If you were at Murphy’s this spring, something changed. Almost no one announced it.
Sometime in the rush toward St. Patrick’s Day, between the kegs and the crowds, the pub quietly changed hands.
At first, the signs were subtle. Social posts that felt louder, bolder, and less like the tone of a traditional Irish pub. A shift in voice. Then, more visibly, oversized TVs, air conditioning, and a marble bar top on the patio, with a look that leans more sports bar than Irish pub.
A true public house isn’t defined by its finishes. It is defined by its people. That’s what Murphy’s has been in Wallingford for 45 years.
Since the 1980s, it has been part of the neighborhood’s rhythm. It’s where my daughter and I land most Wednesdays, where my son insists on thanking the kitchen after a good brunch, where birthdays, baptisms, and ordinary weeknights quietly stack into something bigger over time.
Wallyhood meetups have brought together neighbors, volunteers, and elected officials over pitchers, tater tots, and conversation. We held editors’ meetings on the patio back when the tables were wood and the setup felt less intentional, more like something that had grown over time.
Murphy’s reflects Wallingford. So even a quiet change lands loudly.
So what actually happened?
A couple of months ago, an employee confirmed what regulars had started to piece together: Murphy’s had been sold to Royal Hideout LLC, a trucking company owned by three brothers. The message to staff has been consistent: keep the core of the place intact. Not a full reset.
At the same time, most of the staff have turned over. The faces you know are fewer, which makes the ones who have stayed feel especially important right now. You see it in the way people greet them by name, linger a little longer, and hold onto those interactions.
Ahead of this summer’s surge of FIFA soccer fans, the back patio has been redone into something brighter and more polished. Inside, the stage that holds live music and Santa photos now has fresh carpet, and a large TV hangs over the booths. The music runs louder than it used to, but it’s still Irish.
The deeper shifts have been building for a while. Murphy’s does not own the building, and rumors of a sale have circulated for years. In March 2024, the entire half-block property went up for sale and drew interest from developers.
At one point, Murphy’s operators had the chance to buy the land beneath the pub. They tried. There was a push to raise funds and find a partner, but it was always a stretch. Murphy’s was operating with assurancce doled out one year at a time, continuing to serve the neighborhood while knowing the future was uncertain. The new owners now have a three-year lease. Not permanent, but more stability than the pub has seen in recent years.
To understand what comes next, we sat down with Ben Avila, Murphy’s new general manager.
Ben’s connection to the pub runs deep. His parents have cleaned the space for more than 15 years, and he first stepped in himself nine years ago, helping with the St. Patrick’s Day rush. He never really left.
Over time, he grew into the role. What started as a quiet, keep-your-head-down job grew as he found his footing with customers. During COVID, when staffing shifted, former owners Chelley Bassett and Eamonn Davey gave him the chance to step up. He moved from barback to server to bartender, and now into management.
That continuity is part of why the new owners chose him. He already knows this place, and the people in it. He had gotten to know one of the owners, Harry, as a regular. When Harry reached out about the role, Ben saw it as a chance to help guide Murphy’s through a moment of change without losing what made it matter.
Ben kept coming back to one idea: Murphy’s should feel like a living room. Not just a place to get a drink, but a place where you recognize people, where you stay a little longer than you meant to, where the night unfolds naturally.
At the same time, the shift has been felt most in the people. Many familiar faces are gone. The ones who remain stand out more now, anchors in a room still finding its footing. You can see it in how regulars greet them by name, linger a little longer, hold onto the interaction.
There is a real sense of loss. Chelley. Eamonn. Brian. Daniel. Not just staff, but part of the fabric of the place.
Eamonn, in particular, had been working toward taking on full ownership. When the sale happened, that path disappeared almost overnight. His departure, along with others just before St. Patrick’s Day, left a gap at the very moment Murphy’s is usually at its fullest.
Even so, there has been continuity. Chelley and Eamonn helped carry the pub through the transition, ordering beer, answering calls when systems went down, and keeping things steady in ways that weren’t always visible.
That continuity now shows up in smaller, everyday ways. In Ben. In the kitchen staff, keeping things consistent. And in John, behind the bar, a steady, grounding presence who remembers your order, asks about your day, and listens to the answer.
For a place built on familiarity, change like this is never invisible.
And beneath all of it, there is something steadier. This is what a public house does. It holds the rhythm of a neighborhood. People show up without much planning. They expect to see someone they know, and often they do. Conversations start easily. Time stretches a little.
This neighborhood is rooting for Murphy’s. We want it to succeed. We want it to remain a place where people run into each other, where generations mix easily, where you can come in for a pint or a Wallyhood chicken sandwich and feel like you are exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Murphy’s has been part of Wallingford for a long time. We are part of it too. So we will keep showing up and see what it becomes next.
Discover more from Wallyhood
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
