May - Old Scarborians

Transcription

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Summer Times is the Journal
of the
Old
Scarborians
Association
Members of the Association are
former pupils and members of
staff of
Scarborough High School for
Boys
Volume 43
May 2003
Old Scarborians Association
Web address: http://oldscarborians.org
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David Pottage
International Golf Course
Architect
A Complete Service
from
Project Appraisal
through
Detailed Design
to
Turnkey Development
70 Whitesmead Road
Old Town
Stevenage
Herts. SG1 3JZ
Tel: 01438 221026
Fax:01438 229271
e-mail [email protected]
Member European Institute of Golf Course Architects
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PRESIDENT:
PUBLICITY
Mick Bowman,
9 Ilkley Grove, Guisborough, Cleveland
TS14 8LL
Tel: +44 (0)1287 634650
E-mail: [email protected]
Please send photographs for scanning for the
web site, from UK addresses, or publicity
items, to:
Mick Bowman,
9 Ilkley Grove, Guisborough, Cleveland
TS14 8LL
Tel: +44 (0)1287 634650
SECRETARY/MEMBERSHIP
Peter Robson, Forge Villa, High Street,
Ebberston, North Yorkshire. YO13 9PA
Tel: +44 (0)1723 859335
Assistant Secretary/Membership
Colin Hurd (01723 870597)
FINANCIAL, SPORT &
MAGAZINE ADVERTISING
Chris Found, Pinewood Cottage, Silpho,
Scarborough. North Yorkshire.
YO13 0JP Tel: +44 (0)1723 882343
SUMMER TIMES EDITORIAL
Please send all items for the next Summer Times,
(by e-mail, CD or floppy disk if possible; otherwise on single sides of paper), to reach me by
15th August 2003:
David Fowler,
“Farthings”, 56 Prince of Wales Apartments,
Esplanade,
Scarborough, North Yorkshire. YO11 2BB
Tel: +44 (0)1723 365448
Associate Editor
John Mann (01948 662943; M: 0799 0787089)
OSA WEB SITE
http://oldscarborians.org
Please send all items for the web site, to:
Bill Potts
1848 Hidden Hills Drive
Roseville California 95661-5804 USA
Telephone: +001 916 773-3865
CONTENTS
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3
4
6
6
6
7
13
18
23
25
26
26
27
28
31
33
35
36
36
36
37
42
43
45
47
48
51
58
58
59
60
60
Editorial
Presidential
Secretarial
Treasurial
Sporting events
OSA web site report
Committee Profiles
From here & there
Obituaries
Memories– a Girl at SBHS
More Memories – Myton-on-Swale
Dinner at Myton
Memories of Stod
Further Imperfect Memories
Recollections
Seconds Out
Bill Kendall Remembers
Flotsam & Jetsam
Graham School Appeal
The World’s Easiest Quiz
Peter Robson visits Australia
Chewing the Fat
School Photo 1925
Connections
Hov’s War Memoir – Preamble
Hov’s War Memoir – Response
5000 Miles – Hov’s War Memoir
Casey’s Continental Capers– Part.1
Answers to The World’s Easiest Quiz
Crossword Solution November 2002
Crossword No. 3
Late News; Forthcoming Events
Postscript
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EDITORIAL
digested.”
I was browsing idly
through a copy of The
Scarborian. A musty
aroma tainted with
mildew
percolated
the air and dust flew
everywhere
as
I
flicked the pages. The
magazine fell open at
the Old Scarborians’ Association page.
Now, 60 years on, we send 638 copies of Summer Times world wide - but twice a year. This
surely says something about the strength of
our Association when the school closed some
30 years ago.
The mustiness was hardly surprising. The
magazine was issue 29 - published in 1943 and
60 years old.
I thought there would be few connections
between 1943 and 2003; until I read that
editorial:
“Last year 600 copies of The Scarborian were sent
out to Old Boys serving in the Forces at home and
abroad. The Magazine made its way to all parts of
the world, and even as the new Magazine goes to
Press, letters of acknowledgment are still being
received.
There is no doubt that the Magazine was welcomed, and the reward for the trouble in sending it
has been not merely thanks, but unstinted and
enthusiastic praise of the contents. A typical letter
is one from India: “It was really a treat to get the
School Magazine. When I received it I put all
things aside till I had read it from cover to cover.”
Another writes: “Just a line saying how much I
appreciated reading the School Magazine again this
year. Mention of some of the names in it brought
happy memories of Schooldays.” A naval wanderer
writes: “I’m very grateful for the assortment of
news it gives - especially that of Old Boys. I may
say that several of my fellow officers have all been
very impressed by the variety of activities it covers.” And finally, a “Desert Rat” hits on the explanation of the warmth of its welcome:
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, and could visualize those end-of-term meetings when the Magazine
did not take on such a sentimental value as it does
now. I received the last one in the thick of the June
‘show,’ and under trying conditions it was eagerly
Now, 60 years on, we receive comments which
indicate the magazine is still as welcome now,
as it was in 1943.
Now, 60 years on, the “Desert Rats” again are
at war.
However, there is one other, much more striking connection.
As I write this Editorial early in April, some of
our troops are approaching Baghdad.
60 years ago, in 1943, the year that musty, mildewed magazine was published as a new,
crisp copy of The Scarborian, Major George
Reginald Hovington, (better known as Hov),
was fighting for King and Country. Today we
start to serialize his Memoir, and I quote from
Chapter 6:
“On our way through Baghdad, we were astounded
to see Hedley Verity. He had caught amoebic dysentery in India and was sent to the hospital in the
city for treatment before being repatriated. How he
knew our company was to pass through Baghdad I
do not know but there he was, like a hitch-hiker,
stopping our leading truck.”
Connections indeed!
To bring us back to the present, thank you to
all contributors and advertisers, thank you to
John Mann who is now Associate Editor
(another name for part-time typist but I’m
breaking him in gently between his many holidays!), thank you to proof-readers Adrian
Casey - get well soon Adrian - and Peter
Robson, and, above all many thanks to all of
you, whether contributors or not.
Without your support there couldn’t be an
Old Scarborians Association.
David Fowler (1949-55)
Editor
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PRESIDENTIAL
I was honoured to be
elected President of the
Old Scarborians Association this year and
very pleased to be the
first son to follow his
father in the position.
I first attended an AGM
ten years ago and I discovered that attendance automatically made
you a member of the committee. If memory
serves me right there were nine old boys there.
Amongst them were Frank Bamforth, Geoff
Nalton, Jack Layton and Peter Emms and his
father.
Since then there have been many changes to
the association and the attendance at AGM’s
has now reached the point were there has to be
a vote for committee membership. Although I
cannot remember anyone wishing to participate being turned down! In fact as the work
load has increased the Secretary and Magazine
Editor now have assistants.
Although regular thanks are given to the driving forces behind the association I would like
to take this opportunity to bring the enormous
amount of work done for members by Peter
Robson, David Fowler, Chris Found and Bill
Potts to your attention. Each of these spend
many hours involved with association tasks
and without their commitment to the Old Boys
the dinners, magazines and web site we enjoy
would not be there. On behalf of the membership thank you, gentlemen.
The annual Christmas Dinner at the Palm
Court seemed to be it’s usual success and I
have no doubt Peter has given details in his
report. The only point of contention appeared
to be about which bar members should meet in
before arriving at the Palm Court.
On Boxing Day I drove down from Guisborough with my brother-in-law, John Walker
(1958-65), to watch the annual rugby match
between the Old Boys, now renamed The Exiles, and the Rugby Club. Although the years
are long past when you could see up to thirty
Old Scarborians slogging it out on the pitch I
was amazed at the links still there.
Barry Beanland, who first played in the fixture
in 1969 has been involved ever since either as a
player or team organiser, Peter Emms who
started school in 1951 led the team out and
obviously has learnt nothing in his many years
of rugby as he still plays in the madhouse positions in the front row. This of course is the view
of a person who spent all his time in the backs!
Also playing was the gentleman reported as
the youngest old boy on the membership list,
Nigel Wilson who started school in 1972. Much
to my amazement the links did not end there.
Richard White had his two sons James and
Jonnie playing, Roger Gilbert had a son Richard playing and another son Chris hobbling
with a broken foot and unable to turn out,
Chris Found’s boy Richard was also involved.
While presenting the trophy I was told that the
Chairman of the club, Colin Adamson, and the
Club President elect, Colin Rennard, are both
Old Boys. Barry also told me that Bash Howes,
who was a great supporter of the Rugby Club,
left a considerable amount of money to the club
on his untimely death. The club used it to start
a development fund, which is ongoing and
might be considered for donations from old
boys who have enjoyed the sport and social life
offered by the club over the years.
If any of the names or details mentioned are
wrong or I have missed anyone out, I apologise
now and put forward the defence that I was
enjoying the club’s best bitter while gathering
the information.
On the topic of the rugby links can I raise a
couple of questions?
The trophy played for is the Marsden Trophy
and was presented in 1936. Questions: When
did the Old Boys v The Rugby Club fixtures
start? Has the trophy always been for rugby or
was the school a soccer school in the 1930’s?
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Does anyone out there have any memories of
past games, funny or serious or historical fact?
Where did all the school’s rugby players go?
Clive Hopkins and Henry Bell became founder
members of Guisborough Rugby club, Geoff
Dowson went on to captain Yorkshire, Norm
Hopkins played at Scarborough along with
many others, Dave Watson vanished to the
wilds of Lancashire and strange teams in the
west and I think Mick Cammish played Rugby
League.
If you have any memories or details, funny,
serious or historical let either David Fowler or
myself know and we will publish the relevant
fact or fiction. Do not be put off because you feel
your piece might be too short or unimportant. It
might just spark others off so generating a history of Scarborough High School Rugby.
I was very pleased to be part of a considerable
Old Boy’s presence at the 80th birthday party for
Bob Watson. Besides the members present it
was good to see Jack Speight again. There were
people present from many organisations as well
as ex pupils, ex colleagues and many friends.
The “old guy” is certainly an example to us all. I
only hope we are as active as he is at 80. Congratulations Bob.
Having seen Bob and Jack I was asked by one or
two members if we could track down more ex
teachers and encourage them to attend one or
other of the gatherings.
Do you know the whereabouts of an ex member
of staff?
Let David or myself know if you do and we will
“knock on their door” and ask if they would
like to see what the eager young boys they sent
out into the world turned into.
The next event is the London Lunch and I hope
as many members as possible will try to attend.
Tickets and details are available from Peter
Robson as usual.
Mick Bowman (1954-61)
President
SECRETARIAL
At 16 February 2003, the OSA had 638 members versus 616 at the time
of my last report (August
21st 2002), an increase of
22. Thus, we continue to
recruit new members albeit at a slower rate than
in the recent past. As
usual, I ask all members
who have kept in touch
with their contemporaries to inform them
about the OSA and to refer them to the web
site which gives a lot of detailed information
about the OSA and includes an application
form for Life Membership.
Each year we gain members but sadly we also
lose them. In the past six months I have had
the deaths of the following reported to me:Ray Ashford (1942-47), Derek Bielby (1934-39),
Peter Toy (1928-32), Brian Speak (1936-41)
John Yeadon (1945-53) and Denis Saunders
(1936-43)
The past six months have been relatively quiet
following the high activity of the Centenary
year. We had an excellent Scarborough dinner
attended by 82 members and we are in the
advanced planning stage for the London
Lunch. At this time it looks as though the latter
will be attended by about 50 members slightly
lower than last year. Even this attendance depends on the response to a reminder about the
lunch which has gone out to all the members
with an e mail address. There has been a small
response to the question which I raised in the
last issue of Summer Times, about the wisdom
of continuing with this event. Everyone who
responded was in favour of keeping the lunch
so we go ahead on that basis.
As usual, we had the AGM in November and
the principle events were the election of Mick
Bowman (1954-61) as President, and of Jack
Layton (1936-41) and Doug Owen (1935-40) as
Honorary Life Vice Presidents. The latter two
have retired from the Committee following
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A Home from Home with Qualified Nursing
Care
A family run home with the emphasis on a gentle and
loving approach. Our home provides comfort and privacy
when desired and long or short respite stay; private or
funded are all welcome. There is a smoking lounge for
relatives and residents, and two south facing sunny day
rooms. Even though we are in a rural location, a private
transport service can be arranged for people, if they find
visiting their relatives or friend a problem. You are welcome to visit our Nursing Home anytime, for more information please call our
Matron: Judy Roddison
8-14 Primrose Valley Road, Filey, North Yorkshire YO14
9QR.
TEL: 01723 513545
Proprietor: Capt. E.J.Baines M.N.I M.R.I.N.
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many years of faithful support and we thank
them for their efforts and hope to see them as
usual at out events.
SPORTING EVENTS
This year we will have an additional event.
The Old Girls Association of the SGHS have
invited us to a joint dinner on the Saturday
27th September at the Palm Court Hotel. This
event will be open to spouses as well as members of both Associations. You will find an
application form for tickets in this issue.
The golf days for 2003 are as follows:Dr. Meadley Thursday 5th June
One of the benefits of being your Secretary is
that I get to correspond with many of you.
You have interesting stories to tell about how
you have translated the broad education that
you received at the School into a rewarding
career. Wherever possible I pass these letters
and communications on to David for inclusion in Summer Times. Please keep the letters
coming!
Peter Robson (1945-53)
Secretary
TREASURIAL
There is very little to
report on the financial
front since the last edition other than that we
are still solvent and that
subs are still trickling in
albeit at a slower rate.
A small profit was
made on the Scarborough Christmas Dinner and the running expenses of the organisation continue to be very
minimal.
Golf Competitions - 2003
T.A.Smith Thursday 17th July
For the latter event the first tee has been reserved from 2.30 to 3.30 p.m. and we are hoping that all entrants will agree to start during
this time, wherever possible, so that playing
fours can be pre-arranged by the organisers.
Chris Found (1951-59)
Golf Secretary
OLD SCARBORIANS WEB
SITE REPORT
Owing to other commitments, I have made
very few changes or
additions to the web
site since the last edition of Summer Times.
There are still a number of photographs of
prefects, drama productions and some sporting events in the
backlog.
One significant addition, however, is the 1942
school photograph, for which Eric
Thomlinson (who now lives in Cambridge,
Ontario) kindly provided a fairly wellpreserved original.
We have recently lost three of our regular
advertisers in Summer Times and if anybody
knows of any possible replacements we shall
be grateful if you will let us know. The cost of
a full page in any edition is £50 and £30 for
half a page.
Graham Rew has scanned and sent the 1958
school photograph, which I may have added
by the time you read this. Based on the years I
was at the school, I had been under the impression that whole-school photographs were
always quadrennial events. Given that we
now have both 1958 and 1959 photographs, I
realise that hasn’t always been the case.
Chris Found (1951-59)
Treasurer
If you have submitted photographs and are
still awaiting their appearance, please accept
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my apologies for the delay.
For the technically inclined, I am gradually
converting the site to use cascading style
sheets. For pages for which I have done this,
loading is marginally faster. However, selfinterest is my main motivation, as the time
required for site maintenance and additions
will be considerably reduced. Those who are
not technically inclined should feel free to
ignore this paragraph.
Bill Potts (1946-55)
Webmaster
COMMITTEE PROFILES
Mick Bowman (1954-61)
B. Phil. Newcastle
My formative years
were spent at Crossgates, which in those
days was a long three
miles from town. I was
educated for a short
time at Lisvane before
returning to Seamer
Primary where I was
one of four boys, Eddie
Wilmore, Alan Haig and Martin Wilson (later
my Best Man), to move on to the High School.
The first five years, 1954-59, were spent at the
old school where my father, George, and two
Uncles, Douglas and Kenneth Coe, had been
educated. I was surprised as a first former to
discover how many of the staff had taught
them and were still there. I also met and
played rugby with Peter Taylor whose father
had been at school with mine playing soccer
together in the days before rugby was established. My sixth form years were at the new
school where I received an invitation to the
Opening Ceremony. This was as a member of
the Caretaker’s cleaning staff; I had spent the
summer holidays working with them preparing the new building.
On leaving school I went to what is now Shef-
field University and later to Newcastle University before spending thirty seven years
working in secondary schools in Cleveland.
I hope to celebrate thirty eight years of marriage to Vivien this summer having met her at
college. We have a son and daughter and a
grandson and granddaughter.
At the moment I am enjoying the freedom of
retirement and am spending a lot of time on
golf courses taking pleasure in the exercise
but suffering extreme stress when confronted
every few yards by a little white ball with a
mind of itʹs own.
Ron Gledhill (1936-44)
After leaving school
in 1944 I joined the
Royal Corps of Signals and served in
India, Malaya and
Thailand as a Wireless Operator.
In 1948, and until
1951 I studied at Hull
Technical
College,
qualifying as a Graduate Member of the Institute of Electrical Engineers, and in due course
became a full Member and a Chartered Engineer.
From 1951 to 1957 I was employed by Yorkshire Electricity in Hull, initially as a Graduate Trainee, and subsequently with the Engineering Staff.
Between 1957 and 1965 I was with Blackburn
Aircraft Ltd., later to become Hawker Siddley
Aviation; later still to be known as British
Aerospace. I worked on Buccaneer aircraft as
an Electrical Design Engineer and was eventually promoted to the post of Chief Electrical
Design Engineer, based in Brough.
From 1965 to 1968 I lectured in Electrical Engineering at Hull Technical College. It was
there that I discovered just how much I did
NOT know. It is true to say that the best way
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to learn a subject is to teach it.
I moved to Sunderland in 1968 and lectured
there until retirement in 1989. Upon retirement I returned to Scarborough, my hometown.
I have been involved in sport all my life and
have enjoyed Soccer, Cricket, Tennis,
Squash, and latterly, Golf. I have never excelled at any of them, but playing sports has
always kept me fit. In my bachelor days in
Hull I often played Squash eight or nine
times a week, and I, and after a game, the
Hull Brewery Company, both benefited. I
still play Golf, to use the word loosely, with
my handicap going from 2 to 22 in recent
years. I still hit them fairly straight, though
not so far.
John E Mann (1950-56)
At the last AGM of the Association Peter
Robson turned his
baleful gaze upon me
and reminded me that
I had not yet fulfilled
my obligation, as a
new Committee Member, to pen a history of
my life. For a moment
I thought that he was
about to condemn me to a period of detention for my tardiness, but my abject apology
saved me from this fate.
In preparation for this piece of autobiographical journalism I first re-read the glowing pages of past issues of Summer Times
and it quickly dawned upon me that there
was no possibility whatsoever of my being
able to compete with the many and various
luminaries whose histories had already
graced these pages. After all, my name was
not engraved on any cup or shield, nor was
it gilded on any Honours Board. Who could
possibly be interested in the life story of such
an average student? Why on earth would
anyone wish to waste his precious time read-
ing of the exploits of a boy who resided in
the bottom half of his form for most of his
High School career? However, bear with
me. After all, we do need to fill 64 pages of
each edition!
My first, and purely personal, claim to fame
is that I am the only student that I am aware
of, who both sat and passed the 11-plus examinations twice. Originally I sat it whilst
my family and I were living in the West Riding. At the end of the summer term we
moved to Scarborough and when my success
in the exam was published I duly applied for
a place at Westwood. The North Riding Education Committee, in its wisdom, advised
my parents that at the age of 10 years I was
too young to attend such an illustrious establishment and so I was condemned to spend a
wasted year at Gladstone Road Junior School
in the clutches of a fearsome harridan named
Miss Binns. However, the Boys’ High School
was not to escape its responsibilities so easily
and I duly took and passed the paper a second time.
In September, 1950, therefore, I presented
myself at Joey Marsden’s emporium for further education. With a new haircut, a freshly
scrubbed face and a blazer two sizes too big
for me (so that I could grow into it) I entered
that imposing building. My first day was a
revelation. I was bushed twice and went
home sporting a brand new tear in the
pocket of my brand new blazer. Needless to
say, my parents were none too pleased and I
was not overjoyed at the thought of going
back to school for a second day.
During the following 6 years most of the
Masters worked hard, without much success,
at trying to educate me. In retrospect I realise that I succeeded in those lessons where I
had some affinity with the individual
teacher, and have fond memories of Les
Brown, both Rice and Price, Costain, Pike
Richardson, Taylor, Hov, Gerry Hinchliffe
and dear old Pop Francis. Both Zenner and
Dai Liddicott were dismissive of my paltry
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attempts at Physics and Chemistry, I was extremely wary of Bradley (with good cause)
and so fearful of Bon that I refused to take
German in the Second Year. Kate Liddicott,
Dai’s youngest daughter is a good friend to
my wife these days. She is a lovely lady, with
a wicked sense of humour. I wonder where
that came from? Must have been her Mother!
I enjoyed cricket, but was not very good at the
game. My slow, left arm bowling was wayward and served only to improve the averages
of my opponents. When batting, I was physically incapable of keeping my eye on the ball,
so generally I did not bother the scorers too
much. I was not fond of the blistering hot,
followed by ice cold showers after Rugby on
Oliver’s Mount, so tried to stay away from the
ball and marauding forwards as much as possible. To no avail, of course, as Jock would
insist upon my being first scalded, and subsequently chilled to the marrow, before being
allowed back down the hill to school.
