(Author: Norman Sher, Vol. 66, #3, Chanukah 2011)
- Feature image: The author (self portrait)
Early in June 1964, I arrived at the entrance of the Johannesburg Magistrates’ Court to commence my first day as a public prosecutor. It was a day of trepidation. I had just returned from what was then Rhodesia, where the courts, particularly the High Court, were beautifully conducted. The advocates wore wigs and were trained barristers from London who spoke impeccable English. I enjoyed my service in Rhodesia, where law practice was conducted in a far more honourable manner compared to its practice in South Africa. The practitioners were people of high calibre and morals.
I entered the building and was taken to the Control Prosecutor, who greeted me affably in a broad Afrikaans accent and escorted me to ‘A’ Court, which was the remand court. He seated me at a desk which was loaded with files and in a state of complete chaos. The remand court dealt mainly with pass offences, which in those days was a serious offence. Offenders were treated very harshly and without any sympathy whatsoever. This was on a Monday morning after the police had conducted their normal weekend raids and had sought to arrest as many culprits as possible with no regard to their dignity or feelings.
The Magistrate entered the court and called upon me to call the roll. He spoke in an Afrikaans accent so contrary to the impeccable English that I had become accustomed to in the Rhodesian courts. I did not even have a chance to peruse the dockets and noticed that there were no charge sheets. I informed the presiding Magistrate and he told me to call out the names and write out the charge sheet at the same time. This was horrendous and I was completely at sea, but received no sympathy from the Magistrate, who continually asked me to “stop wasting time.” It was pathetic to see the accused entering the dock. Most of them were still in their sleeping clothes and had not had any food whatsoever. Somehow I managed to struggle through the dockets. All the accused pleaded guilty and received substantial fines. They could not afford to pay and were thus consigned to prison.
During the tea break, I sat in the tea lounge, which has not changed to this day. Seated next to me was a Jewish colleague, Ansel Herrmann. We were destined to become great friends over many years. It was also his first day. He told me about his experience in the liquor court, which he described as absolutely terrifying.
I felt very disillusioned and unhappy at the conclusion of my first day as a state prosecutor.
A month now passed, by which time I was beginning to get used to the new environment and atmosphere. I walked many miles up and down the impressive corridors and passages, which are both elegant and impressive and unchanged to this very day. I was now in the traffic court, which was a world in its own, presided over by Magistrate Pierre G. Roos. He was to become infamous in later years.
The senior prosecutor was Dennis Rothwell, and we struck up an immediate affinity as we both had a common passion, namely tennis. Dennis became very lustrous in the legal fraternity and prosecuted in many famous cases, including the Meyersohn fraud case. He was later to become a prominent Silk and the attorney general of the Cape. When he died a few years ago, it left a tremendous void in my life. Dennis encouraged me to play league tennis for the police, and I was probably the only Jewish person ever to do so. We spent many wonderful hours in the police pub, which was frequented by members of the tennis club. Others who did so included Brigadier Johan Coetzee, later to become the Commissioner of Police, and Claus Van Lieres, who achieved considerable fame as the Attorney General of the Transvaal and as one of the most eminent South African prosecutors.
I recall playing league against a prominent Jewish club and being approached by one of its members who asked what my function was in the police. When I replied “special investigations”, he looked at me in trepidation and walked away, noticeably pale. It was a proud moment when the police won the league and I received a presentation at a prominent function attended by the Minister of Justice.
Tennis has played a very important role in my life. I played at provincial level and was fortunate to go to Wimbledon for twenty consecutive years, seeing some of the most memorable matches in the history of the game. I was also fortunate to gain access to the players’ lounge. I recall the day I was sitting on the player’s balcony and striking up a conversation with a bedraggled gentleman sitting next to me. I asked him what he did for a living and he replied that he was an actor. “Are you a serous actor”, I asked. He looked at me in absolute dismay and told me he was Richard Harris (one of the great screen actors!)
