He loved to laugh, loved a good time, and loved company. He's always with us
by John Curnow 24 Nov 2024 22:36 UTC
Farewell good friend - you were a superstar, Ian Wall © Jenny Wall
Ian Wall. What a guy. I am not sure anyone knows how many people ‘Wallie’ taught to sail, but judging by the number of people he kept in contact with, all over the world, it was thousands. Equally, Wallie was known as an industrious sought of a guy, but to be honest, in many ways he WAS the industry, especially in Victoria. When you’d speak with him on the phone he was forever picking up a boat here or dropping them off there. Always... Come to think of it, just how many kays had he driven? Wow.
He was no quitter. It was not an option, and outcome was always the focus. He was inspirational in that way, amongst so many others. When working alongside him you might have felt tired or over it, but a quick joke, maybe a few terse words directed towards the issues at hand, and you were back into it with a newfound gusto.
There will be loads and loads of people at Black Rock Yacht Club for his memorial at 12noon on November 29. As it should be. In typical style, he did not want a funeral. Wallie wanted a send-off. A celebration of living and making the most of it, and boy did he do just that. It is my fervent hope that when times get a bit whatever in the future I will be able to think to myself, ‘Well, Wallie would not want any of that!’, thereby picking myself up and getting a smile back on the dial. No doubt, many, many others will be aiming to do the same.
A friend to both of us, Chris Smethurst goes back much longer than I do with Wallie. Some 40 odd years, as it turns out, when Chris got into Sharpies. Smethurst regales many a tale from then to now and explains, “Back then he was exactly how he remained until the end. Very generous with his time, especially when I was new to the class. I was virtually a kid out of the Cadets at Brighton, and how I got to sail in Sharpies was that they had a promotion day at Brighton, where there was probably a dozen Sharpies come down and race. They virtually took all of the Cadet guys out for a sail that were moving up into another class, and it went from there. You'd put your name on a list, and they'd pick you off the list when looking for crew.”
“So I got very involved with the Sharpies, joined Black Rock, and Wallie was made himself known to us all and was so very welcoming. He was exactly the same from then on, and always up for a bit of mischief. We had a lot of laughs, and he and Ray Eades would play off each other as well, creating even more activity. Never a dull moment with them around.”
At that stage Wallie worked for Supreme Sails on Bay Road, where he’d gone after school. Others of that era were Mark Rimington and Lee Dorrington, albeit at different lofts, but the paths always crossed. That was back when Australia made things, and Supreme Sails had leather patches on the clews, for instance, and many still show up at classic regattas, so have stood the test of time all right. It certainly was a hallmark of the guy that the job always got done properly, and just like the sails, this Wallie trademark certainly lasted the whole journey.
Now Wallie’s industriousness was not limited to his work. He was always planning and executing trips with friends and working on his kids’ houses. Smethurst is a plumber by trade and recounts, “He’d be ringing me, picking my brain for how to do things when doing up bathrooms, or ringing somebody else with other skills, as he liked to do it himself, but he wanted to make sure it was done correctly.”
Wallie and his beloved wife, Jenny (who he was so very devoted to), had three sons who are all married with children, and he built three cubby houses at each of their houses. Naturally, these were not bits of timber just slapped together with a nail gun. “They are pieces of art. Just beautiful,” says Smethurst. “Each has a flagpole with a North Melbourne Football Club flag, and I think these were ex-Pacer masts from Jim French.”
“As always, he’d be on the phone asking where he might get a few sheets of corrugated iron for the roof, for example, but he spent time with his friends at their factories or farms learning away. He’d chip in too, like doing a lot of splicing for Jim, which was something he was really good at. Every opportunity was a chance to expand his knowledge. One time he wanted to come and see a house that I was working on, so I asked the owner who kindly obliged, and Wallie endeared himself so much that he came back to see it again once completed. That’s just who he was.”
If Wallie believed in you he would twist himself into a pretzel to get something done for you, even if his own dance card was already chockers. You just had to admire him and of course, respond in kind when you could. He never asked for reciprocation, but you’d have a cracking good time doing whatever it was, and he just never stopped. I reckon he put the Energizer Bunny to shame.
Smethurst added, “He was very loyal to his close friends. Every year in the middle of February a group of up to ten of us would go to the Murray River and do another section in little boats. Wallie made it all happen and had all the homework, planning and logistics totally sorted – food, ice, locks on the river – all done and dusted. He also made our overseas exploits happen and got a cat trip to Ningaloo Reef organised when COVID kept us at home.”
“Whether it was helping people move house, or swifting them away when medical issues struck, and recovery was needed, Wallie was there. He’d organise a plan and make it happen.”
“When he wasn’t well he did try to keep it from us, as he’d never like to think it would detract from the trip. Eventually he’ get a second wind and perk back up, and being busy definitely helped him to not contemplate his own situation. He kept on planning and taking trips in between treatment, and with the last one he was even going to fly back in the middle and then return. He was the epitome of never stopping, never letting something get in the way. We all loved him for that.”
After his passing, the midweek beer gathering that had started as a way to uplift him after treatment was a bit different. Only because everyone who had ever been to one of these sessions all came at the same time. This too was an expression of the regard in which he was held.
Reflecting on his interest in people, Smethurst commented, “He could be anywhere, like overseas, in a taxi he’d be in the front and we would sit in the back seat, and we’d know he’d have the driver’s life story by the time we got out of the cab. He wanted to know what made them tick.” No doubt this also helped to keep him going, and ensured his youthful demeanour never waned.
Wallie taught a lot of people how to sail, but I think he taught all of us how to live life to its fullest, and the appreciation for that is in the way you smile when you think of him. ‘It’s all part of the adventure’ he liked to say, and he’d crack on no matter what. Wallie was the person who knew everyone from Geelong right around Port Phillip to Portsea and down to Gippsland and then inland to every lake and river that ever had a yacht on it. So, cheers pal from everyone who knew you. You were the man.