The Fishy Smiths

by Mike Bruton

  During their time in Grahamstown, Rex Jubb published two important books on southern African freshwater fishes. The first book, inspired by Smith’s Sea Fishes, was An Illustrated Guide to the Freshwater Fishes of the Zambezi River, Lake Kariba, Pungwe, Sabi, Lundi and Limpopo Rivers (1961), covering 105 fish species; and the second, Freshwater Fishes of South Africa (1967), covering 166 species, was a worthy companion volume to Smith’s Sea Fishes.

  Jubb described 14 new freshwater fish species between 1954 and 1974 and had three new fish species named after him: Hypsopanchax jubbi (1965), Barbus jubbi (1967) and Nothobranchius jubbi (1979). In 1970 he received an honorary doctorate from Rhodes University for his contributions to ichthyology.

  Jubb was a very influential freshwater ichthyologist, who, through his knowledge of the fishes of Zimbabwe, Zambia, Malawi and Botswana, brought to the attention of scientists the diverse ichthyofauna of these regions. He successfully bridged the gap between the Gilchrist/Barnard era from the 1920s to the 1940s and the modern generation from the 1960s and 1970s.

  Paul Skelton, third director of the JLB Smith Institute of Ichthyology (now SAIAB).

  Rex Jubb died in East London on 25th October 1987 but his legacy lives on. His grandson, Rex Quick, continued the family tradition, completing his MSc thesis in ichthyology at Rhodes University in 1985 and Paul Skelton, who was tutored by Jubb, was subsequently appointed as Chief Professional Officer (Freshwater Fishes ), and later Curator of the Freshwater Fish Section, in the then JLB Smith Institute of Ichthyology (now SAIAB). He succeeded this author as the third Director of the Ichthyology Institute (1994–2011).

  1Nancy Tietz and GA (‘Turkey’) Robinson published a companion guide in this series, The Tsitsikama Shore – A Guide to the Marine Invertebrate Fauna of the Tsitsikama Coastal National Park (Tietz & Robinson, 1974).

  2A leptocephalus (meaning ‘slim head’) is the flat and transparent larval stage of an eel. It looks very different from the adult.

  CHAPTER 23

  Tragedy and recognition

  Death of JLB, and a flood of accolades

  IN LATE 1967 several people noticed that JLB Smith was behaving oddly. That November he handed his secretary, Jean Pote, a bonus cheque that was twice as large as she had expected and, on a visit to East London, he gave Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer a big hug and kissed her on the cheek as he left, something he had never done before. At Christmas he kissed his daughter-in-law, Gerd (Bob’s wife), on the forehead – once again, for the first time. He did not, however, change his demanding exercise regime and continued with his daily walks until the end.

  In August 1967, two days after returning from a Commission of Enquiry into the Oceangraphic Research Institute in Durban, both the Smiths fell extremely ill, and ‘… were carried off to hospital … in a comatose condition, mine a deep coma’ (letter from JLB Smith to E Parkes, 7th August 1967). The symptoms suggested food poisoning caused by ingesting an insecticide like Parathion, and JLB Smith nearly died from it. Although he returned to work within a few days, he never fully recovered. His blood pressure was unstable and he suffered severe mental depression (Report on the Death of Professor JLB Smith, 31st May 1968, Rhodes University Archive)1.

  On 7th January 1968 JLB Smith committed suicide at his home at 6 Gilbert Street, Grahamstown. Unlike the suicide of another South African natural historian, writer and poet, Eugène Marais2, Smith’s was carefully planned and neatly executed. A chemist to the end, he poisoned himself with a lethal dose of cyanide, to which he had ready access. Many years earlier, he had told his chemistry students, in jest, that cyanide would be the ‘quickest and neatest way’ to die (SATV documentary, 1976). He also remained practical and matter-of-fact to the end, leaving two notes (both of which have disappeared from the Ichthyology archives). The first was addressed to Margaret: ‘Goodbye my love, and thank you for a wonderful thirty years. I am going upstairs to the servant’s room. Careful. Cyanide’. In a separate statement he had typed: ‘… For some years I have suffered from severe mental depression … the sight of one eye has almost gone … back pressure is proving troublesome … I live in perpetual fear of becoming bedridden and helpless … I prefer to take this way out, probably only a brief anticipation of nature’ (Weinberg, 1999; MM Smith, pers. comm., 1986). He was cremated in Port Elizabeth and his ashes were buried in Grahamstown on 8th January 1968. His death was mentioned in Time magazine and obituaries appeared in many leading international newspapers, including the New York Times (Jackson, 1996).

