The Longside Reference

HILDA LORD A TRIBUTE
THE END OF AN ERA

When Hilda Lord died at the age of 98 in March this year, 2006, it was I suppose the end of the Lord era. I know that Margaret and Barbara, the two Lord daughters are still living and I know that they are both still Clarets through and through, but with the death of Hilda Lord, a sad moment arrived. We oldies will appreciate what I am saying. Younger fans will probably say “Hilda Lord…Hilda who… who on earth is Hilda Lord?” The answer I suppose is that behind every great man stands a great woman, and Bob Lord in the fifties and sixties at Burnley was truly a great man. It is in his later years that his greatness becomes clouded and questionable. But whatever the circumstances, Hilda Lord was the wife who was both behind and with him all the way.

Their early meetings were at the boarding house that her mother ran with an Aunt in Blackpool. Bob would go there after work on a Saturday sometimes so tired that he had to be woken up on the train as it arrived in Blackpool. Then it was back to Burnley on Sunday evening. There is a story, though Barbara Lord has no recollection of this, that he had visited the boarding house for a holiday, spent most of the holiday ill in bed, being nursed by Hilda and her mother and that this is how they had first met. He had come back to Burnley saying that he’d had a terrible week but met his future wife.

 Hilda Lord devoted her life to the support of her husband Bob, working in the business in the office, and sharing with him all the great triumphs and glories of the sixties and then that brief flowering of the club in the mid seventies. Grand celebratory dinners, or parties at the Lord household, hosted by Hilda and Bob, accompanied those wonderful years. These were great times to be connected with Burnley Football Club.

The term absentee husband would not go amiss however. If he was not at the club, or his factory, he was at meeting after meeting. And when he returned home, Bob expected his meal on the table at all hours of the evening, or collection from the station on his return from his travels. In his early life, he worked all hours to promote his business, and there beside him was Hilda. Breakfast in bed on a Sunday with the newspapers was routine for Bob. It was Hilda who cooked the breakfast. The order of priorities was the club, work and then home. He worked in his factory in the morning, came home for a nap and lunch (served by Hilda) and then went to the club. If it was 9 or 10 o clock when he returned, Hilda was expected to have his dinner on the table, regardless. 

At the club itself, which Bob ran like a despot, Hilda ran the Ladies room, and Margaret Potts will testify to the high standards she set in decorum, etiquette and dress. When Margaret Potts appeared in a trouser suit, at a time when this was unheard of, Hilda was not best pleased. When the sociable Margaret sometimes strayed into the men’s room, she would be reminded of where she was supposed to be. Segregation ruled supreme. This is not to suggest that Hilda was as tyrannical as Bob, it was merely a reflection of the times. If Burnley Football Club was a bastion of male supremacy for decades, it was Hilda who was Bob’s lieutenant, and made sure it stayed so. 

 Both Hilda and Bob Lord were good friends of the Potts family, particularly Harry Potts’ mother and father who always received special treatment from the Lords. It is sometimes said that Harry was the son that Hilda and Bob would loved to have had. In the later years the close relationship with Harry faded and for several years there was no contact, until at the very end as soon as Harry found out how ill Bob Lord was; he visited him at the earliest opportunity.

John Jackson succeeded Bob Lord as Burnley chairman. His daughter Rebekah Jackson remembers Hilda well. “She was very strict about what we all wore and standards of behaviour and manners were all set by Hilda. We all had to call her Mrs Lord and I was definitely made to keep quiet, as I was a teenager and not an adult. We ladies had to sit in the corner and eat our sandwiches, drink our tea, and make small talk with the ladies from the opposing team.”

