Hastings Hotels

<div class="page traditional" style=" background-color: #ffffff; "> <article> <header> <h1 style=" color: #000;">Tribute to Sir William Hastings</h1> </header> <div class="main"> <img src="/uploads/5a60705881fd4.jpg" class="title-pic" alt=""/> The Hastings family have penned this tribute to company founder and Chairman, Sir William (Billy) Hastings who passed away following a short illness on 15th December 2017.A husband, a father, a brother, a grandfather and an uncle. In that role he was a man of many parts. First and foremost, he was a teacher. He was the Dad who taught us to ride our bicycles, no mean feat in the days before stabilisers. He was also the Dad who taught us to swim. He took us to the Inst swimming pool, followed by chips at Stranmillis on the way home. It was the highlight of our week.He was the Dad who was sent to sing us to sleep. For ever etched on our memories are the words to “Good Bye Old Ship of Mine”, and the “Mountains of Mourne - yes, all five verses!He taught us the meaning of fairness. Fairness to each other, and to deal fairly with everyone we met. Each of our achievements was celebrated, however modest, and he contained his indifference at our lack of athletic prowess. He also taught us how to be kind. At our Christmas Dinner table there were always a selection of spinsters and widows whom he could not bear to see spending Christmas Day alone. And later, we learnt from him the value of hard work. He himself had washed glasses from the age of twelve in his father’s pubs. He grew his business leading from the front, with a hands-on approach. Customer service was in his DNA.Despite his superb education at Royal Belfast Academical Institution, in many areas he was self-taught. Architects were amazed at his capacity to read a complex set of drawings, and accountants were impressed at his mental agility with numbers.With Billy, what you saw was what you got. He was straightforward. His pet hate was bluffers, especially the professionally qualified ones. I suppose that was the teacher in him, spotting those who had failed to do their homework. If he was a teacher first and foremost, he was also a creature of habit.There was golf. How he loved it, and his lifelong quest to master the game. His Holy Grail was to find what he described as “The Secret”. It was his weekly escape from work. He learned to play at Mahee Island, where he was Club Captain in 1958. Great delight there was, in peeling the wrapper off a new Dunlop 65 golf ball on the first tee.<img src="/uploads/5a60ae5af3b4b.jpg">Whilst he enjoyed the camaraderie at Royal County Down, he played at Malone Golf Club more than anywhere else. He cherished his 8 o’clock tee off time every Saturday morning, leaving home even earlier than he would on a weekday. He played for a pound, never any more, and for the bragging rights if he won.There were two other habits of note. The first was Coronation Street. He loved it, and on occasion invitations were refused and the telephone left unanswered when there was a particularly gripping episode. The second was the Belfast Telegraph Crossword. We maintained that the award by Ulster University of a Doctorate in Literature would better qualify him for this task. In the event, it was normally his wife Joy who assisted with the more elusive clues. Then there was Church. This may have started as a habit, since he attended twice each Sunday as a child. However, it developed into a deep faith which he cherished, in times both good and bad. Mum and Dad had a fondness for Drumbeg Church where they were married in 1960, and then later for Downpatrick Cathedral, where he now rests. He had the clergy well trained to keep their sermons to eight minutes. However, he often feared theological overload from the pulpit, and so he came armed each week with a pocketful of Brandy Ball sweets.He was never a great fan of that part of the service involving the offering of the Sign of Peace…we think he found it too scripted for his taste, and so once again used this opportunity to dispense boiled sweets to anyone who approached. Needless to say, those in the know formed a queue.There has been much written about his entrepreneurial spirit. Perhaps it was his upbringing in post-war East Belfast. The world seemed a smaller place back then, with less regulation and more opportunities. His earliest business coup was when he sold Ulster Brewery he owned with other publicans to Bass. Then, in the 1970s he purchased the six Ulster Transport Hotels from Grand Metropolitan Hotels. And in 1993 he purchased the Europa Hotel. There was no due diligence, no spreadsheets, no forecasts. The big decisions were as easy for him as the smaller ones. After a couple of sleepless nights contemplating any particular deal, he would assure himself that this was the “right thing to do”. He would agree the price and shake hands, and that was that.Two years later came the opportunity to build the Merrion Hotel in Dublin. And in his 87th year he embarked on the Grand Central Hotel project.He liked being his own boss, however at other times he established partnerships with others who shared his vision for a project. Until his older brother Roy’s untimely death when he was 25, they had enjoyed a great rapport, developing the pub trade together. In outside catering ventures, in businesses in the Isle of Man, and at The Merrion he worked with others.