Confessions of a Technophobe, New Series 37
Part 2 continued
1956–1966
In earlier blogs I did write about how I met my wife Hero whom I met in 1965 and married in 1966. I want to expand this period here as it has had a profound and positive affect on the rest of my life. We will soon have been married sixty years so we must have done something right!
Twentieth Century Fox in South Africa bought Killarney Studios from the Schlesinger Organization. The Chief Executive of Fox had his son John Stodel spend a few weeks in the scriptwriting department, as part of his induction into the movie industry after school and two years’ compulsory army service. I mentioned to John my frustration over my girlfriends at the time. John had grown up virtually next door to a Greek Cypriot family. He was friendly with the daughter, Hero Falas, and offered to introduce me to her. He arranged lunch for the three of us. He and I agreed on a code word if I approved of the lady in question, I would give it and he would leave the restaurant. If not, he and I would leave together. I found her delightful and gave the code word. He withdrew, leaving Hero and I alone.
After the meal and over coffee Hero horrified me by taking out a cigarette. As a non-smoker I made some negative comment. She replied defensively, “I’m not really hooked on smoking; I can give it up whenever I like.” My reply was, “OK, so give up now!” This was clearly a make-or-break moment for the two of us. Hero, as I found out, was not a person to turn down a challenge. She stubbed out the cigarette and smiled. “That was my last cigarette,” she offered. I was delighted. In the event she lasted a week before the people with whom she worked in an eye specialist practice, begged her to start smoking again, saying that she was a complete pain without the evil weed.
Meanwhile, I had agreed with a film director I had recently met to go with him to Durban to try and close a movie deal. I would write the screenplay, and he would direct. I told Hero that I would be back on the coming Sunday and I would like to take her out for dinner. There was a definite chemistry occurring between us. By the weekend the film negotiations were dragging on and the director, Percival Rubens, insisted that we only go back the following Wednesday. I wondered if it would ruin my new friendship with Hero and sent her a telegram apologizing for breaking our date. I promised to contact her and set a new date. Hero, although disappointed, was amazed that I had bothered to send her a telegram. She showed it to her mother Athena, who was equally impressed, and it turned out to be the smartest move I could have made.
To cut a long story short, the film deal in Durban did not materialize but Hero and I started dating regularly. For the first time we both realized that we had a special affinity not experienced before by either of us. Within a couple of months, I realized that Hero was unlike any girl I had ever met. The only problem was that she had told me in gory detail the number of proposals of marriage she had received, all of which she had turned down. She was a beautiful and talented young woman from a wealthy family. In Johannesburg’s large Greek community, she was considered a real “catch.”
Another intimidating factor was that her father, who had large factories in neighboring Mozambique, had not yet met me and it was made clear that I would have to obtain his blessing if we were to get married. Fortunately, her mother Athena and I got on very well. She was an absolute Anglophile and couldn’t wait to have an English son-in-law. Hero’s father Zacharias, however, was a very different proposition. He was a Doctor of Industrial Chemistry with a business that provided all the yeast, processed cheese and condensed milk for both Mozambique and the nearby country of Angola. Hero had told me how a young man, a qualified surgeon and also of Greek Cypriot heritage, had asked her father’s permission to marry her. However, he had made the fatal error of asking for a substantial dowry from Zacharias. Hero’s dad had replied that if he was prepared to pay for his daughter to get married to a young bull, he would at least want him to be a thoroughbred! It was against this background that I, a foreigner in the eyes of the Greek community and someone who was struggling to make a living in the movie industry, was going to have to approach this formidable, autocratic man and make a case for marrying his daughter. The only thing going for me was Athena’s conviction that as a well-bred Englishman I could do no wrong. Was it enough?
Zacharias returned from Mozambique and I was invited to meet him. I wasn’t exactly shaking as I was introduced but my internal organs were doing somersaults. He was in fact remarkably polite, but I could sense he was sizing me up and I found it hard to read him. After some general chitchat and a number of pointed questions from him, he asked me bluntly if I felt I could provide the kind of lifestyle that his daughter was used to. There was no point in trying to exaggerate my position. I replied that I was beginning to establish myself in a difficult industry. I planned to go freelance which would be tough but I was confident that ultimately I would succeed in creating a niche for myself in the business. I added that Hero and I had discussed that the early days of our marriage would require some sacrifices, mostly on her part, but it was my intention to make a name for myself and become successful. I pointed out that I had made a big impression in British television but felt I was better suited to returning to South Africa and to succeed in the local movie industry, I would have the advantage of my experience in British television when it finally started locally, as I knew it must do. Whatever it was, perhaps with Athena and (of course) Hero on my side, and the fact that I did not ask for a dowry, may have swayed him but he gave his permission, and I joined the ladies in the next room with a broad smile on my face!
When Hero and I announced that we wanted to get married as soon as possible, it was Athena’s turn to be horrified. She announced that she would need at least three months to prepare for the wedding. I could see how important it was for her and reluctantly agreed. Only later did I discover that this tiny, birdlike lady could have successfully commanded an army. Her energy and organizational skills were incredible. Zacharias kept right out of it and in fairness he had a big business empire to run.
Zach and Athena were not particularly religious people but were delighted when I agreed to get married in the Greek Orthodox Church. There were two conditions laid down by the Church. Firstly, I had to have a Greek Orthodox best man (Koumbaro). However, in the Orthodox Church one is allowed to have up to twelve Koumbaros, representing the twelve disciples of Christ. This worked well for me as I had two close friends, Nick Embleton and Derek Lucas, and I was delighted to invite them both. Zacharias then put forward his great friend Taki Yapanis. Secondly, I had to sign up as a member of the Hellenic community. Ironically, neither Zach, Athena nor Hero was registered as members of the Hellenic community, so in a sense I was the only registered Greek in the family!
