As often happens, today’s ‘Sunday Sequence’ on BBC Radio Ulster/Raidio Uladh had an interesting discussion. It arose from the fact that tonight RTÉ starts a dramatised series of programmes about Charlie Haughey.
One of the things for which Haughey is despised is that he took money raised for the medical treatment of his loyal follower Brian Lenihan. This long-time stalwart was suffering from cancer and the money raised was vital for his treatment. Haughey, the story goes, diverted the money into his own bank account. In the course of today’s discussion Lenihan’s sister Mary O’Rourke clarified the matter. The money raised was considerably over the sum required for the treatment. It was this extra amount which Charlie pocketed.
Angels dancing on a pin-head? I think not. The popular notion, that Charlie took money intended for his long-time and loyal colleague’s treatment and in doing so left said colleague without funds for treatment, is simply not the case. Charlie held onto the overflow, so to say, not the required amount for medical treatment. So he didn’t really betray his old colleague – he dishonestly slipped the extra into his own bank account, a different crime entirely.
In ways that story says much about Haughey. He was a man willing to engage in sharp practice when the opportunity arose. For example, he received some £9 million in donations from wealthy backers of his party. Whether he did them any specific favours in return for said donations is much less clear. He told the Irish people to tighten their belts in the late eighties while living a lavish life himself. But he did manage to bash Irish public finances into some sort of order.
Forr unionists in the north, though, he was the man who tried to smuggle guns into the north in the late 1960s – an unforgivable act. The fact that he was acquitted in court of so doing doesn’t matter to them – he dun it and that’s that.
OK, let’s try to forget he was acquitted and suppose he did attempt to smuggle guns into the north. When did you last hear of something like that being done? Let me think…Wasn’t there something about Larne and a boat there and the authorities looking the other way as a guns shipment was unloaded?
And what might have motivated Haughey had he tried to smuggle guns in? Was it that he was keen to see unionists killed? Somehow I doubt that. Don’t forget what was happening at the time. The Bogside in Derry had been under siege by a combination of RUC, B Specials and Paisleyites; the arrival of the British army prevented something very nasty. In Belfast, Bombay Street was set alight by unionists and people fled for their lives. Even Jack Lynch spoke of not standing idly by. It might be that Haughey felt the only reaction to attack is defence. And before you condemn this response, ask yourself: how would I have reacted if I’d been burned out of my home and forced to flee for my life?
Anyway I’m getting away from the point. As I say I’m looking forward to the TV series. Not because I think it’ll be any great production (the clips I’ve seen look a bit ham-fisted, in fact). But it’ll perhaps raise the possibility that there was good as well as bad in Haughey. Not totally unlike the rest of us, although on a much bigger scale. Besides, who could resist a TV series about a man who gave Thatcher a teapot as a present? No wonder she preferred to deal with the more amenable Garret Fitzgerald.
Dr C
I can’t disregard your accusations regarding unionist behaviour back then.
It’s a documented fact.
End of.
Whataboutry shan’t suffice.
I am interested though as to how you viewed the arrival of the army in NI?
Did you view them as the steely end of an oppressive boot or khaki clad angels of deliverance (or somewhere logically in between)?
I, like many unionists, just saw them as fellow Brits, draughted in to sort out ‘the mess’, never as ‘foreigners’.
How is it possible that a Protestant Donnelly from South Derry might regard Private Donnelly from Glasgow as a fellow Brit whereas a Catholic Donnelly from South Derry might regard Private Donnelly from Glasgow as a foreigner?
Food for thought.
AG – I remember the British army arriving in Derry in August 1969 – the overwhelming majority of people treated them as saviours. They were cheered, brought cups of tea, etc. It was when they started shooting people that things really went down-hill
” It was when they started shooting people that things really went down-hill”
Touche!
AG, – Just like beauty, its in the eye of the beholder!
Current history in context
There were interesting comments about the role of the former leader of the DUP in Divis Street in 1964 during the same programme. Many men are now on record, stating that they were led to the top of a hill, however, when they got back down, some of them went straight to prison. A number of people died as a result of the activities of the UVF in Malvern Street also. Mr Haughey was not operating in a political vacuum.
The past will continue to haunt these islands in the absence of meaningful initiatives. The Berlin – based European Centre for Constitutional and Human Rights continue to deal with allegations about killings and inhuman treatment in Iraq by the British Army between 2003 and 2009. Accountability for the truth about what happened in Ireland and Iraq rests in Westminster.
