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Marcello was unlike anybody I had ever worked for before, or have worked for since. He was a tall well built Italian originally from Naples, his moustache and round glasses defined him. He had a strong Italian accent despite having lived in England for much of his adult life.

I answered to an advert in the local newspaper that read International Design Consultancy Looking For Receptionist. This was shortly after my stint as an air stewardess. The offices were situated in a courtyard in the centre of Richmond, SW London. As I stepped through the doors, I was greeted by Marcello’s PA, Marion, a tall, friendly well spoken lady who had the warmth of a mother hen. I got the job and started straight away.

MTP reception, Matilde and I, as thick as thieves

The company was Minale Tattersfield and Partners, a successful design consultancy, internationally acclaimed. Marcello had arrived in the UK in 1962. He had been working at an agency called Young & Rubicon, where he met a fellow graphic designer Brian Tattersfield and together they set up their own agency. One of their first big projects was to design Harrods’ visual identity and from there they went from strength to strength, working with the FA Premier League and Sydney Olympic Games amongst many other big names. Marcello and Brian were polar opposites. Marcello an exuberant, loud Italian, Brian a quiet, discreet Yorkshireman.

Minale Tattersfield & Partners logo, the Scribble

When I first started, Brian was working part time and retiring from the company soon after. He would be one of the first to arrive in the mornings and it was my duty to make him tea, he was a proper gentleman with the most impeccable manners. As the morning progressed, the team arrived in dribs and drabs. Some of us came in cars, others on bikes, some via train or bus. Initially I was not allowed to park in the premises as Marcello said there was no space. He admitted to me later that he didn’t think my Renault 5 looked the part when we had international clients coming to visit.

You can park your car right down the road, sweetie.

After some time Marcello decided I had earned the priviledge of parking inside the Courtyard.

You can park there sweetie, over by the duuuustbins.

Not quite in full sight of our VIP clients visiting, but enough to go semi hidden amongst the dustbins.

Marcello was often the last to arrive in the mornings as he would go rowing before work. The first thing we would hear was the revving of a motorbike as he entered The Courtyard. He had a selection of motorbikes that he alternated, the Ducati was his Monster (pronounced Monsta), the Harley Davidson was the ‘Arley. At some point he purchased a Trabant from Eastern Germany and would drive that into work too. He looked far too big for this tin can car but he loved it. As he came through the door, he would look left towards reception and quietly say Hello sweetie and go upstairs to his office.

The building was designed in a U shape. It was a double storey with 2 open plan studios downstairs and another studio upstairs with 7 separate offices and a big boadroom at the end of the passageway. As Marcello walked down the passage towards the boardroom he would be calling out to the designer who was involved in the project.... Ian Dee, Ian Gee, DD, Dimi, Nigel, Marchy, Alex... you could feel his enthusiasm bubbling over. If there was a meeting in the boardroom, it meant there was a big project to pitch, another opportunity to show their clients what world class designers they were.

How I remember March, tucked away in the back of the studio

As time went by, I was promoted and moved upstairs to work for the partners. I alternated working for Alex who dealt with NatWest’s corporate design campaigns and Dimitri who headed up the design work for their Arab banking clients. There were occasions when Marcello would ask me to do some of his letters if they had to be typed up in English. Matilde was his Italian PA. She worked next door to his office; if he ever needed her he would shout

Matildeeeeeee

And she would reply

Aspetta!

He wouldn’t have to wait long, because shortly after that she would rush in.

Marcello had a leather lean back chair and the most beautiful office with wood floors, a glass table top and shelves on either side, filled with awards, books he had written, logos Minale Tattersfield had designed, chocablock with interesting memorabilia. I have a feeling he had a bike in there too, I have a vague memory of that. But Marcello would be sitting quietly doodling on his notepad, thinking of the next design or a great creative idea to present to a potential client. Without fail he would have his ink pen in hand.

A typical Italian, his temperament would fluctuate throughout the day, sometimes he'd be calm and quiet and other times he would lose his cool. Matilde had no problem standing up to Marcello and their conversation would go back and forth in loud Italian until they’d sorted out whatever it was. There was always laughter. Sometimes he would call me from his office

Saaaallllyyyyyy

Yes Marcello.

Hello, sweetie.

Looking at me up and down, and then down again.

Where are your shoes, sweetie?

I would often kick my shoes off half way through the day, it was that kind of office.

They’re in my office, I said

Ahh. Now I want you to do this for me, sweetie, and blllloody helllll, don't get it wrong, OK?

Ok. Going back into my office after collecting paperwork, dropping off, upstairs and downstairs, I found one shoe, but no sign of the other. Where was my shoe? Has anyone seen my shoe? I’ve lost my shoe. As I walked past Marcello’s office I had a feeling this might have something to do with him. Have you seen my shoe, Marcello? Looking at me deadpan he pointed to a lone shoe sitting on top of some books along the corridor.

During my time at MTP I got my teeth straightened (hallelujah) so on my lunch break I went to the orthodontist and came back with a mouth full of metal. Braces for the next 2 years. Marcello would walk in and out of the many working areas checking on what the designers were working on and he would sometimes stop past my office and speak to me. He would stare closely at my teeth and go,

How are your teeth, sweetie?

I would explain the latest stage of my neverending orthodontic treatment..

There were many fun times we had after work, our local was a pub up the road we named The Dead Fish. Sometimes we would have barbeques in the courtyard, other times in the summer months we would go to Richmond Park in the evenings and play rounders or find a tennis court to play tennis. Those were the days when we would hear a thunderclap as Concorde flew across the sky, having taken off from Heathrow nearby.

Ian D, Lee, Dimitri, Liz

Marcello was loved and respected by us all. He expected the highest standards and would lose it with us if we didn’t come up to his levels of expectation. Then he would say

That’s blllooooooddyyyy useless

But in the same breath, if we got it right, he would be overjoyed

Grrrrrreatttt work Ian Gee, grrrreeeeattt

When he was a young man Marcello had rowed for Italy in the Olympics so he believed in the power of sport and positive thinking. Like any great leader, he had the ability to motivate, to bring out the best in people and to keep believing in ourselves. We never took it personally when he said our work was bloody awful because at the same time he was always the first one to enthuse it’s bllloody fantaaaastic, if he liked it.

He was a one of a kind, with an energy and enthusiasm that would light up a room. Life was for living and he lived by that belief.

Marcello, September 1997

A year after I left and I had met Greg, on our way back from our wedding reception in the Canary Islands, we were in England for a couple of days and I popped in to say hello. Marcello and all the team came down to greet us. Like family, they were happy for me, I could see Marcello was too. We had a photo taken outside the Courtyard. This would be the last time I would ever see that beloved, beautiful, Italian man again.

Nicola phoned me one day a couple of years later to tell me the devastating news. Marcello had taken a group of youngsters on a rowing trip to France. In later years he had begun to coach, imparting his love of rowing to these young novices in the hope that they would enjoy the sport as much as he did and appreciate the benefits that came with it. A 23 year old boy was getting into the wrong crowd and his father had commented to Marcello that he was concerned for him. Marcello said no problem, let him come on this trip with us, it’ll do him the world of good. So he did.

Marcello arrived to greet the rowing group. This boy had been acting strangely. Nobody knew why. An argument ensued between Marcello and the boy outside the parking lot. Before anyone could do anything, Marcello was stabbed multiple times and tragically, died of his injuries.

Some people in your life you never forget, they stay with you always.

Marcello is one of them.

No, thank YOU