  Throughout his ichthyology career, in the field and laboratory, JLB Smith had made extensive use of formalin as a fish preservative. Formalin, a 40% solution of formaldehyde in water, is an effective preservative for museum specimens as it kills bacteria, but it is also highly toxic to humans, as well as being carcinogenic. Smith (1951b) described the hazards of field work during the 1950 expedition to Pinda in northern Mozambique: ‘Then you have to start real hard work against time, setting, injecting and preserving the fishes … Formalin blurs your vision, bites your nostrils and brings agony to every scratch.’ We can expect that, with his knowledge of chemistry, JLB would have taken adequate precautions to reduce the risk of formalin poisoning, but this would have been difficult in the rough field and laboratory conditions under which he had to work. It is possible, even likely, that long-term exposure to formalin fumes may have adversely affected his health in general, and his eyesight in particular.3

  In the early 1980s Margaret confided to close associates that JLB had told her in early 1967 that he would be committing suicide after he turned 70; this was confirmed by Ian and Ishbel Sholto-Douglas (pers. comm., 2016). It must have been a terrible strain on Margaret not knowing when it would happen. Kathleen Heugh (pers. comm., 2017) remembers that JLB Smith told her father (Professor Jack Rennie) in 1946/1947, more than 20 years before his suicide, ‘… that he did not believe in being a burden to society and at the point he might come to realise that he might be receiving more than giving to the world, he would take his own life’. Thomson (1991) reported, ‘Legend has it that he had announced many years earlier that he had no intention of living past seventy’.

  An ex-student, W Norton, wrote after Smith’s death, ‘I am so glad the Professor had the courage to go when he felt the time had come for him to do so’.

  The month before JLB Smith’s death, on 13th December 1967, James Hyslop, Vice-Chancellor of Rhodes University, wrote to Smith informing him that the university had decided to offer him the degree of Doctor of Philosophy (honoris causa), to be conferred in April 1968. This was a rather belated honour, considering that Smith had served the university with such distinction for over 45 years and, as it turned out, it came too late.

  Towards the end of JLB’s life his memory loss was palpable as he started to repeat stories, which he had never done before. He had seen some of his friends and colleagues, especially the politician ‘Eben’ Dönges, become burdens on their families due to protracted illnesses, and did not want to inflict this fate on Margaret. Dönges (1898–1968), South African Minister of Internal Affairs from 1948 to 1961, had been a student with Smith at Victoria College and remained a lifelong friend. He had contracted Alzheimer’s disease and his prolonged treatment drained the family coffers until he eventually died on 10th January 1968, three days after Smith, and one year younger than him.

  Smith’s untimely death resulted in a deluge of remembrances, both generous and harsh. In spite of his tetchy manner, he was loved and admired by many, not least for his empathy and support for those experiencing difficult times.

  The Smiths’ close friend, Shirley Bell, recalled the friendship JLB had shown her:

  ‘I know his reputation for irascibility, but he was so good to me, and so was Margaret. They made me see new possibilities. I loved being with them. And I loved the stories he would tell (Flora did not like him at all and considered that he had spoiled Margaret’s life! She felt that Margaret should have stuck to her intention of becoming a medical doctor). … I
can still remember how shocked I felt when Margaret let me know of his death. I just couldn’t associate it with what I knew of JLB, but I think Eben Dönges’s deterioration and death had a good bit to do with his decision, as he had this feeling that he might be going the same way after he had had the slight turn that he felt had affected his microscope eye. Margaret was so brave. What unbelievable friends they were to me.’

