A Eulogy for Virginia Greene

Feeling that the recent obituaries for Virginia Greene have rung false, Vancouver writer Marcie Good reflects on Greene's charisma, and the difficulty of capturing a dynamic life in bare words. I hadn’t seen Virginia Greene for five years, but the recent news that she died of ovarian cancer at age 66 came as a particular shock. It just didn’t seem like something she would do.

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Virginia Greene, former CEO of the Business Council of B.C., died 2 December 2010, after a battle with ovarian cancer.

Feeling that the recent obituaries for Virginia Greene have rung false, Vancouver writer Marcie Good reflects on Greene’s charisma, and the difficulty of capturing a dynamic life in bare words.

I hadn’t seen Virginia Greene for five years, but the recent news that she died of ovarian cancer at age 66 came as a particular shock. It just didn’t seem like something she would do.

In 2005, I wrote a profile of Virginia for BCBusiness while she ran for the provincial Liberals. We spent a lot of time together over a few months, partly because it wasn’t easy for me to grasp everything she did. She had a significant history of roles in business, government, arts, not-for-profit, and community boards. The list of colleagues and friends I had to talk to seemed infinite. She would invite me to all kinds of events, not only ones that would help me write the story but ones she thought I would find interesting. I always went. I loved hanging around Virginia.

On paper, she was intimidating. Her first big appointment was director of employment programs for the ministry of labour. In 1983 she became assistant deputy minister of tourism, handling the marketing of the province for Expo ’86. She oversaw the successful Super Natural B.C. ad campaign and brought in big corporate partners, a relatively new idea. In 1987 she left the security of government and started a business, Go Direct Marketing. It was cutting-edge and hugely successful; in 2000 it was scooped up by ad agency J. Walter Thompson of London. She was winding down her responsibilities for the transfer when Gordon Campbell talked her into politics. She was a “star candidate” in the Vancouver-Fairview riding. 

Maybe my journalistic instincts were a bit off during that time as I all but ignored her opponent who I considered very well-versed but sort of nebbish and grudging in comparison. (Gregor Robertson, anyone?) I mean, Virginia Greene sang! She wore white lace camisoles under her black suits, and fishnet stockings. She explained to me in some detail her history of marriages and other partnerships. She took me to the Bacchus Lounge for lunch and mentioned she often came here after work by herself. Great jazz, she said, and somebody she knew always showed up. I wanted to be that fabulous!

Still, I wasn’t sure about her run at public life. She would have done well, no doubt, but her on-book political speeches didn’t quite ring true. I liked her pithy explanations, her off-colour wit. I went door-to-door with her, and she made the groveling task seem like a lark. After an intense conversation outside a Fairview townhouse, she turned to the suited-up Liberal staffer collecting demographic information. “Get that down,” she said, motioning to his clipboard. “Single man. Lexus.”

I’m the same age as Virginia’s daughter Justine, and her nature towards me was a bit motherly. She was always concerned about me. Are you enjoying the story? Are you getting what you need? Where did you go to university? What are you reading? And I wasn’t alone. Everywhere were stories about the way she took care of people. One young employee, finding herself pregnant, went to Virginia (her boss!) for advice. One of her close friends told me how, when another friend was dying of breast cancer, Virginia planted a garden for her so she could watch it grow. After Cass’s death, Virginia became board chair of the B.C./Yukon chapter of the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. She was credited with raising millions and expanding the organization’s role to include advocacy.

That was her m.o., that ability to see big. It was pointed out to me by one of her employees, ad writer Amy Joseph.  “Virginia will do a lot of nodding, she’ll listen to your concerns, but she’s seeing beyond. She sees a problem like a bump in the road, but not the end of the road. The road for her goes on into the horizon.” Losing the election was like that, a bump. She went on to run the ministry of tourism and then inter-governmental relations. In 2007 she took the reins of the B.C. Business Council and in 2008 got married to Lyle Viereck.

The illness seemed to be like that too. Last winter she convinced her doctors to put off her chemo for a few days so she could carry the Olympic torch. She took on ovarian cancer, not only for herself but for everyone else. Just months before she died she spoke at a fundraising event at the convention centre. A thousand of her closest friends snapped up tickets and she left them in tears.

Writing profiles is tricky. You never capture somebody in 3,000 words, and my story wasn’t big or smart or funny enough. It struck me again as I read her obituaries. The praises, the eulogizing tone, all seemed a bit false. Not that she didn’t deserve it. She just didn’t need it. She wasn’t about the accomplishments on paper. She was about the moment, however hackneyed that sounds. The energy, the striving, and mostly the people. Her friends joked that everyone in Vancouver is somehow connected to Virginia, and I definitely was.

 
THE contributor

Marcie Good has written for publications including Saturday Night, Vancouver, Western Living, and The Globe and Mail. She lives in Vancouver.