I remember those times too. Jack Lynch talked about not standing idly by but the assumption was that the republic had a Mickey Mouse army anyway and nobody could figure out how they could really help. There was talk of helping refugees who crossed the border when their homes were burnt out . indeed many of those families probably went in that direction and stayed. Many moved out of belfast for good. The British soldiers were seen initially as defenders of nationalists , strangely enough .It was that topsy- turvy time when good old law-abiding and god-fearing unionism was merrily breaking every civic law available and to hell with god too…Paisley was ring -leader of a gang of club-wielding hillbilly thugs and he led them with his ranting bullshit ….No the soldiers were seen as a buffer against that thuggery . of course it all went completely wrong very quickly which is when the IRA starting ramping up. Haughey and some other southern politicians made a few noises but really nobody down south had their heart in it. They had their own bullshit to deal with anyway and didn’t want any of ours seeping down southwards.
The protestant Donnelly from South Derry would probably be more confused about how he came to be called Donnelly when 99.9% of S Derry Donnellys are taigs!
Mention of Old Hooded Eyes and you can depend upon fond memories to bring the light of other days around one.
Two days, two different Haughey Brothers from Doneycarney, Dublin..And both occasions featuring, curiously enough, the home county of Haughey Major, Derry.
First up, was Padraig ‘Jock’ Haughey, The occasion being the All-Ireland Football Final of 1958 in which Three Castles United defeated the Oak Leaf Blokes by a not so wee six points. Dublin were definitely led by K. Heffernan while Derry were captained by Gentleman Jim McKeever. While Derry lost, McKeever was anything but an underachiever: he went on to win the Footballer of the Year Award.
Like Lady Bracknell losing a handbag, but finding a compact.
The key statistic of this day was the attendance figure in Croke Park : 73,371. An actual attendance: the art of massaging attendance figures is a practice more associated with Madame Aviva’s. Regardless of ball-shape.
And the single digit at the end of that figure was none other than: yes, Perkie’s inner schoolboy official programme seller. An integral part of the, erm, programme designed by the Dowager Dame Warbeck to familiarise the new generation with the peasantry and their pastimes.
On the calculated basis that the experience (harrowing though it might be) would later prove invaluable when the day would eventually dawn for the latest inheritor of the Warbeck warchest to engage in the most crucial challenge he would ever have to face in his career : the winnowing of the harvest of domestic applications which crowd the portcullis of Warbeck Towers ever year.
The Dowager’s Dame doctrine could be summarised thus: ‘a Dynasty is only as strong as its most humble bushes beater in the grouse season’.
How and ever, once the referee (there’s normally an ef in there somewhere but not of that day) blew his final whistle to proclaim the team in the ganseys of Our Lady’s sky blue (the blue and bluer gansey had yet to come) the programme seller called Perkie was out of the traps and had hared half way across the pitch before the players had even got around to shaking hands, or not.
Having craftily concealed an ‘unsold’ progamme in the knee high stocking on his left leg (peg in soccer) for the particular purpose of using it as an autograph receptacle the first nose under which he thrust same was that which belonged to the face of the Dublin right half-forward. Whose succinct reply was, in the first flush of victory:
-Wouldja ever phugh off !
To this day Perkie’s inner-traumatised autograph seeker is still, at odd moments, even as he prunes the crop of Sam McGredy Florabundas in the rose gardens at WT with his greedy secateurs, given to wonder what exactly Padraig ‘Jock’ Haughey (for it was he!) would have done if he had been on the team which had just finished second.To wonder; and to shiver.
Fast forward to Government Buildings in 1991 where Jock’s older bro, Charles J was the skipper of the Free Southern Stateen at the time. The auspicious occasion being the renovation of that noble pile in Portland Stone.
The Press, being the permanent power-brokers, were given priority when it came to viewing privileges, ar ndoigh. Such was the clamour and scramble from that normally reticent source that their visiting hours had to be organised on a staggered basis.
Staggered, is right: read on.
Perkie, who was still (!) on his ‘peasant and their pastimes’ familiarisation programme’ found himself in charge of the Eleven O’ Clock Lot (a.m.) as he guided them into the inner sanctum of Old Hooded Eyes. His past experience as an official programme seller stood to him in good stead when applying for a post-modern post in Upper Merrion Street.
Resplendent in his Governmental glad rags – charvet shirt (six and a half inches of which unflawed pedigree poplin, with round onyx cuff links, were showing precisely below the pin-striped sleeves of the Louis Copeland suit), silk Powerscourt tie, classic cotton Argyle socks by H.J.Hall exquisitely complementing the navy blue Oxford brogues by Paul Smith – the Brooding Beggar was perched, not on Horseback, but rather on the leading corner of his mahogany, Doneycarney-sized desk.
He was, you might say, in his element. Even as he regaled the visitors with a potted, off by heart back story of the resplendent building and its furnishings in those measured, sonorous, knell-like tones of his.
Or rather was, till one member of the assembled hackademics detached herself (no names, no pack drill) to do a spot of solo exploring. The wall panels exercised a particular fascination as she palmed this way and that. Suddenly, in a shrill Folye-side contralto:
-How’s about ye, Tee-shock ! Where’s the wee drinks cabinet located here ?
