Donald Dewar, the Scottish First Minister, who died on October 11th aged 63, was one of the unlikeliest of Scottish heroes. In a land that reveres fighters and footballers, he did not fit the mould. He was a shambolic figure, lanky, almost perpetually stooped from a bad back and, in an age of volatility in Scottish politics, he was forever an advocate of moderation and caution.
And yet his entry in Scottish history books will be large, as the man who finally brought back a Scottish parliament almost three centuries after it was dissolved in the Union with England. He kept the devolution cause alive in Labour circles over three turbulent decades and his proudest moment in politics was when he finally delivered.
He was regarded as fundamentally decent, but more than that, the public liked the fact that he did not fit the image of the modern politician. He was unhappy with soundbites, eschewing hyperbole, delivering measured but stuttering opinions. To the despair of his advisers and colleagues, he would even acknowledge in public the merit of an opponent's arguments.
They despaired even more at his election campaigning techniques. For him, a good night out was driving around Glasgow or some other part of the west of Scotland, helping activists climb up ladders, putting up posters, and then piling into a curry shop.
Donald Dewar was born into a middle-class household in Glasgow. He blamed his shyness and gauche manner on his upbringing, as the only child of elderly parents. He went to the fee-paying Glasgow Academy, which he disliked, making few friends.
His life changed when he went to Glasgow University, where he became part of a close circle that included John Smith, who was to become Labour leader and who shared Donald Dewar's passion for devolution, and Menzies Campbell, the Liberal Democrat foreign affairs spokesman. The Glasgow University Union debate on Friday nights was a bearpit, attended by drunken students howling from the balcony, and it was there that he developed his debating skills: after this Westminster was easy.
He met his wife, Alison, at the university, and they married in 1964. Two years later, he left Glasgow to represent Aberdeen South at Westminster.
His life reached its lowest point in 1970. The back problem that was to cause him pain throughout the rest of his days began, he lost his seat in the general election and his marriage broke up - a setback from which he never recovered. Alison left him for another lawyer, Derry Irvine, now Lord Irvine of Lairg and Lord Chancellor, and took the children, Ian and Marion, with her. He never remarried.
In 1978, he made his comeback to politics, beating off a challenge by the Scottish National Party in the Glasgow Garscadden by-election. It was an important victory, as the SNP, with the rallying cry of "It's Scotland's oil", had been surging ahead. He held the seat (renamed Glasgow Anniesland for the 1997 election) until his death. His constituency consisted mainly of Drumchapel, one of the four sprawling council estates that mark each corner of the city, areas of intense social deprivation.
He led the Labour Party as shadow Scottish secretary during the 1980s, a difficult time given the Tories under Margaret Thatcher had control at Westminster while Scotland was returning a majority of Labour MPs. He was under pressure from Scottish Labour MPs who wanted radical action; there was even a proposal that they refuse to remain at Westminster in the aftermath of the 1987 general election and instead decamp to Edinburgh.
To release some of the tension, Donald Dewar, though privately disparaging stunts, did lead a walkout of Scottish Labour MPs from the Commons chamber soon after the election. Much more significant was his decision to participate in the Scottish constitutional convention, an unusual experiment in British politics. Labour sat down with rival political parties, the churches, trade unions and other representatives of Scottish life to work out a blueprint for a Scottish parliament.
He totally opposed Scottish independence and argued consistently that the country benefited from remaining in the Union. He demonstrated his distaste for the SNP by petulantly blocking in 1997 a knighthood for Sean Connery because he financed the SNP.
Although he was opposed to political nationalism, he was a strong cultural nationalist. He saw little reason to leave Scotland, an inclination that his aides only fully became aware of in the late 1980s when, as shadow Scottish secretary, he was due to make a trip abroad and informed them he did not have a passport.
In 1992, when John Smith became Labour leader, he decided Donald Dewar had been in Scotland too long and needed a change; Smith made him shadow social services secretary, a stint he followed as chief whip.
After the 1997 general election, he turned his back on UK posts in the cabinet and the chance to become one of the most senior figures in the Blair government, and returned to Scotland, to the job he had long coveted, Scottish Secretary.
With an overwhelming vote for devolution achieved in the referendum on September 11th that year, he sat down to draft the Scotland Bill that would make a Scottish parliament a reality.
The draft he presented to Tony Blair and other cabinet colleagues created alarm because it was seen as too nationalist. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Irvine, was told to sort it out. The battles between the two in cabinet committee were bruising, perhaps overlaid with a residual personal animosity. Donald Dewar had not spoken to Irvine from the time he left with his wife in 1970 until the two were pushed together at the funeral of John Smith, more than two decades later. He came off second best in the early stages of the committee meetings but eventually got the upper hand, securing most of what he wanted in the Scotland Act.
He earned himself the label of "father of the nation" in some papers but it never took hold, not least because he was embarrassed by it.
The birth of the parliament in Edinburgh has been tempestuous, with rows over Section 28, the mounting cost of the parliament building and the exam results fiasco. He was accused of being a poor administrator and of failing to delegate to colleagues.
The conclusion gained ground that he was the right person to deliver devolution but not to run Scotland. Ambitious colleagues had begun planning for the succession even last year.
He looked gloomy most of the time, being one of life's pessimists. Even John Smith said: "The only time Donald is happy is when he is totally miserable." It was a jibe made in jest by a man who had much fondness for him. Smith made it because he knew that deep down it basically was not true, and it was certainly not true of that day in July last year when Donald Dewar gave Scotland its parliament.
He is survived by his son and daughter.
Donald Campbell Dewar: born 1937; died, October 2000