IN MEMORIAM

THE HIMALAYAN CLUB OBITUARY

  1. ROY E. HAWKINS
  2. SOLI S. MEHTA
  3. DR. EIZABURO NISHIBORI
  4. ANTHONY B. STOBART
  5. EDWARD HAMILTON MARRIOTT*
  6. MARCO PALLIS

Class of membership and Year of Election
R. E. Hawkins Honorary 1944
Dr E. Nishibori Honorary 1952
G. D. Kitchingman Life — Founder 1928
Major E. H. Marriot Life 1929
Paul Bauer Life 1930
Mrs. F. Williamson Life 1936
A. J. Young Life 1939
Soli S. Mehta Life 1955

 

 

ROY E. HAWKINS

(1907 — 1989)

To all appearance Roy Hawkins was very much his own man. Indeed, the distancing affability with which he accepted the reduction of his name to one syllable might well have indicated the presence of a rogue strain of this yeoman quality. This singular characteristic gained recognition in continued references to him as 'Hawk' — as he became affectionately, almost formally known — in a metropolitan society all too prone to calibrate where one is at by countenancing only whom one is with.

Hawk however made himself immovably comfortable in this milieu and his professional pre-eminence as an editor, publisher and manager in India of the Oxford University Press became legendary.. His was almost a diplomatic posting, for he represented one of the world's great universities in one of the world's great sub-continents. It is possible that* he enjoyed the bewilderment of some to whom it might have come as a surprise to discover that the OUP is not a commercial enterprise, but actually a department of the University.

If these wordly sources nourished his material strength they also ecouraged him to keep his own spiritual counsel. He upheld standards of personal conduct that were doggedly Edwardian in a world awash with sentiments of state-of-the-art liberality. Yet Hawk could take unction from an emulsion of such persuasions with selective relish. To brush against some of these traits in the Hawksian mode could provoke a sudden blinding vision of bloody-minded stubbornness. More often than not the cause was Hawk's razor-sharp insistence on bearing his own witness, from a considered personal interpretation of the good life, picking a way relentlessly through any outward signs of wary conformity.

Endearing recollections of the man — and of the quasi-public figure — appeared in the Indian and the British press shortly after Hawk's death in Bombay on 13 October 1989, at the age of 82. These accounts appropriately describe the salients on which Hawk left the moults of a distinguished professional lifetime. Each memoir brings into focus Hawk's methodical persistence with the detail of any project which became his concern. His invariably questing, clarity-seeking notes -carefully indexed — on any point he selected for accurate recall were a byword amongst those who enjoyed the privilege of working with him.

It is on this estimable capacity to distil and record detail that the curious may in future be able to rely, to piece together a dearer biographical picture. We find however that there is yet another Hawksian note in captivity. This does not reveal some fresh usage of 'Hinglish' minted from Indo-Anglian currency, nor does it offer a practical observation about the ambience of some situation on the long haul of one of Hawk's exhaustive Western Ghat treks, it is a note, by the all-too-reticent Hawk, about himself.

An autobiographical note is inevitably an eye-catcher. There is a particular fascination in what its author wishes to reveal and, when more is known, what the author has forgotten to mention or has opted not to express at all.

The fragment of autobiography that Roy Hawkins committed to posterity is a note identifying the donor of a few papers deposited by Hawk with the archives of the Centre of South Asian Studies at the University of Cambridge. These papers might be of interest some day to students of modern Indo-British history.

We know that Roy Ernest Hawkins was born in 1907 in Bath where he spent part of his schooldays at King Edward's School. Turning to Hawk's own note we learn what he himself thought the enquiring reader might usefully be told about his formative upbringing.

Describing the kind of person who put together the small collection of archival documents the note says, 'His parents were non-conformists and he was at the non-conformist school of Bishops Stortford College during the years 1920-25. The two masters who most influenced him there had been conscientious objectors during the war, one in Dartmoor and one in the Friends' Ambulance Unit. At school,' the note goes on in explain, 'Hawkins ceased to believe in organised Christianity and became a pacifist.'

The note passingly reminds us of what we know from elsewhere. Leaving school, Hawk became a member of The Queen's College at Oxford where he read modern languages, graduating in 1928. The twenties and the early thirties were the golden twilight years of a great British tradition of documented amateur travel. Those who have at some time, somewhere been exposed to Hawk's unheralded appearance whilst pausing on a trail from almost anywhere might be surprised to learn that, instead of hitting the road in 1928, Roy Hawkins 'worked as Boys' Secretary at the Red Triangle Club, Plaistow, London E. 13. This was between 1928 and 1930 and the note explains that 'Spengler's Decline of the West was much discussed at the time of the publication of the English translation (1926-8), and though he had not read it Hawkins was depressed by the failure of the disarmament conferences in Europe and was looking elsewhere. He read Fulop-Miller's Lenin and Gandhi and wanted to learn more about Gandhi.'