Suddenly the Oirish oval office took on the surroundings of the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City:one could hear a pin drop. Indeed, the pin-striped Taoieach (for it was he !) almost did.
No word was spoken for a number of taut moments. Though four unspoken ones were: for Perkie’s inner official programme seller could deciper them beneath those hooded eyes:
-Wouldja every phugh off !
It could quite possibly have been an inherited family mantra.
The burning question on my lips Jude is “how can we make it better”, will it all go away if the country is united, or maybe you would like all the “foreigners ” to go to.
Am Ghobsmacht, told me off for the whataboutery, what’s the difference, yes I know it’s your blog….anyway thank you for reminding me.
I love this actor who plays Charlie Haughy, I have watched him in Games of Thrones and Love/Hate.
I thought Jack Lynch was the saviour back in 1969.
As I have told you all many times, there was more going on in my life then. I was not interested in politics, though I do regret that I did not show more interest in Vietnam.
But back then I was in love with myself, could hardly walk past a mirror and not look at myself, fashion the whole shebang had it all, many a Brit whistled at me, and I lapped it up.
Ah but the years have flown, though kind to me, I have had such a good life, now I am sixty and six months old, reading Carson, the man who divided Ireland, by Geoffrey Lewis, at present.
So I shall alter my schedule for tonight, thanks to you dear Jude, and watch Charlie.
Norma
Glad to hear it, Norma…Why do I sometimes get the feeling you’re playing a character in a drama of your own making?…
Seriously Jude,
All joking aside. This is what I recall from that period of time. I grew up in the Sandy Row area, tho I was born on the Donegall Rd, I left school in June 69, my parents left the area in November 69, am I glad very definitely YES.
I had never mixed with cathokics my whole life, all 15 years. I started work in the city centre Donegall Place to be precise, I was given the job, by a Mrs Ferguson whose husband was at the bar, Dick Ferguson QC. She gave me the position because I came on my own, knocking the door and could look her straight in the eye. No mammy or Daddy to hold my hand. It was here I met Bernadette, and we became the best of friends right up to today.
Two things happened that I knew nothing about.
My aunt Greta, saying the IRA would come over the Boyne Bridge and kill us all! Who were this IRA. I had never heard of them.
The second was Bernadette could not get to work on time, for the baracades.
Then come November I am travelling up the Falls Rd, back and forward to work with a lot of people crossing themselves on the bus every time it passed a chapel.
I remember thinking Bernadette was lucky being a catholic, because she was excused for being late.
Up to that point of time in my life, I never knew I came from, as you all like to tell, a superior race.
I did not even know when I was young walking up to the Falls Rd on a Sunday, when everything was locked, to the City Cemetary that there was a them and us.
I thought everybody had a King Billy painted on the street corner.
It did not matter to me, but the Beatles getting to number one, or the Jackson Five was all I cared about.
Aiden Gillan is a fine actor, but I have had to put it on hold now, so I will finish watching it tomorrow.
I have got one Irish redeeming factor, I was born with the gift of the gab.
Charlie’s parents came from Swatragh where charvet shirts and onyx cufflinks are much to the fore to this day ,especially in the village’s hinterland of Slaughtneil !
I knew that…
Good enough first episode of Charlie, although you would have to be fairly au fait with the era and the players to be able to really follow it. There seemed to be a fair bit of product placement for the Indo, speaking of which – today’s article by Gene Kerrigan might be of interest to some denizens of this parish
http://www.independent.ie/opinion/columnists/gene-kerrigan/the-politics-that-dare-not-speak-its-name-30880164.html
He was a lovable rogue and sometimes thats what you need in politics and anyway I liked him. Am looking forward to the series which i shall tape and then watch
Roll on next Sunday night RTE. I loved the part were he said Prime Minister Thatcher was a “blowtorch” .
I was quiet surprised that they used rebels songs to get them all agitated, but like the bands up here really.
Do you see time bed calling.
It might be that Haughey felt the only reaction to attack is defence. And before you condemn this response, ask yourself: how would I have reacted if I’d been burned out of my home and forced to flee for my life?
An interesting question indeed could I pose an additional question if after a major massacre like the Shankill or the Nationalist equilivant how would have you reacted?
Fair question, Neill. The truth is I don’t know. Cowardice might have prevented me seeking vengeance, or maybe my rage would have been such I’d have sought it. So I wouldn’t point the finger at any victim who chose to fight back. I suppose the ultimate test of character is passed by those who have been hurt and who find a way of moving on rather than engaging in mindless violence.
That’s a fair response Jude.
As for CJH he was crook who lied cheated and stole and yet proved to be on his level successful which in itself tells you something!
The first programme was interesting. Nice to see Frances Tomelty playing Charlies dear old mom. RTE drama has produced some great output in recent times.Long may it continue.