A service to
celebrate the life of Colin Guy Treadaway -Hoare
20th October 1923 - 9th February 2019
Friday 1st March
2019 at 3pm
The Round Chapel, Markeaton Crematorium
‘Damn the Torpedoes, was
my Dad’s favourite saying, and it is really how he lived his
life.
And what a life it was!
Orphan, Airforce Flight
Lieutenant, Business Man, Entomologist, Adventurer, Husband
and Father – and if you will allow me, I would like to
elaborate on these a little:
He was an orphan before
he was 7 years old and subsequently educated at the Royal
Masonic Public School. Aged 16, during the exodus of English
children from London at the time of the blitz, he was sent
abroad to his guardian in Canada in April 1940. His time with
his uncle on a farm was not a happy one, as he was treated as
an unpaid farm hand and he finally became so desperate that in
September the same year with but 2x Dollars in his pocket he
ran away.
I remember clearly him
talking about this time and saying that he found himself at a
cross road and had to consider his options: find work, any
work and work hard – or become a criminal. But my father
always rooted for ‘the goodies’ and consciously decided
against the latter and joined a road construction gang which
paid him $20.00 a week.
In 1942 he joined the
Royal Canadian Airforce and graduated at the top of his class
as Pilot Officer, Navigator. Even though he was offered to be
trained as a pilot in the recruitment process, he chose to
become a navigator, as he considered it more suitable for his
degree ambition after the war. He was assigned to the 427
Squadron as navigator for the squadron leader. He flew bombing
and mining trips in the war and was promoted up to Flight
Lieutenant. He only really started talking more about his time
in the airf orce in the last 3x years when he lived with us in
Derby. But then I guess living in Germany did not lend itself
to discussing allied air force war stories. My father liked
his time in the air force, despite the horrors of war. It
provided a feeling of belonging, family, pride, and
camaraderie – which were all not plentiful in his life up to
then. I am so grateful, that he was able to relive and share
that period more fully recently, when he was invited and
joined the Aircrew Association meetings in Nottingham – thank
you, I know he immensely enjoyed being part of those.
After he was discharged
from the RCAF in 1946 he entered McGill University to study
Chemical Engineering, earned a scholarship and graduated with
honours in 1951. It proved an important year for him as he
also married Irene, the mother of my brother and sister and it
was also the year he started working for Proctor &Gamble,
a company he stayed with until his retirement in 1987 and was
immensely loyal to and proud of.
My father worked for
P&G in various different countries, running as well as
establishing manufacturing plants. Countries to which in the
50s nobody wanted to live in, or even to travel to; the
Philippines, Venezuela, Indonesia, Peru and Morocco. I always
loved his stories of travel in the 50’s, where friends were
invited for cocktails on the plane and everyone dressed up for
the occasion. After drinks the invited guests would disembark,
the travellers were seated and off the plane went. What a
different world!
In 1960 he came to
Germany, where he was responsible for creating the
manufacturing arm of this new subsidiary. The German
subsidiary grew to one of the largest and in 1978 my Dad was
appointed Director of the company and was made a member of the
board. He worked for P&G Germany until he retired and also
remained in Germany until he came to live with us end of
2015., when my mother died.
That he was a successful
business man is no question, but he also was a popular one.
Amongst the guests for my father’s 80th birthday
party where quite a number of people who used to work for him
in the various German factories and I found a certificate he
was given by one of the factories, which declared him to be an
honorary factory pensioner due to his support to the factory,
as well as the loyal participation to the annual company
parties.
He could be very
charming, was always ready to listen and had a kind word for
everyone, if cleaner or factory worker.
Both my brother and
sister were born in the Philippines during the 50s and it was
also in the Philippines that my father became actively
involved in entomology, focusing specifically on the
Philippine butterflies. Even as a little boy, insects had held
a special fascination for my father and his collecting spirit
became apparent very early on. Whilst living in the
Philippines however, where butterflies flutter all around, are
full of colour and vary tremendously in size, they became the
fascination and passion of his life. And with the same focus,
determination and stubbornness, which all family members
admired him for and at times despaired at, he decided to study
butterflies in his spare time– and never doing anything by
halves he did not just acquire knowledge, he added to it.
Years later he was known to be the world expert for Philippine
butterflies. He was appointed an honorary member of the
Senckenberg Research Institute in 1981, was admitted to the
Fellowship of the Royal Entomological Society in 1988, and in
2003 honorary staff member of the Malaysian University,
Sarawak, North Borneo. As of today, he has discovered and
named over 400 butterflies and moths, published over 100
journal articles as well as around 7x books, and his
collection (which was vied over by 3x museums; 1x being the
British Museum!), is now part of the Senckenberg Museum in
Frankfurt. And to his great surprise, delight, honour and
pride he was made an honorary doctor of the University of
Derby last year, for his significant contribution to butterfly
research.