Recently, Mick Scott reminded me of one of
our escapades when coming down from the
Mount. We both agreed that late afternoon
that we would attempt to get back to school
on our bicycles without either peddling or
braking. We made it to Filey Road without
mishap and tore through the traffic lights at
Ramshill Road, they conveniently being on
green. Unfortunately, lower down Ramshill
Road a lollipop lady decided to step out into
our path. There was no way that either of us
could have screeched to a halt in time, so,
screaming “Banzai” we flew past her, one on
either side of the horrified lady and carried on,
at speed, over the Valley Bridge and down the
slope to school. Our plan had succeeded. Neither of us had peddled nor braked. The following day we were called into Joey’s Office
and duly thrashed. The lollipop lady had had
her revenge.
The only other sporting memory is of the time
that I tackled Jock. As usual, I had been spending the afternoon as far away from the action
as possible, when, horrified, I saw Jock, ball
tucked tightly into his armpit, racing up the
pitch, heading for the touch- line. Even though
I was some way away from this charging
Highlander, there was no one closer. I pretended that I was unaware of his thundering
approach, but some idiot screamed at me to do
something. Dreading the thought of getting
anywhere near Jock, but more afraid of my
compatriots’ rage, I made a slanting run across
the field and into Jock’s path. It was the best,
the purest tackle, my arms tight around Jock’s
thighs, my shoulder hard into his buttocks.
We crashed to the floor, the inevitable try
saved. Jock picked himself up from the floor.
“I didn’t know that you could tackle like that,
Mann,” he said. I was swollen with pride,
even more so when congratulated by my Captain. However, it was a big mistake. From that
day on Jock played me in every position, had
me kicking for conversion, and was continually screaming at me to run faster and tackle
harder. I actually began to enjoy my rugby,
but continued to attempt to escape those
showers.
Towards the end of my school career Joey
commanded me to his office. “Now then, lad,”
he said, sucking on his pipe. “What do you
intend to do with yourself when you leave
school?” I hadn’t the foggiest idea! He shook
his head, sorrowfully. “Why don’t you become a teacher?” This took me completely by
surprise. Me? A teacher? He must have mistaken me for someone else. “I think that I
could get you into St. John’s,” he opined. Regretfully, I declined his offer. “Then what
about the Law?” For a moment I saw myself in
powdered wig and flowing cape, condemning
the guilty and freeing the innocent and beautiful widow. “Do you think I could really pass
all those exams, Sir?” I wondered. Joey was
obviously startled by this remark, but slowly
the penny dropped. “Nay, lad,” shaking his
head sadly. “I didn’t mean a lawyer, I meant a
policeman!” The Mann who fell to earth!
Joey suggested that I sit the Civil Service Examination, which I did, leaving school in 1956,
and subsequently, working in the Reading
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Room at the British Museum. The library employed, seemingly, at least two men for each
and every job. Subsequently, there was little
for me to do, and I quickly learned that if I
volunteered to work in the private rooms and
studies or the most distant galleries I would
be left to my own devices for the day. I spent
the next 9 months or so reading first editions,
studying rare manuscripts and getting very
drunk on scrumpy in the pubs in South Kensington, Chelsea and Earls Court. I earned a
pittance and could afford to eat lunch in the
Museum canteen infrequently, being forced to
supplement my diet with Sandwich Spread
sandwiches. Patrick (Lou) Henry, a chum
from school, was a neighbour, and, together,
we would, on occasion, frequent Ronnie
Scott’s and other havens of academia in Soho.
Boredom set in and, knowing that I would be
called up for National Service, I volunteered
for The Royal Air Force, resigned from the
British Museum and spent the late summer
awaiting my call-up living in Paris and working in the kitchens of the Hotel George Cinq.
Thanks to Les Brown my schoolboy French
quickly improved, although many of the
phrases learned were not in any FrenchEnglish dictionary, particularly those delivered by the chefs. The vin ordinaire was freely
available in the kitchens, but no matter how
much was guzzled down, no-one ever appeared the worse for wear; it was so stiflingly
hot in those kitchens and the pace of work so
frenetic that the wine simply oozed out of
your pores and into the soupe du jour! I do
remember, however, on one occasion, a souschef chasing a waiter with a threatening meat
cleaver, but that was simply a difference of
opinion.
I joined the RAF in the autumn of 1958, did
my basic training at Bridgenorth, volunteered
for aircrew and went down to the Isle of
Wight for selection. My application was, regretfully, turned down. I just did not have the
necessary aptitude to be entrusted with such a
piece of valuable machinery as an aeroplane.
I trained in Air Traffic Control at the Royal
School of Navigation at Shawbury, and on
completion of training was posted to Hong
Kong. I soon realised that there were numerous opportunities available to enable me to
escape the drudgeries of Service life. Sport
was one. I volunteered for both the rugby and
cricket teams, and, occasionally, when they
were desperately hard up for players I was
selected. These forays not only took me to
other Army and RAF installations in the Colony, but also to Singapore, Malaya and Korea.
I learned to sail, sub-aqua dive and, for relaxation, took A-levels. Every now and then, of
course, I had to work, but even then it was
with the civilian Air Traffic Authority at Kai
Tak airport where I learned to play wickedly
serious Poker. I had a wonderful time and
was horrified when I realised that I would
soon be returned to Blighty’s sunny shores.
Fearful of this I signed on for a further year on
the clear understanding that I could spend it
where I was. And the RAF agreed! During
the next months I visited both Japan and the
Philippines courtesy of the USAF and countries that don’t even exist anymore; Siam and
Indo-China, now of course, Thailand, Laos
and Cambodia. One evening, walking down
Nathan Road in Kowloon to catch the Star
Ferry to Victoria Island where I was to meet a
very attractive redheaded nurse from the military hospital on The Peak, I bumped into
Keith Watson (1950-55), walking in the opposite direction. We had not seen each other
since Keith had left school. We passed each
other by with only the briefest of greetings, no
more than a brief hello. Callow youth! I
never saw Keith again, but have become a
good friend of Gary, Keith’s elder brother,
who now lives in New Zealand. Anne and I
were in Melbourne in February of last year
and had hoped to meet up with Keith who
was living there, but Keith sadly died. That
makes this story somewhat more poignant.
The last few weeks of my RAF career were
spent at Acklington, near Newcastle upon
Tyne, firing either green or red Very flares at
11
aeroplanes from the runway caravan. I
missed! You have to have been in the RAF in
those days to know what I am talking about!
Having left the Service I was at a complete
loss. I had no idea what to do with myself. I
called upon the old school. Joey was not at all
surprised when I told him that I had no clear
concept of what I wanted to do with my life.
“You haven’t changed much, then,” he
mused. I tried all sorts of jobs; Local Government, the Scarborough Hospital Management
Committee, the Michelin Tyre Company, and,
in between jobs, the Cricket Club Members
Bar, The Scarborough and Whitby Brewery,
etc. etc. etc. It was during one of those inbetween times that I took a temporary Christmas job with Fosters Wine Merchants in Newborough, 6 weeks work only. I stayed with the
Group for over 30 years.
Only days before I was due to, once again,
become unemployed the Area Manager asked
me if I would like to join the company’s Management Trainee Scheme. My now wife and
baby daughter thought that this would be a
good idea, so off I went to London again.
Management in Newcastle and on Teesside
followed and whilst living in the North-East I
attended Newcastle-upon-Tyne University
where I studied for the Wines and Spirits Association Education Trust examinations. After
qualifying four years later, I was promoted to
Area Manager in North London. A year
passed followed by a move and promotion to
East Anglia, living near Newmarket and running an office in Bury St. Edmunds. Somehow
I came to the attention of the Group Marketing Director and he suggested, and was instrumental in forging, a new career path for
me. The following 25 years or so were spent in
Brand Marketing and Sales, culminating in
my being appointed a Director of two of the
companies within the Group. Somehow, I had
stumbled upon a job that I enjoyed, and
which both challenged and stretched me.
Even better, I was able to travel extensively
and quench my thirst on quality wines, all at
someone else’s expense.
A few years ago Grand Metropolitan, (my
company) and Guinness decided to merge to
form the then new super-group, Diageo.
There was an obscene wealth of senior managers and executives in the two companies
and buckets full of money swilling around in
the early retirement pot. I took full advantage.
Now retired and living in Shropshire with a
second home in Scarborough, married for
over 40 years to the same lady, with a daughter who studied the Law and is now with a
practice in Oswestry, and a granddaughter of
11 who is extremely bright and is committed,
even at that early age to becoming a vet, I
consider myself very fortunate. Without that
background of Grammar School education,
even though I did not take full advantage of
it, I would have been totally unprepared for
the opportunities that arose for me in my
months at the British Museum, my years in
the RAF and my subsequent career in the
Wine Trade. I look back on those schooldays
somewhat regretfully, but with many happy
memories and gratitude for the grounding
that Joey Marsden and his team gave me.
Some years ago, at June Blakemore’s retirement party, Norman Stoddard remembered
me and asked what I was doing for a living.
“I always knew you would make something
of yourself,” he said. “In spite of yourself.”
Thanks Stod. That’s one of the nicest things
that anyone has ever said of me.
Maurice Johnson (1941–46)
After leaving school my first job was in the
legal profession with
Geoff Nalton at Bedwell and Hoyle in
Queen Street In 1951 I
left for London. Allegedly, the streets
were paved with
gold. From 1951- 53 I
was employed by the
Rank Organisation in
Theatre Management.
12
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South Molton
North Devon EX36 4BL
Tel / Fax +44 (0)1769 572727
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quality Sweaters/ Pullovers in
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prices.
In 1953 I joined Schweppes and was involved in National Sales through regional
contract packers. In 1955 I joined Unigate
Foods, in London, as a Sales Manager. From
there, in 1960, to The Milk Marketing Board
where I stayed until 1966 as Marketing Manager for cheese and yoghurt.
From 1966–96 I was with the Swiss Cheese
Union, starting as the National Sales Promotion Manager, becoming Marketing Manager
and finally Managing Director for the United
Kingdom, Eire and Scandinavia. I retired in
1996.
Later in 1996 I joined Retainagroup, one of
the major names in car security and registration as Marketing Director for two years, and
am now a non-executive Director.
During these years I have been an active
Freemason, a charter member of Dunstable
Lions and am now a member of Scarborough
Lions.
I have been a Freeman of the City of London
since 1975 and a fellow of the Institute of
Directors since 1991.
My only claim to fame at school was when I
played 2nd witch in the production of Mac-
Farthings
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beth. The other two witches were, I think,
Leslie Craggs and Laurence Poole, but, regrettably, I believe that Laurence has now
died.
I attended school during the war years,
which was a vastly different experience to
school in peacetime. There were no School
trips, no Rugby, and, at least 5 lady teachers.
Griggs, Morley and Andrews were three of
those that I remember. Most of the male
teachers were of a certain maturity! I wonder
if anyone has stories to tell of these wartime
ladies. They were heroines in their way.
Colin Hurd (1952-58)
I started playing rugby
at Scarborough in 1958
and played mainly for
the first XV until 1968. I
was then persuaded to
play for the veterans
team for a few years
and finally retired in
1975. After that I was
Secretary of the club from 1973 to 1979 and
President in season 1988-89. Since that time I
have done very little because of work com-
13
mitments.
I played cricket for Scarborough from 1967
to 1981 mainly in the second team but some
seasons in the first XI. From 1975 to 1979 I
captained the second team in the East Yorkshire Cup Competition. I was mainly a batsman and scored over 5000 runs during my
time at Scarborough.
I served on Scarborough Cricket Club main
committee from 1977 to 1998, a continuous
stint of 21 years, ending up as vice chairman
mainly to do with the cricket side of things.
Before that I played at Cloughton and have
now returned there as Secretary.
After I retired from Scarborough Building
Society I took a temporary seasonal job at
the Town hall helping in the cash office
counting and banking the cash from car
parks etc.
I am married to Kate and have a daughter
Nicola and a son Richard.
(Editor: Further Committee Profiles will
appear in future issues)
FROM HERE AND THERE
Geoff Pugh writes from B.C.
Canada (1933-43)
I thought that you might be interested in
learning how Don Potts’ and my own paths
have crossed over the years.
After we both had left the Science 6th Don
went into the RAF and I, after an intensive,
but short Engineering course, joined the
RNVR After demob it was up to St. Catharine’s College, Cambridge and then 12 years
working in Trinidad.
In 1963 my family and I immigrated to Canada, finally settling down in Calgary, Alberta in 1969. Our 13-year stay there was
spent in complete ignorance of the fact that
Don was also living in Calgary. After I retired and had moved to the beautiful Okana-
gon Valley in British Columbia, through a
mutual friend, we met again. Since then we
still get together on occasion and e-mail each
other regularly. Unfortunately, I am unable
to travel much these days.
The May ’02 issue of the “Summer Times”
has an interesting memoir by Les Hartzig on
the Chamonix 1938 school camp. That wonderful 3-week camp remains strong in my
memory and in 1949 I returned to the campsite whilst touring France by motorcycle.
The water trough, so vividly remembered,
was still there and still full of glacier-cold
water.
It is many years now since I last visited Scarborough. Sorry to say, I am doubtful that I
will be able to return and attend a reunion
Dinner, but please relay my best wishes to
all Old Scarborians.
Graham Rew writes from
Lockerbie (1958-60)
I only recently came across the OSA website
and have enjoyed reading through the numerous articles in the recent editions of Summer Times which have stirred quite a few old
memories. I was at SBHS from 1958-1960,
starting at Westwood and leaving just over a
year after the move to Woodlands, when my
parents moved to Scotland. After finishing
school in Girvan in 1965 I joined the Royal
Bank of Scotland starting in Irvine. During
my banking career I worked mainly in
branches in Ayrshire, Glasgow and Dumfriesshire and finally opted for early retirement in 2000, while Manager at Lockerbie,
where I moved with my family in 1988.
Having seen the Whole School Group photograph of 1959 in which I am featured I realised after finding my own copy that I have
another version taken at the same time. In
my copy Frank ‘Billy’ Binder’s arms are almost unfolded (sad that he was not able to
enjoy a long and well deserved retirement).
The strong sunshine on the day caused
14
many eyes to close hence the reason more
shots were probably taken. I have meanwhile
sent attachments to Bill Potts of the school
photograph taken at Westwood in 1958.
I often wondered if anyone from my class of
2A ever managed to convince Norman
Stoddard, our Form Master at the time, that
the colour of a ‘red pillar box’ was in fact red.
I always remember him for introducing me to
a Russian gentleman by the name of
‘Isoverof’ to whom I often refer when calculating percentages.
Although my time at SBHS was short it created a lasting impression and I realised in
later years that I had to consider myself fortunate to have experienced what was a great
institution.
My application for OSA membership is on its
way.
Mrs Eileen Wood writes
I would appreciate any information you can
give to me regarding an old pupil, Donald
Stephenson OBE, CBE. I am researching the
possibility that he was a friend of TE Lawrence. I would be very grateful for any information that you can let me have.
Andrew Straughan writes
from Easingwold (1959-65)
As a new user ʺon-lineʺ, I must say what a
true delight it has been to view the school
photoʹs on the OSA website. It is hard to
imagine one left nearly 37 years ago - the pictures recall vivid memories, all the names
come flooding back. Many thanks to those
who have put so much effort into creating this
splendid pool of information.
I wonder, do you happen to have a list of who
is doing what, in my year? John Fielder for
example? It would be good to know how they
all fared.
If one could have part of life over again my
choice would be SHBS - and to make much
more of it second time around.
P.S. Yours truly is standing immediately behind HWM in the ʹ59 school photograph!
Richard Stevens writes from
Kirk Michael, Isle of Man
(1963-70)
Good to receive the latest Summer Times. The
Alchemist photo has caused much interest it
seems - I have a copy of the programme for
the performance - I will send you a copy should help identify the remaining people.
The tall one on the right is me - so you can at
least remove one question mark. I also have
some old rugby team photos that I will try to
send one of these days. There seems to be a
disappointing level of contribution from my
era at SBHS - 1964 to 1970 - rarely any messages or articles - I recognise only one name
from the list of emails published. One of these
days I will pen a contribution.
Mike Lester writes from
Staintondale (1949-57)
Congratulations on a another stunning magazine. Have not had time to explore thoroughly
as yet, but will eventually. Is the Christmas
Dinner members only or are wives and sweethearts invited?
(Editor: Members only Mike. But other
members have suggested opening up functions in future years. There seems to be a
minority in favour at present – but you will
be pleased to hear that there will be a joint
dinner with the SGHS this year to which
spouses may be invited – see the enclosed
order form)
Geoffrey Wilson writes from
Birmingham (1953-61)
I have kept in occasional touch via my elder
brother, John D Wilson (circa 1944-51) who
has been a member for many years; thought it
was about time I started to ʹlook backʹ!
15
Denis Cooper writes from
Thornton-le-Dale (1944-49)
I would like to support the message from Len
Plaxton. A visit to the old school at Westwood is a very good idea. Perhaps it would
be possible to arrange one for next spring?
Stan Halliday writes from
Stowmarket (1949-54)
Congratulations on the latest Mag ; who said
nostalgiaʹs not as good as it used to be? So
far, Iʹve had a contact from Ted Lancaster,
but no writ from Pete Hough. Should have
liked to have attended the dinner next week,
but a previous engagement in Munich will
prevent same. ( as you suspected, something
to do with national security, but canʹt say
anymore, you understand ) David, in a previous message you talked about a way to
obtain back numbers without the tedium of
down-loading. Could you run that past me
again, when you have a minute ? Many
thanks.
(Editor: Stan refers to the CD version of
Summer Times which contains all issues
since 1999 together with instructions, computer software and an Index – all for £2)
Gerald Harrison writes from
San Diego, California
(1939-45)
Many thanks for the Centenary edition of
Summer Times. It is just great! Congratulations to all involved in its publication.
Jean and I had fully intended to attend the
Centenary celebrations last June, but unfortunately I have had a severe health set back
which has prevented me from any travel for
some time.
I have recently been in communication with
John Knighton, George Kent and Stephen
Day. It’s great to get in touch with other Old
Boys once in a while.
Would it not be possible to publish a mem-
bership list? Anyone who did not wish to
have their details listed could be omitted, but
I would think that there would be very few
of these. You could make a small charge for
printing and distribution costs. Such a list
would be invaluable for members, enabling
them to get in touch with each other, if they
so wished.
Also, has the idea of a joint Boys and Girls
association been considered? I still think that
that would be a great idea.
(Associate Editor: A list of e –mail addresses
was published in the November 2002 edition. The Old Girls Association is now up
and running and increasing its membership
every day. We hope to hold joint functions
with the Ladies from time to time)
Ray Muir writes from Cayton
(1936-41)
Hearty congratulations on the November
issue of Summer Times. I received it upon
my return from Bristol having visited my son
there.
Whilst I was down there I used his form to
apply for tickets to both the Palm Court and
London events. We discussed the points
raised in your report about the continuance
of these two dates.
Personally, I think that the present format is
about right, and although there may be merit
in various regional events one has to remember that access to such venues is possibly
more restricted than to London, which is
accessible from all parts of the country. I
have always enjoyed the London Luncheon
and have usually managed to combine it
with a weekend break. This also suits my
wife very well. There has been criticism of
the cost of the meal, but major cities are not
far behind London prices. It must also be
said that the meals themselves are par excellence, in fact the last two, at the East India
Club and Mossiman’s were most enjoyable
and I thought very good value.
16
On the question of support for local events
throughout the year, I think that this depends
upon their nature having regard to the age
range. At my age I am very happy with the
two main events as they are at present and I
will continue to support them as long as I am
able.
John Hunter writes from
Brampton Cumbria
(1941-46)
Once again, my congratulations to the Committee on the excellent work that they all do
for us.
Thank you for your invitation to join the Old
Scarborians and for the latest issue of Summer
Times. What a great read!
Ronald Hutchinson writes
from Malvern (1945-53)
The article about the Chess club brought
memories flooding back. I was not a great
player nor was I able to attend after school on
a regular basis, as I had to collect the evening
papers from the Press Office and take them to
our shop for the evening deliveries. I did,
however, learn the basics. Frank Binder was
my form master in my last year at school.
Having been Head of History in a school
whose Head was GR Hovington I became
Head Master of Hanley Castle Grammar
School in Worcester, which I turned into a
Comprehensive and discovered that Les
Brown had taught there. I retired from the rat
race in 1991. I have a holiday home in Normandy where I spend half the year, and am
still very happily married.
(Editor: Ron’s article appears on page 44?)
John (Dave) Hudson writes
from Llanelli (1958-63)
Although I still return to Scarborough four or
five times per year I have lost touch with all
my old friends. If anyone remembers me and
would care to get in touch my address is:ERW DEG
32, Greenfield Terrace
Pontyberem
Llanelli, SA15 5AW
A brief resume of my life since leaving school:
1963-69 An engineering apprenticeship with
Rolls Royce in Derby. Qualified as Design
Draughtsman. HNC Mechanical Engineering.
1969-71 Bishop Lonsdale College, Derby
(Nottingham University).
1971-76 Teaching at Parkfields Comprehensive School, Derby. (B..Ed)
1976-2001 Teaching at Ysgol Rhydygon Special School in Camarthen, South Wales for
children with behavioural difficulties. (I
should say that most of my teachers at SBHS
would have said that I was eminently
suitable for this kind of work!)
Margaret, my wife, and I both enjoyed the
Old Girls’ Reunion Dinner and look forward
to the next time. (Editor: See enclosed booking form)
My membership is long overdue, but my
cheque will cover for a tie and CD. I am impatient to explore previous copies of Summer
Times.
Mike Hunter writes from
Edinburgh (1959-66 )
For Mr Potts
You must have been my physics teacher in the
1960s, for which many thanks.
