Henri Jacques Ninio (1935-2023)
Henri Jacques Ninio passed away in Adelaide on the day before Yom Kippur, a few weeks before his 88th birthday.
Henri Ninio
Henri served two terms as the Lord Mayor of Adelaide having served on the Adelaide City Council between 1983 and 1997.
Henri was born in Cairo, Egypt on the 27th of October, 1935.
He emigrated to Australia in 1956.
Henri and his wife Lynette had three children, Zara, Jacqueline and Daniel and six grandchildren.
Jacqueline is better known as Rabbi Jacki Ninio, well-loved by the members of Sydney’s Emanuel Synagogue.
Jacki delivered the eulogy at her father’s funeral in Adelaide.
It was a warm fitting tribute to the businessman, sportsman, councillor, mayor and outstanding husband, father and grandfather who was Henri Ninio.
Rabbi Jacki Ninio’s words:
HENRI JACQUES NINIO
Aharon ben Ya’kov ve Joya
At Rosh Hashana, just a few days ago we heard the haunting unetaneh tokef prayer: “at Rosh Hashana it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed: who will live and who will die.” At Rosh Hashana, it was written that it was Dad’s time to die, and on Friday, in these powerful days between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, wrapped in the arms of his beloved Lynette, he took his last breath and left this world. This year the shofar called him home and he is now reunited with his mother, brother Albert, beloved uncles and all those waiting to receive him and enfold him in the wings of eternal life. And so today, even though we mourn his death, we also received the incredible gift that his life was to us again, as we remember him in the fullness of his days, his energy, his passion, his creativity and drive, his ability to see opportunities and grasp them with both hands, his generosity, kindness and care. He was a visionary, a dreamer and despite the years of crushing depression, he achieved so much and touched so many lives with his unique Henri magic.
Dad was born in Egypt and lived a rich and wonderful life there in his early years. Living with his brothers, parents, grandmother and aunt, their house was full and the family the centre of all that he did. His father owned a pharmacy and dreamed that one of his sons would qualify as a pharmacist and enter the business. This task fell to Dad. He was intelligent and sharp, he excelled in school and even though he had to skip a year to complete his schooling before the Jewish people would no longer be able to attend that school, he took it in his stride and moved easily on to university. He would have preferred to study medicine, but the responsibility to his father came first.
Dad attended the English Mission College which meant that his English was excellent and his grammar impeccable: (something he always corrected in his native-speaking children and others,) and he could quote large tracts of Bible including the New Testament. This came in handy many years later when he was the Lord Mayor and could pull out Biblical quotes for any occasion and in numerous languages, as he attended church services, community events and functions. He was a hit and at times when he spoke you could see the young boy at school, standing straight, chest out, proudly reciting Bible verses.
Dad was popular, had a wide circle of friends and activities outside school. He was a champion table tennis player, number one in Maccabi, something of which he was very proud and about which he spoke often. He also had medals for playing basketball and soccer which at one time, he also coached. He spent time playing pool, perfecting his game, so that many years later when he bought a table for my grandparents, he was hard to beat. He smashed the balls hard, with his usual confidence, more often than not, potting them in the pocket. He did not hesitate, line up his shot, do any of the preparation you would see on Pot Black, like so many other things in his life he strode up to the table, making his decision as he walked and bam, set the balls in motion. Dad enjoyed the club where the family spent days relaxing, playing sport, swimming and being together. Dad was so close to his brothers and they forged a tight and loving bond in these early years, which continued throughout their lives. David, his younger brother is going to share some words and memories after me.
Dad spent weekends with his beloved uncle Mark who introduced him to opera and took him to the cinema, where he spent hours devouring the latest movies. He loved the classics and could quote tracts of scripts and of course sing all of the songs, loudly and boldly! He had an incredible ear and could mimic almost any voice and style of singing. I used to think it was terrible until I heard the originals and realised that he sang exactly as they did.
Dad learned recorder from his neighbour who taught him to play Sheherezade, which became his party piece. Anyone who visited him in the nursing home in these last years, would have been treated to a rendition of that piece, as well as many others. He played everything by ear and even a few months ago when we were there, we requested songs and he could immediately play them, even as he was slowly retreating from the world. Much to all of our chagrin, he loved to play the recorder, clarinet and his beloved bongo drums. But in truth any surface was a place for percussion and his fingers were constantly drumming out a beat, on the steering wheel, yes while driving, the table, the chair arm, whatever was available at the time. He had wide-ranging tastes in music which did not extend to “that horrible noise” that his children listened to. Our home was always filled with music, opera, Nana Mouskouri, Edith Piaf, there was a soundtrack to life and I think he always heard music even when it was not playing.
