Shunt

by Tom Rubython

  Years later, amateur psychologists would cite this as a reason for Hunt’s strange character.

  Chris Witty, a former journalist and sponsorship agent, who often visited the family home in Belmont, says: “I didn’t see a lot of – how can I put it? – tactile love there in that respect. It was the way families were brought up. And that’s not a criticism; just the way it was.”

  This was also reflected in Hunt’s relationship with his siblings. He was naturally closest to the siblings nearest him in age: Sally and Peter. But as James grew up, he matured and adopted a parental attitude towards the three younger ones.

  As he grew older and as school beckoned, another problem loomed. He absolutely hated school. Both his parents were mystified when James treated the beginning of every school term, as they described it, as “a full-fledged catastrophe.” There is no other way to say it than he simply loathed school, and the thought of returning to school after a blissful holiday repulsed him.

  His first introduction to formal education came on his fifth birthday, when Sue enrolled him in nursery class. He attended the nursery section of Ambleside, a pre-prep school in Cheam. Sue had attended the school herself and Sally Hunt was also enrolled there.

  Sue remembers James becoming very agitated when he arrived at the school gates. She recalls how, every morning, he would get dressed in his uniform and happily walk to school with her. But as soon as they arrived at the gates, he would start a tantrum. Many times, his sister had to be summoned from class to comfort him.

  According to his mother, the young James detested the confinement for the day, hated the rules and the conformity. He was also uncomfortable with the other children, and carried on his defiance of authority in the classroom.

  Thinking it might be the school itself that was troubling him, James’ parents placed him in Northlace Prep School, in nearby Sutton. Northlace was less academic and more focused on sports. Even then, at such an early age, it was clear that God had endowed James Hunt with great talent in three areas: running, racket sports and driving. His lean physique had much to do with it. He matched his father Wallis, who was also highly athletic. In fact, his physique had been inherited from both his parents, both of whom were tall with hunched shoulders. From the age of six, he was constantly playing racquet sports. Such sports undoubtedly overdeveloped the muscles in his upper body, which became elongated and contorted. It was this ability to contort his body that would later, and repeatedly, save his life in a racing car, as he was able to thrust his body out of harm’s way down into the chassis.

  Somehow, he got through his two years at Northlace, by which time he was nearly eight and old enough to be sent away to boarding school for the first time.

  CHAPTER 3

  The perfect parents 1942

  No greater love

  Wallis Hunt was the eldest of four children, born to a headmaster in Sussex in 1923. His father had waited to start a family and was already 54 when his son was born. By the time Wallis went to Wellington College, at the age of 13, his father was 67. Wallis continued the long tradition of male Hunts attending Wellington College.

  Wallis excelled at Wellington and was a very bright pupil, good with numbers. He was also good at sports. So it was no surprise when he won a scholarship to attend Jesus College, Oxford, in 1940. But that privilege was denied to him when the Second World War intervened, and, in 1941, at the age of 19, he joined the army instead, as a private soldier ready to fight for his country.

  However, Wallis was quickly singled out as officer material and enrolled at Sandhurst in 1942. A year later, he was commissioned as a lieutenant into the 11th Hussars, an armoured car unit.

  Then, shortly afterwards, romance intervened and Wallis met the woman who would become his wife and lifelong partner.

  Wallis and Sue met on a blind date on 5th November 1942. He was 20 and she was 17. A mutual friend, doing some wartime matchmaking, had arranged for them to meet in London at exit five of Piccadilly underground rail station. It was tremendously exciting for both of them, and neither was disappointed when their eyes met for the first time by the polished brickwork of Piccadilly station.

  Sue Hunt was a classic beauty of her age and already, at 17, irresistible to most men. She also possessed an unparalleled charm that immediately put Wallis at ease. Equally, he too was quite a catch: tall, blonde and very handsome. Within five minutes, it felt as though they had known each other all their lives. By all accounts, Wallis was startled by Sue’s warmth and overwhelming charm. Equally, she couldn’t quite believe her luck that a blind date could turn out to be such a handsome army officer, and a hussar at that. It was the start of a remarkable union, and an even more remarkable family would emerge from it.

  Sue came from a well-to-do family and had lived in Surrey all her life. She held traditional views, admired consistency in a man and had a strong sense of history. She had been privately educated, and Wallis was effectively the first man she seriously dated. Feeling tremendously blessed to have met someone so perfect so quickly, her thoughts turned immediately to marriage.

  On their second date, Wallis took Sue to the ballet – quite an experience in war-ravaged London. If it wasn’t love at first sight, it was certainly love after that magical evening. For both of them, there was never to be anyone else again.

  They became fixated by the fifth of the month: having met on the fifth, they became engaged on the fifth, and married on the fifth. It was precisely two months after they met, on 5th January 1943, that they announced their engagement. And three months after that, on the 5th April 1943, they were married – some five months after they had first set eyes on each other. From that moment on, anything significant in their lives they planned for the fifth of the month. It served them well for 57 years.

