Anthony Mason was only a few weeks from his 101^st birthday when he died. Together with about 300 others, my wife and I attended his funeral at Mosman Village Church – an occasion that recalled a hero’s long and well-lived life.

The sadness as the flower-covered coffin was carried through the church was palpable. An earthly friendship had been extinguished, hopefully to be revived in Elysium.

Sir Anthony’s personality was smooth and easy. His life was a cornucopia of good fortune and professional advancement. A jurist of international stature, he was regarded by many in the law as having achieved an apotheosis.

Over 17 years, we enjoyed numerous cafe meetings and lunches where, often, among many other subjects, we discussed wine appreciation and viticulture. Like Benjamin Franklin, he believed: “Wine proves God loves us.”

Sir Anthony’s wine knowledge was extensive, with particular interest in the wines of Beechworth, Victoria, and the Clare Valley in South Australia, an area he knew well.

His knowledge included significant familiarity with French – particularly Champagne – Spanish and Italian wines. He travelled extensively and had visited several of the wine-producing areas of Europe.     

Anthony Mason was born in 1925, an excellent vintage year in Australia but not in Europe. In that year, Sir Adrian Knox succeeded Sir Samuel Griffith as Chief Justice of the High Court.

In 1951, Max Schubert created the first experimental Grange Hermitage. That year, Mason was called to the NSW Bar.

In 1972, he was appointed to the High Court following the appointment of Sir Ninian Stephen.

It was the year of the great white wine boom in Australia. The decade of the ’70s witnessed the introduction of new oak in the vinification of white wine.

A pioneer of this process was Hunter Valley vigneron Tyrrell’s, with the release of Vat 47 Chardonnay in 1973.    

Mason was appointed Chief Justice in 1987, replacing the gentlemanly Harry Gibbs. That year also saw the brilliant Mary Gaudron QC appointed to the Court. It was the first time the High Court did not have a former politician as one of its members.

I appeared before Sir Anthony numerous times before and after he became Chief Justice. Initially, this was a time when Special Leave Applications were heard by a bench of five bewigged justices and argued as an appeal.

Then came US-style judicial court dress, plus the 20-minute flashing red light to warn counsel that their application before the Court was about to expire.

Today, long after Sir Anthony’s departure from the High Court, “on the papers” Special Leave applications have become a substitute for advocacy.

Café meetings with Mason took place at Le Canard Nue, next to his chambers in Castlereagh Street, Sydney. There I made the acquaintance of his indefatigable secretary, the charming Leila Rudd.

Eventually, he moved to the other end of Castlereagh Street when Sir Gerald Brennan vacated his chambers.

The regular coffee meetings continued in the plaza downstairs. By then, he was using a walking frame and later a wheelchair that I manoeuvred between the tables.

When he left the city, we began to have lunch in Balmoral. These occasions sometimes included Sir Anthony’s former judicial colleagues and a member of the Bar.

The lunches were fixed for Wednesdays as it was the only day the restaurant would allow BYO. It was never more than a single bottle of wine per lunch, although Sir Anthony always started with a glass of champagne.

One lunch stands out because of his amusing account of the time he returned home to find his small Mercedes missing.

His wife explained she had encountered a strange man on the property earlier that day. When the car was located and returned, he noticed that despite several valuable items in the vehicle, the only thing missing was the car’s operating manual.

He thought this curious; however, his forensic mind had the answer.

“Of course. The clever thief wished to be better prepared for the next theft of a Mercedes.”

At this lunch we shared a bottle of wine made when Sir Anthony was 20 years old, a Bordeaux (St Emilion) vintaged in 1945 – l’annee de la victoire. 

The troika vintages ’45,’47 and ’49 represent the last great Bordeaux vintages in France.

The label read Les Fils de George Moro, and we concluded the wine was probably a father’s valediction to his sons lost in the war.

Astonishingly, the wine was in excellent condition.

The end of the war marked great changes in viticulture and wine production in Europe. Tractors replaced horses, bottling machines were introduced, and vineyard workers became employees rather than part of a family estate.

Sir Anthony’s knowledge and appreciation of wine can best be illustrated by the words of the ancient poet, Theognis of Megara.

“But if with knowledge men will drink it, wine’s not so bad as some would think it “   

Adieu, Sir Anthony.

Gabriel Dominicus Wendler
7 Windeyer Chambers, Sydney