Dad was proud to be attending university and he loved the adventure of studying and the freedom of being out of school, but the storm clouds were brewing and he could see the darkness about to engulf the Jews. He spoke often about a night when he was returning home and saw buildings ablaze as the Muslim Brotherhood set fire to houses and shops of those whom they opposed. Dad raced to the home of a friend who was Muslim, knowing he would be safe there. But that, combined with the arrest of members of a youth group he had recently left, helped him to see, the dangers of staying in Egypt.
Dad did not speak often of his years in Egypt except of course, the food, the marron glace and the lentils, which were a small taste of heaven and could never be replicated by anyone. One of his happiest moments when he visited Egypt years later, ironically as Lord Mayor and was received as the prodigal son returning, despite the fact that when they fled his passport was stamped “never to return,” was when he went back to the lentil shop, was recognised by the owner, and served a steaming hot bowl of paradise, lentils with the fried onions on top.
Dad and Albert left Egypt before the rest of the family. Albert by plane to the Melbourne Olympics and then on to see his uncle Gabriel who had made his home in Adelaide. Dad, who was more robust and healthy than Albert, maybe because his mother took him to sleep on the floor of Maimonides’ Synagogue, came by ship. We all imagined his voyage to be the usual refugee story of hardship and struggle but he loved his time travelling to Australia and came first class, meeting new people and beginning his next adventure.
Dad and his brother reconnected and began to establish themselves. Albert went to work to help support them and Dad to university. None of his previous studies were recognised and so he had to begin again. During this time, he met Gretchen who supported him as he studied and they were soon married and they welcomed their daughter Zara. By this time, Dad had completed his degree and was working at Ravisis Pharmacy, one of the first large pharmacies which opened late at night. Dad with his sharp intellect and charm, soon established himself and became manager of the shop.
The pharmacy had a large Italian clientele and Dad, who already spoke a number of languages, taught himself Italian. He was then able to converse with the customers, explain medicines to them and assist in many ways. They came to him with letters, documents, all manner of correspondence which he translated for them and then he helped also writing letters and documents in English. He was always so kind and generous with people, there for them whenever they needed, always willing to assist.
One day he met an Italian man he vaguely knew, in tears because he could not pay for his daughter’s wedding. Without hesitation, Dad handed over $1,000 and told him not to tell anyone. Dad supported every single cause, bought items at every fundraiser, he was the best customer. Whenever he attended an event, he returned with something new he had bought. It gave him such pride that he was in a position to help others and even when he wasn’t financially secure, he did not think twice about helping anyone in need.
Dad loved to give gifts to others and it brought him such joy. So many of the people here have probably had the experience of mentioning to Dad that they like something, and him handing it over as a gift. He saw the beauty in objects, he delighted in them, but he would give them away in a heartbeat, if he felt someone else would enjoy and appreciate it.
While working at Ravisis Dad met Alex Siros. This was such a blessing in his life as the two of them went on to have a partnership of over fifty years, each one complementing the other, the ying to the other’s yang. Neither would have achieved what they did without the other by their side. Dad was a man of ideas, endless entrepreneurial schemes, he was the charismatic salesman, and Alex was the one who was able to make the visions a reality. Mum described Alex as the anchor, the one who grounded Dad and together they soared to great heights.
The beginning of their business connection was the establishment of Simes. Dad saw that many of the Italian customers wanted pharmaceuticals from their homeland that they could not access in Australia. So, Dad, together with Alex and two other partners, established a company to import the goods for which people were looking. The other two partners left and Dad and Alex continued with Simes.
The other partner Dad met at Ravisis was Lynette, his partner in life. Dad was doing the day shift and Mum the nights and they met as they exchanged shifts, I think of it as two shifts passing in the night! Mum had saved money and was about to go on her great European adventure, she wanted to travel, work overseas, see the world. Dad was divorced, penniless and foreign, maybe not the great catch that he thought he was but ever the salesman he convinced Mum that he was exotic, had potential and life with him would be an even more exciting adventure. And so began a 58 year journey together.
