John Browne, who passed away last month aged seventy-one, was a comrade, a close friend, and a wonderful soul. A longstanding servant of Preston, John—known as ‘the legend’ to many young people in his community—represented Brookfield ward as a Labour councillor for four decades, and never flinched in his commitments to building a socialist society.

Born in Carlisle in 1950, John’s parents were from an Irish background, and they moved to Preston when John was little. In his youth, John’s characteristically caring but independent side started becoming apparent, and he first became politically engaged in the seventies upon starting work as a mental health nurse at Whittingham Hospital, just outside of the city. As can be imagined, the environment at the hospital—now an abandoned building beloved of urban explorers and photographers—was extremely challenging, and the institutional culture was impenetrable. He became active in the union, which led him to joining Labour.

Active in the Brookfield branch in north-east Preston, he became a committed campaigner. Soon, he became branch secretary of Brookfield, and served for three years as chair of Preston CLP from 1983. In that year, he was also elected to represent Brookfield on Preston Council, which he held for thirty-nine years—the longest of any other serving councillor.

In the eighties and nineties, when Preston Labour was sharply divided on ideological lines, John was a figurehead of the left-wing Campaign Group, which included figures such as former council leader (and GLC figure) Valerie Wise, Robert Boswell, and Tony Reid.

In this environment, John was a campaigner. He fought unashamedly against Thatcher’s war on the working class and the LGBT+ community, his sexuality as an openly gay man often being wielded as a political cudgel against him by rivals and opponents. In 1990, John was sent to court for non-payment of the Poll Tax alongside many of his neighbours. As a Preston Irishman, he regularly spoke at Party Conference in support of a United Ireland and was overjoyed by the Good Friday Agreement.

Memorably, John was a staunch supporter of the struggle against apartheid and was instrumental in Preston Council flying the flag of the African National Congress—a move which upset local Conservatives so much that they brought a Union Jack to council and put it on display. John duly pinched the flag during coffee break, and upon their return a distraught Tory exclaimed: ‘Mr Mayor, my property has been stolen!’ This wasn’t the only time John antagonised them—his use of the infamous Nye Bevan quote about Tories being ‘lower than vermin’ led to a stand-up row in the council chambers.

But his talent on the council was noticeable, and John quickly became chair of both the Planning and Licensing committees. On these, he would enjoy standing up to developers; when I was elected as a councillor and first met John, I was sat beside him when he laughed and shouted ‘watch them go!’ at sulking, suited estate agents whose significant planning applications had just been beaten by him.

After that first meeting, John and I developed a deep friendship, as socialists in Labour became ever weaker. John was a staunch opponent of the Iraq War and was involved in plans to twin Preston with the Palestinian city of Nablus, joining a delegation to Palestine in 2004 to learn more of a cause that remained close to his heart until the end. He helped organise for John McDonnell’s attempt to stand against Gordon Brown for Labour leader in 2007, and when Jeremy Corbyn stood for Labour leader in 2015, he spoke passionately at a Preston rally in which he urged listeners to never shy from demanding a different society.

John, as a man, had many contradictions. He was an anti-establishment man who loved tradition and classical music. He represented a densely populated working-class community but loved rural areas and would often side with Tories opposing what they saw as overdevelopment in green spaces. I enjoyed the hilarious, often surreal stories he’d tell me in the last year of his life, when we spent a lot of time on long walks throughout our city. His sense of duty never left him; just before he died, and despite knowing that he had days left, he felt deeply guilty about being forced to turn away a constituent in need of help because he was going into hospital.

Looking at what he did in his life, it’s no secret why John was so widely respected. From the effort that he threw into national and international struggles for human dignity, and his fundamental attitude to people, John was truly special. He was uncompromising and a real grafter, yet also full of laughter and always had a bit of spare time for people. It was a privilege to be his friend and comrade, and I fear that we may never see his like again.