As Hawk himself points out, this explains the presence of the first of the documents he sent to the Cambridge archives in 1967. It is a 'holograph letter from Mira Behn (Miss Slade), Satyagrahashram, Samarmati', addressed to R. E. Hawkins and dated 17 March 1930.

Thus it does not come as such a surprise to learn of the next development when Hawk arranged with C. F. Andrew's encouragement, to join the staff of a modern school to be opened in Delhi.' Hawk explains that 'this school was a casualty of the non-cooperation movement' and so he never became a schoolmaster.

He found a way into India nevertheless via Bombay when in September 1930 he arrived as an assistant in the Bombay branch of the Oxford University Press. Here the earnest young seeker who never became a schoolmaster developed his capacities to contribute with distinction to late Indo-Anglian life in a number of significant fields. He became the friend, mentor and publisher of several pioneering scholars whose works rtre landmarks, and not only in Indian publishing. For some forty-five years he edited and published Salim Ali's indispensable ornithological handbooks, including the mature fruits of that major collaboration, Salim Ali and Dillon Ripley's ten-volume Handbook to the Birds of India and Pakistan. The early best-seller success of Minoo Masani's Our India was capped, through Hawk's encouragement, with the publication of the book that made Shikari literary history, Jim Corbett's Man Eaters of Kumaon and many Corbett books followed. Hawk also published the magnificently illustrated monographs by Verrier Elwin, the ethnographer- anthropologist whose insights offered afreely emerging nation visions of its own cultural ethnicity. Hawk's sustained editorial association with the Journal of the Bombay Natural History Society and also with the Himalayan Journal is well known.

Hawk himself translated the French of Bruhl's Indian Temples which the OUP published in 1937. After he retired in 1971 he applied his painstaking care and energy to compiling a Supplement of Words from India, Pakistan. Bangladesh and Sri Lanka which in 1976 enlivened the fourth edition of the Little Oxford Dictionary in India. To this labour he brought a working literacy in Hindi which he had formally consolidated by 1953. Revised and expanded, the Supplement itself became a separate publication in 1980, Common Indian Words in English under his name. In 1978 Hawk brought Jim Corbett to the notice of a new generation of readers with his edited selections for and a perceptive introduction to Jim Corbett's India. A major post-retirement accomplishment was the carefully planned Encyclopaedia of Indian Natural History which Hawk monitored as General Editor till its Dublication in 1986.

The bias of Hawk's autobiographical note will by now have revealed some of its significance. It offers clues to an ideological format within which his life of such productive dedication may be understood. It corroborates later developments. Hawk's professional distinction has tended to obscure the day-to-day felicities of a life which encompassed involvement with a succession of worthy voluntary causes — to mention an early enthusiasm, the now defunct Bombay Film Society — for vhich behind-the-scenes idealism has a role to play. If his individuality often caused bafflement, bafflement both as cause and effect can also be components of individuality. Hawk's many personal kindnesses live on in the lives of those who had the good fortune of discovering how to get to know him.

FOY NISSEN

(Kind permission from the Centre of South Asian Studies, Cambridge, to quote from documents deposited by R. E. Hawkins is most gratefully acknowledged).

 

THE LATE R. E. HAWKINS, who made the Oxford University Press in India an upper middle class British institution for over thirty years, belonged to an era which terminated in England in the middle thirties.

Up to the early thirties the British Public Schools were based on 'classical' education, occasionally with elementary mathematics thrown in as a necessary nuisance.

There was an incredibly rapid change in the middle thirties, when the emphasis changed to mathematics and the sciences, with the 'classics' thrown in for general educational enlightenment. R. E. Hawkins, or 'Hawk' as he was known to his many close friends in India, missed the changeover to the sciences at his Public School and as he took French Literature for his degree at Oxford he had all the virtues and the idealism of a past generation.

As Hawk also belonged to an era, when the British upper layers had serious doubts about the moral values of their class system his relationships with Indians were much closer than would have been possible with the colonial British of an earlier period, tie cultivated his Indian relationships to the extent that nearly all his friends with the exception of an Irishman with an Indian wife, were Indians, mainly with British University backgrounds. Hawk's attitude to Indians of the underprivileged classes was somewhat overloaded with sympathy, which was not understood or appreciated by them at the time. The Indian merchant traders, the Bombay landlords in other words, exploited him ruthlessly because of his obvious innocence in the ways of their caste.

Hawk's standard of personal integrity would be considered quite incredible in this corrupt day and age. Although entitled to all the British perks and privileges, he took none of these allowances which made living in India worth the heat and filth to the other Europeans. He insisted for instance on buying his own car, which he ran on his salary, and on paying his rent. His 'bug' Fiat was a sight for the gods, until it finally packed up under pressure. One suspects that his standards made him somewhat unpopular with the other British employees who kept drifting in and out of Oxford University Press at short intervals.

