A Mayo judge who had wit, wisdom and compassion

Tribute to the late District Judge Bernard Brennan

by John Melvin

COMING as he did from a publican/farming background, Judge Bernard Brennan, whose death took place recently at his home in Tubbercurry, was a man of the people.

Popularity is not something that comes with the job of being a District Judge but I think I can say without fear of contradiction, the late ‘Barney’ Brennan, as he was more affectionately known, was one of the most popular judges to serve on the bench during my time covering courts for The Connaught Telegraph.

It is, of course, important to put the Sligo man’s term (he was a native of Tubbercurry) on the bench in the context of how the law was interpreted and applied during the and ‘80s and ‘90s compared to now.

Fines and penalties, including prison sentences, were a lot more lenient, but, then, it was a case of the punishment fitting many of the crimes, a good few of which could be best described as misdemeanours, with violent crimes very few and far between, although there were quite a few drink-related assaults (shemozzles, as Michael O’Hehir called them), but the only deadly weapon I ever reported on being produced was a clenched fist.

Domestic and family law matters rarely troubled the courts - well at least they rarely appeared before the courts - but that may be for other reasons entirely.

Anyway, significant changes have also taken place in the seriousness of crimes which the courts have to deal with today compared to Bernard Brennan’s day.

A packet of woodbine was the nearest thing you would get to cannabis and coke was a fizzy drink that came in a bottle.

The law, and the administration of justice, has changed significantly and it was most unusual for a court day to extend beyond lunch time, unless there was a major civil action relating to a right of way, or a claim and counter claim over damages arising out of a car accident.

Courts began at 11 a.m. and usually finished by 2 p.m.

Judge Brennan believed in talking with defendants rather than at them and he was responsible for brokering many a peaceful settlement himself between families over litigation in land disputes, which were a common theme back in the day.

He had the common sense approach, dispensing the following advice and preventing many a case going to a hearing:

“Ye are neighbours and ye will spend the rest of your lives as neighbours.

“It is up to ye to decide if ye can live together in some sort of peace and my advice would be to try and settle this amicably amongst yourselves. Life is too short.”

It was good advice and while it didn’t always work, at least he got neighbours negotiating.

Bernard Brennan was from the old school of justice. He was an utter gentleman. A man who brought wit and laughter to many of his verbal engagements with defendants.

I can’t remember him - and I covered his courts for close on a decade - crossing swords or raising his voice in an acrimonious manner with solicitors or even defendants, and there were a few whose clients made regular appearances in his Claremorris court in particular.

In fact, Barney was on personal name terms with a few of his more regular clients.

Sending a person to jail was not a remedy in his view unless the matter was of the utmost seriousness and I don’t think he made any significant contribution to keeping the numbers up in the jails of Ireland during his term on the bench.

Coming from a publican and farming background, it was inevitable that his sympathies often leaned in favour of the poor publicans who appeared on a regular basis before his courts, which included Kilkelly, Claremorris, Ballyhaunis and Ballaghaderreen.

At that time it was a case of three strikes and you’re out and after hours drinking was pretty commonplace.

If a publican was caught for a third time, the judge had the power to remove his licence but I’d be willing to have a hefty bet that not many pubs were closed down during Barney’s time on the bench. He was not inclined towards closing a family business, particularly when it was such a vital part of the heritage of rural Ireland.

Gardaí were regular callers to bars and hotels on Good Friday and Christmas Day.

For Christmas Day (and I do speak from personal experience here) it was a known fact - and in many cases an accepted fact - that many pubs were allowed to operate - strictly for a very short time - to allow the woman of the house time to prepare the Christmas dinner.

If a husband and wife happened to be caught in a pub after hours - again, not an uncommon occurrence - the woman could rest assured that she would benefit from the mercy of Judge Bernard Brennan, who felt it was the man’s job to pay for his misdemeanours, while the woman had the case against her dismissed.

Times were hard, and surely to God you couldn’t impose fines on both parties in such cases, was the view of the learned judge.

One of the customs of the old days was for the judges of the time (not all judges practiced this custom, I hasten to add) to invite members of the legal profession, court service and members of the press for a Christmas drink at a local hostelry, and Christmas coincided on a good few occasions with the last December court in Ballyhaunis.

I had the pleasure of being in the company of my late friend from the Western People, Mick O’Connell, the honourable Judge Bernard Brennan and one or two local legal eagles in Curley’s bar on one such Christmas.

It was a short but enjoyable gathering and while Mick O’Connell had to be restrained from giving a blast of the ‘West’s Awake’ so early in the day, we enjoyed the banter, the laughter and pleasure that came with being in the company of a great judge who was also a good judge of character, a man of the people who always administered justice with an even hand, but, above all, with compassion.

May his gentle soul rest in peace.