How Whitby and its famous lucky ducks helped "a broken young lass" heal

Thursday June 19 was the final day that a world-famed Whitby shop was open.

After 68 years the iconic Lucky Duck era - which has seen the tiny hand-blown glass ducks end up in virtually every country in the world - is over.

In the final week of trading, Sandgate - where the Lucky Duck shop was - saw unprecedented scenes as it was jammed with queues of people, from all over the country, desperate to get their hands on a duck.

It was reminiscent of the throngs that used to, back in the day, besiege Harrod's at sales' time.

The closure came after the death, at age 93, of Dorothy Clegg - former Mayor of Scarborough and Whitby - who ran Whitby Glass (the official name of the Lucky Ducks' home) and lived over the shop.

Here her long-time friend and neighbour, Maggie Hall, reveals the tragedy that brought Dorothy to Whitby - a town she made her own and served as a town and borough Councillor as a thanks for the welcome and kindness bestowed upon her.

It was 1965 and Dorothy Clegg knew nothing about the small historic fishing town, 130 miles from her Lancashire home.

A town that was in the beginnings of carving out a name as a seaside getaway.

But Whitby was the place she tuned to in her desperate bid to put her life back together.

A tough task, but one she eventually accomplished.

Whitby became her home. The adopted home she never left.

And throughout those long years she tried to pay back Whitby for all the help she found within the town and its people.

And again she succeeded. Did she ever.

Her contribution to The Haven Under The Hill community turned her into a legendary figure.

Only recent incomers will not instantly know who Dorothy was: long time Town and Borough Councillor and former Mayor, first of Whitby then of Scarborough and of course of Lucky Duck fame!

It was a casual link with the latter that led her, in those darkest of days, to Whitby.

Dorothy, a high school English teacher, a graduate of Manchester and Bristol Universities, had been married just four years where she was plunged into despair.

She'd met her husband Alan, a plumber, through their mutual enthusiam for caving and pot-holing, which she had taken up while at Bristol studying for

her teacher certification.

On her return to Lancashire she joined the Blackburn pot-holing club, of which Alan was a leading light.

Their shared hobby took his life - and virtually wrecked hers.

The March 1965 pot-hole disaster that killed Alan made tragic headlines – he drowned in a diving exploration of Lancaster Hole in Cumbria.

As she struggled with widow-hood a friend of Alan's reached out and invited Dorothy to visit Whitby.

She did. The friend was Peter Rantlell.

Dorothy recalled to me often how “he opened the door and I never left”.

Peter owned and ran Whitby Glass and came up with the concept of Lucky Ducks.

Dorothy taught in Whitby but after learning how to make the ducks, quit.

By this time Dorothy had been welcomed into Peter's family and she made her home with them.

A few years later her mother moved to Whitby – and so began her political life.

It was her mother who urged her to run for Whitby Town Council.

Her first campaign carried a simple message: "Vote for Dorothy” read the poster plastered around town.

Within a few years she was Mayor of Whitby.

Recalling that time Dorothy, shortly before her death, told me: “I remember going up the Steps, looking over Whitby and thinking 'Will I be good enough to look after this wonderful, special place'."

It was a concern that motivated her over many years as she continued her political and council work.

For quite a while she represented Streonshalh ward as an Independent.

But when she realised that, despite all her devoted hard-work on behalf of her loyal constituents, she would never become chair of a committee, she switched to standing as a Conservative.

As a result her council career soared and she is well remembered for her tireless work as head of planning.

Today, thanks and recognition go to a very special group of Whitby women who, like all those decades ago, have echoed the help from the town that ensured Dorothy got the care she needed as a broken young woman.

I'm talking about “Dorothy's Girls” - ie Joanne, Paula, Tiffany and Rachel, who worked for her for many years and when she became sick and frail cared for her as “family”.

Dorothy, I know, was very fond of them and enormously grateful for them being in her life.

Just as she was for those Whitby folk who, long ago, as a lost soul, took her in.