At this time, Dad met someone who was establishing a new shopping centre in City Cross and offered Dad a shop. The pharmacy world was small and he did not want to compete in that market, so he went in search of a different idea. But Dad always wanted to own a pharmacy like his father and years later when he was able to buy Birks, a prestige pharmacy, he felt he had really made it.
When Dad was searching for a business idea pharmacies were one of only two places a person could buy perfume, the other was department stores where brands had their own counters. Dad remembered perfume shops in Egypt and decided that Australia needed a single place where a person could buy any perfume. He took the shop and Alex, who through Simes, was already importing some perfume, was tasked with getting the agencies and stock, while Dad sold the dream.
The first shop, Piaf, named after one of Dad’s favourite singers, opened its doors in 1968. On their opening day they took a grand total of $20 and Mum was panicked about whether or not this was the worst decision of their lives! This was a pattern that would be repeated throughout their marriage, Mum cautious and tentative, and Dad racing forward, ideas coming at a million miles an hour and everyone else following in his wake. Mum supported every endeavour and crazy idea and was often the guinea pig for his next big thing. Who can forget the eyeshadow with lead in it and the tanning pills which turned Mum a glowing orange, more oompa Loompa than bronzed ozzie. But whatever else their life was together, Dad delivered on the adventure part! There was never a dull moment and nobody ever knew what was going to be next.
However, Mum and Dad did need to eat, pay the mortgage and by then, also feed their new daughter, me, and so when Dad realised there was space in the basement of City Cross, he took it and began as a handbag agent for companies like glo-mesh which helped to pay the bills. Mum and Dad had bought the house on Bonython Ave and they have spent their entire married life there. Dad loved the house and much as mum would have sold it years ago, it was his castle and the place he was most happy.
After a slow beginning, the business began to take off and Dad moved from more behind the scenes to the front, schmoozing with the customers, charming everyone and working on his next big idea. He was the original up-seller, and we all knew that we should ask for every purchase, would you like a talc or soap with that? He introduced the coffret, the famous ten French perfumes, which walked out the door at Christmas time. The family were all enlisted to gift wrap them, and we had boxes wrapped and ready to go. Dad taught us all how to gift wrap and use only two pieces of sticky tape. The beautiful cherub paper that was a signature of Piaf, brought joy to people when they saw the wrapping, knowing that there would be something indulgent and elegant inside.
Dad saw opportunities everywhere which is why Piaf would go on to sell shampoo and conditioner, only $1.95 a bottle! Mum tested it first. The Piaf Vitamin E Cream, only $4.95 a tub, Mum tested, sunglasses a bargain at $4.95 also tested, international dolls, and Daniel’s favourite, the zodiac chart which could tell you definitively what perfume is best for you based on your starsign! He came up with dump bins to sell stock which was not moving and best of all, the baskets. If you put something in a basket with a ribbon on it, people will buy it. We all became expert ribbon curlers, can all whip up a bow and despite knowing the philosophy, I am a sucker for a basket with a ribbon!
Dad was the first to create Australian-made fragrances. At the time, buying Australian was not a source of pride, and unless perfume was French, it was not considered good, so his perfumes all had French names, which Australians would be able to pronounce. He did well with all of them except Folavril, that was a tough one for the average Australian. But he had such pride in Australia and wanted to produce a uniquely Australian fragrance and so Boronia was born: bold and beautiful, young but not naïve! Dad often said he was “Giving the peoples what they want!” and that was his superpower, having his finger on the zeitgeist and being able to spot a trend and then sell it. One of his favourite things was to show us items and say “how much would you pay for this?” waiting for us to say a number, then the delight and the smile which would light up his face when inevitably he would come back with a number far lower, always ending in 95 cents!
Dad understood the power of advertising and from the early days of Piaf, the business was paying for space in the newspapers. He was a frequent guest on the morning TV shows, Jaye Walton was a particular favourite. A male in a female-dominated industry, he would bring his charm, charisma and extensive knowledge and draw people into his imaginings. One of his favourite jokes, which he still laughed at a couple of days ago, was about someone selling sardines that were off, and the punchline was that they were not for eating, they were for buying and selling. That is what he did, buying and selling and together with Alex, they opened 12 shops and employed hundreds of people bringing elegance and a touch of magic to Australian men and women.
