Malcolm Lyons Remembered – Ian Pattinson

Malcolm Lyons Remembered

Ian Pattinson (1970)

Ian Pattinson studied Law at Pembroke from 1970–1973. He is currently Chairman of the R&A Board and Chairman of the Royal & Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews. He has worked as the Rules of Golf Advisor at the Open Championship for both the BBC (from 2004–2015) and Sky TV (from 2016–2018). Here he shares his memories of Malcolm Lyons. I first met Malcolm in his rooms in College over 50 years ago, not many yards from the chapel where we were due to gather last year in his memory and to celebrate all that he had achieved. It is no exaggeration to say that this was an encounter that would set the course of my life.

With a father who was at Pembroke in the ’30s and a brother in the ’60s, my destiny was (in theory) prescribed, but attaining this holy grail proved much more problematical. In those times, the strict entry procedure was to sit A-levels first and follow these, a few months later, with an entrance exam. For the lucky (or was it the questionable) candidates, an interview with both tutors for admissions might then follow. My academic record, while not a disaster, was far from outstanding – even so, it was not the start I expected when my first interviewer inauspiciously opened with the simply shocking question: “Pattinson – what went wrong with your A-levels?”

But later, I carefully edged around vast, untidy piles of books to enter the room of (the then) Dr Lyons to the greeting: “Come on in, Ian; it’s good to see you – I hear your golf handicap is now 2.”

Having eventually been admitted to read law, I was not exposed to Malcolm’s prodigious scholarship or intellect, which was fortunate for me, as he was probably a genius and I was possibly a dunderhead. But whenever I saw him in College, I was warmly and reassuringly greeted as though I was part of the community of Pembroke, which was all I needed to know.

Malcolm later introduced me to Ursula, who was both charming and elegant and an exceptional academic in her own right, as well as a gracious and welcoming hostess at Bottle Hall and later – after I had left Pembroke – at Walnut Tree Cottage. Within the prolific range of her own talents was the ability to make a simply consummate cassata, which remains unforgettable to this day. But I digress.

Sir Roger Tomkys (in issue 94 of the Gazette) has recounted the circumstances of the Lyons’ family move to St Andrews, the Home of Golf, during Malcolm’s early life. There he taught himself to play golf; of that I am convinced. No-one who saw Malcolm play in later years could possibly believe that he had ever received a lesson in his life. A classical, balanced golf swing is a thing of beauty. By contrast, Malcolm’s own technique was simultaneously both fascinating and mildly excruciating to watch. His action was eccentric and unorthodox. He eschewed conventional – ie spiked – golf footwear and wore instead, stout walking shoes with sensible rubber soles. When first we played, his antique golf bag contained an unmatched set of clubs from another era. Malcolm was not, in truth, athletic and he assumed an ungainly and awkwardly narrow stance prior to making a golf stroke. A look of extreme concentration would totally absorb his

features, as he drew the club back slowly, almost in the style of a fly fisherman about to cast his line, before launching his club at the ball with all the ferocity of a caveman killing his lunch. It was a wonder he ever hit the golf ball at all; but he did so very successfully, propelling it a significant distance and he played unbelievably well. I really do not know how he did this, but he became an accomplished golfer, achieving a low single figure handicap.

Malcolm was unfailingly modest and self-effacing and had absolutely no ego, but he certainly had a secret weapon. His unassuming, genial personality masked the key to his success – it belied a discreet competitive spirit. With his impish sense of humour, he liked nothing better than first to deceive a youthful golfer into thinking that his bizarre method meant he must be incompetent and then watch as the match developed and a different reality dawned on his hapless opponent. This resulted in the defeat of many a frustrated golfer. Malcolm’s invariable reaction to this was to smile innocently and very quietly utter his unique laugh – “tee hee!”

In 1962, Malcolm had become a member of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, the most significant Golf Club in the world. He loved to play the Old Course and would stay with his sister, who lived in the town. What a coincidence that he was required to visit St Andrews University so regularly to examine its PhD students…

Latterly, although he could not visit the Royal and Ancient, he was awarded a locker in the ‘Big Room’, a hallowed area of the clubhouse – an accolade reserved for the Club’s most senior members.

Malcolm’s awkward co-ordination and possibly his eyesight prevented him from driving a car, but he prevailed upon the saintly Ursula to deliver him to golf and afterwards collect him, whether from Gog Magog, Royal Worlington, or even the links of St Andrews. He greatly enjoyed his membership of the Royal and Ancient and his deceptively good play there carried him to his greatest golfing successes, with victories in two major Club competitions – the Calcutta Cup, in a foursomes partnership with his friend Michael Scott, and the John Ellis Knowles Trophy, which he won on his own account.

Malcolm’s time as Tutor for Admissions (Arts) in the College corresponded with an unprecedented run of success for Cambridge in the annual Varsity golf match. A Pembroke golfer invariably featured in the team and indeed, during Malcolm’s reign, Pembroke produced more golf blues than any other Cambridge college apart from Trinity.

As has been stated by Roger, the loss of Ursula was a monumental blow for Malcolm and the last years of his life were challenging. Although I knew that his health was not robust, the news of his death on the evening of 18 December 2019 nevertheless came as a shock to me.

For earlier, that very afternoon, after quite a gap since my previous visit and armed with a bottle of the Royal and Ancient’s no 2 whisky, which I knew he would enjoy, I chanced to call on him, thank heavens. He was, of course, physically diminished but he was working when I arrived and his spirit certainly shone brightly. As I had found before, the range of Malcolm’s conversation, especially when lubricated by a dram or two, was wide ranging. With some

prompting, many topics of interest were discussed – his upbringing; golf (naturally); his brief attachment to MI6; Pembroke; Ursula and how his faith had sustained him after her death; university sport and its relationship to academic success (which he correctly maintained are more often linked than not); the Royal Family (of which he was supportive); Scottish rugby (which he said made him too nervous to watch); and the recent General Election. Neither did he forget to mention his gratitude to his terrific carer, Stella.

By chance, I reminded Malcolm of our very first meeting all those years ago and how lucky I felt to have been admitted to Pembroke. “You deserved your place” is all he said about that, for which I will always be grateful.

In the academic world he inhabited, Malcolm was of course formidably distinguished but he was kind and anything but a formidable man. He had an acute memory, was genuinely interested in others, especially the young and he was surprisingly well informed about a great variety of topics too numerous to mention here. As will many whose lives he touched, I feel very fortunate to have met him.

He was a man for all seasons.