Every spring, thousands of daffodils bloom in the London borough of Islington. My dad, Alex Farrell, who has died aged 85, had them planted as a cheap way to brighten up the borough when he chaired Islington’s arts and recreation committee from 1978 to 1986.
The daffodils typified his belief in doing simple things to enrich people’s lives. He renamed Caledonian Road swimming baths the Cally pool because that’s what everyone called it, commissioned Sadler’s Wells to perform The Mikado on council estates and took a group of local pensioners to the Royal Ballet.
In those days, the red flag flew over Islington town hall. My dad was in the thick of the Labour council’s battle with the Thatcher government and voted for a rate that contravened the government’s policy on rate capping. This left him – and our family – potentially liable for a surcharge that would have meant bankruptcy. The council eventually backed down.
Before going into politics he had been an actor, and his sense of theatre earned him regular appearances in the Islington Gazette. He was temporarily boycotted by council officers after suggesting one of them should be “bricked up in a cellar” for bad advice to a constituent. One Easter he was pictured dressed as a rabbit presenting an anti-cuts petition to a government official. He also went up against Brian Redhead on the BBC Radio 4 Today programme to explain Islington’s supposed ban on Irish jokes. The council had simply condemned them as bigoted.
Born in Mullingar, County Westmeath, Alex was one of the five children of Michael and Elizabeth (nee Smyth), who ran a shop. When his father died, he was sent aged five to live with his aunt Jane in Dublin. He was educated at Belvedere and Newbridge College, but left with only a love of language and literature.
Aged 18, he joined the Royal Air Force and served for five years. He trained as an actor at the New Era college, then in north London, and by the late 50s was working regularly. His work included the Royal Court’s production of Sean O’Casey’s Cock-a-Doodle Dandy (1959) and Edna O’Brien’s A Pagan Place (1972), the national tour of Brendan Behan’s The Hostage (1961) and the TV productions The Army Game, Z-Cars and The Sword of Honour.
In the early 70s he taught Ryan O’Neal to speak with an Irish accent for Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon. After he divorced his first wife and married my mother, Jillian Cooke, in 1967, acting was not paying the bills. He became a stage manager at West End theatres and later caretaker of a community centre, while channelling his energies into politics.
For all Alex’s involvement in leftwing causes, most of his work was for the arts and council tenants in Barnsbury ward. At the 1986 council election he refought Barnsbury, where the SDP had become strong, while some senior councillors opted for safer seats. When he lost he was shattered and steadily became less political. In the early 90s, he and Jill retired to the Isle of Wight.
Alex is survived by Jill and me, and three children, Michael, Ciaran and Dectora, from previous relationships.
