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Trim Sails. In 1957, after their children had grown up, Sean and Kathleen Lemass moved from their big old house in Dublin to an unpretentious seven-room bungalow in a pleasant suburb south of the capital, where the Prime Minister is picked up by a government car at 9:45 a.m. each day. He seldom returns until after dinner. Some years ago, Lemass cut down on golf and cards—to the relief of old poker cronies who usually wound up losers when Lemass played—to devote more time to the job. Sturdy (5 ft. 10 in.) and carefully groomed, he holds among his few foibles an aversion to the Byronic manes affected by many Irishmen, and he does not hesitate to bark at friends, underlings or his son when they need haircuts.
Some politicians criticize Lemass for being too much of a pragmatist. "He's a bit of a fly-boy," said Labor Party Leader James Larkin. "He trims his sails to different winds." The greatest challenge that Lemass has to face as a politician is to revitalize drab, unimaginative Fianna Fail, many of whose front-bench heroes of destiny have been around since Dev first came to office. Seven of the 13 members of the Lemass Cabinet are 60 or under, which is a relatively green age in Irish politics but hardly green enough.
Though he has little of the personal magnetism of Old Spellbinder Dev, the Quiet Man's drive to get Ireland into the world's markets and forums has attracted some of the bright, restive young Irishmen who are showing a revival of interest in politics.
Total Effort. Lemass' most bruising disappointment in office was Charles de Gaulle's rejection of British membership in the Common Market last year. Determined to take Ireland into Europe alongside Britain, Lemass had already started whittling tariff barriers to give Ireland's older and most cosseted industries a whiff of the cold competitive wind outside. To clear the way for Ireland's entry, which he now believes cannot come before 1970, Lemass has unequivocally committed his nation, which has 9,000 men under arms, to support of NATO policies. In 1949, at NATO's founding, the government declined membership with the legalistic argument that to join an alliance with Britain would be tantamount to recognition of Ulster, whose existence the republic has never accepted.