Famous faces to whom we said farewell this year
IT WAS a year in which we said a sad farewell to some of those who have entertained, enlightened and, occasionally, infuriated us.
In the world of showbusiness, the curtain came down on the long career of Sir Ken Dodd. He died in March at 90, two days after he married his partner of 40 years, Anne Jones.
The last of the great music-hall stars and the greatest stand-up of them all, he sold out theatres for six decades running. His funeral in a packed Liverpool Cathedral was, as Jimmy Tarbuck said in his eulogy, “one last full house”.
Professor Stephen Hawking, who also died in March, aged 76, was accorded an even grander exit, when he was laid to rest in the national shrine at Westminster Abbey known as Scientists’ Corner, between the graves of Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin.
“Here lies what was mortal of Stephen Hawking, 1942-2018”, a translation from the Latin on Newton’s grave, was the inscription on the stone.
“Nobody else since Einstein has done more to deepen our understanding of space and time,” it added.
The funeral of Hannah Hauxwell, the lonely Dales farmer who convulsed the nation in both sadness and admiration when, in the winter of 1973 she became the unlikely star of a Yorkshire Television documentary, was an altogether more modest affair. Nevertheless, some 300 mourners squeezed in to the cosy Methodist chapel in Barnard Castle, and 50 more lined the streets outside. Hannah was 91 and had long since left her farm, though not the Dales she loved.
Another indelible Yorkshire name to have taken his leave this year was the comedian Barry Elliott, better known as one half of TV’s Chuckle Brothers.
He was 73 and not only one of the most enduring children’s entertainers of all time, but also a staunch advocate for his home town, serving as life president of Rotherham United.
The Sheffield-born club owner Peter Stringfellow, who died in June, aged 77, was another larger-than-life Northerner. He ran nightclubs in Leeds before carving his name and fondlynurtured notoriety in the capital.
The writer and presenter Denis Norden who died at 96 in September, was anything but notorious – an unflappable and reassuring presence since the early 1950s. He and his comedy partner, the late Frank Muir, had more or less invented the British sitcom, and Norden went on to create another genre – that of the television “outtake” show.
Ray Galton, one of the writers he and Muir had encouraged, died a month later, aged 88. Galton had, with the late Alan Simpson, created Hancock’s Half
Hour and Steptoe and Son.
In the sporting arena, Sir Roger Bannister, the first athlete to run a sub-four minute mile, died in March, aged 88. His achievement in 1954, a year after a British expedition had conquered Everest, struck a note of hopefulness and positivism that reverberated through an austerity-stricken post-war nation.
The former England footballer Jimmy Armfield died in January, at 82. He played 627 games between the mid-1950s and the early 1970s, and went on to manage Leeds United.
The life of Barry Dodd, North Yorkshire’s Lord-Lieutenant, was curtailed by a helicopter crash in May. A self-made entrepreneur who became a business leader and advocate, the esteem in which he was held was reflected by the 700-plus mourners at his thanksgiving service in York Minster. Mr Dodd was 70.
John Cunliffe,who died in September at 85, was equally inspirational in his chosen field. The creator of Postman Pat, his stories had inspired and amused two generations of youngsters.
The last of the great musichall stars and the greatest stand-up of them all’ – Sir Ken Dodd