I have always been fascinated by the courts, and being prosecutor was a completely different role to that of the defence attorney. I remember when I was in practice in Rhodesia being told by the legendary Isie Maisels that when you address the courts, you are on ‘holy ground’. I have always remembered these words, but prosecuting in the traffic court was a complete fiasco.
Magistrate Roos dominated the proceedings from start to end. He was an extremely aggressive person and treated all the offenders with absolute contempt. In those days, it was the custom that when offenders failed to pay a traffic fine, a warrant of arrest was issued and they were immediately apprehended and brought before court. I recall many of my colleagues and friends begging me to assist them, but I was not in the position to do so.
Years later, it was revealed that Roos accepted bribes and that he would stand in cinema and theatre queues wearing his magisterial gown, thereby obtaining the best free tickets available. There was also a chaotic situation in his court when it was discovered that a great many files had been mislaid. After intensive investigations, it was discovered that both Roos and the Clerk of the Court, working in conjunction, had deliberately mislaid the files and received substantial payments from the various offenders.
I was indeed relieved when I was transferred to the Kliptown Magistrates Court, together with Jules Sher (now a judge in London). It was a source of great amusement when the police called the Kliptown court and were asked, “Which Mr Sher would you like to speak to?” The caller, usually the Investigating Officer, would say, “How come there are two Jews working there?” Jules and I formed a formidable team and became great friends.
The Kliptown Court was extremely busy and dealt with offences of every nature. We were provided with delectable Indian lunches provided by a local curry restaurant. One of my old tennis friends, Jay Merkel, had a timber factory near the court. I often had a delectable kosher meal with him as well. Thursday evening was scheduled for a prosecutors’ meeting, presided over by Dennis Rothwell, which was a pretext for a hard drinking session by the non-Jewish prosecutors. I recall at one of the meetings how Dawie, a prominent prosecutor, became inebriated and was warned not to drive. He disobeyed and he was found in the early hours of the morning, outside the front gate of a house into which he had crashed. He was taken into custody and the usual blood tests taken. Naturally, the results subsequently disappeared and he was discharged.
The Magistrate before whom I appeared in Kliptown was HP Van Niekerk who, in complete contrast to Mr Roos, was both dignified and charming. I recall the day when I was prosecuting in a theft case and the accused’s attorney caused him considerable irritation by embarking on a lengthy and absolutely fruitless cross examination, resulting in Van Niekerk to reprimand him on numerous occasions. During the tea interval, he called me into his office and said, “Mr Attorney, you have learnt a good lesson today and that is not to irritate the Magistrate without having a definite line of cross examination.”
The other Magistrate in Kliptown was Henry Hitchcock. A dapper and debonair middle aged bachelor, he was charming and outgoing and had a delightful sense of humour which endeared him to everybody. I have always been a people’s man and struck up a strong affinity with my Afrikaans colleagues. I discovered the golden lesson in dealing with Afrikaans people was not to be aloof, but to relate to them on their level.
I made great friends during my prosecuting days, including Magistrate Hitchcock. I recall one incident when Henry approached both Jules and I said that he had a “hot date” and the roll in his court would have to be completed by 11am. Both Jules and I unanimously replied it was impossible, as there was a thousand pass offences on the trial roll. He replied, “Do not worry. I will deal with this.” He instructed us to have all the accused in the cells downstairs. We duly arranged this and Henry came into the cells. He said to all the accused that all the accused who pleaded guilty would be cautioned and discharged and those who pleaded not guilty would have their trial postponed for three months. All the accused in unison pleaded guilty and Henry walked out with his infectious smile and told us, “Nothing is impossible.” Jules and I spent the whole day writing up the trial court book.
The Kliptown court had wide jurisdiction and I was subjected to trials of every conceivable nature. The courts were supervised by Chief Magistrate Owen Gush, who made it his business to inspect every court to ensure that proceedings started promptly at 9 a.m. This is in complete contrast to the chaos that presently exists, where you are lucky if your court starts on time and many defence attorneys can spend almost a whole day in court without receiving a hearing.
