The early days, 1954-59: Gaining entrance to Cambridge

by Nimal Wikramanayake

Should I Write my Memoir? Like Winnie the Pooh, I thought a thought. Should I write my memoir and tell the world about the difficulties a brown-skinned man from an Asian country had to undergo in the legal profession in Melbourne? I abhor the use of the word “coloured”, for that would make my white Australian friends colourless. Would people be interested in what I had to undergo? Would they empathize with my annoyance, frustration and anger?

But as Tattersall’s declares when it sells its lottery tickets: “You’ve got to be in it to win it” I thought that unless I wrote this work and had it published, I would never know whether people would be interested in it or not. There have been many occasions when I have been angry with the way I have been discriminated against in Australia.

There have been many occasions when I have been frustrated at the way I have been treated in the legal profession as a whole. There have been many occasions when I have felt that a large mountain had been placed in my path. Like Sisyphus of Greek mythology, I have tried to push my rock up the mountain and on some occasions I have managed to clamber up over the top. But on these occasions, I have been pushed back down the mountainside, clutching my rock. I have tried as far as is humanly possible to keep bitterness out of this work. So without further ado, here is my story.

When I commenced writing this work I was in a quandary as to whether I should name the miscreants who did me much despite, as they say in the classics, but after discussing this matter with my friends I decided that I would not descend to their level. Therefore, save for the racists I refer to later in this work, they will remain nameless.

Coincidences

In 1983, my wife, Anna Maria, and I made one of our rare visits to the cinema to see the film Chariots of Fire. The film was about the exploits of the 1924 British team at the Olympic Games in Paris. One of the heroes of the film was Harold Abrahams, the son of a Jewish merchant, who had the temerity, as a Jew, to go to Cambridge University to study law and later became a member of the celebrated 1924 British Olympic team.

There were a number of coincidences between Abrahams’ life and mine, except that I was not a celebrated athlete. The first coincidence took place when, in the film, young Harold Abrahams was being dropped off at his college, Gonville & Caius (pronounced Keys), Cambridge University, on, I believe, Trumpington Street, but as Trumpington Street was too narrow to permit adequate filming, the beginning of the film commenced at Trinity Hall, the college where I studied law over 30 years later. Trinity Hall was situated behind Gonville & Caius at the bottom of Garret Hostel Lane.

The second coincidence took place when Abrahams met with racial discrimination at Cambridge and, on one occasion, frustrated and angry, he remarked to a friend of his that “the Anglo-Saxons would let me walk up to the trough but would not let me drink from it” For my part, I am fascinated by the use of the delightful word “Anglo-Saxon” The person who created this definition should be given a gold medal. It has a beautiful sound and is as dead as the races it depicts.

The Angles were an ancient race in England – long dead. The Saxons suffered the same fate under William the Conqueror. Abrahams added, “I will teach these people a lesson. I will run them off their feet.” I met with racial discrimination in Melbourne but I could not run the perpetrators of this discrimination off their feet, either literally or metaphorically.

I found this statement of Abrahams quite interesting for, at that time, Sir Rufus Isaacs KC, a member of the Jewish tribe, had been one of the leading lawyers of the English Bar. A few years earlier, he was a great rival of Sir Edward Carson and FE Smith, later Lord Birkenhead. Sir Rufus Isaacs, later Lord Reading, was Viceroy of India from 1921 to 1926 when Abrahams went to Cambridge.

I suffered no racial discrimination at Cambridge, and I often wondered whether, if I had migrated to England rather than to Australia, I would have received greater recognition in England than in Australia, being an Oxbridge man.

Apart from several incidents of racism in the courts and at the Victorian Bar, I must confess that I was accepted by some members of the Victorian Bar quite warmly. I will set out the incidents of racism later on when I recount my experiences at the Victorian Bar and in the Law Courts. However, just as Abrahams pointed out, for my part, in the legal profession in Melbourne, the powers that be had led me to the trough many times, but had not permitted me to drink from it.

Neither my dear friend and mentor, the late Louis Voumard QC, nor I were ever considered fit to be appointed to the Supreme Court in Victoria, although we were outstanding barristers, because we did not have the proper social and political connections. Many others far less able were elevated to that high office because they had the right connections.

When I finished writing this work, I gave it to my dear friend Ross Howie SC to review it. He reminded me of the sign that appeared on Olde English Inns -“Good wine needs no bush” He said that it was for others to talk about my ability.Nonetheless, I would like to tell you about some of the things I feel most proud of in my life.

In 1996, I published my work Voumard: The Sale of Land as a supplemental book and sent a complimentary copy to Mr Douglas Grahame QC, the Solicitor-General for the State of Victoria. I received a warm letter from him in which he stated that the Victorian legal profession owed me a debt of gratitude, not only for writing this work but for doing so to the same high standard maintained by the late Louis Voumard QC.

