CHRIS Wall had a spring in his step as he walked out of Government buildings. It was midnight on a crisp November evening and he had a few phone calls to make. Bertie said he wanted "certain people" to be present in the Dail the next day when he was elected Taoiseach. Would Chris see to it?
No problem Bertie, said Chris, his closest political ally and member the Fianna Fail National Executive.
At 10 minutes to three that morning, Chris was called to the phone.
"It's all over," said his friend, the Taoiseach in waiting. "The guy has pulled the plug on me".
Chris Wall says that Bertie Ahern, (Taoiseach in waiting for definite this time) has spent every waking moment of the last two and a half years making plans to redress this early morning scenario. F. Scott Fitzgerald defined vitality as not only the ability to persist but "the ability to start over". Vitality - Bertie Ahern possesses it in spades.
When the Dail meets on June 26th and the man from Drumcondra is elected Taoiseach, pundits will no doubt reflect on the variously paved paths that have led Ahern to this point. Gone is the hesitant, uncertain Bertie Ahern of his early political career. The undeniable charisma is no longer so dishevelled. Unkempt locks have been trimmed and the trademark anoraks traded in for a selection of well cut suits.
Louis Copeland has been instrumental in the transformation but it was a natural process, say observers: "Bertie has a chameleon like quality," says a senior Fianna Fail source. "It allows him to take on the colours of the people he mixes with. This he has done especially since he became party leader."
His accent and demeanor have altered noticeably, too. In recent weeks he appears to have developed a statesmanlike stride. His Dublin twang has become less pronounced, although in the heat of debate you are still likely to hear him talk about the complexities of "economic growt". Most though, are happy that he has retained his quintessentially Dublin accent. They quote Bertie's one time mentor Charles Haughey, who maintained that a true Dubliner didn't exist who could pronounce "th" correctly.
"It hasn't been so much a transformation away from something but to something," according to a long term adviser. "The imagebuilders try to pepper his speeches with quotes from Shakespeare forgetting that this man reads a lot, and has a whole canon of references of his own." He argues that within Fianna Fail some people are slightly ashamed" of their leader's rough edges. "But this is a bright man.
They want to impose a certain perception of statesmanship on him instead of building on his considerable existing qualities."
These, according to supporters, are his "warmth, confidence, energy and genuine ability to listen". All four were on show during this gruelling three week campaign. In this context, Election 97 was something of an unevenly pitched contest. On one side we had the all singing, all dancing Bertie, on the other stood the wooden, slightly uncomfortable figure of John Bruton. The Fine Gael leader stood by the Rock of Cashel. Bertie was embraced by "Rocky" Stallone.
"I have been with most of the political leaders over the years and I have seen nothing like the response he got all over the country," says RTE's special correspondent Charlie Bird, who rejects the criticism level led at his TV coverage of the putative Taoiseach's campaign. "The name Bertie is a catch all, like Charlie. It was `Bertie give us a hug' or, `Bertie give us a kiss'. He never seemed to flag. I must have around 50 minutes of film just of him kissing people."
The most spectacular of those being "that kiss", one of the enduring images of the election campaign. The photograph that made the front page of this newspaper showing Bertie, eyes tightly shut, caught in a clinch with a young female supporter at a canvass in Galway: "It wasn't on the mouth," insisted the student in question on radio's Liveline. "It shows that Bertie is attractive to the young people of Ireland."
Quite. That "young leader for a young country" slogan was taken with a sack of salt by most, but Bertie (47) adores the more deserved "man of the people" tag. Ordinary Ahern, clearly more comfortable shaking hands in a cattle mart than sweating it out, script in hand in the Dail. "He is at his best when he speaks from the heart," says one politico. "He knows what he is trying to say and when it comes out right it really works."
He used this strength to great effect during the election campaign. Here was a man for all sectors of the electorate. For the Corkonians he was a second generation Corkman and his presence in the county recalled the heady days of Jack Lynch. For the farmers, sure wasn't he a bona fide farmer's son? Meanwhile the Dubliners knew that deep down he was a city boy, born and bred in Drumcondra, as proud a Northside Dub as you could find.
This wooing of the masses had a disconcerting affect on John Bruton who attempted to start a political bun fight calling Ahern "the most overestimated man in Irish politics". Wisely, Bertie refused to play, choosing instead to continue on his fleshpressing marathon saying simply of Bruton, "God Bless him. I hope he doesn't get too distracted."
