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Rosemary Rice: a lifetime of commitment and inspiration
RUNNING an election ‘committee room’ is no easy task. People are constantly coming in and out. The first task is to slave-drive activists to ‘knock up’ the vote – that is, to knock on the doors of your supporters and make sure they go to polling station. But if you’ve got a load of supporters who haven’t done something like this before, you need to make sure they keep coming back.
And a messy kitchen full of shouting, discarded leaflets and standing room only isn’t the best advert for political activity.
But on 5th May 2010, when we were fighting to re-elect the Labour government and Frank Dobson, as well as take Highgate ward back from the Greens, this was far from what I found at St Alban’s Road, the ward headquarters for the day.
For this was the home of Rosemary Rice, who died at the end of last week from motor neurone disease. There are so many in the Labour party who knew her better, but in the year that I knew her, I could not have seen more of her warmth, generosity, commitment and capacity for inspiration.
We were hardly in the best of spirits on that election day. Labour hadn’t led in an opinion poll for the best part of two years, Cleggmania (who’d have thunk it!) was at an all-time high, and when we canvassed, the attitude seemed to be that there was no reason why people shouldn’t vote for the Green candidates in the local elections.
But Rosemary kept our spirits up that day. As she raced around the house, making sure everyone was looked after, you could see it was in her blood. For she had run committee rooms for decades, and had ran the successful campaigns of Jock Stallard, Glenda Jackson and Frank Dobson in her time.
One of the highlights of the day was the incredible array of food she had prepared – all wise activists knows that being well fed lifts the spirits, but not all are prepared to facilitate this! When I arrived just after midday, the smell of Chile con Carne and delicious salads were already filling the air.
Rosemary was upfront about her illness, which she was diagnosed with shortly after retiring from her teaching job at Kentish Town primary school, where she taught for four decades. But as I saw her at various points in the coming months, she continued to be active, attending branch meetings and socials, and peddling up Highgate Road on her bike from Kentish Town.
I soon discovered that several of my friends had been taught by Rosemary at Kentish Town, and had found her to be as inspirational as I imagined. No wonder she was awarded the MBE for services to education.
I can’t do justice to such a wholesome life having only known Rosemary for 18 months, so I’d recommend Dan Carrier’s obituary in this week’s Camden New Journal. Incidentally, on the day we first met, she told me a great story about Dan…
It was a pleasure to have known Rosemary, who lit up the committee room on that May Thursday, which had the potential to be so morbid. Like in the many elections before, she played a great part in securing victory – not nationally, alas, but that election saw Frank Dobson’s majority doubled and Labour take back the council from a right-wing coalition. For us at St Alban’s Road, the jewel in the crown was seeing two of the Highgate council seats return to red.
Rest in peace.
Photograph: Camden New Journal
A tribute to Ellen Luby – grand heckler of Camden
When I attended Ken Livingstone’s Progressive London conference earlier this year, I knew there was one episode I would never forget. When Ken had finished taking questions for Harriet Harman from the audience (for she too was on the platform), an elderly woman about ten rows back stood up. “I’ve got a question for you, Ken,” she shouted to Livingstone. A wry smile appeared on Ken’s face as he responded with a mixture of annoyance and affection: “You’ve been shouting at me for 30 years.” The woman then started a lecture about the power of private business. Not entirely relevant to the discussion, but nonetheless interesting.
This woman was Ellen Luby, and she passed away earlier today. I was intrigued by her exchange with Ken, and looked into her a little. My brother Axel told me he’d met her before at a Camden council meeting where officers had prevented her from entering the public gallery due to her persistent heckling. It’s likely Ken first met her when he was elected a Camden councillor in 1978. Her heckling was so persistent, indeed, that at the start of the Lib Dems’ 4-year ‘temporary stewardship’ of the Town Hall she was manhandled out of the council chamber’s public gallery by police officers, who had been called to deal with some younger hecklers. She was hurt in the fracas, but nevertheless continued to attend and heckle council meetings up until very near her death.
The second time I met her was the last full council meeting before the local elections – the first such meeting I had attended – I was part of the Camden New Journal’s press box delegation. She made a number of interesting, but in Deputy Mayor Lulu Mitchell’s eyes, time-consuming interjections – and was threatened with removal at least once, with security issuing several warnings. However, the best of all was when, after getting fed up with lengthy proceedings, she decided to leave – but Ellen Luby couldn’t go quietly. “I’m going now,” she announced to councillors, before issuing some words of warning, the subject of which I can’t recall.
I was unable to attend the meeting at which Jonathan Simpson was made mayor of Camden in May, but nevertheless heard that Luby issued her usual dose of interjections – and heard some harsh words in response from ex-Mayor Jill Fraser. I’d hoped to go to another meeting of the council, one of the attractions being to hear Luby’s oratory, definitely more entertaining and passionate than that of some councillors. But although I never met Ellen in person, I can pay tribute to what I heard, and it was always of a passionate spirit.
I’ll leave biographical details to Richard Osley and Dan Carrier’s reporting in the Camden New Journal tomorrow, where I’m sure they’ll be much more of interest which I never discovered. The sad fact is that not many nowadays have enough interest in local government meetings to attend, let alone give the heckling which brings politicians back down to earth even if it is tiresome – interestingly, both Andy Burnham and his Labour colleague Tom Watson have raised the value of this in recent weeks. I really hope someone arrives at the Town Hall soon to take over the reigns…
I suggested to a friend earlier that “Cllr Luby” be granted the honours given to councillors on their death – tributes paid at the start of council meetings, and of course, a minute’s silence. He, who also knew Ellen in a similar way, albeit for a longer period, suggested a minute’s shouting would be more in the Luby spirit…
Conrad Landin 