Tributes to Baroness Boothroyd

Lindsay Hoyle Excerpts

Tuesday 28th February 2023 Commons Chamber

[Mr Speaker]

I informed the House yesterday that there would be an opportunity today for Members to pay tribute to the former Speaker of the House, Baroness Boothroyd.

When Baroness Boothroyd announced that she was to retire as Speaker of the House of Commons in 2000, there was an audible groan among Members. “Be happy for me,” she appealed, with a twinkle in her eye, but it was not a happy occasion for many of us, who had held her in such deep affection. So yesterday, when her passing was announced formally, there was shock and sadness all around, because Betty was one of a kind. She was not only the first woman Speaker, but a force to be reckoned with.

The only child of two textile workers, Betty was born in Dewsbury, Yorkshire. She was first a dancer in the popular Tiller Girls troupe, before turning her attention to politics—and thank goodness she did. Having worked as an assistant to Labour MPs, including Barbara Castle, and spending time in the United States observing the Kennedy campaign, she contested four seats unsuccessfully before finally, in 1973, being elected in West Bromwich, a seat that she held for 27 years.

As well as being an effective and active constituency MP, Betty served as an assistant Government Whip, and as a Member of the European Parliament at the same time as being an MP, as well as being a member of Labour’s national executive committee—where she met my father, Doug Hoyle, who was on the opposite side of the NEC in those days—and, of course, becoming Deputy Speaker, under Speaker “Jack” Weatherill.

But all that changed in 1992, when Betty was elected to the role that she was made for, and that we all remember her for: that of Speaker. It was a role that she held for eight years. She was there when I was elected as the Member of Parliament for Chorley in 1997. She was there again in the House of Commons, supporting me when I was elected Speaker in 2019. She was forthright, fair, strong and certainly no pushover. She commanded respect across the House, and we knew it and gave her that respect. She was expert in keeping us all in check one minute, and then offering help to a newcomer the next, be it an MP, a staff member or, indeed, a Deputy Speaker.

As I am a proud Lancastrian and Betty was a proud Yorkshirewoman, there was always friendly rivalry between the red rose and the white rose, but we were always united when it came to the south. When I became Speaker, she regularly, and rightly, offered me advice, whether I wanted it or not, but it was always well-meaning—well, I hoped it was, anyway. “Lovey, you’re doing very well, but...” she would tell me during our many calls and meetings. She was quite interesting when she telephoned. She would ask, “Is that you, Helen?” “No, it’s Jo.” “Well, I don’t want you; I want Helen—you’d better get her.” Then she would say, “Just tell him I want dinner tonight, because I’ve some advice for him.” That was Betty, and that was why we loved her.

Like me, Betty believed in the formality of the role of Speaker and the attire that goes with it, apart from the wig, which she refused to wear—a tradition that I have gladly continued.

Let us begin to think back. Betty was known for travel, both professional and personal. Cyprus was her favourite holiday destination, a place where she famously took up paragliding in her 60s. But she was also the perfect host in Westminster, be it at a singalong around the piano in Speaker’s House with parliamentary colleagues—Speaker’s House was well known for its receptions—or welcoming international guests. Who can forget Madam Speaker walking down the steps of Westminster Hall in 1996 holding the hand of Nelson Mandela, the South African President. She was there to make sure the House was truly represented. That sense of humanity is what endeared us all to Betty.

One of Betty’s trademark appeals to Members who took too long to get their words out during Prime Minister’s questions was, “Time’s up!” Well, Madam Speaker, we are devastated that your time is up, but on behalf of us all, let me say that you will never be forgotten. You made history, so please rest in peace.

[The Leader of the House of Commons (Penny Mordaunt)]

I rise on behalf of His Majesty’s Government to pay tribute to a remarkable figure. I know how many will be affected by this sad news of her passing and I know that the whole House will want to send their thoughts and prayers to her dearest. I was two months old when Betty was elected to this place on her fifth attempt. By my reckoning, fewer than 30 of our current right hon. and hon. Members were contemporaries of hers—I can see many of them in the Chamber today—yet we all knew her. We knew her before we arrived here. We knew her before she wrote to us, talked to us, encouraged us and made us laugh.

