They’ve been mates for nearly 50 years. Then one day, Russell brought out a book

April 16, 2026 — 11:00am

The friendship between Russell James, 83, a retired teacher, and Russell Thompson, 63, a professor in transport engineering at the University of Melbourne, began at Melbourne’s Highett High School back in 1977.

“Mr James’s approach to teaching – the idea that you’re not just a teacher transmitting knowledge and information – has shaped my whole career,” says Russell Thompson (right) of Russell James.Jason South

Russell T.: Mr James was a new teacher at my school when I was in form 3 [year 9]. He taught a subject called consumer education. In years 11 and 12, he was my accounting teacher.

He was professional, honest and a very eccentric-type character. Economics and accounting can be quite dry and boring and he tried to make them more interesting. Most teachers in the 1970s were pretty tough or mean or just not interested in the students. He focused on the discipline of a subject but told great stories. On Fridays, when we had triple accounting, he’d let us tell jokes and do games in the breaks.

I ended up getting the school’s accounting award and going on to university. It was certainly not the norm for students from there to go on to higher studies. That’s a reflection of Mr James’s great teaching.

He’s a sporting fanatic. One time he came into school with a couple of black eyes. Rumours went around he’d had some big brawl, but it was squash balls during a game. We used to talk about football at school but realised we both loved tennis. We started a school tennis tournament and then played socially for years. Several months ago, he came to my house with an exercise book. It had every game of tennis that we’ve played since 1978 – with every date and score – recorded in it. I didn’t realise he did this.

He’s written seven books. His first was a biography of David Graham, the golfer. In 2014, he wrote A Street and Time Too Far Away about growing up in the 1950s on a street in McKinnon [in Melbourne]. It’s meticulously documented. Typical of him. He’s passionate about telling stories.

He’s quite on his own, which I don’t think bothers him. For the past 20 years, my wife, Christine, and I have made more of an effort to check in, see if he needs any help. His brother died recently. That was tough. He recently lost the use of one eye, but he doesn’t labour on these things. He’s always got more interesting things to talk about.

I remember driving him back from hospital after an eye procedure. His eye’s all bandaged up, but he’s telling me, “No, you can’t go that way. This is the most direct way.” I felt quite embarrassed. I didn’t know where I was and here’s Mr James explaining the fastest way.

He always looks for ways to make life more interesting. A few years ago, he started putting dinosaurs and toys in his front garden to entertain passing kids. He’s a fanatical op-shopper; takes it quite seriously. He’s got a small apartment, so he sometimes wears something a few times and then donates it back.

I’ve been in the university system for about 30 years. I’ve taught more than 25 PhD students and thousands of students in engineering. Mr James’s approach to teaching – the idea that you’re not just a teacher transmitting knowledge and information – has shaped my whole career. I would never have been such a compassionate type of teacher, and probably person, without him.

‘I’ve made two New Year’s resolutions … attempting to play tennis or squash every single day of the year. The closest I got was 348 days.’
Russell James

Russell J.: Over nearly 30 years of teaching, two classes stand out in my memory. One was a group of boys down at Rosebud High School [now Rosebud Secondary College], all the sons of farmers from Main Ridge. The other was that year 11 accounting class. In Russell, I could see a lot of myself as a year 11-12 student. He was courteous, attentive, respectful. He used to laugh at my poor attempts at humour. He loved playing sport. Sport, for better or worse, has been the story of my life.

I’m single and, I’ll be honest, I’m not very good at relationships. I’ve had two failed marriages; I’m OK as a friend. What I’m very good at, though, is the pursuit of my obsession: playing sport. I’ve only ever made two New Year’s resolutions and they were about attempting to play tennis or squash every single day of the year. The closest I got was in 1978: 348 days.

There’s a quote by the British philosopher Bertrand Russell: “One of the great drawbacks to self-centred passions is that they afford so little variety in life … [a man] is bound in the end to suffer intolerable boredom from the invariable sameness of the object of his devotion.” It was Russell and his family who saved me from having that “intolerable boredom”.

For many years now, he and his wife, Christine, have welcomed me into their family gatherings: their wedding, their children’s christenings, Christmas. I don’t know what my capacity is, but they have always welcomed me. Whenever I knock on Russell’s door, the words are always the same. It’s always, “Oh, Mr James, good to see you. Come on in.” Those words – what lies beyond in terms of the entry into family life – mean so much. It makes me quite emotional. I don’t think Russell knows this.

Three or so years ago, I started getting these phone calls on Sunday evenings. “Mr James, this is Russell Thompson. How is everything?” Just checking up on me.

After visiting him, if it was dark or slippery from rain outside, he’d grab my elbow when I was going to the car. He’d switch on the outdoor lights and say, “Don’t go down there; we’ll go around here.” When this started, I’d say, “It’s OK, Russ. What are you doing that for?” I’d become, for want of a better word, doddering. I didn’t want to see it. I knew what it meant for my passion for playing sport, but he knew. Russell observes and absorbs it all.

‘He helped a student from Ukraine get out of the country … spent a lot of his own money, put them up in his house … The quiet achievers, they’re my heroes.’
Russell James on Russell Thompson

He’s frequently around the world, advising governments. In 2011, I rang him up about something and Christine answered, saying, “Oh, no, he’s in Japan.” He was advising the Japanese authorities after the earthquake that affected the nuclear power plant in Fukushima.

You’d have to prise information like that out of him; he’s the most humble person I’ve ever met. He has a very strong faith and it shows in his actions. Not so long ago, he helped a student from Ukraine get out of the country with his wife and young daughter. Russell spent a lot of his own money, put them up in his house.

I would wish him to be a little bit more forthcoming with people about how much he’s achieved, but that’s not Russell and it never will be. The quiet achievers, they’re my heroes. Russell is my greatest hero.

twoofus@goodweekend.com.au

Get the best of Good Weekend delivered to your inbox every Saturday morning. Sign up for our newsletter.

Australia’s youngest-ever senator on the ‘she’s far too young’ argument

Charlotte Walker, who won her seat for Labor at the federal election on her 21st birthday, discusses sexism, ageism – and her commandments for good leadership.

How do you strike up a chat with someone you don’t know?

The one topic you should never use as a conversation-starter (and what to say instead)

Breaking the ice with a stranger is an artform: experts recommend learning to nail “body torque” and subliminal cues as well as “safe starter” questions.