BIG READ: SA’s first Rugby World Cup and getting gifts from Louis Luyt

By 1990, the economy was in full-blown recession. The markets were nervous, as it was evident that huge change was on the horizon in SA.

Meetings were held in Harare between the government, big business and the ANC. For years, SA had been isolated from the world by economic sanctions due to the evils of apartheid. When we travelled abroad, we were often treated with contempt. White South Africans were pariahs.

Backed by the mantra “Free Mandela”, there was enormous pressure on the SA government to unban the ANC and free its leader, Nelson Mandela. PW Botha, the state president until FW de Klerk took over, had been archaic in his thinking and only isolated our country further with his infamous, myopic Rubicon speech, which was pilloried by the world media.

It was clearly time for a change. When De Klerk came onto the scene, it was his conviction that apartheid had to end. Discussions regarding the transfer of power took place with Mandela and the ANC. Instrumental in these talks were Roelf Meyer for the government and Cyril Ramaphosa for the ANC. The two seemed to hit it off, so real negotiations began.

While scores of affluent white people were leaving the country in search of greener pastures, fearful that they would be targeted by the incoming ANC, many of us stayed. The property market remained in the doldrums, unsure of what the change in government would herald.

On February 2 1990, De Klerk went against the grain of most of his NP colleagues and made the historic announcement that the ANC was to be unbanned.

Anxiety prevailed among many white people, as the ANC and Mandela had been utterly demonised ever since I could remember. A week later, on February 11, Nelson Mandela was released after being incarcerated for 27 years.

We were all glued to our TV screens as he walked out of Victor Verster prison with his wife, Winnie, at his side. At Cape Town’s Grand Parade, outside the city hall, he delivered his first speech as a free person.

We were spellbound, and although he made no bones about the implications of apartheid and the struggles that lay ahead, it felt like he wanted peace above all and that there would be a future for everyone in the new SA.

Now Mandela and key players in the ANC were suddenly given media time. This was the first time most of the white population was exposed to the swart gevaar, a term used in apartheid propaganda by the Nats. Many were surprised by the graciousness of Mandela, who had immense character and won over many doubters in no time at all with his charm and compassion. Of course, I was immensely relieved when the property market reacted favourably and began to tick up.

As predicted, the ANC came into power in 1994 after a historic and surprisingly peaceful democratic election. Mandela was inaugurated as president, with many other heads of state in attendance.

Euphoria prevailed throughout the country, but the coup de grace was the Rugby World Cup match in 1995. The final between the Springboks and All Blacks was held at Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg.

The stadium was owned by Louis Luyt, also known as the “fertiliser king”. Iconic pictures were taken of Mandela and Luyt, the then chair of Rugby SA, sitting side by side in the VIP box. I attended the game with my two sons, Barak and Saul. We sat high up in the sunny stands on the eastern side of the stadium.

When the Boks came onto the field, Luyt introduced Madiba to the team, and our new president warmly greeted each player. In his wisdom, Mandela pulled off the biggest coup by wearing the number six jersey and cap of François Pienaar, the SA rugby captain. By this simple gesture he unified all of SA, even if it was only for a day.

The atmosphere was scintillating. It got to fever pitch when, right in the midst of the nail-biting finish, in the dying moments of extra time, Joel Stransky kicked the winning penalty. The crowd erupted with unbridled joy.

When Mandela appeared on the field in his green and gold jersey and cap to present the trophy to Pienaar and the Boks, it was euphoric mayhem. It was the most emotional scene I had ever witnessed in my life. We all walked out of the stadium on a total high. I will never forget that day.

Luyt and Madiba faced one another again three years later, but this time there was no atmosphere of World Cup joy. Their meeting took place in a court case brought about by Luyt, who wanted to retain white domination over rugby.

The background to this legal fiasco was that Luyt had been asked to attend a presidential commission into SA rugby but refused to participate. Madiba had approved the commission, which was to investigate alleged racism and nepotism in the game, overseen by Steve Tshwete, the then minister of sport. Luyt accused Tshwete of having a personal vendetta against him and ended up taking Madiba to court.

Somehow he managed to have Mandela subpoenaed to take the witness stand, by accusing the president of not properly considering the arguments for Tshwete’s commission. Luyt argued that Mandela had simply rubber-stamped the minister’s decision to investigate rugby.

Before taking the stand at the Pretoria high court, Mandela told the media that his “blood boiled” at being forced into the chamber to be grilled about his decision to set up the commission to investigate rugby — the game Luyt was accused of operating like a personal fiefdom.

The case went on for months. This angered the nation. The media crucified Luyt, labelling him an arrogant, bombastic racist who belonged to the old regime. He was demolished in the local and international press and undoubtedly came off second-best in the public eye.

I was thus totally caught by surprise when Louis Luyt’s PA [personal assistant] called me to say that her boss wanted me to sell his property in Saxonwold, Johannesburg. I genuinely thought I was going to meet an ogre.

I set up an appointment with Louis and asked my agent, Beverly Gurwitz, to come along. I was filled with trepidation, debating whether I even wanted to take on the property because of this man’s odious reputation. There could be fallout and potential brand damage to Lew Geffen Estates. Nevertheless, we went.

A giant of a man greeted us at the door. Luyt was at least 6’6” tall [about 2m] and appeared to be just as wide. It was like shaking hands with a huge bear. He was unexpectedly polite and mild-mannered as he led a tour of the once lavish house that was badly in need of upgrading.

After the inspection, we were invited to the lounge and offered tea. Louis then asked, “What do you think, Mr Geffen?”

I gave the standard sales spiel and asked for a sole mandate, expecting the usual resistance. I was thrown off guard when he said, “No problem, let me sign.”

I didn’t know whether to celebrate or commiserate. It could turn out to be a big mistake, but we signed the agreement. He gave me carte blanche with parameter advertising, meaning we could test the market with different prices to discover the real market price. (This is often a point of resistance with clients.) He walked us to my car and gave me a case of wine. I was flabbergasted, to say the least.

A few months went by without any results. Then I got the dreaded call from his PA. “Dr Luyt would like to see you this afternoon at his office at Ellis Park Stadium at 2pm.”

“Aha,” I said to myself. “Here come problems.” Beverly and I were led to his office suite by security. We were ushered in to sit on a floral settee in the corner of the biggest office I have seen to date. The setting was surreal.

We were offered tea in a dainty tea set, and then Luyt appeared. I felt like a dwarf. After some polite chitchat he turned to me. “This is it,” I thought. “Here comes the bomb.”

Then, in the most serious of tones, he quietly said, “Mr Geffen, do you think I should tile my bathrooms?”

With my heart and head racing in unison, it took me a while to answer. The fact was that the house was a grand dame, and tiling the bathrooms would be equivalent to putting rouge on a wrinkled, 85-year-old face.

I then said in a serious tone, “Dr Luyt, I would not recommend tiling the bathrooms. The house is beautiful as it is.”

The frown on his face disappeared immediately. In the politest of tones, he said, “Thank you, Mr Geffen. I appreciate you coming here.”

We left his office and held ourselves together until we closed the doors of my car — only to roar with laughter for at least three minutes before driving off. What an anticlimax!

To cut a long story short, it took six long months to sell Louis Luyt’s property. It was finally bought by a church group for much less than the asking price. There is a saying in real estate: expect the unexpected. This was a case in point. When the sale came through, I received another case of wine.

• ‘Soul Mandate’ is published by NB publishers