Tears fell at Rose's state funeral yesterday, attended by about 2000 people at Melbourne's Festival Hall, but it was more about celebration than grief, more about living than dying, and it ended with three cheers and hard men reaching out to touch his casket as it was carried from the hall.
His casket was strewn with roses and draped with the country's flag, but the service was true to the life of an Aboriginal kid who grew up on a dirt floor at Jackson's Track, but always felt enriched by it. The service began with people standing for Rose's song Jackson's Track and ended with Hobo's Lullaby. Along the way, his god-daughter Bonnie Anderson sang Desperado and when she finished the standing ovation began in the front rows and rolled to the back of the hall.
Archie Roach, fighting with tears, told of growing up with a foster family who called him over to the radio one night in a state of excitement to listen to a fight, telling him, "this man who's fighting, he's your people". Roach sang his song Took the Children Away and the service heard that Rose wept when Kevin Rudd as prime minister apologised to the stolen generations.Rose's old friend Johnny Famechon was there, as was his trainer Jack Rennie, in a wheelchair. Other fighters included Anthony Mundine and his father Tony, Danny Green, Jeff Fenech, Jeff Harding and Lester Ellis. Underworld identity Mick Gatto was there along with Collingwood president Eddie McGuire, former AFL player Andrew McLeod and music presenter Ruby Rose, Lionel's goddaughter.
In a welcome to country, Wurundjeri elder Joy Murphy said Rose had shown the world the "tenacity and integrity of a young Aboriginal man".
She said the spirits of their ancestors would guide him on "his journey to the Dreamtime".
Victorian Premier Ted Baillieu spoke. He remembered being glued to the radio in his brother's bedroom and how they "jumped around and hollered our support" as Rose became world bantamweight champion in Tokyo in 1968, a year of change.
"He inspired us, he charmed us and he in turn grew up with us," Mr Baillieu said. "There was, and remains, only one Lionel. People genuinely loved him and felt protective of him and although Lionel was a professional fighter with a thunderous left hook and a killer instinct in the ring, as a human being he was a thoroughly decent and gentle soul."
Old friend Pauline Cook spoke of Rose's devotion to his wife Jenny and son Mick. She recalled that when Lionel and Jenny divorced, they sat together in court and the judge had to tell them to sit apart. They were divorced for less than a month and went on being "life partners and best mates".
She recalled how Lionel would send Jenny flowers, ring to make sure she got them and a week later Jenny would get the bill.
A loving tribute was paid by football identity and friend of 40 years, Stan Alves, who said that Rose was "a true Australian", a brilliant young Aborigine.
"Not for one minute did he see himself superior to anybody else, but not for one minute did he see himself inferior," Alves said. "He opened himself to you, he gave you a chance to be his mate."
Skating gracefully over the low times in Rose's life (he once spent some days in jail and declared himself a very poor thief), Alves said. "Make no bones about it, he was a scallywag and not always an angel, but there wasn't a mean bone in his body."
At the end of the service, the fighting fraternity made a guard of honour. As the casket passed by, they reached out to touch it. Sometimes their hands were open and touched it lightly, sometimes clenched in a fighter's tribute.
