Tributes to Baroness Boothroyd

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.

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.

I call the shadow Leader of the House.

It is a pleasure to follow the Leader of the House and an honour to lead the Opposition’s tributes to a giant of our Labour party and of this House: Betty Boothroyd. Our condolences must go out to her friends, family and all who knew her. I hope that we can spend this afternoon joined in celebration of a wonderful life well lived.

Born in Dewsbury—a part of the world I know well—Betty’s story is one of a proud working-class Yorkshire lass taking on the many challenges stacked against a woman from her background. She was a Labour woman who rose to the very top of her game, but she set a profound example to all women of this House who came after her, and we all thank her for it. Her story starts with humble beginnings, knowing all too well the challenges of growing up poor, witnessing her parents dropping in and out of insecure work in the textile industry. She enjoyed occasional holidays to Blackpool, but she strived for more. At 13, she won a scholarship to Dewsbury technical college, but it was her passion for dancing that she first pursued. What a joy it has been to see the beautiful black and white pictures from her stint as a member of the Tiller Girls dance troupe, which clearly instilled in her the art of performance—a trait that served her well in this place, especially during her eight years in the Speaker’s Chair. What a performer, Mr Speaker.

It is Betty’s career change from dancing to politics for which we remember her so fondly today. She worked hard and made the most of her opportunities. Her former boss, Barbara Castle, for whom she was a secretary, wrote that the moral of Betty’s career was that

“You never know what people are capable of until you give them the opportunity to show it.”

Maybe others could not have seen where Betty’s capabilities would take her, but I like to think that she knew her potential, and she worked damned hard to realise it and never gave up. That characteristic stood her in good stead during the four unsuccessful election campaigns in which she stood as parliamentary candidate. All of us who have stood in election campaigns will know what that feels like; it shows true Yorkshire grit.

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 call the Mother of the House.

That was an excellent tribute from the right hon. Member for Maidenhead (Mrs May). Perfectly put.

This is, indeed, a sad but very proud moment as the House pays tribute to Betty Boothroyd. A proud moment for all of us women in the House, as she was the first and only woman Speaker, and she was brilliant in the Chair. A proud moment for Labour, as she was a woman from a working-class, Yorkshire background who blazed a trail for Labour in politics. And a proud moment for the House, as she was an icon for Parliament. She was admired and respected not only in this country but abroad. I went to the United States when she was Speaker, and all anybody wanted to ask me was whether I had ever met Betty Boothroyd and what she was like.

Members have mentioned the odds she defied to get into this House. Four times she stood for election and four times she failed, but she stood again and got in the fifth time. She was utterly resilient, and nothing smoothed her path. Let us remember that it was not an asset for getting into Parliament to have been a secretary, it was not an asset for getting into Parliament to be a woman and it was certainly not an asset for getting into Parliament to have been a dancer, but she overcame all those odds.

This was at a time when Parliament was overwhelmingly male-dominated. She joined the Commons when only 3% of MPs were women and 97% were men. She not only got into Parliament, but she got her voice heard. She did this through a combination of charisma, commitment, having more energy than anybody else and bottomless resilience. She was smart, she was tough and, my goodness, she had to be. In an overwhelmingly male House dominated by a Tory majority, she was elected Speaker as a Labour woman. Again, it was her determination and rigour: she was always the best briefed, best prepared person in the room.

In the Speaker’s Chair, yes, she had a fantastic sense of humour and a great personal warmth, but—let us not mince our words—she ruled this place with a rod of iron. She did that by always being ahead of the House. She missed nothing, and she expected from all of us the high standards to which she held herself. She expected the House to be boisterous, but she had no time for oafish, loutish behaviour. When a Tory MP, Tony Marlow, shouted across the House that I was a “stupid cow,” he made a big mistake. It is not that everybody else was not saying it, but Betty heard him. He was at the far end of the Chamber and she was in the Chair, but she heard him. She forced him to withdraw those words, ruling that “stupid cow” is unparliamentary language.

I came into Parliament in 1984, when Jack Weatherill was Speaker of the House of Commons. I had the great pleasure of voting in the election after he ceased to be Speaker, and I came to the conclusion that Betty Boothroyd was the right person for the job. I am not sure that many other Conservative Members voted for her, but she never forgot. We always maintained an extremely good relationship. She was a great Speaker: every one of the tributes we have heard has not only added to her reputation and the lustre of her career but has been extremely accurate.

Occasionally, very occasionally, I go into the Library. I always go into the same room and sit in the same green chair. As I look up, I see the list of Speakers. Of course I see your name, Mr Speaker, and I see your predecessor’s name, and so on. The name I always notice is Miss Boothroyd. As the first lady Speaker of the House of Commons, very much in line with what others have said, she not only made her mark but she was a wonderful person.

It would not do for me not to mention the Maastricht treaty, on which I had to deal with her as Speaker. I cannot remember precisely whether it was under the Chairman or the Deputy Chairman of Ways and Means but, at a very important moment, we moved a motion of censure. As I recall it, the decision went in our direction, as a result of which she then had to come in and take over to make the decision that was needed. It was a tie, and she of course made the appropriate decision and that was that. She did exactly what I have heard in these tributes so far: she took the initiative, intervened at the right moment and did the right thing. She was really a remarkable person.

I caught up with her on a number of occasions, because she would come down towards the House of Commons and one would get into a conversation with her. I noticed that she was getting a little older. We might sit down and have a quiet word, and I just said to her, “I do hope you have given up that smoking.” She did smoke quite a lot and it was a matter of concern to me as I saw her getting older and I thought that perhaps this was not a good thing for her to be continuing to do. I want to end on this note: she was a great Speaker, a great lady and a great ornament to this House of Commons.

Over the past 24 hours, a number of people have asked me when I first met Betty Boothroyd. To be perfectly frank, I cannot remember, but I know it was at least 48 years ago, because that was when I came into this place, to which she had not all that long been elected. Reference has been made to various parts of her record. I think it was a journalist who said, “Why should Betty wear the wig, she’s got perfectly good iron grey curls of her own?” As has been mentioned, that was very much her attitude.

I well remember Betty going into the Whips Office and hearing nervous traditionalists from the Tory Benches murmur that they were not sure that their party would ever allow a woman into that nest of information and power that the Whips Office always represented. Of course, that has turned out not to be the case, but although Betty was not the first woman Whip, it was thought of as quite a revolution when she went into the Whips Office.

I also had the pleasure of serving with Betty on the national executive committee, although, like your father, Mr Speaker, she and I were not always of the same point of view. But there was a great degree of mutual respect and, as time went on, very real friendship. Certainly when I was Leader of the House of Commons, I met her constantly as the Speaker. She was hugely helpful, sympathetic and understanding, but, as has been mentioned, there was always this very strong determination to see respect for the House of Commons. She was one of the Speakers who insisted that Ministers come to this House to give statements. We are talking about a Labour Government, by the way, and I am sorry to say that not everybody was always as respectful of the demands of this House. I am afraid that that crosses parties and it is true of Conservative and Labour Governments, but Betty was always very clear that the House comes first, statements must be made first to the House and the House must be treated with respect.

Any.

No, I do not think that is fair; I think she supported some of them.

Betty was certainly—the word was used a moment ago—an ornament to this House, but she was much more than that. She was a very, very formidable figure. I do not think there is any doubt that, to young women in the outside world, she was a representation of the fact that, yes, women can get anywhere and they can do the job, not only well, but much better than many of the men who have had that post. So I share the view that she will be remembered for a very long time. She will be remembered with affection, as well as respect, and that, I think, she would always have welcomed.