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Jume 4, 2025
Long Post Warning: This post is long - grab a beer.
Once upon a time in the small village of Sterling, Virginia, there was a magical place called O'Faolain's.
It was an Irish pub tucked into one end of a modest shopping center, anchored by a thrift store and a Chinese restaurant.
On the surface, it had charm-large mahogany bar, variable-height urinals-but the real magic came from the people inside.
Staff and patrons turned it into a second home, for many, including me.
O'Faolain's opened in 2004..
It was the third pub owned by Paddy Whelan, a retired barrister from Ireland.
"O'Faolain" is the Gaelic form of his surname.
During their first week, the managers - Justin and Emmet - visited nearby office buildings handing out food samples and flyers.
One of those buildings was mine.
My business partner, Tom Kiernan, had Irish heritage, so we wandered over to check it out.
Turned out, it was exactly the kind of place we didn't know we were looking for.
We became regulars.
Paddy had a pipeline with a hospitality school in Ireland, so the pub had a steady rotation of Irish staff, balanced with locals.
Tom and I often dropped by for late lunches when it was quiet. That's how we got to know the managers-and how we accidentally became their IT department.
One day, the music wasn't playing.
The manager said there was an issue with their computer. Tom offered to take a look.
Five minutes later, the place was back to its usual soundtrack.
From that point on, we were unofficial tech support.
We built a new website for the Pub, fixed their systems when asked, and even recovered data after a ransomware attack.
The pub became part of our lives.
Until March 2020, when it closed due to the pandemic.
But O'Faolain's wasn't just a pub. It was a constellation of characters.
Paddy visited O'Faolain's and his other pubs on a regular basis but left the daily operations to his managers.
Paddy was known to run a tight ship and manage every penny - so getting Paddy to buy you a beer was a challenge accepted by many but accomplished by only a select few.
Pete became a good friend with whom I shared many a pint and each week we would come up with solutions to most of the world's problems. If only we have been given the chance to implement our solutions.
Then there was Meagan, whose smiling face concealed a sharp tongue that had dispatched many a village idiot for saying something stupid - leaving only a small pile of ashes where they had stood moments before.
Petey the bar tender was always looking for the next big thing. I remember stopping by one evening as he was contemplating jumping into the world of Bitcoin.
I noted that the only thing you could buy with Bitcoin at the time was drugs, porn or a Tesla and that I thought the future value would depend on wider acceptance.
I hope he ignored my advice and wonder if that might be part of the reason he was able to open his own Pub - Twisted Cat Tavern - two years ago.
There was also a woman who would show up for an early dinner each day.
It was only later that I learned that Nancy had worked for the Director of National Intelligence (DNI) and was responsible for preparing the President's Daily Brief for President's Clinton and Bush.
The Clancy's, John and Charlene were regulars and had worked for a government agency. I once asked them to tell me about their jobs and they said if they did - they would have to kill me. You figure it out.
There was a gentleman named Dave who often sat by himself at the bar scribbling on a piece of paper.
When I asked him what he was doing one night, he told me he was calculating how many more days he had to work until he would be able to retire.
It turns out he was one of the last COBOL programmers working for the Federal Government and the programs he maintained were the ones that issued all types of payments.
There was David, who everyone called Blue.
He was a former British paratrooper who had once patrolled the streets of Belfast during the Troubles but was warmly welcomed at the Pub.
Blue once told me about the time in the Falkland Islands, where after running low on ammunition, he and his comrades prepared for what would have been the last bayonet charge of the 20th Century.
He later went on to provide security services to CNN staff in Afghanistan.
The Gavins, John and Carol were part of our regular crew and after the Pub closed they were part of the core crew that participated in the regular Fire Pit Happy Hours we started hosting on the patio behind our house.
That crew, including Mike and Robin was instrumental in helping us make it through the upending world of the Pandemic.
Tom and Suzanne, who we met at the Pub became dear friends and they were also part of the Pandemic survival crew.
During one happy hour, Corinne mentioned that she might be looking for a new job and Tom said his software company might be looking for a new CFO.
Five years later Corinne and Tom are still working together.
Francis was a long term manager who managed the Pub as if it was an extended family.
He treated everyone with respect and kindness but was not shy about letting you know if you did something wrong.
I spent many an evening watching Francis go about his duties mostly unnoticed by the patrons as he made sure that everything was running smoothly.
Francis was part of the team that introduced one of the Pub's most popular features - Yappy Hour!
Every Thursday when the weather allowed, the pub would invite patrons to bring their faithful pups to the outdoor patio adjacent to the pub.
There, under a canopy of trees, regulars and strangers would mix along with their furry friends. Fire-pit tables allowed these gatherings to go on well into the cooler months.
Francis and Kevin, another former manager from the Old Country now manage the The Ashburn Pub in Ashburn, Va.
And there was Dear Fiona who was equal parts Sailor and Saint.
Her first run as manager was interrupted by a return to Ireland for cancer treatment. She won that battle and returned with a vengeance.
She could be sweet and motherly when the situation called for it - she hired my daughter Caroline, twice - but she could also drop the hammer when the situation called for it.
It was an impressive feat to behold and I believe that her strategic use of the F-bomb would have impressed the Joints Chiefs of Staff.
More than one patron found themselves "banned for life" by Fiona following some unacceptable bad behavior. A select few were granted clemency and allowed to return after performing the assigned penance.
Sadly, we lost Fiona to a second bout of cancer in September of 2022.
Last but not least there was Gene.
I met Gene at the Pub about 15 years ago when he started visiting soon after he lost his wife.
Gene lived a pretty amazing life and was happy to share tales of his adventures to anyone who was willing to listen.
Once I told him I thought he was a "Raconteur"
A scowl appeared on his face as he looked at me for a moment and said - 'What did you just call me?'"
When I explained that a raconteur is - someone who is skilled at telling stories, especially amusing or interesting ones - he smiled and said "Yeah, I guess I am."
Gene's grandfather actually fought in the Civil War - and he had the obituary in his wallet to prove it.
As Gene approached 90, we started hosting an annual birthday party at the Pub where i had the privilege of giving a roast.
Sadly, Gene is no longer with us and the Pub closed more than five years ago.
But the memories of those days live on in the hearts of the people that were fortunate enough to have discovered the magic that lived in that special place.
Those were the days, my friend...
Sláinte!
