When the origins story of the modern SNP comes to be filmed, Winnie Ewing may not be cast as mother but she must be considered, at least, in the role of midwife to the birth of a force that has come to dominate Scotland politically.
Much as pop music is divided by the era of pre-Elvis and post-Elvis, Scottish politics can be defined in terms of pre and post Winnie, most specifically the events of May 1967 when she won the Hamilton by-election.
It may be difficult now in a sustained age of SNP dominance to understand the significance of that victory. Winnie was not the first SNP MP, that honour was accorded to Dr Robert McIntyre who briefly held Motherwell in 1945, but she was the figure who exemplified the possibility of a breakthrough and the hope of ultimate victory.
This is enough to make her a politician of note and an historic figure, but her subsequent career in Westminster and the European Parliament added substance to a personality who was routinely described in the sexist language of the day.
She was attractive but there was much beyond the superficiality of good looks and engaging personality. Winnie was tough. She had to be.
Regarded by many as a middle-class lawyer born to an unchallenging life, the truth was much different. ‘I come from Dalmarnock Road,’ she told me as she gave her thoughts in an interview on referendum day in 2014. Her father, George Woodburn, lost his right hand at 21 when he was a turner. He used his compensation money to pursue political causes while also setting up a wholesale paper business in Glasgow fish market.
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That element of grit never left Winnie, despite the smooth exterior of an articulate politician with a facility for making friends and influencing others.
The events of 1967 shaped her and, subsequently, the nation. On a personal level, she was severely bullied by Labour members at Westminster when she took her seat.
"When Harold Wilson (Labour leader) heard of this he looked at his watch and told me: ‘From this moment it stops’", she said later.
She acquired a steely resilience through this experience. It never left her in her battles both at Westminster, where she later served as the member for Moray and Nairn, and in the European Parliament.
But 1967 changed everything. There is a desperate irony that George Leslie, her great friend and political blood brother, died this month. George had contested the Pollok by-election months before the Hamilton poll. He never came near to winning but he polled at 28%, showing that Hamilton, with the right campaign and a fair wind, could be within the SNP’s grasp. It was.
George also played a substantial part in a revolutionary campaign. Winnie was an energetic, committed campaigner backed by a very small but powerful team. They came up with slogans such as “It’s Scotland’s Oil” and “Stop the World Scotland Wants to Get On”.
Her victory simply paved the way for everything that followed. The SNP, once regarded as an irrelevant political cult, had defeated Labour in its heartland. The road was never smooth thereafter but it led to a Scottish government run by nationalists.
She was, then, an unmistakable signpost to history. But she was much more than even that.
Her dedication to nationalism was complemented by a passion for Scotland’s place in Europe. Madame Ecosse was not just a sound-bite but a recognition of a campaigner who believed in communality and continental co-operation . Her culture and her life was informed and enhanced by the ideal of inclusion.
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She knew and accepted the pain of tragedy, most grievously when she lost her husband, Stewart, in 2003. He was always at her side politically and personally. He was gloriously self-deprecatory with a cultivated air of mild eccentricity but these traits could not disguise a sharp and focused mind.
An accountant, he and Winnie shared professional and personal lodgings in Queen’s Park Drive where they welcomed visitors with unremitting graciousness.
Winnie was always open to argument and, indeed, would prompt one if the evening seemed to be flagging but she will be remembered by her ability to enjoy these outbreaks of malt whisky Olympics that were loosely dubbed ceilidhs.
Despite obvious celebrity, she was content when the singing started to sit and listen without the need to take centre stage. A favourite memory is when she was prevailed upon to sing some half a century ago in my parents’ house. The living-room was beset by sudden darkness as the meter gave out (younger readers may have to Google this). Winnie serenely carried on. It was, after all, her trademark in her personal life and her professional pursuits.
She was brisk and businesslike when the occasion demanded but she was also personally soft and generous. She was said to have given birth to an SNP dynasty in that Fergus and Annabelle followed her with distinction into politics. Terry, her youngest child, steered away from a formal involvement with politics.
But Winnie’s influence stretched far beyond the familial and the personal. She simply changed the face of Scotland, politically and culturally.
There will be those who state that it is a pity that she has died without seeing independence realised. This, I suggest, is to misunderstand her.
She had no ego about witnessing the age of a Scotland unchained from Westminster.
"It is a process," she said in 2014. “It does not matter if I see it."
Her life was embroiled in this cause, much of it consumed by it. But she told me:
“I never have had one moment of regret over committing my life to independence. Not one."
In this, as in so much else, she commanded belief.
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