"Clap This Way!"

Donncha 0 Dulaing was in his element. The centre of attention, thousands cheering. The leader hearing his every word.

"Every year at Siamsa Cois Laoi I do something out of the ordinary! Two years ago I had the distinction of being called a republican by the Irish Times! Well, since this is a republic I suppose we must all be republicans!"

The crowd roared. "And now I'm going to do my something out of the ordinary, and I may never be forgiven for it. Taoiseach! Will ya come up here on stage and sing a song with The Dubliners? Wilya, Taoiseach? "

The media event began at ten minutes to noon that morning. Charlie Haughey had arrived in the ballroom of the Metropole Hotel, having driven from Dublin when his plan to fly down was foiled by fog. The change of plan meant that he missed a scheduled Mass at the Augustinian Church. Now the crowd of four hundred Cork Fianna Failers were cheering, applauding, Charlie was shaking hands, the party dignitaries were moving to the two rows of seats on the platform. Michael O'Kennedy was there, and Gene FitzGerald. Flor Crowley and Padraig Flynn. Tom Meany and Seamus Brennan. Sean French and Jer Cronin. All had trooped along to the Metropole after the Mass". Jack Lynch had gone home.

Before launching into his scripted speech, Charlie had to prime the Cork pump. Leaning toward the microphone he shouted through the cheering, "Up Cork!" The cheers increased.

"They can say what they like - but y'can't bate Cork paypeI." More cheering. "I always avail of the opportunity of a visit to Cork to pay tribute to my predecessor, Jack Lynch. You loved him - and rightly so. And we all loved him ".

When the ritual foreplay was over it was on to the scripted speech. Garret FitzGerald had put the boot in, again and again. If Charlie condemned the American supporters of the Provos why didn't he name them?

"Recent statements by leaders of the Opposition Parties", said Charlie "indicate that they seem to have been able to persuade themselves that there is some element of doubt or ambiguity about our policy and in particular with reference to its application in the United States." His only reason for hesitancy in naming NORAID, he claimed, was a reluctance to provide "these peripheral organisations with the sort of free publicity on which they thrive."

Several days earlier, Charlie's Minister for Foreign Affairs, Brian Lenihan, had stated that whethe government condemnations of violence included condemnation of NORAID was, "open to interpretation". "There is clear and conclusive evidence available to the Government here from security and other sources that NORAID has provided support for the campaign of violence", said Charlie. "I don't know anything about the organisational set-up in the United States", said Brian a few days earlier. Charlie resolved this apparent communications gap by unambiguously putting NO RAID and the Irish National Caucus beyond his pale. Any suspicion that he was trying to ride two horses at the same time could now be dismissed.

As the speeches ended the crowd surged forward, elbows digging, shoulders pushing. As Charlie moved through the crowd, shaking hands, posing for magicubed snapshots, expectant smiles trembled on the faces of those in his path. If he changed direction the smiles vanished and were replaced by looks of panic. So near and yet so far. A handshake, or even a kiss, from the leader and the recipient walked away, smile blooming, upper teeth biting lower lip, the politics of the occasion subsumed to the thrill of touching power.

Though taking place several hours apart, Charlie's speech and his visit to the third annual Siamsa eois l.aoi. at Pairc Vi Chaoimh. would be inextricably linked in the reporting of the events of the day. The Irish Press next morning ran a headline "Haughey Hits at US Groups", over a picture of Charlie and Joan Baez, smiling. The Taoiseach's arrival at Pairc Ui Chaoimh was announced from the stage by Donncha 0 Dulaing. The stand echoed with applause.

Out on the field, many of the younger people turned from the stage to look with curiosity at their leader. Charlie arrived at 3 pm, just as the Dubliners were due to perform. 0 Dulaing's warm-up interwove the music and the politics of the occasion. Calling for a round of applause for Luke Kelly, recovering from a serious illness, he added a call for a round of applause for the late Tom Barry. "Tom Barry and people like him gave us the Ireland we love - the thirty-two county Ireland!" As the applause erupted, Charlie's hands stayed clenched in his lap.

When the Dubliners came back for an encore, Donncha 0 Dulaing took the microphone and did his "something out of the ordinary", with a dead-pan, off-the-cuff, ad-libbed air of spontaniety. "Taoiseach! Will ya come up here on stage and ... "

The photographers elbowed their way through the crowd, towards the stage.

As Charlie approached the microphone a missile, hurled from the crowd, bounced on the stage. "That's not a joke", reproved

Dulaing, "That's no joke". In a pit under the stage several photographers shouted frantically at the photographers who had followed Charlie onto the stage to, "get out of the way", while they snapped Charlie singing Manto.

Song sung, the Taoiseach gingerly descended the rain-soaked ramp at the back of the stage. "What about my fee?" he called, "Where's my agent?" The Dubliners followed him off-stage and they met under a shelter. "That was great, Charlie", beamed Ronnie Drew, limping down the ramp. Hand out-stretched, the Taoiseach said, "Thanks, Ronnie, Thanks".

On a platform out in front of the stage three film cameras were grinding away. Another couple were getting crowd reaction up in the stands. RTE was recording a documentary of Siamsa. During The Dubliners' routine, as the crowd bounced and danced to the trill of John Sheehan's tin whistle, an RTE producer had called to a section of the crowd that was being filmed. Arms stretched above his head, hands slapping together, he shouted, "Clap this way! Clap this way!"

As Charlie sipped tea in the G AA 's hospitality room, resting after his performance, The Wolfe Tones took the stage and Pairc Vi Chaoimh vibrated with republicanism. Tricolours waved as The Boys of The Old Brigade rang out. To the opening strains of Rock on Rockall, Maggie Thatcher was warned, "Keep yer maulers off Paddy's rocks - or we're liable to rear up!"

Charlie returned to the VIP enclosure for the last few songs from The Wolfe Tones. Within a few minutes Joan Baez appeared in the enclosure, obviously excited by the colourfulness and enthusiasm of the crowd. GAA officials and Fianna Failers approached her, whispering, nodding towards the Taoiseach. She shook her head. As Charlie moved uneasily in his seat, unsure of what the fuss was about, an official motioned him to take it easy, everything would be okay. Baez was eventually prevailed upon to join the Taoiseach to watch the concert.

The crowd swayed, whooped and clenched fists to the rhythm of A Nation Once Again, and as the last notes disappeared in a cataclysm of applause and cheering Donal O'Sullivan, Chairman of the GAA Mupster Council, who had been sitting beside Charlie all afternoon, rose to his feet to applaud.

O'Sullivan, a large, bulky man, looked down and caught Charlie's eye. He jerked his head, urging Charlie to his feet. Charlie sat still. A few seats down the line, Albert Reynolds turned to find O'Sullivan looking at him and jerking his head. Albert half rose in his seat, looked towards Charlie, saw the Taoiseach wasn't moving, and sank down in his' seat again.