There are few political figures who get cut-through with the public, but she was one of them. It was not just her features or her fantastic voice that were recognised; we all knew what she stood for. Hers was a character that was forceful enough to transcend time, Parliaments, partisanship and generations. It was who she was and what she did; her trailblazing legacy not just as the first woman Speaker, but the first from the Opposition Benches. She was of a generation who took ground for women’s progress. She had been inspired by vinegar and gunpowder. She was a moderniser—she demystified. Her 50-year parliamentary career and all she did for national life, in particular for women, inspired and paved the way for future generations, but also she commemorated and got credit for those who had gone before her. She felt keenly that the privileges of this House were dearly won in toil and sacrifice, and the monument to the women of the second world war stands in great part because of her.

But it was not just her considerable achievements that made her recognisable; there was something more. It was how she made us feel. Like the Pennines from which she hailed, she gave our nation backbone. She gave us courage, because she reminded us that we were no cowards. Her warmth, entertainment and no-nonsense approach helped to restore trust. She made this place accessible, and she commanded us with the salty glamour of a pub landlady: “Time’s up!” Her gritty pragmatism sat comfortably alongside her optimism and hope and a deep faith in future generations.

She gave us confidence and pride in this place, and that was no accident. She wanted to give all a chance because she had cherished every chance that she had been given. For me, that care was evident in a particular letter she wrote to me after I had proposed the Loyal Address in 2014, and I was so grateful for it. She concluded that she wanted me to “flourish”—not just to be successful or to do well or to get on, but to flourish, to excel, to be all I could be, to have a ruddy good time doing it and to understand what my purpose was. She knew her purpose: “I speak to serve”, she said, and she served us well. May she rest in peace, and may these tributes to her remind us all of the responsibility and the opportunity it is our privilege to have. Thank you, Betty.

[Mr Speaker]

I call the shadow Leader of the House.

--- Later in debate ---

[Mrs Theresa May (Maidenhead) (Con)]

It is with great sadness that all of us will rise today to pay tribute to the late Baroness Boothroyd, and our condolences are with her family and friends.

To go from high-kicking on the theatrical stage to mastery of the tumultuous stage of the House of Commons is quite a journey. As the woman who broke that glass ceiling to become the first woman Speaker in 700 years, Betty Boothroyd will always have her place in history but, as the shadow Leader of the House said, for those of us who served in this Chamber when Betty was Speaker, we remember not just her historic achievement but the manner in which she conducted her role. She always knew the right point to intervene with a witty remark, a sense of humour, a gentle put down or a strong rebuke, and from Betty the rebukes could be very strong.

When I came to this House in 1997, there was a new Conservative Member who had been very successful in business. Indeed, he had been fêted as a very successful businessman. On the day on which I and a number of my colleagues were called to make our maiden speeches, he rose time and again but was not called. In fact, it was some weeks later that he made his maiden speech. I always thought that was just Betty saying, “It doesn’t matter how important you have been elsewhere, it is what you are in here that matters.” It was about her love of this House of Commons and her belief in Parliament.

For so many years of her life, Betty devoted her time to politics, to social justice and to where her heart was in politics—the Labour party—but she really loved this place and she believed in democracy. She supported this place when she was Speaker, she upheld its traditions and its standards, and she enhanced the role of Speaker of this House of Commons.

But she was not just a strong Speaker, she was a woman of warmth, fun and entertainment. I remember the soirees in Speaker’s House that brought together friends and MPs. The singing around the piano has already been mentioned, and it created a great sense of camaraderie among those who would otherwise have been exchanging sharp remarks across the Chamber. She brought people together. Her warmth was important, and she reminded us of the importance in this place of humanity, which she showed so well through everything she did.

I consider it a privilege to have known Betty Boothroyd, and I consider it an honour to have served in this Chamber under her Speakership. May she rest in peace. We will always remember a remarkable, amazing, impressive woman.

