The Rt Revd Dr John Saxbee writes:

IN ANY catalogue of ecclesiastical controversies, the name Brandon Jackson must loom large. Events when he was Dean of Lincoln, leading to his appearance before a consistory court in 1995, on a charge of sexual misconduct, reverberated around the world. This led to significant changes in the governance of cathedrals, safeguarding measures, and clergy discipline.

Born in 1934, one of seven children in what he described as “an ordinary Cheshire family”, he attended Stockport School, became head boy, and then studied law at Liverpool University with a view to becoming a barrister. But conversion to Evangelical Christianity led to his opting for cloth instead of silk, and ordination in 1958 to a curacy in Southwark diocese after training at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford.

A second curacy followed at St George’s, Leeds, before, in 1965, his appointment as Vicar of St Peter’s, Shipley, in the diocese of Bradford. There, he exercised an energetic parochial ministry, trained a succession of curates, and became widely known as one of the first “TV vicars”, presenting Stars on Sunday on Yorkshire Television.

He was something of a local celebrity, well known in the parish and beyond, and given to dramatic gestures. Early in his ministry there, to give the milkman the chance for a holiday, he offered to take on his round — an offer that he was pleased to see attracting headlines in the local newspapers.

A colleague from that time, and a lifelong friend, describes him as “a man of dramatic contrasts: utterly charming, but at times ruthless in pursuit of issues he felt to be important. He could, on occasions, be provocative, and sometimes his love to shock got the better of him, causing him to be misunderstood.” He could feel vulnerable and anxious at times, but “his faith was strong, almost unshakeable, and his prayer life constant.”

He was ever an active man. His hobbies and interests included rugby (he played for Sale RFC), long-distance running, cycling, fell-walking, and playing the cornet in brass bands.

Elected by the clergy of Bradford diocese to represent them in the General Synod, and then as a Church Commissioner in 1972, he was clearly destined for a senior appointment, which came his way in 1977 when he was appointed Provost of Bradford Cathedral. The gifts that he had brought to his successful ministry at Shipley proved popular and attractive to the majority of cathedral regulars and visitors, but internal tensions clouded the horizon. Reports circulated that it was not a happy ship. But he was typically upbeat: “When I became Provost I took over a rock-bottom cathedral run by a small group as a private music club. I left a thriving community as successful as any in the country.”

One difference between provosts and deans, and the one that proved decisive on his move to Lincoln, is that provosts have powers to hire and fire people. This he did, and he is on record as having dismissed choristers, an organist, a Brown Owl, and a succession of secretaries. As recently as 2021, Bradford Cathedral paid compensation to a staff member who accused him of sexual harassment and assault during his tenure as Provost.

And so to Lincoln. There is little doubt that there, as well, tensions prevailed, albeit of a different kind. Well-established residentiary canons were embroiled in a controversy relating to an extensive and expensive tour of Australia, to display the cathedral’s one of only four extant original copies of the Magna Carta. Whether it was intended to be a fund-raising exercise is a moot point, but a loss of £50,000 is believed to have been incurred, and rumours were rife regarding financial probity and potential beneficiaries.

When the Deanery fell vacant, the Bishop of Lincoln, Robert Hardy, was anxious to see a strong and incisive man appointed; and there was a suggestion that some “blood on the carpet” might not go amiss. Margaret Thatcher had met Brandon, and immediately identified him as made for the job — and he himself believed that he was called by God to purge the cathedral of corruption.

So began a saga involving claims and counterclaims of maladministration and financial irregularities, and sexual innuendo, orchestrated by the new Dean to unseat the Canons, who referred the matter to the Bishop. He conducted a Visitation, which apportioned blame to both sides. But, crucially, it was the Canons who were called on to resign. They didn’t, and Brandon remained deeply frustrated that they could not be removed. Relationships between the Dean and the Bishop, who lived cheek by jowl in the Close, deteriorated to the point of internecine strife which, to quote Hardy’s assessment, “all seems a long way from Jesus of Nazareth”.

Meanwhile, Brandon’s acquittal by a consistory court in 1995, at the end of a legal process, did little or nothing to curtail gossip or speculation. A young woman, recently dismissed as an assistant verger, accused the Dean of adultery with her. The case brought under the 1963 Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction Measure had to be proved beyond all reasonable doubt. It could not, and he was declared innocent.

It is unlikely that entrenched positions in the public gallery or beyond changed as result of the verdict. Enough had been aired to excite the prurient, and not enough had been concluded to silence the doubters. Brandon accused the Bishop of being behind a plot to oust him, and the Bishop saw little in the outcome to modify his stance. The pop-up courtroom in Lincoln would not be the last occasion when an issue relating to sexual impropriety forced Brandon on to the defensive.

He retired in 1997 on terms agreed with the Church Commissioners. A service was held “to reclaim the cathedral”, and the Bishop himself retired three years later. Brandon had notable achievements to show for his time as Dean of Lincoln, with important initiatives pertaining to the fabric, the choir school, and the introduction of girl choristers. But the denouement left all concerned significantly bruised and diminished.

His retirement years were spent in the dioceses of Ripon & Leeds (where he was given permission to officiate) and later to Leicester. It is said that churches and communities welcomed and appreciated his liturgical and pastoral ministry, speaking well of his Evangelical preaching, spirituality, and hospitality in the home that he shared with Mary, his wife of almost 65 years, who survives him, along with their two daughters, son, and grandchildren.

In his resignation letter to Queen Elizabeth II, he wrote: “It has become increasingly clear to me that I have been at the wicket too long. There is no chance at all of a result and, therefore, the only sensible thing to do is to declare the innings closed. There are other grounds with more favourable wickets, with runs to be scored and games to be won.” It could serve as his epitaph.

The Very Revd Brandon Jackson died on 29 January, aged 88.