Fly away, Dick Foxton; your work is done

News24

a day ago

When someone passes away, there is a line that gets trotted out during tributes that it has largely lost meaning: 'He/she touched a lot of lives.'
Then there are those times when it actually means exactly that. And more. This was the case with Richard Foxton, more commonly known as Dick or by the fun nickname Foxy.
Foxton passed away at the weekend at the age of 82 after a life lived to the full. A veteran media man, he managed Newsweek's operations for nearly a decade during the early days of African independence. He shuttled between his beloved Nairobi and Johannesburg, the city he would later learn to love more than any other. Although born in India, he spent his formative youth years in Kenya, a period about which he had warm memories.
Moving to South Africa in 1971, he joined the famed Group Editors, a public relations firm made up of some of Johannesburg's newsroom veterans. It grew to be one of the country's most influential communications companies, boasting blue chip clients who wanted the brains and experience housed under that roof.
Ever the consummate networker, he was ready to branch off on his own by 1981 and launched Foxton Communicating. This lowly newspaperman often reminded him that the reason the business became so successful was that it was started in the year the great Tottenham Hotspur won the 100th edition of the FA Cup in a classic victory over Manchester City.
It was in this role as the founder and head of Foxton Communicating that Foxton's larger-than-life persona became legendary. The business model was innovative. He represented chairmen (yes, that's what they were called), CEOs and most of the deputy CEOs as well. The uniqueness of the model was that he would connect the company leadership directly to editors so that they could get a picture of the state of play first-hand.
Over long, liquid lunches, editors would also share their perspectives on how they saw the respective companies. At results time or when a crisis hit, a direct line had been established. Moreover, the editors had a better understanding of the headwinds and undercurrents affecting the business climate.
But there was an added benefit for the CEOs: they were interacting with individuals who had the pulse of the nation and could get insights that would be useful in their strategic planning and in future interactions with government policymakers and decision-makers.
Everybody was the winner: the editors and industry leaders got inside each other's heads and the facilitator obviously got his cheques. But, for Foxton, it was not just about a payday. He genuinely enjoyed connecting people and relished the conversations he was privy to, and he appreciated it even more when they were no longer dependent on him.
His connections extended to the political sphere, stretching to the highest offices in the land, where he proffered his services and advice on a pro bono basis. His generous pro bono work also extended to causes he believed in, touching the lives of many.
But it wasn't just his work that made Foxton the person who filled up the room with his personality; it was the gregarious, humorous raconteur in him that made him irresistible company. In a tribute to him in Business Day this week, the newspaper's former editor Peter Bruce fondly recalled that 'he was a fabulous name-dropper and he had really been around'.
And around he certainly had been. If you have lived the life that he lived, you can be given a free pass on that so nobody begrudged the stories, which were often on repeat and delivered with such panache. Many were serious stories, some were cautionary tales and several were hilarious takes.
The 'name-dropping' consisted of encounters with heads of state, ministers, sporting legends, religious leaders and corporate titans. Not many of us can regale others with stories from dinners, lunches or just audiences with figures as diverse as Nelson Mandela, Margaret Thatcher, Mother Teresa, FW de Klerk, George Matanzima, Harry Oppenheimer, Donald Bradman, Middle East royalty and global music stars.
There would be jokes galore, also often told on repeat. But each time they were told, it would be just as funny as the first time. The liquids would flow forever, with Foxton encouraging willing and reluctant participants to have another, another and yet another.
He colourfully encouraged his lunch partners to 'drink like monks at the end of Lent' or to 'drink like there's an army of bloodthirsty terrorists marching up the road'.
Foxton would always talk about his children and grandchildren, and made a point of keeping up to date about yours.
Close friend Khulu Mbatha wrote in City Press this week how he had always had stories about Lelo 3, Lelo 4 and Lelo 5. This was in reference to a little grandchild who updated her name according to her age.
As anyone who interacted with Foxton would attest, no conversation would be complete without an ode to Thuli Madonsela, his life partner and absolute love of his life.
To the rest of the world, she was the courageous former public protector and social justice activist, but, to Foxton, she was the summer rain that made his life verdant.
Foxton never held high office in the public or private sector, but the life he lived had much impact on South African society. Most importantly, however, he was just a blerry nice guy.
As we bid goodbye to this amazing South African, it is worth sending him off with the words of Bob Marley and the Wailers' song Rastaman Chant.
'One bright morning when my work is over
Man will fly away home
One bright morning when my work is over
Man will fly away home
Say one bright morning when my work is over
Man will fly away home.'
Your work is over now, Dick. You may fly away home to that sweet place called Paradise.