Painting the Town Green: 
How a pipe dream over a few pints of Guinness became the world's greatest Celtic festival
By Martin Hintz

Twenty-two years ago, hardy bands of Irish gathered in Beer Town's pubs. The craic (native Irish for let the"good times roll") was superb in those almost-Druidic days. Frothy pints of stout were sipped while the conversation flowed around music, music, theater, music, music, poetry, music and — heck — more music. Eventually, the topic of these Andy Rooneyish conversations — especially in the rear of the long-gone, much beloved Mr. Guinness, an Irish public house of no small measure run by Margaret O'Donoghue — was, "Hey kids, let's start a festival." 

Everyone involved was young and eager then, ready to show the world that there was plenty about the Celts that was fun and fantastic. Remember, those were pre-Riverdance times when impresario Michael Flatley hardly had a chest to bare and was just one more damn good kid stepdancer hailing from Windy City's boglands. 

A history digression: the ancient Irish regularly painted their naked bodies blue, imbibed hogsheads of smooth honey mead, gleefully raided their neighbors' cattle herds, lopped off the heads of rival clan chiefs, tried to figure out who would be the next High King and (between all this frivolity) came up with some of the most remarkably lyrical verses ever paened.

Now, back to two decades ago. This being Milwaukee, after all, and the fact that many of those Mr. Guinness early birdians were Marquette University graduates educated by proper Jesuits, there was none of that good old-fashioned cobalt nakedness. Occasionally, however, there might have been some jumping through fires to celebrate the autumn Lughnasadh harvest festival. But that practice was not widespread in the early 1970s (allegedly not even in Wauwatosa), except for rumors of a few Irish literature doctoral candidates on the Upper East side who were avid readers of William Allingham — he of "Gray, gray is Abbey Asaroe, by Ballyshanny town..." fame.

But we digress.

At the time, Milwaukee's festival scene was a new rainbow over the lakefront. Summerfest, just out of its infancy, was blossoming. It was halcyon time, according to the bards, when it was still generally considered safe to enter the men's showground bathrooms sheathed in sandals. 

And Festa Italiana had demonstrated to the city's polyglot collection of United Nations ethnics that down-home family reunions, a goodly supply of refreshing bubbly, cultural displays, teary memories of days gone by and lottsa music contributed to a damn fine mix for summertime frivolity. 

Subsequently, the thinking was clear in Mr. Guinness. If the Italians could do it, why not the Irish? 

So the Gaels did. Volunteers flocked to help, with every Mc, Mac and O' offering assistance. Many have given up their summers and contributed hundreds of hours throughout the year to plan and create what has become the Dea Nutrix of Irish festivals.This nurturing mother of Gaelic entertainment now attracts upwards of 128,000 persons the third weekend of every August — making it the largest annual gathering of culturally-attuned Irish since the late Irish political George Washington, Éamon de Valera, wanted to dance by himself at the crossroads. For good reason, the festival has earned travel industry kudos as one of the top ten motorcoach destinations in North America. 

Today, there are festival clones in Texas, Ohio, Illinois, Minnesota, Kansas, Rhode Island, Chicago, New York, Florida, Los Angeles and communities scattered throughout other states — each promulgating their own brands of Irish cheer. Within a couple of years of the first Milwaukee festival, the Irish-bastion of Boston asked the IF organizers set up an event for them. The Bean Towners just couldn't pull it together themselves.

So now, when anyone says "Irish Fest," it's Milwaukee they mean. Posters for the fest appear in pubs from Galway to Dublin and the list of performers seeking a festival venue is as long as as folk hero Cú Chulainn's spear. Reputations are made and careers solidified in Milwaukee. Stellar lineups over the years have included the the well-known and soon-to-be known: Tommy Makem, Liam Clancy, Schooner Fare, Stockton's Wing, Patrick Ball, Mick Moloney, Dermot O'Brien, Belfast Harp Orchestra, Patrick Street, Dublin City Ramblers, Storm, Carmel Quinn, Cherish the Ladies, the Tannahill Weavers, Dennis Day, DeDanann, Chieftains, Wolfetones, Battlefield Band, Touchstone, Clancy Brothers, Barleycorn, Altan, Arcady, Omagh Choir and dozens upon dozens more. 

Trad, harp, choral, New Age, celtic rock, jazz — a breathtaking alignment of musical styles attracted the attention of critics worldwide and showed that Irish Fest was not another backyard picnic with a solo fiddler sawing out "Danny Boy." 

The word quickly spread throughout the musical Gaelic grapevine that Irish Fest cared about its performers. In the beginning, women entertainers even received roses in their hotel rooms and other perks were important, such as pickup buses arriving on time, sound checks professionally handled and all the related nuances emphasizing the care and feeding of the stage types. In other words... they loved us.

The lineup is just as impressive this year, with its mix of new and old sounds. The Shepherd Express is even sponsoring the Last Acts, held on the Leinie Stage to promote some of the top touring types traveling on the Gaelic highway today. Look for Seven Nations, 10 p.m., Friday, Aug. 17; Dara, 10 p.m., Saturday, Aug. 18; and Luka Bloom, 8 p.m., Sunday, Aug. 19. Other groups on the fest's 15 stages include the Eileen Ivers Band, Danu, Sliabh Notes, Beginish, Gaelic Storm, Natalie MacMaster, Brigid's Cross, Off Kilter, Different Drums of Ireland, Tommy Makem, the John Whelan Band, the Fenians and Paddy Glackin & Robbie Hannon among others.

