One Too Many?

Richard Howard - A Biography (Dec 2006)

A pub landlord and self-professed “socialite”, Richard Howard has an imminent problem on his hands. On July 1st 2007, smoking will be finally made illegal in any indoor public place throughout Britain. That happens to include pubs. “They’re taking the piss,” he scowls as he stubs out the cigarette he has been happily inhaling for the last two minutes. “They’re going to ruin the pub trade. They’re killing this generations’ pastime.”

Born March 23rd 1967, Richard Howard grew up in rather normal surroundings. He was born in Cardiff to the typical ‘nuclear’ family, with working class parents, and two younger brothers. A high achiever in school, he chose to enter the workplace rather than continue his education and soon found himself working behind the bar of his local public house. It provided a little bit of extra pocket money to complement his income as a factory engineer. “I was a trainee, I think they’d call it an apprentice or something of that ilk.” He pauses for thought, instinctively reaching into his cigarette pack for another. I notice that the packet is a little larger than your standard ten-pack or twenty-pack. Upon closer inspection, I see the numbers “24” in large gold numerals on the front of the box. Richard has noticed me noticing. “You gets twenty-four, mate. That’s why I buy them. Lasts me a little bit longer.” I enquire if this strategy saves him any money, but I’m met with a shrug.

“I was making a living, but only just. I was eighteen, I’d moved out of my parents’ house and I had a car on the road, so I was only just getting by. Well, I got a job in a small pub a couple of streets away from my house. I fucking loved it mate. It was so different from the shit I had to put up with every day in the factory… I’d say I was there maybe a month before I’d gone full time. The landlady there offered me an assistant manager’s job, and I bit her fucking hand off.” Putting that disconcerting image aside, I wanted to ask Richard about the atmosphere in his small local pub in the 1980s, compared to the pub we are sitting in at the moment: Richard’s own pub, The Clifton; a large city suburb establishment, more akin to a characterless chain pub than the sort of smoke-filled, horseshoe adorned lounge rooms popular in the past. Before I could, however, a tall nervous teenager, clad in a shirt and tie and sweating profusely, had motioned that Richard’s assistance was required in the kitchen. Richard leaves.

Soon to enter his 40s, I get the impression that Richard is the sort of person clinging to the last remnants of his carefree youth, with silver roots peeking through an otherwise suspiciously dark mop of slightly overgrown hair, his vocabulary generously littered with expletives and dressed in the sort of style more befitting the twenty-somethings serving behind his bar. Rather than living vicariously through them, however, Richard Howard would rather set the pace for them. “Sorry about that, he’s new, needed a bit of help. He’s probably still got a hang over from last night in all honesty, mate. We all went into town and had a couple after work. Well, more than a couple really.” He sniggers and reaches for the cigarette packet again.

I had come to this pub today for a purpose: to get a so-called “everyman” reaction to the forthcoming smoking ban. Richard has been involved in the pub trade from many different perspectives in several different roles. In 1991, Richard had become the manager, and later the landlord, of the local pub in which he first poured pints as a teenager. In 1996, with some financial help from his parents and his then girlfriend, he had bought a pub in a very bustling suburb on the fringe of Cardiff city centre. With lots of passing by trade, and regulars who had been frequenting the premises since the 60s, he took a risk in modernizing the look and feel of the pub. It paid off. “We had a couple of the old boys stop coming in, they didn’t like it anymore. But for the most part, the old regulars still come, and the kids, the teenagers come in all the time too. So it’s the best of both fucking worlds.” Of course, Richard has worked hard to make the pib a success, but also finds the time to stand back and enjoy himself. “Well, I like a drink. I’ll keep drinking until I feel too old to pull it off anymore. I’m not an alcoholic by any means, I just enjoy the social life and having a few with my mates. The only drink problem I have is it’s too fucking expensive.” He lets out a now-familiar snigger, which turns into a sobering coughing fit. This ties me in nicely to my next line of questioning: the dreaded smoking ban, and how he thinks it will affect his business.

“What this government is doing is wrong. They’re happy enough to take all that tax out of the cigarette industry, take all that money out of smokers’ pockets, and then they’re trying to stop us smoking the fucking things when we’ve paid for them! So what will happen? A lot of people only smoke socially, with a drink. If they can’t do that, they won’t buy cigarettes anymore. So, all of a sudden, this percentage of customers won’t be buying fags anymore. Who do you think is going to make up for all that money lost on cigarettes, mate? You and me! The taxpayer! And you’ve got your die-hard smokers, no pun intended. They won’t come and sit in a pub all night and not have a smoke, or go and stand outside in the bloody rain. So they’ll stay at home, and all the tax that the government was making from the alcohol they’ve been drinking, now that’s gone too! So they’ve got to make that up! Next thing you know, we'll be in a bleedin' recession. It’s the tax payer who’s the loser at the end of the day, mate. Fucking pathetic.” I’ve obviously hit a nerve. Richard has been in the pub trade for two decades. I ask him if he has any better suggestions. “I say you give out smoking licenses. Fifty percent of your pubs in any one town or city would allow smoking, and fifty percent won’t. Your customers have got the choice, whether to go to a pub where they know people will be smoking, or they can go to a pub where they know it’s banned. Same with staff. You want a bar job, then go and work in a pub that suits you. You don’t like smoking, apply to work in a bar which hasn’t got a smoking license. Problem solved.”

Of course it is more complicated than simply black or white; there are several shades of smoky grey which would need addressing. However, Richard is adamant; a trait synonymous with the kind of confidence you gain from having discussed something over and over with the hundreds of regulars who pass through his door each day. Having heard and scrutinized tens of opinions on the same subject, eventually you must reach a stage where you have every useless fact and argument at your disposal. When it comes to putting the world straight on the issues of today, Richard is pretty much infallible. In his own mind, at least. So where do Richard, and the pub trade in general, go from here? “Well the big test comes in April. That’s when the ban comes into force in Cardiff. If it doesn’t hit us too hard, I’d like to open up more pubs. Maybe go a little further afield. If not, I’ll fucking pack up and move abroad. Open up a nice bar somewhere sunny where my customers can go outside for a cigarette and not catch pneumonia.”