Dad was delighted when Zara came to work with him. He had employed so many family members in various ways throughout the years but to finally have one of his children join the business and work side by side with him, made him so happy. He referred to Daniel and I as heathens because we did not appreciate the finer points of the business, but with Zara, he found a kindred spirit and the ten years she worked with him were really special.
Alongside business, Dad began to collect antique perfume bottles. He became an expert as he taught himself everything he needed to know to recognise and appreciate the beauty and elegance of the bottles. He could not walk past an antique shop without going inside and he inevitably came out with a new purchase. Watching him unwrap it from its tissue paper and turn it in his hands, you could see the absolute pleasure it brought him, and then he placed it in the cabinet ready to move on to his next purchase. He had an uncanny ability to see the good, and he always said that Mum was the one who found the cracks and the chips, he saw only the perfection he wanted to be there.
And that was how he was with people, too. He believed in the goodness of others. He did not have a malicious bone in his body and he assumed others were the same. He loved a bargain was not averse to a little tweaking or perhaps today it would be called marketing, but he was honest to a fault. He could not conceive of others taking advantage of a person and that naivity led to people taking advantage of him. He was an easy mark and heartbreakingly, time and again, we watched as people exploited his kindness and generosity. Whenever it happened, the hurt and disbelief that someone would do something like that was etched across his face, but it never made him jaded or prevented him from reaching out to others every single time.
Dad was the person to whom others came for advice and counsel and he was there, ready to listen and help. He guided people and would do whatever he could to take away a little of their pain and suffering. He had a kinship with people and spoke about mental illness, the scourge of depression and anxiety, long before it was a topic of discussion. He spent his life with the darkness of depression ever looming, never sure when it would engulf him, but when it did, it took him to places of deep darkness and crushing sadness. He searched relentlessly for a cure, a magic formula which would free him, but despite his desperate searching, he never found it.
Dad received an award from the French Government, a Knight of the Order of Merit, for his services to French perfume. He was so proud to be recognised in that way for his passion.
In the 80s Dad ran for city council, he wanted to be a voice for business in the city. He won his first election and took his place amongst civic leaders. He was a passionate advocate for the city which he loved and which had taken him and his family into its embrace. Despite being faced with prejudice, antisemitism and xenophobia, he did not allow it to stop him from trying to do good. After two terms as Deputy Lord Mayor, Dad ran for Lord Mayor. He found out that pharmacists were amongst the most trusted professions and so his “how to vote cards” all said Henry Ninio pharmacist! He was elected unopposed and becoming the Lord Mayor was one of the most proud moments of his life. The penniless refugee from Egypt had attained the city’s highest office. His biggest regret was that his mother was not alive to see it. The role gave him the affirmation he sought all his life, and he revelled in every moment. He loved the regalia, the pomp and ceremony, he enthusiastically participated in every opportunity, whether it was singing with choirs, meeting the Queen, giving speeches, attending fundraisers, opening events, closing events, Dad was there and ready to wear and do whatever would make people happy. One of our favourites was leading the bagpipe band in a kilt! And his memorable New Year’s Eve concerts. He was so proud to host events in the Town Hall and to be able to celebrate my grandfather’s 80th birthday there was a special treat. And through this whole time by his side, as he would often say, “my greatest asset, my wife, Lynette”
And he had dreams for the city. His refrain Shakespeare’s: “what is the city but the people?” was his driving force. He recognised that if people lived in the city, then the businesses would thrive and it could be a vibrant, organic, exciting place. He was part of the redevelopment of the East End, arranged for Hutt Street to be lined with trees, to create what he described as the Paris of the Southern Hemisphere, and he tackled everything with his usual irrepressible energy and drive. He had no guile, no political nous, what you saw was who he was and his vision for what the city could become. He was a politician who did not do politics, he said what he thought, genuinely enjoyed being with people and believed he could make a difference. He never said “no” and we have some wonderful images of that time with him standing in the fountain in Rundle Mall with an umbrella, advocating for pissoirs, open-air toilets like Paris where men could step in and relieve themselves. Not all his ideas were winners, but he was passionate about the city and making it a thriving centre.
When Dad was the Lord Mayor, he had a driver, which was a great relief to all of us. Dad always drove red cars because, in Egypt, that colour was reserved for the royal family, and he drove, taking the speed limit as a suggestion, one arm out the window, the other tapping a beat on the steering wheel, and a scarf clenched between his teeth.
