Remembering Martin - A Video Tribute, by Michael Hodgeson-Hess
October 22, 2019
https://vimeo.com/366128310
Password: Austin
Password: Austin
A friend for life, by John Waters
October 21, 2019
From the first days of meeting Martin at Kings Court Primary School in Old Windsor, 1961,
I knew he was someone who I wanted to be friends with. We spent ages building Chuckabooms, our rolling building block invention and generally creating mayhem.
He was always kind, thoughtful, and loved squeaking our teddy bears in the silent moments of the school nativity plays in his many mischievous ways.
As we progressed through the Kings Court years, he became this intelligent, very tall, blondkid who was top of the class and commanded such a strong presence on the football field that he became such a popular and idolised individual.
I was mad on cricket and I remember on our many teas round our parents houses, ah those fish fingers/ sausage rolls beans and chips with masses of bread and butter were simply the best, Martin said if I wanted to get into the football side I should know all the positions and helped me so much with that.
He was always calm and always knew the answers to things and he rarely lost his temperunless absolutely pushed, especially when he wasn’t allowed out to play if he hadn’t finished his homework or indoor chores. We would always laugh about it afterwards.
Peggy and John, his parents, always made me very welcome as well as their crazy lovely dog, Dusty. His brother, Michael had all the Beatles singles and we would try to play as many as we could before he came home. He always knew and told us off, happy memories.
We were in the cubs and scouts together and I remember one occasion where we had to perform at the local village Memorial Hall as tiller girls doing the can can. It was so funny we even got called back for an encore.
By 1967 we had parted school ways, with Martin and our close friends passing the 11 plusexam and going to Windsor Grammar School. This is where Martins love of Rugby began as they never played football there, although we did end up playing for Windsor RoversFootball side which included a lot of our pals from Kings Court.
Martin gave me the confidence to start playing football and I became very good playing for 3 teams at Trevelyan Secondary Modern School and ended up as House Captain and Head Boy. Something had rubbed off, for sure.
That fantastic and oh so special night in May 1968, when Martin asked me if I wanted to come and watch the European Cup Final at Wembley, to see the great Manchester United take on the Portuguese might, Benfica. The chance to see my all time top footballer, George Best, was a crazy schoolboy dream and here was I, the envy of my class mates.
It truly was a magical evening, an incredible experience, one I will treasure and never forgetand when Martin sent me, recently, the original programme from that game, 51 years ago, the memories came flooding back and I truly felt so humble, sad, elated. We were 12, again. It was such a heartfelt gesture.
After Windsor Boys, Martins rise in the business and Rugby World was amazing and although it is natural to lose contact as you grow and develop it was always wonderful to meet up when we could and the beauty of any meeting was he had not changed and was the polite respectful true fun friend he always was.
I am so glad and proud and lucky to have been part of some of his life and to meet him again in April this year was so special. It gave me such a buzz when I saw this Big Guy walking towards me, always with a warm embrace and smile.. we ate Croque Monsieur had some teaand talked the world over. . He was always interested in my family, my son, Scott and daughter Stephanie and how they were doing. My only regret, we didn’t spend more time together that day, but know he was feeling tired.
He spoke so wonderfully of his life in Austin, his family, his rock and the love he showed me that day was a testimony to this beautiful, charismatic man.
I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see Martin and when I received the message from Tina that fateful, Sunday 6th October, I felt devastated . It was so cruel to hear of him so broken, yet he had found peace away from the pain. I had to get out and walked for hours. I am so glad he had his family’s natural strength courage love and support around him.
He found so much happiness. True happiness, and that’s what he gave to so many people
and I was fortunate enough to be one of them.
I knew he was someone who I wanted to be friends with. We spent ages building Chuckabooms, our rolling building block invention and generally creating mayhem.
He was always kind, thoughtful, and loved squeaking our teddy bears in the silent moments of the school nativity plays in his many mischievous ways.
As we progressed through the Kings Court years, he became this intelligent, very tall, blondkid who was top of the class and commanded such a strong presence on the football field that he became such a popular and idolised individual.
I was mad on cricket and I remember on our many teas round our parents houses, ah those fish fingers/ sausage rolls beans and chips with masses of bread and butter were simply the best, Martin said if I wanted to get into the football side I should know all the positions and helped me so much with that.
