The first of the "ordinary" people, confident that "Charlie" valued them above any "invited hypocrites" began to queue before 8am.
Around 10am, the stout cumann men began to arrive from far-flung towns and villages, travelling since dawn, perspiring in their respectful suits. By 11am, there were probably around 500 on the incline leading up to the church side-door, watching events unfold on a big screen beside them, as the dignitaries and politicians arrived around the front.
Frank Dunlop, former government press secretary, old friend and adviser to Charlie, queued among the ordinary folk, watching as a trail of property developers and politicians, familiar from Dublin Castle tribunals, headed towards the front door reserved for those deemed to be among the State's great and good.
Dunlop, the man best known now as tribunal whistle-blower, stood with his wife, Sheila, recalling the many decent deeds of Charlie Haughey, at such times as when they lost a baby, and then their 16-year-old son. Was Frank feeling the heat, surrounded as he was by grass roots Fianna Fáilers? "Ah, only from the type I'd loosely call the backwoodsmen. They all kiss and make up eventually," he asserted.
On cue, up popped Ray Burke on screen, being hugged by old colleagues inside the church. "That's what I mean," he shrugged. "You need a healthy mix of cynicism, sarcasm, a happy outlook on life and to look after yourself. That's what everybody does."
But today, they were here for Charlie. "He was a man where there was no grey; it was black or white", said Dunlop. "That's how he was himself and that's how people approached him. Complete adulation and complete venom."
But in this crowd there was no venom. Charlie's "private life" was his own, was the message, and he never put a foot wrong politically.
Willie Murphy, vice-chairman of Portarlington South cumann, listed the Haughey achievements: "He kept Thatcher at bay and laid the foundations for the great economic boom".
As for the extravagance, well, said Willie, he had been brought to see the spectacle and ceremonial around Buckingham Palace recently.
"And who's paying for that? If the best brain in Ireland is not entitled to something as a reward, well, I don't know"
Jason Lucas, whose mother, Nancy, died in a hospital A&E department last year, said he was sure that if "Charlie Haughey had not been on his death bed, my mother would not have been either He would have pulled them together".
Vincent Feeney from Athenry said he had seen Charlie in the US. "He was the first statesman I was ever proud of" Marie Reilly from Artane was there because Charlie had "brought in legislation that was pro-life I never forgot that".
There was no sign of the heaving multitudes expected by the garda, no need for camping space. Thirty minutes into the ceremonies, it was still possible to get standing room inside the church. The community centre alongside, with big screen and seating for over 450, was eventually availed of by around 100 people. Another few hundred chose to remain outside, in the sunshine, watching the screens there.
Eyes were dabbed when Seán Haughey spoke of Charlie Haughey as a father: "He always saw the good in his children, never the bad "
They smiled mistily at Brendan Kennelly's rendition of The Dawning of the Day and mouthed the words, perhaps recalling a time when Charlie Haughey was young and so were they. And they revelled in Fr Eoin's poem about Donnycarney; proper order was restored as Charlie and Donnycarney assumed their rightful place amid the pomp and circumstance imposed by the outsiders.
By day's end, they got their chance to deal with the interlopers. As the fat, shiny fleets of Ministerial limousines left the church for the cemetery, they were stalled in a tailback - sitting ducks for a gauntlet of cheerful north Dubliners lining the sunlit streets.
Applause and scorn were heaped on the occupants, the braver of whom lowered their windows to grin back. For the record, Michael McDowell got the loudest cheer (who knew?).
"Mary Harney always manages to escape", sighed a nurse, who sought her in vain. But the general mood was of a job well done. One of their own had been sent off in style.