Memories of Charlie Bear Appeal still strong

Oct 4 2008 by Tom Patterson, The Journal

Avril Dean was The Journal’s Women’s Editor when the Charlie Bear Appeal was launched to buy a whole body scanner for the North East. Today, she tells of the first time she met the charity’s founder and how The Journal stepped in to help.

THE first time I met Daisy Clark, she was lying on the floor of her immaculate semi in Morpeth, telling her devoted friend Connie how she would raise £1m by Christmas to buy a whole body scanner for the North East.

It was around seven weeks before Christmas, she was on her back because she was in such pain and I went into work at The Journal the next morning and told everyone I thought she was mad.

But people who met Daisy Clark didn’t forget her in a hurry – which was why a few years later I was proud and privileged to stand alongside Daisy when the £1m target was well and truly smashed and we cut the ribbon on the scanning suite in Newcastle General Hospital.

Daisy Clark wasn’t just an inspiration to work with, she was a beacon of hope for thousands of people throughout the North East. A cancer sufferer herself, she pushed herself through the pain barrier for years with just one goal in mind – to get that body scanner.

When her beloved husband Charles died from a heart attack very early in the campaign, it simply made her more determined to keep going. The teddy bears she had been making as a soft toy fundraiser became Charlie Bears in his honour and soon Daisy had roped in all her friends to sew bears for the fund.

Word spread and soon Daisy was inundated with requests for the bears. She badgered fabric suppliers for the fur and her friends and relatives for their old stockings and tights for the stuffing – and still the requests flooded in. Charlie Bear’s fame was spreading – but the money was slow coming in.

What was needed was a concerted effort and having taken Daisy to meet The Journal editor, it was soon clear that not only was she a force to be reckoned with but here was a cause that people everywhere could relate to. The launch of the Make Charlie Bear a Millionaire appeal followed soon after and with the backing of The Journal and its sister papers, it soon became the North’s favourite charity.

Every day brought a bulging postbag and heart-cheering tales of triumph over adversity, of courage in the face of sadness, of joy amid the sorrow. Everyone seemed to know someone who had been touched by cancer but the Charlie Bear fund was the ideal way to mark the fight, commemorate a life, celebrate a miracle. In the very real sense of the word it was fantastic.

Every Friday I would transport the takings to the White House near Newcastle General Hospital to hand over to the trust’s cashiers. Almost every night Daisy and I were somewhere different, accepting cheques, opening events, speaking to groups of people about the value of their donations, saying thank you, thank you, thank you. And every week the total would be published in The Journal showing us how much closer we were to that vital life-saving goal.

We laughed – and cried – a lot, and travelled thousands of miles. We sifted through tonnes of clothing in the Charlie Bear charity shop in Morpeth and drank so much coffee at coffee mornings that I suspect that’s why a wide-awake Daisy used to sew Charlie Bears throughout the night. I once went to a fundraiser in a social club where I was introduced as the person who’d come to ‘jeopardise for Daisy Clark’. I was never so honoured in my life.

Even today, 30 years since the start of that campaign, I hold the memory close as my single most precious achievement. I learned such a lot about the power of faith – Daisy’s was undimmed throughout her life – and the strength of prayer. I remain in awe of the knowledge and expertise of the doctors in our region and the selfless work of so many behind the scenes. I am proud too to have written for a newspaper that took on a challenge and encouraged its loyal readers to show their very best side.

When one of my closest friends had a baby in July and called her Daisy, I welled up and felt a surge of pride remembering her namesake’s bequest to the region. It was pre-lottery, of course, and a million pounds then wasn’t just a footballer’s salary but a vast sum of money.

Though there have probably been numerous new versions of whole body scanners since that first one, there was never one delivered with so much blood, sweat, tears – and love.

Long live Charlie Bear.