Dad loved food and saw himself as a connoisseur of fine dining. Often, he was heard to exclaim that if we had served this in Egypt we would have been taken out and shot. He believed every dish could be improved with chilli and more salt which was a great stress to his cardiologist son. We all remember Dad and his brother Albert at Dad’s favourite Thai restaurant, the Bangkok, cheeks flushed, sweat pouring down their faces as they exclaimed how fabulous the Yum Clear noodles were. Dad had many other rules of eating: if you ate something in a thin slice or after midnight straight from the fridge, there are no calories. He only ever ate half of things, “have half with me Lynette,” was a constant refrain. Dad ate as he lived life, fast! Come to think of it, he did lots of things fast, driving, Shabbat prayers, one year he was allowed to lead the seder and we were finished and eating 20 minutes later!
Judaism was always an important part of Dad’s life and identity. Even when he suffered from discrimination, he never hid who he was or stopped being proud of being Jewish. He never forgot that when he arrived in Australia, the synagogue was a place of support and welcome and he remained committed to the AHC from that time on. When Daniel and I were ready to begin Sunday School, Mum and Dad discovered Beit Shalom. They both volunteered their time and Dad served as president of the synagogue. His generosity extended to the synagogue and they were always generous contributors and in typical Dad style, when he found they were in need of a new Torah scroll, he donated one.
Dad had so many achievements in his life but family was always central. When he arrived in Australia, he fell straight into the arms of family who were here, cousins, aunts and uncles and as more and more were able to arrive, they created an incredible life, always close and connected to one another. Dad’s brothers and their families were constant visitors and weekends were always spent together. When Dad brought his mother to live in our home, these family moments became even more frequent and a central feature of our lives. He had nicknames for everyone and was a passionate advocate for everyone. He was there for all of us and no matter what was happening, we all knew that we could rely upon him, and he would be there.
Dad was so proud of his children, Zara, Daniel and me, he was astounded by our achievements and the people that we have become in the world. And he adored and was proud of his grandchildren: Morrison, Bronte, Joe, Jem, Sarah and Willow. He was close to all his nieces and nephews and he held a really special place in their hearts.
But of everyone Lynette was his rock, his life partner, the other half that made him complete. She was his loyal, devoted companion, lifting him when he fell, holding him when he was afraid and helping him to make his dreams come true. He was able to fly because he knew that her arms would be there to catch him, a strong, beautiful blessing who helped him to become all of who he was. Mum, you were his rock, you held his hand and guided him through all the darkness, the times of trauma and pain, and you stood beside him, so loyal and loving, embracing the journey, supporting his every endeavour, selflessly devoted to giving him the most wonderful life possible. And you had some of the most incredible experiences, he pushed you to do and be things you never imagined, and even though there were challenging times, there was so much to celebrate and remember, joy and happiness. And these last years, as he became so diminished, you showed us all what courage and compassion are, as you tended to his needs, withstood his fear and frustration, and walked with him to a place of peace and acceptance, his child-like wonder as he softened and delighted in the most simple of pleasures: mango, half a banana, something you chose for him, or made for him. Your lives together were entwined and I know that it has been so hard to see him slowly slipping away. But through it all, you stood steadfast beside him, and you were the greatest gift and blessing in his life.
When Dad retired from the Lord Mayoral role, he gave up the business and his world slowly began to shrink. The spark went out of his eyes again as he was plunged into another period of darkness and depression from which he never fully emerged. Then as the Alzheimers took hold, it gripped him in its vice of fear, confusion and frustration, but then slowly, a calm settled over him. He found a sense of contentment and peace, playing his music, seeing his family, eating treats and gently moving away from this earth. And on Friday, in the arms of his beloved wife, with the words of the shema floating above him, Dad took his final breaths and left this earth.
In the liturgy for Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, we read, Adam yesodo meafar vesofo meafar, man, his origin is dust and to the earth he will return…ketzel over ucheanan caleh, a shadow moving on, a cloud passing by…chehalom yaoof, a dream that flies away. Dad, we return your body to the earth from whence it came and your soul is now free to fly away, a shadow, a cloud, a dream. Thank you for dreaming with us, for taking us on the most magnificent of journeys, and now be free from all that constrained you and may you be happy and at peace.