He was always calm and always knew the answers to things and he rarely lost his temperunless absolutely pushed, especially when he wasn’t allowed out to play if he hadn’t finished his homework or indoor chores. We would always laugh about it afterwards.
Peggy and John, his parents, always made me very welcome as well as their crazy lovely dog, Dusty. His brother, Michael had all the Beatles singles and we would try to play as many as we could before he came home. He always knew and told us off, happy memories.
We were in the cubs and scouts together and I remember one occasion where we had to perform at the local village Memorial Hall as tiller girls doing the can can. It was so funny we even got called back for an encore.
By 1967 we had parted school ways, with Martin and our close friends passing the 11 plusexam and going to Windsor Grammar School. This is where Martins love of Rugby began as they never played football there, although we did end up playing for Windsor RoversFootball side which included a lot of our pals from Kings Court.
Martin gave me the confidence to start playing football and I became very good playing for 3 teams at Trevelyan Secondary Modern School and ended up as House Captain and Head Boy. Something had rubbed off, for sure.
That fantastic and oh so special night in May 1968, when Martin asked me if I wanted to come and watch the European Cup Final at Wembley, to see the great Manchester United take on the Portuguese might, Benfica. The chance to see my all time top footballer, George Best, was a crazy schoolboy dream and here was I, the envy of my class mates.
It truly was a magical evening, an incredible experience, one I will treasure and never forgetand when Martin sent me, recently, the original programme from that game, 51 years ago, the memories came flooding back and I truly felt so humble, sad, elated. We were 12, again. It was such a heartfelt gesture.
After Windsor Boys, Martins rise in the business and Rugby World was amazing and although it is natural to lose contact as you grow and develop it was always wonderful to meet up when we could and the beauty of any meeting was he had not changed and was the polite respectful true fun friend he always was.
I am so glad and proud and lucky to have been part of some of his life and to meet him again in April this year was so special. It gave me such a buzz when I saw this Big Guy walking towards me, always with a warm embrace and smile.. we ate Croque Monsieur had some teaand talked the world over. . He was always interested in my family, my son, Scott and daughter Stephanie and how they were doing. My only regret, we didn’t spend more time together that day, but know he was feeling tired.
He spoke so wonderfully of his life in Austin, his family, his rock and the love he showed me that day was a testimony to this beautiful, charismatic man.
I didn’t know that would be the last time I would see Martin and when I received the message from Tina that fateful, Sunday 6th October, I felt devastated . It was so cruel to hear of him so broken, yet he had found peace away from the pain. I had to get out and walked for hours. I am so glad he had his family’s natural strength courage love and support around him.
He found so much happiness. True happiness, and that’s what he gave to so many people
and I was fortunate enough to be one of them.
SLAGS – A Celebration of a Great Life, by Chris Farrell
October 7, 2019
“Friendship...is not something you learn in school, but if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship you really haven't learned anything.” Oscar Wilde
I first encountered Martin on 2nd November 1981 when I transferred as a Xerox salesman to London to join a newly formed sales district created with a newly appointed Sales Manager named Martin Slagter. In those days people struggled to pronounce his name – was the g silent - as in Slater. By the end of his first year most knew the name well as he was the Number One Sales manager in Xerox UK. For the next 5 years Martin retained that Number One position whilst he changed sales teams and he took a lot of salesman with him hanging on his coat-tails.
I, along with many others, had the great good fortune to hang on his coattails at Xerox and Dell for the next 15 years. I have much to be thankful to Slags for!
We all will die, the goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will – and Slags, you did that!
All cultures have ways of dealing with death. Where I come from In Ireland, Wakes were more of a celebration of the cycle of life and death, than they were an aspect of mourning. Food, tobacco and drink were provided of course, and music, song and storytelling were expected. This would have been right up Slags Strasse!
He liked nothing better than visiting Ireland with its traditions and one of his favourite songs was this one by Luke Kelly (we tried a duet, he & me, badly a few years back after a few in Westport Co. Mayo!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OxmhDuWiEEY
When we convene next we will raise our glasses high and proclaim in Gaelic, sláinte !
Slags was my friend and I miss him but he would not be doing with any sentimentality.
Martin, until we meet again, ma y God bless you and hold you tightly in the palm of His hand.
