There was a similar sense of tragedy in 1974 but not yet the same sense of finality. In both cases a power-sharing executive bit the dust, but maybe this time it would only be temporary. The game was still on and negotiations were continuing: British government sources were confident the show could be put back on the road, although nationalists murmured darkly that London might end up looking foolish for acting prematurely.
It was typical of a confused and hectic day that there were conflicting versions from London and Sinn Fein as to who knew what and when. Reporters struggled to keep up with the fast-developing chain of events. First the statement of suspension from Mr Mandelson was said to be coming at 5 p.m.
As the minutes ticked away, a statement came, but from Sinn Fein, not the Secretary of State. Gerry Adams was heralding a breakthrough, but according to London sources the order to suspend had already been signed. Details of the Adams breakthrough were not immediately clear and shortly before 6 p.m. the Mandelson statement finally came out.
Republican sources muttered about conspiracy. The old alliance of unionists and Britain had connived to bring down the institutions. Meanwhile, London was suggesting that perhaps the suspension order had provided the jolt to galvanise republicans into action so that fancy footwork would be replaced by meaningful action.
The initial de Chastelain report came out, nearly two weeks late but every bit as stark as anticipated. A further report was on its way, but initial reports varied from "nothing sensational" to potentially seismic.
Senior sources had suggested earlier that the UUP leadership was anxious to have the suspension order announced in time for the six o'clock news so that delegates to the Ulster Unionist Council would know what was going on.
There was concern lest they should arrive at this morning's meeting at Belfast's Waterfront Hall in a grumpy and confused state. But given the reports of continuing activity after the Mandelson statement and the difficulty even seasoned observers were having "reading" the game, the sturdy farmers and shopkeepers may be, if not confused, certainly bemused as they take their seats. Over recent days, unionist spokesmen have tried to present the threat of suspension as a relatively minor matter, a bump in the road. The view from the republican side could not be more different: if suspension went ahead after all the progress made with the IRA, the process was probably doomed.
The one basic fact everyone agreed on was that there was no "product" from the IRA. Nationalists said the IRA was taking a step along the road that would lead eventually from ceasefire to the ending of its campaign. The British government and the unionists remained sceptical. As they saw it, there had been a lot of words and pieces of paper, but how real were the "negotiations" between Sinn Fein and the IRA? Words in private were one thing but what appeared in Gen de Chastelain's report was what mattered. Recent discussions between the IRA interlocutor and the decommissioning body had been thin on specifics. Republicans in general were accused of lacking urgency in their approach as the hours before the UUC meeting ticked away.
Instead of the sought-after clarity, London was "in the dark" and the unionists were equally unsure what republicans were at and what their intentions were.
Seamus Mallon pleaded publicly with the Secretary of State not to proceed with the suspension. At the same time he took a swipe at the republicans: his pointed questions to the IRA in the House of Commons, asking would they decommission and when would they do so, had formed the agenda for the assault on the republican position over the past week. There may be recrimination between the two main nationalist parties in the coming weeks.
Fevered activity continued last night but did not seem to be getting very far. A second de Chastelain report began to leak, reportedly stating that IRA representatives had come to see him to outline the context in which they would put weapons "beyond use" in a manner to ensure public confidence.
A joint communique from Dublin and London was awaited which would probably say that these matters could be discussed as part of the review.
Earlier, Dublin had been working flat out for a solution even at the last minute. A plan that was floated, for decommissioning in parallel with demilitarisation, had Dublin's fingerprints on it but insiders said the situation had moved beyond that.
Now the issue was not what the IRA would do on a small scale this week but what spectacular gesture of reconciliation it might be persuaded to make in a year or two. Dublin was getting it in the neck from every side: republicans reportedly felt double-crossed while unionists were said to be going "ballistic" over suggestions in the press that they could be pressurised to accept a plan initiated by Dublin.
The lean figure of Sir Josias Cunningham hovered over everything and the spectre of the UUC president striding towards the office of the Assembly Speaker, Lord Alderdice, to present Mr Trimble's letter of resignation was unionism's not-so-secret weapon throughout the proceedings.
After all the heaving throughout yesterday and the past few weeks two facts stood out. The brave new world born on Good Friday was now in limbo and the IRA had held onto its guns. Future historians may elicit the names of those who put it about that the IRA was going to decommission on January 16th last. It didn't happen and even mainstream sources in the peace process now believe it will probably never take place. Longtime observers of the republican scene warn that decommissioning would create the conditions for republican dissidents to prosper and the lives of Sinn Fein leaders would be in serious jeopardy. That is not to say a seismic shift will not take place eventually. But the time is out of joint.