This is typical of Ahern, who some say is the only Fianna Fail politician around who lacks the punitive instinct for so long associated with his party. It has allowed him, however temporarily, to rid the party of some of its "culture of strokes" baggage.
He is obsessed with the minutiae of political life, and has been ever since the days he was dubbed "director of lamppost boys" at 14 during the 1965 election. His late father was an old IRA man and once introduced to the cut and thrust of local politics Bertie never looked back. He studied accountancy at night while working in Bord Bainne and was elected to the Dail at the age of 26. As a teenager he cultivated a close circle of 20 or so friends, most of whom remain close to him today.
They are understandably guarded when pressed on Ahern's personal life. He has always been up front about the fact that he is legally separated from his wife, Miriam. His time as Lord Mayor of Dublin in 1986 took its toll on their marriage, he has said. He has already confirmed that his partner Celia Larkin, who works in Ahern's constituency office, will accompany him on all official functions.
They are "an extraordinary pair of political people" says one acquaintance. "They have this acute notion of service to the public which can be quite surprising at times."
"He is probably the most committed to the Catholic religion of any party leader," says a friend, suggesting the moral dilemma faced by Ahern in coming out in support of divorce. He goes to Mass every Saturday evening in the Pro Cathedral and has visited Lourdes with his 84 year old mother, Julia.
DESPITE the break up of his marriage, insiders agree that he has never been anything except a devoted father to his two children, Georgina (18) and Cecilia (16). They were deeply involved in sprucing up the image their father presents to the public.
Given Bertie's passion for sport he and Georgina's current boyfriend Nicky Byrne, a reserve goal keeper with Leeds United, should find plenty to talk about. The Fianna Fail leader is a "mad Dubs fan" but also follows Manchester United, Glasgow Celtic and, bizarrely, Hull City. He cheers on Bohs from the terraces in Dalymount Park. Apart from being Taoiseach, his other ambition is to see Drumcondra FC compete in the National League.
So the would be Taoiseach obviously has a sense of hum our. Remember when he asked Ruairi Quinn (whom he admires) to "slip in" a provision for extending the deadline for the ending of duty free to 2010? Friends say the campaign - the most fun ever" - was interspersed with practical jokes. He is consistent. In an interview in Hot Press magazine 10 years ago (reprinted in the current issue) he spoke of his favourite tipple, which remains the only alcoholic beverage he ever drinks.
"I have a rule that I only drink one type of drink," he said. "I drink Bass. I enjoy a drink. .. If there is Bass around I'm immune to the bloody stuff regardless of the breathalyser".
They called him Barrel of Bass Bertie for a while after that, but he gave up his beloved pints for the duration of the campaign.
It was this teetotal approach combined with daily jogging in the grounds of All Hallows college in Drumcondra which may have sustained him in recent weeks. He goes for walks quite regularly to the college grounds where his father worked as farm manager. (Dick Spring's remark that Ahern's father was a gardener was deeply resented in the Fianna Fail camp.) He is known for mulling things over in private and is regarded as an increasingly self reliant individual.
"If, for example, he makes a deal with the PDs that people feel gives too much away, he will not care about the criticism," says an associate. This ability to choose a path and stick resolutely to it prompted the famous Haughey comment that Ahern was "the most ruthless, the most devious, the most cunning of them all".
Asked to predict which of Bertie Ahern's shortcomings is most likely to, trip him up in office a number pointed to his "desire to avoid confrontation". "He will need to make a considerable shift in the people he has around him. The ones that have advised him on Drumcondra may not be the ones that should be advising him on matters of national interest," says one observer.
But Bertie is nothing if not loyal, says Chris Wall, who is often by his side when "the gang" congregates in its local, Kennedy's of Drumcondra. Hot political potatoes will be inevitable, but there is "no better man" says Wall, to "get to the root of the problem".
And despite Bertie's makeover, image could still turn out to be a sticking point.
"He is not yet sophisticated enough in speech or in presence to command respect when he walks into a room," says a prominent public relations consultant. "He will need to pay careful attention to this in office. He needs to be aware of his limitations so that he doesn't end up being constantly exposed by them."
New suits, old Bertie? Only time will tell if the clothes maketh the man.