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Tillett, Jeffery - Fond memories of a former Derby Mayor
Jeffery Tillett, Mayor of Derby in 1977 when it first gained city status, died on 4 April 2008. The following reminiscences from his long-standing friend, Evening Telegraph columnist Lucy Orgill, appeared in the paper the following month.
I say "unlikely" because he was, on the surface, erudite, intelligent, cultured, a gentleman and a scholar, where I was, compared with the great character, a bit frivolous and ditzy, forced to play her three miserable School Certificates close to her chest in the presence of this man of letters and -ologies.
I was in Cala Bona, Mallorca, when Jeff, perhaps Derby’s most famous Derby City father, died – a fitting place to be, perhaps, because with him and his partner of 40 years, Councillor Robin Wood, I spent many happy hours in their company in that Derby-by-the-sea home-from-home. And oh no, it wasn’t just a round of bars and sun-beds, parties and posturing. They attempted to instil in me a soupcon of culture by showing me the sights of Palma, and I’ll never ever forget that one and only visit to the famous and exquisite Palma Cathedral.
But it was back in his home town that our camaraderie began to flourish, when I was a Derby Telegraph hack reporting on the then Borough Council’s meetings, and he was education chairman – slipping me the odd "leak" which did wonders for my reporting reputation, and at the same time enhancing his prowess as a dyed-in-the-wool councillor with Derby’s progress engraved on his heart.
But it was that heady year, 1977, when Jeff was elected Mayor of Derby for the Queen’s Silver Jubilee, that our friendship was well and truly forged. Together with the late sisters Margaret and Wendy Wilcox, who were incredibly zany and fun-loving, I became one of what he dubbed his "ladies of the town", giving us the opportunity to doll up in fancy frocks and posh hats as his mayoral escorts. Though it wasn’t all fun and life in the fast lane. A deeply spiritual man, he spent his fair share of Mayoral duties on official visits to churches. And for reasons best known to him, usually called on yours truly to accompany him.
By the fifth, I was getting a bit brassed off. "Next time you walk me down an aisle," I quipped, "we’ll come back married….." As a committed gay member of society, it probably scared him rigid, but it did the trick. Next time out was a champagne-fuelled hurtle on the high-speed-train to London, with the Mayoral chain taken off, and put back on again, as we whizzed through Leicester Station on the way there and back.
The year had its fair share of embarrassing moments with both of us. I toddled along with Jeff and Robin to the first real ale festival in Derby – and asked for half a lager, since they weren’t serving gin and tonics. He confided later : "I thought we’d be asked to leave…. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me." What did I know about men and their beer? On another occasion – a church "do" – he berated me for turning up in a dress with a contrasting broderie-anglaise hem. ""Your underskirt’s showing, hitch it up" he chided me. To which the priest retorted : "Mr Mayor, don’t you realise, it’s the latest fashion."
But Robin and I still cringe at our red-faced moment in Derby Cathedral when, just as the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Donald Coggan, began his oration to packed pews, Jeff fell asleep – and his snores reverberated around that hallowed hall.
But that was the year, that was. Jeff, often with his mainstay, Robin, by his side, was magnificent in his statesmanship and cool, rose to every occasion whether it was when the Queen granted the Letters Patent granting Derby city status, accompanying the Queen Mother as she opened the Assembly Rooms, or, more humbly, attending celebration street parties, or opening a bazaar or garden fete. What a character. And what a good egg of a chap.
Along with Robin, his nephew Nicholas was the light of his life, and when Nicholas’s children came along, he took on the role of doting "grandfather". With Jeff and Robin, we continued to party – and debate and argue - for years, because they were superb hosts, Jeff was a brilliant cook, and we all had our opinions.
His good works, in literature, music, education, charity, art, are legendary, both locally and nationally. He was a committed politician who believed in democracy, the spirit of this city, and above all, the people he was privileged to serve.
We last saw Jeff on his 80th birthday, last November. He was ill and very frail, but in true fashion, didn’t turn down the chance to celebrate with a glass of red. As we reminisced, he occasionally chipped in to the conversation. And the famous Tillett chuckle never left him. Our sympathy to Robin, his lifelong, loyal and loving partner. As was noted at his beautiful funeral mass, Jeff Tillett left the world a better place.
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