Paul Moore is the author of ‘Doctor Paisley and Mister Clerk – Recollections of Ian Paisley’s Agriculture Committee Years’. It is available from Amazon.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09WCPWHQH
On the 2nd of December 2024, it will be exactly 25 years since ‘the appointed day’ – the day when legislative powers and executive authorities were devolved to the Northern Ireland Assembly. But what were things really like back in thse heady days of 1999?
Paul Moore – a former Assembly official who had been seconded to his job ‘up the hill’ the week before devolution – remembers very well the high hopes and expectations of many, and the vehement opposition of some, to the Belfast/Good Friday Agreement and its Institutions.
Paul has adapted a number of ‘episodes’ from his book: ‘Doctor Paisley and Mister Clerk – Recollections of Ian Paisley’s Agriculture Committee Years’ which is available in paperback and e-book formats from amazon.co.uk: https://amzn.eu/d/89Lkwxq
In this episode, which covers the Assembly’s earliest weeks of operation, Paul discovers that he is about to work closely alongside a certain Ian R K Paisley – the Agreement’s most vocal opponent at the time.
Paul has also read this extract for those who prefer audio. Listen below:
Episode 2 – Fish (and eggs) on Friday
At the second meeting of the Committee (on the 10th of December 1999) members had received presentations from bodies representing six sectors of the rural economy, and I was impressed at how seriously those bodies all took their first engagements with the Committee. The room was full of Heads of this, and Directors and Chief executives of that. Dr Paisley was clearly ‘in his element’ that day: it was as if everyone had come to acknowledge his authority and to pay their respects to ‘the Don’.
I had been slightly amused to discover that there were two fishing bodies with very similar names: the Northern Irish Fish Producers Organisation (NIFPO) and the Anglo-North Irish Fish Producers’ Organisation (ANIFPO). It reminded me of the scene from Monty Python’s ‘Life of Brian’ where there is a proliferation of People’s Fronts relating to Judea. Needless to say, I didn’t share that comparison with Dr Paisley.
The two fishing bodies had made quite an impact on the Committee in that meeting, and in several subsequent ones, and members had agreed that the Committee’s first ‘away day’ should be a trip to meet with the Fish Producers Organisations on their ‘turf’ (or should that be ‘in their waters’)?
And today – it’s Friday the 4th of February 2000 – we are heading off to visit the villages of Portavogie, Ardglass, and Kilkeel.
Ours is the first Committee to arrange an outside visit, so this is another ‘feather’ in Dr Paisley’s cap. It has also been a real test of the team’s organizational capabilities, but Stephen has done an excellent job of setting up the itinerary in consultation with the FPOs. He’s also booked us some transport, and there’s a shiny new 15-seater Mercedes minibus, with a driver, sitting at the east door of Parliament Buildings when I arrive at work. Very fancy, and ours for the day!
Dr Paisley won’t be on the bus, though. His CPOs are insisting that he travel separately in the armoured police car, and he has, in turn, decided that Ian Junior will travel with him. In what I take to be an indication of the esteem in which Gardiner Kane is held within the DUP, he is left to travel in the minibus on his own. I’m watching, amused, as Gardiner hangs around outside the bus until the ‘Shinners’ are seated, then comes onto the bus and sits himself as far away from the two of them as he possibly can!
The Clerk is travelling in the Chairman’s car, in order to brief him on the proposed itinerary, and Stephen and I are in the minibus with the rest of the members. It is a fine, sunny, winter’s day as we set off ‘for the seaside’, and I think I’m actually looking forward to our first trip.
For security reasons, we have been careful not to include all of the details or timings in our press release about the visit. But the locals know we are coming. The Clerk has spoken to the police commanders who are responsible for the three villages and there has, apparently, been some interest in the Portavogie leg. This may well have been prompted by the Minister, Brid Rodgers, having been pelted with eggs by protesters during her visit there in December, just a few weeks ago.
The police on the other side of Strangford Lough are, however, very relaxed about the Ardglass and Kilkeel legs.
*
We are underway, and the mood on the bus is jovial – a bit like a school trip in fact – and Stephen and I do the rounds with each of the members, getting to know them a little better outside the Committee room setting, and briefing them on who they are due to meet.
Before very long, we’ve arrived at the harbour in Portavogie, and we all get out of the bus to join the Paisleys and the Clerk, who’ve got here before us. The BBC’s local Agriculture correspondent, Martin Cassidy is already here and he has a small camera crew in tow.
