Summer Times, Volume 48, November 2005 - Old Scarborians
Summer Times, Volume 48, November 2005 - Old Scarborians
Summer Times, Volume 48, November 2005 - Old Scarborians
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<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong><br />
<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> is the Journal<br />
of the<br />
<strong>Old</strong><br />
<strong>Scarborians</strong><br />
Association<br />
Members of the Association are<br />
former pupils and members of<br />
staff of<br />
Scarborough High School for Boys<br />
<strong>Volume</strong> <strong>48</strong> <strong>November</strong> <strong>2005</strong><br />
<strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Association<br />
Web address: http://oldscarborians.org<br />
Price £1.50
David Pottage<br />
International Golf Course<br />
Architect<br />
A Complete Service<br />
from<br />
Project Appraisal<br />
through<br />
Detailed Design<br />
to<br />
Turnkey Development<br />
70 Whitesmead Road<br />
<strong>Old</strong> Town<br />
Stevenage<br />
Herts. SG1 3JZ<br />
Tel: 01438 221026<br />
Fax:01438 229271<br />
e-mail davidpottage@ntlworld.com<br />
Member European Institute of Golf Course Architects
1<br />
EVENTS DIARY <strong>2005</strong>/6<br />
Please enter these in your diary<br />
NOW!<br />
AGM - Tuesday, 22nd <strong>November</strong> <strong>2005</strong>, Hoxton Road<br />
Chapel (at the Columbus Ravine end) at 7.30 pm<br />
Contact Mick Bowman or Peter Robson if you have queries<br />
OSA ANNUAL DINNER- Friday, 2 nd December <strong>2005</strong>,<br />
Palm Court Hotel, Scarborough, 7pm for 8pm. Tickets £20.<br />
Please use the booking form already circulated. Contact Mick Bowman with<br />
queries<br />
BOXING DAY RUGBY- Monday, 26 th December <strong>2005</strong>.<br />
All members are encouraged to attend what can be an excellent social occasion.<br />
Contact Barry Beanland for further details 01723 367023<br />
OSA LONDON LUNCH- HOUSE OF LORDS<br />
Thursday, 23rd March 2006 as Guests of Lord Imbert.<br />
Optional tour of the House, 11am price £2 per head.<br />
Tickets £50 include Reception at Noon, & Luncheon<br />
12.30pm. Limited to 50 members. Book now.<br />
Please use the booking form already circulated. Contact Mick Bowman with<br />
queries.<br />
CONTACT DETAILS ARE ON THE NEXT PAGE<br />
Please send items for the next <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> to<br />
me, David Fowler, (address on page 2) as soon<br />
as possible but to reach me by 15th February<br />
2006. Items sent by e‐mail or on CD are of<br />
great help, otherwise please type or write, on<br />
one side of your paper. All copy received will<br />
be passed on to my successor as soon as one is<br />
appointed.
COMMITTEE 2004-<strong>2005</strong><br />
PRESIDENT<br />
Peter Robson, Forge Villa, High Street,<br />
Ebberston, North Yorkshire. YO13 9PA<br />
Tel: 01723 859335<br />
E‐mail: Peter.Robson@btinternet.com<br />
IMMEDIATE PAST PRESIDENT<br />
Mick Bowman Tel:01287 634650<br />
E‐mail: mjwb@supanet.com<br />
HONORARY LIFE VICE<br />
PRESIDENTS<br />
Frank R Bamforth Tel: 01723 364432<br />
Jack Layton Tel: 01723 362455<br />
Geoff Nalton Tel: 01723 354268<br />
Doug Owen Tel: 01723 360960<br />
SECRETARY & PUBLICITY<br />
Mick Bowman,<br />
9 Ilkley Grove, Guisborough, Cleveland<br />
TS14 8LL<br />
Tel: 01287 634650<br />
E‐mail: mjwb@supanet.com<br />
MEMBERSHIP SECRETARY<br />
Colin Hurd, ʹLing Vistaʹ, Quarry Bank,<br />
Burniston, Scarborough, North Yorkshire,<br />
YO13 0JF<br />
Tel: 01723 870597)<br />
E‐mail: colinhurd@yahoo.co.uk<br />
FINANCIAL, SPORT, &<br />
MAGAZINE ADVERTISING<br />
Chris Found, Pinewood Cottage, Silpho,<br />
Scarborough. North Yorkshire.<br />
YO13 0JP<br />
Tel: 01723 882343<br />
E‐mail: DFound@ukf.net<br />
SUMMER TIMES EDITORIAL<br />
David Fowler,<br />
56 Prince of Wales Apartments,<br />
Esplanade,<br />
Scarborough, North Yorkshire. YO11 2BB<br />
Tel: 01723 3654<strong>48</strong><br />
E‐mail: osa@farthings.org.uk<br />
2<br />
DEPUTY EDITOR<br />
Ray Bloom, El Alsson School, PO Box 13,<br />
Embaba,12411, Cairo, Egypt<br />
Tel: mob 201035<strong>48</strong>629<br />
E‐mail: bloom_364@hotmail.com<br />
OSA WEB SITE<br />
http://oldscarborians.org<br />
Bill Potts, 18<strong>48</strong> Hidden Hills Drive,<br />
Roseville, California, 95661‐5804 USA<br />
