Cashel medicine man who came to pharmacy by chance

When I ring Seán Ó Duibhir to arrange an interview, he scoffs at the idea of being called an artisan and jokingly says, “We should meet up at The Bothan Scoir, that was an artisan’s cottage in the 1700s.”

This light hearted approach sets the tone and the conversation frequently veers off track, encompassing the diverse, rich and varied aspects of humankind that Seán has encountered throughout his fourscore years of life. It is all about the people, the characters, the interactions.

“I came to pharmacy very much by chance,” he laughs. “Indeed, the greatest factor may well have been that The Princess Bus company was running a daily shuttle service between Cashel and Thurles,” her said.
I meet Seán at his home, 34 Main Street, Cashel. The shop facade, with the name ‘Ó Duibhir, Poitigéir’ highlighted in black, using the Gaelic script, does have a certain bearing of the artisan about it.

FAMILY FRIEND
Seán begins his story in 1959, the year he did his Leaving Certificate. His father died when Seán was just seven years of age and the family drapery business had been leased to another O' Dwyer, Tom, who, although having the same name, was actually no relation.

Dan Grant, who was a valued family friend advised Seán’s mother of a vacancy at PJ Hickey’s Pharmacy in Thurles that might well suit the young lad.

Dan himself worked at Downey’s Pharmacy on the Main Street, where the present NCBI charity shop is situated, but he could see that Seán would be better suited for the position in Thurles. The availability of transport by way of the aforementioned Princess Bus left little room for argument.

A three-year apprenticeship at Hickey’s gave Seán the qualification of pharmaceutical assistant. At school he was quite adept at languages and had a particular liking for Latin which would, as it turned out, stand to him for a training in pharmacy.
Encouraged by PJ Hickey, Seán responded to a call from the Pharmaceutical Society to pursue a further three years at college in Dublin to become a fully qualified pharmacist.

“College,” he jokes, “was as much a test of my cycling abilities as my brainpower, as it involved commuting between the College of Science (now Government Buildings) to mid-morning lectures at Earlsfort Terrace (The National Concert Hall) and afternoons out at the College of Pharmacy at Ballsbridge. In Final Year, Belfield came on-stream,” said Sean.

Nestled among the family photographs on the mantlepiece in Seán’s sitting room is a well-preserved shot of the group of young men on graduation day and Seán fondly mentions some of their names.
Following graduation, Seán took up an appointment in Cahir as manager of O’Donnell’s Pharmacy on Castle Street before deciding to open a pharmacy in his hometown.

OPEN FOR BUSINESS
He mentions his mother’s reservations about giving up his job and admits it was something of a gamble as there were two chemists already here in town, Tom Kennedy and Leon McNamara. Seán opened for business on March 16, 1968.
The gamble paid off. “People were very good to me and of course they had been used to coming into the shop when it was a drapery,” he said.

He describes coming in the front door to choose your material for a suit or dress before going to another part of the building where three or four tailors and dressmakers were at work, and you would be measured there for the outfit. Seán mentions the names of the staff, all long gone to their eternal reward.
Seán maintains that the essence of pharmacy is “The trust that people place in you and the confessional nature of a customer’s requirement.”

And when it comes to dispensing, the final responsibility rests with the pharmacist to interpret a doctor’s prescription.
Seán sees the pharmacist as bridging the gap between patient and doctor. One thing he always enjoyed was the one-to-one discourse that went with the job and he suggests that knowing people outside the pharmacy made the job easier.

“It’s an education in itself meeting people, and very often the topic would be hurling or drama or the Irish language and the pharmacy was only an addendum,” said Sean.
wonderful staff

Seán says that he had wonderful staff and sometimes a customer would reply, when asked if he, Seán, could assist them, “It’s alright, I’ll wait for the boss,” referring to the younger pharmacist behind the counter, who might have been more highly rated for their consultancy skills.

As a self-confessed ‘townie’, Seán was, in the early years, surprised at the volume of demand for veterinary medicines.
A few doors further up the Main Street, Derry O’Connor had just established his veterinary business, but it was the pharmacist who stocked and dispensed veterinary prescriptions.
On the table beside Seán is Downey’s Pharmaceutical Book for the year 1943 and given to him by Dan Grant. As soon as he opens and begins to read, I realise we have travelled back to an era when pharmacy might well be described as artisan in its practice.

Latin phrases abound and we are in a time when the measurements were in ounces, minims, drams and scruples. We are talking of the time of Apothecary where the mortar and pestle was in daily use.
Seán picks out one particular item that has a list of ingredients for an infant’s cough bottle: Tincture of Ipecac, Melaleuca, Aqua Pura.

EARLY YEARS
During Seán’s early years in the business, prescriptions often carried instructions in Latin (post cibum, ante cibum, ter in die etc) and instructions on a prescription were hand written by the pharmacist.
The advent of computerisation in the 1980s brought that era to an end. Seán notes that the computer and the necessary skills to use it have replaced virtually every other piece of apparatus and equipment needed.

Requests have also changed. The late Dean Woodworth, who was custodian of the Bolton Library, had consulted with the Bodleian Library in Oxford for a suitable substance to use as a preservative for old book covers.

Seán still has that list of materials the Dean gave him to procure that included wool fat, bees wax, cedarwood oil and hexion to be applied with cotton stocking net.

On another occasion, he had to concoct a selection of ingredients for use as a massage rub for greyhounds. Seán reads out the list: eucalyptus oil, spirits of turpentine, methylated spirits, goose grease, olive oil and wintergreen. With a glint in his eye Seán adds that the final ingredient, being an illicit alcohol, would be procured by the owner of the greyhounds.
There is no hesitation in the answer to my question about the challenges. “Having to be ever present.”

A prerequisite of every pharmacy is to ensure that there is always a qualified pharmacist available during business hours.
“The half-day on Wednesday was a godsend, an afternoon of golfing in the open air, even if I had to do a couple of hours work when I came home,” said Sean.
Back then, doctors would do house calls in the afternoons and a prescription might need to be dispensed immediately.

SPORT ENTHUSIAST
On Saturday night, it was customary to open until 9pm but for Seán, a keen supporter of sporting fixtures, the Sunday morning opening was the greatest bugbear.
Throughout the course of his career, Seán witnessed the dramatic improvement and availability of antibiotics, and in particular, antibiotics for specific infections. He talks of sleeping tablets being refined from their barbiturate heavy duty form in the early days.

When we touch on the subject of drug addiction, his countenance and tone have no trace of the levity that has marked the conversation up until now.
I leave Seán’s company with the thought that there’s much truth in the adage of laughter being the best medicine.

PROUD FAMILY MAN
The ability to get on with people he rates as being the most important quality in all aspects of life. Seán Ó Duibhir is very much a proud family man who radiates enthusiasm and joie de vivre; involved, as he says in his own inimitable way, “with a plethora of people from different organisations,” all of which have made an immeasurable contribution to the community, the town of Cashel and far beyond.

If not an artisan in the purest meaning of the word, I might venture to suggest a broader definition that encompasses the multiple attributes that a person might bring to bear in their lifetime’s contribution towards making the world a better place for us all.

Two books, Artisans of Clonmel and Artisans of Cashel, were published before Christmas.
They were launched as part of Clonmel Applefest and the Cashel Arts Festival. They both carry the stories of craftspeople in the community.
Over the coming months The Nationalist will carry stories from both books.
The article for this week was written byPierse McCan
Pierse McCan lives close to the village of Dualla. Married to Josephine, they have five grown-up children. He has been involved in farming for the last forty years and is currently pursuing a Masters at the University of Life.