Honesty is the best policy

“There’s no orgasms here!” jokes Mary O’Rourke, as she opens her front door to Hot Press. As opening greetings go, it’s a new one on me.

The humorous salutation is in reference to a recent phone conversation in which the bubbly O’Rourke asked if I would be enquiring about her orgasms in this interview. To be honest, it was not a line of questioning I had envisaged asking a 71-year-old grandmother...
O’Rourke recounted that the then Minister for Women’s Affairs, Nuala Fennell, had been slagged mercilessly by her fellow TDs back in the mid-‘80s when she spoke about orgasms in a legendary Hot Press interview.
O’Rourke barely contains her laughter as she recounts the story: “Nuala – who’s a lovely woman – gave an interview to Niall Stokes in which she was talking about the role of women and women’s rights. And she said, ‘It’s the right of every woman to have enjoyable orgasms!’ I knew what she was trying to get at – that it shouldn’t be all about trying to gratify the man. That the guy and the gal should be in it equally and both getting enjoyment from it. All of which, I think, should be in any relationship.
“But when she gave that interview the newspapers highlighted that bit. When she came into the Dáil the next day, we were all giggling. And some Fianna Fáil guy shouted out (laughs), ‘Nuala, did you have an orgasm last night?’ She just got red and bright in the face. Oh, gee! It was really funny! We were awful really! At that time, Hot Press was wooooow! Radical! I remember PJ Mara asking would I do an interview with Hot Press and I said, ‘Are you mad, PJ? I will not!
“I just thought to myself, ‘I’m not going to be talking about orgasms!’ I was happy enough with my relationship (laughs), instead of going and talking about it!”
As O’Rourke ushers me into her sitting room, she tells me that she’s apprehensive about a contribution she’s just written for an anthology, entitled The Cow Jumped Over The Moon, to be published in April. While she sticks the kettle on, she hands me a draft of her piece, ‘The Rocky Road to Motherhood’, and asks for my opinion.
The article is an hilariously frank account of her difficulty in conceiving. It describes how both she and her husband visited a gynaecologist called De Valera to investigate the problem.
“He was a De Valera – I didn’t make him up! The doctor said Enda’s sperm was 100% mobile. Enda said, ‘Yipee! It’s not me anyway!’ We tried. And we tried and tried and tried and tried. And we went back to De Valera again.”
O’Rourke eventually conceived after four years. Jokingly, I comment that I’m sure she didn’t mind all the practising. She roars laughing and replies: “The trying, you mean?! It was a pure miracle,” she says, pausing, before steering the conversation back to her confessional article. “Yeah, that’s all pretty naked!’ she says. “Oh, Jesus! The book is coming out in April. I wrote very candidly! God, very candidly! I might go underground or something! I’m probably too frigging honest for my own good!”
As this interview demonstrates, O’Rourke is indeed that rare breed: a straight talking politician...

Jason O'Toole: Your family is an impressive political dynasty. Your father Patrick was a TD, as was your brother Brian, and your other brother Paddy was a councillor. Now, your two nephews, Brian and Conor Lenihan are Ministers in the government. There must have been something in your family’s DNA.
Mary Rourke: It was always politics in our house. My father was a really political guy. He was sort of ‘Mr Fianna Fáil – Athlone!’ People would come to him all the time. For example, when De Valera or Seán Lemass would come to make a big speech in the town they’d visit him. In fact, it was Lemass who sent my father to Athlone to set up Gentex textiles. My father was a tax inspector in Dublin Castle and Lemass met him in the course of his Ministerial duties and he was very taken by him because he was sparky and bright. So, he asked my father if he would go to Athlone to set up this cotton factory, which employed 1,000 people. He came home to my mother and their three children – Brian, Paddy and Ann and I was in her tummy – and he said to her, ‘Pack your bags, Annie; we’re going to Athlone!’ I used to always joke that I was the only native – the rest of them were blow-ins! I was the youngest by four years – I had a sister four years older than me and a brother Paddy five-and-a-half-years older than me and Brian was seven-years-older than me. So, I really was, what they called at that time in Ireland, ‘the last kick!’ Orgasm or not (laughs), there was usually a last kick and I was it.
Did you have a sense from early on that you were destined to get involved in politics?
I remember one time De Valera gave a great big speech in the market square in Athlone and then he came down to my father’s house afterwards. And they were all in a room; Dev didn’t drink, but the rest of them were having their whiskeys. I was put to bed, while the rest of the family were in on the conversation. I can still actually almost physically feel myself as I crept up the dark corridor and put my ear to the door. I knew there were all talking about mysterious, wonderful things – and I was going to be part of that mystery. No matter how, I was going to be involved. So, it was always history and politics –and local politics.
