The Poolbeg Chimneys are almost synonymous with the idea of Dublin itself. Situated east of Ringsend, they are commonly used as a reference point for beach-joggers and tourists alike. Whilst perhaps not as famous as the odd-looking Spire or the infamous Temple Bar, they harbour a tremendously intriguing history – one that may serve first and foremost to demonstrate Ireland’s scientific prowess, together with the city’s vibrant popular culture and aesthetic. The relationship between the three is indeed perichoretic: their conflation has proven essential to the landmark’s indelible status.
As any Dubliner would know, Dublin had a bit of a thing for chimneys. A remnant of its past, they are telling of the industrialism that swept through the city in the 19th century.
As any Dubliner would know, Dublin had a bit of a thing for chimneys. A remnant of its past, they are telling of the industrialism that swept through the city in the 19th century. Though most of them have now been disestablished, three still remain: (i) the Shanagarry Chimney; (ii) the tendentious Ballsbridge Swastika Laundry chimney, and; (iii) you guessed it… our wondrous (and comparatively anachronistic) Poolbeg stacks – the erection of which, arguably, marked the end of this craze.
The chimneys were originally commissioned by the ESB in 1965 to meet the increasing consumption needs of Dublin’s citizens. Initial planning began nearly eight years before commission, and were headed by – inter alia – Maurice O’Sullivan. It was him who equally oversaw their design. To meet such needs the chimneys were calculated to be 207 metres tall, constructed using reinforced concrete, and generating at least 490 MW of energy. The team thus set out to foremostly lay down deep concrete foundations for stability and support; following which the slip-form method was utilised to controllably pour concrete to allow for the formwork to rise. Inside the concrete structure, a core was constructed to house the flues that would carry the hot gases from the power generation process. In effect, the flues needed to be heat-resistant to withstand the high temperatures generated by the plant. All throughout, wind stability proved a major concern. Engineers were thus presciently left with the need to carefully ensure that the chimneys would withstand strong winds. The notorious red and white stripes were then painted onto the main structures, and in 1971 the long-awaited endeavour had finally been completed. The first two units cost the State £20,000,000. The third unit, completed seven years thereafter, cost the State £40,000,000.
Thus born from meticulous engineering and technical prowess, they stand as enduring examples of innovation and utility; their towering stature a conversation between physical reality and aspiration.
Illustration: Alice Gogarty for Trinity News
Whilst not exactly revolutionary in se, the Chimneys do lie adjacent to the Pigeon House generating station: the first station in the world to generate three-phase power – now the most common method used by electric grids to transfer power. Returning to the Chimneys, it must be noted that the aforementioned slipshod method – whilst praxis in most Western States – was still considered technically advanced at the time; especially when utilised in the context of a scheme as grand as that of the Chimneys. Further, their remarkable height and slender profile were built to perpetually defy prevailing wind forces. Thus born from meticulous engineering and technical prowess, they stand as enduring examples of innovation and utility; their towering stature a conversation between physical reality and aspiration. Beyond their structural marvel, the Poolbeg Chimneys encompassed other compelling scientific facets. Their role as part of the Poolbeg Generating Station was generally dovetailed with impressive thermodynamics and environmental science. Regarding the former, the heat-resistant flues within the colossal columns served as conduits for hot gases generated during electricity production. This ensured efficient energy conversion. With respect to the latter, it is important to note that, as air quality awareness grew, the structures assumed a role in understanding the impact of industrial activities on the atmosphere: indeed, their presence fostered dialogues about urban air pollution and sustainability.
Currently, units 1 and 2 have a design output of 120 MW; whereas unit 3 has a design output of 271 MW. Both use a turbo-alternator (though supplied from different countries). Uniquely among power stations run by the Electricity Supply Board, all three units in the thermal plant can currently fire on oil or gas, the latter being supplied to the site via the Bord Gáis network.
More than anything, however, the Chimneys are renowned for their domineering presence in popular culture.
More than anything, however, the Chimneys are renowned for their domineering presence in popular culture.These red and white sentinels that pierce Dublin’s sky bear not only the weight of their concrete cores but also the city’s cultural significance; they are woven threads in the tapestry of Dublin’s identity.
In the grand theatre of Irish culture, the chimneys share the stage with luminaries like U2 and James Joyce. U2’s music video for “Pride (In The Name of Love)” captures the band against the backdrop of these iconic structures in an attempt to presumably make the Chimneys resolute and unwavering – veridical symbols of a resurgent Ireland (indeed anthem echoing U2’s very ethos). Just as Bono’s voice reverberates, so too do these structures.
And then there’s Joyce, the wordsmith who crafted Dublin into a literary canvas. The chimneys, with their distinctive hues, paint strokes of familiarity across the cityscape. In Ulysses, Dedalus is said to have ‘turned northeast and crossed the firmer sands towards the Pigeon House’. Though not exactly representative of the Chimneys, Joyce did effectively immortalise the general territory upon which the stacks now stand – implicitly giving it connotations of integrity to the city’s identity.
On a parenthetical note, one Patrick O’Reilly had planned to adorn the Chimneys with lights, in order to obtain a daily night time display similar to that evidenced with the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Though talks had taken place with the ESB in 2006, not a word of it has been since spilled. One hopes this brilliant idea may soon come to fruition.
These chimneys are not mere concrete; they’re conduits of collective memory. Protected since July 2014, they stand as witnesses to Dublin’s transformation. Amid the hustle and bustle of busy city life, they have firmly stood still, as a silent chorus in the city’s ongoing symphony. Their towering presence has weathered shifting winds, political currents, and artistic endeavours. Now, as Dubliners look to the chimneys, one may only hope that they may get a glimpse both of history and industrial resplendence.