When Hawk came down from Oxford, he was imbued with his social reform idealism which led to a marriage with a totally incompatible female from the East End. That marriage broke up in nine months and had an impact on his happiness but not on his outlook or his ideals.

Hawk's frequent 'serious' discussions were held with his friends, among whom were General Sokhey, J. P. Patel, Richard Landauer, Evelyn Wood and Salim Ali. These worthy gentlemen with many achievements to their credit, were so intense in their exchanges that they frequently lost contact with each other and held forth solo sotto voce!

Hawk's puckish sense of humour was much in evidertce, mostly during his hikes with his walking companions. On one such long trip in Sikkim, bordering Tibet, he persuaded his companions that a morning bath was not to be missed, mind you even at sub zero temperatures, quoting his own example. His friends were not amused when they discovered that flu — bath room noises emanating from his tent were caused by paddling a log of wood in a pail of water, with no bathing involved !

It was fortunate for Hawk that his entire career was in India because of his love for the outdoors, for wildlife and for flora and fauna. Apart from covering the Western Ghats on foot, his excursions into Sikkim, Kashmir and Tibet were fabulous in scope and many such expeditions were tent and sleeping bag affairs. Hawk's eyesight was limited, he was almost blind in one eye, and this handicap led to many narrow shaves in his mountaineering expeditions.

Hawk's affinity to wild life — birds, squirrels and dogs, amony these — restored one's faith in the understanding which all living species, and some say plants and flowers, have for each other.

Birds and squirrels flocked to Hawk on his veranda, without urging and friends visiting him with their pet dogs were amazed at the spontaneous welcome each animal gave to Hawk, the larger dogs often knocking him down in the process. His own pet was a nondescript and intelligent street dog who spent the evenings curled up at his feet.

It was a common sight to see Hawk covered with wounds during his hikes in the Western Ghats and his eyesight made it an ordeal for his friends who were with him in the Himalaya. His penchant for adventure had a decided impact on Indians and without that influence one wonders whether the many hiking clubs of today would have come into being in the Forties.

I wonder whether this portrayal of Hawk has succeeded in conveying that his many forays into the wilds were motivated by his sense of adventure. The India of those days with its glorious, untouched countryside and wildlife offered adventure on a scale which was not to be found in Europe or America. You could see from Hawk's serene face at the beginning of a walk that adventure in the great outdoors was what living meant for him.

Mind you Hawk's love for the exotic could lead to trouble, as on one of his forays up Magic Mountain, so called because one never seemed to be able to reach the summit. To start off with, Hawk insisted that he and his Indian friend should fill up at a local Irani restaurant, where the food at the best of times was volcanic. As a consequence a great deal of the climb up Magic Mountain was spent in getting rid of their meal. On the way down Hawk and his friend were hailed by a gang of hospitable bootleggers who offered liquid refreshment, in the shape of their doubtful brew. After Hawk had partaken happily of the brew his face suddenly went green and he was out like a light ! The bootleggers were helpful in carrying Hawk, on a stretcher to the 'bug' Fiat, the tyres of which vehicle were found to be deflated, as he had parked his Rolls Royce on field stubble in the dark.

The next morning the General Manager of Oxford University Press reported late for work !

As far as his work in Oxford University Press was concerned. Hawk was a perfectionist and there is little doubt that the excellent Oxford University Press standards were largely due to his unremitting efforts.

In fact one supposes that Hawk's main contribution to India was the high level he established in the publishing business and in our book trade.

His many friends will regret that Hawk had to bear with cancer for years, due to neglect in the early stages of the disease but he never allowed pain to dampen his spirits or his sense of humour.

If Hawk had lived longer, one wonders whether he could have made his peace with the nouveau riche corrupt standards of the country of his adoption.

Indeed with his death the last of a British breed has vanished from India.

Indra Chatterji

Roy E. Hawkins

52. Roy E. Hawkins (Foy Nissen)

 

 

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SOLI S. MEHTA

(1927 — 1989)

I MET Soli Metha in 1959 at a Himalayan Club dinner in Bombay, with which commenced a three-decade long close association in our common pursuit — love of the Himalaya. The same year saw the founding of the Climbers' Club, under the then banner ‘Mountaineering Course Sponsoring Committee' to organise the first ever rock climbing course in India outside Darjeeling, to be offered to the youth of Bombay in series of four-day courses, under the instructors from Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, Darjeeling. Soli enthusiastically paticipated in the organisation of these courses. He himself became an ardent rock climber and with Dara Mistry, opened up a number of routes on the rocks of the Parsik hills and nearby areas, during their regular Sunday outings.

