GARRET WAS probably already ensconced in some celestial television studio, graphs and biros scattered across his cloud. In his element: extrapolating.
“Well, condoling has been extremely brisk so far. If these early figures are borne out, we could be looking at a record turnout.
“There also seems to be a swing from the south. For example, I’ve noted a dozen people from Kerry through the doors and it’s not yet 11 o’clock.”
“An interesting factor will be the Heineken Cup final. We may need a downward adjustment in late afternoon. But if one looks at the data I’ve compiled from previous State funerals, I think you’ll see . . .”
We could have done with Garret FitzGerald on Saturday as reporters and officials scratched their heads and tried to come up with the number of people who paid their last respects to him.
Twenty thousand was the figure agreed upon in the end. As good a guess as any.
But it is a scientific fact that the crowds belted through all day without a break and the people of Ireland made sure that their former taoiseach wasn’t left on his own for a minute before his final journey to the church.
The Mansion House, where the first sitting of Dáil Éireann took place, provided a fitting place of repose. The Lord Mayor of Dublin Gerry Breen had to open the Oak Room an hour early because he was concerned the gathering throng might spill onto the road.
Dr FitzGerald’s open coffin was placed in the centre of the wood-panelled room, which is lined with the heraldic plaques of the city’s mayors since Daniel O’Connell in 1841.
The last politician to lie in State in the Mansion House was Kevin O’Higgins in 1927.
Under the portrait of Parnell at the head of the room, a framed photograph of Garret stood on a table between two lighted candles. A single yellow rose lay beside it, placed there by a member of the public who picked it from her garden that morning.
The line moved efficiently, slow but steady, to the rhythmic sound of footsteps on old oak. People of all ages filed past the remains, many brought their children and many brought a parent – for older people are in the majority. They look thoughtfully at Garret, in his dark business suit and pink silk tie, and bless themselves.
“Wasn’t he very peaceful looking?” they say. “Didn’t he look lovely?” “Aah, he did.”
Up to 14 books of condolence were on the go. They filled up fast.
Dubliner John Swords from Raheny brought his 91-year-old mother Honor, who lives in Marino. “I liked him because he was an honest man,” said Mrs Swords.
Joan Burton was the first of many Ministers to pay their respects. “The last time I met him was at the height of the bank crisis. We were on a radio panel and went for tea afterwards. I got him a scone, forgetting he hated currants. As we talked, he seemed more interested in dissecting the bun than discussing the banks.
“Then he informed me there were 17 currants in the scone. He found this fascinating. I was tremendously fond of Garret.”
Everyone had something good to say about Garret. While a radio reporter was doing an interview, a little queue formed beside him.
When he finished, the woman in front looked at the microphone and declared: “I’d like to say something now, please”. A large number of journalists came to sign the book. Garret was good to them.
Sr Maureen Thornton and Sr Paulinus O'Connor from the Loreto Order in Balbriggan remembered him. Sr Maureen worked for the Clonmel Nationalistbefore she entered religious life and she remembers sitting in on an interview between the editor, the late Brendan Long, and the then taoiseach.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as impressed as much by anyone as I was by Dr FitzGerald. He was a great Irishman, a great politician and a credit to our country.”
Sr Paulinus said that when Loreto on the Green burned down in 1986, claiming the lives of six nuns, Garret was one of the first to come and sympathise.
Newly appointed Senator Mary Moran from Dundalk was with her daughters, Deirbhile (14) and Sadhbh (17). “He was a great statesmen and a great politician and I wanted the girls to share in this moment of history.”
Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams slipped into the queue during the afternoon. “I didn’t know Garret FitzGerald very well, but I know he was a man who was very genuine in his beliefs.” As he spoke, a man approached to shake his hand. “I’m a Fine Gaeler. Thank you for being here.”
Robert Cosgrave came up from Claremorris in Mayo. “There were many people on the train going to the Mansion House. I wanted to pay tribute to Garret for his integrity, for being a great statesman and for his brilliant mind. All he did wasn’t for himself, it was for the country.”
Elizabeth Cramer from Ranelagh and Betty Doherty from Tallaght met coming in on the 46A bus. “I’ve always admired Garret, he was a true patriot,” said Betty. “He was brilliant, but he wouldn’t know what socks he was wearing,” laughed Elizabeth.
Michael Noonan dropped in to sign the book. On Garret’s death happening during the historic visit of Queen Elizabeth he remarked: “It’s a funny sort of ironic coincidence. He was my party leader when I was a young fella and in later years we became good friends. He’d ring me up every three days, er, looking for advice,” chuckled the Minister for Finance.
And still they came. Former taoisigh, former Fianna Fáil ministers, Labour party members, political opponents, political friends. The Taoiseach came just after 7pm, after the doors closed to the public.
Following a short family ceremony, the pall-bearers made their way down the steps and were met with applause from the large crowd waiting on Dawson Street.
Three generations of the FitzGerald family followed the coffin to the hearse before it made the short journey to Donnybrook.
And above in the celestial TV studio, Garret pored happily over the figures for this, the final turnout.
