As Time Goes By - July 1984

Profiles in Courage: 2.
Dermot Metcalf, Fianna Fail TD for Dublin West Central

It all started with a bad bottle of Guinness. Chesty Culliton ran a somewhat decrepit pub in the village of Cligeen, Co Wexford, back in the Forties. And one night he served that selfsame bad bottle to one Trigger Metcalf. Trigger was out in '16, put seven notches on his Webley .38 during the War of Independence and in the Civil War stood by the man he always called The Chafe. A hard man; Trigger, and not one to be lightly insulted. When Trigger upbraided Chesty for his careless treatment of the National Drink a slight fracas ennsued and the resulting feud lasted until both men died within a week of each other in 1974.

Chesty had the ear of the local Fianna Fail TD at the time and when in 1951 The Chafe visited Cligeen to commemorate the Battle of Inchfinn poor old Trigger found himself releegated to the back row of the platform party.

Trigger had to wait until 1969 for his revenge. By then he had inherited his brother Ben's pub in Dublin and had become secretary of the West Central Fianna Fail cumann. When the nominations for that year's general election were being decided who should be the front runner but The Mouser Culliton, a brash young busiinessman in a mohair suit who had in the thriving Sixties built a fortune from his rodent control company. The less said the better about how Trigger disqualified certain cumainn and invented others. Suffice it to say that the budding political career of The Mouser, grandson of Chesty CUlliton, was brought to a sudden halt. Needing someone to put on the ticket, Trigger decided on his granddnephew Dermot, then in his second year of medical at UCD. Dermot, who couldn't stand the sight of blood, was only too happy to abandon the scallpel and pick up the knife out of The Mouser's back. He scraped in on the eighth count.

Dick Walsh wrote a piece in the Irish Times in November 1981 in which he assessed the loyalties of various Fianna Fail backbenchers. Dermot Metcalf, he concluded, was a Charlie man. Bruce Arnold, however, in his famous list of those who wanted Charlie kicked out of the leadership, had Dermot down as an O'Malley man.

This is the secret of Dermot Mett'5 success. No one knows where he stands. On anything. A few years back he had one of those American political science students' working in his constituency office for the summer and the student warned Dermot that he was in danger of fading into the background. "You need a cause which will set you apart from the common herd," said the student, "something which indicates a profound interest in humanity, something which shows your compassion." The itinerants, thought· Dermot. He'd spend a few nights in a caravan, lead the itinerants on demonstrations, speak up for them in the Dail. He'd get his photo on the front page of the Irish Times, him sitting around the campfire, swapping tales with his new friends.

Shortly before Dermot could come to a final decision on this there was a big row in West Central in which hunndreds of Dermot's constituents burned down an itinerant campsite and drove the travellers away. Dermot reconsiidered his position. The itinerant issue would get his name in the papers, alright, but he could foresee delegations from. residents' associations picketing his house. For a while he considered coming out strongly against the itineerants and demanding that they be moved on. But that too had its dangers. He needed something which showed his compassion, but something which didn't rouse any controversy. F ollowwing the advice of the American student, Dermot decided to champion tile cause of the American Indian.

Dermot now has a letter from Marlon Brando framed on his office wall. He has made several Dail speeches on the issue and has campaigned to have Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee put on the shelves of every library in the country. He visited Arizona two years ago and was made an honorary Apache chief. His photo, in full war bonnet, appeared on the front page of the Irish Times. John Bowman now interviews him on Day By Day eight times a year, on average.

The visit of Ronald Reagan last month caused Dermot some problems. He received several telegrams from his Indian friends asking that he protest during the old scalphunter's speech to the Dail. Dermot agonised about whether he should stay home or join the Tony Gregory/Workers' Party walkout. He eventually decided on mounting a dignified protest. After the event Dermot leaked the information that although he had attended the Dail he had kept his fingers crossed behind his back throughout Reagan's speech. Thus, he told the political corresponndents (off the record), he had mainntained his principles while distancing himself from the rent-a crowd brigade ".

During last year's Amendment Frolics, Dermot made a point of appearing in Nesbitts, Mulligans, The Oval and a few more media pubs where he loudly tut-tutted at the spinelessness of the political leaders. He told political correspondents )off the record) that the Amendment was "an appalling intrusion into personal matters and an inexcusable confuse of the roles of church and state." H= voted (under pressure, he said privater; for the Fianna Fail wording. In the las two weeks of the Amendment cammpaign he was a daily Communicant and on the Sunday before the vote he arranged to read the lesson at ten o'clock Mass in the largest church in his constituency.

Pressed to take a position on various political issues of the day, Dermot is cautious. "Our greatest problem is unnemployment," he says. He is against it.

"Our greatest asset is our young people," he is fond of saying.

He is a strong supporter of civil liberties. He thinks the Criminal Justice Bill "strikes the right balance".

On the North he says, "It's a very sad situation. We must find a way to go forward together."

During the first attempt to disslodge Charlie Haughey from the leaderrship of Fianna Fail Dermot met Ray McSharry in Leinster House one day and grasped his hand. "Jesus, Ray," he 'said, "J esus, the country needs The Boss."

Dermot never spoke at parliamenntary party meetings where the leaderrship was discussed. He used the time to write letters to constituents. He stopped this practice when it was rumoured that he was actually taking notes of what was being said in order to pass them on to Geraldine Kennedy.

During the second attempted coup against Charlie it seemed as though the dissidents might win. Dermot met Ray McSharry in Leinster House and grasped his hand. "Jesus, Ray," he said, "Jesus, we have to think of the country." He leaked this to political correspondents and followed it up by winking at Dessie O'Malley in the Dail restaurant.

After the vote he assured Haughey that his heart had been in the right place. However, Haughey is rumoured to have been behind Dermot's failure to get a nomination in the recent Euro election. Last Wednesday Dermot was heard asking various Fianna Failers when Eimear Haughey's birthday is, as he wants to buy her a pony. •