Henry Cooper

by Norman Giller

  From then on, Henry and I could hardly talk to each other without being choked up over the loss of our wives, our best friends.

  We were both so lucky to find such wonderful wives. When Albina and I were at Eileen’s funeral, we wondered how you were going to be able to cope. Well, now I’ve got the same challenge.

  I am lost without her. She looked after me hand and foot, was my ears and my eyes. To be honest, I am really struggling. I’ve got a candle in front of my favourite photograph of her and I light it every night in her memory. I take her ashes in an urn with me if ever I am staying somewhere overnight. I know that sounds morbid, but it just sort of keeps me in touch

  She’ll tell me off for being so soppy, but I just don’t know how I’m going to manage without her. I’ve got the two boys and their wives and my grandchildren, and they are all being very supportive. Henry, in particular, is being a rock for me. He has taken over from Albina in getting me organised and ferrying me to and from my various appointments, but life’s just not the same anymore. Always thought I’d go first. I’m in shock; just can’t take it in.

  Henry and I last met up at Harry Carpenter’s memorial service at St Bride’s Church, off Fleet Street. Henry Junior was in charge of him and flitting around in the same conscientious and caring way that his mother had for so many years as Henry’s right (and left) hand. I was shocked at how frail and feeble the old champion looked but I got the same cheerful ‘Watchyer, Norm!’ greeting and big smile he had given me when we first met at the Thomas a Becket gymnasium fifty-two years earlier. That day at St Bride’s, I mourned the passing of Harry Carpenter and worried about my friend Sir Henry Cooper.

  To compound his desolation, Henry’s inseparable twin brother George passed on in the spring of 2010 after a long debilitating illness that had confined him to home for many months.

  For the one and only time, Henry – Sir Henry – was ready to throw in the towel.

  ROUND 15

  THE FINAL BELL

  Death came in the afternoon of May Day 2011 and I know dear Henry would not object to me making as light of it as I can. For many years we had ribbed each other over his support of Arsenal and mine for bitter rivals Tottenham. How poignant, then, that he should die while watching his beloved Arsenal play Manchester United on television.

  Our hero had been living for several months at Henry Marco’s home in Oxted, Surrey, being nursed through what his loving son knew would be his final days. His dad had been diagnosed with a worsening defective heart in January 2010 and his life expectancy was given as no more than fifteen months.

  He was sitting in an armchair, dozing in and out of the match, and Henry Junior went into the kitchen to get him a snack. ‘When I returned, Dad was slumped in the chair,’ Henry said. ‘I knew straight away that he’d gone. It was, thank God, quick and painless. The last thing he said to me was, “What’s the score?”’ Aaron Ramsey had scored a winning goal for Arsenal so that would have pleased Aitch.

  While his passing was desperately sad, it was not a major shock to those who knew him well. We were all of the opinion that he had lost the will to live the moment of the passing of his precious Albina, followed soon afterwards by the departure of George.

  He died just about the same time as Bin Laden was killed in the raid in Pakistan, so suddenly the newspapers and television programmes were awash with news of the assassination. But space was also found to give Henry the send-off he deserved, and the response to his passing was staggering. This was for an ex-boxer who had not fought for forty years.

  Henry Marco and John Pietro were buried under an avalanche of sympathy messages and tributes from all around the world. ‘The world has lost a true gentleman’ was the message from Muhammad Ali, just one of the many accolades compiled in the ‘Homage to a Hero’ section later in this book.

  The sun came out for Sir Henry on his final journey. Hundreds of fans paid their last respects to our hero, lining the leafy streets of Oxted in Surrey as the cortège – Sir Henry’s coffin draped with the Union Jack and on top a red wreath in the shape of a boxing glove and ‘Our Enery’ spelt out in white chrysanthemums – slowly passed by on its way to the funeral service in Tonbridge, Kent, eighteen miles away. The family wisely decided on a private thanksgiving service for Henry because a public funeral would have brought Tonbridge to a standstill. Sir Henry, for all his fabled fame, was not a man who enjoyed fuss.

