The Race for the Áras (22 page)

Hours later Dana confirmed that she was going to stand, on a platform of ‘love and respect'. At a hurried press conference in Dublin she brushed aside questions about why she had left it so late to confirm her candidacy and refused to name the Oireachtas members who had promised her support.

Despite instant name recognition and weeks of speculation about her entry to the race, Dana had otherwise faded from the public view. She had shot to fame as a teenager when she won the Eurovision Song Contest in 1970 with the song ‘All Kinds of Everything'. Twenty-seven years later she returned from the United States, where she had a successful television career, to contest the Presidency in 1997. She was nominated by four county councils and was to win more than 175,000 first-preference votes, or 14 per cent, coming third behind Mary McAleese and Mary Banotti and ahead of the Labour Party's nominee, Adi Roche.

Dana expressed an interest in contesting for the Park again seven years later but couldn't get a nomination, and McAleese was returned without a ballot. In the 1999 election for the European Parliament, Dana was elected member for Ireland West. In 2002 she contested a Dáil seat in Éamon Ó Cuív's constituency of Galway West but was not elected. She lost her European Parliament seat in the 2004 election.

A strong campaigner against abortion, she remained suspicious of the
EU
project and campaigned against the Nice Treaty.

 

The following day's ‘Liveline' achieved one of its highest phone-in polls, with 22,008 texts recorded within a ten-minute period, with no advance notice given, the intention being to eliminate the possibility that anyone could stuff the vote. Martin McGuinness topped the poll, with 28 per cent, one point ahead of Norris, at 27 per cent. Mitchell came in third, with 12 per cent, Davis at 10½ per cent, Higgins at 10 per cent, Dana at 6½ per cent and Gallagher at 6 per cent.

The poll was dismissed by Mitchell, who said Sinn Féin had rigged the result with ‘an automatic dialling machine somewhere.' Embarrassingly, however, a couple of days later it emerged that Fine Gael head office—where Mitchell himself had his election office—had sent out a text message half an hour before the programme alerting supporters to the topic of the programme, followed by another telling them about the opinion poll, and a third advising them how to vote. A party spokesperson said that the messages seeking support had been only sent to
TD
s,
MEP
s, constituency offices and 121 members on a mailing list.

Labhrás Ó Murchú was not included in the opinion poll. The previous day he had told Pat Kenny that he was on course to win a nomination if the whip was removed from Fianna Fáil Oireachtas members, and that if elected he would not take any salary. ‘I would work for nothing. I would be honoured to serve … I don't necessarily need the money; I lead a relatively frugal life.'

But on Tuesday he issued a statement before that day's crunch meeting of the parliamentary party.

He had met Micheál Martin in Leinster House the previous afternoon for more than an hour.

Éamon Ó Cuív, who had been interviewed in July by
TV
3 for a three-part series, ‘The Rise and Fall of Fianna Fáil', clarified his statements on the programme, dismissing rumours of a potential split. Asked if Fianna Fáil was a seriously damaged brand, he replied: ‘You know, the thought does enter my mind: are we going to be forever damaged by the actions of a few? If that were so, maybe we have to look at a new way forward for the very, very same ideals.'

Ó Cuív claimed subsequently that his remarks were taken out of context in reports that suggested he was about to establish a new political party. ‘What I said was, we're going to be damned if we keep being seen as being associated with bankers and builders—which none of us were associated with anyway.'

The Fianna Fáil party meeting went ahead and agreed not to allow the party's thirty-three
TD
s and senators to back any candidate—further hampering the chances of support for a nomination for Dana or Norris.

Sinn Féin had taken the initiative. Its back-room team knew Martin McGuinness would be quizzed about his
IRA
membership and his past. They also knew he had gone through this process before—but in the North. In the South there hadn't been the same open examination of change and discussion; they felt that it was needed and that this was the opportunity to move Sinn Féin into a mainstream position, reflecting the role it now played in government in Northern Ireland.

Strategically, one senior member explained later that

He went on to explain the crucial point for McGuinness and Sinn Féin, and why they had launched in Derry. ‘Martin wasn't going to Dublin, he was bringing his people to Dublin …'

This was the nightmare that some people in Fianna Fáil feared. They had effectually left the field open for Sinn Féin, leaving their traditional republican vote up for grabs and, by not contesting, making themselves irrelevant to political debate and perhaps the political process. Within their own ranks, critics would say they had ceded their role as leaders of the opposition. It was a debate that would rage within the party.