I hear some noise, some shouting, but I can’t figure exactly where it is coming from, and we head towards the NIFPO HQ to hold a meeting with Dick James, the Chief Executive, and other NIFPO officials and fishermen.
Woah! Our initial saunter towards the building has just been hurried into a bit of a dash by the sight and sound of eggs hitting the concrete around us, all accompanied by some loud jeering. None of the egg splatters have come anywhere near me, but I can see that Ian Junior has got some on his clothes. I am slightly shaken, but not unduly worried since there doesn’t appear to be any threat in close proximity, and there are a few uniformed police officers nearby.
*
Our short meeting in the HQ is over and the group is being escorted around to view some of the tied-up trawlers and the harbour facilities. It has become pretty obvious that the BBC team is doing its best to capture Dr Paisley and the Sinn Fein Members together in the same shot, but it is equally obvious that the two Paisleys are doing their best to avoid that shot ever being achievable.
As we walk past some tied-up trawlers, the sea air is suddenly filled with a loud slapping noise, and my eyes are drawn to the deck of one of the boats, and more specifically to a big red arse that’s pointing right at us! Its owner, a well-proportioned fisherman, has his trousers round his ankles and is gleefully slapping each of his rear cheeks in turn. I hear a cry of “Yeeeowww” and notice that a crowd is forming, and very much enjoying the show.
In our group, everyone’s reaction is to laugh, albeit somewhat uncomfortably. Then, as quickly as it started, this very personal protest is over, and I don’t think the BBC crew quite managed to get it on film.
I could well have expected a frosty welcome in this village for the Committee’s Sinn Fein members, but I am surprised at how little Dr Paisley’s reputation and status as a Protestant leader seem to count for these particular protestants.
Our group moves on quickly to the fish market on the quay and, while inside, members are genuinely interested in the selection of fish on offer, the prices that are being secured by the fishermen, and the catch restrictions that are about to be placed on the local fleet. I’m interested in seeing how all the fish look before they end up on a plate, and as one who loves the smell of fresh fish, I’m having quite an enjoyable time.
My enjoyment is short-lived, though. Even from within the confines of the market I can hear that a hostile atmosphere is building outside, on the quayside, and it is no surprise when the Clerk tells me that the police have decided it is time for the Committee to go. He says he will round up the Paisleys, and he suggests that Stephen and I should start to herd the other members towards the bus. Both the minibus and the Paisleys’ car have, apparently, been moved to just outside the fish hall.
I approach Sinn Fein’s Francie Molloy and Gerry McHugh and tell them that the police are suggesting it is time to go. Silly me! Their reaction is fairly predictable: “We aren’t going to let the RUC tell us what to do” they chorus. By now, the sounds of protest are getting louder and louder. “Please”, I say to them. “Never mind what the RUC says, I’m getting pretty worried, and I’d really like us to go now”. Reluctantly, they agree, and we all go out the fish hall door.
The two Paisleys, the Clerk and the big man’s Close Protection Officers go straight to their armoured car, but a group (who are mainly women) follows them and surrounds it. There’s lots of shouting and from what I can make out, they’re very unhappy at the two DUP men being in the company of members of “Sinn Fein/IRA”. Ian Junior seems to be taking a fair bit of the ‘heat’. Jesus! This is escalating!
The rest of us have reached our bus, thankfully, but as the driver starts it up, another group turns its attention our way.
Our bus begins to move, but the driver is now making a worried noise that sounds a lot like “Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit”. This second group (it’s actually a mob of angry-looking men) is closing in, and some very fruity gestures and catcalls are being directed at our bus. And now I can see missiles being launched in our direction! I hear loud thuds as they hit the sides of the bus, and the windows!
Ahead of us, some vehicles, including a forklift truck, have started moving. They’re speeding up. I think they’re trying to block our way out of the car park! Where the hell are those peelers?
I am now really quite concerned (in truth, I was terrified) and I am mightily relieved when the driver makes it – at high speed, and through the tiniest of gaps – out onto the road and away. I check around the bus, and I am pleased to see that it is still fully glazed, if a little eggy, and that we are going to be able to continue the trip.
While we are now safe, my thoughts turn to the Clerk, but I am only slightly concerned about him. He is, after all, with police officers whose entire job is to provide protection for their ‘principal’, and I have no doubt they have the tools to extricate themselves and their passengers from the situation they are in.