Soli also underwent a Basic Course at H.M.I, and in 1963 did an Advance Course also. This training gave a sound basis for mountaineering technique. However, this had not prompted Soli to participate in any mountain climbing expedition to the Himalaya. Perhaps this was due to the consideration for the views of his wife Meheru, to whom he was deeply devoted. However, both loved the Himalaya for what it offered by way of a glimpse of the magnificence of nature and the enjoyment of high altitude outdoor living. Indeed they trekked the Himalaya together. Soli undertook some difficult treks in the company of a few friends.

In the early sixties Soli took over the task of Honorary Local Secretary — Bombay, of the Himalayan Club from R. E. Hawkins. In those years the Club had about two dozen members at Bombay. It held a modest stock of equipment. Soli was responsible to set up a Bombay Section library by obtaining duplicate copies of books from the main library at Calcutta. He made arrangement with the Bombay Natural History Society to house this H.C. Section in a separate cupboard.

Soli's love for books was phenomenal. It must have caused irritation at home with his evergrowing collection enroaching the space at home. To this was added papers and files of correspondence when he took up compiling the Himalayan Club Newsletter in 1964, and later the editorship of the Himalayan Journal in 1969. His approach to both these tasks was thorough and painstaking, leading the Journal to reach the excellence witnessed in the early issues under the editorship of stalwarts like Kenneth Mason. This brought him close to many editors of other Journals and the Club correspondents, with whom he established lasting personal bonds of friendship.

Soli made instant friends, even with those with different viewpoint or approach. He valued his freedom of thought as that of others. He was averse to regimentation of thoughts in general and in mountaineering in particular. He took instinctively to the Tilman-Shipton approach to mountains. He was critical of siege tactics of assault on a mountain in the army fashion.

Towards the end-sixties the Himalayan Club increasingly faced administrative difficulties as a result of expatriate office bearers leaving Calcutta for home. They held the reign at Calcutta soon after -1947 when the administration of the Club was transferred from Delhi for similar reason. However, the situation in 1968-70 was so confounded that there was even a thought of winding up the Club and removing the valuable library to England! Eventually the library was shifted to Delhi and the principal office taken to Bombay in mid-1971. A hew lease of life was ensured for the Club. Soli was posted to Calcutta in 1969 and was already entrusted with the editorship of the Journal. In the next year and a half, Soli with a few remaining members of the Committee ensured a smooth transfer.

When Soli assumed editorship, two volumes were in arrears. He brought new enthusiasm to the task, with Vol. XXX (1970) consisting of 343 pages of text plus scores of pages of illustrations. Vol. XXXI (1971) was even bigger with 372 text pages plus illustrations almost double the usual size. Unfortunately, Vol. XXXI could not be released from Calcutta due to closure of Baptist Mission Press. Soli sent the unbound forms to Bombay for binding and a delayed release in September 1973. However, the prolific two jumbo-issues almost brought the Club's finances to the brink! The resourceful Hon. Treasurer Gulab Ramchandani saved the situation by proposing changes in the rules for token contributory subscription from Life Members for the Journals, being the only viable alternative for continuation of the publication.

Soli brought to the Journal his vast knowledge of the Himalaya, a mine of information from his personal collection of reference books and maps and what was more, a rare integrity and courage. He deplored sycophancy and sheer career promotion motivation which was evidencing in the mountaineering scene in India. Often this led to exaggerated and inaccurate versions of expeditions, even to the extent of making erroneous claims. To inculcate the true spirit of the sport, Soli wrote a special article on the subject which was published in H.J. Vol. XXXII.

In 1962 I wrote a paper entitled Nilkanth — Still Unclimbed ? It was a critical analysis of the Government sponsored expedition to the virgin peak in Garhwal, which claimed the first ascent. I read out the MSS to Soli for his critical appreciation over several sessions. Soli wrote a public comment in the Times of India. Soli had also written a detailed note on the subject for publication in the Himalayan Journal (which then was not under his editorship). He was indeed annoyed to find his critical comments being deleted from the publication in the Journal (Vol. XXIX).

Similarly, Soli would go to great lengths to convince a climber of an inaccurate claim. As an instance, I had sent several notes to Soli at Calcutta, to explain an erroneous claim of the first ascent of Sudarshan Parbat by a local team. Soli had a number of sessions to take the point across with the aid of the notes sent. Finally, he contacted the officials of the Survey of India in Calcutta to show the climbers aerial photographs of the region which finally persuaded the climbers that they had indeed climbed a lesser nearby peak, which they had mistaken as Sudarshan Parbat.

