Paul Salmon (Oates 1968-1973)

PAUL SALMON
(28 May 1955 – 21 January 2020)

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Those who remember Paul from Falcon (1968 – 1973) would not recognise the man he became.

At school, as I remember him, Paul was more interested in smoking, doing the minimal amount of studying, and skiving cross-countries. No doubt so that our concerned parents could watch over the potentially errant young lad, Paul stayed at home for Lower 6th form (at Chaplin). They must have given up, realising (probably hoping, rather, under DET’s command) that boarding school was a better bet after all, and Paul returned to Falcon for Upper 6th.

It wasn’t all bad, but Paul certainly put aside any plans to excel until later. And excel he did. Not long after leaving Zimbabwe, and arriving in Durban, Paul discarded his pipe, shaved off his beard and took to marathons and triathlons. Strong in the water, and stronger on the bike, it wasn’t long before he was competing with the Natal squad of triathletes. His first Comrades was in 1985, and ten years later – with a silver medal along the way – he had his green number; and several 100 milers and triathlons under the belt as well.

Paul arrived in South Africa as a qualified doctor. In Durban he specialised in radiology and qualified. By that time, his first marriage (to Catherine Elizabeth, née Jennings; they married while still in then Salisbury – Malcolm Hayes being their best man) had come to an end. In 1988 Paul remarried (a Durban girl – and this is not a typo, gents – Catherine Elizabeth, née Young) and after a while they emigrated – first to New Zealand, and then on to Western Australia.

Paul’s somewhat diverse talents surfaced once he had settled there. He continued to cycle, and formed a strong group of hard-core types who would think nothing of 100km rides before starting the day’s work. Even breaking a bone in his neck after going over the bars at race pace didn’t deter Paul – he was soon back in the saddle. Swimming across the King George Sound in Albany, where Paul lived for the better part of the last fifteen years, didn’t seem too much of an effort either.

But it was not only these cardio sports which Paul mastered. He knew wine as well as any aficionado, and had an enviable collection stored, properly cooled, in a dedicated room. He was a coffee connoisseur – to the point of irritation, as only a coffee snob can be. Where he got it from eludes (and they eluded) me, but he had the hawk-like ability to concentrate on something, and the patience of Job to go with. This is probably why, although he had played bridge from young, with his partner they made it to the finals of the Western Australia Bridge championships, I think on more than one occasion. And as does a master of his trade, Paul really knew the game on a deeper level.

But, apart from being on holiday with his family, there were two (other) territories where Paul was his happiest. First, he was mad about golf – his favourite holiday was a golfing school week somewhere around the country or world. And the passion paid off; for as long as I can remember he played to a single figure handicap. And, same again – he knew the game: I was amazed at his understanding of the rules, the equipment, the players, the techniques, and all the finer subtleties.

Yet nowhere were these attributes more prevalent, perhaps, than in his carpentry shed; well, hardly a shed, it was a huge and expensively equipped room, actually. Paul did not just recondition old side-tables. He designed and crafted all sorts of things, big and small, and he did so beautifully. He knew the art, he knew the woods, their grains, attributes and qualities, he knew the right tools for whatever task, and he had the craft-skills to go with. For my 40th he presented me with an acoustic steel string guitar which he handmade from scratch, even down to the purfling, the rosette, cutting the frets, and the inlays. He used rare Australian desert hardwoods, and named it “Mbira 1”. I own several, and have played many more – its tone and harmonic qualities are by far the best of any guitar I have ever played.

By the time Paul was diagnosed with cancer, on a golfing tour in Italy in May 2019, he had built (and just sold) Great Southern Radiology, a massive radiology practice in Albany with two premises, one serving private patients and one serving the Government Hospital, itself a modern institution of note. This success was not by dint of some geographically denominated fortune, but the result of many years of damn hard work, and is reflected in the official acknowledgement and award from the Western Australia Government for his radiology services to the community.

One might get the idea – with some justification, I guess – that Paul lived a very full life. Yes, he probably worked too hard, and his hobbies and interests were much of the loner type. Yet, in it all, Paul made time (and more) to be with his family, to have undiluted special time with them, and to do his utmost for their well-being. Undoubtedly, amongst many, they were his greatest love.

Social disparity, prejudice and discrimination bothered him for many years before his death. This bore out in his generosity to friends, family, to charity and to his Church. And in another way: six short months before the onset of his disease, Paul and I chatted about retirement, and he told me of his desire in due course to appropriate his medical skill-set in charitable service of the less fortunate sectors of society. He never got to realise this ambition. Within six short months of the diagnosis of diffuse large B cell lymphoma, Paul passed away.

I suspect he knew his fate, and it was his style to keep it to himself. ‘Fate’ is not the correct descriptor, actually. For the last several years of his life, Paul was a devout Christian believer – and his death held absolutely no fear for him at all.

Paul is survived by his wife Cathy; his children from his first marriage: Renee (a Mom of two youngsters, also running a Guest House in Albany) and Guy (a Dad of two youngsters, also an installation plumber in London); and his children from his second marriage: Nicholas (a patent attorney in Sydney), Michael (a doctor in Perth) and Megan (a qualified teacher now in her final year of an ER paramedic degree in Perth). Paul is also survived by his brothers Andrew (Oates ’72 – ’77) and me (Oates ’70 – ’75). We settled our sibling rivalry a long time ago, but I am very pissed off with him.

Owen Salmon

Oates, 1970-1975

Midrand, South Africa