Why didn’t you contest your father’s seat in the by-election following his death in 1970?
They were asking me but I didn’t go for it because I had two very young children – one was one and one was five. I stayed at home to mind the kids. My father died in 1970 and it was the winter of ‘82 when I got into the Dáil.
You then held your seat for 20 consecutive years.
I held it until after Enda died (her husband).
Political pundits reckon you lost the seat because of all the messing around with the boundary changes in your constituency, as well as Fianna Fáil Headquarters instructing you not to canvass in certain areas. And, of course, there was the spats with your political rival Donie Cassidy, who was chasing the votes for the same Fianna Fáil seat.
No. I lost it because I hadn’t the spirit in me. Enda passed away in 2001 and the election was 2002. I took Enda’s death really, really hard because it was unexpected. That’s why. I mean, he died in front of me here (in the sitting room). He collapsed and went into a coma and died a day later. I took that very hard. I couldn’t see what life had for me any more. That was it, quite simply. So, I suppose I didn’t put my spirit into the campaign. I still did my clinics and worked for people and everything, but...
Did you suffer from depression?
Not so much depression, but I couldn’t see a way ahead for me. He was gone – and that was hard for me. I was a widow in mourning. I always felt that I let him down by not winning. In every election Enda had really watched over me and he had been a great help in looking after the constituency work, particularly when I was at the Dáil. It was like the minute he was gone, I was like, ‘Oh, Enda! I’m not able to cope!’ And I’m actually not like that. I’m not droopy. My nature isn’t droopy. I felt I let him down. I was determined, that day I lost, that I was going to come back.
And, of course, it wasn’t a “given” that you’d actually make a comeback. You had the contest for your local Cumann’s nomination to run in the 2007 General Election first.
I know there was a change in boundary and all that – and Donie (Cassidy) makes a lot of it – but no, it was not a given because people had moved on and they thought I should have moved on and shut up! That was a fate for me! I remember Donie talking to somebody who knows me very well and they said, ‘Imagine! She’s talking about going on again! Sure, it’s all over, like. What’s she talking about? There’s only one seat and it’s yours – of that there’s no doubt!’ And, there you are...
Why do you think you won the seat back?
I was helped by two things: Donie didn’t work for people the way I did. Actually, Donie is happier where he is, in the Seanad. He didn’t see his role as working in the daily grind. And the second thing: there were boundary changes which helped me. Longford came back in. And I had always, in the older days, got a good vote in Longford. But, anyway, I got in – that’s the point (laughs).
I suppose it’s a case of swings and roundabouts with the changes in the constituency boundaries, particularly when you consider that you weren’t able to canvass in Kilbeggan in 2002?
Oh, don’t talk to me! I wasn’t allowed! I got letters from Fianna Fáil saying that I could not go past Rochfordbridge and all those areas which had all been favourable to me in the past. If you were benign about it you could say that Fianna Fáil were trying to get two seats. I’m not inclined to be benign about it. I’m inclined to take the malign viewpoint. Bertie (Ahern) gave PJ Mara permission to ‘do’ me!
Do you really think so?
I do. I’ve loads of evidence. There’s no doubt about it. Now, at that time I was deputy leader (of Fianna Fáil). I didn’t think it was up to me to go against what was the party line. The party line was: Mary O’Rourke (pause)... what did Donie Cassidy’s brother or son say, something like, ‘Beat her back to the bridge of Athlone!’ They wanted me out. Oddly enough, when I got over my hump, so to speak, and faced up to it, I said, ‘Feck it! I’m not going to let that knock me back’.
Did you ever confront Ahern about this?
I did. Oh, yeah! The day after I lost the seat he telephoned me – but he had to be badgered to telephone me. I won’t give you her name but somebody in Fianna Fáil called me and said, ‘I can’t get him (Ahern) to ring you!’ I said, ‘I know why – because he has a guilty conscience!’ Anyway, he eventually rang me when my two sons and Conor Lenihan were here with me. I said to Bertie, ‘I want two things: I want you to give me a Seanad seat and I want you to make me leader of the Seanad’. He said, ‘Alright... alright!’ Then time went on and the Seanad election was going on. I went in to see him to reinforce the commitment. And I had it out with him then; I said to him, ‘You know, you did me!’ He said, ‘Ah, don’t be going on with that old talk, Mary!’ But I know he did it! Anyway, he said, ‘Would you consider going around the country and getting the Seanad votes?’ I said, ‘What?! You told me on the telephone – and I’ve witnesses to it – that you’d put me in. I’m not going around the country. Everybody knows that you told me that you were giving it to me! If you don’t give it to me, you’ll know what for!’ So, he did. He said, ‘OK! Ok! But give up that old talk you’re going on with!’ Ah, I really stood up to him that day in the office.