Tel: +001 916 773‐3865<br />
E‐mail: osa@wfpconsulting.com<br />
COMMITTEE MEMBERS<br />
Howard Acklam 01723 584061<br />
Colin Adamson 01723 364373<br />
Paul Gridley 01723 370806<br />
Maurice Johnson 01262 470272<br />
Michael Peart 01723 864164<br />
Eric Rushforth 01723 364018<br />
Geoff Winn 01723 362414<br />
Ex Officio<br />
Chris Coole, Auditor 01723 577587<br />
CONTENTS<br />
1. Dates for your diary<br />
2. Committee contact details<br />
3. Editorial<br />
4. Presidential<br />
5. Secretarial<br />
6. Treasurial<br />
6. Membership Secretarial<br />
7. Sporting Events<br />
8. OSA web site report<br />
8. From Here & There<br />
13. Barry Beanland collects Honour<br />
14. Freedom Honour for Journalist<br />
14. Peter Taylor tackles AL QAEDA<br />
14. Obituaries<br />
20. Memories –School at War<br />
21. Reminiscences—<strong>2005</strong> Brian Millington<br />
28. Joey’s seat<br />
28. Kettles & Mobile phones<br />
28. <strong>Old</strong> Scarborian No. 2—Dr Jack Binns<br />
30. Alfred Samuel Tetley<br />
31. Down the years—A tale of three generations.<br />
35. Impending Retirement
35. Michael Herman<br />
36. Len Hutton – Some Memories. Michael<br />
Rines<br />
40. OSA Golf Cups<br />
40. School Camps—Brian Millington<br />
47. <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> ‐‐ David Fowler<br />
49. May <strong>2005</strong> Crossword Solution<br />
50. <strong>November</strong> <strong>2005</strong> Crossword<br />
51. Memories are made of — Ray Lazenby<br />
52. Wings of Youth<br />
55. Late News<br />
56. A note from Lyndon Wainwright<br />
EDITORIAL<br />
reins.<br />
Welcome to <strong>Volume</strong> <strong>48</strong><br />
of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>. This<br />
will probably be my last<br />
issue, as all readers will<br />
be aware that for the last<br />
couple of years or so I<br />
have been looking for<br />
someone to take over the<br />
When I succeeded Frank Bamforth in 1999,<br />
Frank urged upon me the importance of continuity.<br />
I took this seriously and I promised<br />
myself that, committee and membership willing,<br />
I would aim to produce <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong><br />
twice a year for 5 years. I have fulfilled that<br />
promise and more. Despite a number of appeals<br />
no volunteers have offered to take over.<br />
However, I do thank those members who<br />
have responded and said they would have<br />
volunteered had they not been already well<br />
committed with other responsibilities. I know<br />
that feeling!<br />
Now, having not found a replacement; and<br />
following a further brief period of ill health, I<br />
feel the time has come to pass responsibility<br />
for finding a successor to the committee.<br />
At Secretary Mick Bowman’s suggestion I<br />
have produced a ‘Job Description’ which<br />
gives details of how I have tackled the job.<br />
This is by no means the only way; it is how I<br />
have prepared and put together the magazine,<br />
3<br />
although it could be designed and laid out in<br />
many other ways. This ‘Job Description’ appears<br />
on page 47. If any member who might<br />
be interested has any questions or suggestions,<br />
please do get in touch with me. The<br />
committee are looking for a replacement as<br />
soon as possible, otherwise this could well be<br />
the last issue of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>. I will provide<br />
any help required by a successor – but only if<br />
it is requested, as I do not wish to tread on<br />
toes.<br />
Not only do we desperately need someone to<br />
take over <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>, equally urgently we<br />
need a Secretary. You will recall that Mick<br />
Bowman stepped into the breach on a temporary<br />
basis when he handed over the presidency<br />
to previous Secretary Peter Robson. For<br />
eighteen months Mick has been a most able<br />
and conscientious Secretary, but because he<br />
has done an excellent job members tend to<br />
forget that his original offer was for a very<br />
short term until a replacement could be<br />
found. Like me, Mick now feels he wishes to<br />
have time to pursue other interests.<br />
I have greatly enjoyed compiling <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong> over nearly seven years, in corresponding<br />
