A Tribute to Angela Mortimer Barrett MBE

The International Club of Great Britain and the whole IC Community were saddened to learn of the death of one of their honorary members, Angela Mortimer Barrett MBE, who died in the early hours of Monday 25 August, aged 93.

A member of the IC of GB since 1978, Angela and her husband John have always been staunch supporters of the International Club.

Angela received the IC of GB Sportsmanship Award in 2015, an honour which was richly deserved and most appropriate. Angela was always a great IC supporter, particularly alongside her husband, John, who was the IC of GB Chairman for 11 years from 1983 until 1994, Deputy President from 1995 to 2004 and President from 2004 to 2008.

Angela was often at John's side at many IC events – most recently at The IC of GB Centenary held at The All England Club in August 2024.

Angela was always the most unassuming, charming and cheerful character, who added warmth to every occasion and we know that the IC was a very important part of her life. We feel very privileged to have known Angela and are sure that is the case for so many IC members. She will be sorely missed, but very fondly remembered.

The following is an extract from the AELTC Club newsletter:

During her career, Angela won three Grand Slam singles titles, and one doubles title. She achieved all this despite facing significant periods of adversity.

Florence Angela Margaret Mortimer was born on 21 April 1932 in Plymouth. She was the second Wimbledon singles champion to be born in the town, following the 1905 and 1907 champion, May Sutton.

Mortimer took up tennis comparatively late, at the age of 14. When she first visited the courts at the Palace Hotel in Torquay she was turned away by the renowned coach, Arthur Roberts, who told her she was too old and not good enough. However, demonstrating the determination and self-belief that would define her career, the young Mortimer refused to take no for an answer, practising for hours every day against a wall, before Roberts finally relented and agreed to coach her.

Mortimer’s single-mindedness and dedication saw her progress steadily and she made her first appearance at The Championships in 1951. The following year she reached the quarter-finals of the US National Championships, a run she repeated at Wimbledon in 1953 and 1954.

In 1955 she won her first significant senior title at the British Hard Court Championships in Bournemouth and she followed this up with victory at the 1955 French Championships, her first Grand Slam title. In a marathon final, she defeated Dorothy Knode 2-6, 7-5, 10-8. She later recounted how, at eight games all in the final set, she knew she had the upper hand when she heard her opponent asking for a brandy.

Her victory was all the more remarkable as she was increasingly affected by hearing loss, something which would affect her for the rest of her life. Characteristically, she tried to take some positives from her condition, crediting it for her outstanding powers of concentration and ability to tune out extraneous noise.

Mortimer’s deafness also proved beneficial in her doubles partnership with Anne Shilcock. The latter had a habit of annoying some partners by continually commenting and issuing instructions throughout a match. Mortimer, however, was untroubled by this as she could not hear anything Shilcock said. Their partnership peaked with victory in an all-British ladies’ doubles final at Wimbledon in 1955, against Shirley Bloomer and Pat Ward. However, there was disappointment in the singles, with Mortimer losing in the second round to Suzy Kormoczy of Hungary.

Over the next few years, Mortimer was afflicted by recurrent bouts of illness, although she did reach a second final at Roland-Garros in 1956, losing to Althea Gibson, and another quarter-final at Wimbledon the same year. She was eventually diagnosed with Entamoebic Dysentery, which was only cured by a three-week starvation diet that caused her to lose a huge amount of weight and left her extremely weak. Mortimer initially feared that she would never again compete at the top level. However, when she did return it was with a renewed love of the game, having discarded the terror of losing she had previously always felt.

Her comeback began with a tour to Australia in 1958, which culminated in a second Grand Slam title at the Australian Championships, where she defeated Lorraine Coghlan in the final. She came close to winning the ‘triple crown’ but lost in the final of both the ladies’ doubles (with Coghlan) and the mixed doubles (with Peter Newman).

Later that year, Mortimer had a breakthrough performance at Wimbledon when, despite being unseeded, she reached the final. She lost to Gibson once again but she remains one of only five unseeded women to reach the final.

Following two further quarter-final defeats in 1959 and 1960, Mortimer’s chances of ever winning Wimbledon seemed slim. Just a few weeks before The Championships 1961, they seemed even slimmer, as she was barely able to hold her racket due to a bout of tennis elbow. However, a cortisone injection enabled her to compete and, unburdened by the high expectations of previous years (having been overtaken in the British rankings by Christine Truman and Ann Haydon), she progressed through the draw without losing a set until the final.

In the semi-finals she upset the top seed Sandra Reynolds of South Africa 11-9, 6-3, to set up the first all-British final since 1914, against Christine Truman. When Truman led 6-4, 4-3, it looked as if she, rather than Mortimer, would become the first British champion since Dorothy Round in 1937.

However, as had often happened in their previous encounters, Mortimer tenaciously turned the tide. On this occasion, the momentum shifted when Truman fell while holding a break point for a 5-3 lead. The rest of the match was close-fought but Mortimer now had the initiative and ultimately prevailed 4-6, 6-4, 7-5. She had finally achieved her life’s ambition.

Later the same year, Mortimer reached the semi-finals of the US Championships, her best performance at that event. Her defence of her Wimbledon title the following year was ended in the fourth round by Vera Sukova and she retired from singles play shortly afterwards. Fittingly, her final singles title came at the 1962 Torquay Open, where she beat Ann Haydon Jones in the final.

