Authors: Mary O'Rourke
I think he felt guilty that he had truncated my continuing academic career by asking me to work in the hotel. Aside from the teaching possibility in Newfoundland, I had originally wanted to do
Law after I got my
BA
: at that time, once you had graduated, you could do an
LLB
in one year. ‘But who would mind Feargal?’ I asked him.
He offered then and there to cover the costs of taking on someone to look after Feargal, and to put petrol in my car every week for the drive to Maynooth. That night, I talked it over with Enda and
he said that I should do it if I wanted to. Enda was a very modern thinker, fortunately for me. I put an ad in the local paper, saying, ‘Person going to Maynooth to do H. Dip. invites others
to make a carload’. Three people replied and the four of us went up to Maynooth four nights a week, each of us taking our car in turn. On the journey back each time, we would have our own
study seminars, comparing notes and swapping tips. Feargal was just beginning to talk and I can remember him saying, ‘My mammy going to school’. Fortunately, I had been able to find a
very good girl to mind him. I very much enjoyed doing the Diploma in Maynooth College. Years later, they would present me with a ‘Maynooth Made Me’ Award. We were so fortunate in our
professor there, Brother O’Sullivan — a brilliant lecturer. Once I had completed my Diploma, I started to teach for a few hours in a local school. I had never really wanted to teach
when I was growing up but once I started, I loved it. I would never have gone into public life if I hadn’t done teaching.
When we adopted Aengus, I had to stay at home for a year, as you were not allowed to have any outside work during that time, so that you could give your full attention to the child. After my
year out with Aengus, I went back to teaching, this time at St Peter’s Convent. I stayed there for a year and then St Peter’s closed and it was transferred to Summerhill, about two
miles from Athlone. This was the time of Donogh O’Malley and the opening up of secondary education, and they were looking for teachers everywhere. When I started at St Peter’s, they
were so short-staffed that they were offering to pay for a housekeeper to look after my children, but of course I preferred to pay for my own childcare. As the kids got older and started going to
primary school, I began teaching full-time. By this time, Latin wasn’t a compulsory part of the curriculum any longer, and therefore I taught English and History. I relished teaching,
particularly the constant interaction with young people, the privilege of being part of their growing-up years and the fun of the staff room.
My father died in 1970. He had served as a
TD
for Longford–Westmeath from 1965. After my father’s death, I was asked to put forward my name as a candidate,
but at the time, I declined. Later in my political career, some people would say that I walked into a seat because of my family connections, but that is incorrect. I did not ‘walk into’
my father’s seat. As I have explained, since very early in my childhood, politics had been part of my life, and this continued to be the case throughout my teenage years and into my twenties
and thirties. As a young schoolgirl, I was a dedicated member of the local Macra Fáil, as the youth branch of Fianna Fáil was then known: literally ‘the young men’ of
Fianna Fáil. (This would later be given the more politically correct name of ‘Ógra Fianna Fáil’, i.e., ‘young people of Fianna Fáil’). I remember
helping out after school and in the holidays, in the company of other young devotees, sticking labels or stamps onto envelopes for posting. Politics had always been part of the family discourse and
ambience, and at the time of my father’s death, I was the Fianna Fáil Secretary, the Comhairle Ceantair, for my district. I was very much involved in politics and keen to become even
more involved. If my father’s death acted as a catalyst as regards my political career, it was in the sense that it made me even more aware of my desire to be deeply engaged in this area of
life and the community. My family and I were Fianna Fáil: I neither knew nor dreamt of any other kind of politics.
At the 1974 elections, I was put forward as a local candidate. When I was canvassing in that election, I was Mary O’Rourke — I was never known as Mary Lenihan. The town was small and
people would have known me. When I called at the houses of St Peter and Paul’s Terrace, the kids who came to the door would say, ‘Mammy, Teacher is at the door’, so it was the
teaching that helped. There had been one formidable woman who had run before me in Westmeath — Aileen Mallon — but otherwise there were very few women putting themselves forward at that
time. I was only in my mid-thirties then. I had great support from fellow political friends such as John Butler, who, I remember clearly, first came out canvassing with me at the tender age of 17.