[Mr Speaker]

I call the Mother of the House.

--- Later in debate ---

[Sir Julian Lewis (New Forest East) (Con)]

If I may, Mr Speaker, I will share with the House just two personal anecdotes of my experience with the late, great Betty Boothroyd. The first occurred in May 1997, on the day of my swearing in—at least, I hoped it would be the day of my swearing in, because I had inquired, checked and double-checked that on that day the new intake MPs were to be sworn in. As it was my first time, my father, Sam, had come from Swansea in south Wales. He had caught the train on time, it had arrived on time and I had picked him up on time, so I knew that something was bound to go wrong. No sooner had I got him settled in the Gallery than the then Deputy Chief Whip told me that there had been a change of plan and the previous MPs were to be sworn in on that day; the new MPs would be sworn in on subsequent days. However, he said that I could go and have a word with the Speaker’s Secretary—the gentleman at the time who was standing by the Chair. I did that, and he understood and said, “You can go on the end of the queue and be sworn in when all the pre-existing MPs have done so.”

For the benefit of anyone watching these tributes who does not know the procedure, I should say that one lines up, takes the Oath at the Dispatch Box, signs the register and shakes hands with the Speaker, with whom one has a gentle exchange of words. In my gentle exchange of words, I said that I was so pleased that it had been possible to be sworn in on that day as my father was 84 and he had come 200 miles to see it. Betty paused, looked up at the Gallery, spotted this gentleman with silver hair who was beaming and looking very proud of being part of this wonderful occasion, and said, “Is that him up there?” When I said that it was, she said, “Well, strictly speaking, we are not allowed to make reference to anyone outside the boundaries of the Chamber itself. But as it is a special occasion, let’s give him a wave.” So Betty the Speaker and I gave my dad a big wave.

The second anecdote I would like to share is from June 2000. As a result of a debate on the armed forces, I was in the proud position of welcoming four second world war veterans of the Fleet Air Arm, all of whom had been decorated with distinguished service orders, conspicuous gallantry medals or, in one case, the distinguished service medal for their participation in near suicidal attacks on the German battlefleet going up the channel in 1942 or on Japanese-supplying oil refineries in Sumatra in 1945. I thought that it would be nice to get some extra tickets so that they and their wives could attend Prime Minister’s questions. I went along to the Speaker’s Office and, when I explained the situation, the member of staff graciously said, “Yes, of course you can have these extra tickets, but why not bring them round, because I am sure Madam Speaker will want to see them.”

Not only did she want to see them, not only did she give them a personal tour of the Speaker’s apartments, but at the end of it all she made a little oration to them that was perfectly judged. We must remember that, in their day, these elderly gents had been heroes of the second world war, but many, many years had gone by and most people of that generation did not even know about the channel dash raid or the Palembang oil refineries raid. She said, “I want to thank you, because, without what you and your comrades did, we would not have a free Parliament today.” Impishly, she added, “And with my views, I would probably have ended up in a concentration camp.” Quick as a flash, Pat Kingsmill DSO said, “Yes, but we would have been in there right alongside you all the way.” I could see the backbones of these four elderly gentlemen straightening because of the way that they had been inspired by the empathy, the kindness and the dignity of this wonderful woman.

I close by reminding the House that I was one of hundreds of MPs. Those are my two anecdotes, and if some of those hundreds were here, they could tell many more.

[Mr Speaker]

Let us go to somebody who is a serving neighbour.

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[Dame Margaret Hodge (Barking) (Lab)]

I agree with my right hon. Friend the Member for Warley (John Spellar) that today should be about celebrating a long life well lived, which is how I remember Betty. She is probably, of her generation, one of the most loved and will be longest remembered for her contribution to politics, particularly here in Westminster. I have strong memories of her keeping us in the most definite order and ensuring that the traditions of the House were well respected. The fact that she was the woman who broke a piece of the glass ceiling by becoming our first female Speaker earns her that well-deserved place in history, but it was not simply that she secured the position; it was how she used it.