Chapter
11
   
THE ENCLOSURE

T
he blue-and-gold cloaks of the Tipperary Gospel Choir from Cashel swayed and danced in the lobby of the Royal Hibernian Academy. The choir was belting out songs as guests and the media arrived at the art gallery in Ely Place, Dublin, off St Stephen's Green, for the launch of Seán Gallagher's presidential campaign.

It was a fresh Sunday afternoon, 2 October. In the airy gallery space a small stage with a public address system faced more than a hundred seats arranged in a semi-circle for the formal launch, with a side room prepared for a press conference.

Children played and ran around the building while at the entrance three serious-looking pre-teens were pressing Gallagher stickers on everyone who arrived. The atmosphere was jolly and friendly, and everyone seemed to know each other, like an intimate village fete. This was not the sterile or impersonal managed-to-the-second event organised by large political parties, with important and self-important party members demanding a protocol of recognition. But its informality masked its earnestness.

Running fifteen minutes late, Gallagher and his wife gathered themselves around the corner from the
RHA
. Gallagher wore a dark suit, white shirt and bright red-and-white striped tie. They turned the corner and walked hand in hand past Labour Party head office, two doors from the
RHA
, into a battery of photographers and swung into the art gallery, smiling all the way.

Eventually they made their way into the room set up for the launch, having chatted and shaken hands with most of the supporters who had turned up. Even though it was a media event they seemed relaxed and not in a hurry to deliver on time.

Gallagher's Smarthomes business partner Derek Roddy introduced him. He recalled that they would often be driving home from a meeting and that Gallagher would always ring his mammy to see that she was all right. He endorsed Gallagher. ‘He has a driving ambition. He's someone who focuses on achieving what he can do, not what he can't do. I believe he can make a difference.'

Gallagher then took the stage. His speech was to be repeated over the coming weeks: he spoke of his own experiences, overcoming the disability of being born with cataracts, being unemployed, and reinventing himself by harnessing his entrepreneurial spirit.

At the end of his speech he called his second wife, of thirteen months, onto the stage, where they posed for the photographers. ‘I couldn't do this without great encouragement and support from Trish,' said a beaming Gallagher to more loud applause.

There were more handshakes and chats before Gallagher made his way to a smaller room. A brief, not very attentive press conference was summed up by two of the questions put to him. He was asked by Senan Molony of the
Daily Mail
: ‘Polls are showing that this race is virtually over—so why do you continue?'

‘The people haven't even voted yet, people are only beginning to hear about the candidate,' he responded.

The representative of the
Examiner
suggested that his campaign was ‘one-dimensional, focusing on trade and enterprise.'

On radio earlier that day Mary Davis had refused four times to say how much money she had received by serving on corporate and state boards over the previous decade. The media put out an estimate of €190,000 for state boards, which increased to ‘at least €350,000' when commercial and state-sponsored companies were included.

Gallagher was asked to comment:

He went no further, however, maintaining his campaign creed in being positive and not straying into personal attacks. Asked about David Norris, and whether Norris should release the letters he had written, Gallagher responded:

He didn't answer a throwaway question about who he'd like to give his second-preference vote to. To those who dismissed his low standing in opinion polls he said, ‘This campaign is just beginning.'

There was no incisive questioning. The opinion poll showed Gallagher with little or no hope: he was at best a novelty candidate, with a few messages of positivity and a business background. Worthy perhaps but boring was the media consensus. It was difficult for him to gain traction in the media, and this, according to his advisers, was fatal: they believed independent voters would flock to one candidate with their transfers, and to be in the contest he had to be ahead of the other independent candidates.

Gallagher's media adviser, Richard Moore, cautioned him that the ‘flare' analogy was one he should drop. It just didn't work, and would be interpreted in the occasional radio chat shows in the following days as a distress signal, with all its negative ‘rescue me' associations. Gallagher referred to it once again in a speech, and then extinguished it. He would also joke about the ‘cautions' he received from his media team—specifically chopping the air during a visit to a karate class.

The following morning's print media reflected their indifference to his candidacy.

 

Mary Davis was Gallagher's biggest threat and was polling well. She had a quasi-national network with friends and contacts made over the years through the Special Olympics network.

