Once again a multi-millionaire Irish-American businessman is to be the Ambassador of the United States to Ireland. As the nomination of Mr Dick Egan of Massachusetts has been welcomed by both Democrats and Republicans, he is unlikely to encounter any real opposition when he goes before Congress for approval and he will certainly meet no resistance from the Irish Government.
Like the vast majority of his fellow Americans who will be going abroad to represent their country, Mr Egan has been a fund-raiser for the Republican cause. It has long been a Washington tradition that all good men (and women) who come to the aid of the party will get their due rewards here and now, rather than in the great beyond.
Few ripples
Most of the ambassadors accredited to Dublin are career diplomats of some standing and experience in their native foreign services. They are an orderly bunch who cause few ripples on anyone's social, business or political pond. More than 30 years have passed since the Diplomatic Corps last made the headlines as a collective institution. A young, newly elected Labour TD, Mr Michael O'Leary, had the audacity to criticise the corps in the Dail. His speech was made during the annual debate on the estimates for the Department of External Affairs, the only parliamentary occasion at that time when matters foreign were discussed.
Mr O'Leary drew attention to the thin attendance from the corps in the gallery, a grand total of five representatives. He expressed his unease at "the kind of relaxed diplomatic representatives that we have to receive from other countries". It seemed to him, he added, that they regarded Dublin merely as "a centre for social life". Scarcely a warmongering speech but it provoked an immediate and astringent reply in the form of a letter to The Irish Times from the Belgian Ambassador, Francis-Leo Goffart.
Unfortunately, Goffart's spirited defence of his fellow envoys was somewhat tarnished by his assertion that at least the professional diplomats in Dublin had not yet to suffer mixing with "crowds of improvised colleagues representing a whole string of newly-created states" - this just a few years after his government had hastily packed its colonial bags and left the Congo in a mess. The charge d'affaires at the Nigerian Embassy demanded action and several heated meetings of the corps had to be held before the diplomats could return to enjoy the calmness of their "centre for social life." And young Mr O'Leary, as is well known, went on to become a Cabinet Minister, Leader of the Labour Party, etc., etc.
No-one would have enjoyed this zaniness more than one of Mr Daly's predecessors, the rambunctious Matthew H. McCloskey, Jr, but he had returned to the United States a couple of years previously following the assassination of his great friend, John F. Kennedy. During his term in Dublin McCloskey stood out like a multi-coloured neon light against the uniform greyness of the Diplomatic Corps. He was a master builder by trade and a master politician by instinct. His pursuit of dollars for the Democratic Party was matched in enthusiasm and effort only by his pursuit of government contracts for his Philadelphia building firm.
Kennedy campaign
Experts estimated that in his 30 years of fund-raising he collected at least $35 million for the Democrats. He claimed to have invented the $100-a-plate dinner as far back as 1934. His greatest feat was raising $11.5 million for John F. Kennedy's successful Presidential campaign in 1960 (the Democrats' campaign in 1956 had cost a modest $5 million). After the election, the ambassador was fond of recalling, Kennedy asked him about the state of the party's finances and was horrified to hear that $4.5 million in bills still had to be paid. "Jesus, Matt," said Kennedy, "what we would we have done if we had lost?" To which Matt retorted: "What do you mean, `we' ? I had a one-way ticket to Mexico."
After taking over in the White House the grateful President sent for his fundraiser. "I'd like to do something for you Matt," he said. "Send me to Ireland," McCloskey replied without hesitation. In the first year of the Kennedy administration McCloskey's company was awarded a mysterious and highly profitable government contract. Reporting from Washington, the Wall Street Journal said: "A fascinating building tucked away in the south-east sector of this growing capital is, to the aesthetic eye, typical of much local architecture - white, cold, uninspired. Its appeal lies not its beauty but in its mystery. Chain-link fencing bars the unwanted, windows of brownish glass prohibit penetrating vision and government officialdom shuns discussion of the project, saying that it's classified." It emerged later that it was the new headquarters for the Central Intelligence Agency and McCloskey had got the job without tender or competition.
Army hospital
Not all his government projects were so successful. Under President Truman's administration McCloskey had won the $11 million contract to build an army hospital near Boston. Within a year of its opening, the outer walls cracked and the window frames buckled. The Justice Department sued the company for defective workmanship. The future ambassador was philosophical about the whole thing: "You can't be in business all the years I've been and not run into a few headaches."
One of McCloskey's last diplomatic tasks was to accompany President de Valera on his official visit to the US in 1964. During a stop at Boston Airport to meet members of the Irish community the President was greeted with an eight-gun salute by the local militia. I was covering the visit for this paper. "Your President merits a 16-gun salute," a Washington official attached to the party told me. "But the terminal building was built by McCloskey and we didn't think it would stand the shock."