I have two strong memories: you had degaussed minesweepers and told us that colour
TVs, then a marvel, needed degaussing too; I
contested with you that it was possible for a
car to decelerate at more than 1g.
(Bill Potts replied: As David Fowler says, in
his reply, Iʹm old (67 today, as it happens),
but not that old. If my father were still alive,
heʹd be looking forward to his 98th birthday
next May.
The fact is that he fell apart (medically
17
speaking) at the end of 1975 and died
within a short period (early January, 1976).
His widow (and my stepmother), Priska,
eventually married Jack Speight, whose
own wife died a few years after my fatherʹs
death. They still live in the house at 32 Lady
Edithʹs Avenue where I lived as a child
(with an eight-year gap from 1941 to 1948).
Jack Speight (who I sometimes refer to as
my step-stepfather) is now 81; Priska is 80.
The house was built in 1935 by my Uncle
Jack Fell [my motherʹs first cousin] and occupied in early 1936. The price was £1400!
Its market value today is probably more
than £150,000.
Unlike my father, I agree with you that a car
can decelerate at more than 1G (not g, which
is the SI symbol for gram). It happens all
the time in head-on collisions.
Incidentally, Iʹm one of a handful of Old
Scabs who went to university (Imperial
College, in my case) and then dropped out.
Notwithstanding that, I became a Fellow of
the British Computer Society in 1969 (while
living in Canada). Iʹm one of very few people to have achieved that status from outside Britain.
with a combination housekeeper/babysitter,
whom he found recumbently entertaining
an American serviceman on the sofa late
one evening, he sent my sister and me to
live with our maiden Aunt Mabel Cromack
(of Scarborough Corporation Catering Department Fame) on Throxenby Lane. That
was early 1943. The Fowler family (parents,
plus David and his sister, Phoebe) lived on
Throxenby Grove. I was 7 and David was a
precocious 4-1/2. We both joined in street
games with other kids in the neighbourhood and I remember one particularly
memorable picnic organised by Davidʹs
mother.)
David Andrews writes from
Leicester (1958-63)
Update on my situation. Taking early retirement from Ordnance Survey after 39+ years
service on 31st March 2003. Next appearance
in the dole queue, (not ready for the pipe and
slippers yet!)
Rowland Bruce writes from
Adelaide, Australia
(1949-54)
Iʹm pretty sure you must be the D G Fowler,
with whom I vied for Chemistry marks before I left to live in York in December 1954 If
so, fancy getting in contact?
Unless I suffer a deceleration of many Gs, I
expect to live much longer than my father
did. He suffered from asthma (as you may
remember) for most of his adult life. I canʹt
know for sure, but I suspect his poor medical condition (heart, kidneys, liver, all in
bad shape) leading to his death may have
been brought on by his fondness for a patent medicine he took daily for his asthma,
even after it had apparently (and spontaneously) ceased to be a problem. For a physicist, he made a surprising number of irrational decisions.
You tried to persuade me to turn the metal
wire clothes line into a dipole and reflector.
David Fowler and I go back a very long
way. While my father was doing his war
work, degaussing ships, my mother died.
After a somewhat disappointing experience
I married in 1965 and we set up in Leven
near Beverley. I was now a medical rep with
Beecham Laboratories. Had a son there,
b1966, moved to London in mid 68 when I
(Editor: after the above approach from the
Friends Reunited web site I contacted Rowland and he replied:)
You have it right. I lived in Heworth until I
went to work in Huddersfield for ICI in 1957,
but my parents lived in that house until 1972
and I used to go ʺhomeʺ most weekends.
18
became responsible for Harley Street and the
London teaching hospitals. Had a daughter
there born 1969. Pam and I emigrated to Adelaide in 1971, another daughter that year, who
now has 3 daughters of her own. Rob is unmarried and doing well in Sydney with Telstra, Kate is divorced and no kids, and is in
the marketing department of one of our local
football teams, which plays in the cup semifinal on Saturday.
I got my licence, the equivalent of the G8 vhf
one, in 1972, and my full one in 1974. (Editor:
Radio Ham licence). I seem to remember you
had an Eddystone 640 receiver. I must admit
that I have lost interest over the last 12 years
after disillusionment with the way things
were going. I did my best to be involved, being the Federal Councillor for the VK5 division of the Wireless Institute of Australia, the
RSGB equivalent, and also the VK5 president
for several years, but it was terribly political,
and after a feud between WA and NSW over
the direction of the WIA I resigned in 1993,
and have not bothered since.
I have had heart valve replacement surgery
twice, 1983 and 2001, the latter to replace the
first replacement, and am now retired and
trying hard not to lose too much on the stock
exchange! My sister still lives near Ravenscar,
and Pam and I were last there in September
2002. I sometimes wish we had stayed in London until retirement. Our house in Harrow is
up for sale at the moment and they are asking
£310,000. A nice tidy sum to return to Yorkshire and buy a replacement there!
If it rings any bells, I used to knock around
with Ian Hunter, Ricky Ford. Pete Dawson,
Mike Barker. Dave Pottage will probably remember me. We played chess together. I
thought his cousin, (female) was the most
gorgeous thing I had ever seen when Arthur
Costain had us sing in some combined school
choir event. I see Valerie Berryman is a member of the Old Scholars. Not sure how that
would come about, but anyway, she attended
the same church and youth club as I, St
Columbaʹs in Dean Road. Billy Binder used to
come and visit me at Scholes Park (Nathan
Sheen lived around the corner. Heʹs younger
of course, but his sister was our age. I think
she married Peter Emms,) when I was ill with
rheumatic fever, (hence the heart trouble,)
and Jock Roxborough was most upset that it
interfered with my blossoming career as a
prop forward just as he decided I was good
enough for the U 14ʹs. That puts me in with
Richard Hartley and Graham Thornton, I suppose. I notice Gerald Hinchcliffe is still going
strong. He tried to teach me Latin, the only
subject out of 9 that I failed at GCE O level.
(Editor: I telephoned Gerald Hinchliffe –
now 81 – in Nottingham as I could not recall
him teaching Latin. He told me that when
Latin masters left the school there was usually a gap before a replacement arrived, and
in those gaps Hov was “asked” by Joey to
take senior Latin whilst Gerald was “asked”
to take the 2nd and 3rd years. By the way,
Rowland, I see from our records that you’re
not yet an OSA member. Life membership is
only £10 Stg)
OBITUARIES
Raymond ASHFORD
(1944-47)
Beryl M Ashford writes
I am sorry to advise you of the death of my
husband on February 14th 2002 just short of
his 72nd birthday. His health had been failing
for some time, the end coming very suddenly
after a visit to the theatre. He made it back to
the car and died, appropriately, in the driving
seat. Mercifully we had not set off!
Ray attended Scarborough High School for
Boys from 1944-47, then, after a spell in the
Royal Navy, he did a teacher training course
at St. John’s College York, graduating in 1954.
Specialising in Physics and Maths together
with a knowledge of Radar gained from his
Navy days, he was drawn into the world of
TV and Radio and taught the apprentices at
19
York Technical College. His own interests led
him into the start-up of the computer revolution and he ended up being a lecturer in Computer Studies who knew the science as well as
the art of his subject.
A 2 year sabbatical in the early 70’s was spent
in Libya with UNO helping to set up technical
education in Benghazi; a wonderful experience for all the family. On his return, he resumed his career and studied with the Open
University, gaining his degree in 1978.
He retired from teaching at 60, but was prevailed upon by the NYCC to continue running, on a part time basis, a small service department for schools all over North Yorkshire,
helping them to keep their computers going.
This grew into what became a very successful
business, and Raymond was in his element.
However, retirement came at last, with many
long days and nights spent at his new computer. Then one day, whilst visiting his sister
in Nottingham we saw a copy of the OSA
magazine. (brother-in-law, John Crabtree, was
a member). Ray was thrilled to read of the
doings of the Old Boys and staff of his era.
Tales of Billy Binder & Co. were repeated
endlessly with great enjoyment. He joined the
Association, bought the tie and looked everyone up on the Internet.
I am sure that you will be glad to know how
much enthusiasm was raised at this address
from your excellent publication - a veritable
treasure chest of memories for my dear husband during his last year or so.
I apologise for missing the deadline for the
2002 editions with this obituary, but I could
not face up to writing it until now. I realise
that it is of rather a rambling nature but I expect that you will exercise your editorial
privilege and treat it accordingly.
William Horsley BARKER
Known to his friends as Bill, he died in February aged 98.
He owned a bus company called Horsley’s in
North Marine Road but sold it after the Second World War.
He was a founder member and secretary of
Scarborough Flower Fund Homes before retiring in March 1987 and a Rotarian for many
years.
He leaves a widow and two sons.
Derek BIELBY, DFC
(1934-39)
We were advised of Eric’s death but have
received no report. We understand Derek was
from Pickering and a retired dentist.
Pierre GANGUET (1964-65)
Stuart Marriott writes...
Old Scarborians and members of staff who
were at Woodlands in 1964-65 will remember
our French assistant of that year, Pierre
Ganguet. They will also be saddened to hear
of his death, in 1999, at far too early an age.
Pierre came from the University of Grenoble
where he had been a member of the university ski team, hardly the most appropriate
training for the North-East of Yorkshire, but
he loved his time in Scarborough. He lodged
with me at our house in Falsgrave Road. We
used to go fishing and walking together, but
much of his spare time was spent with those
other freewheeling teachers, Gordon Wood
and Mike Owen. He was also a great favourite with some of the younger staff members at
the Girls High School. Pierre topped off his
year by joining staff and sixth formers on the
Lyke Wake Walk.
We remained in touch until the end. On our
visits to France we always had to take a supply of Guinness, Dublin bottled, which Pierre
held in high regard.
In the late 60’s, after qualifying as a teacher of
English he married Sophie Sarazan. His first
“posting” as a teacher was to Givet, where, he
claimed, they lived on apples and whatever
fish that he could catch in the River Meuse.
Eventually they settled in Orleans, but Pierre
20
never lost touch with his home village of St.
Bonnet in the department of Hautes Alpes.
He never lost his passion for fishing and
hunting, French style.
Methodist Church for upwards of 40 years.
He also enjoyed watching cricket and was a
Life Member of the Scarborough Cricket
Club. His wife pre deceased him but he
leaves 4 children, one of whom, Phil, is a
member of the Association.
We knew that Pierre was showing signs of
diabetes but was coping. Then, in the summer of 1999, we learned that he had developed cancer of the pancreas and that it had
defeated all attempts at therapy.
Denis SAUNDERS (1936-43)
Graham JONES (1936-44)
Sandy, as he was always known at school,
passed away on 16th February 2003.
Graham Jones died on 4th October, 2002, and
leaves a widow, Marjorie (nee Atkinson). The
funeral took place at the Church of St Nicholas, Ganton on Friday, 11th October, 2002.
He attended school at the same time as Past
President Ron Gledhill (1936-44) and was
involved in running the GBL restaurant - at
one time in Huntriss Row.
John MACKENZIE-ROLLINSON
John Mackenzie-Rollinson died in March
2003 aged 49. He attended Northstead Primary School and the High School for Boys.
He was a solicitor at Medley Drawbridge
before working at Bedwells solicitors from
1981 to 1987. He later ran a telecommunications firm which installed telephones in offices, schools and homes.
He leaves a widow, who is daughter of a
former Mayor of Scarborough Liz Mackenzie,
and two sons.
Brian SPEAK (1936-41)
Colin Hurd writes
Brian Speak was born on the 1st May 1924
and attended the High School between 19361941. He died suddenly on 17 January 2003.
After serving in the Fleet Air Arm during the
war he joined Scarborough Building Society
as a cashier in 1948 and progressed to Chief
Executive in 1972. He retired in 1984 although he remained a Director until 1992. He
was very much involved with St John’s Road
Ron Gledhill writes
I first encountered him in the Infants of Gladstone Road School; I was nearly 5 years old
and he would be 6. He was a year ahead of
me as we progressed to the Juniors, and I
then caught up with him in 1936 when we
both went to the High School.
As a youngster he was a keen ball player –
tennis, cricket, rugby - but his first love was
soccer at which he excelled. If a ball was being kicked around in the playground you
could be sure that Sandy would be there!
He played in the school teams, and was selected to play for the England ATC team in
1943.
Sandy then went into the RAF in 1944 and
qualified as a Sergeant Signaller – and played
a lot of cricket and football! In 1945 the demand for aircrew dwindled and Sandy went
on an MT course. He told me a hilarious
story about when he was reversing a 3 ton
truck. He was leaning out of the open
driver’s door, and he said with his quiet
smile, “I fell out of the bloody thing. The MT
Sergeant was not very pleased.”
On demob he went up to Oxford where he
was awarded a Blue after only 10 weeks. He
was also appointed Football Captain. Whilst
up at Oxford he contracted TB but recovered
to gain another Blue.
After graduating he taught Geography for a
short period at a school at Westcliff-on-Sea,
and then moved to Malvern College, where
he eventually became a House Master.
21
He married Eileen Thomlinson in 1952, who
regrettably died in 2002.
After “retirement” from Malvern College
Denis was appointed Soccer Principal at the
School of Excellence at Lilleshall and was
there for 4 years.
The highlights of his soccer career were an
England Amateur Cap, a brilliant period in
University football, and then Captain of Pegasus. This superb Amateur team won the Amateur Cup twice; in 1951 and 1953.
His latter years were marred by ill-health and
losing Eileen in 2002 was a bitter blow.
He was one of Scarborough’s famous sons
and will be sadly missed.
Footnote from Ron Gledhill: My wife & I
attended the funeral at Malvern on 25th February 2003 – I went as a friend and as representative of the OSA.
Eric Thomlinson writes
Thank you most sincerely for your condolences and updates. Glad you have the obituary from the Telegraph re Denisʹs Golden
years in Soccer. My reminiscences of Denis
are the upward looking view of a fourth/fifth
grader regarding this Tall, Handsome Ace in
both Sports and Academics. Very popular
with the girls… Dancing slowly and gracefully in the centre of the floor at the Royal or
the Spa…
We did have several very enjoyable meetings
over the years with them both in Malvern and
in Florida.
He was a fine Man , a Gentle Man, a Super
Sportsman, my Brother in Law. He will be
missed by many!!
from the Daily Telegraph
Denis Saunders, who has died aged 78, was
one of the last of the Corinthian-style schoolmaster footballers.
He twice captained Pegasus FC to victory in
the FA Amateur Cup, in 1951 and 1953, the
only occasions when an amateur club drew
100,000 spectators to Wembley. The team,
drawn from past and present Oxford and
Cambridge players, enjoyed a brief but meteoric existence after the war. Saunders, a slim,
strolling wing-half, appeared in its first match
in 1948, and in its last in 1963, when Pegasus
played against Marston United in the Oxfordshire Senior Cup.
Dennis Fowler Saunders was born on December 19 1924 and went to Scarborough High
School, where he was a keen rugby player. He
trained as a navigator for the RAF, with which
he started to play football seriously; but the
war ended before he could see action.
Saundersʹs enthusiasm for football was fuelled when he went up to Exeter College, Oxford. There he joined a group of relatively
mature undergraduates, including the centrehalf Ken Shearwood, as well as Tony Pawson
and John Tanner, who, like Saunders, were to
gain amateur international caps for England.
These four were to be cornerstones of the new
club, which reflected those ethical standards
which the Corinthians amateur club had established at the beginning of the century.
A scratch team, playing in no league and unable to get together each season until after the
university match in December, Pegasus had a
precarious existence from the outset. Yet
Saundersʹs equanimity and benign discipline
were a key factor in an astonishingly rapid
rise to the forefront of the game.
In their first season, Pegasus reached the
Amateur Cup quarter-final, losing to Bromley.
When they won the cup two years later, Saunders was carried off the field on the shoulders
of his team after their 2-1 victory over Bishop
Auckland. Some considered the performance,
masterminded in midfield by Saunders, James
Platt and John Dutchman, to be technically
superior to the FA Cup Finalʹs professional
encounter a week later between Newcastle
22
and Blackpool.
In those days there was little incentive for
outstanding amateurs to turn professional for
a maximum wage of £15 a week. Saundersʹs
Wembley prominence earned him his only
cap a month later, in a 3-2 victory over the full
Finland national side. Two years later, Saunders led Pegasus to a record 6-0 victory over
Harwich. By then he had become a geography
master at Malvern, where he also took charge
of football training. His influence was immediate. The school went unbeaten in four seasons, and, between 1956 and 1978, the Old
Malvernian side won the Arthur Dunn Cup
nine times.
The winning team of 1957 included Ian (later
Lord) MacLaurin who, in his memoirs, recalled playing as a schoolboy against Oxford
Centaurs; following a goal, MacLaurin had
run to embrace the scorer, only to receive
Saundersʹs sotto voce rebuke: ʺDonʹt ever do
that again, or Iʹll cut your hand off. Youʹre
there to score goals, not to make an exhibition
of yourself.ʺ
MacLaurin observed that, while he would
never have been much of an academic, ʺI did
learn a lot from sport. If anything helped to
shape my future, it was two masters at Malvern, George Chesterton (a cricketer for
Worcestershire) and Denis Saunders.ʺ
Such was Saundersʹs reputation that, in 1984,
he was invited by the Football Association to
be academic headmaster at their new school
of excellence at Lilleshall, Shropshire, in partnership with Dave Sexton, the director of
coaching. His proteges there included Andy
Cole.
In his history of Pegasus, Ken Shearwood
wrote that he never knew a player with a
calmer disposition than Saunders: ʺHe
seemed to have all the time in the world to
collect and do what he wanted with the ball.ʺ
For many years Saunders contributed schoolsʹ
football match reports to The Daily Telegraph.
Denis Saunders, who died on February 16,
was predeceased by his wife Eileen. He is
survived by a son and daughter.
(Editor: In the accompanying 1943 SBHS 1st
XI photo Denis Saunders appears 3rd from
left, front row, next to HW Marsden)
23
Peter TOY (1928-32)
Doug Owen writes
Peter Toy, who died recently at the age of 88,
was a gregarious character who spent his
entire career, with the exception of his war
service, in the Post Office. He started as a
messenger boy and graduated to counter
clerk.
Like most Post Office personnel in the 1930’s
he was in the Territorial Army. When war
broke out in 1939 he was called up into the
Royal Corps of Signals, commissioned and
sent to France with the British Expeditionary
Force. Peter was evacuated from Dunkirk
and after several years service came out of
the army with the rank of Captain.
Returning to the Post Office he transferred
from the postal business to telecoms as a
Sales Representative in the Bridlington area.
He has various subsequent appointments,
some in Lincolnshire.
Peter’s final appointment was as Chief Sales
Superintendent in the North Area of London, where he and I met up again and for
many years enjoyed both the OSA London
dinners and Midlands dinners together.
Besides being a keen golfer he was an ardent
cricket enthusiast, member of MCC and Middlesex County Cricket Club and, not least,
Scarborough Cricket Club. He came to Scarborough regularly for the Cricket Festival
and we enjoyed many a drink in the pavilion
bar.
As a boy Peter had been in the ELO (Earl of
Londesborough’s Own) Scout Troop and he
loved to reminisce with other former boy
scouts of the troop.
A bachelor, Peter lived for many years in a
private hotel in Muswell Hill until his retirement when he bought a flat in Enfield. Towards the end of his life he moved to North
Wales to be near his sister, but when his illness became more severe he moved to a pri-
vate nursing home in Llangollen where he
died.
Peter Toy had many friends throughout the
country and will be sadly missed.
Bernard CROSBY (1922-26)
We are advised of the Reverend Crosby’s
death. An obituary will appear in the next
issue.
John YEADON (1945-53)
We were advised of John’s death but have so
far received no obituary.
MEMORIES
MEMORIES OF A GIRL AT
THE BOYS’ HIGH SCHOOL
by Gwyneth Foster
My father (A.E. Jones, M.A.) taught at the
Boys’ High School from 1944 to 1958. He was
born on 23rd October, 1895 and died on 2nd
May, 1974, the same year as Joe Marsden. A
few months before he died he appeared on
ITV’s “This is your life, Vic Feather,” whom
he had taught at Hanson High School for
Boys in Bradford. In 1932 my father was
made a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society. These are some of my memories of our
time in Scarborough.
The first Christmas that we spent in Scarborough we were surprised on 23rd by a large
group of sixth formers singing carols. It was
an impromptu choir who serenaded the staff
one night and, on Christmas Eve as many of
the town hostelries as possible. They were
collecting for the Lady Mayoress’ Benevolent
Fund and asked my friend and I to join
them. We were made very welcome at all the
houses and were generally offered refreshments. There was one objection, though,
when we discovered that the Methodists at
the front were refusing alcohol on behalf of
the whole group, but some gentle elbowing
resolved the problem. Bon Clarke was visited each year, but we were never offered the
24
cold cocoa for which he was famous, nor a
game of table tennis. He always asked for
“Nazareth,” but as we never had time to rehearse anything our rendition was never very
good. Some years later I made a point of learning the carol and dedicated it to Bon’s memory. We would sing “Christians Awake” at the
stroke of midnight on the South Cliff and then
wend our weary way homeward.
I remember a fish and chip supper which Joey
had provided in the Dining Hall after a performance of “Hamlet”. After supper we are
asked to help with the washing up. There were
dozens of plates to wash but we enjoyed the
evening so much that we turned up for duty
for both the Saturday matinee and evening
show. We had a marvellous time.
