Tribute from Kris

“Lessons from Jonny”

I met Jonny, then known to me as Mr. Webb, during my first saxophone lesson at Mill Hill County High School in September 1996.

By my second lesson, I had already asked him, “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Little did I know that this crazy man would be responsible for one of the most significant friendships in my life.

His room

Jonny’s teaching room was a unique place at Mill Hill County – or indeed at any school. From the outside, it looked every bit like a music lesson room – but upon closer inspection, there were plenty of clues that it was actually a lunatic asylum for secondary school pupils.

Pupils of his would frequently visit his room between lessons, at lunch, or after school, to say hello, or call him an idiot, or throw a cuddly toy at his head – or usually all three. Lunchtimes were all-out chaos, and after-school was downright anarchy.

To me though, spending time in lessons or just hanging out with Jonny felt like being part of a wonderful social club, one for misfits and musicians, all who were drawn towards his mad personality and funny teaching style. Jonny could connect with people and create friendships like few others can, and that was especially true when it came to young people. If you became friends with Jonny, it was likely to be a friendship for life. And his quirky teaching style often resulted in a deep appreciation of music, and inspired so many pupils to pursue music after leaving school.

More importantly, I think Jonny showed kids that they can be themselves, and that they should never lose their sense of silliness, nor take themselves too seriously. Jonny fostered fun, and through music, he taught self-esteem.

Laughing with him

Jonny’s sense of humour was dripping with irony, and witheringly self-deprecating.

Jonny was godfather to our daughter Clarissa, now aged 3. Jonny frequently remarked that it was nice to have a goddaughter who was of a similar mental age to him.

As well as music, Jonny taught pupils lots about humour. His year-7 curriculum contained comedic basics – such as the fact that there was something fundamentally funny about goats, baboons, gerbils and hyenas. By my third sax lesson, he had taught me how to say “The monkey is in the tree” – in French. In lesson four, he told me about his life’s goal to “Teach gerbils how to play underwater snooker”. It was all pure madness, and I couldn’t believe that anything in a school could be so fun.

Life goals

But aside from making people laugh, Jonny did have very ambitious life goals. For years he had talked obsessively of dedicating his life to helping young people who had health or social difficulties. He saw a part of himself in children who needed help, and he always wanted to be of service to others.

Due to the wonderful gift he had of communicating with kids, there is no doubt that he would have achieved his goals as a social worker if he’d been given more time.

However, there are many who would agree that he completed twenty-three years of social work in his role as a music teacher.

His game

All these noble acts aside, Jonny would have killed me if he knew I’d have given this speech and not mentioned what was in his opinion his greatest life achievement: His Real Madrid football team in FIFA, the video game.

For years, Jonny bored me, and I’m sure many others, with the details of his football team’s players, transfers, wins and defeats. So there you go, Jonny: your FIFA team has finally achieved the public recognition you so obviously thought it deserved.

Struggle

Of course, playing and talking about FIFA was a form of therapy for Jonny. And it’s no secret that he battled some serious mental demons over the years. Jonny was prone to wonderful highs – and crushing lows. The lows brought on short periods of terrible darkness, and required enormous strength to overcome. And overcome them he did – time and time again. During his days as an amateur boxer, he used to call himself ‘The Warrior’, and never was this a more fitting nickname than when he battled his mental health issues like a real heavyweight champion.

A sportsman

Jonny was also physically tough, and an enthusiastic sportsman. When it came to his boxing training, Jonny trained hard for many months as an aspiring amateur boxer. He enjoyed training on the pads and the bag at the gym, but when it came to actually fighting someone, he found he was unable to do so. He confessed, “I quite like getting hit in the face, actually. But I feel bad for the other guy when I hit him.” Jonny was always too nice!

As was typical for Jonny, he jumped between obsessions when it came to sports. He went through a road cycling phase. One time, he was knocked off his bike by a car pulling out of a driveway. Jonny picked himself up, walked over to the car, whose driver exclaimed, “Oh my god! Are you alright??”. Jonny replied in a daze, “Yeah, are you alright?” He really was just too nice.

I think that’s why when Jonny took up running, it seemed to be a much better fit for him. He enjoyed the simple, solitary nature of training. Every year, Jonny ran literally thousands of kilometres. Despite that, he always refused to spend money on running gear, so instead, he wore every-day clothing, until it completely fell apart. His latest pair of budget running shoes had three-thousand kilometres on them, and they were still going strong – if by strong, you mean that his toes were poking out the top, and were tied together with an old sock.

That said, in 2013 Jonny ran and finished a 30 mile race – and despite him being unable to walk for a week afterwards, it was a very proud moment for him.

As we’ve seen, throughout his life, Jonny was an avid football player. He donned the number 10 shirt for our 5aside football team. Being somewhat less nimble than his younger self, his trademark footballing move was a slide tackle that was so illegal that it would cause referees to blush. And his unorthodox playing style was not only inflicted on opposition teams; during practice and warm-up, he would intentionally slide tackle members of his own team – just for the sheer fun of it.

The Musician

It is, of course, impossible to talk about Jonny without talking about music.

Jonny was a world-class musician. He often said that he was never happier or more contented than when he was sat at the piano. He had a mastery of the saxophone that is difficult to describe. He could make the instrument bend to his will, and create sounds that I never heard anyone else create. He truly made the instrument sing. I always wished I could play the sax half as well as Jonny.

And his musical talent didn’t stop at playing – he also enjoyed composing throughout his life. Listen to some of those recordings here. Sadly, and unsurprisingly for Jonny, he never got round to writing down, let alone recording, many of his works.

Jonny’s rebellious streak also came out through his music. Years ago, Jonny gained employment as an organist in a traditional English church. He didn’t appreciate the repetitive nature of the job, so one day he decided to add his own personal touch to the first hymn of the service. He maxed out the volume on the bass pedals and hit the first note as loud as he possibly could. As he described it, the church nearly fell down. For some reason, he was never asked to return.

A friend

Losing Jonny hurts so much for so many people. I personally feel incredibly lucky to have known him, and to have spent so many years laughing with him.

Jonny had endless talents, and accomplished much in the world. But more than anything, he will be missed as a friend — as somebody to pass the time with. His friendship was his presence, and more than anything, I will miss simply talking to him, being silly, forgetting everything for a while, laughing with him, and sharing in his wonderful world, where the only important thing was to always be yourself.

Post-script: My letter to Jonny

Hey dude,

I always told you that you touched the lives of so many, including mine, but you never really believed it. You never realised the legacy that you had created, and continued to create – nor how much better the world was with you in it. If only you really knew, you would have been so proud.

I’m so proud of you for battling your illness for so long. I feel so sorry that you had to struggle as you did. You didn’t deserve it. You were so strong. I wish there was a way that you could have been relieved of the pain, but have remained with us. It just isn’t fair. Life isn’t the same without you! But even with all you went through, you still managed to be a best friend to so many people, and to improve the lives of others so much.

I wish Clarissa could get to know you as she grows up, but the three and a half years she spent getting to know you was a joy for her, and a joy for us to watch. She still always asks about you. She has “teddy” and “stripy horse” which you gave her – they are still her favourites. Thank you for being her godfather. Your memory will live on in our family forever, and Clarissa will hear no end of stories about you! Especially the ones where you did or said something stupid – i.e. most of them.

We all miss you so much.

Thank you, Jonny. Thank you, dude.

Goodbye, dude xx

Love from, Kris/dude, Leticia & Clarissa xx