My fruitless pursuit of Charlie Haughey

Oneof the most interesting aspects of RTÉ’s new television drama on Charlie Haughey was its retelling of the role that the Stardust disaster played in his spectacular fall from grace.

After his ruthless power grab from Jack Lynch in 1979, Haughey was keen to put his leadership of Fianna Fáil to the electorate for the first time. He planned to mobilise the troops with a triumphant Ard Fheis on St Valentine’s Day, 1981, with the leader’s main address to be a springboard for a snap election. There were even suggestions of Fianna Fáil securing an overall majority.

Haughey on the campaign trail in 1989. PHOTO: Stephen O'Reilly

However, in the early hours of February 14, harrowing news reports of a fire in a nightclub in Artane began to filter through, with 48 young people feared dead and hundreds more injured. The disaster occurred in the heart of Haughey’s Dublin North Central constituency. He held back tears as he visited the still smouldering remains of the venue, telling reporters that he knew many of the victims personally. As a mark of respect for the dead, the correct decision was made to postpone that weekend’s Ard Fheis and Haughey’s plan for an immediate election was abandoned.

By the time the general election was held the following June, Fianna Fáil’s popularity had plummeted. Political fallout from the hunger strikes, which saw two republican prisoners take Dáil seats at the expense of Fianna Fáil, as well as Haughey’s mismanagement of the economy, resulted in the party’s poorest showing in 20 years. Just two years into his tenure as Taoiseach, a humiliated Haughey found himself on the Opposition benches as a Fine Gael/Labour coalition entered Government.

In 2001, I co-authored a book (with Neil Fetherstonhaugh) on the Stardust disaster. Apart from documenting the story from the perspective of eyewitnesses and victims’ families, we wanted to explore if there was a State role in the tragedy and the investigation into it.

While Haughey had sanctioned a tribunal of inquiry within days of the disaster, it was criticised for having restricted terms of reference. When the tribunal issued its report in the summer of 1982, its central conclusion that the cause of the fire was probable arson was met with outrage by the affected families. Within the ranks of the Stardust campaigners, opinion was divided on Haughey’s response to the tragedy. To some, he was their champion, consistently raising the issue of victims’ compensation in the Dáil. Others viewed Haughey with deep suspicion, believing there had been a State-assisted cover-up into the cause of the disaster, even though no evidence existed to support this theory.

There were also attempts to link Haughey with the owner of the Stardust, Patrick Butterly. One newspaper discovered a connection between Des Traynor, who was involved with Haughey’s former accountancy firm, and a company where Patrick Butterly was one of the original directors and shareholders. However, Haughey had severed his ties with Haughey Boland and Company on his appointment as Minister for Finance in 1966, two years before Traynor became a director of the Butterly-linked company.

Haughey’s most public falling-out with the Stardust Victims’ Committee came in the aftermath of the 1989 General Election. He was accused of reneging on a pre-election promise to provide funds for a memorial park for the victims in Coolock. After a prolonged campaign by this newspaper and numerous protests outside Government Buildings by the Stardust families, Haughey finally relented in 1991 and agreed to a scaled-down version of the park plan. Not for the first time in his political career, Haughey had gone from villain to hero. He was even invited to turn the first sod on the site of the 26 acre park.

While researching our book, we wrote to Charlie Haughey many times, inviting him to respond to the conspiracy theorists’ unfounded claims of a Stardust cover-up. He chose not to accept our offer to set the record straight. While the late Patrick Butterly was a self-confessed Fianna Fáiler, there appeared to be no love lost between him and Haughey. In his privately published memoirs, Butterly gave the impression that he profoundly disliked him, writing that “Fianna Fáil was a great party until that Haughey fella got a hold of it”.

There’s little doubt that Haughey was personally devastated by the Stardust disaster and that his concerns for the victims were heartfelt and sincere. It’s also important to remember that Haughey spent much of the ‘80s in Opposition. He was hardly in a prime position to influence Government decisions in relation to the Stardust, let alone orchestrate a cover-up. Haughey, in his capacity as a local TD, had also objected to numerous licence applications by the Butterlys for their Silver Swan bar in the years following the tragedy.

In our book, we concluded that while Haughey had since been exposed as a cheat in his financial dealings and personal life, nothing – other than speculation and innuendo – has ever emerged to suggest any wrongdoing on his part in relation to the Stardust disaster or its aftermath.