By training Soli was Dyes Technician having received his degree at St. Catherine's College, Cambridge, England. He joined the I.C.I. (India) in 1950 and eventually served in senior posts at Bombay, Calcutta (Rishra), Sudan and later in Nigeria, till his retirement in 1985. He was looking forward to an active retirement to pursue causes dear to his heart. Upon return to India he resumed the editorship of H.J. from 1985. From the following year, he was made a Vice-President. For his permanent home, Soli selected Pune, where he acquired a new apartment in a quieter area overlooking the Mula-Mutha river.

As a final effort in the service of the Himalayan Club, Soli took up the challenging task of producing a Diamond Jubilee publication on the lesser known peaks in the Himalaya, in joint authorship with Harish Kapadia. It was sad that he did not see the final copy on publication in February 1990.

Born in a Farsi family on 15 January, 1927, Soli grew up in Bombay. He was the youngest of the three children. He took to music like fish to water — became a child prodigy — playing piano. At a young age of eight, he was selected by the All India Radio to broadcast piano concerto as a regular feature. He had a gifted ear for music and having heard a piece could effortlessly reproduce it from memory and even did so for a broadcast, in the absence of his notes. The love for music remained active through his school, college and later in life took to cello. Soli played regularly for the Bombay Chamber Orchestra. Soli's trait for writing and editing has been taken up further by his daughter Naushad, who is a journalist with Time magazine in U.S.A. His love for music is carried further by another daughter Yasmeen, having obtained masters of fine arts in Modern Dance at California.

Soli will be long remembered as the kindhearted soul, always keen to give a helping hand, full of humour, off stage or on stage during talks and infectious enthusiasm. At Rishra Soli conducted a boys Club for the local children in the neighbourhood, for cultural activities. It was never too old to learn for Soli, as he took up yoga when he was over forty. Since his young years, he participated in athletics and played hockey, tennis and golf. At his new Pune home, he kept himself fit by exercising climbing up and down stairs of the three-storey building twenty times which the kids loved to follow in emulation. It was an irony of fate that a person so fit, with zest for life, was struck down on 4 November, 1989 with coronary thrombosis at the age of 62 years. His life could be summed up with this shloka from Bhagwat Geeta:

'He whose pleasure is within himself,
who derives joy within himself, who
has a shining light within himself.
That yogi attains final liberation
and is absorbed in Brahma'.

Jagdish Nanavati

Soli S Mehta

53. Soli S Mehta (Harish Kapadia)

 

 

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DR. EIZABURO NISHIBORI

(1903—1989)

DR. EIZABURO NISHIBORI

DR EIZABURO NISHIBORI, a scientist, was a true leader of Japanese mountaineering, exploration and expedition activities in the world. In his younger days he was a mountaineer, explorer and later became a pioneer of Japanese Himalayan mountaineering and also of the Antarctic expedition. More recently he was a supporter of many Japanese yourig adventurers like the late Naomi Uemura and Motohiko Kogo, not only spiritually but also financially. Dr Nishibori was a president of the Japanese Alpine Club during 1977 to 1981. He was a life member of the Himalayan Club since 1952 and Honorary member of both clubs.

Dr Nishibori was born in Kyoto, Japan on 28 January, 1903, and passed away on 13 April, 1989 in Tokyo. He was 86 years old. Thousands of people attended his funeral and prayed for his peaceful eternal voyage at St. Andrew's Church on 18th of April.

Dr Nishibori as a scientist showed his uncompromising ability in various fields of science, from chemistry to electronics and later in nuclear energy. After graduating from the science department of Kyoto Imperial University in 1928, he continued his studies on the fundamentals of chemical reactions as a researcher at the university. In 1936, he was awarded a doctor of science degree, and was appointed as an assistant professor. But he desired research work in a practical field rather than academic and he joined the Tokyo Electric Company (later the name changed to the Toshiba Corporation) and conducted research work on vacuum tubes. Because of his valuable experience in research he was despatched to the General Electric Co., U.S.A. and Radio Corporation of America by the Tokyo Electric Co., for further research work in 1939. In 1943, during the war, he was given an award by the Gijutsuin, Japanese Government's Agency of Technology, for research on electric science.

As a mountaineer in younger days, he climbed various Japanese mountains both in summer and winter seasons. In particular in 1925, he made the first successful winter climb of Mt Kitadake, Japan's second highest peak in the Southern Alps of Japan, on skis, with his colleagues from Kyoto, such as the late Prof T. Shidei and the late Prof T. Kuwabara. In 1931, Dr. Nishibori together with Prof K. Imanishi and many other young university mountaineers founded the Academic Alpine Club of Kyoto, and planned to send a Himalayan expedition inspired by Paul Bauer, a Bavarian mountaineer who had been to Kangchenjunga. The A.A.C.K. decided to organize an expedition team to Kabru N (7338 m), south of Kangchenjunga and trained in the Himalayan type of mountaineering called the polar method, on Mt Fuji in winter. However, the political situation changed and forced them to alter their plans. The A A.C.K. decided it was not the right time to send a Himalayan expedition. So they turned their eyes to the areas politically more accessible from Japan such as Korea, Manchuria, Karafuto (Sakhalin island) and the islands of the south Pacific Ocean. In winter of 1934 the A.A.C.K. sent the expedition team to Paektu-san (White Head Mountain) (2744 m), a rather low but a large scale mountain on the frontier area of North Korea and China. The leader of the team was Prof Imanishi and Dr Nishibori joined the team as a vice-leader with 11 other members. It was the first large size expedition of mountaineering and also scientific survey of the area.