“H.M.S. Pinafore,” under the direction of Mr
Costain, was a great success, but three evening
performances and a matinee was quite something even though, at the time, it seemed effortless. When Cossie put on a production of
“Merrie England” at The Open Air Theatre, the
first post war performances there, they got the
priorities right when they opened the first
scene with, “Thank you Master Shakespeare,
thank you Mr. Costain.” I was rather shy of
the Costains, but when invited to tea by them,
he smilingly said, “Do you like Father
Brown?” and switched on the Light Programme.
Ferdie Freeman was tutoring me at Maths as I
had carried a “class exam” for two years in a
three year Chemistry course and couldn’t afford to fail again and so lose my degree. Coming from his home one evening, and whilst
waiting for the bus to Ayton I overheard a
group of boys swopping accounts of their recent experiences at Juvenile Court. One worthy, in a strong Scarborough accent declared,
“He says now I’m going to fine you four and
thrupence and he bangs the table with his little
toffee hammer and says, and don’t you go and
do it again. I wonder what they do with all
those fines? I’ll bet the Mayor and the whole
Corporation go down on to the Foreshore and
blow it all on shrimps and winkles!”
Pike Richardson, unfortunately, suffered from
my clumsiness. One day, after Speech Day, we
were invited to tea with the staff. Whilst holding a cup of tea I was introduced to Pike. Small
as he was he had a mighty handshake, which
resulted in my spilling the entire contents of
the cup all over his best suit. I was so embarrassed!
We always marvelled at Joe Marsden’s strong
constitution. He always found the hard and
tasteless school pies quite digestible, even
though everyone else always left them uneaten
on their plates.
Joey’s tact, or lack of it, was quite legendary.
One boy who always came to school on a motor cycle and who had sight in only one eye,
and was therefore, deemed to be at some risk,
was asked by Joey, “…..er, is your eye glass?”
To Mr Freeman with his arm injured by gunshot wounds and supported by and fastened
to, a large metal frame, was asked, “Do you
think it’ll have to come off?” Another classic!
Commenting on the suitability of the stage
blocks being used as scenery for the Captain’s
soliloquy in Act 2 of “H.M.S. Pinafore,” “Get
those things moved! It looks as if Appleton’s
sitting on a damned bucket.”
MEMORIES OF A GIRL AT THE
GIRLS’ HIGH SCHOOL
by Joy Hodgson (nee Youle)
On a recent visit to my step-brother John Corradine (1949-54) in Wroxham, I was very interested in his collection of Old Scarborians
magazines as they brought back many happy
memories. I attended SGHS from 1939-46 and I
enclose some photos taken at the harvest camp
at Myton-on-Swale in 1943. A small group of
girls attended, principally to assist with domestic duties, but I remember many occasions
when we were delivered in an open-backed
lorry to the fields to pull carrots and flax, collect potatoes and stook barley sheaves. In 1943,
I think, boys and girls rehearsed and presented
25
a play, whose name I cannot remember,
though I do recall my character was called
Poppae! Mr Isherwood was in charge and Mr
Marsden visited, as shown in the photograph.
Another activity in which we were invited to
join the boys was a ballroom dancing class,
held after school in the hall at Westwood and
conducted by Mr Isherwood. His partner for
the demonstrations was Mrs Rice and the
music was always Victor Sylvester!
Best wishes to your magazine and to many
friends from “the old days”.
(Editor: I’ve done a little research Joy. Below
are the names of those attending, together with
a piece, “Dinner At Myton”. I’ve also found an
article on this particular camp . We don’t have
room to reproduce it here but a copy is on it’s
way to you.)
List of Myton Campers
Form VI: Davison, Davies, Witty, Armstrong,
more, Pittam, Dunning. Form VL: Capes,
Stead, Whittleton, Wood. Form VU: Bray.
Form IVL:_Appleton, Barrett, Foster, Hall,
Fewster, Thomlinson, Knox. Form IVU Bradley, Christian, Pennock, Ayress, Read, Pearson. Form IIIL: Bagshaw, Francis, Mercier.
Sharp, Form IIIU: Allaker, Cooper R. V., Enevoidsen, Grime, Hewett, Smith P., Willis,
Winspear, Scriminger. Form IIIA: Jefferson,
Partridge, Temple. Form IIL: Feather, King,
Melton, Nickson, Parish. Form IIU: Appleby,
Clayton, Daniel, Hargrave, Reay, Sothcott,
Liddiatt. Girls’ High School: Vivien Young,
Wendy Ramm, Joy Youle, Rita Lancaster,
Sheila Showers, Flora Miliner, Sheila Rayner,
Barbara Atkinson, Enid Sykes, Kathleen Williams, Eileen Cousans, Audrey Watson, Margaret Williamson, Betty Sewell, Pamela
Langstreth. Girls’ High School Staff: Misses
Driver, Howells, Higgs, Adcock, Mrs. Boyes.
And also Misses Cameron and Stephenson, of
Newcastle Domestic Science College.
SBHS Staff: Mr C Isherwood (Master in
Charge), Messrs Marsden, Freeman, Johnson,
Taylor, Rossington, Liddicott, McNicol,
Hanes, Stoddard, Wallhead, Mr and Mrs Wilmut, Mrs. Rice.
DINNER AT MYTON
The backroom boys had thought up another
paying ramp,
They rounded up Scarborough’s schoolboys
and stuck ‘em in a camp,
It was raining every evening, so we dined out
in the damp,
It was lovely down at MYTON on the farm.
They brought two domestic students from
Durham on a course,
They made good Yorkshire pudding but
some seniors grabbed for yours,
So when we wanted dinner, why we dragged
‘em back by force,
Above: The Myton-on-Swale Harvest camp to which Joy Hodgson refers, and, right, Cyril Isherwood
26
There was a funny fellow there, I think they
called him Joss, And when the farmer saw him
he was really at a loss,
So he bunged a halter on him, ‘cos he thought
he was a hoss,
But life down there at MYTON wasn’t really
bad,
They brought a bevy of High School girls and
we felt very glad,
If you cursed ‘em down your table you were a
frightful cad,
We had a bearded chappy on the camp, called
Isherwood,
And in “One Night at Nero’s” there it was
indeed quite good,
But when he served our dinner it got mixed
up with the pud,
We worked hard in the fields all day, it really
was a bore,
But on sitting down to dinner it weren’t done
to ask for more,
For they blamed every shortage on this tantalizing war,
It was lovely down at MYTON on the Swale.
MEMORIES OF STOD
by John Rice (1947-56)
His relentless cheerfulness may have been, on
occasions, irritating to
his colleagues, but Norman Stoddardʹs many
virtues were readily
acknowledged, and for
us boys there was never
a dull moment when he
was around. He didnʹt
take us for Maths, but he filled in from time to
time for Pike, and when this happened even
those who werenʹt much good at the subject
perked up and enjoyed themselves. The secret
was, of course, the humour. While other teachers
tried their hardest to amuse, with Stod you felt it
always came naturally. Some of his jokes were
straight out of the gag-book. He had a good supply of riddles too, and there was one he would
invariably trot out when the subject was logarithms (it was mentioned recently in Summer
Times). As far as I remember, it had something to
do with sines and cosines: ʺWhy does a mouse
when it spins?ʺ I knew the answer to this one,
because Iʹd come across it in the same book that
Stod must have had, and its pointlessness had
struck me in much the same way it must have
struck him. The answer, as no doubt every Old
Scarborian of that vintage will know, is, ʺBecause
the higher the fewer.ʺ No, it doesnʹt make any
sense at all, and presumably it isnʹt meant to. But
Stod thought it a useful aide-mémoire.
One of the extra-curricular jobs that Stod undertook, quite apart from games, camps and other
outdoor pursuits, was helping to run the tuckshop. One day a rumour went round during the
morning that there would be a delivery of
doughnuts straight out of the bakerʹs oven in
time for the mid-morning break. Ferdie Freeman
was selling them off a trolley in the corridor, but
for some reason we didnʹt notice him and so
queued up as usual at the tuck-shop. ʺDo you
want doughnuts?ʺ asked Stod. ʺTheyʹre selling
like hot cakes outside!ʺ When he realised what he
had said, he was beside himself with laughter.
During my time in the 6th Form, Jock Roxburgh
decided that it was pointless forcing those of us
who actively disliked the game and werenʹt any
good at it to play rugby. So he introduced shinty,
reputedly a Scottish form of hockey played with
unsophisticated sticks and a really hard ball. On
one occasion when Stod was refereeing our
game, this ball struck one of our number in a
highly sensitive area of the anatomy. The poor
chap was felled and lay on the ground, writhing.
Stod rushed over and, having ascertained that he
wasnʹt crippled for life, turned to the rest of us
and said, ʺThatʹs called a cannon in another
game, isnʹt it?ʺ Incidentally (this has nothing to
do with Stod), I later realised that the game Jock
had introduced us to was an irregular form of
shinty, if indeed it was shinty at all. I was inter-
27
viewed for a place at Queenʹs College, Oxford,
by a fearsome Scot named McDonald, who
questioned me about the games at SBHS.
When I described our winter activity, he
turned puce and exclaimed, ʺShinty? Thatʹs not
shinty!ʺ I never did discover what it really was.
Stod left SBHS for a time to become Headmaster of the Friarage School. As can be imagined,
he was a popular Head, a fact that I was able to
verify at first hand, since I spent a couple of
weeks there as part of my teacher training.
Some of the staff used canes (there was nothing
against that in those days), but to his credit
Stod exerted his authority by force of personality alone. He was so attached to Scarborough
that when the Friarage closed he wouldnʹt
leave the town in search of another Headship,
but chose to return to SBHS as an assistant
master - much the best way for a man of his
talents to be employed.
FURTHER IMPERFECT
MEMORIES
by Peter Newham (1954-61)
In the 1950s, when
black and white television and the occasional trip to the
Odeon
represented
the ultimate in teenage excitement (at
least to one who had
previously led a sheltered life) the annual
School Camp seemed to represent a whole
new spectrum in adventure and experience
(although often more in anticipation and
retrospect than in reality).
Whether character-building or genuinely
educational should perhaps be left for others
to judge but my memories of Torridon in the
later 1950’s (memory fails me as to the exact
year) certainly fall into the primitive at the
time but retrospectively enjoyable category,
particularly to those of a then wimpish disposition (to which I plead guilty!)
In fact, subsequent life long aversion to porridge owes much to the memories of large
containers of glutinous and nutty flavoured
(whether deliberately or accidental I know
not) slurry reposing in a hay box overnight,
to be dispensed in semi solid form the next
morning as a nutritious and certainly filling
breakfast!
The only other memory of Torridon, apart
from the wild and beautiful scenery, (to
which I have vowed many times to return
but never achieved), and which is graven on
my mind is my one and only experience of
the digging (and subsequent use) of latrines:
use of which at night in the absence of any
illumination, demonstrated the need for
feats of acrobatic skill in balancing whilst
simultaneously holding a torch which I have
never before or since attempted.
My recollection of subsequent Camps (even
Cairngorm with a similar porridge resembling the slough of despond) was, as I recall,
tempered by civilised toilet blocks and
proper washing facilities, irrespective of
whether these were used as frequently as
intended.
As an aside, the highlight of the Cairngorm
camp was perhaps our assisting at a forest
fire in the Rothiemurchus Forest, rather than
the ascent of Cairngorm itself, which was
surprisingly rounded and unmountainlike,
and which now with chair-lifts and major
development has no doubt changed completely.
On another theme – two under-rated teachers who seemed to have attracted little attention in Summer Times, but who with hindsight were significant influences in our allegedly formative years, were “Spike” Jones
and Mr. Giblett (the latter of whom I cannot
recall being honoured by a nickname).
The former, mentioned in the previous
Magazine in respect of his dictation of interminable notes, alternated between a requirement for an essay one week and a drawing
28
from the book on Greek/Roman history the
succeeding week. The educational value of
these drawings still eludes me, and I have a
significant recollection of Baz Howes proudly
passing around his version of a drawing of the
statute of Adonis so ludicrously and exaggeratedly well- endowed as to attract Spike’s red
ring round the offending area, giving nought
out of ten as a mark and a demand for a further deflated version.
My other recollection of Spike was personal
and intended at the time to embarrass me into
submission, in that having forgotten my homework I was marched up and down before the
Class in a headlock, reciting the pressing need
to not to repeat this transgression. Discipline of
this nature (which may now offend the Human
Rights legislation) was not unusual, though
whether it contributed to our long term education or character is debatable. I can however
still recall the embarrassment. However, the
interest created by Spike in terms of attention
to detail and interest in history hopefully survived, an entirely different style to Biff Smith,
who continued our historical education in an
altogether different vein.
Mr. Giblett, whose seemingly quiet and selfeffacing manner concealed both firm discipline
and considerable communication skills (aIbeit
that I did not appreciate this at the time) did
inspire attention. This was particularly the case
with Physical Geography and our exploration
of Ordinance Survey sheets of a number of
areas in the British Isles, from Malham Tarn to
the Dorset coast, although my arrogant assumptions as to the detailed knowledge acquired as a result of this was seriously deflated
by subsequently seeing that in real life these
settings bore little resemblance to my essays
and imagination.
He had, also, to my recollection, a keen interest
in photography, demonstrating photographic
landscapes in class, and occasionally explaining about the related developing and printing
of these, and I can recall his encouragement at
my first attempt at contact printing from nega-
tives, in respect of which I belatedly wish I had
paid more attention at the time.
To me, this A-Level Geography represented an
area of particular interest, apart from my History and French, but a Degree in Geography
appeared then only ultimately to lead to a career in teaching, possibly becoming a Town
Planner, or perhaps branching into Geology, a
subject far too scientific for me!
In my wisdom or otherwise Law appeared to
offer a more interesting perspective – albeit
then a total stab in the dark - which brings me
back to 21st Century reality and where I am
now!
RECOLLECTIONS
by Derek McNaney (1952-60)
The arrival of the November 2002 OSA Summer
Times has finally spurred me on to write of
some of my memories of the High School and
what I have been doing since.
My start at the High School was somewhat
ignominious. I recall Joey Marsden bringing
out a cardboard box every assembly in which
were lost property items. I had only been at the
school as a lowly first former for about two
weeks when Joey reached into the box and
held aloft a cap. In his inimitable mumble he
stated” Here’s a cap belonging to McNancy would he please come and collect it”. Naturally for months after I was dubbed “Nancy”...
not a good start.
Other major recollections are:
•
•
•
when the ‘bad boys’ from 5A got their own
back on Bon Clarke and turned everything
upside down in his classroom., desks, blackboard etc.
dropping in to the Ramshill pub on the way
up to Oliver’s Mount to play rugby.
the time when Dave Chapman baited Biff
Smith to the point where Biff Smith charged
up the aisle between the desks towards Dave
who then had to make his escape out of one
29
of the back windows and step out on the
very small ledge outside.
• having
chess lessons in the first year with
Billy Binder whose frequent replies to requests to go to the toilet were, “stick a cork
in it boy”, or “tie a knot in it boy.” I wonder
how this reply would go down nowadays?
• the
times when my frequent merriment at
Billy Binder’s famous mannerism “uh huh”
got me in “chess gang”. This happened so
often that I eventually began to like the
game, and this led to my only real claim to
fame, that of Senior Chess Champion in
1958. My prize, a book on chess, is still one
of my prize ;possessions. Incidentally Billy
always used to comment when I was playing that my style reminded him of Sutton, a
past chess player in the club. I often won-
dered what Sutton was like, and lo and
behold 45 years later whilst reading Michael Rines’ account of Billy Binders chess
write-ups I found out. Sutton was “sticky,
close and dour who delves in Tarrasch to
the eyebrows and conquers by sheer weight
of study”, - so I am left wondering whether
this comment was a compliment or not!
In the previous issue, I notice that Fred
Crosby mentioned the Castle Quartet, with
Fred on piano, Frank Leppington clarinet, Ian
Hunter on trumpet and myself on drums. We
used to play at the Mere Social Club even
when our repertoire was about half a dozen
numbers. I was also interested to read of
Mac’s Jazz Club as mentioned by Chris
Found. This took place in the basement of
Cromwell Hotel, my parents’ establishment.
This band was composed of: Ian Hunter on
LEFT: L to R:
Derek McNaney- drums;
Mick O’Neil -piano;
Mal Moore - banjo;
Frank Leppington - clarinet;
Ian Hunter - trumpet
RIGHT: L to R
Back:
Peter Dawson, Rod Green
(deceased), Ian Gofton; Peter
Simpkin;
Front:
John
Brinkler;
Derek
McNaney; Derek Price; Richard Hutton; Bern Lake.
30
trumpet, Frank Leppington and Dennis Hitch
on clarinets, Mick O’Neill and Mike Barmby
piano, Mat Moore banjo, and myself on
drums. We even made a couple of LP’s over
the few years we played there and individuals
still remind me of the club. Not every parent
would have allowed fifty or so kids to congregate downstairs with the accompanying din
and I am eternally grateful to them.
After leaving the High School, I attended Alsager Training College with Pete Simkin and
Bern Lake, then went on to teach in Leeds for
five years, playing in most of the jazz clubs at
night. I studied for a further year at Worcester
Training College, then stuck a pin in the
Times Educational Supplement and applied
along with my new wife Ann to a place called
Foremost, in Alberta ,Canada.
At the end of eight days on the liner from
Liverpool and a further three days by train,
we finally arrived in Foremost. This town
boasted 500 inhabitants, had mud sidewalks,
tumbleweed bowling down the main street
and a temperature of 95 degrees. Quite a
change from Leeds. We really enjoyed our
time there in a beautiful modern school. The
catchment area stretched down to Montana in
the States. Over the ten years that we spent
there, I became vice-principal and took two
degrees at the University of Lethbridge, a city
seventy miles distant. We returned to Scarborough so that our two children could spend
more time with family.
We spent the next five years in Scarborough,
and although we had wonderful friends we
found we were unable to settle. We returned
to Canada where I taught for two years then
undertook post-graduate studies at the University of Alberta.
I decided to enter private business and although I had vowed never to become involved in the catering business I took ownership of Mr. George’s Submarine, a fast food
business in Red Deer. We became well known
for subs and periodic jazz sessions.
(Editor: See Vol. 39 page 62)
Two years ago the business was sold and I
returned to teaching university entrance biology in a private school. Presently I am enjoying work as a rehabilitation practitioner for
Catholic Social Services. I still play at the local
jazz club, The Vat, and enjoy restoring Austin
Healey 3000 sports cars. My wife still teaches
part time . Our son Robert works as a telecommunications technician. Our daughter
Claire is a teacher.
I would like to thank David Fowler and all
involved in producing Summer Times, as I
know that this has brought such a lot of happiness to Old Scarborians around the world.
(Editor: Derek phoned when he arrived in
Scarborough and we arranged to meet – only
48 years since the last time. “I’m in a rush.
I’ll only be with you half an hour”, he said.
At least two hours later we were still reminiscing but had to break off as Derek’s
brother-in-law was waiting to collect him.
One name which cropped up was that of
Chris Yates who was last heard of in Gateshead in the late 1970’s. Does anyone know
where Chris is?
Derek then passed me a Christmas Card he
had received from a (non OSA) friend.
I quote from the card: “I attended a reunion.
We were sitting on a table with a senior Silk
and it emerged that he was brought up in
Scarborough, so you can obviously envisage
the ensuing conversation. “Did you ever
come across this bloke from Manor Road...” I
said, “who played drums?”
“Did his Mum let him run a Jazz Club in the
cellar?” he said.
It turned out he knew you well. A small
world! Steve Williamson wishes to be remembered to you. He spoke very favourably
of you – and the Jazz club.”)
31
GERALD HINCHLIFFE
REMEMBERS
SECONDS OUT
I first met Bill Nicholson – of Tottenham Hotspur, England and Scarborough Boys High
School fame – in 1943. I was stationed in an
infantry-training unit where Bill was a physical training instructor. He was a hard taskmaster. One day he decided to hold a Unit boxing
competition, and on the basis of “you, you and
you” I was detailed to take part. I had done a
little boxing at school, but it was largely of the
hit and miss variety and I was not really a
competent boxer.
The day of the competition duly arrived. The
whole unit sat around waiting to witness the
slaughter of the lambs. My contest was late on
the bill and, whilst waiting, was able to discover my opponent. His name was Lawrence
Biss. We chatted and agreed that we would
put up a good show, but not hurt each other.
A little shadow boxing, a few feigned left jabs,
mixed with the occasional clinch would suffice. In due course the bell rang, the seconds
departed and away we went. We pussy-footed
through the first round and retired to our corners unmarked and without having broken
into a sweat.
I was relaxing in my corner when Bill Nicholson appeared at my elbow, obviously none too
pleased by our efforts. In icy, menacing tones
he informed me that if I did not start fighting
in the second round he would have me on a
“fizzer”. My feet would not touch the ground
and he would ensure that I was on “jankers”
for all eternity. He then walked across the ring
and delivered the same ultimatum to my opponent. It had its effect.
As the bell rang we bounded from our
corners and began to belt all hell out of each
BACK L to R: Gerald Hinchliffe; Hurrell; Flinton ; Williamson; Chapman; Sedman;
CENTRE L to R: Unknown ; Roche; Leng; Pitts; Reeve;
FRONT: Mann (Colin? John Mann says certainly not him!) ; Horrobin. (Editor: Can anybody name the unknown?
32
other. The adrenalin flowed. There was no finesse, no feinting, nothing at all fancy. With the
crowd roaring and baying for blood we went
into non-stop battle. Soon enough, blood there
was, almost exclusively mine, although Lawrence was sporting the beginning of a black eye.