  The depth of Shirley’s distress at JLB’s death is reflected in a letter from Margaret, dated 23rd January 1968:

  ‘I am sorry that the Professor’s death has upset you so much. I know that it was a big blow to you as it was to us but just remember my dear that he wanted it that way. When I feel depressed about it I imagine what it would have been like if he had had a stroke and was now lying helpless and that was a very real danger; in fact he had such strong premonitions that he would have a stroke that it might easily have been waiting for him.’

  JLB adopted a philosophical attitude in life that enabled him not only to deal with some of his own demons, but also to reach out to others. In a letter dated 26th June 1967 to Marie-Louise Bauchot, an ichthyology colleague in Paris, he sympathised with her distress and offered this advice:

  ‘I am so sorry to hear of your difficulties. However believe me from my own life I have come to realise that you learn and develop more when you have to work under difficult conditions. While it may be more pleasant at the time to have a smooth path, you learn less of life. I have a saying that one cannot appreciate heaven well unless you have a taste of hell. All the good things in life come from within oneself.’

  Allan Heydorn, when he first assumed his post as Director of the Oceanographic Research Institute (ORI) in Durban in 1967, also benefited from Smith’s salutary advice. David Davies, who had been the first Director of ORI (1958–1965), had died tragically in a car accident and the person appointed to replace him, John Morgans, didn’t last long. Allan inherited an institution in crisis as deadlines had been missed for CSIR research grant applications, and scientists, such as John Wallace and Paddy Berry, were seriously demotivated and wanted to leave. He also learned that there was a distinct possibility that ORI might be closed down, and that a CSIR Commission of Enquiry would be visiting the institution within a month of his arrival to investigate the matter and make a final decision. Allan and his staff worked day and night during that first month, rewriting motivations, drawing up budgets and time schedules, and preparing the submission to the Commission of Enquiry, which was chaired by the President of the CSIR, Dr Meiring Naudé. One of the commission members was JLB Smith (A Heydorn, pers. comm., 2017).

  JLB Smith and David Davies, both key trendsetters in marine science, at the Oceanographic Research Institute in Durban in 1961. It must have been a very serious meeting for JLB to wear a suit!

  Smith came to see Heydorn in his office shortly before the meeting, and asked him, ‘Allan, and how do you feel about this institutional emergency which you were forced to handle so unexpectedly?’, to which Allan replied, ‘Professor, after the loss of my friend David Davies who [was] such a brilliant first Director, I regard it as a tragedy that things went wrong subsequently and that not only the Institute but also its dedicated staff are now subjected to such a traumatic situation. I am not certain at all that I am up to the job.’ Smith looked at him quietly and then said, ‘You are quite wrong, Allan. Real growth does not take place at times when everything goes well and according to plan, real growth and development of inner strength only takes place at times of crisis and hardship such as you and your staff are experiencing now. I have seen what you have jointly put together in a ridiculously short time and I predict that, not only ORI but you as a person, will go from strength to strength as a result of the crisis which you have now been forced to handle’ (A Heydorn, pers. comm., 2017). Once again Smith had played his ‘strength in adversity’ card.

  Allan Heydorn also recalled that JLB’s

  ‘… wisdom and encouragement meant more to me than can be expressed in words. It was the start of a bond between him and me which existed until the day of his death [sadly, only seven months later]. The Commission gave us the go-ahead to continue, coupled with the so badly required financial support. The crisis also forged a highly productive working relationship between all ORI scientists and myself. And the Institute did grow from strength to strength during the years which followed. Prof JLB Smith remained a father-figure for us and a mentor and advisor. I sought his advice on many an occasion. This included my decision that ORI needed to move from research programmes focussing on individual species, to an approach encompassing holistic ecosystem functioning and the role of individual organisms within the ecosystem. Much greater emphasis was also placed on the importance of land/sea interactions. JLB Smith supported me staunchly’ (A Heydorn, pers. comm., 2017).

  Many friends and acquaintances were very complimentary about JLB after he died. The South African Ambassador to the United States, HLT Taswell, wrote in tribute:

  ‘We have lost a great South African and an eminent scientist. His magnificent books will long remain a monument to his great research and be read by future generations with the same wonder and admiration that they are today.’

