Brian Cowen, licensed to rule, bore the look of a man who didn't quite believe his time at the helm had come, writes Miriam Lord
THE NAME is Cowen. Taoiseach Cowen.
Licensed to rule.
For a while, Brian Cowen bore the look of a man who didn't quite believe it.
The switch, when it came, was swift. It went unnoticed by many.
There was a lot of noise and activity in the chamber. Fianna Fáil deputies had just been through the lobbies to vote.
Some were already back in their places and talking loudly, others milling around the steps and floor.
All eyes were on Brian Cowen as he made his way to that brown leather seat at the beginning of the front row - that political happy ending to which many ambitious deputies aspire, but which very few manage to achieve.
At times like this, it is easy for a dark-suited backbencher to blend in with all the other dark-suited backbenchers serving as a mere backdrop to the man who is the centre of attention.
This was a special moment. Cowen turned and waved to his family in the Distinguished Visitors' Gallery - wife Mary, daughters Sinead and Maedhbh, mother May and mother-in-law Viney Molloy. Then he walked on down, past the darksuited backbencher sitting on the end of the second-last row. It was Bertie Ahern, who had slotted himself in beside renowned heckler, Johnny Brady from Meath, and Charlie "Mr Tallaght" O'Connor.
He last held a backbench position 25 years ago. The view from the cheap seats must have been a novelty, although as the afternoon wore on, Bertie looked increasingly like he was suffering from a bad attack of vertigo.
Taoiseach Cowen - the title would become official after his trip to Áras on Uachtarán - proceeded to the spot vacated by Ahern before the vote. He sat down, looking slightly embarrassed by all the attention, and exhaled deeply. He seemed overawed by the occasion.
And what an occasion it was. A wonderful, good news day in Leinster House.
Hostilities were purely for show, as deputies on all sides shared pleasure in the success of a popular colleague, while revelling in the colour and excitement that goes with one of the biggest and most special events in the life of any Dáil.
The public gallery was packed with Cowen supporters. Hundreds of them travelled to Dublin to cheer on Offaly's first Taoiseach. It was like an All-Ireland final day, with Cowenites who weren't lucky enough to have a ticket for Leinster House piling into a nearby hotel to toast their hero and watch his elevation on TV.
There was pandemonium on the plinth, bedlam in the bar. The place was a heaving mass of humanity that could only be safely braved by supporters sound in wind and limb.
Just to open the door invited a hot blast of hairspray fumes and perspiration. The restaurant was like nothing on earth.
The Cowenite women came dressed to the nines in designer best. And why not? There can't have been a bottle of spray tan left within a 50-mile radius of Tullamore.
Cowen came to see the Offalian overflow in the Alexander Hotel at lunchtime. They were ecstatic.
The Dáil chamber was full for the coronation. Mary Cowen arrived at the main doors with her two girls and they signed the visitors' book before they entered. They went inside to join Brian's brothers Christy and Barry and the proud mother and mother-in-law.
Just after 2.30, Bertie Ahern led in his troops for one last time. Immediately, the members of his officer corps marching behind were scrutinised for any signs that they expected to be promoted or demoted by the incoming general.
It was decided, on the basis of gloomy expressions and little else, that Martin Cullen, Éamon Ó Cuív and Mary Hanafin were possibly for the chop.
Mary Coughlan, Brian Lenihan and Noel Dempsey looked very happy. Good news, perhaps?
As it turned out in the end, the new Taoiseach Cowen introduced a radically unchanged new Cabinet.
Just a little shuffling around of the deckchairs, with no senior Minister losing out.
The opening business of the day concerned the election of a successor to Bertie Ahern. Enda Kenny and Eamon Gilmore were proposed by their respective parties. Neither man had a hope of winning, but that was neither here nor there.
It was to show that the Opposition still has a pulse.
Ahern sat in the seat that he would soon relinquish, looking absolutely desolate. Cowen was beside him. He looked very preoccupied by the magnitude of the challenge he was about to begin.
The two sat at angles to each other, bodies veering off in opposite directions. The Biff and The Bert, one dying to get started, the other dying to get away.
After all the speechifying, and the vote, Brian got his first chance to talk.
At 10 past four, the Ceann Comhairle called on the Taoiseach. Brian rose to his feet. His family leaned forward, the public gallery swooned and Taoiseach Cowen's career was on its way.
It was an emotional and passionate beginning. Taoiseach Cowen held it together well, until he neared the end and spoke about his family.
He remembered his late father and grandfather. At the mention of their names, his voice thickened, and he hesitated a little, voice beginning to quiver.
He went on, clearly overcome by the emotion of the occasion. His script trembled in his hand.
But he got through it, this great moment of destiny for him and his family, his friends and supporters, and Co Offaly.
It was a moment when even the cynics would have to concede that politics is a noble calling, and Cowen's reaction to the honour that had just been bestowed upon him was touching.
And then it was off to the President, but not before the supporters went wild outside in the car park and on the plinth, singing round after round of the Offaly Rover and laying siege to Brian's car.
It was the best of high spirits in the warmest of sunlight, and nobody could begrudge them their Offaly flags and enthusiasm.
When Brian finally made good his escape, the crowd rushed to another big name.
Bertie Ahern emerged on the steps, shaking hands and signing autographs. Gone was the glum man we saw earlier, slumped in his seat. It was like he saw his public, and the light inside went on. He stayed for ages.
What is he going to do?
Former taoiseach Albert Reynolds was among the crowd celebrating. With wife Kathleen, he applauded Brian's accession from the gallery.
Albert was a great friend of Brian's father Ber. He and his wife had flown in from New York yesterday morning to see Ber's son become Taoiseach.
"Ber stayed at my apartment the night before he died because there was a snowstorm. We talked all night. He was dead the following afternoon. I can't tell you how wonderful this day is."
Any advice for Brian?
"Just be yourself."