The national gradh – or weakness – for politics cannot be denied. There we were, hundreds of us, pressed into doorways, tucked away behind corners, hunched in the lee of parked cars as the wind tore and the rain lashed. It was Cashel, County Tipperary, it was Saturday night, May 7th, 1966, it was winter. We were waiting to hear Tom O'Higgins, Presidential candidate on behalf of Fine Gael.
There was a squeal from the end of the town, barely audible over the whistling of the wind, but you knew it was music, and then the motorcade inched along; a blue Austin, a larger light-coloured station wagon, a small green van, all surmounted by placards bearing the O'Higgins tricolour posters; then the band – and there's something about a band (was that tigerskin figure not one of the formidable early memories of anyone brought up in a country town?); the band plays "God Save Ireland, " the motorcade distributes itself around the magnificent street; the candidate, his wife and the platform party get up on the waggon behind the blue tractor and under the umbrellas, and we are off.
It’s so wet and so cold, and the candidate has to be off to Tipperary to speak again, that we’re warned the business will be short.
One name apparently is not to be mentioned from Fine Gael platforms during this election – absit omen. Thus we were told from the rostrum that Mr. O'Higgins was not a man for empty formulas, nor a man for shibboleths, nor a man for greed – i.e., impliedly, he'll hardly be standing for a second term if he gets in this year.
Mr. O’Higgins has a good, bold delivery, well suited to be heard over the elements and from under the cover of umbrellas and through ears running with water. He and his wife are young, he is saying; he’s for youth; he’s not surprised that Fianna Fail object to his standing. He’s here to be seen and heard and judged. He’s not a captive of the past.
The Rock of Cashel stands up behind us. Old men dream dreams, he tells us, we the young have the vision.
People bend their necks to keep the rivulets from going down both sides.
The band was to conclude by playing "God Save Ireland," composed by the candidate's ancestor, A.M. Sullivan. It plays "God Save Ireland," gives us a bit of "Let Erin Remember" for good measure, and then there's the National Anthem.
It was after nine o’clock and darkling; the motorcade had to be off to the next meeting. As it crawls into Tipperary town, a mighty long line of red lights showing in front of us, the weather gets even worse. This time the platform party is up behind a big red lorry; the street is narrower, the rain and wind hurl themselves at the huddle of umbrellas.
This has more in it of a scene from Mother Courage than the modern image conjured up by the official designation of the campaign as a whistle-stop tour.
Mr. O’Higgins, suitably introduced, belted away into the wind, rain and darkness in fine style, as before . . . see me, hear me, judge me.
“You’re a young man,” comes a voice – very much a late Saturday night voice – “you’re a young man, you’re a young man, you’re a young man . . . Y’are” . . . and a cheer and a laugh.
It is wetter than ever, but Tom O'Higgins bounces his voice off the grey walls that face him – the National Bank and the Munster and Leinster Bank.
Gay Byrne is on now with the Late Late Show but we're with O'Higgins on the kind of Ireland we want, old men dreaming dreams, "as the poet Yeats said", and young men, etc.
Councillor Michael Fitzgerald asks "Who's Tom O'Higgins?" (that voice from the crowd – "He's a young man, he's a young man, he's a young man . . . he is"). Anyway, says the Councillor, he's the great-grandson of A.M. Sullivan and the band is going to play God Save Ireland.
They give us God Save Ireland indeed and the same bonus of Let Erin Remember – and why not – just before the national anthem.
Amazingly the rain stops. When last seen the candidate was signing autographs. He’s a young man, a young man, a young man . . . he is.
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Selected by Joe Joyce; email fromthearchives@irishtimes.com
