Chris Mullin writes: In 1970 I stood against Jeremy Thorpe as the Labour candidate in North Devon. He impressed me for several reasons. North Devon was a classic rural constituency with all the prejudices one might expect of such a seat. It was also highly marginal (he was up against a very rightwing Conservative and held on by only 369 votes). Yet he refused to pander. Most of his constituents were opposed to what was then known as the Common Market; he was in favour. They were strongly anti-immigrant (though there were virtually no foreigners), but he was liberal on immigration. Most of his constituents were keen on the death penalty (though there were few if any murders in North Devon); he was opposed.
At the count, when I was found to be a few votes short of holding on to my deposit (which in those days required 12.5% of the total votes cast) he graciously insisted on a recount to see if the extra votes could be found.
In those far-off days, before misfortune overtook him, Thorpe had galvanised political life in North Devon, holding meetings in every village, sometimes as many as four or five a night in addition to a gruelling daytime schedule of national events. The electoral turnout was 85%, and a crowd of thousands attended the final hustings and the declaration of the result. Much of that was down to his extraordinary magnetism.
I may have been young and impressionable, but I prefer to remember Thorpe as I knew him when he was at the height of his powers, rather than the tragic figure he later became.
