Obituary – Mike Black

I found out today that someone I’d known, over 50 years, passed away a few weeks ago.

I didn’t know him intimately nor was he ever a close friend

He was probably unaware of the deep affection in which he was held – not just by me – but by the many people who in the 1960’s frequented a Macclesfield coffee bar.

We all knew The Cavendish Coffee Bar as ‘The Cav’ – and for many years it was the place where I spent a large part of my social life.

The owners, Mike and Myra Black, must have known we didn’t have a lot of money – so would allow me and many others to sit, for hours on end, nursing a solitary Coke or coffee.

I still remember the first time I entered that wonderful place.

It was a Saturday evening in 1962, I was fifteen years of age, suited and booted, trying to look older than my years.

I was heading for The El Rio – not the restaurant (later to become Mash) – but the dancehall that stands where Aldi now does.

I was desperate to appear cool, so decided to order an espresso – in my ignorance I requested an ‘expresso’.

Mike responded with the smile that I would become used to, some words of welcome and served me.

I immediately felt the warmth of the man, but could never have imagined what an enormous impact Mike – and his lovely wife Myra – would have on me.

For the following four or five years The Cav was to become the centre of my life, a home from home, a meeting place for me and my friends – and even, at times, a sanctuary.

Virtually every evening and many weekends were spent there – meeting friends – old and new.

I recall having a girlfriend in Stockport. One of the several scooters I’d owned was out of action – so I was unable to visit her. The call box in The Cav was a black coin-in-the-slot job – fastened to the wall at the back of the cafe. I never understood why but calls never seemed to cost more than 2d (two old pence). On this occasion I must have talked to my girl over the phone for well over an hour. Having finally run out of things to say I’d replaced the receiver. Within seconds the phone rang and Mike picked up the call. it was the operator telling him how much he owed for that last call – my call.

He chewed me off, but knowing I was hard up, didn’t ask for the money.

On another occasion, a Sunday, when neither Mike nor Myra were present, I ordered egg n chips. The manager, who we were all friendly with, said if I wanted to make it myself there’d be no charge – so down into the cellar I went. I’d just finished making the chips in the deep fryer when Mike appeared at the foot of the stairs. He just looked at me and nodded his head indicating upstairs – my lunch was at end.

He never mentioned the incident again, and I never took advantage of his good nature again.

Marriage and children, combined with the closing of The Cav’s doors meant we lost touch.

After a gap of many, many years we were to meet up again. Both he and Myra were heavily involved with the Macclesfield Lions  – I was editing Macclesfield Community News. Neither Mike nor Myra appeared to have aged a jot – and Mike still sported the infectious smile and laugh I remembered so well.

For a number of years we were destined to meet up at many Lions or other local charitable functions.

It’s an irrelevance, but Mike was Jewish – and he was one of the kindest, most generous, warmest human beings I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.

I have no doubt that his family are absolutely devastated at his passing – I can only hope they can take some solace from the fact that he was held in such high esteem by me – and I’d guess by anyone who had the good fortune to come into contact with him.

He was a wonderful human being and I feel privileged to have known him.

I’m only sorry I didn’t learn of his death earlier – I would very much liked to have personally paid my respects to his family at his funeral.