Why did Ahern make you deputy leader of the party? Those more cynically inclined suggest that your appointment might have been to rein in Reynold’s midlands supporters, known in Dublin circles as the Country and Western brigade.
Well, it could have been. Funnily enough, somebody said to me afterwards that it was ‘because you were semi-Western!’ Not quite! Not like them anyway (laughs). But semi. I never looked at it like that, but I suppose it was a concession to rural Ireland. He was Dublin, Dublin, Dublin. I just think he thought I would be ‘suitable’, I suppose. You know, a woman – even an older woman – but a woman. And one well-known in the country. I had a good name for being Minister for Education. I think it was that. I was very happy to be deputy leader. Oh, it was a marvellous honour.
Can you tell me about the time you contested the leadership of the party with Albert Reynolds?
Oh, stop! That was by way more of a (pauses)... not a joke, I wouldn’t like to call it that. Not a dare. But, I don’t know, it was just a notion I took. But I wasn’t really, truly serious.
Ah, come on! You must have had eyes on the top job. Why else would you bother running?
Ah, I suppose I was. I thought a woman should throw her hat in. I did actually. Because there really isn’t a woman’s vote, you know? Do you remember the Women’s Political Association ran a campaign one time: ‘Why not a woman?’ It was a kind of stupid campaign, I always thought. But maybe I benefitted a bit from it (laughs). There’s isn’t a woman’s vote, but I thought there should be a woman in the race for the party leadership. But I didn’t go all out, going around to people. Anyway, Albert had it sewn up. Oh, gee! Wouldn’t you say, ‘Well done,’ in the way he did it?
It sounds like there was rampant sexism within the Fianna Fáil party back then?
Oh, huge! God, Fianna Fáil is male! Male! Male! Male! In the past, there was loads of sexism. ‘You know your place! Didn’t you do well to get here?’ Now, I’m jumping forward but when I was in the Mansion House (for the 90th anniversary of the Dáil) everyone who spoke was a man and everyone who spoke mentioned Countess Markievicz. But there wasn’t one woman who spoke! I thought Ciarán Cannon missed an opportunity. When I was there, he was beside me to the left and I said, ‘What are you doing here, Ciarán?’ And he said, ‘I’m speaking on behalf of the PDs’. I said, ‘I thought youse were dead!’ Now, I think he should have given way to Mary Harney – because she would’ve been a woman on the platform. What brought me onto that rant?
After Reynolds took over the leadership, you were dumped out of the Cabinet. Was that revenge for daring to contest the leadership with him?
Yes, it was; or maybe temerity. We call it the Valentine’s Day Massacre because there were eight senior ministers and 11 junior ministers (axed). He said I was too ‘mouthy’! He didn’t use the word ‘mouthy’, as that’s kind of a modern word – but I was gabby!
Gabby?
Well, I’d be talking about things going on in the party and all that. In other words, he wanted to be gabby – not me (laughs)! But I did challenge him. I went in to him. I was the last called in. He was eating a sandwich and then (O’Rourke makes an explosion sound as she gestures bits of sandwich flying all over the place)... His mother never told him not to talk with your mouth full (laughs)! But I said, ‘But why are you letting me go? I want to know? I’m entitled to know under labour law.’ A total lie (laughs)! ‘Ah, sure, look,’ he said, ‘don’t give me that old guff!’ Now, he gave me a good junior after that.
But a junior position is not the same as being in the Cabinet?
Not at all. No. But, anyway, it didn’t set me back. Well, it did. I do take all these things quite hard. But I was quite lucky because I came up again pretty sharp. The only time I didn’t bounce back was when Enda died. But, I suppose, that’s so close to your life. I was a widow in mourning.
And how are you now?
They’ve made all the difference (points to photographs of her grandchildren). Those kids have made all the difference.
Have you been able to move on?
I have, yeah. Now, I’m still very lonely at night. I was talking to a friend of mine, who’s a widow, this morning on the phone. And she said, ‘What do you hate the worst?’ I said, ‘I hate going to bed on my own’. I hate going up to the bedroom on my own. I hate waking up in the morning in the bed on my own. So, yeah, it has a huge effect. But my two sons are wonderful and when I see the lovely children that they had – and I love them and they love me. Listen, there is nothing like grandchildren. They just love you to bits. It’s a compensation. It’s new life again, you see.