John and his wife Mary would later be amongst our closest friends. Again, I was so lucky, as Enda was very progressive and all for me going into politics. Now, he wouldn’t have gone out
canvassing, but he would ask people in the local pub to vote for me and use his other networks to gather support for me.
I can very well remember getting elected to Athlone Town Council in 1974. I don’t think I ever had as big a thrill: for your own townspeople to elect you is a huge thing. I became a very
committed local politician. During those early years, I was subsequently elected as Chairperson of the Town Council, which was a big accolade.
The town council had a nominee to the board of the then Regional College, which was still in its fledgling state. I asked Seán Fallon, the leader of our group on the council, for that
board nomination. Although he was sadly not there to see the college open its doors in 1971, my father had during his time as a
TD
been a key figure in pushing for Athlone
to be chosen as one of the sites for a Regional College. I had followed its evolution with great interest and felt that if I were to be involved in the board, I would be helping to further the work
my father had started. The Fianna Fáil Party agreed and I took up my role with great gusto.
Also on the Athlone College Board was Labour’s Tim McAuliffe, who had been a soldier-in-arms with my father when the college was being mooted and had also been Chairperson of Westmeath
Vocational Educational Committee (
VEC
), which oversaw the launch of the college. Paddy Russell, a Fianna Fáil nominee from Westmeath County Council, was Chairperson
of the Board and I was Vice-Chairperson. We had a small, tight membership and I greatly enjoyed those early years of my involvement. Indeed, when Paddy Russell departed to become a Tax
Commissioner, I assumed the role of Chairperson.
Now remember, I was still quite a novice in public matters, but I worked hard at my brief. I never went to a council or board meeting without having fully read the relevant papers and so I was
able, I hoped, to contribute with intent to every discussion that was held. It was a great apprenticeship for my later career in public life. I also partook in many an interview board and I found
that extremely worthwhile and an interesting way to meet a lot of new people.
This brings to mind an amusing anecdote from the next stage of my political journey, which was my election to Westmeath County Council in 1979. I had been serving on Athlone Urban District
Council since June 1974, but I knew that this county council business was a more serious matter. Anyway, it was June 1979 and the night before I was due to attend my first county council meeting. I
had duly ironed my blouse (as tops were then called), as well as the boys’ shirts for school and taken care of all the other household tasks one generally has to do on a Sunday night in a
busy household. I was finally able to sit down to read the latest issue of
Cosmopolitan
.
As I turned the pages, I happened on an article about going to your first board meeting, which struck a chord with me at once. The recommendation was that you should speak up at that first
meeting, even if you didn’t have much to say: this would ‘break the ice’, so to speak, and mean that you would not be nervous the next time you had to address the room. So, armed
with this strong advice, off I travelled the next day to Mullingar, the county capital (though we in Athlone quite plainly regard Athlone as the capital!). Anyway, I duly arrived in Mullingar, to
be greeted by our party Whip on the county council, Deputy Seán Keegan, a well-respected senior Fianna Fáil politician. He had, he said, a bit of advice for newcomers like me: you
should never speak on your first day, but you should wait about six months and then make an intelligent intervention, in the meantime simply observing all that’s going on.
Going into that council chamber, I was already in a dilemma, weighing up these two pieces of conflicting advice in my mind. On the one hand, there was the recommendation of
Cosmopolitan
, read in the comfort of my own home on the night before: ‘speak up at your first board meeting’; on the other, the wise counsel of the tried and trusted Fianna
Fáil whip: ‘whatever you do, don’t speak for about six months’. We all sat down and our name cards were duly put in front of us: ‘Councillor Mrs Mary
O’Rourke’ was on mine. Obviously, I was a junior member but everyone was most friendly, and I didn’t feel in any way diminished or intimidated as I looked down at the agenda for
the meeting. Seeing that there was an item on housing, I said to myself, ‘Oh, I know something about houses. I live in one and I run one!’
