I remember reading that Richard
Whitley was staying in The Grand Hotel in Brighton in the eighties when it was
bombed by the IRA (he was the first journalist to interview Margaret Thatcher.)
Up until that time I thought he was just the television presenter of Countdown
for twenty-three years. I didn’t know he’d been a polished, respected
journalist for many years. While driving through the spectacular countryside near
Wensleydale I just had to visit the rural church
where he’s buried. He’s near Leyburn, a small village
amid rolling countryside. The main square was heaving with Easter visitors that
Friday evening. I was going to pull over and people-watch with a frothy coffee
and some peanut butter on toast but the sun was setting already. I thought
better drive out to the church first, about two miles from the hub of things. I
knew he'd be easy to find as churchyards in the middle of nowhere are smaller than
the municipal cemeteries for the masses. I found it quickly, almost instantly.
A wreath usually declares someone a note lies beneath it.
Richard spent his childhood in Baildon on the outskirts of Bradford in Yorkshire (his
family owned a textile mill). He was a bright lad, winning a scholarship to fee-charging
Giggleswick School (his English teacher was soon-to-be-tv-presenter Russell Harty)
before heading for Cambridge university.
He joined the just-formed Yorkshire Television and became the regular face
of Calendar, an early evening
regional news programme. Though a respected reported with an eye for a swoop he
probably famous for being savaged by a ferret live on local news. It clamped to
his finger for half a minute before its owner dislodged it - you can see it
here...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9xHEj3Gk4Q
He was in his late thirties when he endeared
himself to millions of television viewers as the avuncular anchor of the cult
word game Countdown (still going). It wasn’t meant to last for long but audiences
- mainly pensioners and university students - warmed to this friendly, pruning,
bumbling favourite-uncle-type of host and he’d go on to make over 10,000
appearances over twenty-three years. He appeared on British television more
than any other person apart from Carole Hersee who is
the young girl who appeared on the BBC's Test Card. The resplendent 200+ vivid
jackets and 500+ natty ties helped. To combat his sexless relaxed nature Carol Vorderman joined the show with a brill
brain and brill bum. The Queen was a regular viewer of
the programme and gave him an OBE.
Outside television he’d been married in the 1960s
but it only lasted two years. His long-term girlfriend was Kathryn Apanowicz, a the radio presenter and actress. The
newspapers nicknamed him “Twice Nightly Whiteley” as
he often appeared on both Countdown and Calendar in the same day. However this
could sometimes apply to his trouser mamba as the red-top newspapers reported
he’d had many girlfriends and fathered a son in the 1980s. Aged 64 he was taken
into hospital in Leeds with pneumonia. He wasn't recovering very quickly and doctors
found he was suffering from endocarditis (inflammation
of the heart). Surgeons performed an operation to fix it but it failed and Richard
died two days later.
I found the grave
in the back corner of the church, facing a hedge. There's little room for future burials. I bet
Richard booked this plot in a splendid rural Yorkshire setting many years ago
though I bet he didn't think he'd go so soon. "Broadcaster and Yorkshireman" are carved into the headstone. I ran my
fingers over the indentations, stepped back and did a salute. I'm not sure I'll
come this way again - I never have before. I wondered if the stonemason charged
extra for the "OBE". I was glad I'd parked the motorhome
away from a gate as when I returned to it a farmer atop a tractor was just
about the enter the abutting field. He looked like he's have bitten my head off
had I obstructed access. I stroked some friendly cows in the field across the
road and said "nice one" when one emitted a long rumbling trump worthy
of an elephant.
The view from Richard's headstone...
Cows across the road...
I'm sure this was the one that
delivered a trump that lasted for over ten seconds...
I spent the night by the road after
visiting Richard. It was almost silent at night...