Zoe McKenzie (Flinders, Liberal Party, Shadow Assistant Minister for Mental Health) Share this | Hansard source

A few days ago I actually got up to give my speech for our dear friend Luch in this place because I was fearful that, listening to the contributions of others, I would struggle to keep myself together. And, may I say, I delivered in spades. I was a burbling, sobbing mess. But today I hope to tell some of the fun stories of Luch. After all, I can't cry in front of the member for Canning! I would never live that down. But, as I went to give my speech a couple of days ago, I actually reached out to Luch's colleagues, and I said, 'If there's anything you'd like me to say on your behalf—to read into the record of Hansard forever—then I am very happy to do that. And so here are some of the reflections of his friends and colleagues in the messages to Luch. I'm mindful many of them are watching from your offices and that some of them are here with us today.

Here's the first one. This one's from Raff. Everybody knows Raff. Raff has been around forever, and I didn't know that Raff's official title is Messengerial Attendant. I assume that's what Luch was too. Raff said:

I first met Luch when I joined the Messengerial Services Team a number of years ago.

It was clear to me right from the start that he was well respected and much loved. It didn't take me long to realise that he was a bit of a legend throughout Parliament House. He was a trusted source of information and people would seek out his counsel—he was often a 'steady hand' that provided calm reassurance.

One of the things that I admired about him was that he didn't have tickets on himself. He was a 'down to earth' kind of guy who was pretty happy (and so grateful) for his lot in life.

He was the longest serving member in the Department of the House of Representatives and he had a vast amount of experience and knowledge in the functioning and operations of this place. All of which he was willing to share with you, and I've learned so much from him in my relatively short time here.

Raff, it feels like forever. He goes on:

Luch was a wonderful colleague who brought much joy and humour to this place. He took his role seriously but he also loved a chat and a joke behind the scenes, and occasionally from the Centre Stage of the Chamber.

I will always cherish the many laughs and good times we shared. He was a wonderful workmate and friend, and it was a privilege to have worked with him.

I will miss the larger-than-life character, along with his trademark smile and booming laugh.

Rest in peace my Friend!

And there's another one from Messengerial Phil—I love the way they sign them off:

Luch was a font of knowledge in the Reps chamber back office. Whenever he had answered a clarifying question from a colleague, he would then usually add, "What are you going to do when I'm gone?" or "What will you do without me?" Unfortunately Luch was taken from us too soon and we are left trying to work out what we are going to do without him.

We all miss you, Luch.

This is from one of my own staff members. We all love Luch in our office precisely because, as the member for Eden-Monaro would say, he'd always come around at Christmas time, my birthday, his birthday—any excuse for another photo and indeed another card. And so Unity Paterson in my team said:

He insisted on showing me the prorogue personally when parliament dissolved—something I'd never forget, because he reminded me how genuinely incredible a peaceful dissolution and election is. People just rush past this inconspicuous document on this inconspicuous stand, on their way to do this or that, but Luch was PROUD. I would have done the same if it wasn't for him, and it really reframed how I entered the election. How lucky we are to have democracy sausages as a hallmark of our election, not violence, and that Luch's pride is what sustains that—it's not really luck after all.

He was so proud of the functioning of this building, connecting the dots and people to get the best outcome, whether it be a piece of mail, a piece of advice, or just a feeling of inclusion.

He was always worried about people's wellbeing, and he was genuinely interested in the humans that made up this building. People like him are the reason that these institutions stay strong, as he reminds those who work in it, when the stakes are so high and the stress is so much, and it all starts to feel not real, of the human stories that make up our democracy and our country.

My friend Annabel Crabb, who had featured Luch in her series, The House, back in 2017, says:

Of all the Parliamentary denizens we interviewed for our documentary series 'The House', Luch captured better than any what the spirit of this place can be when it listens to its better angels. He was courteous, respectful, charming, industrious and observant to a fault. I will never forget the wonderful sight of Luch reporting to Mike Hughes' office at the beginning of a sitting week to have Mike do his tie. They would never let me film this little ritual, but it's always stuck in my mind. Towering Mike and modest Luch, preparing solemnly for another week in a place whose purpose and significance is far greater than that of any individual. It is a great honour for Australians that such a man both helped to assemble the bricks and mortar of this place, and then contributed an infallible humanity to its democratic function.

