Analysis: controversies that damaged political reputations began in such venues as a Co Westmeath distillery and a swanky Florida hotel
There is an Irish preoccupation - maybe even obsession - with a 'sense of place'. Often presenting as a combination of the geographic and the cultural, this nexus between ‘place’ and ‘person’ has long been a source of fascination for bards, poets, story-tellers and, in recent years, academics.
Irish Studies scholars will know of the corpus of medieval poetry and prose constituting the Dinshenchas. This lore of places is indicative of the long-standing connections between contemporary peoples and specific areas. Such elements would continue within Irish literature, be they in the poetry of Seamus Heaney, the prose of John McGahern or the verbal dexterities of public raconteurs such as the late Niall Tobin.
It's of little surprise then that the importance of 'place' also permeates Irish political history and current political activism. Major events, treaties or accords are often denoted by the place of their signing or pronouncement: the Tallaght Strategy, the Hillsborough (Anglo-Irish) Agreement, and the Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement, to name but a few. Additionally, Bodenstown, Arbour Hill and Béal na Bláth are annual pilgrimage sites for various political parties and groupings. For attendees and supporters, the respective venue is synonymous with their own ideology, sense of patria, and chosen heroes.
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From RTÉ Archives, Jim Fahy reports for RTÉ News in 2005 on the Fianna Fáil tent at the Galway Races, which then Taoiseach Bertie Ahern says "we run to make a few quid"
Amongst the general public, associations of this nature are often of limited relevance. A few, such as the maligned ‘Galway Tent’, are universally viewed as negative. However, for students of Irish political history, there are numerous venues or buildings that immediately call to mind intrigues, scandals or controversies that damaged leaders, defeated governments, or tarnished political reputations. Here are four which spring to mind.
Locke’s Distillery in Kilbeggan
Nestled in the quaint midlands town of the same name, the Kilbeggan Distillery is famed for its fine whiskey. As the world’s oldest known distillery, the building is still colloquially referred to as "Locke’s", after the family that owned the premises from the 1840s to the 1960s.
Many will not know that it was the subject of one of the State’s earliest political tribunals. A wartime dip in international whiskey sales prompted the owners to place the ailing distillery on the market in 1947. An offer was quickly made by a Swiss consortium.
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From RTÉ Archives, Gerry Reynolds reports for RTÉ News on the reopening of the old Lockes Distillery in Kilbeggan, Co Westmeath in 1989
However, all was not as it seemed. The ‘consortium’ was in fact a group of international swindlers, intent on acquiring Locke’s substantial whiskey reserves (built up during the Second World War), and selling them on the British black market for a quick profit.
Unfortunately for the Government of the day, the unearthing of the scheme was soon accompanied by unfounded allegations of ministers’ complicity in corrupt practices. These included the improper use of public monies and the presentation of a Swiss gold watch to the Taoiseach’s son, as a form of indirect bribe. Opposition pressure in the Dáil compelled Éamon de Valera to establish a Tribunal of Inquiry.
Ultimately, all accused political figures were exonerated, but the public imagination was stimulated by testimonies before the Tribunal. It is arguable the (unfair) suspicions which clung to that Fianna Fáil government contributed to its fall from power in the 1948 General Election. Moreover, the fact that a naïve interlocuter (and a relative of President Seán T. Ó Ceallaigh) had brought the ‘consortium’ to a reception in Áras an Uachtaráin almost drew the presidency itself into the quagmire.
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Columb Barracks in Mullingar
In 1976, another midlands’ building was the location for a controversy that also impacted a presidency. Built as Wellington Barracks in the early 1800s, the military installation was renamed Columb Barracks in 1922 in memory of pro-Treaty IRA/National Army soldier, Patrick Columb. In the post-Civil War period the barracks’ importance declined. However, it saw a resurgence during the Emergency, a role later cemented by the expansion of the Irish Army in response to the Northern Irish conflict.
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From RTÉ Radio 1's This Week in 2006, Journalist Don Lavery recalls the 'thundering disgrace' controversy 30 years on
It was in the context of increased terrorist activity, that a Minister for Defence, Paddy Donegan, made a serious faux pas. During a visit to Columb Barracks in October 1976, he appeared to imply that the President, Cearbhall Ó Dálaigh, did not support efforts to curb paramilitarism. Moreover, he described Ó Dálaigh as a ‘thundering disgrace’ for not immediately signing a new Emergency Powers Bill into law, but instead referring it to the Supreme Court to test its constitutionality. On the night the President finally agreed to sign the Bill, the Provisional IRA murdered a Garda in retaliation, an atrocity that greatly affected Donegan.
