The good old days

This week, Alex. Kane finds some history in the form of an original photograph of the First Northern Parliament of Ireland and the invitation to the opening of parliament – some things change, some things don’t…

By Alex. Kane

Against a background of spectacular, indeed Frankensteinish thunder and lightning, with the sort of crashing and flashing that Belfast hasn’t seen for years, the hammer finally came down on the Government of Northern Ireland. It had been a tough battle and neither side was prepared to back down and cede control to the other. Victory had to be absolute. There was no room for compromise. But just as it looked as if it would be a fight to the finish, his wife stepped in, shook her head and ended the bidding war. Lot number 287 was mine.

I collect political ephemera and nick-nacks. I also collect books, Sherlock Holmes material (600 items and growing), prints and junk in general. One of the great joys of collecting lies in the unexpected discovery; one of those very rare moments when you stumble across an item which you didn’t even know existed. I had wandered into Bloomfield Auctions in search of a suite to replace the one which has been destroyed and ingested by my idiot dogs. What I came away with, poorer if happier, was “the official photograph of The First Northern Parliament Of Ireland, City Hall, Belfast, 7th June, 1921.” Sir James Craig surrounded by the forty Unionists who had been elected on May 24th.

But the real treasure of this purchase was the accompanying letter. Dated June 9th, 1921, it stated; “His Majesty the King will open the Parliament of Northern Ireland in the City Hall on Wednesday, 22nd inst. Your presence is requested on this occasion.” It was signed by Herbert Dixon—later to become the first Lord Glentoran—Unionist Chief Whip. And under his signature are the three lines, ruled in the same ink as that of his signature, which indicated to the MPs that their attendance was obligatory. Oh, the happy days when the Whip used to mean something!

I also have a copy of the portrait of the last Assembly in session; a rarity in its own right, since it met so infrequently in five years. There are two obvious differences between 1921 and 2003. The first is that Nationalist members are included this time round; the twelve elected in 1921 choosing abstention and boycott as the normal course of action.

The other difference is more subtle and concerns the matter of political authority and leadership. In the 1921 photograph, authority quite clearly lies with James Craig. He dominates the picture and, by extension, the Government itself. Unionism in those days was solid, secure and setting in its ways. Eighty years later and unionism is scattered all over the chamber, with its leaders, Trimble, Paisley, Robinson, McCartney and Empey physically and politically parted. Unionism today is fractured, frail and frayed at the edges.

Mind you, when it comes to political representatives, some things never change. There is no tactful way of putting this, but the fact remains that politicians in general, male and female, are not particularly attractive. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, and in this instance it will be any and every former MLA I bump into over the next couple of weeks.

But, my goodness me, the 1921 intake is a rum bunch. They look like a mass audition for the lead role in the Phantom of the Opera. They are poker-faced Protestants, with the pained expressions of “Wee Frees” confronted by the sight of Eamon de Valera in a passionate clinch with Orange Lil. These are not the sort of people you want to see on your charter flight to Ibiza.

The Assembly mob resembles a convention from Alcoholics Anonymous which has been stranded in the chaos caused by the industrial action of British Airways staff. Every one of them looks miserable and some appear to have been embalmed as well.

As you cast an envious glance towards the chisel-featured, Adonis-faced photograph which graces the top of this column, you will understand why I have failed to scale the greasy pole of elective politics. I am too handsome to win a seat. I am also too stupid to buy a sofa at an auction room. Oh well, I’ll have another look next week and see if I can find some suitable furniture for the dogs to nibble on.

Published in the Newsletter on 9th August 2003