Have you been able to date again?
I have some men friends who would take me out if I had to go to a function or a concert or a play in Dublin. I have that kind of very steady friendship and I enjoy that. I enjoy men’s company. But not at all. Jason, I would never go to bed with anyone else. Having done it – and done it with great delight – I wouldn’t like to do it again.
So you don’t want to have another intimate relationship?
No. The first one was too strong. Nothing could ever measure. Nothing could ever measure...
Was your husband your first serious boyfriend?
Ah, well, now! I wasn’t that goodie-goodie! We married when I was 22 and he was 24. I was 18 when I met him and we had a very strong relationship for about two years and then we broke it off. And then I went with someone else and he went back to an old girlfriend. And we tricked about a bit. Then we came back again. So, we both had other boyfriends and girlfriends. But, in the end, we found one another again. And that was that. And we were forever faithful after that. Well, I hope so (laughs). I never found out anything anyway!
You write in that chapter you showed me that you were a virgin until your wedding night?
Well, you didn’t do that sort of thing.
Was that out of a sense of old fashioned values and respect?
You were terrified that you’d get pregnant! Oooh!
Was that because it would’ve shamed the family?
It was nothing to do with the family – you just didn’t want to get pregnant yourself! I was very early in the fight for proper contraception for women and proper sex education. I was always really keen on those. I always thought that when I was a young woman Charlie Haughey’s contraception for married people was a hoot!
Did the male TDs ever hit on you or flirt with you?
No. Funny enough, that never occurred. Perhaps I was just too about-my-business, do you know what I mean? I took the Dáil seriously and maybe they knew I was happily married. I don’t think that goes on so much. When you get there, you’re serious.
During the Presidential campaign, when he was the Fianna Fáil candidate, your brother Brian Lenihan was forced out of the Cabinet by Charlie Haughey, following the controversy surrounding the so-called ‘Lenihan Tape’ in which he contradicted a previous statement about an alleged phone call to President Hilary? A lot of Fianna Fáil people thought it was a disgrace that Haughey sacked him.
It was. Yes. Of course, he was wronged. But you see, it was Des O’Malley who called the shots. O’Malley went to Haughey and said, ‘I want him out!’ Haughey would say afterwards that it was loyalty to the party and all that. But he did him wrong. People have a wrong idea about Brian and Charlie Haughey. They were never friends in the sense of how you think of friends going for dinner or going out together. They weren’t friends – they were political allies.
What was Brian’s reaction at the time? Was he still determined to win the presidential election?
Brian reaction was, ‘I’ll fight on!’ As he did, as you know. Brian fought a marvelous campaign after that. The presidency was for one job – the voting should never have been done under the ‘PR’ voting system; it should have been first past the post. Brian got the number one first preferences. As a family, we always got a certain delight that he was the first choice of the people of Ireland.
Do you think Brian’s “mature recollection” comment was an error of judgment?
No. He was done! Jim Duffy was sent out to get Brian Lenihan. Garret FitzGerald poses as ‘Garret The Good’. Garret FitzGerald is very Machiavellian. He wanted Mary Robinson. She’s a member of that Davos Group, high flying economists and philosophers. He knew right well that Austin Currie hadn’t a chance. Austin Currie was shoved in to pump up Mary Robinson. He put him in so that the two of them together would get the vote and put Lenihan out. It was a terrible time for us. Can you imagine what it was like for Brian and his wife and his lovely children? It was a terrible time because we knew Brian was a very good man. There’s a new book out on Patrick Hillary and I think there’s a line in it that Hillary – Lord rest him – gave Brian absolution, that he hadn’t done the deed. Would it be wrong anyway if he had? It was blown up into something extraordinary.
Staying on the subject of your brother and Haughey, It was alleged that the former Taoiseach siphoned off monies raised for Brain’s liver transplant operation in the Mayo Clinic?
People never got to the bottom of that. All we know, as a family, is that Brian got enough money through that subscription list to go to America and have his operation, which wasn’t being done anywhere else in the Western world at the time. He was dead otherwise. We don’t know what other money came in, but apparently much more came in. And people keep saying, ‘That was meant for your brother!’ Brian didn’t need any more money. He got enough money – people never seem to have copped that. People say, ‘He took money that was meant for your brother!’ Yes, it was – the subscriptions came in – but Brian got enough to get him there, to do the operation. His wife Ann stayed with him for six weeks. So, what would he be getting more money for?