  MJ Desparmet, French Ambassador to the Republic of Somalia, wrote to Margaret after JLB’s death:

  ‘The news has come to all of us as a shock since Professor Smith beside the admiration we had for him, had become through his letters a kind, helpful if faraway friend linked to us by our common love of nature and sea life.’

  John Wallace (pers. comm., 2017), Director of the Port Elizabeth Museum from 1975 to 1986 and a Board member of the Ichthyology Institute, described JLB as ‘… an intense and dedicated scientist whose life revolved around ichthyology. He was very serious, with no time for frivolous small talk; basically an introvert.’ Wallace points out too that, in contrast, Margaret was ‘an extroverted people-person, a perfect “door keeper” to the lab, who protected JLB from the many who sought access to him. She was, of course, an excellent fish illustrator, without whose expertise JLB’s work would not have achieved such international acclaim.’

  Wallace, whose speciality was skates and rays, spent some time in JLB’s lab where he ‘was warmly welcomed by him because he regretted not having been able to devote more time to the skates and rays, which he considered a difficult group. Constructive about my work, he in no way resisted my review of his pioneering contribution’ (J Wallace, pers. comm., 2017).

  Nancy Tietz (pers. comm., 2017) described JLB as

  ‘Distant, solitary, unless one was talking about fishes, a loner generally, interested and encouraging to young people, impatient with the world around him but knew exactly what was what. Didn’t suffer fools gladly except me! (After I’d sent him the measurements and DandA counts of a fish that had been brought into the museum he wanted to see the specimen – we had fried it and eaten it for dinner – he just shook his head and said (words to the effect) next time wait for my response before you do that).’

  An angler, Jock Cawse, opined, ‘It was always a pleasure to hear of his interests whether it was at a lecture or during an informal chat … apart from his enthusiasm for his work he was a very kindly person to all who were privileged to know him’; and Val Roux, an ex-staff member, said, ‘How I enjoyed his company, his pungent wit and his keen perception’. The well-known angling writer and publisher, Bob Harrison, summed it up by saying, ‘It will not be for his achievements that we shall remember him, but for his unending kindness’; and another publisher, RM Hodgson, enthused, ‘Our memory of him is one of a very happy personality with a lively mind always dedicated to the work he had on hand at that moment’.

  Peter Jackson (1996) had high praise for Smith, the ichthyologist:

  Drawing by Dave Voorvelt of Peter Jackson.

  ‘He was certainly the best known ichthyologist in Africa, if not the world at that time … He was to me, as to most South Africans, the towering figure in ichthyology. … All in all, Smith, though
I was never his student, had a greater influence on my formative years than anyone else. Whatever I wrote was usually modelled on his style. Thus when I wrote a book on Northern Rhodesian (now Zambian) fishes it contained items of information for the interested angler or naturalist, directly inspired by Smith’s 1949 book.’

  Jackson (1996) also waxed eloquent about JLB’s skills as an entrepreneur and marketer:

  ‘Ever the entrepreneur, Smith perceived that the best way to obtain research funds was to get into the public eye and stay there. The coelacanth episode had brought him fame, but his empathy with laymen who loved the sea, especially anglers, earned him his popularity with the man in the street. … Ever a lone wolf, Smith cared little about the coolness with which his fellow scientists greeted his publicity seeking, which was “not done” in their code … Smith might have lacked rapport with colleagues and terrified his workers, but though his teaching days were over he was first and last a university don. To him students always came first. From him I received nothing but kindness, courtesy and sound advice.’

  Many others echoed this sentiment, and it was this author’s experience as well. Underneath the hard exterior was a soft and empathetic core that was especially responsive to anyone in need. Smith’s ‘publicity seeking’ was not in pursuit of personal glory, but he was astute enough to realise that the coelacanth could focus attention on his work and on ichthyology in South Africa, and therefore attract research funding. JLB grappled with journalists throughout his career as he expected them to uphold the same standards of accuracy that he had set for himself, but was often disappointed. He also abhorred sensationalism in science reporting (Smith, 1956).