo kept procrastinating.

By 1997, Darley was writing in despair to his solicitors. “Are we likely to reach a solution which will give me enough for a good glass of Guinness in Ryan’s pub.”

The bould Noel had a reputation for buying up property around Dublin on which ground rent was liable, and then approaching tenants with serious, and legitimate, demands. This time, though, it looked like he might have hit the jackpot.

He padlocked the square to the horror of the residents — ensuring that all hell broke loose. He proclaimed that he intended to turn it into a carpark. Another proposal he aired was that he would build a showroom for his tile business there. A febrile atmosphere took hold in the tall, Georgian mansions that ring the square. Who was this creature, thrust into their midst, like a human muck spreader, fouling their little corner?

O’Gara said he was willing to sell, but he reckoned that the market value was around €100m, which would have been accurate if it had been available for housing development.

As might be expected, there was a clash of cultures at the heart of the whole affair. O’Gara is a west of Ireland man who has scant time for standing on ceremony. The good burghers were drawn from the class who do things by the book, secure in the knowledge that they know the book inside out.

I ventured down there one afternoon when the controversy was raging and encountered in the environs of the square a knot of schoolboys, from the exclusive Gonzaga College. They spoke in hushed tones of their encounter with O’Gara on the day he moved in on the square.

“He took away our square,” one 16-year-old complained.

“We used to play football and cricket and badminton, but he told us to get out and confiscated our ball. He used coarse language. He had a lot of country traits,” the fifth year student said.

What country traits? “He was belligerent and he didn’t show us any respect.”

When informed of this opinion some weeks later, O’Gara snorted.

“Did you ever hear the likes of that? Country traits? They didn’t show me any respect either. This is not about a square for the public, it’s just for those multi-millionaires. They want it for themselves. Do you think they’ll be inviting anybody in from Clondalkin to share the space?”

As might be expected the force of the State was mobilised against his cheeky foray. Dublin City Council, reeling from its mismanagement of the affair, blocked his attempts at redevelopment in the court, and ultimately acquired a compulsory purchase order. The court case ran to the point where O’Gara was caught for costs, and his corporate vehicle put into receivership, from which the proceeds were ultimately liquidated last week.

Back when his notoriety was the stuff of headlines, I visited him in his country retreat. It’s a fine pile, befitting a modern-day squire, a few miles off the M6. He lived there with his wife, Naramon, who is from Thailand. They married after a whirlwind romance in Bangkok in 1992.

His other great interest was pursuing what he claimed was the ‘real Yorkshire Ripper’. He had undertaken much research on the subject, in the belief that the British police had got the wrong man in Peter Sutcliffe, who was convicted for murdering a number of women in the 1980s. O’Gara was convinced that the real ripper was a man he knew from Offaly, who, Noel claims, actually confessed to him. He compiled a book on the issue, detailing his investigations and theories.

He has been in and out of the news since those heady days, but he’s still standing. Some who encountered him may not remember him in a benign manner, but he has never let that bother him.

Back when the Tiger was roaring, there were those in the media, politics and business who liked to portray O’Gara as a chancer of sorts. He didn’t conform to their notion of how an entrepreneur in modern, thrusting Ireland should conduct himself. He didn’t show respect for those at the upper echelons of Irish life who had been responsible for making this country great. He didn’t get with the programme being dictated by the nation builders, who saw themselves as beyond reproach.

Now, a different vista presents itself in the rear view mirror. Many among the politicians and nation builders were the ones who were first-rate chancers, unlike O’Gara, who was straight up about his flair to see an opportunity to turn a fast buck. Those who looked down on him turned out to be irresponsible and reckless. At least O’Gara never attempted to hide his pursuit of the fast buck, unlike those who were ultimately responsible for bringing the country to its knees.

At least he brightened up those days with his unorthodox approach. At least he wasn’t boring.