But aren’t people really saying that it’s just another example of Charlie Haughey being devious?
It should have gone to medical research. But Brian had his operation – maybe Charlie Haughey should have given it to a hospital who’d do research on pancreatitis, which is what Brian had.
Would you consider running for the presidency yourself?
No. I turned that down. I was actually actively offered it when Mary Robinson opted out six months early. I was canvassed and all for that. No, I would not like the pomp of it. I would never subject myself to the protocol: ‘Stand here... go left... you go right...’ I’d want to be a freer spirit than that.
What do you make of Enda Kenny always going on about wanting to be Taoiseach?
It’s foolish talk! I think it’s that foolishness that shows up in him. Now, everyone says he’s a nice guy – and he is a nice guy. I often meet him going to and from meetings and he’s very pleasant, always, ‘How are you, Mary?’ I said to him one day, ‘I always love saying, “Hello Enda!”’ because I don’t meet many Endas and it reminds me of my own Enda. When I say it I get a kind of a warm glow. But he’s always saying, ‘I’m going to be the Taoiseach!’ We’ve heard it for a long time and, if he keeps on saying it, he’s going to get boring! I think he’s just a bit foolish! He might be politically clever but I don’t think he’s intellectually clever.
I presume you won’t run in the next General Election?
Well, I haven’t made up my mind! I’ve taken the adage, ‘Never say yes or no until you have to!’ I’m full of life.
Everybody is saying that your son will eventually run?
Yes. My second son Aengus is interested. It’s a distinct possibility.
Last year you dropped out of the TV show, Celebrity Bainisteoir. What happened there?
I ran out of time. I hadn’t the time to give them. They wanted to make a big story about it. I said, ‘There’s no story!’ They wanted me on Saturdays, which is my clinic day; they wanted me on Sundays which is my family day. And I just couldn’t give them those times. As a wee gabby old fella said to me, ‘Hey! We didn’t elect you to go on the TV! We elected you to be our TD!’
There was a funny story doing the round last year that you were annoyed with your nephew, Minister for Finance Brian Lenihan because you were going to lose your medical card!
You see, I didn’t have a medical card. God help poor Miriam Lord (journalist)! She wrote that I had one and she was very sorry afterwards. She went out of her way to make sure everyone knew that I hadn’t one. She just thought – because of the age I was – that I had one. No, I never looked for it. I’m willing to pay. Why shouldn’t I pay?
Did you get a lot of people approaching you to complain about your nephew at the time of the medical card fiasco?
Ah, yeah, but that’s part and parcel of being a TD. I responded to anybody who got in touch with me. Then, as you know, we made massive concessions. I’ve always felt that if people can afford to pay you should pay. That’s the way I lived my own life, so I suppose I thought other people would feel like that. Also, I have to say that I think people are very prone in Ireland towards ageism. Particularly directed at women. If you talk about a man, it’s ‘Oh, he’s experienced,’ or authoritative or whatever; while women are ‘elderly’. Not the voters. It never struck the voters at all. They just want good value for their vote and they figured I’d give good value, which I think I do.
We started the interview with how politics must have been in your family’s water, so to speak. But isn’t it true that your clan also has a reputation for foot-in-your-mouth moments? For example, I’m thinking about the occasion when Conor used the word ‘kebabs’ in reference to Turkish immigrants.
Oh, Conor said the thing about the Kebabs, which I don’t think was right now, because he meant it racially! What did I say?
The “working like blacks” remark for one.
There was nothing wrong with that now! They’re all talking about Obama being black now as if it was white, you know? The journalists had all written that I was not winning the convention (election ticket convention for Longford-Westmeath) and suddenly I won it. So, they better make a story about something else. Pat Rabbitte told me he was telephoned three times by a certain journalist to come out against me. No TD or Senator came out against me that time. ‘They work like blacks!’ Of course they do! They were worked very hard. Now, they can’t say anything about it because he’s a black – Obama (laughs)! I wouldn’t call ‘I worked like a black’ a foot-in-mouth incident. The media never left me alone. Ring... ring... ring. Every station wanted me. Stations I never heard of! I said, ‘No, I’m not apologising!’ I will not.
And then there was the famous story about you in the bubble bath?
They rang me and they said, ‘How did you hear about chairman of CIE retiring?’ I said, ‘I was in the bath!’ Which I was! That was because I was so frigging honest! That’s just the way I am...