He was declared the winner. Afterwards, Lawrence and I became firm friends but within a
year he lost his last fight and was killed in action in France.
Many years later Bill Nicholson visited the
High School, (he was a friend of Brad’s) and
along with others I was introduced to him.
There was not a flicker of recognition. Why
should there have been? Along with Hov and
Stod we talked reverentially about Bill’s illustrious career in football. He still had the same
smouldering, saturnine look which I recalled
from years earlier. It was no wonder that he
became such a successful football manager.
In a strange, paradoxical way after my illstarred bout with Lawrence I became interested
in boxing. Hov, shortly after my arrival at the
High School, asked me if I would like to help
him with the boxing club. I agreed. We met
each week after school in that small gym downstairs with about twenty boys. I believe that we
all enjoyed those evenings. Hov and I were
aware of certain basic techniques, (indeed we
both eventually qualified as boxing judges) and
it was pleasing that so many boys developed
skills way beyond whatever we had taught
them. I suppose that we justified the activity as
being character building. Certainly, being in the
ring with an opponent is a severe form of selfexamination, and that, at least, is a factor in selfdevelopment. Mainly, though, it was an enjoyable activity, which fostered camaraderie.
We held fixtures with other schools and, invariably, we won. There were some notable
stars like Malcolm Dunwell who reached the
finals of the National schools boxing tournament in London. There was “Alfie” Leng who
sniffed as he boxed, but combined bravery and
determination with great technical skill. I recall
another boy who was technically brilliant but
rarely won his bout, because, as he put it, he
did not like to hurt people. “Alfie” Leng went
out to Australia where he became professor of
Animal Husbandry at the University of Newcastle, New South Wales. He beat the Australians at their own game, becoming an international authority on sheep. There were few Aussies who could counter his left jab.
The highlight of the boxing year was the interhouse boxing tournament for the Le Peton trophy. (Who, I wonder, was Le Peton?) A boxing
ring was acquired from Burniston Barracks,
some soldiers came along to erect it in the Hall,
and the whole school foregathered around it. In
some ways this foreshadowed the days of Theatre in the Round that were to follow. Joey Marsden always had mixed feelings about it all.
Scarcely anything of his fingernails would be
left by the end of the afternoon. Pride in what
was taking place was subordinate to his fears of
what might happen. At the end of it all, as he
presented the trophy to the winning team, he
would beam, and then retire to his room with a
sigh of relief.
The finals produced many memorable contests
but annually the one to savour and admire was
the one between Stephen Williamson and John
Pitts. Two able (in every sense) and courageous
boys, they were well matched. John, who was a
southpaw, created many problems for Stephen
who had an orthodox, upright stance. The outcome scarcely seemed to matter; it was their
display, which remained in the memory.
Stephen later became a distinguished criminal
lawyer, John a lecturer in music. I had the
pleasure of meeting them both again many
years afterwards.
At the end of the afternoon the soldiers moved
in, the ring was dismantled and returned to
Burniston. The tumult of the day succumbed to
that end of school silence which Harry Johnson,
the caretaker, once told me often made him feel
rather sad.
Finalities do have that effect, but without wallowing in nostalgia, we can now look back with
a great deal of pleasure on our days at the High
School. They remain very much a part of us.
GEORGE W (BILL) KENDALL
REMEMBERS (1947-1955)
SCHOOL
Generally late so always ran or cycled to
school from Trafalgar Square on the North
Side. Entering by the playground door, hopefully unnoticed. Morning assembly was more
enjoyable as one got older with ‘Biff Smith
knew my father’ a popular choice and rhubarb
proved fruitful at times. I did read the lesson
one morning from the dais.
Forays to the beach were popular towards the
end of the summer terms.
TEACHERS
Bon Clarke Most boys seem to mention him
and I am no different. He gave us French tests
marked one to four. The mark one got had to
be announced out loud when called and woe
betides me if I only got 2, as we had to give the
mark in French, and my “deux Monsieur’ was
never acceptable. On one occasion a trip to
Joey Marsden who was all knowing, and occasionally an enforced visit after school to that
well-known chess club.
I had the same problem when trying to pronounce the Arabic for “land of a million martyrs’ for my Arabic teacher whilst in Kuwait.
His reaction though was always to laugh at
my serious attempt.
The human side. I shall always remember the
occasion when Bon’s wife was leaving by train
one day and the whole class was asked to lean
out of the windows and wave handkerchiefs
at a certain time so that his wife would know
that we wished her well. Later in the 6th form I
was part of a group that did a years translation of German, in one of the rooms in the area
at the end of the school. Here I believe we got
to know each other a lot better and the translation was useful in later life. I found it a lot
easier to say two beers in German whilst on
National Service.
GA Costain conducted our weekly music
33
class, which consisted of singing songs for the
whole period. I did impart a little comic
(serious?) relief by persuading Alf/Ron Leng
to stand with me as we sang “The Red Flag”.
Costain gave a surprised half smile but did not
comment.
Here I have a complaint. In retrospect I think
the period was wasted, as we could have been
involved in some other aspects of music.
Neale Marshall’s invitation to listen to music
especially “Carmen” started my interest in
music.
ED Colenutt gave me a ticket to hear a recital,
which I can still remember and after which I
thanked him.
AJ Perry was the woodwork master with
whom I made two stools, one with a raffia seat
and the second, a very beautiful(!) piece - all of
wood
GR Hovington and G Hinchliffe our English
teachers, seemed to keep us busy most of the
time. ”Ode to a Nightingale” and “Ode to a
Grecian Urn” are still remembered.
CH Bradley and R Giblet for their height.
WC Potts Everybody else’s stories about him
are true.
C Isherwood, our class went to his funeral, or
memorial service.
DJ Price did I dissect frogs for him?
N Stoddard and RJ Roxburgh both in sports
in which I was involved.
Maths Teacher Now I can’t remember who
that was, possibly because I had my head
down working hard! It must have been worthwhile, as we retirees now seem to spend all of
their time trying to make money on the share
market.
HW Marsden My mother thanks him and I
thank him, for talking my mother and I out of
being a Marine Engineer. I ended up at Leeds
doing Mining Engineering and eventually
went into Exploration Geophysics.
34
CAMPS
Robin Hoods’ Bay where we got rained out.
Wensleydale going for long walks.
Cairngorms, the best of all, walking through
the heather and the mists, through valleys
and along tops of mountains.
SPORTS
Cross Country Always seemed to have fun,
never remember if anybody won or whether
we were actually supposed to race on cold
and wet Oliver’s Mount.
Shinty A couple of games of Shinty with a
primitive type of hockey stick.
Cricket I did get 5 wickets for 4 runs or
similar in a house match. Never really got
into cricket at school although I keenly follow it now with the mighty Aussies. On the
6th April 1986 I played in a charity match
with the likes of Jeff Thompson, Ashley Mallett, Doug Walters, Frank Tyson, Max
Walker, Greg Chappell, Rod Marsh, Dennis
Lillee and David Hookes to name a few, on
the Adelaide Oval, South Australia. Names
to conjure with. I was hit for a number of
sixes.
Tennis Was always envious of Hargraves
and Hodgkinson who were able to leave the
school grounds and play tennis.
Athletics I think we had a few meetings but
apparently I didn’t shine, as I don’t remember them.
Basketball Used to enjoy the few games we
played in the gym. A pity we couldn’t have
played more. Played for the company team
in Adelaide but was interrupted by a wellflighted ball breaking my little finger.
Boxing As a result of a fight in the top playground I was ‘volunteered’ to join the Boxing Club where Ron Leng was in his element. After a bit of practice I was
‘volunteered’ to fight Henry (Ding Dong)
Bell in the school hall. Henry is in the Rugby
Team photos, a muscular nuggetty type
with muscles of steel. The boxing session
was highlighted by, and I distinctly remember, those whirling dervishes Leonard Norton-Wayne and John Moorhouse as noted in
their ‘Times’ report. It may have been on the
same bill where Henry and I sparred around
for a while pretending to be boxers when
suddenly Henry and I swung and hit each
other at the same time. I think Henry hit me
harder than I hit him but even so the rest of
the fight was at arms length.
Gymnastics Was never keen because as
soon as I was upside down that was unknown territory.
Rugby Best left ‘til last. Played throughout
my time at the school as George/Barrie Jubbs
entries in the photo fashion stakes show.
Barrie Jubbs and I used to compete for positions in the scrum. I remember one day
when Jock had Barrie and I run the length,
or half, of the rugby field and picked me for
some reason, I think to play Sevens. The
away games were always a worry to me as I
was a poor bus traveller. Games at Oliver’s
Mount, school or inter school, were occasionally a problem as I would have to leave
my greengrocery delivery run, in reasonable
weather, to cycle to the Mount only to find
an enveloping mist and I was the only one
there, the game had been cancelled. Still
don’t know how the others got to know.
ARTS
Note, not too much emphasis on the Arts
although enjoyed the school plays. Did a bit
of painting. Costain’s singing classes.
Extra activities. The school, it seemed like
the whole school, had a mock election. There
must have been a General Election due. I
was somehow elected as the Labour candidate. At the time there was a major national
strike or situation, which nobody could
solve. Of course eventually at each meeting
some smart Alec would ask me what I
would do to remedy the situation. I would
bluster through trying to get onto another
subject. Nowadays the answer for every-
35
thing, would be, that we would have a Royal
Commission. I remember doing a lot of arm
waving and all had a good time. I don’t know
if we voted. My politics now are more Liberal
as Unions largely control the Labour Party in
Australia and they always seem to overspend,
putting the country into debt.
Also during the time at school there was going to be a heavyweight world championship
boxing match. Well, I ran a book on it giving
the boys the option to pick the round in which
there would be a K.O. - winner takes all. We
all knew it was going to be a knockout decision, so never thought of giving the option for
going the distance. Yes you’ve guessed it; it
went the whole distance and yours truly, by
default, won.
Celebrating with Ron Leng at the end of the
school year. Memories only for Ron (now an
Emeritus Professor and eminent Australian,
holder of the Australia Medal award) and I.
Bill Potts responded:
One note on our friend Marshallʹs name -itʹs Kneale (or, in full, Kneale Thomas). His
mother was a fan of Kneale Kelly, whose
orchestra played at the Spa, so she named
him after the great man. Although there are
many people with Kneale as a surname, Iʹve
never heard of anyone else with that spelling for the first name.
I had a call from Kneale a few years ago. He
was on the faculty at the Naval Postgraduate
School in Monterey (and is now almost certainly retired). As that was only a 45-minute
drive for me (from San Jose), I drove down
one Sunday and had brunch with him and
his wife at the Monterey Hyatt Hotel. He has
a house with a gorgeous view of Monterey
Bay.
FLOTSAM AND JETSAM
rooms on the upper floor at around 7 am each
day.
Twice he was walking along the corridor towards a particular room when, ten or twelve
paces in front of him, he saw a figure reaching
forward as though to open the door – and
then disappear.
The happenings were a few months apart,
and after the second of these nothing more
untoward occurred.
On both occasions the corridor was well lit
and the reader is very clear about what he
saw – a figure in a gown and mortar-board
who was tall enough to have to reach down
for the door handle. The room concerned was
used as a chemistry lab.
In the author’s days at the school in the 1940’s
there were certainly no tales within the school
of any such strange happenings – they would
have gone around the 500 or so pupils like
wildfire, but one thing does puzzle me about
the description of the figure.
Although masters almost always wore academic gowns, mortar-boards were worn, if at
all, on only one day in the school year, on
speech day, and that was not normally held
on the school premises.
The question is, has anyone else had, or heard
of, such ghostly experiences, and, if so, perhaps they would like to share these in future
pages.
From the Scarborough Evening News
A dance for teenage pupils of Scarborough
Girls’ and Boys’ High Schools, the Convent
Girls’ Grammar School and Scarborough College was halted by teachers because of trouble – caused, according to one report, by gatecrashers.
From a Scarborough Evening News article
by Mick Jefferson
Police, called to the Girls’ High School, off
Stepney Road, broke up a crowd of youths
and girls outside, demanding their money
back.
A reader who told me of some odd happenings at the Westwood school had the job, a
few years ago, of opening up the lecture
(Editor: Was any member at this event?
Come on; be honest! What do you remember
36
of it?)
From the Fiji Times, 14th January, 2002
An overweight passenger caused heavy delays on a busy British Rail network after he
became stuck underneath a table.
An Arriva spokesman said that the man, who
was travelling from Scarborough to Manchester Airport was thought to have dosed off
and slipped from his seat underneath the
table.
When he awoke at Manchester Airport he
realised that he was stuck beneath the bolted
down table and had to ask for help from train
staff.
Train workers tried to free the stricken passenger but eventually called in the Fire Service who took 45 minutes to remove the table
and free the man.
THE WORLD'S EASIEST
QUIZ
To pass requires 4 correct answers AND no
cheating! (Remember Bon’s tests?)
1) How long did the Hundred Years War last?
2) Which country makes Panama hats?
3) From which animal do we get catgut?
4) In which month do Russians celebrate the
October Revolution?
5) What is a camelʹs hair brush made of?
6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are
named after what animal?
7) What was King George VIʹs first name?
8) What colour is a purple finch?
9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from?
(Associate Editor: Obviously over indulged
at the Old Scarborians’ Dinner. Included for
the source, rather than the content!)
The answers are on page 59
GRAHAM SCHOOL APPEAL
December/January 2002/03
OSA Member Chris Coole (1955-62) writes
May I pass on information from the current
Graham School.?
The school is preparing a bid to become a
Science Specialist School and we need to raise
£50,000 from the school ʹcommunityʹ before
our bid can go forward.
If anyone would like more information about
our bid or would like to make a financial
pledge to support us, (no money is required
at this point), please e-mail your request or
pledge to:
[email protected]
Thank you in anticipation of your support.
(Editor: Chris Coole is Chairman of Governors of Graham School as well as an OSA
member)
PETER ROBSON VISITS
AUSTRALIA
Having spent a fair proportion of my working
life on aeroplanes, when
I retired in 1997 I vowed
to avoid as far as possible flying again. The
offer of tickets for the
Boxing day Test Match
in Melbourne was, however, decisive in making me break my promise.
Further, the advantage of being retired allowed my wife, Muriel and myself to make a
leisurely visit to parts of Australia that we
had not visited before . We had a great holiday even if the cricket was disappointing.
While I was there, I had a long phone conversation with Paddy Ireland (1944-52) who lives
outside Canberra and keeps himself busy
with language teaching and translation. We
may see him in Scarborough, when he attends
his College (Gonville and Caius, Cambridge)
37
year reunion in 2004.
Muriel and I were entertained to dinner by
Ken Beadle (1946-54) and his wife at their
home in Beaumaris in the outskirts of Melbourne on Christmas Eve. Ken is involved
in civic duties as well as being involved in
the Australian Institute of Chemical Engineers. He comes back to Scarborough regularly as both his parents are still alive and
in their nineties.
Ken gave me details he had found on the
internet of Professor Alfie (or Ronnie to
some) Leng (1947-55) who lives in Queensland and lectures and consults in Animal
Husbandry in Australia and abroad. He is
said to know more about sheep than most
people in the world. I later called Alfie who
didn’t remember me at all but followed up
with a email to Ebberston apologising after
he’d consulted his Rugby photos. He gave
me the details of another Rugby player,
George (Bill to some) Kendall (1947-55)
who graduated in Mining Engineering at
Leeds and is now retired in Queensland.
George has subsequently joined the OSA
and sent details of the OSA to David Pulsford who lives in Sydney.
During our visit to Perth, I hoped to talk to
Richard Stear but unfortunately he moved
house recently and I couldn’t get his new
phone number out of the system.
CHEWING THE FAT
An e-mail exchange between Roger Beaumont and Ted Lancaster (1949-54)
RB: Hi Ted
Following my undistinguished period at
school, I worked initially for a firm of
building contractors in Scarborough and
signed on at night school to re-sit the subjects I failed first time around. I managed to
pass three more subjects to add to the three
I left school with.
TL: And I always thought you were a
brainbox at school. Now it seems you were
no brighter than I was. I too managed no
more than a miserable three ʺOʺs. It wasnʹt
until I was in the Royal Navy and had to
knuckle down that I discovered I had the
semblance of a brain after all.
My parents retired to Bournemouth in the
spring of 1955 so I left my poorly paid job
with the builders and went to work for
Jaconelliʹs who agreed to pay me enough to
live on while I completed my night classes.
I always considered the Jaconelli family as
good friends, especially Peter, Alfie,
Gemma and Gina. They were always there
for me whenever I needed help while growing up and for many years after, as they
were for many of our generation.
While working at the builders I was introduced to the profession of quantity surveying which I found interesting so I decided
to make that my career.
While working on the local talent after
leaving the Royal Navy, one of whom was
a student teacher, I thought ʺI can do that.
All I need is twice as many ʺOʺ‘s as I have
now and a couple of ʺAʺ‘s. ʹShouldnʹt take
long.ʺ - and decided to make that my career.
I moved to Bournemouth in September
1955 to join my parents. Brother David had
moved to Bournemouth the previous year
but had not returned to live with parents. I
was lucky and quickly got a job with a local
builder as a trainee quantity surveyor and
signed on for more night school doing ONC
and HNC building studies. That lasted for
five years.
Realising that the teaching profession may
not be absolutely clamouring to get me on
board and just on the off chance that I
might never make it I considered alternative career options. Iʹd discovered I had a
flair for the sciences and so applied to ICI
Wilton, Nylon Laboratories as an analytical laboratory assistant. While working
38
there I topped up my qualifications at
Longlands College in Middlesbrough, actually
gaining a scholarship to do A-level maths and
physics. Joey and Bill Potts would have been
proud. From there to the City of Birmingham
College of Education and Teacher Training. I
managed to scrape through on a little work
effort while mainly concentrating on the rock
music band that we were forming. After college I taught in Birmingham schools for a
short time then went fully pro in pursuit of
the elusive ʹbig timeʹ. We had the same recording manager and sound engineer as Manfred Mann. Unfortunately none of our efforts
ever made it. However we did have the privilege of working alongside some big name entertainers as their supporting band including
Ben E King, Dusty Springfield, Tom Jones,
Lulu, The Barron Knights, The Move, The
Bonzo Dog Doodah Band, The Everly Bros,
Chuck Berry, The Tremeloes and The Pedlars
whom I think were Luluʹs old band, The Lovers.
After this faded I ran a pub in Smethwick,
made enough to start a business, childrenʹs
boutique, got so badly ripped off in a scam by
the vendor that I was on the verge of bankruptcy, went back into showbiz to pay off my
creditors, formed the rock and roll duo, Mark
Arran and Stevie Lee, fabulous girl drummer
(actually the wife,- game girl), got to the finals in the Mitchells and Butlers Talent Extravaganza at the Wolves Molyneux Ground
Social Club. Solvent again, went into special
education, read for the degree of Bachelor of
Philosophy in the Psychology of Childhood
Emotional and Behavioural Disorder at Birmingham University. Took a further qualification in clinical hypnosis and psychotherapy, opened and ran the Dudley Hypnotherapy Centre from 1984 till 1998.
My next job was on the original part of the M1
motorway as a Quantity Surveyor that lasted
about a year.
Two or three times a year we travel up from
Worcestershire to visit friends and family all
over the North East. From now on we will
have a new respect for the M1.
I returned to Bournemouth and have spent
most of the rest of my life here, working for
various firms of builders and professional
quantity surveying firms. My only other period away was in 1984/85 when I went to
work in Bermuda as QS for a firm of builders.
I got that job through a Bermudan friend who
I met when he was in the UK studying to be a
building surveyor. Good fortune enabled me
to retire in November 1999.
The Bermudan episode sounds great. I truly
envy your experience. Never knew why but
Iʹve always had a fascination with Bermuda
and the ʹtriangleʹ, (or is it a ʹrectangleʹ now?)
but never went there. It may stem from my
deep interest in the paranormal on which I
have conducted a fair degree of ʺamateur
sleuthʺ investigative work.
My first marriage took place in 1962 and
lasted until 1986 when we separated, we were
divorced in 1988. We had two children, one of
each. My daughter is now forty and is married with two children, both boys. My son is
nearly thirty eight and is not married but has
a partner (female), no children. I re-married in
1991. My wife has two daughters, one married
and one divorced, both with two children
(each have a boy and a girl).
Pat and I met at night-school in Middlesbrough in the biology class. We married two
years later and are still going strong, two
boys, two girls, seven grand-kinder.
That more or less concludes the story of my
life so far and Iʹll leave you to assess the answer to the second question in your email.
(ie. What have you been up to for the last 50
years, owt or nowt?)
My brother, Dave, was a chef and spent the
whole of his working life in the Bournemouth
area. He was head chef in various hotels and
had his own business for a time. He has also
retired and has recently bought a property in
39
France where he and his wife plan to live
most of the time. They are there at the moment. I have not been there yet but will
probably be going there early next month to
help them move some of their belongings.
I remember Dave well. I wish him luck.
Are you in touch with any of our other class
mates?
Since joining the ʹOld Scabsʹ, I have been in
touch with a handful of old boys, Stan Halliday, Pete Hough, John Mann, David
Fowler, Bill Potts (the physics masterʹs son.)
You should have a look at the web site on
http://www.oldscarborians.org.uk
It is fascinating. Give it a try.
Do you now live in Scarborough?
We are living in Stourport on Severn in the
valley about a mile from the river on the
edge of the Nature Reserve. Itʹs a beautiful
place and I doubt we will move again even
though we did hanker to be back in Yorkshire.
