SCRIV

SCRIV Perhaps the most notable - and certainly the most constantly present - member was Frederick Egbert Scrivener - Scriv for short.

He was a Cockney pensioner in his 70’s, who at that time saw himself in mortal combat with his declared arch enemy, Horace Cutler – 'Orrible Orace’ - the Tory chairman of the Greater London Council, or the GLC, a.k.a. the Grasping London Council, who in the eyes of Scriv and his comrades in many London tenants' associations, was wickedly screwing residents out of their well-earned, though meagre, wages with steep and suddenrent rises.

The Poster Workshop was able to supply them with an endless stream of radical propaganda, thanks to a rejuvenated Scriv, who had found a new career designing posters.

And so, with his battered trilby hat perched on the back of his head, always dressed in a white shirt, black trousers, waistcoat and tie, whatever the temperature or time of year, and with a permanent rollup stuck to his bottom lip, Scriv could be found at the Poster Workshop virtually every day fighting the good fight.

Although Scriv had no previous art training, he dreamed up his own unusual individual style. His fierce and radical GLC rent strike campaign posters, used a mix of unique spotty fonts, often with the added humour of seaside cartoons.

He liked to believe that his relentless campaign would lead to the collapse of the GLC. Perhaps he was ultimately right. For it was indeed eventually abolished in 1985 - by Margaret Thatcher. But by then the leader of the council was the very radical Ken Livingston, who had set up opposition to the Thatcher Government’s policies in County Hall, then the HQ of the GLC, over the river from Westminster.

However, when the council rehoused Scriv in Brent - a long way from his beloved East End, he could no longer afford to get to Camden in order to man the fort, thereby inadvertently contributing to the closure of the Poster Workshop in 1971. For, he had become all but indispensable.

Scriv had had a long, colourful history, leaving him with many interesting reminiscences. For example, as a thirteen year old lad, before the First World War, he was told by his funeral director uncle to drive a horse drawn hearse, containing a coffin and corpse, from central London back to the East End. But the horses bolted, charging out of control down the Strand and Fleet Street, not coming to a halt for well over a mile. Luckily it didn’t crash and throw its contents all over the road!

And in 1926 during the General Strike, having managed to climb up a ladder in order to change a strategically placed railway signal to indicate ‘Stop!’ he went on to help tip coal from the stationary wagons, standing on a bridge, onto the street below for people to collect to heat their homes.

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