When Item no. 5 — Housing — came around, I put my hand up and the Chairperson, a kindly man also named Keegan, said, ‘Oh, Councillor O’Rourke wishes to speak.’ With
that, all heads turned in my direction and all 23 pairs of eyes rested on my face. I could feel the blush rising in me and my knees atremble. However, I reminded myself that as a teacher, I had
already faced down much bolder recalcitrant pupils, so up to my feet I got and said some brief words about housing, based on what I knew about the matter. When I had finished speaking, there was a
little murmur of general approval throughout the room and I knew I had made it. I had taken the initiative, I had spoken, and I would never be afraid again. I recount all of this here because I
firmly believe that when an opportunity comes to one, the initiative should be taken.
As a scholar and one-time teacher of Latin, I have always felt that it is the famous adage from the Roman poet, Horace, which best sums up this philosophy: ‘Carpe diem’ —
‘Seize the day’. Or, even more poetically, that line from Robert Herrick, the seventeenth-century English poet: ‘Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying . .
.’ It is an attitude which has stood me in good stead at certain key moments throughout my life in politics.
My next major venture was in 1979, when I put myself forward for the Fianna Fáil National Executive, which was of course a big deal in political terms. I canvassed hard and used my family
connections. My brother Brian Lenihan was in politics of course and by this time had been in the Dáil as a
TD
and Cabinet Minister for a number of years. Through him,
I had been able to get to know many people at national level. Then as now, there were two ways to accede to Executive level: either via a vote on the floor of the Ard Fheis or by being nominated by
the County Executive for your area. I went for the first option, and was over the moon when my bid was successful. I remember thinking, this is heaven, being on the National Executive! My brother
Paddy was also elected, via the County Roscommon Executive. He and I used to go to monthly National Executive meetings together, along with Áine Kitt (later to become Áine Brady
TD
), who had been elected from County Galway. The three of us would duly meet beforehand on the first Thursday of every month in the yard of the Prince of Wales Hotel in
Athlone. And of course my brother Brian, as General Secretary of the party, was also on the Executive at this stage.
Next, in August 1981, I made a successful bid for the Seanad. This too had come about as a result of my ‘carpe diem’ approach to life and politics. I had been at a Fianna Fáil
National Executive meeting one day, when Charlie Haughey, who was leader at that time, had announced, ‘We are short someone to go for the Cultural and Educational Panel. Is there anyone in
this room who thinks that they are cultured and educated?’
And do you know what I did? I put up my hand and I said, ‘I do.’
Haughey said, ‘Right, Mary O’Rourke, so you can run on that panel, okay?’
It was that simple to run, but of course I then had to go and get the votes. I managed to do so however, and the first day I walked through the gates of Leinster House as a Senator was certainly
an occasion to remember for me. I started to speak at every debate I could possibly participate in and I soon discovered that I was well able to put across my point of view, and that I could have
an influence with what I said. I talked a lot on different Bills — especially educational Bills — as well as many other areas of concern. I talked a lot. At an early stage, I became
Seanad Spokesperson for Education. That first six months we were under a Fine Gael government, with John Boland as Minister for Education. I remember him bringing two separate Bills along, one of
them concerning the National Council for Curriculum and Assessment (
NCCA
). I had plenty to say on these issues and many others besides.
As soon as I got into full-time politics, as a member of the Seanad, I left teaching, and I didn’t ever contemplate getting a teacher’s pension. I didn’t take a sabbatical or
leave of absence — I just left. At the General Election in February 1982, I went for the Dáil but I didn’t make it, so I put myself forward once more for the Seanad. I had to go
around to all the local councillors and knock on their doors and say, ‘I am Mary O’Rourke and I am going for the Educational Panel.’ That was hard work, but I had a lot of moral
and practical support from Enda, as well as from Mícheál Ó’Faoláin, Pat Kelly and Seamus Browne, all of whom have remained my great friends to this day. My second
bid for the Seanad was successful: in fact, I got a huge vote. I wasn’t too disappointed at that stage that I had not got into the Dáil, because, there too, I had very good voting
figures which clearly augured very well for the next time. I also knew the February 1982 government was unstable and that it was likely that there would be another election soon. And six months
later in November, this is what indeed transpired.