Dr Nishibori continued his research work after the Second World War, in Toshiba Corpn. and Tokai University and had been awarded the Deming Award in 1954 for his work in promoting quality control in Industry in Japan.

In January 1957, Dr Nishibori was appointed as a vice-leader of the first Japanese Antarctic Research Expedition and had been to the Antarctic by a survey boat, the ice breaker 'Soya', and established the Showa observation camp on an island of Antarctic. He spent a winter season at the Showa base with his team and aided in the success of the survey work. Later, his book, 'Antarctic Winter Passed Record', was widely read by many people and today is still a popular selling book in Japan. He was a real leader of such parties and the Antarctic survey by Japan still continues throughout the year.

In the Himalaya, he was the first Japanese who visited Nepal after the Second World War or after the opening of that country to foreigners. In 1952, he visited Nepal and received permission from the Nepalese authority to climb Manaslu (8163 m). This was the first Japanese approach to the Himalaya since Rikkio University's Nanda Kot Expedition in 1936, and was a good opportunity to climb an eight thousand metre peak.. The A.A.C.K. decided to transfer this mountaineering permission to the Japanese Alpine Club, to have greater nation-wide support. The J.A.C. sent an expedition team five times to Manaslu and achieved the first ascent in 1956.

In his career work, Dr Nishibori was appointed as a director of the Japan Atomic Energy Research Institute in 1958 and was in the position through 1964. He was a director of Japan Nuclear Ship Research and Development Agency from 1964 to 1968 where he was in charge of developing the nuclear powered ship, 'Mutsu'.

In 1971, he was appointed as a director of the Japan Productivity Centre and in 1974 as an advisor to the Japanese Standard Association. Besides the above Dr Nishibori had been appointed to many advisory or consulting positions in various fields of Japanese industry and government.

In 1970's and 1980's, Japan had sent numerous number of Himalayan expeditions to Nepal, India, Bhutan and Tibet, and it can be said that this was due to the efforts of Dr Nishibori and other pioneers of the exploring spirit of Japan. Among large size expeditions to an eight thousand metre peak in Himalaya, Dr Nishibori had led the A.A.C.K. expedition to Yalung Kang (8505 m) near Kangchenjunga in 1973, and in 1980 he was the General Leader of the J.A.C.'s Chomolungma (Everest) expedition.

Tatsu Kambara

 

 

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ANTHONY B. STOBART

(1903—1989)

ANTHONY BRYDGES STOBART, who died on 1 May, 1989, at the age of 85, had been a member of the Himalayan Club for over 50 years. He made expeditions into the Himalaya in the early 1930s, and never had the opportunity to return, but he retained an interest in the region and particularly in the exploits of Himalayan mountaineers.

ANTHONY B. STOBART

ANTHONY B. STOBART

Anthony Stobart was born, in County Durham in England on 6 October, 1903. He was educated at Osborne and at the Royal Naval College, Dartmouth, before going up to Pembroke College, Cambridge, in 1921. He was not academically gifted but proved to be a distinguished oarsman. In his second year he stroked the Pembroke First Eight, which went head of the river for the first time in the history of the college.

At the end of his second year, he decided to leave Cambridge, in order to start working. Because of his rowing ability, Pembroke College persuaded him to change his mind. He stayed on for a third year and stroked the Cambridge boat to victory in the Oxford and Cambridge boat race of 1924.

He joined Dorman Long, the steel-making company, in that year and worked first in Middlesborough and then for about four years in their branch office in Calcutta. It was on leave from this office that he made two expeditions to Sikkim. On one of them he attempted, with Latimer .ind Osmaston, to climb Fluted Peak, and came within 200 feet of the summit before being forced to turn back because darkness was approaching.

During his period in India, he also made an expedition to Kashmir Ix'fore returning to England.

Soon after his return, he changed jobs for the first and only time in his life and joined John Summers and Sons, another steel-making company, based on the Dee estuary in North Wales. He was sent out to South America, where John Summers had galvanising plants in Chile nnd in Buenos Aires, in Argentina.

