By Nick Broomfield
My best friend, Rick Vick, who has died aged 71, was well known in Stroud for his inspirational teaching and passion for encouraging creativity in others. He also contributed to the research and writing on my recent film, Marianne and Leonard: Words of Love, as well as editing Tracking Down Maggie and Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer.
I met Rick at the city of Westminster College when we were both 17. It was a gathering ground for eccentrics and originals who generally had been expelled from their previous schools. We very quickly become best friends and somehow, we knew right away that we could always depend on each other. We have remained best friends for the last five decades.
Rick was definitely rebellious, mischievous, swashbuckling, handsome, and full of tricks; how to avoid paying tube fares, how to gate-crash the best parties, how to get the most beautiful girls, but I also noticed he was unusually in-tune with the weakness and suffering of others. I never saw Rick being cruel or mean even when tipsy or drunk he was always a kind and funny drunk.
Rick welcomed me into his family. After a particularly boozy party I would often sleep overnight as his family’s house. Sometimes on the floor, sometimes on the couch; something I could never imagine doing with my own family. I met Amanda and Phillipa his sisters and his parents Richard and Judy. They instantly accepted me and I loved the chaos and openness of Rick’s family. There was very little judgement even though Rick’s father was a high court Judge.
Rick came from a family of some social standing, though Rick was far too modest to ever trade on it. His Grandfather had been the Lord Mayor of London and I came to realise there were a lot of expectations and pressures placed on Rick to perform accordingly. Rick, though really had no interest in being a part of the British establishment, much to the dismay of his Father.
Fortunately, though Rick did manage to introduce me to the wild world of debutante parties. We’d dance all night and then knock off crates of Champagne, which we’d sell back to the vintners the next day. We’d hang out at the Phoenix and Chelsea Potter, take poppers and drink far too much and then drive ancient old cars at breakneck speeds around the city. Some of our friends died in some awful accidents, but that somehow made Rick and I even closer, it gave us a keen sense of being alive.
Nick Broomfield and Rick Vick
Rick went on to work as a Fleet Street journalist, at first writing the social column and then graduating to writing more and more about crime and violence. I could see that what he was experiencing in writing these stories was beginning to really upset him. Rick had always had the incredibly impractical ambition of being a poet and writing about crime was definitely not what he had in mind.
Rick did manage to escape, travelling to the Amazon rainforest and then single0handedly sailing a 40ft boat without a motor from Rio de Janeiro to England. He spent a month going through the doldrums, which gave him the opportunity to write some of his finest poems.
When we were in our twenties, I happened to go to a small Greek island called Hydra. On my suggestion Rick went there for a 2-week holiday, but ended up staying for 14 years.
Hydra gave him the calm and peace he had always wanted. Beneath the openness of his family, which I had grown to love, there were a lot of tensions, which came to haunt Rick for most of his life. Some of this is beautifully expressed in his poetry and writing, which has benefited from some of the very conflicts that made his life, at times, so difficult. It has given his work an honesty and strength that always touches me.
I would visit Rick from time to time on Hydra and wrestle him away from his rather possessive girlfriend, who probably rightly knew that we would be up to no good. We’d go for great escapades across the Peloponnese picking up Girls, reading Ulysses and Rick would give me tips on Greek dancing. He had a particular kind of beauty to him, a most beautiful man, the only man I’ve ever fancied, I must confess I was particularly attracted to his back, one of the most beautiful backs I’ve ever seen. Late one night after a great deal of retsina we even discussed the possibility of having an affair, but I think wisely, decided against it, to preserve the longevity of our friendship.
At the same time, Rick has always been the most encouraging friend to me through his great ability to believe in his friends through thick and thin despite my occasional bad behaviour, and to see beauty and light all around him.
Rick became well known in the Stroud area as a poet and teacher. He taught creative writing at colleges, community and refugee groups, and rehabilitation environments such as the Nelson Trust. He was skilled in helping people use writing therapeutically, always encouraging people to write about their own lives and experiences. Typically, Rick formed very close relationships in these institutions and his spirit, honour and humility was an enormous support.
He published two books of his poetry - Ask the Ferryman He Passes all the Time, and A Coat of No Particular Colour - and several pamphlets, most recently Indian Eye, following a trip to India with his partner artist Gypsy Gee.
Rick died on Saturday 30th November 2019. He leaves behind three children, Lucian, Faye and Will.
Rick Vick: A Celebration will take place at the SVA Goods Shed in Stroud on Friday 31st January 2-6pm. All are welcome.