I first encountered Martin on 2nd November 1981 when I transferred as a Xerox salesman to London to join a newly formed sales district created with a newly appointed Sales Manager named Martin Slagter. In those days people struggled to pronounce his name – was the g silent - as in Slater. By the end of his first year most knew the name well as he was the Number One Sales manager in Xerox UK. For the next 5 years Martin retained that Number One position whilst he changed sales teams and he took a lot of salesman with him hanging on his coat-tails.
I, along with many others, had the great good fortune to hang on his coattails at Xerox and Dell for the next 15 years. I have much to be thankful to Slags for!
We all will die, the goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will – and Slags, you did that!
All cultures have ways of dealing with death. Where I come from In Ireland, Wakes were more of a celebration of the cycle of life and death, than they were an aspect of mourning. Food, tobacco and drink were provided of course, and music, song and storytelling were expected. This would have been right up Slags Strasse!
He liked nothing better than visiting Ireland with its traditions and one of his favourite songs was this one by Luke Kelly (we tried a duet, he & me, badly a few years back after a few in Westport Co. Mayo!)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OxmhDuWiEEY
When we convene next we will raise our glasses high and proclaim in Gaelic, sláinte !
Slags was my friend and I miss him but he would not be doing with any sentimentality.
Martin, until we meet again, ma y God bless you and hold you tightly in the palm of His hand.
October 7, 2019
From Michael & Yvonne Hodgson-Hess
Remember the 1970’s? That’s when Yvonne and I first met Martin, and then Jan, and later on saw Adam and Luke arrive. It was a different century, a world that doesn’t now exist. Martin and I played rugby together (that’s how we met), and for the next 20 years this sport and our club (Richmond) were a huge part of all our lives. Friendships were formed, sporting triumph enjoyed (Kipling’s twin imposter ‘disaster’ was probably the more prevalent, truth be told), our social lives intertwining whilst unseen, adulthood and responsibility coalesced around us, our ambitions seemingly worthy and important, even as we believed our young selves immortal. Until, much later, we had to accept we weren’t. Our journey through this potential vale of tears had us meet many people; with some, like ‘ships in the night’, hulls scrape and you sail on. With others there is that moment, that interlocking when you know you are friends, and so it was with the Slagters. And then they moved to America. Our friendship, our closeness, endured, but now with ‘exotic’ added – well OK, suburban Austin - to the mix. We watched as their young boys became young men, and we saw the pain and yes, anger of divorce, and then Tina entered our lives, she meeting the Martin challenge - difficult enough in itself for goodness sake, without having to manage new home, new family, new friends, and new country – with poise, warmth, grace and skill. And now for one of us, it is the end. We will not allow just the last seven years of Martin’s life frame his story because there is so much more than that. We saw his faults (ours are just as transparent) contained within an amusing, generous, gifted man, at times infuriating but a real person, someone who could only be Martin and nobody else. Our dear friend, central to our lives, has died, and we grieve for him and with his family.
Remember the 1970’s? That’s when Yvonne and I first met Martin, and then Jan, and later on saw Adam and Luke arrive. It was a different century, a world that doesn’t now exist. Martin and I played rugby together (that’s how we met), and for the next 20 years this sport and our club (Richmond) were a huge part of all our lives. Friendships were formed, sporting triumph enjoyed (Kipling’s twin imposter ‘disaster’ was probably the more prevalent, truth be told), our social lives intertwining whilst unseen, adulthood and responsibility coalesced around us, our ambitions seemingly worthy and important, even as we believed our young selves immortal. Until, much later, we had to accept we weren’t. Our journey through this potential vale of tears had us meet many people; with some, like ‘ships in the night’, hulls scrape and you sail on. With others there is that moment, that interlocking when you know you are friends, and so it was with the Slagters. And then they moved to America. Our friendship, our closeness, endured, but now with ‘exotic’ added – well OK, suburban Austin - to the mix. We watched as their young boys became young men, and we saw the pain and yes, anger of divorce, and then Tina entered our lives, she meeting the Martin challenge - difficult enough in itself for goodness sake, without having to manage new home, new family, new friends, and new country – with poise, warmth, grace and skill. And now for one of us, it is the end. We will not allow just the last seven years of Martin’s life frame his story because there is so much more than that. We saw his faults (ours are just as transparent) contained within an amusing, generous, gifted man, at times infuriating but a real person, someone who could only be Martin and nobody else. Our dear friend, central to our lives, has died, and we grieve for him and with his family.