In 1999, I wrote Conveyancing Manual Victoria with Dan Fitzgerald, and asked Mr Justice Robert Brooking, one of the great commercial judges in the Supreme Court of Victoria, whether he would honour me by writing a preface for this work. His Honour agreed, and not only did he write a preface for this work but gave high praise of my knowledge of property law.

In 2008, Mr Justice Peter Young, the Chief Judge of the Court of Equity in New South Wales, and a few years later a member of the Court of Appeal in New South Wales, caused a survey to be made of the top twenty legal books written in Australia, and had this survey published in the Australian Law Journal in July 2008. His Honour included my work Voumard: The Sale of Land in this list. It must be noted that none of the other works on property law were included in this list, although the authors of these works received judicial appointments.

In 2011, 1 was invited by the Chief Justice of Fiji to sit on the Court of Appeal in Fiji. A few years earlier, three distinguished Australian lawyers sat on the same court: Mark Weinberg QC, later Mr Justice Weinberg of the Court of Appeal in Victoria, Mr Justice Handley of the Court of Appeal in New South Wales, and Mr Justice Mason, a justice of the Court of Appeal in New South Wales. Although I run the risk of repetition, I need only add that a number of writers of minor works on property law have all received judicial appointments.

I must state categorically that I am neither angry nor bitter about this, for I have learned to accept the fact there are certain things in life that cannot be changed. In Melbourne, at least, the legal profession and Victorian legal powers that be are still not colour-blind, for they will not recognize the fact that an Asian man or woman has any talent or ability. In Australia, things are upside down. In England I am a WOG – a Worthy Oriental Gentleman -which is not a term of approbation but a patronizing reference to people from the Indian sub-continent. In Australia, this word is used with reference to southern Europeans.

Here, people from China and the Far East, in deference to their American cousins, are called Asians although they come from the Far East and not from Asia. Columbus set off to look for the spice trade in Asia – India and Sri Lanka – not China and Vietnam. The Portuguese found these Asian lands in 1506 when Vasco de Gama sailed around the Cape of Good Hope and arrived on the west coast of India. China and Vietnam are in the Far East.

And by the way, another coincidence with Harold Abrahams was the fact that a relation of his, Sir Sidney Abrahams, was Chief justice of Ceylon from 1937 to 1939. The British government did not believe that a Sri Lankan was capable of holding such a high office and never appointed a Sri Lankan as Chief justice of the Island of Ceylon.The fourth coincidence was an Australian connection that was thrown into this strange mix.

In 1936, a young Australian by the name of Mark Anthony Lyster Bracegirdle arrived in Ceylon to work on a tea plantation and learn the trade of a tea planter. He went to the Relugas Estate in Madulkelle near Matale in Ceylon and began his life in Ceylon on that estate.

He was appalled at the inhumane conditions of the Indian Tamil labourers and collaborated with the LSSP (Lanka Sama Samaja Party), the Trotskyite Party in Ceylon (popularly known as the Fox Trotskyite party), to organize protest meetings against this inhumane treatment. These Indian Tamils were indentured labourers who were brought by the British from South India in the middle of the nineteenth century to labour on their plantations in Ceylon, as the Sinhalese refused to work on them.

The slave trade had recently been abolished in England as a result of the exertions of Wilberforce, and the British needed alternative cheap labour. These labourers had to walk from South India, then cross the Palk Strait to get to north-western Ceylon, and then walk several hundred miles from the north of the Island to the tea plantations in the hill country. During these marches, many thousands died along the way. The British took these South Indian ‘coolies’ to labour in Fiji, the West Indies and South Africa, and except in Sri Lanka, where they are still coolies, these labourers are now an integral part of the higher echelons of society in these countries.

The word “coolie” is what the British called them. The West Indies has produced some great cricketers from the descendants of these indentured labourers with the likes of Alvin Kallicharran, Rohan Kanhai, Shivnarine Chanderpaul, among others. They also have risen to social prominence in Fiji, South Africa and the West Indies.

When I returned to Ceylon in 1958, my father and two of his friends owned a 900-acre tea plantation in Maskeliya called “Theberton Estate.” Maskeliya is 3,000 feet above sea level and has a cool temperate climate somewhat akin to Melbourne in May. In 1963, the Indian Tamil labourers on the estate struck for better living conditions. I was briefed to go up to Maskeliya to appear in a mediation in an attempt to settle this industrial dispute. I visited the “lines”, the living quarters of the estate workers, and was appalled at their living conditions. They were living in corrugated iron sheds, with many families to a shed.

There were no beds for them and they slept on the cold cement floor with no blankets or sheets. The families were separated from each other by wooden partitions which offered no privacy at all. There was no heating and no hot water. There were a few taps of cold water and a few latrines in each shed.