As a prosecutor I was deeply disturbed in the manner in which prisoners were handled, which was to be expected as it was at the height of the apartheid era. The imposition of lashes was a drastic measure and serious injuries imposed to offenders by lashing remain indelibly imprinted in my mind.
A few more Jewish prosecutors came to join the service. They included Desmond Isaacs, who later achieved considerable success at the bar, Mike Heller, later Attorney General of Natal, Sam Sareff and Rodney Margo, son of the distinguished judge Cecil Margo. Rodney is renowned for being one of the most eminent authorities on aviation law and practices it in New York.
My biggest break to date came when I was transferred to the Regional Court and my Magistrate was Olga Mann. She achieved considerable fame and could out drink any man. A true lawyer, her judgements were indeed models of how the law should be interpreted. It was at this stage that I encountered many of the famous criminal lawyers of the day, such as Harry Goss, Sam Miller, Alec Edelson and Fred Zwarenstein (later to become an illustrious judge). Goss was a real character and his charm and great cross examination ability gave him an enormous following. George Bizos at this stage was a Junior Advocate and I had quite a few tussles with him in court.
In due course a well-known Jewish attorney, Maurice Isaacs, was appointed to the bench, becoming the first Jewish Magistrate. My ambition to be transferred to the Regional Court presided over by him was eventually realised. I will always remember Isaacs him for his courtesy, dignity and profound knowledge of the law. I recall a Jewish accused appearing before him on a charge of fraud and present in court was the interpreter; defence attorney, Joe Rabinowitz and myself as prosecutor. Joe, with his skilful ability, managed to get the accused discharged and I think it was the only occasion when the entire court was represented by four Jewish people
I grew up in Doornfontein with Joe, who was badly injured at an early age in a car accident. He walked with a limp and only had one kidney. He was an illustrious lawyer loved by all and later became the head of Fluxmans, a prominent Johannesburg legal firm. It was hard growing up in Doornfontein and I will always remember the words of my wonderful Yiddisha Mama, “Never work for a boss and all you need to be a lawyer is to have a desk and a telephone.”
Good friends whom I made amongst my prosecuting colleagues who remain indelibly impressed in my mind include Johnny Trengrove, son of the late Justice Trengrove. He later became the Chief Magistrate of Pinetown. Another was Eugene Snyman, who is now heading a well known legal firm.
I recall many years later, when I was a senior attorney and appeared before Henry Hitchcock. With a twinkle in his eyes and in open court, he asked ‘whether I was qualified to appear and I was to produce my admission certificate in his chambers during the tea interval.’ My client looked at me in absolute astonishment and I assured her that this was typical of Henry’s sense of humour. It was during this period that I met my wife, Estelle, at a party at which Henry was present. He called me aside and told me this was the girl that I was going to marry.
The prosecutors insisted upon throwing me a bachelor party which was held at the home of my mother (who fortunately was away on holiday). The prosecutors became intoxicated. The Chief Public Prosecutor, Carel De Langer, who was an absolute disciplinarian, insisted that on contacting the police to escort the prosecutors home as they were not in a state to drive. The police truck arrived and the police themselves got so drunk that a further truck had to be called to escort both them and the prosecutors.
The engagement party remains a beautiful memory bank. My dad went up to Henry and asked whether I would make a good husband. Henry replied, ‘he is a great guy and will make a wonderful husband.’ He was spot on as we have been very happily married for some 46 years.
My wedding was a gala affair attended by many of the prosecutors and including Dennis Rothwell and Dr Percy Yutar. Also, many of my friends from Rhodesia graced the affair with their presence. I now decided to leave the service, having gained invaluable experience and lasting friendships, and returned to continue in private practice in Rhodesia.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Department of Justice Prosecutors Staff, Criminal Courts, Johannesburg, September 1964.The author is seated, front, second from right.
Norman Sher studied at the University of the Witwatersrand, and for many years was a partner at Werksmans Attorneys. He has served on the committees of the Law Society of South Africa and of Rhodesia, where he also was in practice, and today runs his own attorneys’ firm. This article recounts his memoirs of service as a public prosecutor in the mid-1960s.
