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Lord and Lady Docker - The Posh n Becks of the 50's


dune
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My old man grew up outside of Winchester and used to speak about Lord and Lady Docker and their son Lance (who wasn't particularly liked by the local lads as he'd be seen driving around in his flash cars when they were very poor - rural Hampshire wasn't the reserve of stockbrokers and accountants in those days!).

 

Does anyone else have any memories of these famous "locals"?

 

 

50s_10.jpg

 

HE died, blind and Confined to bed because of illness or infirmity in a quiet Bournemouth nursing home 27 years ago. And so ended one of the 20th Century's truly great double acts.

 

Nope, they weren't a stage partnership, although they made the whole world their stage. They would have been naturals for I'm A Celebrity - although for them it wouldn't be ``get me out of here'' but ``we're being kicked out of here''.

 

They weren't fussy. They were just as likely to be kicked out of Morecambe as glitzy Monaco. And they had a let 'em eat cake style that today's C-list celebs can only envy.

 

Bernard Docker was born in Edgbaston, Birmingham, the only child of Frank Dudley Docker an industrialist. In May 1978 made head-lines, bringing rivers of reminiscences from all who knew him and wife Norah, especially those tabloid hacks who happily chronicled their lurid life and times. For they lit the Fifties with laughter. They had it. They flaunted it. And austerity Britain loved 'em for it.

 

They paraded their wealth with a sort of endearing innocence. Not for them any old Daimler. Their Daimler had to be gold-plated with zebra skin upholstery, ivory inlay. Their yacht, the Shemara, cost £800,000 at a time when a tenner was a fair week's wage. They owned a 3,000-acre Hampshire estate and a castle in North Wales. Meanwhile Lady Docker could have given Posh Spice lessons in conspicuous consumption.

 

But it wasn't what they had that made them gossip column darlings. It was what they did.

 

Sir Bernard Docker was chairman and managing director of the mighty British Small Arms company when they met and married in 1949. He was 53, son of a super-rich industrialist.

 

The 44-year-old Norah brought more money to the partnership from her former marriages to a wealthy wine merchant and to tycoon Sir William Collins, always described as "The Salt King''.

 

It was as moment-ous a meeting as whisky and soda - or maybe nitro glycerin. Explosive? You bet.

 

We've heard lately about ``shock and awe''. That described the BSA managers and shareholders: awed by their boss's extravagances including that gold-plated Daimler, shocked by his sudden playboy lifestyle. It couldn't last. Sir Bernard was bounced out of BSA in 1956 and from then on the Dockers carried on doing what they did best - enjoying life.

 

The country loved 'em. Norah, already a Conker Queen, became first Ladies' Marbles Champion of Yorkshire, winning her matches in Castleford while kneeling on a gold satin cushion, wearing a £300 gown of peacock-blue satin, diamond bracelets up to her elbows. Naturally, the Dockers arrived in their Daimler and the town turned out to welcome them.

 

No welcome in Monaco, though.

 

When Prince Rainier told Norah she couldn't take her son Lance into his palace for a christening, she announced: "I am at war with Prince Rainier.'' Then she tore up the flag of Monaco. The furious Rainier banned her from his postage stamp-sized principality and 125 miles of Riviera coastline but consolation came immediately: an invitation to open the Canvey Island carnival. She did it. In style. The Dockers returned to the Riviera, of course. Without them, it was Blackpool without the Tower. But it was in Blackpool's neighbour Morecambe where Norah next made headlines.

 

The couple switched on the town's illuminations, but at the end of a long, Champagne-fuelled night, Lady Docker announced to the mayor and self-important civic dignitaries, "You obviously do not appreciate me...and tomorrow morning you can all jump into Morecambe Bay.''

 

Not content with upsetting Morecambe, Lady Docker delighted her fans by insulting Italy's police. Benito Pellegrino, an officer on the Isle of Capri, told a Naples court that a drunken Lady Docker hopped out of her car, ripped off his official cap, jumped on it then embraced him shouting `"Kiss me.'' She was cleared. Such behaviour, observed the magistrate, was not unusual in Capri at four in the morning.

 

As the Sixties slipped into the Seventies, the Dockers' life became less frenetic. And then after Sir Bernard died, Norah lived on alone. She was 78 in 1983 when she died in London's Great Western Hotel, her home for much of the year.

 

Remember them as a middle-aged Posh`n'Becks.

 

But much more fun...

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Mate was a deck hand on there in the mid 80's?? and just used to spend all his time scrubbing floors and polishing the brass (as well as spending very long lunches in the Waterfront and that Yellow Welly Cafe down Shamrock Quay).

 

Not sure who owned the Shemara at that point?

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Not memories of them, but when I used to work at the IBA at Crawley we used to hire the tennis courts at Heath House (where the Dockers used to live) at lunchtime. There was an indoor swimming pool alongside which was decorated in traditional 1950s kitsch, complete with bar and turquoise tiling and had once been the scene of riotous partying. If the ladies were not around we would finish after the games with a spot of skinny-dipping.

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Mate was a deck hand on there in the mid 80's?? and just used to spend all his time scrubbing floors and polishing the brass (as well as spending very long lunches in the Waterfront and that Yellow Welly Cafe down Shamrock Quay).

 

Not sure who owned the Shemara at that point?

 

Welcome back. It is odd you pop up on a thread reminising about old times. All we need is 19C back and it's business as usual.

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