She brought her theatrical talent from her time as a Tiller girl to the task of being Speaker of the House. Some of us will remember that those were the early days of televising the House. Her strong, charismatic and theatrical manner and her occasionally very funny approach to the role made her a national treasure and helped Parliament, because it helped to grow interest in what was happening in Parliament, so that people started watching us on television.

It was tough to be a woman in the House when she was first elected as one of 23 women MPs. She was, I think, one of the generation who felt they had to outperform the men to make any progress. I would not describe her as a sister, but I do remember that she was responsible for the most revolutionary thing in those days: she introduced vending machines to sell tights. Those of us who were the revolutionary feminists and always caught our tights on the wood right across the Palace were really grateful for that. She also made sure that there were more women’s lavatories close to the Chamber.

Her success in securing the position was radical, but she was a very firm traditionalist. What we wore, how we dressed and how we behaved in the House were all really important to her. As my hon. Friend the Member for Wallasey (Dame Angela Eagle) said, she looked regal in the Speaker’s robes. I remember that the very first time I spoke in the House, I was sitting around where I am now. I made my maiden speech and sat down, knowing that after we have listened to a couple of Members, we can go out and have a cup of tea with our adoring family who have come to watch us. I did that and then came back into the Chamber and sat in a different place. I did not realise that there was a tradition that we have to sit in the same place from which we have spoken, and I got right well told off by her, which was very deflating but typical of Betty. I do not know whether others remember the time that Simon Hughes was very long in asking a question—

[Mr Speaker]

Always!

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[Jim Shannon (Strangford) (DUP)]

It is with great sadness that we gather today to pay tribute to Betty Boothroyd. On behalf the Democratic Unionist party, and particularly our leader, my right hon. Friend the Member for Lagan Valley (Sir Jeffrey M. Donaldson), I express our sincere condolences to her family on the loss of this giant of a lady—she was truly a political giant.

I never had the privilege of sitting under Betty Boothroyd in this Chamber, but after listening to right hon. and hon. Members, I suspect that I would have been chastised and brought into line regularly by her, as I am by you, Mr Speaker, on many occasions. I love tradition and history and I am impressed that she loved history as well. I never met her, but I often saw her in the House of Lords—everyone knew her. She certainly had presence, poise and stature; to be honest, I was probably in awe of her, because I knew her reputation. She was a big character and a personality.

What a legacy Betty Boothroyd has—we celebrate her many achievements. She was the first woman Speaker and the only one so far. She was the original groundbreaker who smashed any and every glass ceiling with her wit, authority and presence in this Chamber. She was always respected, yet one of the major moments of her time in the role that has stayed with me was her refusal of Gerry Adams’ request to come to the House to make a statement. She told him in no uncertain terms, “If you don’t take your oath, you won’t take your place here.” She was absolutely right. That is the stuff of legend to those who watch Governments roll over in deference.

Betty Boothroyd was a wonderful lady and a lovely woman who will go down in history in the annals of this place. She was a parliamentarian in every sense of the word, and a woman of worth and lasting value to this place, to her party and to her family, who will miss her. We honour her memory in this House today and in the days and years to come.

[Mr Speaker]

I thank all hon. Members for their contributions. I will break tradition in a way that Betty would not have liked by saying that the Speaker’s secretary at that time, Sir Nicolas Bevan, has been watching all the proceedings—he knows all the stories and I could see him nodding when many of them were being told. There is a clear message to Maxine Peake to get “Betty! A Sort of Musical” on the road again.

Betty was absolutely rigid in keeping and upholding the values of this House. She would take on a Member of Parliament and she would take on Governments and the Opposition—it did not matter who it was. She even took on the press: poor Nigel Nelson had to sit in the Red Lion pub, because he was not allowed in the House. She put those papers into the filing cabinet and I came across them when we were having a clear out. They were quite amazing, including her letters to the editor—the poor editor, who had to write back. I said to Nigel, “I think you need to come and read this,” which he did. It was an amazing moment, and what amazing tributes we have had.