What he lacked in height, he made up in myriad attributes. Intellect, imagination, loquacity and the ability the turn words into something quite magical. Rex Gibson was by no means a tall fellow; in fact he was the epitome of a short-arse.
But had immense stature and the almost perverse ability to make irascibility come across as some sort of gift.
He was also a cynic of note, incapable of responding to any kind of question, any kind of dialogue, even an innocent “good morning” without liberally lacing his retort with verbal barbed wire. And if he really liked you it was of the full-blown military spec razor wire variety.
He was without doubt one of the most colourful characters of South African media. Probably not the most popular, but that worried him less than the irritation caused by a starving flea scrabbling about on an elephant’s backside.
Rex Gibson was also one of my favourite people. Someone with whom I enjoyed brief conversations. I say brief because lengthy conversation with Rex was far too tiring. You didn’t so much talk to him as indulge in verbal jousting and a competition in which the most caustic slur determined the winner.
If I were stranded on a desert island I would hope that Rex would be among those stranded with me. He’d probably sue me from wherever he is now, claiming he was not that sort of person and would not be seen dead on a desert island with me or any other man for that matter, not even Harvey Tyson, and anyway, if he had to be cast away on any island, it would be in the company of a bevy of nubile young starlets and his golf bag.
Those were times that Rex probably enjoyed most. Being under siege but sticking to his guns. Knowing that he was right in fighting the good fight.
There can be no doubt that Rex was a brilliant journalist. He was editor of the Rand Daily Mail when it achieved world recognition for the part it played in the struggle against apartheid.
Those were times that Rex probably enjoyed most. Being under siege but sticking to his guns. Knowing that he was right in fighting the good fight. He was at the helm of the Mail when the decision was taken to shut it down. And to this day he never forgave the powers-that-be for pulling the carpet out from under his feet.
While those of us who worked for The Star in those days understood his ire, we were all secretly quite chuffed, if only from the point of view that it meant he would cross the great divide and come to The Star as deputy editor to his lifelong friend, confidant, golfing partner and quite often, foil, Harvey Tyson.
Rex was always an upper double figure golfer with absolutely no likelihood of achieving anything close to single figures. But he had the determination of Tiger Woods and in his opinion, the potential of at least Ernie Els.
And talking of golf, it was in this environment that the pure, unadulterated Gibson emerged. Playing golf with Rex was not just sport. Rather an experience of life itself. A journey into the unknown.
Rex was always an upper double figure golfer with absolutely no likelihood of achieving anything close to single figures. But he had the determination of Tiger Woods and in his opinion, the potential of at least Ernie Els.
Problem was, at best he had the latent golfing ability of Harvey Tyson on a bad day.
His best performances, in my opinion, were twofold. The first was a reverse swing with his driver, smacking the ball with a baseball shot from where it was stuck shoulder height up a thorn tree on the second hole at Sun City. He must have hit that ball all of 280 metres and would have had a birdie if he hadn’t been penalised for lofting his third straight into his golf bag, which he’d left standing next to the green.
His next best performance was after he had taken an almighty swipe off the tee and hit the ball all of four metres, sharp left, into some dense bush.
“Oh, f…k .it,” he exploded, “I hate golf…”
Noticing that a woman was present, the incredibly quick-witted Gibson immediately turned to her and said, quite meekly, “My dear, I must apologise for using the word ‘golf’ in front of you….”
He was a great newsman with a great nose for news. And someone who, I think, delighted in seeing injustice exposed; in seeing the high and mighty being brought down from their perches.
A man who made a massive contribution to media in this country. And an equally massive contribution to a lot of careers, mine included.