After 18 months in Chile, he returned to Europe on leave in 1937. He crossed the Atlantic by Zeppelin, arriving in Germany, so he took the opportunity to travel to Austria and Hungary before returning to his parents' house in England. In Hungary he met Countess Julia Marzani and within two weeks was engaged. They married in Innsbruck on September 9, 1937, shortly before his leave ended.

Returning to Argentina, he became general manager of the Anglo-Argentine Iron Company, a subsidiary of John Summers, which operated a galvanising plant in Buenos Aires. He kept the company running throughout the war, when raw materials were very hard to obtain, an achievement which enabled the company to return to prosperity immediately after the war.

In 1947 Anthony Stobart returned to the U.K. with his wife and four ohildren, all of whom had been born in Argentina. He became a director of John Summers, responsible initially for the purchase of raw materials, and later for labour relations, a function that became crucial to the company's performance in the 1960s and 1970s.

He retired from John Summers in 1971, two years after it had been nationalised by the Labour government.

From 1953 to 1977 he lived in Flintshire, in North Wales, where his main interests were always connected to the countryside : gardening, wild life, shooting and fishing. In 1977 he and his wife moved to Long Compton, on the edge of the Cotswolds, in Warwickshire, where again he created a beautiful garden around his new home.

Julia Stobart died in 1983, leaving Anthony Stobart a widower at the age of 79. In 1986 he married Susan Gladstone and enjoyed three happy years with her.

Anthony Stobart was a modest and generous man, always true to his principles. He was not ambitious; a man with his achievements could have attained much greater personal recognition. His interests however, were his family, past as well as present, and the community and countryside that he lived in and knew well. Hard work and honesty were the virtues that he exemplified and admired. He made new friends throughout his life, and was remembered with particular affection by the employees of John Summers in North Wales and in Argentina. It gave him particular pleasure to be invited back to Argentina in 1982 for the 75th anniversary celebrations of the company that he had managed there.

Christopher A. Stobart

 

 

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EDWARD HAMILTON MARRIOTT*

(1906—1985)

CHARLES (as he was known to his climbing friends) died unexpectedly after a short illness on 20 October 1985. He was 79. He had returned just a few weeks earlier from the Himalaya, where he had succeeded in completing the Annapurna circuit as far as Jomosom. His suitcase and tent were packed ready for an extended visit to Australia and New Zealand.

Charles joined the Royal Artillery in 1924 and spent some years in India. He retired soon after the war with the rank of Major, eventually 'settling' in Cornwall in 1958.

At 16 Charles was introduced to the Swiss Alps by his father, and was hooked on mountaineering for life. Four years later, at Easter 1926, he made his first ascent on British rocks, sandwiched between Nea Morin(then Barnard) and her brother. The climb was Kern Knotts Chimney. Other companions in those early years included Eric Shipton, Gilbert Ppaker and Douglas Miner.

* Reprinted from The Alpine Journal, Vol. 92, 1983 with the kind permission of the editor.

He continued to visit the Alps regularly, climbing in the summer and skiing in the winter. He was a member of the New Zealand Alpine Club, Swiss Alpine Club and the Himalayan Club. His years in India gave him opportunities for trekking and exploring in Kashmir, and the Himalaya remained his first love.

During the war, he was an instructor in mountaineering at the Commando Mountain Warfare School and later at the mountaineering wing in Lebanon. On leaving the army, he travelled in Africa, where he climbed in the Drakensberg. He spent two seasons in the New Zealand Alps where he climbed with Graham Brooke.

Charles stoutly resisted advances in climbing equipment. On our local club meets in the early seventies, he wore a hemp waist-line and was scathing of the trend towards racks of chocks. Waterproof gear was for lesser mortals, and his home-made rucksack stilL had the hole gnawed by a rat in Tasmania years before. It didn't matter, as it usually contained little except a canvas anorak (also home-made) and a couple of bottles of beer.

Charles loved the sea. His most noteworthy voyages were those he made with Bill Tilman in 'Mischief. He sailed with Tilman four times. The first voyage was to Patagonia in 1955. Even then his unique belongings and gear were a source of wonder and interest to the crew. Charles was blessed with exceptionally good sight, and saved the day on the return crossing of the Patagonian ice-cap when, during a blizzard, he spotted an all-important food-dump which was almost buried under fresh snow.

He proved himself a capable sea-cook on his next voyage, to Greenland in 1961, and he returned to Greenland three years later. Charles last sailed with Tilman in 1968 on the ill-fated voyage to Jan Mayen Island which ended with the loss of 'Mischief.

As he reached his mid-seventies, Charles spent even less time at home, travelling extensively to many parts of the world. In between travels, he worked diligently, representing the southwest on the British Mountaineering Council for many years, including a period as Chairman for the area.

