Jailhouse Rock

George Murphy sits behind me in the prison van, his mobile phone abuzz with the evening’s social plans. “Yeah, I’m playing this gig in Wheatfield today,” he tells his friends down the line. Given his nonchalance, they couldn’t be blamed for thinking Wheatfield was the name of a pub.

A medium security prison in the Dublin suburb of Clondalkin, Wheatfield is home to some 370 inmates, all male, serving a range of sentences from four years to life. Today a select group will be treated to an intimate, unplugged performance by George Murphy.
For a baby-faced eighteen year-old and former You’re A Star contestant, Murphy seems remarkably relaxed about singing before a room full of inmates. “I’m grand,” he shrugs as we emerge from the van. “Not a bother.”
I, on the other hand, am preparing for the worst.
“Don’t be surprised if you get a reaction,” warns one prison officer. “A woman is a rare sight around these parts.”
Not so, it seems, a visiting musician. Over the last 14 years, Wheatfield has hosted some of the biggest names in Irish music. Christy Moore, Sinead O’Connor, Paul Brady, Don Baker, Aslan and Mundy – they’ve all done their time performing for the prisoners.
It’s a tradition that’s evolved from the extra-curricular efforts of prison officers Kevin O’Neill and Maurice Doyle. Warm, friendly and passionate about music, they manage to debunk every one of my preconceptions about prison.
“You hear about riots and violence in prisons but the reality is that day to day life is very mundane. And music is a big part of their lives,” explains Kevin as he shows me around an empty cell block (Wheatfield is a working prison).
So why did they approach George Murphy for this year’s performance?
“Oh he’s very popular with the lads. You always hear them playing his CD, and many of them would have followed him on the television,” says O’Neill. “Reggae music also big, Bob Marley and stuff like that. But we’ve all been looking forward to today.”
The idea is that for one hour, for one day of the year, the prisoners can enjoy the inspiration, the warmth, the intimacy, the magic of a live music performance.
Built in 1989, Wheatfield is the only Irish prison with a purpose-built theatre space (complete with lighting and PA systems). Its uses span everything from bingo and trivia nights to church mass and Shakespeare plays performed by the prisoners.
And yet there’s something oddly familiar about this prison. Between the hall and the canteen and the bright, plastic decor, it’s all very much like a secondary boarding school – a feeling that’s only heightened when the prisoners enter the picture.
Introduced to a standing ovation, George Murphy finds himself in a room full of peers. Sitting in groups, tracksuits across-the-board, the average prisoner is just 21 years old. If not for the smoking (prisons being exempt from the smoking ban), the scene could be straight out of any Irish college. Even the prison officers, standing casual but alert at the periphery of the group, seem much more like teachers in the way they engage. But as George kicks off with one of his favourite Lennon songs, ‘Working Class Heroes’, the group sits transfixed – silent and respectful, without a care for anyone but George.
From ‘Blowing In The Wind’ and ‘Stand By Me’ to ‘The Rare Auld Times’ and ‘The Fields of Athenry’, Murphy and his band deliver a heartwarming session of jukebox classics and requests. He even manages to stir a sing-a-long. All the cooks, medics and prison officers have gathered for the occasion, and I get the impression – somewhere during the acapella rendition of ‘The Auld Triangle’ – that George Murphy’s voice is resonating throughout the silent prison.
And then the silence is broken with rapturous applause.
“I didn’t know what to expect coming in here but you’ve all made me feel very welcome,” gushes George. “You seem like a great bunch of people and I’d love to have a pint with you if I ever see you again.”
At this point the Assistant Governor, Hector McLennon, steps forward. “We truly appreciate you giving up your time to perform here,” he says. “Other artists tend to forget about the people in prison.”
“Well I wouldn’t,” laughs George. “I’ve nearly ended up in here myself a few times!”
Back in town, three hours later, and Murphy is still on a high from the prison visit. I ask him if there was any truth to his joking remarks – if there was any particular experience that prompted him to agree to perform at Wheatfield.
“Not personally, no, but as a young fella, I’ve seen the likes of the people who get themselves into trouble,” says Murphy.
“In fairness, my mates are by no means angels. We do get into a bit of trouble and we’ve had our run-ins with the Guards but we’ve been sensible enough and we’ve been lucky enough to grow up in an area where there’s other opportunities.”
Murphy, who still lives in his family home in the north Dublin suburb of Beaumont, had never performed as a singer before his audition, and subsequent rise to fame, with You’re A Star. A year since finishing secondary school, and he’s already got a multi-platinum selling CD to his name.
“Not many people get the opportunity to do what I’m doing now,” says Murphy. “There are other people who end up on drugs or robbing cars and you need facilities for these people. It’s not really their fault when they don’t know any other way.
“A lot of those lads that I met in there today, they’ve been in there for 3 and 4 years, and yet when I go over and talk to them they seem like the nicest people in the world. You can have a chat and a laugh, and yet they’re on the other side – they’ve gotten themselves into trouble, which is sad.”
Acutely aware of his own good fortune, Murphy is pleased to be able to give something back.
“Even though I was only in there for an hour, getting them out of their cells to sit down and have a bit of craic, that’ll mean the world to them,” he says. “And from my point of view, you can’t ask for anything more.
“To put smiles on their faces is just brilliant and I’m really happy in myself that I was there and I’ve done that. If [Wheatfield] ask me again next year I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”

George Murphy’s album, Dreamed A Dream, is out through Sony.

If there are any bands or theatre companies that would be interested in a voluntary performance at Wheatfield Prison, they are encouraged to contact Prison Officer Kevin O’Neill at Wheatfield Prison on (01) 626 0011.