  The Cooper family – Henry Marco, John Pietro, their wives, children, aunts, uncles and cousins – were all just about cried out, Henry’s death coming when the tears had hardly dried for the passing of Albina and George. The emotionally charged service was conducted by Father Tom McElhone at the Corpus Christi Church, sunshine sending shimmering shafts of rainbow light through the beautiful stained-glass windows. There was a staggering turnout, with celebrities and sporting superstars mixed in with family and close friends. Sitting immediately to the right of me were Sir Bruce Forsyth and Cliff Morgan; to my left, Sir Terry Wogan, Peter Alliss, Lawrie McMenemy, goalkeeping legend Pat Jennings and the ever-faithful Patsy Martin; in the pew behind, Barry McGuigan, Des Lynam and major sportswriters Hugh McIlvanney and Colin Hart; over there, Sir Bobby Charlton, Kenny Lynch, Kevin Keegan and Sir Trevor Brooking; behind, Russ Abbot, former Arsenal chief executive Ken Friar, Henry’s old opponent Billy Walker, promoter Ron Gray, entrepreneurs Terry and Freda Baker, and in front, Henry’s long-time golfing pal, Jimmy Tarbuck.

  It was Jimmy who spoke for us all in a suitably respectful but amusing eulogy, simply yet so accurately calling Henry ‘a very, very nice man’. Tarby brought laughter to go with the tears when he told how he was with a group of celebrities at a golf tournament in Devon when, at his bidding, everybody at their hotel dining table stood up and started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Henry, who sat looking blank because it was not his birthday. In no time, bottles of champagne began arriving at the table from fellow guests. ‘See, Aitch,’ Jimmy told Henry, ‘now you feel as if it’s your birthday!’

  Jimmy then got the tear ducts working as he added: ‘Henry was, in the words of his Cockney fans, a real diamond geezer. To be born a gentleman, as he was, is an accident; but to die one is a real achievement. Henry has left us to be with his lover, best friend and organiser, Albina.’

  Henry Marco and John Pietro gave their idolised dad the dignified send-off he deserved. The simple yet reverential Requiem Mass reflected Henry’s devout Roman Catholic faith. He was borne in to ‘Amazing Grace’ before Henry Marco welcomed the congregation ahead of the singing of ‘Abide With Me’.

  There were readings by Neal and Daryl Cooper and the bidding prayers were led by Barbara Cooper. Father Nolan gave the Gospel acclamation; he had married Henry and Albina fifty years earlier and guided Aitch through his conversion to Roman Catholicism. ‘Henry will be remembered for his feats in the boxing ring,’ said Father Nolan, ‘but equally for being an exemplary human being who was always looking to help others less fortunate than himself.’

  Other hymns included Henry’s personal favourites ‘Guide Me O Thou Great Redeemer’, ‘Ave Maria’ and ‘Jerusalem’. The sword never slept in Henry’s hand and he brought joy to England’s green and pleasant land.

  The exit music had everybody half crying and half laughing. It was a recording that Henry – not the greatest singer – had made in the 1970s of an old Cockney song, ‘Knock Me Down With A Feather’, with a chorus that could have been dedicated to Albina:

  Well, you can knock me down with a feather,

  So long as we’re always together,

  I’ll never fall out of love with you…

  As we walked out into the afternoon sunlight behind Henry’s coffin, there was an outbreak of polite, respectful applause from hundreds of members of the general public, who had found their way through the police cordon surrounding the roads leading to the church.

  The immediate family went on to the crematorium for a private final service, with Henry’s ashes later being mixed with those of Alb
ina.

  Meanwhile, the rest of us headed for the wake at Henry’s second home, the London Golf Club near Brands Hatch, where everybody paid homage to Sir Henry Cooper, A Hero for All Time.

  HOMAGE TO A HERO

  And so I reach the end of my journey through Henry Cooper’s life and times. It was only the day before yesterday that he first greeted me with what was to become that famous smile, a crushing handshake that was semaphore for sincerity and the warmly delivered: ‘Watchyer, Norm’.