Father Kyrillos (Cyril) was our priest. He was a wonderful person, well educated, intelligent and anxious that I should feel comfortable with the Orthodox ceremony. He was also a keen amateur photographer and very interested in my background in film and television. During the service he would chant in ancient Greek as prescribed, then say softly to the photographer and film cameramen present where he felt was the best angle for each stage of the ceremony. Part of the service included our three Koumbaros walking behind the bride and groom, who now wore stefanas (crowns) with a long white tape trailing from both. Taki was about 5 foot 4 inches in height, whereas Nick was 6 foot 3.5 inches tall and Derek 6 foot 4.5 inches. The other ends of the tape were held jointly by the Koumbaros as we walked three times around the alter. The sight of the tall Nick and Derek following us with tiny Taki desperately hanging onto the tape, nearly made us break into hysterical laughter. Out of respect for the moment, we stifled our mirth, but it did not prevent Derek from wearing a broad grin.
Athena had done us proud. Over three hundred guests attended the reception in one of Johannesburg’s finest hotels, Lutje’s Langham. She had nearly driven the hotel staff and kitchen crazy with her constant inspections of the tables and in particular the meal itself. As a result, it was a wedding much talked about for months to come. My dad made a valiant effort to read a speech in Greek, with the mispronunciation of some words, causing mild hysterics amongst the predominantly Greek guests. When asked by friends who attended the wedding, I replied, “All three hundred of Hero’s family and closest friends and all five of mine!” We also invited my dreaded boss. I think he was quite intimidated by the event. The scariest moment for me was the first dance. Hero was recognized as the best Greek dancer in Johannesburg as well as both a ballet and Spanish dancer. I was recognized for my two left feet! As we did the waltz, Hero muttered 1-2-3 1-2-3 for my sake but the left feet simply couldn’t count beyond two. Somehow, Hero made us look as though we were in unison but sadly it was an illusion!
After a wonderful honeymoon in the Drakensberg mountains followed by a few days in Durban staying with Dennis and Devi Bughwan (strictly against the Apartheid laws), we settled down to married life. Hero was worried that at 26 (I was 28) she should produce some babies right away. She managed to provide us with four children (two boys and two girls) in five years. Much as I loved the kids, it was tough to provide for this large family on my meagre salary. Killarney Studios clearly felt that there were plenty of would-be filmmakers and writers dying for a job in movies. And they were right, so our salaries were of the “take it or leave it” variety.
My father-in-law was an odd mixture of generosity and tight-fistedness. I was determined to prove I could make it on my own. It was a tradition in the Greek community for the parents of the bride to provide a home for the young couple. As they now lived more in Mozambique than Johannesburg, they gave us their five-bedroom mansion as a wedding gift. It was a mixed blessing as the upkeep was horrendous. Nevertheless, I was very grateful for the magnificent gift. One thing Zacharias never did was to offer us money and I was equally determined not to ask for any. Athena, however, did persuade him to pay for our kids to attend private schools. Sadly, this only lasted a couple of years before he suddenly decided that private schools were not worth paying for. By then all four of our children were settled into a fine school called SAHETI (South African Educational Training Institute), which offered a high standard of education as well as large measures of Hellenic culture and Greek lessons once a day. I was furious. It would have been better if he had not agreed to pay in the first place. To abruptly take away something that had made the children blossom was a terrible blow. I gritted my teeth and somehow managed to continue paying the school fees. When the boys reached high school, once again Athena was keen that they should attend my old school, Michaelhouse. It was, however, the most expensive school in South Africa. As an Old Boy of the school, my children were offered a special scholarship of about two thirds of the fees. Once again Athena persuaded her husband to pay the balance. Unbelievably, he pulled the plug again after two years. This time I was still paying for the girls at SAHETI and now I had to pay for all four of them once more.
Most of this was against the backdrop of my dramas at Killarney and my eventual resignation after the British Lions rugby film debacle. Frankly, I then became a past master at being paid in advance for my freelance work as well as having to increase the bond on the house. I also became chairman of the Transvaal branch of the Michaelhouse Old Boys. In exchange, the school allowed me to pay off the remaining fees in small monthly increments. It was all very nerve-wracking but somehow all four children completed their education. Hero’s support over this period was fantastic. Ironically, at about this time, the Communist Frelimo regime took over Mozambique, ending the Portuguese colonial era. As a result, my father-in-law lost the fortune he had accumulated in that country. Hero’s brother Hector tried to prevent a takeover of the two factories and was put into solitary confinement in the notorious Machava prison for six months. Africa is not for sissies. I write this as a backdrop to my struggles to earn a decent living in the local movie industry.
Today, some nearly fifty years later, I’m happy to report that we as a family have survived in pretty good shape. All four of my children are having successful careers in Ireland, Britain and South Africa. They have jointly produced seven grandchildren. Hero and I have somehow survived some really tough times and are now pensioners in the UK.
I’m still busy writing and about to publish the third novel of my Willjohn Trilogy in addition to these blogs. Peter Warren gave me carte blanche to write whatever I wanted in the blogs. They have been a mixture of my pretty adventurous life and the first section of a fictional series involving ExoBrain. I will shortly return to the next section of the series which will take ExoBrain into the near future, postulating the positive and dramatic effect that ExoTechnology will have on the world of computing. With the age of ninety just around the corner, I can’t think a better way to wind up my working years with the ExoTech team!