Tribute to Ramon Nigel Leon: 31 March 1925-15 April 2018
My father was a modest man with, to paraphrase Churchill on Attlee, little to be modest about. The youngest Queen's Counsel in the British Commonwealth at the age of 33, a High Court judge at 41, Chancellor of his alma mater, Natal University, before he had turned sixty, President of the Swaziland Court of Appeal until the redoubtable age of eighty and a judge of the Lesotho Court of Appeal in retirement – appointed to both in 1995, Ramon Nigel Leon lived a long and distinguished life.
An avid reader, my father bequeathed to Tony and me a love of books, politics and current affairs. Living largely in the world of ideas, he likewise bequeathed to us a general lack of practicality evidenced by an experience recounted by my uncle early on in my parents' marriage when the lights fused in their Parkview flat. My father's solution was to suggest an early night to my mother rather than attempting to switch on the mains. Something I know with which Michal can identify well.
My father was intellectually rigorous and accordingly a demanding parent. He expected the best from everyone, not least his sons. When Tony had a less than distinguished matric at Kearsney College, my father's solution was to confine him to the house with very limited hours for socialising let alone telephone calls. Although Tony typically referred to this period as Colditz, where he was kept in close confinement from Mondays to Saturday afternoons, it worked well as evidenced by his entry to Wits and a distinguished academic career.
Unlike me and very much like Tony, he was obsessive about time and punctuality. Newspapers in particular had to be delivered on time twice daily; the dog at one point being trained to deliver them and whisky being served promptly with ice and water at 6 pm, a habit which Tony follows religiously. I remember driving with my father and Jacqueline for his installation as Chancellor of Natal University in 1984, of which he was justifiably proud, and having to stop en route because we were predictably an hour early. Airports were another story of early arrivals and insistence on porters being arranged well in advance, of which Etai can recount many a story, owing to my father’s legendary bad back and obsession about missing the flight.
My father was passionate about politics which I suspect was his first love rather than law. A strong believer in non-racialism, a member of the Liberal Party and a founder member of the Progressive Party in 1959, he instilled in both of us a fascination about politics which in my case was somewhat evanescent, but in Tony's more permanent. As a very young child, I remember how, fearing arrest, Alan Paton, the leader of the Liberal Party and distinguished author of Cry the Beloved Country, had to spend the night in our South Ridge Road, Durban home during South Africa's first State of Emergency. In the end only his passport was confiscated while many of his colleagues were harassed, tortured, detained or worse.