When the U-Bahn releases carriages of people in full body green at Münchner Freiheit late on Sunday morning and security personnel set up in the middle of Leopoldstrasse, with “Guinness” emblazoned chest-high on their neon yellow jackets, then the time has come: St. Patrick’s -Day-Parade is starting again after a three-year Corona break, for the 25th time. Shortly after noon, the Isar Irish and everyone whose heart beats in shamrock green move from the heart of Schwabing to Odeonsplatz and celebrate the Irish national holiday there. As good as it gets on this Sunday when it’s drizzling.
Lord Mayor Dieter Reiter and his wife Petra take part in the parade in the carriage.
(Photo: B. Lindenthaler/imago)
According to the police, 10,000 spectators came this year. In 2019 there were 50,000 and the parade was considered the largest in mainland Europe. In spite of everything, the mood this year was boisterous. Neither the audience nor the 1300 participants in the train let the good mood be spoiled by the weather. With 63 groups, the parade in Munich is the second largest – after the traditional costume parade at the Oktoberfest.
Mayor Dieter Reiter waves as patron of the festival in a green scarf from the carriage, his wife Petra is sitting next to him. The parade crowd warms up with the drum roll, blows themselves warm with the flute or bagpipes or drives up their body temperature with Irish dancing. They pass by in the most beautiful kilt, as wild fellows, Upper Bavarian music clubs, from the Munich Scottish Association to the Schwuhplattler, everything is there. First and foremost Wolfgang Schramm in the garb of Saint Patrick and Paul Daly as Grand Marshal. At her side are six Irish wolfhounds.
Beckett and Shaw target the pews
“It feels like a fresh start,” says Paul Daly in the dim light of his three days before the parade Killian’s Irish Pub at the Frauenkirche. “I think back to the first parade and that I wanted to do it so that my four children, who were born here in Munich, are reminded of their Irish side.”
Paul Daly, co-founder of Munich’s St. Patrick’s Day and Grand Marshal on stage at Odeonsplatz.
(Photo: Florian Peljak)
Daly is a co-founder of the first St. Patrick’s Day parade in 1996 on the Isar, his pub, in which he tells it in the most beautiful island accent, a reminder of the past: the guests move together here on dark, long wooden benches that once stood in churches between Cork and Cavan. Black-and-white photographs of Irish villagers watch them from the walls and, with a stern gaze, Samuel Beckett and George Bernhard Shaw, one of the island’s great writers next to the other.
The longing of the Isar Irish was great in 1996 to celebrate their national holiday on March 17 like many of their compatriots scattered around the world. “Right from the start it was supposed to be a festival that brought the Irish, Bavarians and the rest of the world together,” says Daly. In Munich, the parade traditionally takes place the weekend before – then traffic can be regulated more easily.
“Dublin fair city, where the girls are so pretty.”
As much as Paul Daly loves the Emerald Isle, she couldn’t keep the young Irishman. Although he comes from where many are drawn to: “Dublin fair city/where the girls are so pretty.” The musician Daly sings the national anthem down in the pub basement. Otherwise, his origin sounds like the purest island stuff: “I grew up near the Guinness brewery, my school was right next door, the church where I was an acolyte, too. Since I was four years old, I’ve had everyone Smelled Guinness that day, that was very pleasant back then.”
Beer, a Catholic setting, green meadows: the Irish have felt related to the Bavarians for half an eternity. After all, Irish wandering monks had been on the proselytizing here since the 7th century, the Irschenberg refers to this by name. Daly can talk about it for a long time. “Did you know that ‘Grüß Gott’ is derived from the Irish ‘Dia dit’, meaning ‘God be with you’?”
Obviously in a good mood: spectators in downtown Munich.
(Photo: Florian Peljak)
St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated in Munich for a weekend – and religion has a firm place in it: “Hail glorious Saint Patrick” resounds on Saturday evening from the packed St. Ludwigskirche, where the Catholic service is traditionally celebrated as a musical high mass Harp, bagpipes and the sung Our Father in Gaelic. There are shamrocks on the altar. Pastor Christof Breitsameter blesses the three-petalled green symbol of the island, “Shamrock”, which represents the Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Bavaria was a place of longing for young Paul Daly, who had no desire to languish as a bank clerk in Dublin. In 1983 he arrived in Germany after a western European tour with guitar and banjo. After stopovers in Erlangen and Regensburg, he settled down as a musician and bartender in Munich, because there is a large Irish community here and no pub run by an Irishman. In 1989 he did that in Schwabing sham rock on; umpteen other pubs in southern Germany follow. Today the family only operates Killian’s Irish Pub at the Frauenkirche. Since Paul Daly retired, it has been run by his sons.
Flag throwers on the way to Odeonsplatz.
(Photo: Florian Peljak)
In general, younger people took over the organization at the St. Patrick’s Day Festival. “The youngsters come from Irish sports clubs that exist in Munich and are interested in St. Patrick’s Day continuing,” says Daly. Derek Mc Donnell, chairman of the Irish football club GAA in Munich, is now also chairman of the Munich Irish Network, which organizes the festival.
Student jobs at BMW attracted young Irish people to Munich in the 1970s
Irish people are no longer so drawn to Munich today. Around 1000 still have their main residence here. In 1996 there were twice as many. Berlin is now a stronger magnet. “There’s the young scene, it’s more exciting there,” says Daly. After the Olympic Games, Munich was popular in the 1970s, also because of lucrative student vacation jobs at BMW.
When Daly reaches the end of the parade on Sunday, it’s raining softly. For the first time this year he is Grand Marshal, an honorary position. “This recognizes someone who has made a difference to the Irish community.” He saved the role for the time “when I want to stop”. He laughs. “I’ve said that about quitting before. Says my wife.”