A tribute to Philip Haddon-Cave

inSight

07 Oct 1999

A tribute to Philip Haddon-Cave

It was an unusually cold and grey Hong Kong Sunday morning towards the end of January some twenty-odd years ago. The winds were howling from the north. But we all gathered in his room at around nine in the morning, as we usually did seven days a week during the Budget season. Since it was a Sunday we were all dressed casually. We also allowed ourselves to be less punctual than usual. As a junior member of the team I made a point of always arriving early, subconsciously hoping to make a good impression, and also, more practically, wishing to allow myself a head start to compensate for my lack of experience and a developed brain.

He was already there in his yellow jersey with his thin hair still looking a little moist after his morning swim at the then very small pool at the Jockey Club's old clubhouse in Sports Road. The small window at the back of his office, secured by iron bars, facing the hill and looking up towards Government House, was open. The cold air seeped mercilessly into the room. I quickly chose a seat well away from the head of the conference table that was annually attached to the end of his desk during the three-month long period of Budget Speech drafting in caucus, as he described it, away from the window and from the cold wind.

He was unusually quiet that morning, with his pipe in his left hand and his ball pen in his right, frenziedly scribbling on the margins of the draft papers in front of him. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I just sat there and waited for the others to arrive so that the session to scrutinise the fifth draft of the Budget Speech could start. We were entering the important stage in the drafting process. He had just submitted the usual minute on the details of the coming year's Budget up the hill and was expecting a reply endorsing it any time. Could it be that the endorsement that he had been waiting for was not forthcoming? Could it be that he had been asked to amend his Budget? Heaven forbid!

It should not have been a difficult budget, I had thought, given the abundance of revenue, which was producing bigger and bigger surpluses. But he had earlier expected difficulty precisely because of this, saying philosophically that not spending money when you have it is often a lot more difficult than spending it when you don't. He had also been under some pressure from up the hill to spend more, on social welfare, on public housing, on medical and health, on law and order - an endless list of highly desirable causes as well as a few free lunches. But he was determined to adhere to the many budgetary guidelines that he had developed over the years, one of which was, and still is, that the growth rate of public sector expenditure should be in line with the growth rate of the economy.

There was definitely something odd that morning. He had that rare mischievous look on his face and he was scarcely able to conceal it. What on earth was he up to, I wondered. But then I dared not ask, for that would be somewhat disrespectful from a junior officer, even though he would probably not mind. I suspected that he was waiting for all of us to assemble before dropping the bombshell on us. Perhaps as a result of consultation up the hill he wanted major surgery on the structure of the Budget. I certainly hoped not, at that late stage of drafting. We needed to allow time for typing (word processing was not yet widely used in Hong Kong), translation and printing.

Then, as the last member of the team arrived, I noticed another odd thing. There was a record player on top of his large safe, which stood just in front of the small window that was letting in the cold air. Why was it there when he was not exactly known for his love of music? Eventually he looked up, seemingly to check that we had all arrived, but I was sure he had been impatiently and accurately ticking off the attendance in his mind as each of us turned up. He then put down his ball pen and his pipe, stood up, and without saying a word, went over to the record player, which must have felt rather chilly in the cold. Then he switched it on, put on an LP record, the identity of which he concealed much more successfully than his mischievous intentions, turned the volume to maximum and sat down again. As we heard the full blast of the less than perfect sound from the old record player we all roared with laughter.

And now, the end is near, and so I face, the final curtain.

My friends, I'll say it clear, I'll state my case, of which I'm certain. …

Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention.

I did what I had to do, and saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway.

But more, much more than this, I did it my way.

Yes there were times, I'm sure you knew, when I bit off more than I could chew.

But through it all, when there was doubt, I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all and I stood tall, and did it my way.

In the middle of the song, he turned the loudspeaker, still at maximum volume, to face the small window behind him, broadcasting it loud for whoever was up the hill.

Yes. It was Frank Sinatra's "My Way". And indeed he had done it his way. With minimal changes to the fifth draft, we efficiently produced the sixth draft by the end of that cold Sunday. He kept the growth rate of public sector expenditure at around the same as the growth rate of the economy. He budgeted for the largest surplus then recorded. He even increased taxes to ensure that their yields kept up with inflation.

"My Way" was also the song played by RTHK during the break when it broadcast his marathon Budget Speech at the Legislative Council sitting then chaired by the tenant of Government House.

I hope you will not mind sharing with me these fond and private memories of a great man and a great teacher who has just passed away.

Joseph Yam
7 October 1999

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