It’s a short jaunt between Cheyne Walk and the King’s Road in London but hidden within plain sight from Beaufort Street is a small historic garden.
Within that garden is an old and gnarled tree held up with wire supports. As we walked from the gloriously re-constructed Crosby Hall with its Holbein painting of Sir Thomas More, the summer rain lashed us mercilessly.
My companions that day were Jim Fitzpatrick snr and his son, Dominic. Jim sprinted ahead of us - yes sprinted! He hurried across the busy road and headed towards an imposing edifice - leaving Dominic and I bewildered.
Unconcerned, Jim rang the door bell and waited for an answer.
A young man came out. The building turned out to be a seminary and once was the site of a medieval convent. Jim asked to view the garden and surprisingly the man, without question, guided us to it.
But this wasn’t any old tree or for that matter any old garden. And our visit was not accidental.
The garden once formed part of the More Estate. The tree was a mulberry tree.
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It was reported to have been planted by Sir Thomas More, former Lord Chancellor of England and now Catholic martyr and saint. It was believed Sir Thomas wrote to Erasmus from under the shade of this tree.
A tree which still blossoms bearing fruit. Jim was delighted. We took a photo to record the event.
Jim then recalled that this was the place where both he and his late wife, Alice visited in the 1970’s to set up their charitable trust - appropriately named after one Margaret Roper - daughter of Sir Thomas More.
Whilst many pass the Fountain Street shop known as Utopia without a second thought to the genesis of its name, the connection is Jim’s abiding admiration for Sir Thomas More.
That was the Jim Fitzpatrick I knew.
Learned, spiritual, quiet, resolved and determined to spread truth and knowledge. Jim believed the source of news should be trusted and that’s how he guided the Irish News for over fifty years. To Jim, the dual purpose of a newspaper was to be true to its words and to speak truth unto power.
I can’t apologise for the detail in this prologue because Jim Fitzpatrick was a man of detail, precision and considered opinion.
And it’s the detail of my remembrances of this man, whom I admired, respected and aspired to emulate, which distracts me from the all too obvious heartache of losing a mentor, listening ear, calm voice and most of all a friend.
Jim was a man who gave much - perhaps too much. He would wear himself down with worry of having inadvertently caused offence.
An astute businessman, a thoughtful media owner, a loving husband and an adoring father, Jim was first and foremost, a man of great faith. A peacemaker. A bridge builder. A philanthropist who sought neither praise or recognition.
His commitment to Belfast and its growth is unrivalled. He was a man willing to use his influence and resources to support Belfast. There are those who are called ‘city fathers’.
However, Jim Fitzpatrick was a father to the four corners of this city.
Unlike many of the other acclaimed peacemakers - Jim’s work at enabling dialogue and bringing people from all parts of our community together at a political and grassroots level went mainly without acknowledgement.
But those who knew of the enormity of his personal commitment, generosity and authenticity appreciated his labours. Protagonists who once were distrustful only had to look into his eyes to see only kindness and goodwill.
Jim was a man who gently cajoled and pushed from the sidelines -whether it was politicians, former paramilitaries or bishops. He liked to nudge. Jim was never judgmental.
When this writer was going through a tough period - he reminded me of a Thomas More quotation “You don’t abandon a ship in a storm just because you couldn’t control the waves”. I figured, unlike Sir Thomas More, I was not going to lose my head so things would be okay. And of course, they were, guided by a steady hand.
At the height of the Troubles, Jim took a determined and courageous stand against paramilitaries with both his editorial and commercial position for the Irish News. He never once flinched.
Even when peace was achieved - Jim didn’t feel his work was over. His philanthropy grew.
I can’t remember the number of times, I quietly delivered his support to individuals or organisations requesting help.
I first met Jim in 1986 when working for the late Seamus Mallon. Bizarrely, the then media cub and the media mogul became unlikely friends. Even confidants. He exchanged books with me regularly. I remember one - ‘The Light of the World’. Jim, the erudite man of reading - that man of detail, inscribed in it “Tuesday 25th January 2011- feast of the conversion of St Paul.” I recall thinking only Jim would know that! Or perhaps- he thought I was work in progress.
Jim was an influencer long before the emergence of social media. He moulded opinion for the better. He was a man of values. In a world often dominated with so many amoral influencers in politics and media, Jim stood out.
Jim’s great love was his wife, Alice. His great pride were his children, grandchildren and wider family. His greatest ambition was for a peaceful and stable place where all people could be at home.
If Jim is listening now, I would quote to him from a letter from Erasmus to Sir Thomas More “ Your manners are so friendly and pleasant that you have that rare gift of getting on with all men at any time and enjoying it. …..But why do I say all this to you, an advocate without peer for giving your best service to causes?”
Sleep easy Jim - the journey has been long but the rest is deserved.