Are you still working or are you retired?
Since my retirement from teaching in 1987 it
appears that Sandwell Education are finding
it difficult to cope without me and I have
gone back into special ed. on a part time
basis working with excluded difficult behaviour varmints. Remind you of anyone?
I am hoping to visit Scarborough sometime
this year and would love to meet up with
you. Let me know if that could be a possibility.
Our next visit will be around half term or
possibly Easter, weather dictating. I will let
you know when our plans are more set.
I had always remembered that you were
going to join the navy, with the intention of
being an artificer, when you left school and
had often wondered where you finished up.
That was, of course, before I saw your notes
on friends re-united.
It was Joeyʹs idea that I join the Royal Navy
as an engineer (artificer). I had always
wanted to join the Mercantile as a Navigator. I was absolutely, totally useless at the
practical aspects of engineering, failing almost every practical test. I was of average
ability but was horrendously slow. Each
hourʹs overtime on a test job examination
cost a mark and a half deduction. As I was
usually ten to fifteen hours adrift, the fifty
to sixty percent result I attained was
knocked down to a failing mark. I was given
several second chances to catch up but was
eventually consigned to the Royal Naval
Volunteer Reserve, to be served in civvy
street except in the case of a national emergency when I would be required to go and
save the nation. However by this time I had
learned that I was not quite the mental dullard I had presented at school. I became quite
a high flier academically in maths, applied
maths, engineering theory, sciences and English. Also represented the navy college at
gymnastics. I was particularly fortunate in
securing the extra curricular activity of
shipʹs ʺsound reproduction equipment operatorʺ The SRE-Op was the forerunner of what
we would term ʺdisc jockeyʺ.
Now, having received your email, I have to
say, I am impressed! What a varied and interesting life you have had so far. Your history makes mine seem positively mundane
and boring.
I think itʹs always a case of ʺThe other
manʹs grass.ʺ I am most envious of your
achievements of a more lasting and useful
nature and of the time you have spent living
and working in Bermuda.
I was very surprised that you even contemplated, let alone pursued, a career in teaching. Memories of our treatment of some of
our teachers, particularly of ʹMaulerʹ Manfield (French), would have put me off that
idea completely.
Funny you should say that. Have a look at
40
the Old Scarborians website on the notice
board section. Thereʹs quite a few comments
about ʺMaulerʺ, aka ʺMickeyʺ, following a
query I popped in a few months ago.
Also I had no idea that you had musical talents! Did Mr Costain (the school music
teacher, if I recall correctly) know ?
I think Arthur followed the same format as
most of the staff. Forget individual leanings.
Treat ʹem all the same. I had done a lot of
stage drama work in junior school and was
the teacherʹs pet in all acting productions.
None of this surfaced at SBHS under Sam
Rockinghorse. Not until College did I become
involved in acting, stage management, directing, producing, eventually finishing up at the
Birmingham Repertory Theatre in 1983 for the
Citizensʹ Theatre Group in a two hander
called ʺAlas Poor Fredʺ.
The list of people you worked with is very
impressive and you must have some great
memories and stories to tell. What was the
name of your band ?
We started off at City of Birmingham College
of Education just for a laugh playing rubbish
at the college hops. Free entry was offered to
the student who came up with a catchy name
and for years we were ʺThe Vacant Lot Beat
Bandʺ. As the group became more adept we
accepted a residency at ʹThe Rum Runnerʹ
nightclub in Broad Street Birmingham, the
same venue from which Duran Duran sprang
about a decade later. Here we became ʺThe
Rum Runner Katzʺ or just ʺKatzʺ. Tentative
early records were made under this name including EP ʺKatz Live at the Rum Runnerʺ.
Did you ever appear on TV?
We passed the audition for the Hughie Green
Show but for some unknown reason it was
axed.
or were any of your your bands records ever
played on the radio?
Some air time was given on Radio One but
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41
mainly the group were known on the hospital
radio circuits. Sales were always disappointing.
Do you still have any of your records?
Records were made under the name of Cinnamon Quill and are still available as special
collections on the Morgan Label. By the time
the name was Cinnamon Quill, I had left. My
records have gradually been ʺborrowedʺ over
the years without trace except for reel to reel
tapings.
Your attainment of a B.Phil is also impressive!
I never even took the professional quantity
surveying qualifications. It never seemed
necessary as I never had to look for work.
Once I got started in Bournemouth I was always able to move from job to job through
personal contact or recommendation. The
only job I actually had to apply for was to
work for John Laing Construction on the M1.
I had since I was very tiny had an interest in
hypnosis when I first read up about Freudʹs
attempts to use it followed by my mum taking me to a stage hypnotism show at an old
church on Longwestgate about 1948.
The B.Phil was an educational psychology
based degree without the rigors of an Ed
Psych proper. Not only did this open up possibilities of school based advancement but it
offered the chance to follow up with a further
qualification in clinical hypnosis and psychotherapy. I opened the Dudley Hypnotherapy Centre in 1984 working from time to time
in Midland hospitals and even having a surgery in the Helios Health and Leisure Centre
which was the site of the Health Club in the
old TV series of ʺCrossroadsʺ.
Iʹm surprised you ever imagined that I was a
brain box! I did start off doing very well for
the first couple of years but went down hill
rapidly after that due to being absent through
illness and injury quite frequently. I can not
accurately remember when the various events
occurred but the first was because I had to
have an operation to remove my appendix. A
few months after that I managed to fracture
my skull by riding, head first, into the back of
a lorry whilst cycling back to school after the
lunch break.
Perhaps it was your early academic efforts
that I remember. I do vaguely recall your
encounter with the lorry and your scarred
and shaven head in the aftermath. Iʹm impressed by your overcoming the set backs of
such a difficult period. My failure to strive
and thrive at school was simply a case of
chip on shoulder bad attitude.
I then had meningitis on two occasions, a few
months apart, and following tests and x-rays
it was discovered that when my scull was
fractured a membrane in my scull was punctured which was causing the meningitis. The
cure for my problems was not available at
Scarborough Hospital so I was sent to a hospital in Newcastle-on-Tyne. The first operation they performed was unsuccessful and I
was re-admitted for a second attempt. Fortunately that was a success ! I think that all the
forgoing occurred during the second and
third years. Immediately after the final operation I had to go to Scarborough Hospital for
treatment three times a week, first thing in
the morning. As I was late for school on these
occasions my mother always provided me
with a note which I dutifully handed in to
Joey Marsden. After receiving a substantial
number of notes he told me not to bother
bringing any more! As my number of visits to
the hospital decreased I had, and used, the
opportunity to stay away from school for the
first period many times when there was
something I wanted to avoid. I had missed so
much school time that it was impossible to
catch up in some subjects and Joey gave me
the opportunity to opt out of some subjects to
enable me to try to catch up in others. I gave
up chemistry and physics and biology to concentrate on geography and history. I was allowed to study in the hall on my own.
Enough of my school life.
My self imposed experience was similar yet
42
opposite to yours. I sidestepped history and
geography to concentrate alone in the hall on
Physics, Chemistry and Biology, the subjects
where I had at least a miserable chance of success, eventually caught, interrogated and sentenced to eternal damnation by Biff Smith.
In reply to your second email, I would have no
objection to you using my email for the purpose suggested, if you think any one would be
interested in reading it. When would you want
to submit it?
David has asked me to slip in a few lines by
the end of January, I shall try for that deadline.
It just seemed on the spur of the moment that a
series of email correspondences between two
old mates of fifty years ago would be a novel
way of sharing a bit of ʺchewing the fatʺ.
Herbert Dennis had it published in the Scarborough Mercury in January 1975. It created a
tremendous amount of interest – letters came
from all over the world – including one from
Harold Denton in Pietersburg. He is an accountant who served his time with Robinson,
Coulson and Kirkby in the 1920’s. Another
letter was from Sep Brown in the Isle of Man –
now retired from being Surveyor with Stourport RDC – and lots more”.
A second inscription in different writing is as
follows:“ July 18th 1985. Mrs Tom Laughton, widow of
the late Herbert Dennis, kindly gave the photograph to William Leslie Swinney, as he had
shown interest in the photo, as guest at dinner
during Herbert’s lifetime”.
Bon voyage. Have a good ʹun.
Bill Swinney, who supplied many of us with
our school uniform from his shop in Aberdeen
Walk, died a year ago and it seems reasonable
to assume that the photo somehow survived
the clearance of the contents of his home.
(Editor: Roger, why not become a member?
Life membership is still only £10)
It is a marvellous object in pristine condition
and an important addition to our archive.
SCHOOL PHOTO 1925
CONNECTIONS
We have just decided that we want some winter sun and warmth so we are going to Lanzerote on Thursday for a week.
by Peter Robson (1945-53)
Peter Emms (1951-56) is a partner at Goodall’s
Estate Agents in Scarborough. While surveying
an empty house which he had been commissioned to sell, he found a framed photograph
of the staff and pupils of the SBHS dated June
1925. The first thing he noticed was that his
father was in the front row of the assembled
school. Naturally, he took possession of the
photo and passed it on to the Old Scarborians’
Secretary.
The photo has the following handwritten inscription on the back:-.
“This picture was in the possession of Joe Hopwood for 45 years in Simonstown, South Africa. It was given to Herbert W Dennis when
visiting South Africa in 1974. Joe said it would
give far more pleasure to people in Scarborough, Yorkshire UK.
by Ron Hutchinson (1945-53)
I was delighted in October 2002 to receive a
letter from Peter Robson suggesting I join the
OSA. Apart from being a VL class-mate, Peter
and I had also been members, along with Don
Barnes and Maurice Pennock, of a Table Tennis
team called the “Quads”. Attired in maroon
coloured shirts bearing the logo “QUADS”, we
had played in the Scarborough and District
Table Tennis League.
I suppose that technically I have “rejoined” the
OSA, as I remember being a member while at
university, and on one occasion going to a dinner at the English Speaking Union in London.
After National Service in the RAF in Germany,
and then 4 years at Queen’s College Oxford - a
college at which many Old Boys both before
and after me have studied - I went into teach-
43
ing as a History master. I want to use this
article to mull over OSA connections so won’t
bore you with a lot of career details. Let it
suffice that I got to the top of the greasy pole
and for 17 years was Headmaster of a Comprehensive school - Hanley Castle High
School in Worcestershire. In 1991 I took early
retirement, and have never looked back. I am
happily married, and live in Malvern.
The lucky break in my career came, I must
confess, as a result of “old school tie” connection. My first teaching post had been a pleasant co-educational Grammar School in Derbyshire. After only two years and two terms, an
invitation came from out the blue to apply for
the post of Head of History at the Manor
Grammar/Technical School, Mansfield Woodhouse, Notts. As some of my readers will have
already guessed, the Headmaster was a Mr.
GR Hovington. It seems that Hov had been on
the grapevine to Joey about a suitable candidate from the SBHS Old Boys, and my name
came up. And the Scarborough connection
continued because when I left after six happy
years my successor was Graham Thornton.
The Manor School was a brand-new, state of
the art, building, and Hov was brilliant at
man-management, organisation, and discipline. No doubt he drew in part on his war
service as a Major in the Green Howards. I
saw quite a different Hov from the man who
had taught me A level English. I thrived at the
school, and became a House Master, which
helped me in my next career step to become a
Deputy Head. The Houses were called after
some insignificant medieval locals (Stuffyn,
Wolfhunt, Kirklynton). Although the administrative frame work was up-dated, I could detect a pastoral lineage from Arnold, Kingsley,
Ruskin, and Carlyle at the SBHS.
I note from the Magazine that Mike Rines is
working on Hov’s wartime diary. (Editor: See
next article) Here is an anecdote. Hov and I
had taken a school party to Belgium, I think it
was 1966. It included Hov’s wife, Jean, and
their two small children. Hov and I, for some
reason I cannot remember, were alone on the
quay at Ostend. He recounted to me how during the last days of the war (May 45) his unit
was pushing deeper into Germany and they
were meeting bitter resistance from teenage
members of the Hitler Youth, who were fighting far more fanatically than the average German soldier. Hov said that he and the rest of
the men had a funny feeling about how stupid
it would be to get killed in the last days of the
war by a bunch of schoolboys. Hov also recalled that when one of the youths was captured, he spat defiantly on Hov’s battle dress.
My next contact with the SBHS came in 1974
when I became Headmaster of Hanley Castle
Grammar School in Worcestershire, tasked
with turning it into a Comprehensive. I wrote
full of pride to Joey to let him know that one
more of his pupils had made good. Although
his life was almost at an end, he wrote me
back a kind letter, which I still treasure. I
think that we are all agreed how incredible
Joey’s memory was in its ability to recall generation after generation of Old Boys. For good
measure this letter also included the information that Les Brown had began his teaching
career at Hanley Castle Grammar School in
the 1930’s before moving to the SBHS.
I found Les Brown’s records and they showed
that he had been at Hanley Castle 1933-36,
after which he had moved to Scarborough.
His salary was £250.00 per annum less 10%
(during the Great Depression of the 1930’s the
Armed Forces, Civil Service and Teachers all
had to take a 10% cut). I also found a HMI
Report, which spoke highly of the young
French master - he was full of energy and had
a refreshingly modern approach with plenty
of spoken French.
I took photo copies of the relevant documents
and got in touch with Les. There then began a
most wonderful friendship with him which
lasted until his death. My wife and I visited
Les and Betty several times at Barmoor Manor
where we were always greeted with delicious
home made scones and cakes. On one occa-
44
sion Les paid a nostalgic visit to Hanley Castle.
Although at school my favourite subject was
History, I always had the greatest respect for
Les as a teacher of French, and contact with
him in later life made me realise what a kind
and thoughtful human being he was. If I may
quote from a letter he sent me you will see
what I mean:
“I thank you both for your kind letter and for the
most interesting enclosures about the school
(Hanley Castle), for the HMI’s Report of 1936, and
the photostat. I can hardly say how deeply grateful I
am to you for at last giving me an opportunity to
see what I should have been allowed to see fifty
years ago. When I arrived, I was merely told to get
on with it and to create my own discipline. For
three years I used to sit down almost every evening
and think back to my own school days and say:
‘How should I have liked this to be taught to me?’
In the First Form it needed simplicity, humour, and
as much connection with their day to day life as
possible, and as much spoken French and simple
accompanying actions as possible. It would have
been most helpful to know in detail what the HMI’s
thought of my efforts. However, I now know, and
the knowledge of it gives me a deep sense of satisfaction.”
“The French Connection” now takes me to the
present day. Reading the Centenary Edition of
the Magazine, I saw the article by John Hall,
writing from Notre Dame de Cenilly, France.
Two years ago, my wife and I bought a holiday
home, or maison secondaire, at Carentan, a
small town about 30 miles south of Cherbourg.
Fierce fighting took place here just after D Day
involving the American 101st Airborne Division. (You can see one version of the events in
part 3 of Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster “Band
of Brothers”). Anyway, John Hall’s home is
just 20 miles from Carentan. I have been in
touch, and hope to visit him next time we go
over.
My final reflections concern Bon Clarke, for I
too experienced the gentle side of the stern
Gauleiter of Stalag 10. I was one those invited
to 8b Oak Road to play table tennis and borrow books. I remember discovering Sellar and
Yeatman’s “1066 And All That”. Some of its
humour stood me in good stead years later as
a History teacher. I also recall that Bon used to
tease his cat with an imitation mouse called Joe
Lewis made of black insulation tape. Another
thing about Bon Clarke was that he had a
“gammy leg”, and he rode to school on a bicycle on which only one pedal went round. There
was a rumour that he had been wounded in
the First World War, but 1 never heard him
talk about it. Now comes an attempt at a final
connection.
Ever since my school days I have been interested in Military History. In retirement my
wife and I made a pilgrimage along the Western Front in our motor caravan. Starting at
Ypres, we moved southwards to Vimy Ridge,
the Somme, Chemin des Dames, and on to
Verdun. I have read many books on this
haunting subject. One I possess is “The Western Front” by Richard Holmes. Before appearing as a book it had been a BBC Television
Series in 1999. Some of you may have seen
Richard Holmes on Television presenting also
the War Walks series. Anyway, in the book
Richard Holmes when recounting the 3rd Battle of Ypres (1917), often called Passchendaele,
writes as follows:
The battle looked different to participants. Lieutenant Firstbrooke Clarke of the North Staffordshires
wrote ‘I suppose to people at home it was a fine
victory. Well, so it is but they don’t see the dead
and wounded lying out and they don’t have 9.2’s
bursting 10 yards away, machine-gun bullets
scraping the parapet. I lost 17 of my platoon (4
killed) besides casualties in the rest of the company.
I was so sick of it that I cried when I got back.’
Can any Old Boy confirm that this was Bon?
The Christian name Firstbrooke is so unusual
that there can surely be no one else? Those of
you who studied German will recall that we
used a book which he had written. It was
called ”German Grammar for Revision and
Reference” by Firstbrooke Clarke. For some
45
arcane reason when talking to us, he called it
“Mudpie”.
horrified that he had risked sending the only
copy this way.
Having made this start, I hope that in the
years to come, many contacts with friends,
both old and new, will develop.
He had crossed out one or two passages, and
gave me his blessing to try to get it published
before his death. However, I have felt justified in restoring almost all of the deletions
now, since I believe that would have been his
wish.
(Editor: I recall hearing that Bon served in
the First World War. I have skipped quickly
through the 7 editions of Summer Times I
have edited but have found nothing definitive. However, Bon’s son attended SBHS
between 1936 and 1941 and is a member of
the OSA, and his name is John Firstbrook
Clark)
HOV’s WAR MEMOIR
A PREAMBLE
by Michael Rines (1941-52)
Hov’s war memoir
probably reveals the
true nature of war. It is
as much about cockups,
improvisation,
luck and sheer drudgery as it is about heroism, bloody sacrifice
and well-planned strategy. It is a riveting
read, but it came to light almost by chance
during a conversation at the last of the annual Mansfield lunches he attended before he
died.
We were talking about the joys of writing,
and he told me about his memoir, written
some time after the War. He said he did not
want it to be published until after his death,
because it might upset some of the people
mentioned in it. He added that he had lent
the only copy to an old friend who was terminally ill with cancer.
I was very concerned that when his friend
died his relations might not realise the value
of the story, so I wrote to Hov pointing this
out. Not long afterwards, I was surprised to
receive the typescript through the post – and
The memoir is very self-effacing, and I suspect Hov played a much more distinguished
role than emerges from it. His refusal of the
offer of the MC is typical.
According to Captain Tony Watkins, one of
his few surviving Green Howard colleagues,
he was well loved in the Regiment. Watkins
was only 19 when he was sent out as a junior
officer to Italy, and he says: ‘I valued Hov for
his friendship, and for the concern and help
he gave me as an older officer for a very
young and inexperienced one, and I am always grateful that he guided me to an appreciation of literature.’
He also tells how, during a tough time in
Italy, Hov ran the Anzio Turf Club, which
was a great morale booster, and in the History of the 5th Division there is a photograph
of him, pipe firmly gripped, presenting the
CQMS with his winnings.
Hov’s daughter Sarah has kindly provided
me with some documents and newspaper
cuttings about her father, which tells us of his
life before SBHS, and I think provides useful
background to his war memoirs.
I had never heard him talk about his earlier
life, and it came as a surprise to me to find
what a brilliant all-rounder he was. We knew
that he had been educated at the Coatham
School in Redcar, but we did not know that
he had been head boy, and had won both a
State Scholarship and a County Bursary,
which took him to Jesus College, Oxford.
We knew that he played a good game of
rugby, and was an elegant batsman, but we
didn’t know his first love and favourite game
46
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was soccer. At Oxford, he was elected a Centaur, the exclusive club for the top soccer
players at the University. For his college, he
was not only captain of both soccer and
cricket teams, but also played hockey and
rugby.
We knew he had some musical ability, because he produced the school’s Gilbert & Sullivan performances. But I, at any rate, did not
know he played the piano, let alone that he
had a song, for which he had written both
words and music, published while he was at
Oxford. And when he left with a good degree
in English, the Principal of Jesus said he had
‘definite literary and dramatic interests’.
His first job was teaching English and Latin at
Ashby-de-la-Zouche Grammar School, and
while there he played rugby, cricket and football for local teams, with some distinction to
judge by reports in the local papers.
‘Grammar School Master’s Big Score For
Ashby Town’ was one headline, when he got
97 not out.
He came to our school in September 1939, but
my first memory of him is seeing him bat for
Scarborough at North Marine Road, and being impressed by his refreshing and cultured
style.
When he taught us in the Sixth Form, some of
us thought at the time that his attitude was a
bit dilettantish. But, looking back, we could
not have been more wrong. In addition to his
teaching, he was deeply involved in the
school’s rugby, cricket and boxing, and he did
the Gilbert and Sullivan in alternate years. At
the same time, he was involved in amateur
dramatics in the town, and continued to play
cricket. For a time, he ran his own Sunday
team, composed mostly of Scarborough CC
players, but sometimes including his old
Green Howards friend, Norman Yardley. He
also played a more bucolic kind of game, for
Gristhorpe, where he lived. But most astonishing of all, he got himself a law degree in his
spare time. Some dilettante!
What we had regarded as an overly casual
47
approach was in fact one of Hov’s great
strengths: he was what would today be called
‘laid back’. When so may other teachers had
nervous breakdowns, nothing disturbed his
equilibrium, and it was one of the things,
which by all accounts, made him a great headmaster when he moved on from Scarborough,
and which must have served him well in the
Green Howards.