*
That felt like a lucky escape – the press later reported that the mob had been around forty strong and that two arrests had been made – and the general mood on our bus is now one of relief, with some nervous but light-hearted comments being bandied about. I wonder if this might, in fact, turn out to be a bit of a ‘bonding’ exercise for members, what with lunch being arranged at our next stop too. And being in close proximity to all that fine fresh fish has given me an appetite, despite our scary experience.
I can see that the BBC crew has followed our bus away from the mayhem and eventually we meet up with the Doc’s car in Portaferry, before boarding the small ferry boat to sail across Strangford Lough.
I assume that Dr Paisley has been shaken by the reception he has just received, but if he is, he isn’t letting it show. On the ferry, Martin Cassidy and his team continue to try to get ‘the money shot’ of the DUP’s and Sinn Fein’s togetherness (to no avail) and we disembark and make the (thankfully uneventful) journey to Ardglass.
There the Committee meet more fishermen and look at another harbour – not terribly exciting, if I’m honest – then we move on to a local golf club, where lunch with fishing dignitaries has been arranged. Word has obviously got out about the mob protest in Portavogie, and the police are now very visible and ‘on their toes’.
We arrive in the Clubhouse to find place name cards set out on two tables within a private function room. We immediately spot that Francie Molloy’s name card is sitting just across from Dr Paisley’s at the same table, and the Clerk quickly makes a discreet request to the restaurant staff. Francie’s card is subtly switched for another before anyone else notices. Once more, the BBC team has been thwarted in their quest!
*
With everyone now well sated, we clamber back into our respective vehicles and make our way to the last stop of the day, in Kilkeel, where we are met by Alan McCulla, of the ANIFPO, and some of his team (and more local fishermen). I think the BBC crew must have called it a day as they’re nowhere to be seen. I believe they never quite managed to get their ‘together’ shot, but I’m sure they’ll at least have some interesting footage from Portavogie.
*
Yet another meeting has been held, we’ve walked around yet another harbour looking interested, and now we are being ushered inside a meeting hall, which has a slightly raised stage with a screen set up on it. The Chairman and Deputy Chairman are shown to their seats on the stage, where they are joined by the top local fishing folk. The rest of us are seated on the lower level in the hall, and the FPO begins its slide presentation.
In fairness, the room is very warm, the day has been long and full of incident, and we have partaken of a very filling lunch, but it isn’t long before I realize that Dr Paisley’s eyes are closing over, and soon he is quite clearly asleep with, as the expression goes, his ‘head in his top pocket’.
The Clerk and I catch each other’s eye but there is nothing we can do – we are too far away. I can feel my face redden as my embarrassment grows for the Chairman. The FPO is giving an extremely earnest presentation, How might they perceive his apparent lack of interest?
But lo and behold, the cavalry has arrived in the shape of the Deputy Chairman, George Savage, who is sitting next to Dr Paisley, and who must also have noticed what is going on. George stretches his arms as if in a yawn, reaches round the Chairman’s back, taps him briskly on his shoulder and then quickly removes his hand.
It works! Dr Paisley opens his eyes as if he was merely resting them and he nods sagely at the most recent point. Then, amazingly, he manages to ask a pertinent question. It is like he hasn’t missed a word! Martin and I nod to each other. A potential crisis averted, and full marks to George.
The meeting eventually breaks up and we are all driven back to Parliament Buildings
in the same vehicles as before, and without any further mishap.
*
All in all, the consensus in the Committee was that the day had been a success, in that the members’ objective of demonstrating concern for the industry had been met.
But I think it must also have been a difficult experience for the Paisleys. They may have found the visit a useful sounding board as to the potential political price of their personal involvement in the very institutions that they continued to rail against. But it can’t have been easy, being given such a hard time by the very people that they could normally have counted on as staunch supporters.
For my part, I am taken aback by the harsh realities of the mob’s apparent rejection of those institutions and, indeed, of the democratic process that led to their formation. Will this lead to any change in the way Dr Paisley chairs our Committee, I wonder.
And, given their experience, I also question how keen the Paisleys will be on the Committee taking further trips away from Parliament Buildings any time soon.
I know that I am not keen at all!
This is a guest slot to give a platform for new writers either as a one off, or a prelude to becoming part of the regular Slugger team.
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