HERE at the Spec office we’ve known the late Gordon Lewis since the late 1960s.
The firm, Melville Orton & Lewis, which includes his name on the shingle, has been our legal counsel since that era.
Gordon retained a soft spot for the paper even after leaving for Melbourne to further his career – even penning some cricket articles for us following retirement.
In the early days we saw a bit of him as a local cricketer, plus cricket and football administrator.
Occasions still fresh in the memory include his days on district football tribunals – he as chairman of the panel on one side of the table and maybe your correspondent as reporting umpire or as an umpire’s advocate on the other.
They were the days of sometimes rough justice, before appeal processes came in – basically when the end justified the means.
Whether, subsequently as director of the Victorian Law Institute, sitting as a County Court judge, regular presentations on radio, guest speaker at both overseas and Australian conferences, or his role as Cricket Australia’s Senior Code of Conduct Commissioner, his name became almost as well known to the general public as it is to the legal profession.
At the age of 65, he wrote ‘a funny book about the law and his life that far’, titled “Bitten by an Elephant”.
This memoir includes an extensive section on years supporting defendants in Hamilton and District courts and working in district sporting circles.
A SELECTION OF HIS BEST YARNS
WHILE I was in Hamilton, booze buses were introduced.
In their earlier days they were little more than caravans.
The police were just setting up one near Lake Bolac on the Glenelg Highway when an aged vehicle veered off the road and parked next to the caravan.
The driver staggered from the car to the door of the caravan, blearily peered in and said, “Two pies, please, and go easy on the sauce.’
As was later proved in court, this was the first time he had gone easy on the sauce that night.
ALTHOUGH live was easier in the local country courts than it had been in Melbourne, I continued to make my usual number of gaffs.
One of my worst involved appearing at the Coleraine Court for driver Les Power (not his real name) who had left the Koroite Hotel in Coleraine and had driven off in a vehicle which wasn’t his.
Although the police thought that he was under the influence of alcohol, they were too late to test him, but to show him a thing or two they charged him with illegal use of a motor vehicle, which I thought was a bit mean in the circumstances.
I only got a chance to see Les just before the case was called on.
He said he had got into the wrong vehicle by mistake as they keys had been left in it.
Based on his story, it seemed to me to be a perfectly natural mistake, as twice that year I had got into somebody else’s white Ford Zephyr and tried to drive it away.
Indeed, on one occasion I had had an argument with the true owner, insisting that it was my car and not hers, and I was only convinced in the end when she used her key to drive off.
With compassion oozing from me, I said to Les that it was a perfectly understandable mistake and asked him what vehicle he drove.
He said, ‘Mr Lewis, I drive a 1966 Volkswagen,’ and I then asked ‘And what vehicle did you drive away, Les?’
He said, ‘A five-ton Borthwick’s meat truck.’
End of case.
AS a lawyer who loved sport, I became involved in sport administration in Hamilton.
My first appointment was to the Western District Football League Tribunal as chairman, and later as a member of the Disciplinary Tribunal, presiding over the Western Border League.
In those days, pre-1975, if you clobbered somebody on the football field deliberately, you got four weeks.
A South Australian player had rendered an Imperials player unconscious.
At the tribunal hearing before me, I was satisfied that the blow had been deliberate and indeed a cowardly ‘king hit’ a long way from the play, and I imposed a penalty of four weeks.
The offending player left the tribunal and shouted, f**k, and loudly slammed the door behind him.
I called him back and told him that I viewed his conduct before the tribunal as unacceptable, and after affording him the opportunity to give an explanation, I would deal with him.
His response was to say, f**k you, so I imposed a further four weeks, which caused him to leave the tribunal hearing room, slamming the door with even greater vigour, and this time inviting me to have sexual intercourse with my mother.
I called him back and told him that his behaviour was unacceptable to me and I imposed a further four weeks, making a total of 12 weeks at this point.
This time he left the tribunal much more quietly and I was unable to hear any obscenities.
Looking back, I suppose questions of natural justice came into it, but these were less sophisticated days; the 12 weeks suspension stood and I heard no more about it.
AFTER leaving Hamilton, apart from going regularly to first class cricket matches. I had little or nothing to do with cricket until a stroke of luck in the ‘80s.
A friend of mine, Ian Huntington, who had played cricket for Victoria and who had been stiff to miss selection for Australia, knew that the Victorian Cricket Association was looking for a Code of Conduct Commissioner.
He knew of my love for the game and put Ken Jacobs, the VCA Secretary, in touch with me. It followed that in 1985 I became a Disciplinary Commissioner for the Victorian Cricket Association.
When I was appointed I was warned by Jacobs that it was a job that carried with it some unpopularity, and indeed physical danger, as strong-minded men like Nigel Murch, Merv Hughes, Shaun Graf and Ian Callan were likely to be very critical of someone who might either rub them out or deprive them of a dollar.
I said, ‘To a man who has dealt with all public complaints against solicitors for more than 10 years, this will be a breeze.’
My first hearing involved Merv Hughes.
Merv had been playing for Victoria in a state game and he had become resentful of a number of appeals turned down by an umpire named Robin Bailhache.
Bailhache had a imperious manner as an umpire and certainly would never have won any popularity poll among the players.
In an event, the allegation was that Merv did the fizz with him and effectively told him to use a cricket stump to achieve an instant enema.
When the case came on before me, Merv appeared for himself, but pleaded not guilty.
The evidence against Merv was not terribly convincing and it was my intention to throw the charge out, until we came to that magic moment when Merv was entitled to have his say. ‘You don’t want to say anything, do you, Mr Hughes?’ I urged.
‘Yes,’ said Merv brightly.
I groaned inwardly. Merv then proceeded to dig a hole for himself and buried any hope he might have had of beating the charge.
I was left with no alternative but to find the charge proved and fine him.
