My close encounter with Martin McGuinness

I MET Martin McGuinness once in somewhat unusual circumstances.

There I was, innocently covering a local election count in the RDS for this newspaper, when a deafening roar erupted at the entrance to the main hall. As any seasoned reporter will attest, Sinn Féin supporters have something of a reputation when it comes to making their presence felt – and heard – at election counts. They know how to celebrate, that’s for sure.

On this occasion, it was the arrival of party heavyweight Martin McGuinness that caused all the commotion. Flanked by a sea of hangers-on, McGuinness looked every bit the respectable statesman, light worlds away from his paramilitary past.

At that very moment, I happened to be interviewing an overjoyed Sinn Féin councillor who had just retained his seat on Dublin City Council. McGuinness and his entourage went straight over to congratulate their party colleague on his victory.

In a moment of what I can only describe as delusional euphoria, the councillor introduced me to Martin McGuinness along the lines of: “This is Tony McCullagh, editor of our local paper – he’s a great supporter.”

In fairness to the well-meaning councillor, what he probably meant to say was that I was a great supporter of local news and local issues. But there I was, in the full glare of television cameras and fellow journalists, being mistakenly outed as a closet Shinner.

Martin McGuinness shook my hand and surveyed me briefly; his thin lips breaking into a knowing smile. Possibly suspecting that I had been hijacked, he thanked me for my “support”.

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t exactly Sinn Féin’s biggest fan; that I could never condone the atrocities committed in the name of republicanism; that his party still had a long way to go before I would ever consider giving them my vote.

But I just stood there in mute silence. Maybe I should have said well done for his contribution to the peace process, but no words would come out.

As far as I know, my brief encounter with Martin McGuinness wasn’t newsworthy enough to warrant coverage on RTÉ. Mercifully, the incident also predated the era of social media.

Listening to all the glowing tributes to Martin McGuinness last week, I recalled my brief meeting with him with a mix of mild embarrassment and a degree of amusement.

For many victims of the Troubles, his legacy will be tainted by his IRA past. It’s also fair to say, however, that historians will recognise his role as a key architect of the Good Friday Agreement and a pivotal figure of the peace process. Whatever your view, one thing is certain: the island of Ireland has lost a giant of politics.