Mike makes one last stop...
THERE’S only one Mike O’Neill, and there’ll only ever be one Mike O’Neill.
He was the bearded, spectacled proprietor of Camp’s Railway Tavern Bar, and by dint of his warm personality and knowledge of his home patch, he was a tourism ambassador at the gateway to the Dingle Peninsula.
And he was so much more than that.
“He loved people, and people loved him,” Camp’s Brigid O’Connor said of Mike, the man who sat behind her all through school. “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel. And Mike Neill made everyone feel like a million dollars.”
At 71 years, Mike O’Neill slipped away peacefully in University Hospital Kerry on Friday. By Monday – thanks to his children, his wife, and the hundreds who cared about him – a send-off as lovely as COVID-19 restrictions could allow was in place.
The miniature Volkswagens that decorate his bar were swapped for the real thing, leading his cortége from his home to his grave in Camp’s New Cemetery. His friends, hundreds of them, lined the route as he passed through – a sight in normal times, and these aren’t normal times.
“When we realised he had passed away, I got on to Gene Finn, and between us we pulled together all the many groups he was involved with,” Brigid said. “Mountaineering, drama, the camino walk, trad music – he was stuck in everything.
“They all wanted to take part, and the Gardaí gave us their blessing. We lined the route between his house and Camp post office, I’d say around 300 of us – and we still observed social distancing.
“We were not leaving Mike Neill go without a send-off. The COVID-19 wasn’t going to beat us.”
To understand why they did it, you’ll need to understand Mike, whose tavern is part pub, part tribute to his unique passions.
You’ve the ‘VW’ miniatures: Volkswagen was his motor, and a second in ‘The Railway’ gets that across.
“I got hooked on Monica
[his first VW, a ‘68 Beatle] and I’m with them since,” he told a film crew a few years back. “I don’t know is it the sound of them or the shape of them – I just like them”.
He remembered the Old Dingle Railway, one of the few left who could, and though it shut when he was a youngster, his tavern doubled up as a kind of railway museum.
“If anyone came into the pub and was new or wasn’t from the area, he made them off,” Brigid said. “If people took interest in the memorabilia, he’d carry them off for the day and show them where it used to stop, where such and such an accident happened – he had it all off.
“He had a thing about trains. I think it started from going in and out of Jack O’Leary’s house; he was the stationmaster, just across the way.
“He travelled the world, a lot of it by train – in fact he crossed Canada just last year. I’m sure he’d have gone on a few more trips if fate hadn’t intervened – because he still had plans, you know.”
And it’s true to say that Mike still had plans. He had walked most of the locality, save for Maum to Annascaul, which was next on his checklist; Tralee Mountaineering Club will do it on his behalf instead.
The bar wasn’t staying shut beyond COVID, he’d vowed. It would re-open in all its quirkiness.
But whatever about his plans, the locals have plans too: to pay him an even bigger tribute. Because, more important than anything else, he made them feel welcome to ‘ The Railway’.
“Everyone’s shattered,” Brigid said. “But one thing’s for certain, there’ll be a big celebration of his life when all this is over – and I tell you something, it’ll be the biggest event ever seen on this peninsula.
“He wasn’t a public persona, but he was as well-known as any president of the world here in Camp.”
Mike O’Neill is sadly missed by wife, Ann; daughter, Tracy; sons, Brian, Darragh, and Eoghan; son-in-law, Thomas; Darragh’s fiancée, Amy; grandchildren Kaitlyn, Clodagh, and Amelia; brother, Nicholas; sisterin-law, Rosari; extended family – and more than a few friends.