He remained proud of his Yorkshire roots, and
his daughter says: ‘He always remembered his
days at the High School with great fondness. I
think it was quite a time for Dad – free, single
and into sports, pints and pipes!’ And he did,
apparently, date a succession of school secretaries.
A lot of us owed him a lot.
A RESPONSE
by Peter Robson (1945-53)
I was never taught by Hov so my experience of
him was through his work as coach of the first
fifteen and as a cricketer against whom I
played occasionally.
I am left with the conclusion that Hov was a
gifted scholar and sportsman who preferred an
amateur approach to everything he did. In
other words he eschewed any professionalism,
either in preparation or in actual performance.
I would have said he was lazy but having read
of his achievements, I am more inclined to say
he was gifted and able to do things instinctively and without great apparent effort. This
gave him a certain detachment and hence the
ability to avoid being too caught up in the crisis. As a consequence he was able to think
more clearly and act in a calm and sensible
way. This gift was the source of his easy authority.
Thus, he was not a great rugby coach. He didn’t hammer the basic skills into people but had
the ability to draw from his players, the maximum contribution that they could give within
the limits of their ability. He was able to extract
a major contribution from several boys who
were on the verge of being problems in the
school. What coaching he did, was done
through his match reports where he was very
analytical and hard but fair in his criticism. His
comments were rarely resented. Thus, his
players, lightly coached, played as he himself
would have played. He would not have fitted
at all into the modern game, with the apoplectic coaches and self indulgent displays of triumph from the players when things go right.
He was not greatly involved in school cricket. I
remember him being responsible for the Under
14 cricket team in the year I played in it but I
believe he wanted to have the time to continue
to play the game himself. He played no role in
the coaching of the first XI though he was a
close follower of what was happening.
I saw him play both Rugby and Cricket and
was not mightily impressed. He ran in short
steps in a very stuttering and unathletic way.
However, I believe he had suffered a major
injury soon after his arrival in Scarborough
playing for the Scarborough first XI. At this
time he was a fast bowler and I think was
bowled repeatedly when he was not fit or was
injured. He once commented to me along these
lines. Incidentally it was the Scarborough
cricketers who gave him his nickname Gerry
which was derived from his initials GR
But though he gave up rugby, he continued to
play cricket for Gristhorpe until he left the
School and the town in 1955. Here I’m sure he
fitted in perfectly well with the country characters who played for Gristhorpe at that time
and whom I knew well, because my Aunt
lived in the village and was one of the characters herself.
In conclusion, Hov had lots of natural ability,
both intellectually and athletically, an easy
authority, great modesty even diffidence and a
dislike of
flamboyance. These were his
strengths and his weakness. Along with many
members of staff at the School he failed to inspire many gifted boys with similar abilities to
believe that they were something other than
bright young men from an educational back-
48
water. He probably believed that like him,
their abilities would be somehow rewarded in
their professional life as they had been in
School life. Some sponsorship from Hov,
some advice and a good shove in the right
direction would have been invaluable for
many boys who had to compete in a world
where the gifted amateur didn’t always rise to
the top of the heap.
We were lucky that he passed through Scarborough on his effortless way to the immortality. At his funeral, though it must have
been 20 years since he retired, the church was
full and people of all ages and generations
were there to pay their last respects. I had the
clear memory of that grin decorated with the
spittle hanging from the pipe.
A fine man; I wish I‘d known him better.
FIVE THOUSAND MILES
The World War II experiences
of an infantry officer
by Major George Reginald
Hovington
(Edited by Michael Rines)
CHAPTER 1 1940
World War II started
on September 3, 1939,
but my call-up was
deferred to September
the following year,
because I was a schoolmaster, at the Scarborough
Boys’
High
School. Then there was
a further delay, because I had attended a school camp at
Bromsgrove in the August, picking raspberries for the war effort. I was quarantined for a
month, because one boy who had been on the
camp died from polio and another was left a
cripple. As a result, I was not called up until
17 October.
I was posted as a private soldier to the York
and Lancaster Regiment at Pontefract, for
basic training. The only memories I have of
this initiation into soldiering were the coarseness and filthy habits of some of our intake,
the endless drill, the bullying by ignorant
NCOs and the soul-destroying daily task of
polishing buttons and boots. After being there
only a few weeks, we were all called out in
the middle of the night to extricate dead bodies, or parts of them, from houses in Sheffield,
which had suffered a heavy blitz from German bombers.
After three months, I was sent to an Officers’
Corps Training Unit (OCTU), which was like
a rest haven after Pontefract. The previous
commander of the unit had been sacked for
intimating to the press that grammar school
boys were incapable of accepting strict discipline and would never make good officers.
The new commander, therefore, took care to
relax the discipline and adopt a much more
personal and pastoral approach. Fillet steak
and chips for breakfast, and rough cider at
four pennies a pint in every pub made us all
put on weight, the more so because drill parades were seldom held, and then not taken
seriously.
When cricket started, I was made captain. We
did not lose a match, and I think this was why
I was appointed head cadet at the end of the
course. I little knew that this meant I would
be in charge of the final parade. Nobody gave
me any instruction for it -– I was just expected
to ‘know the drill.’
Two hundred cadets were marched on to the
parade ground, where I stood on a raised
platform, isolated except for the bristlymoustached RSM, standing behind me with
his cane and breathing into my buttocks.
From the side, the brass hats, including a general, looked on with as much interest as if it
were a heavyweight fight.
Fortunately, the RSM was like a mind reader,
and corrected whatever mistakes I was going
49
to make, before I made them. So any damage
to the dignity of the Army was deflected, and
he had the courtesy to say to me as the parade was dismissed, ‘Not bad! I’ve seen
worse. SIR!’
CHAPTER 2 1941 – 42
NORTHERN IRELAND AND
ENGLAND
After a week’s leave, during which I was
measured for and received my officer’s uniform, I set out with one pip on my shoulder
to join the 1st Battalion, the Green Howards,
which was stationed at Omagh, in Northern
Ireland - train to Stranraer, ferry to Larne,
and a long slow train journey to follow. The
battalion headquarters, where the troops
were quartered, was in a former asylum, but
the officers were billeted in requisitioned
private houses.
I was given a room next to the monocled the
Honourable George Howard, of Castle Howard, whose ancestors had founded the regiment. I found him pleasantly correct, but at
first uncommunicative, probably because he
had two pips to my one. However, I warmed
to him after a drunken party when he invited
me into his room for a nightcap, and I discovered it was lined with Greek and Latin texts.
He told me he read them in the original for
light reading! More later of the Honourable
George, who, sometime after the war, became Chairman of the BBC.
Almost all the officers were regulars and
there was among them an almost professional disdain for us amateurs, who included
Norman Yardley and Hedley Verity, both
international cricketers. Bob Tanner, one of
the company commanders, was an exception.
He came from a line of naval commanders,
but, being colour-blind, had no option but to
make do with the infantry! His life was full of
escapades, self-made.
In Omagh, the night before the hunt met at
the town hall in the middle of the street, he
had put down a trail of aniseed, and the
hounds raced round and round the building,
causing utter confusion. When we were in
Egypt, he went to the Naval Club in Alexandria, sporting on his arm a tag ‘England’,
which he had painted on, because, he said,
‘Everybody I’ve seen has got some other
bloody country’. For his pains, he was put
under close arrest by an admiral!
I met him again in 1952 at King’s Cross Station, and asked whether he was a general yet.
He replied that he had been cashiered. He
had borrowed £100 from the Mess Account at
Stanmore to go to Ascot races, and had won
£800. At the mess dinner that night he had
boasted to the General about it and told how
he’d borrowed the money. He was once
again put under close arrest.
Life in Omagh was full – nowhere to go except the ‘Gentlemen’s Club’, where the only
drink was draught Guinness, so we made
our own fun. Unfortunately, the Colonel
thought the officers needed smartening up
and inflicted on us for a week a Guards’
RSM, who took us for drill on the square. We
got tired of hearing him shout ‘You’re idle,
SIR!’ and, on one drill, we decided we’d all
be deaf. As we marched into the parade
ground, he shouted ‘Left turn!’ We marched
straight on, across the square, over a fence
and into a field, still keeping perfect formation while his hysterical shouts of ‘About
Turn!’ gradually faded.
Of course, we all got a severe ‘rocket’ from
the Colonel, but the RSM disappeared the
next day.
Four days a week, we either did route
marches or took part in company, battalion,
or brigade exercises, which involved 15-20
miles of marching. This was followed by the
digging of slit trenches, in which we spent
the night, fortified by stew and rice pudding
sent up in trucks. During the exercises, we
were perpetually hungry, but we were saved
by the Irish peasants -- if the definition of a
peasant is one who lives in a small cottage
50
with sheep, goats, pigs and cows in the next
or sometimes the same room, eking out a living from two acres of potatoes, some root
vegetables and a strip of corn. They would
come to their doors, on hearing the approach
of the marching columns, and offer tea and
delicious soda bread. I never met one who
was not kind, generous and patriotic - there
were more Union Jacks on display in one village than all the rest of Britain, I should say.
After six months, we suspected we were
about to leave. Officers, surplus to the establishment were being promoted and posted
elsewhere. The Colonel, having played for the
Army at cricket, saw to it that no cricketer was
posted. We had a splendid side, which won
on most Saturdays against Northern Irish
towns.
Then we heard that there was to be a farewell
ball - after which we were bound, via England, for India. The Green Howards was a
battalion in the 5th Division, which was the
imperial reserve, to be sent to support forward troops when necessary. This time we
would be stationed near the east coast of India, in case the Japanese invaded.
The final ball, as formal as any in the Nineteenth Century, was held in the Asylum, and
all the local notabilities and their wives were
invited. Booze was limited, which was because the Honourable George, with his pal
Tremayne, had been sent in plain clothes to
Dublin to buy some gin and whisky. They had
got into a fight, lost the money, and had returned crestfallen. The penalty for George was
promotion to captain in the Indian Army,
while Tremayne was sent to the Glider Pilot
Regiment – he was killed at Arnhem.
The dances were old-fashioned, and each officer had had his dance card marked beforehand by the colonel’s wife, so we all spent a
fruitless evening trying to avoid the toes of fat
matrons. There seemed to be only two females
under the age of 21, but they were horseyfaced and not worth ‘saddling,’ even if their
names were on your card.
It was a relief to go on leave.
CHAPTER 3 1942
THE JOURNEY TO INDIA
After spending a few weeks at Tadworth,
Surrey, we entrained for Southampton docks
and boarded the SS Samaria, an 18,000 ton
liner. Accommodation for the officers was
crowded – six in a cabin meant for two -- but
nothing like the mess decks below the waterline where the men had to live, crowded together like ants.
We dined in mess kit, the first night in port –
five courses and three wines! The troops had
their usual stew and rice pudding plus an
orange. The next day, we set sail with one
destroyer escort to the Clyde, where we
stayed two days – no shore leave – waiting for
the whole convoy to assemble. When we
reached the open sea, the convoy was so
large – liners and cargo ships and even
tramps – that it stretched almost as far as the
eye could see. On the horizon were 12 destroyers, buzzing about like London taxis, and
in the middle of the convoy a battleship and
an aircraft carrier. Later, two cruisers appeared.
About every half an hour, at a given signal
from the flag captain, the whole convoy
veered right or left. Occasionally, there were
angry lamp signals from the flag captain – an
obliging sailor translated them to me – that
either a ship was belching out too much
smoke or it was falling behind.
The greatest culprit was the ‘Clan McDonald’,
of about 2,000 tons, whose captain, finding his
ship always in the rear, had had the boilers
stoked to their maximum so that the smoke
from its funnels was like that from old blast
furnaces. Eventually, after two days, the ship
was so far behind it was not visible. We heard
later that a destroyer had stayed with it for a
day till summoned back to the convoy, after
which it had been sunk by a submarine. We
never saw a submarine or a torpedo, but
every day, we heard sounds of depth charges
51
and saw, on the horizon, fountains of water.
800 burials.
After travelling across the Atlantic, we returned to dock in Freetown for fuel. After a
day, when we were dying to get on dry land,
but were not allowed, we proceeded, less
half the convoy, to Cape Town. The docks
there were thronged with white people, who
almost fought each other to ‘adopt’ a soldier
for the week’s stay.
(Editor: Further chapters will appear in our
next issue)
Norman Yardley, who knew most of the
South African cricketers, and I stayed with
one of these, and the hospitality was overwhelming. We had been allowed to take
with us from England only £5, which was
soon exhausted on the boat, but I had no
difficulty in cashing a cheque for £5 in one of
the banks. Nothing was too good for the
English troops!
I was a member of “the
class of ‘51ʺ from September 1951 only to
August 1956. Three
days after school broke
up, I then ‘left’ and set
off to attend Das
Katharineum zu Lübeck
in Lübeck, West Germany, until 22 December 1956. Established
in the 14th Century, this school was coeducational and was said to be one of the
twelve best schools in Germany. After all of
nine days back in Scarborough, in the 1957
New Year I set off for Paris and Lycée
Lakanal, in the suburb of Sceaux, Seine, for a
term. Lakanal was a boarding school with
local day students and was all male at that
time. (There was an elderly nun who I believe taught religious matters to the first
years but I saw no other women there.) Useful though the experience had been, by the
time I returned to SBHS after Easter I had
missed so much of my weakest subjects, Literature in English, German and French, that
I decided to spend a further year in Modern
6B. Thus, in September 1957, I became an
adopted member of “the class of ‘52ʺ!
We set sail, with some regrets, bound for
India but, to our surprise, a few days later,
we docked at Mombassa, a hot sticky place,
where we were able to take our platoons for
a walk. On it, I spotted a chap in uniform of
the West African Rifles who had been at
OCTU with me. After putting the sergeant in
charge, I accepted his invitation to look
round the village. All the huts were decorated with blown up coloured contraceptives. My pal told me that Army Command,
worried by the high incidence of VD among
the coloured troops, had issued each of them
with six, little knowing what they would be
used for.
Two weeks later, we docked at Bombay, but
not without interest and incident on the way.
The sea was so blue that it resembled the
colour of a bad artist, and the phosphorescence was as breathtaking as the flying fish.
The atmosphere was soft, warm and so soporific we spent all day on the deck. The only
things that disturbed us were the constant
burials at sea from other liners in the convoy.
We learned later that some of the convoy
had been diverted to Madagascar, which
was taken with minimum casualties. However, many had caught malaria; hence nearly
CASEY’S CONTINENTAL
CAPERS (as Trevor Thewlis put it)
by Adrian Casey (1951-59)
Part 1
Lübeck - Katharineum
I was a relatively experienced foreign traveller by then, as it was my third visit to the
same place in Germany. My German penfriend was a pupil at the school and I had
spent two days there with him in December
1955. I took the “Scarborough Flyer” (tagged
onto the London train at York without having to leave the train) and spent the night in
London. There I managed to lose my way on
52
the Underground! Next morning I caught the
morning boat train at Liverpool Street that
took me to Parkeston Quay, Harwich and the
‘day boat’. I little thought, as I showed my
passport at the “British desk”, that within less
than four years I would be an Immigration
Officer and standing on the other side of that
very same desk. According to a notice by the
purser’s office, the Dutch ferry was fitted with
Denny-Brown stabilisers; they did little good
as far as I was concerned. I had taken seasickness tablets; although I was not actually
vomiting sick, the side effects were so awful
that I never took such tablets again - I preferred vomiting! (Oddly enough, I have never
been seasick since.)
As soon as the train moved off from Hoek van
Holland, I went to the restaurant car, where I
found the same Dutch steward as on my previous outward trip in December 1955. A couple of cups of coffee and a good meal soon
overcame the side effects of the sea-sickness
tablets. Among the other passengers on the
train in Holland was a drunken Norwegian
seaman clutching a bottle of gin. Also on the
train were two khaki-uniformed Dutch Marechausee (immigration) officers who were
checking passports. The seaman was standing
outside our compartment, obviously giving
them some lip; they were out of our field of
vision until suddenly a uniformed arm shot
out with a fist on the end and knocked the
Norwegian down! When they asked to see
our documents, everybody was tremendously
polite. At the next station there was an unscheduled stop where we all watched as he
was literally thrown off the train.
Changing trains at Hamburg was a doddle,
even though the station was busy. Arriving at
Lübeck Hauptbahnhof a few hours before
dawn, I was met off the train by a uniformed
railway police officer who explained that my
hosts, the Schröders, had been delayed on
their way back from Frankfurt and there was
nobody at their home yet. I would therefore
have to wait at the station for several hours
for somebody to collect me. He let me leave
my luggage in the police office and settled me
in the station cafeteria. I breakfasted on ersatz
coffee, black bread (it’s dark brown), margarine and plum jam, read the newspaper and
dozed until about midday when the Bavarian
Haustochter (au pair) collected me. (Her name
was Gudrun, but I used to call her ‘Liquorice’
because it gives you a Gudrun for your
money!)
I had already met the two Schröder sons and
knew something of their family with whom I
was to stay for the next five months. Herr
Schröder was a Lutheran pastor at St Martin’s
church who had two sons and two daughters.
My rent was £7 a month, which was excellent
value. There was a sink and cold tap outside
my garret, which overlooked the side of the
church. I had to wash and shave in cold water. The mattress on the bed was in three sections, which had to be rotated once a week. I
had to leave my bed open first thing in the
morning and make it neatly after breakfast.
The bedding was a starched bottom sheet that
was changed once a week, a feather duvet
with a cover that Gudrun changed once a
month, and a coarse army blanket.
On the first laundry day I spotted Mrs
Schröder examining my bedsheet carefully for
signs of bedwetting or masturbation. She became suspicious when I did not submit my
underpants for examination and laundering I washed them each night and dried them on
the radiator so that I would always have fresh
ones. I adopted a similar procedure with my
pyjama trousers before handing them in. I
overheard her muttering about my personal
hygiene for not wearing underpants. I dread
to think of her reaction if she had found semen stains on the bedclothes! (If I ever had
the urge to masturbate, all I had to do was
think of her face - she had a really ugly mug!)
Every single day began at six, and each member of the household was allotted a time slot
in the lavatory - if I was late, I had to negotiate a different slot or wait till last. There were
strict rules about cleanliness in there and
about ‘slopping out’ - we each had a chamber
pot in our bedroom and were supposed to use
that if necessary during the night to avoid
53
The Scarborough Cricket Club will be pleased to see members of the
Old Scarborians Association at any of the County and Festival matches
during the 2003 cricket season. The programme of major fixtures is
detailed below.
2003 MAJOR FIXTURES
23rd - 25th JUNE : ENGLAND UNDER 17’s v YORKSHIRE ACADEMY
23rd - 26th JULY : FRIZZELL COUNTY CHAMPIONSHIP
YORKSHIRE v HAMPSHIRE:
27th JULY : NATIONAL CRICKET LEAGUE
YORKSHIRE v KENT
117th ANNUAL FESTIVAL
10th AUGUST : YORKSHIRE v LANCASHIRE
Festival Sponsor - Scarborough Building Society
11th AUGUST : COMBINED SERVICES v MCC
Festival Sponsor - Sir Peter Yarranton
12th AUGUST: YORKSHIRE LEAGUE v BRADFORD LEAGUE
Festival Sponsor - Mr. Keith Moss
th
13 - 16th AUGUST : FRIZZELL COUNTY CHAMPIONSHIP
YORKSHIRE v WORCESTERSHIRE
Festival Sponsor 13th - W. Boyes & Co. Limited
Festival Sponsor 14th - Skanska Construction Limited
13th AUGUST : TETLEY’S BITTER FESTIVAL DINNER
17th AUGUST : CRICKET FESTIVAL SERVICE at ST. MARY’S PARISH CHURCH
l7th AUGUST : NATIONAL CRICKET LEAGUE
YORKSHIRE v WORCESTERSHIRE
Festival Sponsor –McCain Foods (GB) Limited
(Programme subject to alteration)
Have you ever thought of becoming a Member, and if so, do you know just what privileges
are attached to such membership? For £50.00 see 13 days of county and festival cricket with
a turnstile value of about £145.00 with reduced rates for country, senior citizen and junior
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For further details contact The Secretary, Scarborough Cricket Club, Cricket Ground, North
Marine Road, Scarborough, North Yorkshire, Y012 7TJ Telephone (01723) 365625
54
disturbing the others. (I used to tip my washing water into the chamber pot with any
urine and empty it all into the sink outside
my room, although I had been told that disposing of urine in this way was verboten.)
Prompt at 0700 hours we reported to the dining room where we took it in turns to read a
passage from the bible, sang a hymn to Frau
Schröder’s piano accompaniment, said grace
and sat to breakfast. This always consisted of
haferflocken (oatflakes) with cold milk, coffee
with cold milk, schwarzbrot (black bread) and
leberwurst liver sausage) or home-made apple
& plum jam, but no hot food. I would then
make up sandwiches for my lunch - I could
have as many as I would eat, which I put in a
frischhaltertüte (plastic bag). There was a 20minutes walk to the school, which began at
eight.
On the first day I went straight to the enquiry
window and gave my name. I was greeted in
English, and a moment later a messenger
arrived to book me in. I explained, as politely
as possible, that I wished to speak German as
much as possible, which cheered up everybody. For the time being, I was signed in as a
member of staff, while it was decided which
class I would join. (This permission was never
rescinded, and I used to pop into the staff
common-room now and again for coffee and
biscuits. I even had a pigeonhole, in which I
would sometimes find an exercise book with
a note from one of the English teachers asking
about some point of English usage, or asking
whether I minded filling in for him/her on a
certain date.)