The musical and cultural explosion that became Irish Fest still attracts a diverse population — with almost 50% of the festgoers being non-locals. The festival's pluses continue to be the draw: fantastic programing, permanent grounds and staging and great accommodations and the fact that just about everything is in English. After-hours parties in hotel lobbies and local pubs became THE place to be for post-fest sessiuns (sessions) with the aficionados buzzing about where their favorite so-and-so would hang out that particular night after performing.

These pluses were evident from the git-go, to the delight of the attending crowds. To accommodate the crush, the festival tried to develop weekend getaway packages with the local hotels. At first, there was some reluctance to participate on the part of hoteliers...until their phones fell off the hooks with room requests. It wasn't long before the hotels took the Irish crowds for granted as charters, family groups and individuals flocked here from across the world. Where 20 years ago, Beer City was admittedly moribund in the summer, it's now increasingly hard to find a stack of hay on which to plop. Subsequently, devoted regulars book years out, just to be sure they are guaranteed space. 

The elation after the success of the first festival brought tears to the eyes of many of the festival's behind-the-scene putter-uppers and taker-downers...all volunteers. Irish Fest came together, probably due only not just to hard work, perspiration and plasma droplets but also with the prayers of nun friends and the incantations of a stray Druid or two. Over the ensuing two decades, the fest folks grew to become a tightly-knit family that partied regularly, celebrated marriages and grieved at wakes. Speaking of family, the oft-asked question is when will the festival's over-sized and lovable leprechaun mascots, Paddy and Molly McFest, ever have wee children.

Irish Festians also promoted many social causes, including being the first among the city's entertainment venues to collect food for the needy, in a gate promotion still held prior to Sunday's Liturgy for Peace and Justice. They also pushed the "green" cause of recycling. Working for a time with international, national, state and local recycling firms, the festival allowed free entry to festgoers who brought recyclables to the gates. Its Greenwish Village environmental displays and on-site can/cardboard collections with teens participating in the LepreCan Collection Clan carried the environmental cause one step beyond, efforts that won state and regional beautification awards. Numerous music scholarships have been distributed and a great music archive developed. There have also been plenty of cultural bridge crossings. Among them, witness the Trinity Dance Company sharing the stage with African American dancers and drummers.

The Irish psyche has a thirst for learning. Without a jolt of erudite conversation on a regular basis, the garrulous Gael would wither. For good reason, a weeklong IF summer school has been popular since the late 1980s, with classes covering everything from flute playing to the history of Celtic beer drinking. Sessions are held at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.

On the grounds, the festival's Hedge School brings together poets, scholars and authors to discuss matters of great import in a casual but structured setting. These chat-fests are much like the Olde Colonial Days in a rebellious Ireland where schools were outlawed and teachers had to conduct classes in the ditches, sheltered by overhanging foliage.

The Irish take their creativity seriously. For instance, in 1991, musician Sigmund Snopek III composed a fugue based on research by writer Margaret Rogers on the "Sirens" chapter in James Joyce's Ulysses. Over in the Ballyfest cultural area, well-conceived displays leapfrog from subject to subject. Displays this year include exhibits on the Irish publishing scene and on Irish railways. And there is more freshly invigorating theater packed into this one weekend than sardines in a can.

Sports remain a major component. Sanctioned tug-of-war contests bring international competitors. Hurling and gaelic football are popular. Currachs (sleek, black Irish fishing boats) scoot across the Summerfest lagoon. Over the years, there have also been walks, triathalons and dart tournaments and...okay, okay...waiter races, pipe-smoking competitions, bed races, Paddy Bingo, Irish trivia contests and the Potato Olympics. Somebody would howl if we forget to mention the dog presentations, with their terriers, wolfhounds and related mutant canines of the Irish ilk.

As the fest matured, the crowds built up and early organizers retired, moved or died, some of the vibrant élan of those early years has sadly been lost. In the drive for efficiency and for the natural need to be businesslike, a paid executive director has run the show since 1992. 

Yet some folks ask that as the current crop of volunteers tire, age or want to move on to other pursuits, will there be a sufficient number of grunts in the IF family to do the heavy lifting in the future. Organizers say, "sure," pointing out the numbers of youngsters involved over the years who are taking over more and more responsibility. It's a family thing, you know.

While Milwaukee Irish Fest may not be the real Tir na Nog, the Irish folk-tale land of the ever-young, at least it will be as close as most of us will ever get. See ya on the grounds.

What to do at Milwaukee Irish Fest, 2001:
* Learn to make Celtic jewelry at the Irish Fest summer school.
* Buy a bodhran (an Irish drum).
* Stroll the Moore Street Market.
* Mutter under your breath once again that no Guinness or Murphy's stout is served on the grounds because they aren't brewed in Wisconsin.
* Take in the exhibit on Broadway songwriter George M. Cohan.
* Say few prayers for the combative Northern Irish at the Liturgy for Peace and Justice, a service to be led by Bishop Norbert Dorsey of Orlando. Dorsey is national chaplain of the Ancient Order of Hibernians.
* Listen to poetry.
* Eat a potato.
* Attend the Scattering, the fest's finale when all the musicians assemble to say farewell.

What not to do at Milwaukee Irish Fest, 2002:
* Ask if the festival is outta beer if storm sirens wail
* Call an Irish pugilist a "cabbage head."
* Miss the theater tent.
* Drop copies of Irish publications on the ground. Take 'em home to read.
* Tell your friends that you'll be"the guy in the green shirt" if they want to find you.

Martin Hintz is publisher of The Irish American Post and contributes to Irish Music Magazine, World of Hibernia, the Belfast News, Radio-Television Erin and similar Irish media outlets.