Father Marcus Riggs (1955 – 10 July 1998) When I met Father Marcus Riggs for the first time, the man dressed in full biker leathers was completely unexpected, and I immediately felt the presence of someone quite unique. Marcus wasn’t the kind of human being who just passes through life, instead he lived it to the full, and made a profound impact on those he encountered along the way. When he took up his first Brighton ministry, he lived in the basement flat of the vicarage at St. Michael’s Church. He was soon working at the First Base Day Centre for the homeless, and it was perhaps this experience that inspired him to try to establish a drop-in centre for those diagnosed with HIV in the city. In the early days, all Marcus could offer was peer support to those who needed it from his flat, so he took the decision to make his home an ‘open door.’ And as a result of his persistent lobbying, determination, and refusal to keep quiet, Marcus eventually managed to persuade the Chichester Diocese to fund a day centre in Brighton, and in 1988, Open Door was born at 35 Camelford Street in Kemptown. Despite pressure to do so, Marcus never used Open Door as an opportunity to evangelise, because he believed he’d been ‘sent as one who serves,’ and that people could see good and God in the work. Marcus had an architectural background which proved useful as 35 Camelford Street was in a poor state, with everything needing to be done from scratch in more ways than one. Running the project demanded every ounce of Marcus’s energy but from the start he was helped by a wonderful team of volunteers. Word quickly spread, and it wasn’t long before Open Door was established as the place to go for peer support, understanding, companionship, a listening ear, benefits advice, alternative therapy, and great food. Visits to Open Door always centred around the dining table, and it was this atmosphere that made it feel like home to the many who passed through its doors. When the first specialist HIV ward (6) opened at Hove General Hospital on Sackville Road in 1990, Marcus was an obvious choice for chaplaincy. It was here that he offered spiritual and emotional support to many, including my friend Andrea in his last days. Father Marcus was one of a kind, admired by many and loved by everyone. He died from AIDS illness on the 10 July 1998, and a funeral oration and requiem mass was held at St Augustine’s in Brighton. He was buried at the Bear Road cemetery. In 2009, the Chichester Diocese stopped supporting Open Door, but all was not lost. The great work established by Father Marcus continued when Gary Pargeter, who worked as a chef at Open Door, set up Lunch Positive in 2010. Today this amazing grass roots charity provides a welcoming, safe, and supportive space for people to meet, socialise, make friends, share a healthy meal, and get peer support. The services provided by Lunch Positive have continued to be accepting, non-judgemental, inclusive, and put together and provided by people with HIV for the community, so I’m sure Marcus will be smiling and happy to see his legacy so beautifully maintained.

Graham Charles Wilkinson Graham Charles Wilkinson was one of small group of gay men in London who shared a vision for innovative new centres for people living with HIV in the UK. The group started to meet and talk about their ideas at the flat of Christopher Spence OBE, who’d later become director of the Lighthouse in Ladbroke Grove when it opened in 1986. Graham was acutely aware that Brighton was desperate for services to help the growing numbers affected by the epidemic, so he set to work bringing the vision to the coast. Determined and courageous, Graham decided to quit his job to found the Sussex AIDS Helpline in a ‘grotty’ little office on Brighton’s Western Road in October 1987. In the early days, the helpline was a very hands-on affair with Graham and a few friends answering all the calls, but despite its humble beginnings, it soon became essential for anyone needing good advice, compassion and the facts. By all accounts Graham was a shy man who found the constant battles, resistance and stigma of the times hard to manage against the backdrop of his own illness. Sometimes the stress of the situation would get the better of him, but before long the light would appear in his face alongside an infectious giggle that anyone who knew him will never forget. By all accounts, Graham was a loving and supportive man who could be relied on to give someone a cuddle.  Graham lived on Devonshire Place in Kemptown with his partner and playwright John Roman Baker at the time. They used their flat as a centre for the fundraising and lobbying which helped Graham to realise his vision when the Sussex AIDS Centre and Helpline opened at 3 Cavendish Street in 1988. Despite his poor health Graham played a key role in shaping, influencing and establishing the HIV services in Brighton which continue today, and his tireless commitment served to directly impact and improve the quality of lives of countless people living with HIV in Brighton. Graham ended his days at the London Lighthouse on 22 August 1990 surrounded by friends. His service was held in St Peters Church with standing room only - a testimony to the love and respect that existed for him in the city. - Danny West - 2021 22 August 2021 This evening, John and I are listening to Donna Summer and remembering Graham Wilkinson who died this day 31 years ago at London Lighthouse (at the time there was no hospice for people with HIV/Aids in Brighton). He was a tireless gay rights campaigner from the 1970s onwards and then in the 1980s fought tooth and nail as co-founder and director of the Sussex Aids Centre & Helpline (now THT South). His work, spirit and achievements should not be forgotten. It was a time when gay men in particular, but also others with HIV, were collateral damage in a deeply Conservative society where sadly even within our own community we had to fight self-hatred while the government held out for a feared heterosexual epidemic which of course (thankfully) did not materialise. Graham inspired and touched the lives of so many, but to John and myself he was so much more. He was our family and is deeply missed. Words by Rod Evan & John Roman Baker

Kevin John Dodd When I think of Kevin John Dodd, the memory that ignites is the one of him emerging from the Pepper-pot toilets by Queens Park one summer dressed in a T shirt and shorts. When he saw me walking into the park, his face broke into a broad grin and we both burst out laughing, because he knew that I knew what he’d been getting up to. I met Kevin at the Sussex AIDS Centre and Helpline when I was a volunteer there, and we got along straight away due to a shared sense of humour and a love of self-deprecation. Kevin was a member of Our House BP, and also sat on the board of the Sussex AIDS Centre as their representative. When Kevin died in February 1992, his service was conducted by Father Marcus Riggs, and took place at the Woodvale Crematorium off Lewes Road like many in those days. I remember the order of service had a black and white outline of Mickey Mouse on the cover page which made me smile. The music Kevin chose for his funeral was an eclectic mix. I remember ‘Nimrod’ from Elgar’s Enigma Variations in particular filling the space with undulating dissonant chords and an emotional resonance that had me sobbing into my sleeve. Later in the service ‘Reach out and touch’ by Diana Ross also hit the same spot albeit in a very different way. I think it was Kevin’s funeral that made me think for the first time about the songs that I might use to serenade my own passing, because back then life seemed so fleeting and death was everywhere. I will always remember Kevin for being cheeky, confidant, funny and completely fearless and all these years later, he is still missed by many. Harry Hillery 2021