Eventually, I settled for Untersekunda (Lower
5th) with occasional attendances at the science
arbeitsgemeinschaft, a sort of extra-curricular
group at the end of the normal school day. At
the school there was no assembly; that appeared to be a British institution. The register
was taken by the class captain
(klassensprecher). If you arrived late you simply apologised to the teacher and took your
place in class. There was no such thing as
detention for latecomers. Oh, yes, school finished for the day at 1 pm; the e-c groups went
on for up to two more hours. To compensate
for the short five-hour school day, there was
more homework than we were given at
SBHS. There was no such thing as school dinners, but there was a mid-morning break at
10 when hot drinks in glass bottles and hot
Danish pastries could be purchased from a
room in the basement. You made your selection and carried them to the end of the room
where you paid for them. If you were first in
line, the drink was almost too hot to hold and
I learned to go in a couple of minutes later. By
then the queue to pay was quite long and it
was possible to swallow the drink and eat the
pastry before paying for them. However, the
idea of not paying for something you had
already consumed never crossed anyone’s
mind.
The science arbeitsgemeinschaft was always
interesting. (The science master had once
shared lodgings in France with a Scotsman,
and he used to mimic his mispronunciation of
German during anecdotes. I remember him
describing one occasion when the Scotsman
remarked, “Yes, we say ‘Beat Hoh-ven’ too.”)
There was an experiment to produce varying
effects by passing a very narrow beam of
light from a point source through two very
fine grids of different ratings to produce various colours of the spectrum. Another time we
experimented with polarising filters and Agfa
colour negative film - we went on an outside
trip for this one, using a Leica camera, then
came back and reversal processed the film;
the colour negative film base was clear at that
time. The developing tank and film reel were
stainless steel, and the film had to be removed after the first development, exposed
to light, then fed back into the reel in a sink
full of water to avoid scratching, before completing the processing.
I wrote to both ‘Bon’ Clarke (from Germany)
and Les Brown (from Germany and France)
to let them know how I was doing. Also, all
the time I was away, I was kept up to date
55
with a fortnightly exchange of letters with
Peter “Pew” Mole in Modern 6B to which
everybody in both 6Bs contributed. Besides
news of doings and goings, these were enlivened in both directions with liberal measures of sixth form “humour”. This included
the annual inter High School “Ebberston And
Back Race” for putty, and a reference to my
“act with dry sticks” (my address in Lübeck
was at No 38, or acht und dreissig Schwartauer
Allee ). There were regular requests for information on German (and later French) slang or
about how to swear in those languages. My
foreign schoolmates used to borrow these
letters in the vague hope that they might
learn more than was available in English lessons. Despite my enthusiasm for physics and
chemistry, I was never much good at them at
SBHS, but I enjoyed these lessons in Germany. Many a science lesson was enlivened
as I struggled to explain eruditely, in German, something which had previously defied
me in English, eventually tailing off with a
Neddy Seagoon “Huuurrhh”. No one there
was familiar with the Goon Show, but my
classmates looked forward to its catchphrases
dropping from my lips. (“You can’t get the
wood” was their favourite.) (In German,
lurgi, of all things, turned out to be a process
for making ersatz coal gas, and the class spent
a day being shown round the local lurgi
works!)
It was while I was in Lübeck that the uprising
took place in Hungary and the Suez crisis
arose. Soviet and East German troops massed
on the border with West Germany, which in
the case of Adrian Casey was only a mile or
so away, and I used to take the tram to the
border for a look at the massed Soviet armour, all set to unleash World War III. Facing
them was a single Bundesgrenzschutz (Federal
border guard) officer in a field green Volkswagen who advised me against taking photographs of the Russian tanks. (I had visions of
a Soviet invasion just to confiscate my film!)
Everybody at the Katharineum expected me
to have nothing but Suez on my mind and
assumed I wanted to discuss the subject,
which I did not. When I arrived one morning
in a filthy mood, they assumed I had received
bad news of the ‘war’; in fact, I was furious
because I had been unable to receive The
Goon Show on BFN the previous evening!
The first English lesson following the latest
Goon Show would feature me relating the
story of last night’s broadcast to a totally bewildered class. Some of my classmates had
tried listening to it but failed to see what was
funny about, for example, a long silence and
the luxury version, an even longer silence. Of
course, a long silence taken out of context had
to be well-written to be funny, I explained!
In one of Pew’s early letters, he reminded me
that I was supposed to be learning Latin from scratch in a foreign language! I decided
to go to an evening class, which was so well
run that I could hold a simple conversation in
Latin by the time I returned to SBHS. The
chap who sat next to me lived on a farm and
invited me to visit him and his family. I cycled out of the city and along some very minor roads, then along a cart track and eventually had to dismount and follow a footpath to
the farmstead. I was made very welcome. My
friend’s father confessed that he had been a
Nazi and showed me his party card and lapel
badge. In that tiny community it was practically compulsory to join the NSDAP, he told
me. He opened an old tin and showed me
something he had kept as a reminder of how
things were in the Nazi-time: a cake of soap
stamped “RJF” for Reines Juden Fett - Pure
Jewish Fat. In the early days of concentration
camps, he said, the people were told they
were segregation camps for Jews. By 1943
though, you could be sent to a KZ
(konzentrationslager) just for criticising the
government - or if your face didn’t fit at
work! A lot of the intelligentsia disappeared
that way, he told me. Of course, I was reminded, the British created the first concentration camps, in South Africa for the Boers.
There were also some evening classes in German for Germans, so I joined these. One of
56
the teachers worked at the local technical
high school, which was next door to my digs.
He inveigled me into teaching English Conversation for a double period on Friday
mornings. I was introduced to my class of
over 40 students, who were my age, and left
to get on with it. It was a bit disconcerting to
go into a classroom as a teacher, because all
the pupils stood up as I entered and chorused, “Guten Morgen, Herr Professor!” For
some reason, this class enjoyed Goon humour
more than those at the Katharineum. I started
going out socially with them and was invited
to attend when one of the girls got married.
The party lasted into the early hours and I
was locked out of my digs. Ringing the doorbell at 2 a.m. must have woken the whole
household, but not a word was said to me
afterwards.
Bon Clarke had really taken me to task after
my first holiday in Germany in 1954, because
I had not practised speaking German as much
as he thought I should. My excuse was that
everybody there had wanted to speak English. He took me off to the library where he
railed at me for “wasting your father’s
money!” Before leaving for Lübeck in 1956,
he told me to tell people, “Ich kann nur
Deutsch und Chinesisch! (I only speak German
and Chinese.)” One day a Chinese Lutheran
pastor came to visit the church, and the
Schroder invited him to meet me so I could
practice my Chinese. Of course, I had to admit to him that I did not speak Chinese. He
sympathised with my explanation - that I was
there to study German - and taught me some
Mandarin. I recited a scene from a Goon
Show about China, which he found amusing
(I think it was the one about knocking six
thousand times on a door and asking for Ah
Pong - “Curses! It’s always next door in
China!”). Another visitor to the house was
Pastor Martin Niemöller. We had ‘done’ him
in a German lesson with Bon, and Chicko (Mr
Hampton) had mentioned him to me. Somebody took a picture of me shaking his hand,
but I have lost it.
Most people outside school recognised me as
a foreigner by my accent - but in view of my
apparent inability to understand English (an
opinion of me expressed by most members of
the staff at SBHS at one time or another), and
my pathetic attempts at Latin, they usually let
me use German in the end. (“What do you
think of my English? Is it good?” “Ach so! Es
klingt sehr gut - aber was heißt es, hein? It
sounds very good - but what does it mean?”)
The Katharineum had a good athletics team,
which I joined and trained regularly with
them. During my term there were two sports
meets against the other principal schools, the
Oberschule zum Dom (Cathedral School) and
the Johanneum. I was not allowed to play for
the Katharineum on either occasion, but I ran
round the inside of the track shouting encouragement to my comrades. Instead of a starting pistol, there was a device made of two
hinged pieces of wood. When these were
slammed together, it caused a loud bang.
As I was preparing to leave at the end of
term, the headmaster invited me to join him
in his panelled study for coffee and sandwiches, handed me a certificate of attendance
and told me that I would be welcome back as
a student teacher if ever I wished. He wished
me well in my intended career in the Foreign
Service and told me that a number of his former pupils were in the West German
Auslandsdienst. (I spent a day back there in
1961, when he confessed that I spoke better
German than he did - I was very careful with
grammar and the use of such things as the
future subjunctive. He was very pleased to
learn that I was now a member of the Immigration Service, that had only 250 officers and
was considered the elite of the UK civil service. I won’t repeat what IOs thought of the
Diplomatic Service!)
At half-term, Johannes Schröder and I went
on a cycling holiday through SchleswigHolstein. We set off for Neustadt in heavy
rain and despite our cycling capes we were
soon soaked to the skin. I was wearing khaki
shorts and my bicycle had a black rubber
saddle. That night I discovered that the seat
57
of my shorts was stained black. We stayed at
a Jugendherberge (youth hostel). Supper that
night was a thick green concoction with suspicious-looking brown lumps floating in it. It
smelled as bad as it looked. However, cold
lager (in unlabelled Grolsch-type half-litre
bottles) was very cheap and helped disguise
the taste. It was supposed to be low in alcohol
so it could be sold in the youth hostel, but
some of the other patrons managed to get a
bit squiffy on it. (Johannes claimed to be teetotal, so he bought peppermint tea; then he
tried some of my lager and found he preferred its effect.) In our dormitory that night
there were mysterious scamperings in the
darkness. Then somebody shouted that tomorrow’s supper had escaped and a torchlight hunt began for rats.
In Schleswig we stayed with the Bishop of
Schleswig, Herr Westermann. There was
none of the religious fervour that I had expected. We said grace before supper and that
was it. The bishop had a dining table, chairs
and a desk that had been made from the 800year-old timbers from the steeple of the cathedral, which had to be rebuilt after the war. He
had invited an American tourist to stay the
night, a Mr Pifer from Ohio. He introduced
me to adding strawberry jam to boiled eggs at
breakfast. I also remember breakfast there for
the vast amount of sliced cheeses and sausages to fill the brötchen (rolls) and butter
from a local farm. After the meal the bishop
took us to the common by his house and
demonstrated how to throw a boomerang,
which he had acquired while working in Australia. It spun away into the distance then as it
began its return flight about two metres
above the ground a party of ramblers
emerged from a dip, right in its path. Fortunately it did not hit them although they heard
the whizzing sound it made as it passed close
above them. They were ever so nice about it
when they recognised the bishop as the person who had thrown it.
At Flensburg I popped over the border into
Denmark for an hour or so and bought some
bottles of Tuborg strong dark beer. The youth
hostel was a wooden building with no fire
escape, and the lights were turned off at ten
o’clock. During the night the Tuborg took
effect and twice I felt my way along to where
I thought the toilet was. When I relieved myself, there was no answering sound of water.
In the morning I discovered I had peed down
the stairs! The next night we stayed at a
newly-built hostel where we were the only
guests. The warden said it wasn’t worth cooking for just two, so we bought pumpernickel
and honey and made sandwiches. With the
place to ourselves, we washed our clothes
and hung them to dry on the radiators. In the
morning we spent about half an hour in the
showers - there was a coin-operated meter for
the hot water. At Husum there wasn’t a
youth hostel so we stayed at the local pfadfinderhaus (scout hostel). They weren’t very
welcoming and the boy scouts had scoffed all
the supper; there was only peppermint tea
left. In the morning we were only offered
ersatz coffee.
Then it was back to Neustadt. After two days
without a proper meal, even the peas and
sausage stew was welcome, and we actually
had second helpings. As I trumpeted in the
bog that night, I explained to a fellow hosteller what I had eaten. “Ach, Erbsensuppe ist
gefährlich!” he exclaimed (Pea soup is dangerous).
Like many German cities, Lübeck has trams
as well as buses. One day I was cycling to the
town centre when the front tyre got stuck in a
tramline just as a tram was bearing down on
me with the driver sounding his bell at me. I
only managed to prise the tyre free in the nick
of time!
I was also shown round the local slaughterhouse and followed the progress of both cattle and pigs through the processes. I may
have misunderstood, but I had the impression that pigs were only stunned by the electrocution process. Some of the terms used
were new to me and in such cases I was
shown the item in question. In particular I
recall Eingeweide and was shown a wheelbarrow full of them - still moving pigs’ entrails! I
58
left the place with a souvenir parcel of freshly- 4) In which month do Russians celebrate the
made pork sausages and beef steak.
October Revolution? November
On two nights a week I had a Latin evening
class followed by a German one elsewhere in
the city. There was insufficient time for me to
return to my digs for the evening meal but at
that time of year there were wurstbuden (sausage
stalls) in the Rathausplatz. For the equivalent of
half a crown I got a large griddled sausage, sauerkraut, two brötchen, real butter, a pot of mustard, and a large mug of real coffee. I always
went to the same stall, where the proprietor got
to know me, and I soon noticed that I was given
the biggest sausage for the standard price. On
my last visit before I returned to Scarborough
they gave me a free meal and a box of Lübeck
marzipan in sausage shapes!
5) What is a camelʹs hair brush made of?
Squirrel fur
6) The Canary Islands in the Pacific are named
after what animal? Dogs
7) What was King George VIʹs first name? Albert
8) What colour is a purple finch? Crimson
9) Where are Chinese gooseberries from? New
Zealand
(Editor: What do you mean, you failed?)
CROSSWORD SOLUTION
November 2002
The first correct solution was received from
Adrian Casey (1951-59) who was proudly sportI had to obtain a residence permit
ing his prize of an OSA tie at the London Lunch.
(Aufenthaltserlaubnis) from the town hall
Congratulations Adrian, and thank you to the
(Rathhaus) soon after I arrived in Lübeck. I also
members who took the time to complete and
had to report my impending departure, on
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
which occasion the official was very pleasant to B I F F
I S H E R W O O D
8
9
me and sent me along to meet the Bürgermeister L
O
G
T
L
H
L
C
11
(mayor). This stout gentleman asked for my 10A J P E R R Y
B R E A D T H
impressions of his city then entertained me to K
P
O
L
O
R
S
B
13
coffee and schlagsahnekuchen (cream cakes) and 12E P I C U R E
W R E A T H
presented me with a signed copy of the official
M
S
S
L
A
E
15
16
17
souvenir booklet and the coat of arms in Lübeck 14
O C H R E
E X P O S U R E S
marzipan.
R
S
A
21
Both Lübeck and the Katharineum have web 18E X 19T R 20I N S I C
S
sites at www.tzl.de and www.tzl.de/
H
L
K
C
23
24
25
katharineum respectively. The former includes
T A Y L O R
E X A
a slide-show of the old area of the city, where 26A
L
E
A
D
L
28
there is a laser show, while the school one has 27
D R A U G H T
O X B
photos of the building both interiors and exteO
M
A
I
U
Y
rior. There used to be a section for former pupils
29
B I L L P O T T S
to get in touch but that has now been removed
and the old lady is behaving herself with the send in their solutions.
greatest decorum.
PRIZE CROSSWORD
ANSWERS TO THE WORLD’S
EASIEST QUIZ (See page 36)
C
M
22
I
T
M
M
P
N
L
E
O
D
I
R
L
L
O
I
D
30
H
E
H
E
-3
Compiled by Alan Bridgewater
(1933-40)
2) Which country makes Panama hats? Ecuador
Answers please, to reach the Editor before 30th
June 2003. Photocopies accepted. For contact
details see page 1.
Across
3) From which animal do we get cat gut? Sheep
and Horses
7 This company has its name on the gates of
what the older members would call The Athletic
1) How long did the Hundred Years War
last? 116 years
59
1
Ground. (6)
8 (and 12 across) Battles of yesteryear are refought here during the
summer. (8)
9 Short for Reserve Officers Training Corps. (4)
10 (and 19 across) The local OSA
dinners have been held here recently. (9)
2
3
4
7
6
8
9
10
12
11
13
14
15
16
17
12 See 8 across (4)
18
13 His Chemistry lessons were
often punctuated by Welsh exclamations! (9)
22
19
20
23
21
24
18 Dues were paid when we
25
visited the tuck-shop (4)
19 See 10 across (5)
20 Our Maths teachers taught us
about these parts of the circle. (4)
5
26
31
27
28
29
30
32
22 The old Odeon might now be
called this. (9)
24 Two members of the staff had this name. One 14 In medicine this is defined as a stroke or seizure.
was headmaster and the other taught Maths to (5)
School Certificate level. (4)
15 Harwood and Stainton come to mind when this
26 Oneʹs first experience of Room 10 was certainly is mentioned. (4)
this! (9)
16 Tich Richardson was always telling us to watch
30 It was best to do this when told to do something this while he went through it! (10)
by some members of staff! (4)
17 A state in Bill Pottsʹ homeland. (4)
31 A wing threequarter had to be this if he wished 21 Some of the members started their scholastic
to survive. (8)
careers at these schools, one of which was in Queen
32 We all used these to show that we had missed Street. (8)
out a letter or word. (6)
23 The sheltered side of a ship. (3)
Down
25 A Biology teacher after Taffy. (5)
1 When we had passed the entrance exam we could 27 Tarzanʹs real forename! (4)
all be considered to be this. (8)
28 The name we all used for Maurice Cornish. (4)
2 This is the time when skipping on the Foreshore is
29 In the morn we all hoped that P.T. would be
the foremost activity. (10)
taken by Stodd. (4)
3 When it came to using paint, many of us could
said to be this. (5)
LATE NEWS
4 The chemists among us would say that this is a Peter Newham(1954-61) writes
quartz-like form of hydrated silica. (4)
Congratulations to all concerned with the London Lunch, which was most enjoyable. The
6 We have this when Mary has left Yarmouth. (4)
strong Scarborough contingent who had made
11 A mild expression which might have been used the effort to travel down from Civilization quite
by teachers when marking the homework offering put to shame those of us who have not exerted
themselves to attend the Scarborough Dinners –
of some pupils! (3)
5 A powder most often used for babies. (4)
60
even if, as I understand from Mike Bowman, FORTHCOMING EVENTS
several Yorkshire wives had been so suspicious
as to accompany their husbands on this occasion Joint Reception & Buffet: Saturday September
27th 2003 with SGHS Old Girls (for members &
to keep a watchful eye on them!
guests). Booking form enclosed.
On the subject of Summer Times, as a relative new
boy I feel somewhat presumptuous in expressing AGM: Tuesday 25th November 2003 7.30pm
a view, but “The Scarborian” or “The Old Scar- Boden Room Stephen Joseph Theatre.
borian” (if we admit to not being as young as our
fantasies) would surely be preferable as a title.
Even if one ignored the incorrect “summer” connotations of a twice yearly magazine, I like to
think our academic age range was more appropriately the Spring rather than the Summer of
our lives, otherwise some of us are in danger of
slipping, if not into second childhood, into a late
winter!
Having said that, obviously the contents of the
Magazine matter more than the name, and although I sometimes with age struggle to remember recent events, I surprise myself at my belated
recollection of events some 45 years ago, triggered partly by Summer Times and partly by a
fund of stories from seasoned reprobates at the
Luncheon, Gridley P being a particular culprit,
who (perhaps not wholly deservedly) still looks
not totally dissimilar from his appearance all
those years ago, which is perhaps more than can
be said of some of the rest of us!
It all seems a long time ago (and indeed it was)
but we are what we are today as a result, although I am not sure to whether such a statement is a matter for self-congratulation or otherwise!
(Editor: Peter’s response is as a result of my
query at the London Lunch as to whether the
title Summer Times - which we understand was
originally intended to represent the “Summer”
of our lives - rather than the season of publication, remains appropriate. I expressed the view
that the present title is possible a little twee
and from a quick straw poll at the lunch it
seemed there was probably a majority for a
change to say, The Scarborian or The Old Scarborian. In true democratic fashion members left
a final decision to your committee. However,
members’ views would be appreciated before
any decision is taken)
Christmas Dinner: Friday 28th November 2003
Palm Court Hotel.
London Lunch, (provisional) Saturday March
13th 2004.
POSTCRIPT
• An
index to Volume 42 is available free of
charge in exchange for a stamped addressed
envelope, from Adrian Casey,
22
Gordon Road, Surbiton, Greater London. KT5
9AR E-mail: [email protected]
•A
CD containing all issues of Summer Times
since 1999, viewable on a computer, costs only
£2 (£3 overseas). Order from David Fowler.
•A
few copies of Frank Binders tour de force
remain available from Mike Rines. He offers
these at £5 a copy plus £1 UK p& p. (Proceeds
to FB’s family). Please contact Mike direct at 32
Saxon Way, Melton, WOODBRIDGE,
Suffolk, IP12 1LG Telephone 01394 610034.
E-mail [email protected]
• The final copy date for our next issue is 15th
August 2003.
• John
Forster (1955-60) appeared on “Who
wants to be a Millionaire” on Saturday 5th
April. Not bad timing for an Accountant! He
excelled – and won £128,000 – without coughing! He agreed we could mention his success
and added, “To answer the question everyoneʹs asking: I may well escape some of the
next English winter by going to see friends in
Australia. I shall almost certainly go to Trinidad (maybe Barbados, too) for the cricket etc
this time next year. Itʹs all very exciting. I
MAY be able to come up with something for
the Autumn Summer Times - but no promises!
3
4
Published by The Old Scarborians Association, Telephone 01723 365448
Printed by Prontaprint, 5 Station Shops, Westborough, Scarborough
Telephone 01723 367715

May - Old Scarborians

Transcription

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