However, it was not only
the butterflies themselves which fascinated him, it was also
the thrill and adventure of acquiring them. As long as I can
remember my father went on yearly jungle trips to the
Philippines, climbing mountains, camping in the jungle, eating
bats, travelling to ‘in the middle of nowhere’ islands
inhabited by remote local tribes or guerrilla groups. His
stories are legendary amongst his family and friends. My
personal favourite was always the one where he fell into a pit
dug by a local tribe whilst chasing after a butterfly with his
net. He fell into the pit, but had a soft landing, as before
him a wild boar had fallen in, and after the boar a boa
constrictor snake, who had eaten the boar and was in the midst
of its digestion sleep. Dad always said he had no idea how he
got out of the pit, the horror of realising that he had landed
on a 6 foot snake which was awakening must have given him
wings. The commotion brought the tribe, as well as my father’s
guides running, and after making sure my father was ok, hefty
discussions started between the two groups – it was resolved
in the snake being cut open and the boar extracted. The tribe
walked away with the snake, and the guides with the boar –
both sides happy!
My father met my mother
Waltraud at P&G and both fell madly in love with each
other and married in 1971. They both defied convention at the
time and took a risk getting married, as there was a 22 year
age gap between them. My father loved my mother dearly and
when she passed away through cancer only 69 years old, a
little bit of him died with her.
But he thankfully
accepted our invitation to live with us back in the UK, some
75 years after he left for Canada. It was a huge change, but
again that stubbornness and determination came to the fore. It
would have been easy to give up, but in the last three years
he made a life for himself here in Derby, and he made friends!
With a daily diet of leisurely breakfasts, catching up on
world events, and walking Snorker our dog every day in Darley
Park, it did not take long for him to know more people in the
neighbourhood than us, and he charmed all.
My cousins, niece and
nephews always saw him as some kind of Indiana Jones. His best
friend described him as a mix between Fred Astaire and David
Niven. He had a life long appreciation for ice cream, mangoes
and westerns.
He was charming, without
airs and graces, focussed, determined, grateful, generous,
stubborn and a gentleman of old, and although of an era where
emotions were not talked about, he was never a cold person.
He led his own life and
made it what he wanted it to be – he strived, worked for it,
made it happen. He managed to combine a successful working
career whilst obtaining tremendous knowledge in a scientific
field, as well as travelling and having lots of adventures. It
has to be said, that at times it was to the detriment of
family life, but we are and will always be hugely proud of who
he was and what he achieved in his life. Always following the
motto DAMN THE TORPEDOES, full speed ahead
I would like to say a few words on behalf of family members who could not be here today. From my older sister Alexandra who lives in Washington DC, “My father, a dear and brilliant man I have always loved, may you rest in heaven filled with butterflies”.
From Guy his eldest grandson who was named after him and lives in North Carolina. “Grandpops was the foundation of everything. The guide, I love him so very much. He always has been, is and forever shall be the person I most want to be like.”
As for myself my
memories of him run deep. In my eyes he was always serious
about making the most out of life which I am sure stems from
his early difficult life. He was strongly competitive from
running in school races competing with fathers half his age!
To being able to drive a golf ball the furthest on a putting
range in his 80’s…. I still can’t forgive him for showing me
up on that one. He was also compassionate and a good listener
and his counsel was sought by many.
I always remember some
of his sayings to me such as… “A good workman never blames his
tools, Andrew” there was never a chance to do a half-hearted
job with Dad around. Another was… “If you expect to rate never
expectorate” It was his way of making sure I put my best foot
forward and tried my best.
When as a teenager about
to leave home, I was out jogging and came home to find him
running on the spot in his underwear in the bathroom… I
thought at first, he had stubbed his toe! But no, he was
getting fit in his own time precious way for one of his
butterfly expeditions in the Far East.
He was a gentleman of
the old school, I never heard him swear when growing up. He
would get up if lady came into the room. Offer his seat to
older and more infirmed people when on journeys. He was always
sincere when shaking anyone's hands. He had a presence about
him and always stood out in my eyes.
I feel that there must
be silver linings in every cloud in life, and for my father in
this time he will be able to join the woman he loved most, my
stepmother Waltraud.
Farewell dad - you will
be missed by many.