  No, my mind is playing tricks. It was actually fifty-three years ago, and he greeted me in exactly the same way the last time we met, at Harry Carpenter’s memorial service in St Bride’s Church in Fleet Street.

  The adventure he had experienced between those two greetings was a rollercoaster – mainly ups, occasional downs, never, ever dull and always with optimism, expectation and faith as travelling companions.

  For Henry, the peak was not the punch that famously knocked down Cassius Clay. No, the peak by far was meeting and falling in love with the gorgeous, the sensitive, the affectionate Albina, his strength and his shield, the love of his life.

  I am deeply grateful and honoured that their sons, Henry Marco and John Pietro, have given their blessing for this book and I hope I have provided at least a flavour of the qualities and experiences that made their father a Hero for All Time.

  If you have been at all moved by the story and share with me the admiration and respect for all that Henry did for charity, please join me in making a donation, no matter how small, to the Sir Henry Cooper Charity Fund, so that we can help carry on the work that Our Enery performed with all his energy and total sincerity.

  Contact me by email at henry@normangillerbooks.co.uk for full details of how you can contribute, or make direct payments to the Sir Henry Cooper Charity Fund, Lloyds TSB Bank, account number 22643860, sort code: 30-97-49.

  To make this a complete portrait of our hero, I want to capture how Sir Henry was revered and respected throughout the twin worlds of sport and showbusiness in which he moved so comfortably and graciously. Tributes following his passing poured in on a tide of tears and his sons, Henry Marco and John Pietro, and their wives worked overtime to respond to as many as possible.

  Most of the following accolades I have gathered myself; others have been passed on by the family and old Fleet Street colleagues. A parade of knights from sport and showbusiness queued to pay their respects and to talk from the heart about our hero.

  MUHAMMAD ALI:

  I am at a loss for words over the death of my dear friend Henry Cooper. I was not aware he was ill and so his passing came as a huge shock. I looked on him not as a former opponent but as a great friend. I visited with him two summers ago during a brief visit to Windsor, as part of the Equestrian Games being held there. He was in good humour and looked quite fit.

  Henry always had a smile for me, a warm and embracing smile. We met many times after our two contests, in both of which he gave me lots of problems, including that punch that shook up my ancestors in Africa. If he had not cut so easily, he would have been an even more successful boxer.

  It was always a pleasure being in Henry’s company. I will miss my old friend. He was a great fighter and a gentleman, in and out of the ring. My family and I extend our heartfelt sympathies to his family and loved ones. He will be greatly missed.

  SIR BOBBY CHARLTON:

  We knew Henry was unwell, but it still came as a sad surprise when Norma and I heard he had died. From the moment he lost Albina, we knew he was in trouble. She was his rock and shield.

  Henry and I knew each other throughout our sporting careers and became good friends after we had both retired. Norma and Albina got on famously. He was always unassuming, and comfortable to be with and his smile lit up the room. For a man who was so violent inside the ring, he was a real gentle giant away from boxing. It was difficult to imagine that this was the same person who had knocked down Cassius Clay.

  He loved his football and told me that if he had not taken up boxing he might have had a career as a goalkeeper. Henry would certainly have filled a lot of the goal with that big frame of his. He was an Arsenal supporter, of course, and I used to tell him it was the wrong colour red. His fame transcended sport, and he was a wonderful role model for any young people looking for an example of how to conduct themselves both in and out of their sport. The work he did for charity captured the man. He was always trying to help others. He will be hugely missed, but always warmly remembered.

  SIR TERRY WOGAN:

  We will never see another Henry. They threw away the mould. He was not only a great champion of boxing, but a champion of human beings. His work for charity, much of it done quietly and out of the public eye, was quite extraordinary. For all his achievements and fame, he managed to stay that same affable, unassuming Henry, with whom the British public have had a long love affair. Now he is reunited with his beloved Albina.

  He truly measured up to the image of a great sporting hero, meeting those two impostors triumph and disaster and treating them both the same. The final bell has tolled, but he will live on in the memory.

