Cecil Howard 1905-1990

by Tony Tomkins

 

Tony delivered the following words at Cecil's funeral.

 

Remarkable people are not to be defined by place and time. Cecil was a Norfolkman and proud of it, but there was nothing provincial about him. He was as much himself in the Greek Islands as in Lilburne Avenue. Similarly, though his life spanned all but fifteen years of the Twentieth Century, he was not exactly a typical Twentieth Century man. In any age chiefly remarkable for its gadgetry, for instance, he remained sublimely independent of technology, so that if you wanted him to have even a fridge or a telly, you had to give him one.

Like many people who came to maturity in the 20's, Cecil became a socialist. Unlike most, he went on being a socialist, not, I think, on any theoretical basis, but as the champion of ordinary men and women whom he saw as oppressed by those with wealth and authority. If you made a million, or became a policeman, a headmaster, or a judge, in Cecil's presence you had to be vigilant.

To the admiration of his friends, and to the exasperation of some, Cecil seemed to excel at everything he turned his hand to. Writing, golf, cricket, bridge and almost every other card game, and, of course, sailing. Most of these activities are games of various kinds. Cecil loved games. More particularly, he loved winning. He was a very competitive man. And this competitiveness spilled over into his social life. Cecil loved an argument, and when he was involved in one, he made sure he won it, by robust good sense if he was on reasonable grounds, by elaborate ingenuity if he wasn't.

And this competitiveness was strengthened by a characteristic even more central to his nature . . . I mean his single-mindedness. Most of us play the wrong card, or miss a tack, because our minds are only half on what we are doing; we are not really all there. More than any other man I have known, Cecil gave the impression of being totally present in everything he did. And this wholeness stayed with him into advanced old age. Many people, as they approach eighty, begin to drift away; they cease to be contemporaries, we start making allowances for them. Try that with Cecil, and stand back for an earful. No: the challenge, the charm, the exasperation, the generosity, the wit and the warmth were his to the end.

This integrity, of course, had a profound effect on Cecil's relationships with others. Many of us try to be all things to all men, presenting a different face to different people, as the occasion seems to demand. Not Cecil. He had only one face, warts and all, take it or leave it. We all accepted the invitation, and our lives have been enriched by our acceptance. And enriched not only as individuals. When we part today, we shall not just nod politely to each other, saying good-bye to a bridge partner, or our skipper, but among ourselves having nothing in common. Knowing Cecil was for us an education in friendship, and when I look around this chapel today, I see none but friends. His legacy is our fellowship. I want to end with a quotation, though I do it with some trepidation. The author is known to you and me as Shakespeare; to Cecil, he was more often 'The Bloody Boring Bard'. I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do.

Hamlet, thinking about his father:
            'He was a man, take him for all in all:
            We shall not look upon his like again.'