Martin died on 5 January 2014, aged 78 after a long and courageously fought battle against cancer, leaving behind his wife Angela and their two sons and daughter and their grandchildren. Family and friends attending his funeral at the Jewish Cemetery in Bushey heard a brief history of Martin’s life which he had dictated days before his death to a friend who remembered how Martin had told him: “although a faithful believer, I sometimes felt that rowing was my real religion.”
Martin’s earlier life was one of struggles and stresses. Born in Danzig in 1935 his mother took him three years later to Palestine where her husband Hermann ran a major hotel in Tel Aviv. This was only months before the outbreak of the second World War to evade the imminent advance of the Nazis and their invasion of Danzig, then a semi-autonomous city-state.
After finishing school in 1953 Martin joined the army of his country which by then had become an independent state, spending much of his time on the front line under the Golan Heights. The sight of seeing not only his friends but also Arabs being killed depressed him greatly and inspired him to seek an opportunity of going abroad, England being his favourite choice. He arrived in London in 1956 and succeeded at getting a place at the Hotel & Catering Management School, now part of the University of Surrey.
Little of Martin’s past was ever noticeable during his many years at the Club - he joined in 1972 - because what counted to him was to be able to row, be loyal to his fellow Irregulars and to the Club in general, qualities which extended widely when considering that he lived far out of London, was utterly reliable in keeping to agreed times of outings and highly supportive of dinners, functions or meetings at the Club. Even if delayed by traffic jams Martin would appear with a jovial apology and immediately join the fray at meetings or afloat.
It was almost as if the word ‘Irregular’ had been invented for Martin because this nickname, meant to define members who row on different days and at different times, fitted him like a glove. Although he had begun rowing at the age of 13 this early start had not necessarily given him any specific degree of proficiency other than his immense enjoyment of it, his total dedication to the sport and all that it entails, so qualifying him without difficulty or hesitation for membership of this august brotherhood.
During his many years at the Club, Martin was an eager crew member in such races as Heads of the River, informal regattas up and down the Thames or inter-Club events. Being a member of the Stewards’ Enclosure he was a keen supporter of Club crews racing at Henley, extending his love for this annual event by inviting some of his grandchildren to accompany him.
Possibly because of his enthusiasm Martin had cultivated a total disregard for weather conditions. However raw or nasty the outlook, he would nonchalantly be carrying oars or sculls to the water unless stopped by a team mate querying the skies for rain or worse. Then, usually, a ‘compromise’ would be struck meaning that the outing would proceed unhindered. So trips with snow on a boat’s canvasses or ice on her riggers were not uncommon and even the heaviest of rains would be dismissed disparagingly.
Of particular interest prior to embarking were Martin’s studies of how to keep his boots above the water line, to delicately position his rubber grip seat, avoid a heavy bump onto his slide and juggle with his pogies. But once done, leaning far back, he would inform his partner: “I’m rrready.”
Several members have had the fortune of seeing the Feuers at play when in a nice hotel the family and their friends celebrated such major events as Martin’s and Angela’s 70th or 75th birthdays and their 50th wedding anniversary. At this occasion – only four years ago – the happy pair were persuaded to join some of their LRC friends to give a demonstration of the art of rowing; much to the amusement of all.
Martin ended the dictation of his life story by expressing his admiration of Edith Piaf, saying like her "…non, je ne regrette rien.”
Rob van Mesdag