<img src="/uploads/5a60ae700fd57.jpg">Without doubt though, his greatest partnership was with Mum. They met on what we would call today “a blind date”, at a dance on board HMS Caroline. Mum was a former Victoria College Head Girl, and lived on the fashionable Malone Road. He knew he was punching well above his weight when he asked her to marry him.The mutual respect and affection they shared saw them through 57 remarkable years together, and they were a tremendous double act. On several occasions, he was reined in from over-exuberant behaviour by Mum’s one word cry of “Billy!” And when confronted with a tricky question, Dad’s kick-for-touch response was “You’d better ask your Mother"Throughout his life he was definitely what you would call “a joiner”. He enjoyed being in the thick of things. He had lifelong associations with the likes of Dundela Football Club, and Instonians. He was a founder member of East Belfast Rotary Club, and was particularly chuffed to be awarded his Paul Harris fellowship medal at the same time as his rugby idol Jack Kyle.He was an elected member of Belfast City Council, and chaired both the Chamber of Commerce and the Institute of Directors with distinction. He supported very personal, and what some might describe as “less fashionable” charities, such as Crimestoppers, Chest Heart & Stroke, Help the Aged and Men Against Cancer, raising considerable funds for each along the way. In their tributes, so many people have referred to his great energy, and his ever cheerful disposition. We believe that his constant engagement with people was the source of this strength, be it customers, staff, suppliers, and from so many of the people he met on his daily rounds.He particularly enjoyed the company of his grandchildren, watching them grow. His default setting was to tease them without let-up. On the subject of romantic attachments, he would offer consistent advice to each of them. This came in the form of the three-word mantra - “Just Say No” When it came to Food, nobody could deny that Billy knew what he liked. He would never have described himself as a cordon bleu chef, he was more one of the Barbeque Brigade. His palate had a 1970’s feel to it. He could never resist a Chicken Maryland, or a Knickerbocker Glory. He always encouraged his chefs to improve the crispiness of their roast potatoes, or the crustiness of their bread rolls.<img src="/uploads/5a60ae8d7eae3.jpg">Living at Simmy Island since the early 1980s, it is an idyllic place to call “home”, with its views of Strangford Lough. He wasn’t exactly a farmer, but each morning fed his eight chickens and collected their eggs. Peacocks came and went, and the local foxes licked their lips.In the middle of last year, he set up his computer at home, and spent more time at Simmy, watching the field of rapeseed ripen and the seasons change. He knew his illness would not improve, and he fastidiously ensured his affairs were in order so that he would not leave any unfinished business behind. He claimed the hardest job during this period was to give away his golf clubs.About six weeks ago, he visited the Merrion Hotel for the last time. He was in a sunny and nostalgic mood, and as he waited for his guest, the waiter offered him a drink. “A Gin and Tonic” said Dad. “What sort of Gin” enquired the waiter, proffering an extensive list. “A large one” came the reply. Life was for living. The end, when it came, was peaceful. He was in his own home, in his own bed, surrounded by family. It is what he had wished for. Classic FM was playing Christmas Carols in the background. “In the Bleak Midwinter” came on. They say that of all your senses, your hearing is the last to go. In which case it is so fitting that he passed away at the end of the final verse.“What can I give him, Poor as I am?                                                      If I were a shepherd, I would bring a Lamb                                                                                                 If I were a Wise Man, I would do my Part,                                                                                          Yet what I can I give him; give my Heart”A tribute written to the tune of Sir William’s favourite song, the Mountains of Mourne by Percy FrenchTo reflect on our dad many words come to mind Patient, exuberant, funny and kind So great his presence it was safe to assume As he opened the door he would light up the room. Our childhoods, with such great memories he'd often recall Our dad...An inspiration, a legend and gentleman to all. So now he's in heaven but we hope he may be Where the Mountain's of Mourne sweep down to the sea. And finally, and aptly, again from the pen of Percy French:Remember me is all I ask And yet If remembrance prove a task Forget We don't think anyone will ever forget our Dad, Billy Hastings </div> </article> </div>

Share

Crown Online January 2018