On the previous Sunday, Shane Ross
TD
in his
Sunday Independent
column had dubbed Davis a ‘quango queen'. He had been searching candidates'
CV
s for a leader-in-waiting who might blaze a trail for Irish enterprise, but he found them all wanting. He zeroed in on Davis, who, he said, showed signs of promise. He listed her membership of the
UCD
Foundation, the Irish Sports Council, the Broadcasting Commission of Ireland and the Task Force on Active Citizenship and asked why she had chosen ‘to omit a few rather more rewarding business achievements.' These included appointment to the board of the Irish Civil Service Building Society, a subsidiary of Bank of Ireland, whose directors were paid an annual fee of €25,000. ‘As a presidential candidate—with banking experience—she could offer priceless insights into the property collapse, the current mortgage crisis and the behaviour of the Directors of the Bank of Ireland,' he wrote. She had also omitted her membership of the board of Dublin Airport Authority and of Stadium Ireland, more commonly known as the Bertie Bowl.

This article, linking well-paid directorships to an apparent inside track to the Government, and the snappy ‘quango queen' put-down, holed the Davis campaign below the waterline.

A week later, with increasing calls for candidates to divulge business connections and board memberships and payment, both Davis and Gallagher bowed to media pressure and released details of their earnings. Over her adult life Davis said that she had worked with eighteen organisations in a voluntary capacity, and that since 2000 she had been appointed to three state boards and three private-sector boards, earning a total of €390,633. This included €58,861 from the National Sport Campus Development Authority, €86,693 from Dublin Airport Authority, €35,529 from the Broadcasting Commission of Ireland, €133,641 from
ICS
Building Society, €18,750 in one year (2010) from Bank of Ireland Mortgage Bank and €55,158 from the Irish Times Trust over a five-year period to 2011.

Days earlier the
Examiner
had polled the
CEO
s of the country's twenty-three largest charities, asking for details of their salaries, expenses, bonuses and perks, and it published the details on 26 September. The Special Olympics was one of the six charities that refused to divulge details. Of those that did provide details, Enable Ireland emerged as the top payer, offering their
CEO
a salary of €156,000 a year, but it also noted that the
CEO
had forgone a bonus payment.

Davis now revealed that she earned a salary of more than €159,000 a year as
CEO
of Special Olympics. No other details of the package were made available.

Gallagher gave details of his board memberships a couple of hours later. He earned €30,150 from Intertrade Ireland and also earned €11,000 from
FÁS
. And he trumped Davis's call to reveal details of payments funded by taxpayers, saying he had donated his
FÁS
fees to charity, including Down Syndrome Ireland and the Irish Cancer Society.

Martin McGuinness also requested his bank manager to provide details of his bank account, and his campaign team briefed the media that the bank statements would show that the candidate took only the average industrial wage, as he had asserted in debates.

As the North's Deputy First Minister he was entitled to an annual income of £112,000 (€131,000). His press officer, Seán Mac Brádaigh, said that the statement was expected to show that McGuinness received £1,605 (€1,874) a month and that the rest of the money went into the party's coffers.

 

Enda Kenny was running late for the Fine Gael presidential launch in the Science Gallery on Dublin's Pearse Street, as he was delayed after opening a primary care centre in Ballina in his home county. ‘The traffic was terrible,' he explained to reporters afterwards, who wondered whether this tardiness showed a lack of enthusiasm for his candidate.

An enthusiastic group of Young Fine Gaelers, decked out in bright-yellow
T
-shirts with the slogan
Mitchell for President
and carrying giant posters, greeted the Taoiseach as he arrived. They had to jostle with enthusiastic backbenchers as photographers insisted that the candidate and his wife squash together for a photograph with the Taoiseach, and then all were ushered upstairs for the formal launch.

Kenny mingled easily, shaking hands with Government ministers Alan Shatter, Phil Hogan, James Reilly, Simon Coveney, Richard Bruton and Bruton's brother, the former
EU
ambassador and Taoiseach, John. Also mingling was Pat Cox, the defeated candidate for the Fine Gael nomination. His rival Mairead McGuinness was not present.

Backbenchers, including Olivia Mitchell, Catherine Byrne (Mitchell's successor in his constituency of Dublin South-Central), Bernard Durkan, Mary Mitchell O'Connor and Senator Paul Coghlan, swelled the crowd.