The following is the Obituary for Lionel Monte that appeared on the Mantovani Fan Website home page:

Memories of Mantovani Violinist, Lionel Monte Here are Harvey Monte's memories of his father Lionel (28 June1911-15 July 2005) which were read out at the consecration of his tombstone in May 2006. Thanks to Harvey and Alan Dixon for making it possible to read about such a fine musician:      If one had to sum up in one sentence what underpinned Lionel's approach to life and how he would have liked to be remembered it would be that he took his responsibilities and life itself very seriously.      He was prepared to work all hours of the day and all the days of the week to provide comfort and security for his wife and son. He only sought the best for them and because of his efforts they wanted for nothing.       Like many of his generation of East End Jewry, Lionel left school as soon as it was legally possible for him to do so in order to contribute to the home. More significantly his formal music education was incomplete and his undoubted talent not fully developed. Lionel made up for this by sheer hard work and a readiness and an ability to learn from experience. He had one very important quality. He could produce a magnificent tone whether it was on the fairly modest violin he used professionally for the first 20 years of his career and which he gave to his son on his 13th birthday, or the more splendid Guarnarius with which he finished his career.      Because of the contribution he made to an orchestra's sound and because he could always be relied upon to give of his best, his work ranged across the entire musical world. He led the orchestra in many West End theatres, especially the Palace Theatre, Coliseum, Drury Lane and the Savile. By the time a show went into rehearsal he had memorised it not only to enable him to do the leader's job more efficiently but also to be able to take over conducting, if necessary at very short notice, in the case of one show at the Palace, with a few minutes notice because the conductor had a particular fondness for scotch.      He went on European tours with the Royal Philharmonic when Thomas Beecham was the conductor and in the mid-60's was guest violinist with the Vancouver Symphony who offered him a permanent contract which he reluctantly turned down. He went on European and worldwide tours with Mantovani who was a close friend of his and did a great deal of work both on radio and in television. He also did considerable recording session work, mainly at Abbey Road. He hated some of this work, often being vehemently resentful at having to spend a whole day recording a single track with what he described as 'tonedeaf so-called artists'. It became so uncomfortable for him that he eventually resorted on occasion to using ear plugs - several well known artists regularly received the ear plug treatment and not even the most famous always escaped it.

here were many composers and conductors involved in film-making, especially at Shepperton and Elstree studios, who insisted that he organised their orchestras because they knew he would assemble the best players available. He would get together the principal instrumentalists of the major London symphony orchestras. The leader would often be a concert violinist and next to him would be the leaders of the Philharmonia, London Symphony and Royal Philharmonic. Mixed with these would be the best light music players and woodwind and brass players from the world of swing and jazz because he believed this gave a much richer sound. He was able to engage these players partly because he was held in such high regard within the profession. His professionalism included taking great pride in his appearance. He always wore beautifully tailored suits, he was particular about the shirts and ties he wore, you could see your face in the shine of his shoes. He was never late for work. He used to say that you might get away with arriving late once for a session but do it twice and you probably would never work for those people again. In the winter he would sometimes get up at some unearthly hour to allow extra time in case the roads were bad. His punctuality did not always extend to his social life. He frequently kept Cissie and Harvey waiting half an hour or more outside the Musicians' Club in Archer Street because there was a solo kitty to be played out or a bridge rubber to complete. He was a very fine bridge player, belonging to one of the most prestigious clubs in London. He played with and against the top international players of his time, winning competitions and tournaments. He was one of a team of four who won the Southern English Championships two years running. Had he been prepared to sacrifice work for bridge he might well have become an international.      He took his membership of the Musicians' Union very seriously. His East End roots were very important to him. He never forgot the poverty and exploitation he witnessed in his youth and these were to inform his politics and values throughout his life. He was one of a small group of five or six who, against all the odds, campaigned successfully for the establishment of a regular Conference and the first Biennial Musicians' Conference took place in 1940. He was for many years not only chairman of the large London branch but also a member of the National Executive, part of the delegation to the TUC Conference and to International Conferences in Geneva and Budapest. He was a skilled negotiator and there are many musicians, particularly in London, who enjoy better conditions today because of those skills. For some time after he retired from the Union he and Cissie were invited as honoured guests to the Conference until it became too difficult for them physically to make the trip.      He was a man with a powerful personality who, once his mind was made up, carried out his decisions with great determination. He had a powerful influence on all those who knew him and loved him and they will share many vivid memories. It is through these influences and memories that some kind of immortality is achieved.