Founded 1980
Chair:
Secretary:
Treasurer:
Graham Smith
Jan Thompson
Graham Mumby-Croft
Eulogy: Presented by Stephen Duncan
Robert, Bob, Duncan Eulogy
For those who don’t know me I am Stephen Duncan, Robert’s son.
Firstly thank you all for coming today. This service was arranged at quite short notice and some of you I know have travelled a long distance.
Today we gather to remember Robert, Bob, Duncan whose 84 years of life touched countless hearts and minds
Robert was born on 18th June 1940 in Cheam, Surrey where his Mother had gone to stay with her sister. But Robert grew up in Ramsgate.
Like all of his generation, my father’s childhood was overshadowed by war. But for him and his younger brother Leonard, World War Two had a particularly devastating impact, his father died a couple of months before his third birthday from injuries from a bombing raid. The two boys were brought up by their mother. She was dedicated to them and they
remained devoted to her for the rest of their lives.
It’s hard to sum up in a few words a life that spanned more than eight decades, a career that led him to run some of the biggest prisons in the country, and a home life that was in constant motion from London to Dover, Liverpool, Wakefield, Wellingborough, Leicestershire and Cambridgeshire, and finally back here to Kent.
For anyone who wants the full details, there are still a few copies available of my father’s autobiography – a slightly intimidating 392 pages
When he grew up and had his own children, my father could be a doting and indulgent parent. My sister, Nicola, remembers pestering him on car journeys to explain what the emergency exit ramps on motorways were for. In the end, probably fed up with his daughter’s nagging, he drove off the motorway into the gravel to show what it was for - much to the surprise of our mother.
Maybe because he had enough pressure at his job, he didn’t stress too much about parenting. We could both get away with things that our mother would never let us do. We are reminded of this from a picture of me, aged about three, clambering on top of my sisters bicycle to try and get to a bottle of weedkiller spray supposedly safely out of reach on the roof of our Wendy house. Probably to soak my sister with. Guess who took the picture instead of disciplining his son? Yes, it was my father.
Those moments were some light relief from a career which dominated everything else. As a devoted father, he was about to take Nicola to a university interview when a helicopter landed in the grounds of Gartree prison where he was the governor, in a brazen prison escape which made headlines on the national news. Two prisoners escaped, but were eventually recaptured. Our father had to rush into work. In his book, he writes about still taking Nicola to the interview. But he didn’t manage to be in two places at the same time and our recollection is our mother took Nicola. An occasional theme of the book which is filled with wonderful stories, but it has to be said, was not rigorously fact-checked.
While he was at Wormwood Scrubs, London saw one of coldest winters in December 1981. The chairman of Queen’s Park Rangers rang to say the club had an urgent problem. There was three feet of snow on the pitch ahead of a home match on Boxing Day, when few people were available to shift it. He asked if a party of prisoners and officers could come down and help the ground staff. He sent a coach to the prison to
collect volunteers, who were rewarded with VIP seats at the match.
He was committed to staff and prisoners alike. He recognised the challenges that prison officers faced, and the demands that their jobs put on them, and he also worked to rehabilitate and improve the lives of prisoners. One initiative at Wormwood Scrubs shows his attention to both. He heard about the child of a prison officer whose sight was deteriorating. He helped set up a braille unit that benefited staff, prisoners and a local school.
His commitment to public service won him the loyalty of many staff. As we were clearing out his study this week, we found a letter from a veteran prison officer who was retiring from Pentonville prison, where my father was governor. The officer said he was proud to have worked at Pentonville for 30 years, where he had seen many different governors. Some of them, he said, were good, and some were less so. “Mr Duncan,” he wrote, “I can tell you that I would follow you into war.”
After his own retirement he helped several charities that work to help prisoners and promote best practice in prisons. Toe-to-Toe, an initiative of the Shannon Trust, was a programme to help adult literacy in prisons. The Butler Trust supports prison staff to do their work to the best of their ability. The Butler Trust had annual awards at Buckingham Palace, which he loved attending. And he still regularly visited prisons. He once took his Grandson Luke with him on a visit to Elmley prison on the Isle of Sheppey where, under the guise of a health and safety check, he insisted on visiting the canteen so his grandson could assess the chips.
My father was known to his family and friends as not being the most sociable, which was I think a reputation he slightly cultivated. But he could very gregarious when he wanted, and very good host, as long as somebody else took care of the catering. When I was growing up his annual Christmas staff party at our home was one of the highlights of our year. My mother and later on with my sister and myself would spend the week before preparing the food and setting up the house. And in his retirement in Kent his summer birthday parties were great occasions, with Enid providing a marvellous spread. And I thank Enid for looking after my father here in Kent and especially recently during his ill health. We will hear a tribute from Enid shortly.
Finally thank you all again for being here today to remember and celebrate Robert’s life.
Click here for the
Order of Service
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Bob Duncan
The Man
Click here for the
Enid's Words
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