  In normal circumstances, the courtship might not have progressed so quickly, but both of them knew the opportunity might not come again. Lieutenant Hunt was a front line officer who went into battle leading his troops. His chances of surviving the war were little better than 50-50. Sue knew that, and the couple lived their lives accordingly. Every time they said ‘goodbye’, both knew it might be for the last time.

  So marriage was no bed of roses and, immediately after the ceremony, Wallis went back to his army post while Sue joined the wrens and worked as an electrical engineer maintaining aircraft radios.

  Meanwhile, Wallis prepared for the invasion of France.

  After the D-Day breakout in early July 1944, the allies rushed across France in a bid to end the war by Christmas. However, as the Germans eventually regrouped, aided by the discord between British commander General Montgomery and American General George Patton, the allies met fiercer resistance and became bogged down. The Germans fought hard for each and every inch of ground, as French villages along the path were turned into armed fortresses.

  In August 1944, Wallis’ armoured car unit was attacking just such an occupied French village. The village, which was surrounded and bristling with German howitzers, was in no mood to surrender quietly. General Rommel, who was in overall charge of the defence of France, had ordered every village commander to fight to the last man. Meanwhile, Montgomery was anxious to beat Patton to Berlin, and was in a hurry. Montgomery, with little regard for likely causalities, ordered his British forces to attack aggressively. And the result was predictable. The fierce attacks and equally fierce defence meant only one thing: very high casualties.

  Lieutenant Hunt was leading the attack on the village when his armoured vehicle was hit by a shell fired from a German howitzer. It was a direct hit on the vehicle but, somehow, Wallis was thrown clear of the burning car, which was completely destroyed. The other two occupants were not so lucky and were killed outright.

  That Wallis survived was a miracle; he had been blown out of a hole in the car caused by the blast. The German shell had literally opened up the vehicle and, as air had rushed in, he had been ejected. No one who was there could quite understand how he had survived.

  As it
was, he was critically injured and covered in shrapnel, which had pierced his body. Half of his hand was missing. But luckily, British army medics quickly found him and stemmed the blood loss. They immediately shipped him behind the lines to a field hospital, where the nursing care was second to none. The allies had taken the time to set up excellent supply lines after D-Day, and the field medical facilities were the best of their day. There was also an excellent system for shipping home the wounded. As an officer, Wallis was given priority and was quickly sent back to a military hospital in England. As soon as she learned what happened, Sue rushed to his side, thankful her husband was still alive.

  After eight months, Wallis made a full recovery. During the period of convalescence, he saw Sue almost every day and they conceived their first child, Sally. He rejoined his regiment in 1945, just in time for the end of the war. But his injuries meant he was assigned a headquarters desk job and appointed adjutant to the regiment’s commander, General Robertson. He stayed with the general for the duration. His job was fascinating, as the British and American armies sought to make sense of post-war Germany. As the rebuilding process began, he was right in the thick of it and learned many lessons that were to serve him well in later life.

  On one of his rare leaves, he and Sue were told she was expecting again. And James was born in a Sutton nursing home on 29th August 1947.

  After he was de-mobbed at the end of 1947, Wallis joined an import-export trading company and worked in both South and North America for more than 20 years. Just as she had been during the war, Sue was often left alone with their growing family, but Wallis’ job paid extremely well and some of his income was tax free due to his time out of the country. Wallis was determined that his children had the best education that money could buy. For his four boys, that meant enrolment at Wellington College. At one point, Wallis spent almost two-thirds of his income on school fees. But it was his mission in life, and nothing had a greater priority.

  When his eldest son turned 15, and with his family extended to six children, Wallis purchased the main family home in Belmont for approximately UK£65,000. It was a grand, sprawling house, standing in an acre of ground in the most affluent area of Surrey and adjacent to a golf course. Built in the post-Victorian era, it was approached by its own private road. It had seven bedrooms, enough for each child to have their own, and enough garages for their sons to indulge their hobbies. The reception rooms were decorated by Sue in a restrained fashion, perfectly suited to the character of the house’s new owners. Sue also took charge of the gardens, which in summer bloomed as perfectly as any in a neighbourhood full of proud gardeners. Tony Dron remembers it fondly: “It was just a big, busy house with everyone getting on with it and being happy. James’ mother was a serious, decent woman with very high energy levels.”

  As soon as her youngest, Georgina, was no longer dependent on her, Sue Hunt threw herself into charity and voluntary work. With the strains of bringing up six young children suddenly behind her, she needed somewhere to channel her enormous energy. The community embraced her, and she embraced it. She was appointed a magistrate and did voluntary work in a local hospital. She also chaired a committee to look after unmarried mothers and took the post of a local school governor. She got involved with every community charity she could and suddenly found, at the age of 50, that she was enjoying life again. It was 20 years of nonstop activity.

  When he turned 50, Wallis returned home and joined a stockbroking firm called Hedderwick, Stirling, Grumbar & Co. where he eventually rose through the ranks to become a partner and chairman. He became a respected member of the city of London community, joining Cripplegate and, in 1962, becoming a member of the Court of Common Council. He remained a member of the Court and crowned his service by becoming the Chief Commoner in 1975. He remained a member and most loyal supporter of the Club even after leaving London, and finally resigned due to ill health in 1999. During that period, he was also chairman of the City Police Committee, the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, the Association of British Orchestras and the London Oriana Choir.