I was intent on improving their working conditions and made a number of concessions at the mediation but, to my surprise, my concessions were rejected by the directors, including my father. One of the other owners, who was a senior lawyer, appeared at the next mediation and rejected my recommendations. The strike was broken and no change was made in the living conditions of the workers.

To return to my story, the British inhabitants of Ceylon were furious that their standing in the country was being damaged by a fellow “white man”. They prevailed upon the British Colonial Governor, Sir Reginald Stubbs, to have Bracegirdle deported. He agreed and signed the deportation order on April 22, 1937, giving Bracegirdle 48 hours to leave the island on the SS Mooltan. The LSSP hid Bracegirdle from the police, but he was located and arrested a short time later. A Writ of Habeas Corpus was served on the Colonial government by Bracegirdle’s lawyers.

The case came up for hearing before the Chief Justice, Sir Sidney Abrahams, and two Burgher judges of Dutch descent, whose ancestors had migrated to Ceylon from Holland many years before. One of the Dutch Burgher judges was Mr Justice Maartensz. Ceylon’s leading lawyer. H V Perera KC, who was instrumental in shaping the law in Ceylon for nigh on 50 years, was briefed to appear for Bracegirdle.

Mr Perera was Ceylon’s equivalent of Sir Owen Dixon in Australia. He opened his case by informing the judges that Bracegirdle had renounced his Australian citizenship and if he was deported by the Colonial government, he would have no country to go to and would have to roam the world as a stateless person.Hearing this statement, Mr Justice Maartensz piped up, “What you are saying, Mr Perera, is that he will be like the wandering Jew.”

Quick as a flash, Sir Sidney Abrahams came back with the retort: “Or the flying Dutchman’

The court ordered Bracegirdle’s release, holding that there was no merit in the deportation order. In 1938 he left Ceylon to live out his days in England. After the war, Bracegirdle qualified as an engineer and settled in Gloucestershire. He died on June 2, 1999. The case is reported in (1937) 39 New Law Report at 193.

Sir Sidney Abrahams returned to England in 1939. Although I run the risk of repetition, in colonial Ceylon the Chief Justice was always an Englishman, because the Colonial government believed that the natives weren’t competent enough to hold such a high appointment.

The beginning

My tale is a long one and, as Maria said in The Sound of Music, “Let’s start at the very beginning”. Let me go back to the month of August 1954 when I was 21-years old and was letting life slip through my fingers. I was not interested in studying and spent my evenings at the Sinhalese Sports Club running up expensive club liquor bills which, surprisingly, my father paid.

About this time, my father met a friend of his, Sir Ivor Jennings, who had been the Vice Chancellor of the University of Ceylon and who had recently been appointed Master of Trinity Hall, Cambridge. Sir Ivor promised Dad that if I passed my GCE A Level and the Trinity Hall entrance examination, he would give me a place at Trinity Hall.

This was well-nigh impossible for someone like me who had not, at the age of 21, passed the GCE A Level which was a two-year course. I then had to to sit for a place at Trinity Hall, the most exclusive college in Cambridge, and compete with more than 300 of the best students in England for one place in a 100. Trinity Hall had only 300 students for the three years of its graduate courses, compared to Kings College and Trinity College which had more than 1,500 students in each College.

We arrived in England in September and I enrolled at the University Tutorial College in London to prepare for the GCE A Level. The exam was at the end of November; I had just over two months to prepare for it. Two of the subjects were completely new – Economics and Economic History. It was then that a miracle happened. When I enrolled at the college, I was assigned a tutor. We hit it off straight away. He was a former Polish fighter pilot who had flown Spitfire planes during the World War II, a Mr Matuczeski. Not since my kindergarten days had I met a teacher who was interested in my welfare and been kind to me. I looked forward to my twice weekly tutorials with him, and with his guidance, I passed the examination in December.

My next hurdle was in February 1955: the Trinity Hall entrance examination. My first paper on General Knowledge was a complete failure, or so I thought. I had to answer five questions and I spent nearly two hours on one question, writing a long dissertation on one of my heroes Salah al-Din or Saladin as he was known to the Occidentals. I went into raptures about this magnificent Seldjuk Turk leader. It was only later that I learned that the professors were astonished that a young Sinhalese boy from the East knew so much about Saladin.

Next I had to go for a viva voce examination. It was held by a distinguished gentleman who sat at a desk taking notes. On the side of the table sat a jolly old gentleman. I was laughing and chatting with the old man and very obsequious towards the gentleman at the desk. It was only later I learned that the jolly old man was the great Tell Ellis-Lewis, the editor of Winfield on Tort, and the distiguished gentleman seated at the desk was his assistant. Anyway, I passed the entrance examination and got my place at Trinity Hall.

(To be continued)