with you, and exchanging numerous e‐<br />
mails and telephone calls. I shall miss my<br />
twice a year involvement. However, my need<br />
to pass it on is twofold. First I have numerous<br />
other interests which are time consuming and<br />
I do need to thin these down so I have more<br />
time for family and myself. Second, I do feel<br />
that a new face at the helm of the magazine<br />
will bring new ideas, freshness, and hopefully<br />
continuity for another few years. We also<br />
need to encourage younger members to participate.<br />
The ideal solution would be for one<br />
of them to offer to take over.<br />
Apart from a handful of regular and supportive<br />
contributors, recently I have found that<br />
fewer ‘meaty’ items are submitted, and a lot<br />
of the content comes from e‐mails, letters,<br />
telephone calls, the Web Discussion Forum,<br />
items I glean from local newspapers and so<br />
on.
Members also seem to be more demanding<br />
than a few years ago—or maybe I’m becoming<br />
one of those ‘grumpy old men’. There<br />
seems to be a perception that, as officers of<br />
the Association, we are full‐time, paid employees<br />
at the beck and call of members. Our<br />
time ‐ many hours of it ‐ is, of course, given<br />
willingly and freely. If you do not get a reply<br />
to a letter, or phone call, or e‐mail by return,<br />
do bear with us and appreciate that we do<br />
have other calls on our time.<br />
Neither are our wives and partners paid secretaries<br />
as was implied when one irate member<br />
(who, from his calling should have known<br />
better!), berated my wife one Sunday afternoon<br />
for some small matter of my doing with<br />
which he did not agree.<br />
Finally I make no apology for repeating my<br />
plea which appeared in our last issue in May<br />
this year when I wrote, “If the Association is<br />
not to fade into the mists of time as have so<br />
many other similar organisations, the help,<br />
involvement, support and contributions of<br />
younger members, is absolutely crucial.<br />
“Your committee works hard to encourage<br />
new membership. But each of the 675 Association<br />
members out there, by encouraging a<br />
younger ex‐pupil to join us, can do more in a<br />
few minutes than your committee can do in<br />
five years.<br />
Within this copy of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> is a membership<br />
application form. As readers are already<br />
likely to be members, please make a<br />
real effort to pass this form on to a nonmember.<br />
If they can be younger than yourself<br />
so much the better – that will extend the potential<br />
lifespan of the Association. And do<br />
encourage them to complete their application<br />
in your presence. Then offer to post it to us<br />
with their £10 Life membership fee! People<br />
can be very forgetful!<br />
Photocopy the form if you are able to pass it<br />
to others, as Life membership at only £10<br />
must be the bargain of the century.<br />
4<br />
With your support we stand a chance of encouraging<br />
more younger ex‐pupils to join us<br />
and of guaranteeing the medium‐term future<br />
of our Association.<br />
Last year we sent out a financial appeal to all<br />
members. That was extremely successful. Can<br />
this year’s appeal be a membership appeal?<br />
And will you make sure that this is just as<br />
successful as last year’s appeal?”<br />
Finally, a personal thank to the committee , to<br />
our contributors, our proof readers and to<br />
you all for your help and support over the<br />
last seven years. I shall continue to support<br />
the Association in any way possible.<br />
Long may the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>’ Association<br />
flourish.<br />
David Fowler (1949-55)<br />
Editor<br />
PRESIDENTIAL<br />
On the evening of July 21 st ,<br />
I was driving into Scarborough<br />
from my home at<br />
Ebberston. The radio was<br />
telling me that there had<br />
been another terrorist attack<br />
on the London transport<br />
system (fortunately<br />
unsuccessful). The rest of the news was as<br />
usual full of murder and mayhem. I switched<br />
to the sports channel; the news from Lords<br />
was that the England team had just failed<br />
their first big test against the Australians.<br />
