Anton Scalabrino

27 November 1954 – 26 June 2019

A Tribute to Anton 

Those that knew Anton Scalabrino well, will agree that he was one of a kind and made a huge contribution to skydiving in Cape Town and the rest of SA.  KOOS PRETORIUS, a friend, contributed this eulogy to him. 

While I am writing about Anton Scalabrino and the many wonderful experiences we have shared over the past 33 years from my hotel room in Mexico City, a very animated and vibrant gay pride parade is in full swing along the walkway below. All the colour and energy visible through the window of my hotel room are a good backdrop for what I have set out to do. Whilst Anton was as straight as can be, he certainly knew how to have fun and infect those around him with his joyful and spirited celebrations of life.

Anton’s impact on my life has been profound and lasting. Spending a few hours to prepare this tribute will never do justice to a man as unique and authentic as Anton. I therefore plan to do more writing later this year to record some of my personal highlights and adventures with him. Hopefully, these stories will better capture some of his indomitable character and spirit, so that he will live on in another way for those who had the privilege of knowing him and, hopefully, also for those who did not.

I first encountered Anton during 1986 at the Western Province Sports Parachute Club in Citrusdal. He was debating some or other aspect with the other members of his 4-way free-fall formation team in the club’s aircraft hangar, who had their own views on the issues at hand. And typical of skydivers, free spirits who rarely agreed on anything, the discussion became heated. It was not as if I was eavesdropping on their conversation or anything like that, as the foursome were shouting at one another at the top of their voices. The expletives were plentiful, but so was the humour and sarcasm. 

As usual, Anton held his ground and made it clear to all who cared to listen that the problem would only be solved his way and that the rest of humankind was completely idiotic, illogical and half mad. For an impressionable wannabe skydiver like me who was only starting out his “flying experience”, the man came across as a sky god, who only surfed the purest of white clouds and breathed the clearest of blue sky. This image of course changed somewhat over the years, especially after Anton many years later shared some of his raucous adventures with the Roberts sisters with me.

Later that day, despite fearing that I would be told where to get off, I asked Anton a question about anxiety and skydiving. Contrary to my expectations, Anton took time to give me a detailed and reasoned answer. Whilst I had no way of judging his views back then, I was impressed by the care he took with his answer and the clarity, spice and humour he added to bringing across his very own brand of logic. Which pretty much sums up how our friendship played out from then onwards. 

As early as it became clear to me that we would have our differences, I also learned that I could consistently rely on Anton to care about those he valued, that he was fearlessly independent and original in his thinking and somebody who openly and convincingly spoke his mind once he had figured out things in his own peculiar way. Anton never followed the herd but had an uncanny ability to get the herd to take a keen interest in and follow him. And whilst it was not always possible to predict where he was heading next, he would be sure to tell you in little time.

Anton leaves me with countless memories and images which remain so powerful and alive to this very day that a part of him will always remain with me. I have selected some of these memories and images to briefly share in this tribute.

• The first is of Anton shaking hands with Brian MacKay, Stephan Marcus, Johan van der Spuy and me in the clubhouse of the Cape Parachute Club (CPC) exactly 30 years ago, after agreeing to establish a skydiving business at the Stellenbosch Airfield. Whilst all of us were brimming with ideas at the time, our assets consisted only of security Anton provided to Absa Bank, Anton’s 1 tandem parachute which he had purchased on a trip to the USA and CPC’s 3 static line student parachutes. This business underwent relocations and many transformations over the years, but continues to this day, albeit with other assets and different owners.

• Another memory is of Anton catching his first ever striped marlin in the deep blue water of the Pemba Channel off the south coast of Kenya and spending the next 7 days with Ed van den Berg and me on board a fishing boat, catching many exotic fish around Pemba Island in Tanzania. I recently asked Anton which of our many adventures he would want to repeat if he could have it all over and he chose this one, because he felt that everything he experienced on that first Kenya/Tanzania trip was new to him and the location exceedingly beautiful.

• My next memory is of Anton standing on the bottom wing and holding on for dear life to the top wing of Scully Levin’s Stearman Biplane for take-off and all the way up to 3,500 feet above ground level during the shooting of the “Renault Wind” commercial at the Stellenbosch Airfield. The prop blast coming off the Brave 410 horsepower rotary engine of Scully’s Stearman was so strong on take-off that Anton came within inches of letting go of his grip on the top wing. The huge and heavy movie camera mounted to his helmet did not make things any easier for him. Had he blown off the wings of the Stearman on take-off, there was no way he would have survived the event. Anton admitted to me years later that of all the stunts and crazy things he had done over the years, this one was perhaps the closest he got to meeting his maker.