  SIR MICHAEL PARKINSON:

  I think a measure of Henry is that I have never known anybody who did not like him, even his former opponents. My old chat show adversary Muhammad Ali was full of praise for him, as a boxer but more so as a man. He was generous with his time, was kind, and could be very humorous. If Henry was in your company you could bet there would soon be laughter.

  He was the best kind of athlete, the best kind of boxer; he wasn’t boastful, he was genuinely modest and a gentleman. I consider him in the same way as I do Bobby Charlton – the two of them represent something which I think has gone out of sport rather, that kind of hero. His work for many charities was just astounding. He never allowed fame to change him and was and always will be Our Enery.

  SIR BRUCE FORSYTH:

  I always followed Henry’s boxing career and got to know him well through our mutual love for golf. He gave everything he had to everything he did, whether it was in the boxing ring or working for charities. What a role model for sportsmen. He showed by example how to lead a life in and out of the sports arena. I felt privileged to know him and to call him a friend. He will be greatly missed but never forgotten. He is a sporting legend.

  SIR TREVOR BROOKING:

  Henry was without question one of the most loved people in the country, whether you knew anything about sport or not. He made a name for himself in the world of boxing, but his fame transcended anything he did in the ring because of the way he conducted himself away from his sport. Henry always had time for people and his fundraising for charities was a thing of legend.

  He loved football and in particular Arsenal, and it was very moving to hear that he passed away while watching the Gunners play Manchester United on television. A big, bright light has gone out on the sporting stage.

  SIR DAVID FROST:

  I recall being at a Best of British Millennium Lunch hosted by the Queen. Henry was there, along with, among many others: Dame Vera Lynn, Roger Bannister, and Bobby Charlton. That’s the sort of bracket Henry can be counted in. A real national treasure. The last time I saw him was in 2008 at a Michael Parkinson book launch. He had lost his wonderful wife not long before, and was looking weary. But it still came as a shock to hear of his passing. He was a wonderful ambassador for the Best of British.

  SIR ROGER BANNISTER:

  Henry and I attended many events together over the last fifty or more years. We go back a long way, because we were both members of the 1952 Olympic team in Helsinki. I always found him a very affable and modest man, and it was hard to imagine him trying to hurt an opponent in the ring. I am deeply saddened to hear of his passing, and British sport has lost a man who set high standards of sportsmanship and dedication.

  SIR IAN BOTHAM:

  Henry and I had A Question of Sport in common, and I followed him as a team captain. He and Cliff Morgan set high standards when the show was firs
t launched. I have met him many times on the charity and after-dinner speaking circuit and never found him anything less than cheerful and good company. He was a legend in boxing, and even people who know nothing about boxing knew of Henry and his ’Ammer. He was one of the most popular British sportsmen of any time, and will be greatly missed.

  JIMMY TARBUCK:

  It was an honour to give the eulogy for dear old Henry – a great responsibility, because I was speaking on behalf of the nation about a man who was a national treasure.

  We loved him on the celebrity golf circuit because he was such good company: never the greatest golfer, but always dreaming of being the best. Pity about his hook! He could take a joke and a lot of leg-pulling went on, but he never once lost that genial, gentle giant image. I never saw him turn down a request for an autograph, and he was always last to leave our fundraising tournaments because he was giving so much time to the public. Yes, a nice man. A very nice man.

  RONNIE CORBETT:

  The last time we were all together with Henry was for Tarby’s Golden Wedding in Mayfair, and he was still mourning the loss of his wonderful wife, Albina. I prefer to think of him as the cheerful and ebullient man at the centre of so many of our golfing get-togethers. He loved his golf, particularly when he knew that by playing he was helping a charity raise money for a good cause. Henry was a huge favourite of the galleries and he always had a large following watching him hook his way around the course. We used to joke that he played more like Gladys Cooper, and he took it all in good spirit. He truly was one of a kind, and a pleasant, ultra-polite man that you just could not imagine hammering opponents to the canvas. Thanks for the memories, Henry.