It’s 35 years ago today that one of Richmond greatest off-field servants and characters, Charlie Callander, passed away. Club ‘Immortal’ and five-time premiership hero, Kevin Bartlett, paid the following tribute to Callander in ‘The Sun’ newspaper . . .

“I certainly will never forget Charlie Callander – nor will anyone else who has been associated with the Richmond Football Club.

The Punt Rd training rooms can never be the same again with the passing of the man affectionately known as Old Charlie.

He simply loved Richmond, the city, the people, the club and the players.

Charlie died in St Vincent’s Hospital yesterday aged 81.

I first met the legendary property steward in 1965 when I was summoned to the MCG to play in the seniors’ final practice match from the under 19s.

Charlie presented me with a new pair of socks and wished me luck – I didn’t know then, but to get a new pair of socks was quite a coup.

Old Charlie loved his image as the tough, craggy and miserly man who held the key to his domain – the property room.

To see this small, frail man bellowing and frightening the club’s toughest and roughest players as they approached him for an item as small as a cake of soap, was one of the delights of a training night.

No matter who you were, the champion goalkicker, star player, the captain or the battler, Charlie treated everyone who wore the Richmond jumper the same. And the players loved him for it.

We all knew Charlie had a heart of gold and his bark was worse than his bite.

The big giveaway was when kids came into the changing rooms. Old Charlie would always make a fuss of them and the chewing gum and the drinks that players had to plead for suddenly became available for the little visitors. Old Charlie was simply the spirit of Richmond – the man had seen every one of the Tigers’ 10 VFL premierships in an association spanning more than 60 years that saw him dubbed the Prince of Property Stewards.

Many a night Charlie entertained in his small property room with stories of Jack Dyer, Jack Titus, Percy Bentley and Ray Martin.

You name them, the great players, Old Charlie had seen them all from that first Punt Rd premiership in 1920.

He was there when the club cry of Eat ‘Em Alive was born.

The stories about Old Charlie are part of football’s folklore – like the time he handed out only four pieces of chewing gum to each player, claiming one piece a quarter was sufficient. And I can still see Kevin Sheedy about to run down the players’ race without a jumper on in a big game at the MCG, simply because Charlie didn’t believe Sheedy’s story that someone had pinched his guernsey off the clothesline.

But the one I like the best of all is the one Old Charlie liked to tell against himself.

He was working for the Richmond Council and on retirement had to hand in his street broom.

It was still in mint condition although it did have a bow in the stem where it had rested on his shoulder for some 30 years.

“Every time I went to use it someone would come up and talk to me,” said Charlie.

Just before he died, Charlie had to have a leg removed.

His comment . . . Royce Hart had played with injuries much worse.

Charlie, we will never forget you.”