The Chronicle 2022

I loved nothing better than a long drive to Underberg, or Durban or Johannesburg with Fred. As much as it was comfortable to sit in silence next to him for many miles, my preference was always to listen to him speak. And there was always a twinkle in his eye when he spoke. and I believe the reason for that is that he could see every side of any situation and of every person – and that knowledge delighted him, but he never used it against anyone. I wouldn’t say that I’d follow Fred into Hell because he’d already taken me there on a 900km round trip to Jo’bug in his short wheelbase Landy. He tested my resilience and my ability to find a comfortable way to sit, bolt upright with nowhere to put your elbows or feet, he tested my nerve and my faith at 135km an hour of blasting hot wind and rattling land rover parts– all with that twinkle in his eye. Even as I stand here, I still wonder what I am doing here. Not because it’s a miracle that I survived those trips to Jo’burg… because…Why me? It might have been any one of you. Every one here has as much claim to a deep, purposeful and rewarding friendship with Fred. Because that was his way. He was energetic about getting to know people. Not just because he loved understanding what made us tick, but because he knew it was important. My story with Fred isn’t any bigger or any deeper or any older than with anyone else and I guess it didn’t even really start in D Block. It started 21 years later, two decades after I had last seen Fred when I made a phone call to him at a time in my life when I needed a new perspective. I dialed Fred’s number not expecting him to remember me – one of hundreds, maybe thousands of recalcitrant youths who had crossed his path. There was a part of me though, that just knew he would still know who I was. And he did. And he gave me more than just the time of day. He gave me the direction and the confidence to follow it right down the road which lead me to where I’m standing right now – to this incredible position of privilege - the chance to share a snapshot or two of Fred. I’ve got two options here. Either I could go on and on listing and enumerating every one of Fred’s traits and virtues which collectively made him into a man so vital and more massive than life; or I could go the more sensible route by

summing it all up with a phrase just 5 words long. Fred was a good oke. And to complete Paul Fleischack’s Kipling allusion, Fred was a good oke who filled the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run. Maybe Fred is having the last laugh on his 1990 joke after all, because having shared just some of his vitality and grace, its so hard for me not to believe in someone so good, and compassionate and humble who is watching over everything we hope and dream of and do. Anne, Simon and Natalie; Lizette, Andrew, Tessa and Hannah, Stella and Henry you must all always have known that you would have to share Fred. And I’m guessing that it wasn’t always easy. I know though that his compassion and friendship weren’t drawn from a finite vessel, and it would never have been given at the expense of his love and respect for you. I believe that everything he gave out in attention and concern and wisdom just magnified the model of a husband, father and grandfather that he was. And I want to thank you all very sincerely on behalf of the Old Boys of this school for sharing Fred with all of us.

his firm for many years, and became its chairman. He was admired and respected by those who interacted with him. He was a no-nonsense person, who knew the right way of doings things. Soon after starting his legal career, he joined St Francis Church. He was a regular communicant who came to the early service on Sundays. That was when we got to know each other better. So much so, that in the early 1980s Father Robin Briggs, the then rector at the church, invited us to go canvassing in pairs, to encourage more parishioners to attend church, it was easy for Harry and me to offer ourselves as a team. We undertook to meet every Monday at about 5.30pm and then start knocking on doors to introduce ourselves and explain our mission. Fr Robin advised us to follow the example of the Gospel where in Mark 6.10 apostles were sent out, two by two. If you are welcomed, stay in the same house until you have finished. But if you come to a house where you are not welcomed, or they will not listen to you, leave that house and shake the dust off your feet. We used to laugh at the number times we were unsuccessful and had to shake the dust off our shoes. Similarly, again under guidance of Fr Robin, we offered to become fundraisers, still in pairs, this time aiming at known parishioners to invite them to give monthly tithes to the Church—or to increase their monthly pledges. Come and give, was our message. We were slightly better in that effort. After Martin Breytenbach became our priest, Harry and I teamed up when Fr Martin asked us to visit some of the elderly, or the sick. Still on Monday evenings. Our friendship became stronger, he sitting each Sunday in the pew behind my pew. Once Fr Tim, or later, Fr Meshack, had arrived, we would turn around each Sunday, and greet each other first at the saying of The Peace, also greeting Elaine, who sadly passed away, but who gave Harry much support in his professional and spiritual walks. We lost church friends, together, like Archie Archibald, also a former school friend. We stood in the packed Hall at Archie`s funeral. Similarly, we stood

Hamba kahle Fred

Written by Murray Witherspoon

RATTRAY, MICHAEL Born 1933, Died 2022 Michaelhouse, 1946-1949 ROONEY, JOHN PATRICK Born 1939, Died 2022 Michaelhouse, 1953-1956 SAVAGE, HARRY Born 1942, Died 2022 Michaelhouse, 1956 – 1958

I got to know Harry Savage many years ago. Although we were a few years apart, we first met at high school; followed by university, and then joining law firms in Pretoria. Like at school, Harry was a good sportsman, playing league squash, golf, and more recently he loved his bowls, and the camaraderie it engendered. For his professional career, Harry stayed at

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