• The next is of Anton carefully and calmly explaining to the near hysterical girlfriend of an unconscious tandem passenger why a Bar One suppository would instantly cure his low blood-sugar levels that undoubtedly caused him to pass out under canopy in mid-air, if she first removed the plastic wrapper from the chocolate bar before inserting the remedy into the indicated part of his anatomy.

• I can still see Anton painstakingly stalking a herd of buffalo for a few hours in pouring rain, across a swamp in ankle deep water and shoulder-high “adrenaline grass” somewhere in the Omay Region of Zimbabwe, until he got close enough to the breeding bull or “dagga boy” to deliver a Texas heart-shot from behind the beast, meaning that the poor animal received a lead suppository up his sphincter.

• I recall Anton taking me as his passenger during tandem training on my first ever tandem skydive to show me how it all hangs together and what to do when things go wrong on the big screen of life. I remember being quite relaxed during the experience, with Anton reassuringly taking charge.

• But I also recall an image of Anton spiralling his brand-new Pintail super-performance parachute into the ground and shattering a femur in several places during an attempted hook-turn landing at the Stellenbosch Airfield, with me holding his hand and telling him not to pass out on the way to the Medi-Clinic hospital in Somerset-West.

• I see Anton taking Nicholas and Alexander on their first ever hunts in the Karoo and Namibia and them playing endless rounds of desert golf with Thomas, Bernardt and me in the red sand of the Namibian Kalahari Desert, on a farm somewhere between Kois and Gochas, whilst our enormous pot of Springbok venison simmered away, was consumed in instalments and nursed to perfection over a period of 1 week.

• I see Anton exiting a Cessna aircraft with me and Kleinjan Moller’s then girlfriend on a bitterly cold winter tandem jump 10,000 feet above Kleinjan’s Karoo farm near Carnavon, on the same day I unfortunately managed to kill a black swan, one of only 2 birds comprising Kleinjan’s treasured black swan breeding pair. (He had hoards of white swans).

• I recall Anton saving the day at the Stellenbosch Airfield when two guys high and out of control on Mandrax tried to drive their Nissan sedan into a group of unsuspecting skydivers, friends and family relaxing on the lawn in front of the clubhouse on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

• I see Anton carefully guarding over us with his 9 mm handgun, watching out for hippos and crocodiles whilst Bruce Molzen and I were having a proper wash in the Kunene River at our bush camp under the Ana trees along the top end of the Marienfluss grass-plains, mid-way through a 20-day Kaokoland trip with a myriad of quirks and scores of experiences.

• I recall Anton arranging a celebratory and somewhat defiant braai at the rebuilt aircraft hangar on the first anniversary of the fire which destroyed all of our parachuting equipment and 2 of the 3 aircraft at the Delta 200 Airfield.

• I also recall Anton again saving our bacon when a group of skydivers, including me, were about to exit an aircraft high above thick fog a few kilometres off the Langebaan/Saldanha coastline, mistakenly believing that we were over land at the time. Hypothermia and/or drowning would have been the outcome for most or all of us, but for Anton.

• I also see Anton catching his first blue marlin off São Vicente, one of the Cape Verde Islands, and the two of us only just surviving a tropical windstorm on a subsequent trip to the same area.

• I recall Anton untiringly traveling long distances to so many venues and very patiently and attentively making countless early breakfasts, mixing energy and recovery drinks and waiting for hours on end at water points and finish lines as our solo back-up team for most of the multi-day mountain bike stage events which friends like Andre van der Veen, Timo le Roux, Herman van der Werf and I participated in across South Africa, Europe and in Canada.

• I see Anton yet again coming to the rescue as he fired away from high ground at a wounded buffalo charging towards an unsuspecting Canadian by the name of Tom Britton somewhere in the Dande Region of Zimbabwe, well before any of us had the awareness to see what was happening or respond appropriately.

• I also see Anton reversing both engines of my beloved ski boat into the pier-head of the Still Bay Harbour and telling me to suck it up and repair the damage as that was what I deserved for being idiotic enough to entrust the vessel to a man who does not know the first thing about boats.