Doom and gloom everywhere. I switched off.<br />
The next thought that came into my mind in<br />
my depressed state was that the next morning<br />
I would have to drive into Scarborough again<br />
to process the payment of the first tranche of<br />
my 2004/05 tax bill. This is my personal contribution<br />
to Mr Brown’s campaign to eliminate<br />
child poverty. I judge that I am keeping<br />
several Scottish families in designer clothing.<br />
So, no relief from my black mood there. But<br />
then I woke up to the fact that I was travelling<br />
to the North Cliff Club for a dinner with the
<strong>Old</strong> Scarborian golfers who had held, that<br />
afternoon, the second competition of the<br />
summer. It had been good weather and I<br />
could anticipate being greeted by a sunburned<br />
and cheerful group. And that’s exactly<br />
how it was. Good fun, good fellowship<br />
and very pleasant company. The perfect<br />
antidote.<br />
And that’s what I have always found <strong>Old</strong><br />
<strong>Scarborians</strong> dinners to be. Which is why I’m<br />
mystified by the decreasing numbers attending<br />
the London Lunch which always<br />
has a good ambience and is clearly enjoyed<br />
by all who attend it.<br />
The first lunch I organised was at Mossimans<br />
and we had an attendance of about 80.<br />
Since then this number has reduced by<br />
about 20 per year so that this March we<br />
were 19 in total. The committee led by the<br />
Secretary Mick Bowman is working to inject<br />
some excitement into this event and you<br />
will find news of this initiative elsewhere in<br />
this magazine<br />
My appeal to you all is to support the London<br />
Lunch and our other functions. You<br />
will enjoy the company and it will be a relief<br />
from the depressing events that impact<br />
on our lives and reduce the quality of our<br />
life. Passing a few hours in the company of<br />
kindred spirits has a therapeutic benefit.<br />
Partake of it.<br />
David Fowler took over the responsibility<br />
for <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> just at the time I was assuming<br />
the responsibilities of Secretary of<br />
the Association. As newcomers we worked<br />
closely together to stimulate interest in the<br />
OSA . David has turned the magazine into a<br />
lively read which is enjoyed by all our<br />
members. This edition may be the last one<br />
he edits. We all owe him our thanks for a<br />
job brilliantly done.<br />
Peter Robson (1945-53)<br />
President<br />
5<br />
SECRETARIAL<br />
As you will read in the<br />
magazine the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong><br />
are thriving.<br />
However we are experiencing<br />
some difficulties<br />
which are directly<br />
threatening that well<br />
being. They are the<br />
numbers attending functions and the editorship<br />
of the magazine.<br />
The London Lunch this year was its usuall<br />
success but the attendance was well down<br />
on previous years. This has become a serious<br />
concern to the committee. However due<br />
to the magnificent efforts of Maurice Johnson<br />
it has been possible to arrange for the<br />
2006 London Lunch to the held in the<br />
House of Lords. This has been done to try to<br />
find a venue that will attract members. It<br />
has resulted in a change from the usual<br />
weekend to a midweek date which we hope<br />
will not put people off.<br />
Please try to support the London and Scarborough<br />
gatherings as they are the central<br />
core that holds the association together.<br />
This edition of the <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> may well<br />
be the last ever unless we can find a volunteer<br />
willing to step into David Fowler’s<br />
shoes as editor.<br />
David has over the years produced a superb<br />
series of magazines and has put many long<br />
hours of work into them. He has, though,<br />
many other interests and for some time<br />
has found himself busier than when he was<br />
working. Due to these various demands on<br />
him he has had to tender his resignation as<br />
editor.<br />
Iʹm sure I speak for all members when I<br />
thank him for his years of hard work on our<br />
behalf. He will, Iʹm sure, be more than willing<br />
to give anyone replacing him the benefit<br />
of his experience and expertise.
