Best job in the City
As our new Lord Mayor, Roger Gifford, was “shown” to the people, my mind
turned to the 684 previous holders of this office. They have trotted, floated
and rolled their way through 800 years of history which have encompassed civil
war, devastating plagues, great fires and the Blitz.
Our
early Mayors rode about on horseback. The swords they wore were sometimes more
than a fashion statement: Mayor William Walworth used his to slay the rebel
Watt Tyler, and was knighted in the field. In his case, “Smithfield”.
Some Mayors
distinguished themselves in less violent ways. The most famous, Dick
Whittington, held the office on four occasions; when he died childless, he left everything to charity. Charles Duncombe, who
was frequently thrashed for arriving late for work as a young apprentice, vowed
that if he ever became Lord Mayor he would present a timepiece to the church he
passed daily. St Magnus Martyr still displays the clock he donated in 1709.
Brass Crosby was thrown into the Tower for championing free speech in 1770. He
was reprieved when 50,000 Londoners besieged the fortress.
Others
are remembered less fondly. The hapless Sir Thomas Bludworth went back to bed
after commenting that “a woman could piss out” the flames rising in Pudding
Lane on 3 September 1666.
Some Lord Mayors have broken new ground. The very first
Mayor was Henry FitzAilwyn in 1189. We had to wait 794 years for our first Lady
Mayor, Mary Donaldson, in 1983. After the tragic death of Henry V in 1422, Mayor
William Walderne was asked not to ride through the streets but instead to go by
barge to Westminster, making his “showing” the first by river. In 1855 the City had its first
Jewish Mayor in David Salomons.
The
Mayor’s office is associated with ceremonial splendour and mouth-watering
banquets, but things don’t always go to plan. Spare a thought for Sebastian
Harvey in 1618. James I selected this Lord Mayor’s day to execute Sir Walter
Raleigh in the hope that the pageant would draw the crowds away from the Tower.
As any events promoter would have predicted, poor Harvey rode through empty
streets while the crowds thronged to Tower Hill. In 1944 the dinner John Newton-Smith
gave to the Turners Company in Mansion House was subject to wartime regulations.
The 5/- budget meal ran to mock turtle
soup, roast chicken and trifle – no doubt made more palatable by ’34 Macon & an ’08 Crofts
port! Or would you rather have been one of the guests at Thomas Strong’s
banquet in 1910? The meal would have been lavish, but you would have toasted
the Mayor with tea. Thomas Strong was teetotal.
It’s a
great honour to become Lord Mayor but a surprising number have gone out of
their way avoid the appointment, and have even preferred to pay a fine rather
than take it up. The mayor doesn’t draw a salary and expenses are heavy. Some holders of the office
have even ended up in debtor’s prison.
Many colourful Lord Mayors have left their mark but two who stand out
for me. First, John Wells who made play with his name at his pageant in 1431.
Three wells in Cheapside flowed with wine; shading the wells were trees hung
with almonds, dates, oranges and lemons. Secondly, Brook Watson, London’s only
one legged Mayor. The missing limb was eaten
by a shark when the young Watson was swimming in Havana Harbour. Opponents
scorned Watson’s intellect, yet he rose to become Governor of the Bank of
England. We might still argue whether the holder of that post needs to be
nimble or brainy.
Answers to the Lord Mayor’s Blog
“Do you know?”
1.
b, 2. a, 3. c,
4. a, 5. b, 6. b, 7. c, 8. b, 9. a, 10. b