STAR-SPANGLED SMILES IN TOWN BACK FROM DEAD
Star-spangled smiles in town back from dead
By MARTINA DEVLIN in Omagh
FACES so etched with grief you thought they might never smile again were wreathed in grins.
Voices choked with despair such a short time ago called out his name in excitement.
"Bill," they cried over and over again, stretching their children, their cameras and above all their hands, towards the American president.
Omagh set aside its mourning for an hour of sunshine and euphoria as Bill Clinton walked along the high street still scarred by a terrorist bomb yesterday evening.
The community that seemed reduced to a ghost town less than three weeks ago showed its resilience by lining the main street with 12,000 cheering locals.
The American leader arrived at the bomb site in sombre mood after a private meeting with relatives of the 28 dead as well as girls on crutches, women in plaster, men in black ties. His solemnity intensified as he gazed first at the skeletal remains of the shop where the explosion was detonated and then at the shattered buildings all around him.
President Clinton's expression was still stricken after he unveiled a memorial plaque and began walking with his wife Hillary towards the throng calling to him.
But halfway along that heaving mass of humanity, a transformation began to take place.
The President allowed himself to smile cautiously at first and then more easily as people's genuine delight in his presence seeped through to him. Over and over again he said "God bless you" to the locals who queued up to six hours for a few seconds of contact with him.
Ahead was Tony Blair and his wife Cherie, while Hillary Clinton led the way towards a floral shrine at Wattersons shop, which lost three members of staff.
But Bill Clinton lagged ever further behind for he seemed determined to shake each hand that reached out to him, to sign each piece of paper thrust towards him, to look into the lens of each camera.
The presidential limousine, with its fluttering stars and stripes, was trailing him at a snail's pace but still it constantly threatened to overtake Mr Clinton.
Forty-five minutes it took him to walk a few hundred yards and even his Secret Service agents could not believe how slowly he moved. "Does he really think he can shake every single hand?" whispered one minder to another. And the president gave it his best shot.
The president was visibly affected as he came to a party of children from Buncrana's Scoil losagain, attended by two of the slaughtered Donegal boys. The president took each child by the hand, including eight-year-old Colin McElhinny, best friend to Oran Doherty, one of the 28 victims.
This noisy reception on the streets of Omagh was in stark contrast to the stillness that met President Clinton when he spoke to sorrowing families earlier at the leisure centre.
"He was certainly moved and spent quite some time talking to the relatives," said national security adviser Sandy Berger. "When he spoke the silence in that room was absolute - even the children, who had been crying and laughing earlier, were quiet."
But Mr Clinton seemed reluctant to turn his back on the laughing, lively crowd he met on High Street afterwards.
Cherie Blair had kissed her husband goodbye. Tony Blair and he had grasped shoulders. Hillary waited in the bulletproof car, and still President Clinton hesitated.
He shaded his eyes towards the multitude and called one final "God bless you."
Finally the car door closed on him and minutes later a helicopter whirred overhead.
Little Colin McElhinny who had just been talking about Oran Doherty and how much he missed playing with him, paused to watch that helicopter.
And he smiled. A smile that was reflected on nearly every face in Omagh.
By MARTINA DEVLIN in Omagh
FACES so etched with grief you thought they might never smile again were wreathed in grins.
Voices choked with despair such a short time ago called out his name in excitement.
"Bill," they cried over and over again, stretching their children, their cameras and above all their hands, towards the American president.
Omagh set aside its mourning for an hour of sunshine and euphoria as Bill Clinton walked along the high street still scarred by a terrorist bomb yesterday evening.
The community that seemed reduced to a ghost town less than three weeks ago showed its resilience by lining the main street with 12,000 cheering locals.
The American leader arrived at the bomb site in sombre mood after a private meeting with relatives of the 28 dead as well as girls on crutches, women in plaster, men in black ties. His solemnity intensified as he gazed first at the skeletal remains of the shop where the explosion was detonated and then at the shattered buildings all around him.
President Clinton's expression was still stricken after he unveiled a memorial plaque and began walking with his wife Hillary towards the throng calling to him.
But halfway along that heaving mass of humanity, a transformation began to take place.
The President allowed himself to smile cautiously at first and then more easily as people's genuine delight in his presence seeped through to him. Over and over again he said "God bless you" to the locals who queued up to six hours for a few seconds of contact with him.
Ahead was Tony Blair and his wife Cherie, while Hillary Clinton led the way towards a floral shrine at Wattersons shop, which lost three members of staff.
But Bill Clinton lagged ever further behind for he seemed determined to shake each hand that reached out to him, to sign each piece of paper thrust towards him, to look into the lens of each camera.
The presidential limousine, with its fluttering stars and stripes, was trailing him at a snail's pace but still it constantly threatened to overtake Mr Clinton.
Forty-five minutes it took him to walk a few hundred yards and even his Secret Service agents could not believe how slowly he moved. "Does he really think he can shake every single hand?" whispered one minder to another. And the president gave it his best shot.
The president was visibly affected as he came to a party of children from Buncrana's Scoil losagain, attended by two of the slaughtered Donegal boys. The president took each child by the hand, including eight-year-old Colin McElhinny, best friend to Oran Doherty, one of the 28 victims.
This noisy reception on the streets of Omagh was in stark contrast to the stillness that met President Clinton when he spoke to sorrowing families earlier at the leisure centre.
"He was certainly moved and spent quite some time talking to the relatives," said national security adviser Sandy Berger. "When he spoke the silence in that room was absolute - even the children, who had been crying and laughing earlier, were quiet."
But Mr Clinton seemed reluctant to turn his back on the laughing, lively crowd he met on High Street afterwards.
Cherie Blair had kissed her husband goodbye. Tony Blair and he had grasped shoulders. Hillary waited in the bulletproof car, and still President Clinton hesitated.
He shaded his eyes towards the multitude and called one final "God bless you."
Finally the car door closed on him and minutes later a helicopter whirred overhead.
Little Colin McElhinny who had just been talking about Oran Doherty and how much he missed playing with him, paused to watch that helicopter.
And he smiled. A smile that was reflected on nearly every face in Omagh.
Further Information
Publisher: IRISH INDEPENDENT
Ref: II/228
Published Date: 04-Sep-98
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