Marilyn Jackson too remembers her well.  “Her bark was much worse than her bite. I remember coming into the Ladies Room as the next in line to her, in as much as that although Doc Iven was vice-chairman, his wife never attended. Then next in seniority was Roger Hargreaves and it was only his sister that came – Elsie. Also always in attendance was Mrs Lord’s sister – Florence – known to everybody as Aunty Flo. Mrs Lord was actually very kind to me – I was taught to pour the tea, offer the cakes and sandwiches around, and serve alcoholic drinks. I know this sounds Victorian and it was a bit. We were all segregated from the men. Originally, we all had our own room, and outsiders had to knock before entering. Then, and I can’t remember the reason why, we were moved to the vice president’s room and to begin with I didn’t like being with the hoi polloi. Visiting ladies knew they had to be on their best behaviour when visiting Burnley because Hilda Lord had the best football etiquette in all the Divisions and she did look down on the flashy wives of new chairmen, sort of saying, what do you expect, nobody has taught them any better. She certainly taught me, and she was always Mrs. Lord to me. After the last game of the season I would get a kiss from her and she would always say ‘this is the worst day of the year for me, what on earth am I going to do until the start of next season.’ She knew everybody in football, Matt Busby’s wife was a friend of hers, and she was in awe of no one, because she knew that nobody could match the knowledge of the Football League that she and her husband had. I found her fair, jolly and unpretentious and I dread to think what she eventually thought of today’s football.”

Outside of the club though she was not a person who suffered fools gladly; people remember her as a lively woman, easy to talk to with a fantastic enthusiasm for Burnley Football Club. She was bright as a bobbin, not at all what you would expect of Bob Lord’s wife, and with a wicked sense of humour. Barbara too says she could mix with anybody comfortably, with Royalty one day, with a tramp the next.

Not too long ago in a radio match report, Stuart Hall paid affectionate homage to her flower pot hat, decorated with flora, from behind which he would enjoy the delights of watching players like Jimmy McIlroy and Jimmy Adamson when Burnley were in their pomp. Jimmy McIlroy tells the apocryphal, perhaps slightly tongue in cheek story that it was Hilda who instructed Bob that “McIlroy must go” on the occasion of his mysterious transfer in 1963, the reasons for which people still scratch their heads in puzzlement. Her daughter Barbara describes this story as nonsense. “My mother would never have said anything like that. Football was never discussed in the house. If she asked something as simple as who was playing tomorrow, she would have been told to buy a programme. On the rare occasions that the club was mentioned at home it was often to do with the state of the old Brunshaw Road stand that Bob Lord worried about constantly. On any really windy night he’d hope to goodness it wouldn’t blow down and he would talk of it being a fire hazard due to its wooden construction.

I never met Hilda Lord but one story illustrates that she also had a heart of gold and was a remarkable woman. When Steve Kindon signed for Burnley and began his second spell at the club, Bob Lord offered him all manner of things to persuade him to return, including offering to give him his prized gold pen if he would sign on the dotted line. Steve who confesses he had no intention of signing again duly signed. “Is he ours now,” Bob asked Harry Potts. “Yes Mr Lord,” replied Harry. As Steve slowly pocketed the pen, Bob decided he would have it back. “Then in that case I’ll have my pen back Steven please.”

     Years later after Bob had died and Harry Potts had left the club, Steve was playing at Huddersfield, having been part of an economy clearout. But he still lived in Burnley, and Hilda visited him one night. “There was a knock at the door, and to my amazement, there was Hilda Lord. Now Hilda knew I had always loved Bob and she also knew the story of the gold pen. After I had signed there had been a party at Bob’s house on the Saturday night and he had told everyone the story of the pen and how he’d tricked me and they’d all had a good laugh. But Hilda had obviously remembered and maybe thought that’s not right. So I asked her to come in and as she came in she told me she was sorting out Bob’s affairs. She fished in her handbag and pulled out the gold pen. This is yours I think Stephen she said and gave it to me. I’ve never forgotten that, and years later I still have the pen.”

     It is true to say that a particularly unique lady has passed away. She played a huge part in the history of Burnley Football Club; she had a singular and special role, she looked after Bob Lord through thick and thin and for better or worse. It is unlikely that there are secrets, confidences and stories she might have known; it is highly doubtful that she ever knew why Jimmy Mac was transferred. But even if she had known she would never have said a word to anyone about Burnley matters. She deserves the highest praise.

Dave Thomas, Thursday March 30th, 2006