  The job entailed a commute into London every day and a return to Belmont every night. The routine allowed Sue to enjoy a regular family life with her husband for the first time since they were married.

  Wallis also kept fit and ran long distances well into his early sixties. He particularly enjoyed running with his eldest son and, as Peter Hunt remembers: “He played sport into his fifties, running the first of three full marathons when he was 62.” Given that one of his knees was locked into position, a legacy from his war wounds, it was an extraordinary achievement.

  But in 1981, Wallis suffered a personal financial disaster. At Hedderwick, Stirling, Grumbar & Co., he had risen to partner and then chairman of the board of directors. But the firm was not a limited company; it was a partnership, which meant all the partners were liable for all debts – even down to the window cleaning bill. While that was the downside of the partnership, the upside was that they also shared all the profits. And every year, there were huge profits; profits that had enabled Wallis and Sue to buy their house in Belmont, which, if valued today, would be worth in the region of UK£3 million to UK£4 million.

  The 1981 disaster was preceded by elation as Wallis was appointed chairman of the firm. His elevation coincided almost exactly with his downfall.

  It was a fairly ordinary day at the office when stock exchange investigators suddenly descended on the firm and started removing files. Word quickly spread around the city about the raid.

  When the news got out, a director from the National Westminster Bank rang Wallis and told him that the bank was cancelling the firm’s overdraft facility and bouncing UK£3 million worth of cheques and payments going through the account that day.

  It turned out that stock exchange investigators, examining an unrelated matter, had learned of a fraud perpetrated by an employee at the firm, but of which the partners were unaware. Once the bank had been alerted, it lost confidence in the firm and decided to take precipitative action. When the stock exchange learned of the bounced payments, the firm was ‘hammered’ and lost its seat on the exchange. It was all about confidence that suddenly had been lost.

  Undoubtedly, the fact that everybody – from the stock exchange to the bank – panicked was what caused the rupture. It was the last ever stockbroking firm to be hammered by the stock exchange, and, afterwards, valuable lessons were learned on how to handle fraud by employees. Today, such situations are dealt with behind closed doors, and solutions are announced before the problem, enabling confidence to be maintained and troubled smaller firms almost always to be absorbed by larger firms. But there was no such understanding in those days.

  There was nothing wrong with Hedderwick, it was a very well run organisation and certainly wasn’t insolvent. But it relied on confidence to trade, and, when that went, it had to close its doors immediately. If it had been a limited company or a limited liability partnership (LLP), which didn’t exist in those days, the partners would not have been liable. Wallis and his partners had no choice but to buckle down and sort out the situation and collect and settle debts. There was no question of calling in a receiver.

  Suddenly, Wallis had no income and was getting demands for cash every day. It was a nightmare for the 58-year-old, at a period when he was thinking only of retirement. Undoubtedly, Wallis and Sue would have lost their house and been reduced to penury had not their eldest son come to the rescue. No one besides James and Wallis knew the details of the arrangement and, certainly, no one has ever spoken of it. However, those who were aware of the situation at the time say that James Hunt lent his father a sum not far from UK£500,000 to tide him over.

  Barring his war injuries, it was the worst experience of Wallis Hunt’s life and deeply humbling for a proud man like him to have to go to his son for money.

  But he was made of sterner stuff than most, and he and his partners refused to give up. The inescapable fact was that the firm was solvent when it had been cl
osed down. Wallis and his partners worked hard to rescue the firm and eventually to restore its solvency. It is believed that his son’s loan was repaid in full relatively quickly. Tony Dron is full of admiration for how Hunt helped his father: “No one knew, but I was vaguely aware that James was in a position to help out his father.”

  Peter Hunt remembers the recovery proudly: “Sadly, his career ended on a less than happy note when the stockbroking firm he was running was brought down, through no fault of his, by fraud. Typically, Wallis toughed it out and was instrumental in ensuring that all the creditors of the firm were paid in full.”

  But Wallis’ heart had gone out of the stockbroking business, and he took up salaried work at an accountancy firm until he retired. Peter says: “Although he never complained, there is no question that this chapter of his life had a big impact on him. He did not work in the city again.”

  By the time he was 73 and Sue was turning 70, Wallis decided to retire and move to Wiltshire. In order to make a clean break, they decided to sell the family home in Belmont. Wallis’ sense of timing proved to be brilliant; he sold his house in Belmont at the very top of the property market and bought in Wiltshire as the market was starting to decline. He was a much bigger fish in the smaller county of Wiltshire than he had been in Surrey, and quickly became one of that county’s great and good.

  In retirement, he served as governor of Wellington College and chaired the Old Wellingtonians Society and presided over the deanery of his church synod. He also worked tirelessly for charity.

  Peter Hunt remembers: “Retirement is a bit of a misnomer because they both found umpteen things to keep themselves out of mischief.”