29-05-2025
Ernest Cantillon: 'An empty restaurant, built to have lots of people enjoying themselves. It was strange, haunting'
Electric on the South Mall, an art deco building, built in the 1930s by the O'Shea brothers who came back from Chicago after the 1929 crash. I bought it in 2009, and O'Shea Brothers renovated it for me. It had a lot of history – for me, an emotive place.
I opened it as a bar and restaurant in 2010, I was 27, my biggest undertaking before or since. Quite quickly, it became a big business. We were open all hours – at its busiest, we had 60 employees.
I lived nearby, on the Grand Parade. Effectively, I lived in Electric for 13 years – everything bar slept. I adored it. My father's office was two doors down, my grandfather was a GP next door – they used to live over the surgery. We have a phenomenal history with that part of town.
My mother, brother, and sister were in and out multiple times a day. I met my wife, Sally, there in 2011. My family, Sally's family, ate there every Christmas Eve. So, Electric was more than a job, there was a big emotional connection.
We were very busy, vibrant, heading into covid – we never really emerged out of covid. It was like turning around a ship – I couldn't re-ignite it, could never seem to catch up.
So the 24-hour period: December 23, 2023. I didn't necessarily know that day it would be the last day. Our plan was to close from Christmas into January while I assessed what to do. I knew something dramatic would happen: it was no longer going to be Electric with me at the helm. It was the end of a chapter – I was no longer the best person to run that business, I was out of ideas.
That last day was bittersweet. Bizarrely, it was a very nice day. By that time in December, most people are on holidays, everyone's in good form. That day every year, lots of people home for Christmas would call in. Hundreds worked there over the years – we took on lots of college students in the summer – so people back from Dublin, the UK, would call in.
But it was a highly emotional day. There were staff who'd been there since it opened. We were a crew who enjoyed working together, and I was breaking that up. My life was so interconnected with it – routine-wise my default was to go to Electric. It would be strange not having that anymore.
I was very proud of Electric, my name synonymous with it. It was scary, terrifying – someone would come the next day and the door would be closed. There was a feeling of having let down colleagues.
There was also relief. I wasn't going to have to keep slogging on – it had been a hard slog since covid.
My family came in for dinner, my three sons too – the last time we'd eat there as a family. Walking out, 9pm, Lou Reed's 'Walk on the Wild Side' playing, Sally and I stopped. In that moment, I knew I was walking out on a chapter that had dominated my life for 13 years.
Even covid, while initially stressful, I knew the world couldn't fail. Whereas now, we were the only ones closing. On your own, it's a very public failure, particularly when your identity's tied up in it.
I was on top of the practical side – I had good advisors, accountants. It was: What will I do with myself? I felt people's perceptions of me would change. There was a period when I was almost embarrassed, self-conscious, walking down the Mall. It was almost like the death of a friend, like losing a bit of yourself.
It took a year to sell the building. An empty building takes lots of maintenance – I went in most days. Definitely not good for the soul. An empty restaurant, built to have lots of people enjoying themselves... It was strange, haunting.
Supporters of the Cork City Hospital's Children's Club gathered at the Lough, Cork, to announce details of their upcoming fundraiser, "Lap the Lough," where a trail of coins will circle the Lough on June 2nd. Included are John Looney, Mick Finn, Ernest Cantillon, Pat Fitzgibbon, Emer O'Mahony and Eimear McCarthy. Picture Dan Linehan.
The staff of Electric were so unbelievably understanding and supportive, all of them so concerned for me. Small acts of kindness meant a massive amount. People sending messages, saying they'd got engaged there, brought their parents when they'd got their first job, people with fond memories of summers they'd worked there, picking up glasses – those messages were hugely consoling.
I'm disappointed Electric failed.
Knowing I gave it my best shot – just all my ideas had run their course – makes it easier.
And I'm still here – involved in other business projects, less encumbering, less stressful. There's a whole other part of you besides your job, your business. My life's happy, I have healthy children. I like what I do. Losing Electric is one of the biggest bad things to happen to me, which puts it in perspective – makes me realise how happy my life has been.
Getting back up, dusting yourself off – I didn't know I had resilience. I discovered I've a bit of steel in me.
If I'd known at the outset, 'I'll have 12 great years with Electric and on the 13th I'll fail', I'd say all day long: I'd do it again. It was worth it, I wouldn't change it.
Ernest Cantillon is an organiser with the 'Lap The Lough' fundraiser in aid of Cork City Hospitals' Children's Club taking place this Bank Holiday Monday, June 2, 11am to 2pm. The fundraising event aims to create a full circle of Euro coins in a ring of hope to help bring sick children to Disneyland Paris. Donate here.
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