HARVEY Madden, who died last week, was a passionate sportsman, an honourable businessman, and a true gentleman.

Norton Cricket Club, Stockton Hockey Club, Yarm Tennis Club and Dinsdale Golf Club have all been enriched by his presence over many years.

And it is no exaggeration to say that he played a key role in guiding Darlington Football Club towards a more stable future...but it's fair to say that our personal relationship got off to a rather dodgy start.

It was January 2012 and the elegant, white-haired Mr Madden had been working as administrator for Darlington FC after being called in by chairman Raj Singh who'd had enough.

Efforts to save The Quakers had reached crisis point with a rescue deal falling through at the last minute and Mr Madden was inside The Northern Echo Arena, reluctantly telling the players that he would have to consign the club to history.

Just as the news was breaking to the posse of journalists outside the stadium, a car screeched up and out leapt Darlington fan Shaun Campbell, unforgettably clutching a bag and shouting: "We've got the money, we've got the £50,000."

Like a scene from a movie, the dramatic intervention was enough to persuade Mr Madden to hold off from making his liquidation announcement and agree to meet Mr Campbell and a group of other local business figures at a private location.

I was discreetly invited by Mr Campbell to follow them to Blackwell Grange Hotel, where a surreal scene developed, with people desperately trying to come up with enough money to persuade Mr Madden to give their club a stay of execution.

As the only journalist in the room, I was secretly tweeting developments from under the table until Mr Madden's assistant paused the meeting and whispered something in his boss's ear.

The administrator looked up: "How the hell do people outside know what's being discussed in this room?" he asked rather sternly.

I heard the assistant mumble my name and I knew the game was up.

"Er, I was just tweeting the information to keep everyone in the loop," I stuttered, like a naughty schoolboy who'd been caught cheating in an exam.

"Well could you please stop," ordered the headmasterly Mr Madden. "These discussions are meant to be confidential."

Over the next three years, I came to know Harvey Madden well and our relationship recovered from that early Twitter faux pas. I was very sad to receive a call from his wife Eileen last week, telling me that he had died aged 66 after a dignified fight against leukaemia.

Long after he ceased to be the club's administrator, he continued to help the Quakers as an unpaid advisor. He was thoughtful, diplomatic, generous with his time, and a pleasure to be around.

Darlington Football Club is indebted to Harvey Madden and if, as we all hope, the club returns to its home town this summer, he should be remembered for the vital role he played.

ALONG with the unsolved killing of Ann Heron on the outskirts of Darlington in August 1990, the disappearance of Claudia Lawrence is the most baffling mystery I'm come across in my time as a journalist.

Claudia, a 35-year-old chef from York, vanished in March 2009 and the search for an answer goes on.

Last week, I spent a couple of hours with Claudia's mum Joan. Joan, 71, is originally from Darlington and she told me she'd heard a lot about Rockliffe so I took her for lunch.

She told me that she believes the police are close to a breakthrough in the investigation and she never gives up hope.

"I've got to keep it out there, haven't I," she said. "I've got to make sure people don't forget. Someone knows something."

Despite everything she has gone through, Joan remains positive, optimistic, determined and fun to be with. But imagine what it must be like, wondering every day what's happened to your daughter, not knowing where she is, or if she's dead or alive.

It's Mother's Day at the weekend. Think of your own mum, but please think of Joan too.

ALL editors get their share of abuse but spare a thought for Bob Zaltsberg, editor of the Indiana, a local paper in America, who received an angry message from an eight-year-old boy.

The boy wasn't happy with the paper's decision to scrap his favourite cartoons so he phoned the editor to tell him: "You're a jerk and a "s***hole."

I got called that a few times – not by an eight-year-old but by a grown-up. He was the chairman of Darlington Football Club at the time.