In my interactions with Luch over the years, every single one of these stories was brought to life. There was one day when we were threatened with a Saturday sitting, and I said, 'Luch, can you remember when it was that we sat on a Saturday?'

Here came the response: 'It was back when Kevin 07, Mr Rudd, was PM, and Mr Randall got a cardboard cut-out of Mr Rudd and brought it into the chamber that morning.'

I said, 'Oh, my goodness.'

He said, 'And before that, well, I think that was when we were doing Mabo, the stolen generations legislation. But I will confirm tomorrow.' He followed up with an Excel spreadsheet of exactly when we'd sat on a Saturday. I don't even know how he did it.

Luch, as we know, was famous for sneaking chocolates into the drawers of some of his favourites. It didn't always work well. I do remember once I was chomping down on a Flake. Why would he put Flakes in my drawer? Honestly, that is the least appropriate thing to put in the drawer when it's illegal to chew anything in the chamber. But he gave me a Flake once, and I was talking to the member from Macnamara, who'd come round for a chat. I looked down and I said, 'Oh, dear, Josh. There's a problem.'

He said, 'What?'

I said, 'I've had a chocolate explosion on my pants.'

He looked down, and he said, 'There's no recovering from that.'

I said, 'I know. I don't quite know what to do.'

Anyway, it turns out we have leather on the seats down there, where the chocolate went. Luch must have known, and that's why he gave me a Flake.

But there was another instance where I said, 'Luch, my goodness! I've had a mini-Crunchie choc explosion in my drawer. How do I deal with this disaster?'

'Leave it with me,' said Luch. The next day the Crunchie explosion was gone, and there were more to replace them.

Luch was an avid follower of politics. I think he knew more about politics than most of us. At the last election he would send text messages every few days, checking in on the count and making sure that I was going to be okay. And then came good wishes for Easter and then came good wishes for promotions. He signed off every text message 'Luch-elicious', which I called him one day. He seemed to like it, and so he stuck with it.

There was one day in the campaign when we'd run out of all the money that we had, and we had run out of stamps. But I knew there were about 40 stamps somewhere in the office here. Luch broke in, got the stamps, stuck them in a package, and sent them down to Melbourne. He went far and beyond for all of us to make democracy work, and he was so proud of his time here. He sent me a photo of the pollie class we all do when we first get elected. When I looked at it carefully the other day, I realised the reason he sent me that one was that it shows Luch in the attendance box, watching over us for the future. My great regret is that I missed my last Christmas photo with him. He'd said to me, 'Can we do the Christmas photo?' I said, 'Yes, yes.' But the end of the year was so crazy and so busy.

There's one person I want to thank, who is one of the silent angels in this building. On New Year's Day, I received a message from the member for Fadden. He said, 'I just need to tell you that we've lost Luch.'

I was shocked and I said, 'Are you sure?'

He said, 'Yes, absolutely. Leanne, the former attendant, wanted you to know specifically.' I don't know Leanne, but I know she's one of the angels of the architecture of this building. Wherever you are, Leanne, I say: thank you.

I sat with the news of Luch's loss for a day, and then I wrote an ode to him on Facebook. Then I observed Luch's last great gift to democracy: 300,000 people read that post. Thousands engaged with it, and hundreds of people commented. It was obvious that through the story of this wonderful, humble and humorous man, so dedicated to this place, that Luch had restored their faith and hope and belief in democracy itself.

I leave you with the final words of Luch's family—so raw and yet so formal, as was our man Luch:

The Jonceski family extends their sincere gratitude for the kind words shared and for recognising the positive impact his presence in Parliament had on many, all of whom he regarded as family.

See this speech in context