When news of the comments broke, most expected Donegan’s resignation - including Donegan himself, who promptly tendered it. The Taoiseach, Liam Cosgrave, thought differently. A strong ‘law and order’ man, Cosgrave had greater empathy for a loyal minister disturbed by a Garda’s murder, than for a President who Cosgrave felt had indirectly provided succour to subversives. Ultimately, Donegan remained in government, and Ó Dálaigh (who had contemplated stepping down even before the scandal) resigned to ‘protect the dignity’ of the Presidency.
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From RTÉ Archives, Ronnie Turner reports for RTÉ News on the resignation of President Cearbhall Ó Dálaigh in October 1976
Le Coq Hardi in Dublin
For close to three decades, Ireland’s first celebrity chef, John Howard, brought a touch of culinary class to an otherwise conservative gastronomic scene in late 20th century Dublin. His restaurant, Le Coq Hardi, on Prembroke Road, became a famous haunt for the capital’s elite, as well as for the politically powerful and well-connected. Often the venue of choice for government ministers, great food was consumed, whilst important state business was debated and the bases for agreements established.
More than any other, however, it became synonymous with its most loyal and infamous patron, Charles Haughey. During his period as leader of Fianna Fáil and spells as Taoiseach, Haughey embraced the ‘dining for Ireland’ role a little too enthusiastically. When details of his avarice were exposed by subsequent tribunals, it emerged that in one year alone he spent £15,000 of taxpayers’ money in the restaurant. He also ordered civil servants to bring in the restaurant's chef to cater for EU leaders in 1990, after deeming a a meal served up at an earlier summit to be "only of good pub grub standard".
An entertaining biography of the business tells of one Government meal at the venue. After taking the Taoiseach’s order of beef, the waiter inquired 'and the vegetables, sir?’ Haughey surveyed his ministers, then turned and responded ‘they’ll have the same’. The apocryphal nature of this story is confirmed by the enactment of an identical scene involving Margaret Thatcher and her Cabinet on BBC’s Spitting Image. Perhaps the Iron Lady and the Boss were viewed rather similarly by satirists of their time.
Grand Cypress Hotel in Orlando, Florida
Continuing the Haughey theme, the final destination on our whistle-stop tour is 4,000 miles from Ireland in Orlando, Florida. Built in 1984, the Grand Cypress Hotel was Orlando’s first five star resort, and has since remained one of the jewels in the city’s tourism crown. Over the years, its clientele has included Hollywood red carpet regulars, sports stars, prominent political figures and corporate tycoons.
In February 1992, one of the hotel's guests was Ben Dunne, then one of Ireland’s most successful business magnates, and chairman of the Dunnes Stores company. A bizarre drug-induced episode, featuring large quantities of cocaine and a female escort also sharing his $1,320-a-night suite, resulted in Dunne's arrest. The story scandalised the wider Dunne clan, prompted his removal as chairman of the company and sparked lengthy legal battles relating to the business.
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From RTÉ Radio 1's Sundays With Miriam, Ben Dunne talks to Miriam O'Callaghan about his colourful life, including those infamous events in Florida
This family squabble later sparked political upheavals. Investigations revealed Dunne had made significant (and undisclosed) donations to Charles Haughey. In one instance, Dunne handed ‘the Boss’ bank drafts amounting to £210,000, for which Haughey gratefully remarked: ‘Thanks, big fella’.
When the report leaked some years later, it led to Tribunals of Inquiry. These determined that the former Taoiseach had received at least £9 million in personal ‘donations’ from wealthy figures between 1979 and 1992; much of which was held by an offshore bank to avoid tax. The public unveiling of his avarice led to the final evisceration of Haughey’s already contested political legacy.
When Haughey resigned in February 1992, the murky nature of his finances remained opaque. He had largely kept the details of his greed secret, despite years under the media spotlight as Taoiseach. Just eight days later, the Grand Cypress Hotel witnessed events that set in train the destruction of Haughey's public image.
The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
