My heart is very heavy. Today I buried a dear friend of nearly 30 years who was one of the great influences in my life. Wilton Beresford Smith was born October 3rd 1911 in Sleima, Malta, after a brief stay in India the family moved to England in 1916. After finishing his education he qualified as a Chartered Engineer and started up in business with a friend.
With the arrival of the war Wilton was called up, not into military service, but a civil one. As a specialist in electrical and relay engineering with expertise in wireless operations he was on the restricted list of reserved operations. He spent the war travelling around Britain as a leading Government Inspector of Radar equiptment. As many of the installations he worked at were secret and all the material and matters relating to the inspections were classified, I often used to joke with him that he had spent the war as a secret agent. This joke always made him smile. He once told me that he used to spend hours watching the dogfights above his house in Croydon during the Battle of Britain. The early part of the war was both a sad time and a happy time for Wilton, his Father died in 1940 and he met and married his bride Zoe.
After the war Wilton was offered a government post but instead chose to go into the private sector. He joined Rediffusion as a section head working in their research division. During his time there he was sent to service the Television at Buckingham Palace where he was watched by a young Prince Charles who took a great interest in Wiltons work. He remained at Rediffusion until his retirement in 1977 aged 66.
Prior to Wiltons retirement his wife Zoe contracted a rare and virulent form of cancer and passed away which affected Wilton deeply. He found comfort in the charitable works that he did in the background. After Zoes death he devoted the majority of his energy to his charitable works and to the charitable order of which he was a very active member.
It was through his charitable works that I met Wilton, in the early to mid 70's Wilton ran a football team for under privaleged children. As you mat be able to surmise from my previous column entry I was one of those under privaledged children. Wilton loved working with children and was able to give us a very positive role model that some of those children lacked at home. He was able to bring joy to many children that had few reasons to know joy. Through this football club I went from being under privaledged to being very privaledged indeed. I was privaledged to meet the kindess and most generous man I have ever known. Someone who truly derived joy from seeing others happy.
Wilton really took me under his wing, I think he saw something in me that few others saw. I was a very difficult child to say the least. I had a very unhappy childhood despite a very loving Father. By the time I met Wilton I was a volatile child with a violent temper and a foul mouth. I was often fighting and had to be removed from the football field on many occasions for fighting, often with members of my own team. Wilton never lost patience with me and responded to my outbursts with love and understanding instead of judgement and scorn. Over the years he took me on holidays, gave me music lessons and encouraged my hobbies. He treated my like an equal and yet allowed me to be a child. My Father taught me about strength and respect but Wilton taught me about kindness and humility. Wilton gave me the gift of a childhood, which is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me. I loved him like a Father and will miss him dearly.
Wilton retuned to Malta for his 90th Birthday. He was still very active and had a mind like a steel trap. He celebrated his 90th Birthday in the town of his birth Sleima. Two days later he went for a swin in the morning, had some lunch and then rested on a sun bed by the pool when he peacefully drifted away.
He was my friend. His presence was to me Like perfume from a cherry-blossom tree, His voice brought calm, - it soothed like tuneful chimes A-playing slowly, sacred peaceful rhymes.
He was my friend. His handclasp steadied me. His grasp drew me there where I longed to be. His thoughts entwined with mine in rendezvous Like mated stars in yonder peaceful blue.
He was my friend, a friend worth more than gold, More than the stores of fabled Croesus hold. He brought me faith, contentment, hope and cheer. When he was here, then too, God's love was near.
Walter H. Bonn
Frugal
A special thank you to Paul Fitzgerald for his help with this column piece.
