There once was a whisky maker named Sean Finnegan who had two sons. Ian, the eldest son, worked hard in his father’s distillery, learning the craft of whisky making in the hopes that he might inherit the business one day. The younger son, Kip, had no such ambition, preferring to spend his days roaming the streets of Dublin and his nights carousing in the pubs with his friends.\r\n\r\nDisheartened with his younger son’s behavior and worried for his future, Finnegan booked a one-way passage for him on a merchant ship, hoping that Kip would return from his travels a wee bit wiser and ready to earn his keep.
Kip spent five years traveling the world. Everywhere he went, he sought out the warm hospitality of the local drinking establishments. He was quick to make friends and spread good cheer, as only an Irishman can. When he reached America, Kip vowed to cross the entire land but made it only as far as Minnesota, where he met a lass with eyes so blue and hair so fair as to bring an end to his wild rover days.
Kip’s lass was named Molly and he vowed to love her until the end of his days. He wrote to his father and told him of his adventures, his bride-to-be, and his wish to open a pub where travelers would always be welcome to rest their weary feet, enjoy a good meal and warm hospitality, and raise a glass to their homeland.
Sean Finnegan was delighted at the news that his son was finally ready to settle down—and in the whisky trade, no less! He set out at once to find the perfect wedding gift and at last settled on the copper kieve that had stirred the mash for many a batch of his fine Irish whisky. Today the kieve holds a place of honor above the bar in Kip’s Pub, where you are welcome to raise a glass or a pint of ale and bend the barkeep’s ear with tales of your own adventures.