Her autobiography, aptly titled My Waiting Game, was published in 1962. The book described how she had achieved her ultimate goal through patience, dedication and application and ‘Without histrionics, frilly panties or becoming involved in the social tennis whirl’. Always preferring shorts to skirts or dresses, she repeatedly declined offers from the legendary dress designer Ted Tinling, until he agreed to compromise and design a pair of shorts for her. She later joined Tinling’s staff.

Mortimer continued competing in doubles, including several appearances at The Championships alongside her husband, the fellow British player John Barrett MBE. Their best result was a quarter-final place in 1966. The couple had been married in 1967, the same year that Mortimer was awarded an MBE in the New Year’s Honours List.

Mortimer and Barrett had known each other since their days on the junior circuit, but their early interactions did not indicate any possibility of romance. Barrett once told the story of the time he was asked to manage the British Wightman Cup team for their annual ladies’ match against the USA. Travelling to the US on the ocean liner Mauritania, the team attended a dance one evening. Not one to have favourites, Barrett asked each of the team, in turn, to dance with him. Whilst the others all accepted, when it came to Mortimer’s turn, she simply told him, ‘I don’t dance!’ Nevertheless, romance did slowly develop, and they were married at St. Mary’s Church, Wimbledon, just around the corner from their beloved All England Club, in 1967. They had a son, Michael, a trademark lawyer, and a daughter, Sarah Jane, who worked in publishing. Her husband and both children, as well as four grandchildren, survive her.

Between 1964 and 1970, Mortimer served as Great Britain’s Wightman Cup captain. She led the team to one win, in 1968.

She was inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame in 1993 and when her husband was inducted 21 years later, for his contributions as a player, coach, broadcaster and writer, they became the second married couple to achieve the distinction, following Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi.

Abe Segal

My Friend Abe. by Gordon Forbes.

Abe died in Cape Town on the night of 4th April 2016, with his devoted friend, Deborah Curtis Setchell, at his bedside.  Abe and I met 63 years ago in the locker-room of the Ellis Park tennis courts, when he came over to my corner and chided me for being too quiet.  ’Don’t they make noise on that farm of yours, Kid?’  I was 19 and he 22, and we have been friends and doubles partners ever since.  There’ll never be another Abe. They talk of breaking the mould, well, his mould was well and truly broken!  Such a good man.  Generous, forthright, strong, big-hearted, loyal, compassionate – a rough diamond, with the diamond part flawless, and the rough part filled with the unique kind of humour that made his friends laugh in amazement, while at the same time shaking their heads at the fun of it! 

 
Only a few weeks ago, on a still evening in Plettenberg Bay, we sat together, looking at the sea, yakking away, and sipping the whiskies that Tony Bloom had poured for us.  Lately, we’ve talked nearly every week, being able to say the same things more than once, because we both forgot what we said the week before.  Suddenly, though, this time, towards the end of the evening, he touched his glass to mine and said, ‘Cheers, Forbsey.  We’ve had a great time, but the game’s over.  Thanks for everything.’   Maybe he had some kind of premonition, for I know he wasn’t feeling well....  But he never complained.  In all the time I have known Abe, I have never, ever, heard him complain. Not once.  And he was thanking me!  I ask you!  It was I who should have....
 
He was a great tennis-player, was Abe.  Look at his results over the years, and one is fully amazed!   For a start, he had one of the best left-hand serves of all time – fine volleys, safe backhand and a huge forehand that sometimes went off at a tangent and ran amuck.  I still remember the time at Roland Garros when he hit a forehand into the President’s Box without a bounce.  It hit one of the officials in the chest, while the base-linesman triumphantly called “Out”!  Or the time, on the Wimbledon Centre Court, playing Rex Hartwig, when Rex tried to run around his serve to hit a forehand. The ball simply followed him, until he had to catch it with his left hand, in front of his chest.  Abe’s serve used to swerve like mad, especially the second one.  And what about the lineswoman at Wimbledon who had too much wine for lunch and was asleep when Abe, playing Clark Graebner, won the match-point?  ‘Clark’s game is kinda boring, Forbsey,’ he told me.  ‘So I guess she’s entitled to take a nap.’  Odd things happened to Abe almost continually – things that never failed to amuse the millions of people all over the world that loved him.
 
For instance, suddenly, aged sixty-nine, he became a painter, surprising everyone (including himself) when his paintings were exhibited at The Everard Read Gallery.  Even here, Abe was unorthodox.  Always impatient, he’d invented a way of turning his canvasses upside down, so as to do his skies without disturbing the still wet scenery below.  Although, in my speech, I warned the Read Gallery patrons that the skies on the paintings were all upside down, they bought every last one.   ‘A sky’s a sky, Forbsey,’ was Abe’s comment.  ‘I’ve never seen one with a lable sayin’ “this side up.”     
 
Thus Abie. I could go on and on, and I am sure that I speak also for his daughters, Nancy and Susie, his wonderful wife, Heather, who died some years ago, and his friend, companion and helpmate, Deborah.  I can’t believe I’ll never hear his voice again.  Never again have him walk across the court to my side, cup his hand and say,  ‘for God’s sake, Forbsey, can you please stop bein’ nervous, grip your racket and watch the friggin’ ball!’  A part of my life, and, I am sure, a good many other lives, will go with Abe.  We wish him a good rest, and salute him for a game well played, and a life well lived.