Graeme Allan
- an appreciation
The CWU lost one of
its great ‘characters’ when Graeme Allan passed away, at the age of 57, on 3rd
November.
Graeme had
been a Post Office and BT engineer, branch secretary of the Aberdeen engineering branch and a member of the National Communications Union (NCU) and Communication Workers Union (CWU) national executive councils.
A
larger-than-life individual, with his strong build and booming Aberdeen accent, no-one could be in his vicinity and be unaware of him. Graeme said that he’d served two apprenticeships,
one as a telephone engineer, the other as a stalwart, from the 60s and 70s, of
the renowned Aberdeen Folk Club, a
crucible in the revival of the Scots tradition in song and writing. Graeme of course could speak and write
perfect English, but took great pride in the richness of the Doric, the
language of first choice in North East Scotland.
The leftward
radicalisation of the 1970s, and local circumstances in the branch, propelled
Graeme to national notice at the conferences of the Post Office Engineering
Union (POEU). The big issues for
engineers at that time were the shorter working week campaign (engineers worked
longer hours than other grades), and the long-term concerns about the impact of
technological change. However, we had
the safety net of a Labour government at the time – new reforming health and
safety legislation had been introduced, and the Equal Pay act was being phased
in. Privatisation seemed a long way
away.
The 80s were
traumatic. The Thatcher government did
not have a manifesto commitment to privatise BT – but it happened anyway, along
with a raft of liberalisation that undermined our old assumptions about job
planning and security. Graeme threw
himself into all of the campaigns to protect the interests of telecom
employees. Around this period he
developed his skills in articulating union policies through the media, and
wrote a popular booklet on media handling, published by the NCU, as a guide for
branch officers. Never an ‘engineering
chauvinist’, Graeme always worked closely with his clerical, operator and
postal colleagues long before the present union came together.
He hated Thatcher
with a vengeance and for a long time was actively involved in not just the
union, but the Aberdeen trades council and the Labour Party. Graeme
was impossible to ‘pigeon-hole’, but he was on the left, probably somewhere
around the position of ‘Tribune’. Looking
back, Graeme’s greatest political disappointment was probably the untimely
death of John Smith, a politician that he felt could be trusted. He kept up many of his old contacts in the
Labour Party, but was not terribly impressed with a Labour government that
allied itself with the Bush administration.
He spent some years
on the executive of the NCU and the CWU, devoting much of his energy to union
education, particularly in encouraging new activists to develop the confidence
and skills to take on greater responsibilities.
This was his forte – he had an encouraging manner and very clearly
developed and delivered the themes for his seminars. Many of today’s activists have commented that
Graeme was able to find in them that seam of self-belief that allowed them to
make a contribution to the lives of working people.
Like everyone else,
Graeme’s life took its unexpected turns, but he always came through. In the 1990s he met Peggy Clarke and,
together, they enjoyed a very happy period following Graeme’s early retirement
form BT. They set up home in Strathdon,
later moving to Cullen, a fishing village on the Morayshire coast.
While in Strathdon,
he tried his hand at freelance journalism and photography, even getting a front
page picture of some scion of royalty in a national tabloid. Graeme took the pic, and hawked it round the
papers, not thinking much more of it.
However, some Fleet Street picture editor blew it up and spotted that
this royal’s car was minus a valid tax disc.
It would not be
unfair to Graeme’s memory to recall that he enjoyed a dram. In fact, for many years, ‘union socialising’
was part of Graeme’s life. While it takes
its toll on all of us, I shall always treasure the fun times at the impromptu
sessions – Graeme with John Barleycorn, a fag, a guitar, and a
traditional Scots song.
Graeme never claimed
to be a great musician – he called his technique the ‘three chord trick’, but
he played his guitar with a rock solid rhythm that was great for people on
other instruments. The range of his
songs was impressive; from a spirited version of the “Battle of Otterburn” about
events in 1388, he would seamlessly shift into “Jarama”
from the Spanish Civil War, rounded off with “Bandiera Rossa”, the anthem of
the Italian left.
But it wasn’t all
blood and guts. He loved a good parody,
and also had songs at the sentimental end of the range, once introducing a
particularly maudlin song by saying “The last time we played this, there were
two guys in the audience moved to tears.
I later found out they were professional musicians”. He had a self-deprecating sense of humour.
With a rich voice,
deep but with great range, and a remarkable ability to remember the words, he
was a much better musician than he gave himself credit for. But that was the man. Underneath his
occasional extrovert behaviour was a very sensitive, thoughtful, and probably
shy individual.
Graeme had spent some
time in hospital during the spring. He
had a good summer, but his health deteriorated quite quickly in the
autumn. He will be missed by his friends
in the union, and, above all, by Peggy and his family.
We have lost a
friend, union activist and socialist. It was fitting that the words of Robert
Burns were sung at Graeme’s funeral in his beloved Aberdeen:
Is
there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that
The coward slave we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
Our toils obscure an' a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The Man's the gowd for a' that
Then
let us pray that come it may
As come it will for a' that
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth
Shall bear the gree, and a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
It's comin' yet for a' that
That man to man, the world o'er
Shall brithers be for a' that"
Donald MacDonald
26 November 2004