Charles had a certain elan which ensured that he coulti walk into the smoothest hotel lounge in black beret, holey sweater and muddy boots and be treated with deference. The effect was heightened when he dressed for the occasion. Tilman describes his arrival in Greenland, still nursing a bad foot: '... In yachting cap and gumboots, his beard a sable silver, monocle in eye and supported by an ice-axe, Charles stepped ashore like a slimmer edition of King Edward landing at Cowes from the Royal Yacht. The crowd were speechless with delight. At last, they thought, the captain of 'Mischief ' ha'd condescended to visit them'. (Mischief in Greenland, 1964.)

Those who were privileged to visit Charles at home in Cornwall will know that to enter his cottage was an experience. Often the visitor had to pick a wary path between the piles of papers, books and boxes which covered every available space. But it would be wrong to assume that this was so much clutter. It was a huge, ordered filing system — and if Tilman planned his expeditions on the back of envelopes, we suspect he learned the trick from Charles !

Charles lived in conditions which many would consider spartan. He had his own priorities and preferred travelling to home comforts. But the welcome at Bosullow was always hospitable. There was a comprehensive range of liquid refreshment; this was only offered if the sun was over the yardarm. Afternoon tea was a daily ritual whether or not there were visitors — who might stay for a few minutes, or a few weeks for that matter. Charles would put you up or lend you his car if you needed it. His generosity came from his concern for others, and he was a true friend in need. He had a respect for people as individuals, regardless of age or sex. Though not one to suffer fools gladly, he was a very kind and most considerate man.

Among many memories, two are particularly vivid.

The hurricane which hit Cornwall in December 1979, demolishing the chimney and caravan at Bosigran, also left a gaping hole in Charles's cottage roof. Temporary repairs were urgently required, and a group of us were trying to position a tarpaulin over the hole with the aid of old climbing ropes. Charles organized us with great efficiency and enthusiasm as we struggled in gale-force winds. In the end he climbed up through the hole in his bedroom ceiling and emerged on the roof to put the final touches to the operation by hand. To him, the inconvenience, discomfort and sheer mess of the situation were nothing compared to the fun of working out the logistics of the problem. He enjoyed himself immensely. When all was under control he appeared with a dusty bottle in his hand and a twinkle in his eye. 'I've been saving this for a suitable occasion, and I think this is it!' It was champagne, and, of course, excellent.

The second is on what we believe was his last-rock-climb, the date was 26 July 1983 at Cam les Boel near Land's End. Charles, in old grey flannels, tatty sweater and the inevitable black beret, was whistling his way upwards. The whistling, as always, was quite tuneless, and a sign of deep concentration. An accident to one eye had left him with difficulty in judging the distances between holds, and this limited his rock-climbing in later years—but the style was still there.

Charles was very much his owmman, an individualist, true to his own beliefs and values. He rests in the place he chose himself, by the little Cornish church where he worshipped. It is a slightly overgrown place, not too tidy but very beautiful, and it looks towards Bosigran and the sea. It is just right.

John and Janet Atherton

 

 

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MARCO PALLIS

(1895—1989)

ALTHOUGH NOT A member of the Himalayan Club, Macro Pallis was such an important Himalayan traveller and mountain climber, and one who wrote about this one of the most attractive books ever written about Himalayan mountain travel Peaks and Lamas, that his death il the age of 93 calls for notice.

Marco, as he was always known to his friends, was a well known personality in British mountaineering circles in the nineteen twenties and thirties. He climbed both at home and in the European alps and Himalaya. In England he was on the first ascent of Mickledore Grooves, and an early ascent of the famous and very hard Central Buttress, on Scawfell Crag. But it was Marco's pioneering of the small expedition to the I Himalaya, and its nowadays so called alpine-style climbing there, which attracted attention. In 1933 he led a small party of five climbers to the Gangotri glacier region in Tehri Garhwal where a first ascent was made of the hard Bhagirathi III (in those days called Central Satopanth through lack of proper maps). Thereafter some of us stayed on and crossed the Nela pass with him and descended the Baspa river to its junction with the Satluj which we then followed almost to its source before turning off to reach the unclimbed mountain Leo Pargial, on the Indo-Tibetan frontier, which Marco and I then climbed.

Soon after that the War put an end to most climbing, but Marco made one more excursion into the Sikkim Himalaya before that happened; and after the War, he managed to get into Tibet. All his expeditions were centred around his consuming interest in the Tibetan culture and language. After his last expedition into Tibet, he really gave up mountaineering as an interest and concentrated on his two great loves : old music and Tibetan studies. A pupil of Arnold Dolmetch, he played in a consort of viols in London. And up until his death, he was composing an opera on the theme of the great Tibetan teacher Milarepa.

Tibet and its way of life and culture always remained his main love. In this he supported the Dalai Lama when he was in England.

But Marco Pallis! A household name amongst most mountaineers of my generation. A very gentle, gifted and most lovable man.

Charles Warren

 

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