St. Margaret’s Church, Kemp Road
26th January 2008
In my calling, my line of work and at my age you could get used to death. But every once in a while, someone passes away that takes your breath away.
That’s the case with Charles Rolle, who most of his friends know as ‘Do It Right’ and who ‘Mama Do’ his lifetime friend and one time partner called Jr.
My condolences to the children including my godchild Sarah on this sad occasion.
There was a time we were inseparable. I became the Chairman of the Centreville Branch of the PLP in 1975, shortly after leaving university, thanks to the work of Bulla Hanna. Charles Rolle became the Vice Chairman at the same time and he and I became fast friends.
He and ‘Mama Do’ Ena Hepburn ran the Famous Chef Restaurant which club at Plantol Street came to be known as Mama Do’s.
I saw him as my protector. And I told this story at ‘Mama Do’s’ funeral. How there was a dispute in the branch about who should be delegates to the convention of 1976. I wanted a certain group and others wanted another group. Mind you, we were all friends. Just as the vote was about to take place, the lights went off and the meeting was broken up and a fight started. At that moment, Charles grabbed me and pushed me outside. He said: You go down to your mother’s house and stay there.
That little event then joined us at the hip. When elections were called again we both lost our right to be delegates at the convention but there was no stopping us.
I remember him most as a man distinction, of great taste and high standards, very proper, lived his life fully, and enjoyed it. He was always impeccably dressed whether on the construction job or at an official function. He was made more distinguished by his pipe, which was always with him. If you rode in this truck with the name Do It Right Builders emblazoned on its side, you would know that this was one clean man, and the aromatic smell of pipe tobacco was everywhere.
He was an excellent builder. When it was time for me to move into my law firm in 1995, I hadn’t seen him for years but I went into Kemp Road found him and he repaired the building. I knew about his building because as a young politician I formed a firm friendship with Loftus Roker, the Minster of Works who awarded contracts to his firm. He was a tough man and he was impressed by Charles’ work. Charles insisted that Fr. Dudley Strachan be called in to bless the building at the start. He said to me “I know how you go, but you better do it.”
Very sensible like that. Very practical. Very cool, calm and cool, collected. And what he taught me in those early years is that in politics, there is great psychological war, the battle of gossip and propaganda. If you believe it, then that is when they have won the war.
He rebuilt from scratch my mother's home in Armstrong Street. He told me that was his last project. He introduced me to two young men the Brown brothers from Kemp Road, and they and he completed the building. I believe he taught them much of what he knew as a first class carpenter and builder. He was an excellent carpenter. First class. He would say: “Do it right or leave it” and then you would finish it with the word “alone.”
In the political firmament, the only one closer than me was the Hon. A. D. Hanna, I think.
Today then, I have come to say farewell to my friend, my protector, my supporter.
I am only sorry that I could not manage to hold on to the government in 2007. I know how much winning in 2002 meant to him and so many, and on the night we lost the election I thought of so many that would not be here, perhaps even me, the next time we come to win again. But whenever we do, and I am sure that this will be; if I am here, I will remember that it was men like Charles Rolle who caused it to happen.
Charles was also practical a man, not one to suffer fools gladly, not one to spend too much time in ceremony and fuss. I recall then in his honour these words penned by the Irish poet William Butler Yeats that appear on his tombstone in Dublin:
“Cast a cold eye, on life, on death. Horseman! Pass by.”