• I recall Anton the non-fisherman catching all 5 species of Canadian salmon in a single day off Prince Rupert on the Canadian West Coast just to declare by the end of the day that there was nothing to fishing, that he did not understand what all the hype was about, that he had no interest in the salmon and crab feast we were preparing for dinner and that he was quite happy to stick to the spaghetti al oleo dish prepared by himself and mixed with a little Marmite for additional flavour.

• I see Anton making creative modifications to my gutters and installing piping to my rainwater tanks well into his illness and just because he wanted to figure out whether and how his rainwater capturing system could work for my house (or so he said).

• And I hear Anton explaining to me in his very own refreshing and logical way, 2 weeks before his death, that I should not be upset about him checking out, that it would have been impossible for him to have packed more experiences and adventures into a single lifetime and that he has now completed his journey, that if and when I missed him I should only focus on the countless good times and abundance of great experiences we had, which by far exceeded what most humans could ever hope to extract from one life.

So much for the memories, images and “Anton movies” in my head. I want to also reflect on the more serious dimensions of Anton’s life.

Anton loved taking calculated risks. He often said that facing and conquering risk made him feel alive and good to be breathing. He also said that, in assessing risk, one should be prepared for the worst and that -if the worst would eventuate – it would then turn out to be a great experience. In his prime, Anton was without any doubt the person with the most instinctive and keenest sense of situational awareness I ever came across. He saw the pawpaw approaching the fan way before anybody else did.

This well-developed sense of adventure, coupled with his infectious sense of humour and inquisitive mind, could easily cause people who didn’t know Anton to brand him as all action, fun-loving and politically incorrect, but with little substance. However, for those of us who scratched below the surface and really got to know him, Anton’s essence and values far surpassed any initial impression of an Afro-Italian stallion or action man superficially goofing around the southern tip of Africa.

So, what do I see as the substance, the deeper meaning and the legacy which Anton leaves to those who love him and wish to remember him for who he really was? These are the “Anton truths” which stand out for me:-

• Always aim to make people laugh as much as possible. It is probably the greatest gift you can hand out to anyone. And have as much fun as you can, which is what you owe to yourself.

• Do not be blinded or influenced by size, fame, wealth, bling or beauty and treat all of humankind the same.

• Always be your authentic self and speak your mind fearlessly and without favour in all places and to all people, across every walk of life. This is what it means to live an integrated life. Integrity also means to do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

• Find joy in simple things, like a braai with friends, a little siesta in the afternoon, a well-kept herb garden, a really sun ripe tomato or a basic pasta dish with no trimmings. And plenty of good red wine.
• Despite a reputation of being frugal, money and things material meant very little to Anton. He put relationships first and was blindly and unconditionally loyal to those he considered his friends. I always knew that Anton’s assistance was only a phone call away and many of his friends lived with the same assurance. Anton also helped and guided many youngsters over the years, as his own children, and adopted sons, like Thomas Shields, Thomas Pretorius, Jonathan Barnard and Keegan Welken, will all profess. I, too, was the beneficiary of him helping people who were just starting out in life.

I was quite anxious to travel to Mexico for my brother’s 50th at a time that Anton was nearing the end. I discussed this dilemma with him and Anton’s usual sober logic came through clearly when he told me not to be an idiot, that he was at peace and ready to go, that we had shared all the adventures and good times that we could possibly have hoped for and that it was far more important for me to spend time with my brother and the rest of my family, with whom I will continue on life’s journey.

He also said that him dying was no big deal, that he had all the care and love he needed until he moved on to the happy hunting grounds in the heavens, that we are all heading in that direction and that a person who lives life as if he or she is immortal is a complete “doos” in his view. Which was even more reason why, despite his terminal illness, he wanted me to spend as much time as possible with my family.

And for me that was and remains the brilliance of Anton the man. His almost dispassionate ability to see things clearly for what they really are, made him at times unplayable, but a very valuable and steadfast ally to those he loved and to all his friends in need.

I finished this tribute and reflections in the courtyard garden of Frida Kahlo’s “Blue House” in Mexico City. The interior garden of the house of this famous Mexican artist would have pleased Anton. It is simple, beautiful, tranquil and peaceful. The way I believe this life ended for Anton.

Go well, my soulmate, until we meet again. And thank you for always leading the way with clarity when it really mattered, such as now. I will love you in this life and whatever comes next.