Gentlemen. There must be one of you out<br />
there with time and skill capable of picking<br />
up the reins even if the magazine is issued<br />
in a different form.<br />
Mick Bowman (1954-61)<br />
Secretary<br />
6<br />
are not members of the<br />
Association. Because of the<br />
way the web site is set up<br />
we cannot send out one e‐<br />
mail to all but, over a period,<br />
will need to contact<br />
them all individually.<br />
TREASURIAL<br />
NEW MEMBERS:<br />
New members are as follows:<br />
Subs received 26<br />
Financial information for<br />
<strong>2005</strong> up to the beginning<br />
of September:‐<br />
Ties sold 7<br />
Profit on March London Lunch £179<br />
Profit on 2 Golf Tournaments £50<br />
Bank interest received £161<br />
Net cost of May <strong>2005</strong> <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> £639<br />
Balance at Bank (6/9/05) £5522<br />
As you can see our financial situation is very<br />
satisfactory and our activities are continuing<br />
to show a surplus. We will shortly be bearing<br />
the cost of the <strong>November</strong> edition of <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong> which is likely to be in the region of<br />
£700. The Committee feel that our financial<br />
position is now on a very stable footing.<br />
Good health to all our readers.<br />
Chris Found (1951-59)<br />
Treasurer<br />
MEMBERSHIP SECRETARIAL<br />
In the last 6 months membership has increased<br />
by a net 7 to 675. This is certainly a<br />
step in the right direction. Additionally, we<br />
have discovered a number of old boys, registered<br />
on the Friends Reunited web site, who<br />
Fred Clifford<br />
Jack Milroy (1951‐55)<br />
Harold Wainwright (1944‐49)<br />
June Blakemore (Headmaster’s Secretary)<br />
David Sefton (1953‐57)<br />
Peter Adams (1952‐58)<br />
Marcus Woodhouse (1953‐56)<br />
Michael Walmsley (1954‐58)<br />
John Barran (1937‐40)<br />
Robert Walmsley (1957‐ 62)<br />
DEATHS:<br />
Sadly, I have also been informed of the following<br />
deaths:<br />
Stanley Halliday<br />
Paul Malton<br />
Albert Stanley Robson<br />
Kenneth Snowden<br />
Graham Topp<br />
David Wheeldon<br />
William George Whiting<br />
John Jameson (non member)<br />
Pat Mennem (non member)<br />
Ken Mollekin (non member)<br />
Dick Stockdale (non member)<br />
Obituaries on some of the above appear in<br />
this issue but if anyone can provide one for<br />
any others please let us have these.<br />
MISSING MEMBERS:<br />
If any member knows the whereabouts of any<br />
of the following, please contact Colin Hurd.<br />
Trevor E Almack SCARBOROUGH<br />
Richard Blower LONDON<br />
David Booth READING
Dr Brian Cartwright KEIGHLEY<br />
HW Cassel CANADA<br />
Henry J Cundall HALESWORTH<br />
Anthony Dewdney SCARBOROUGH<br />
Christopher Garner COLLEGE TOWN<br />
John Graves SCARBOROUGH<br />
Philip Harding WATFORD<br />
David Hepworth GRANTHAM<br />
PA Hodgson SCARBOROUGH<br />
David Horsley SCARBOROUGH<br />
Peter Johnson SCARBOROUGH<br />
Albert R Lester SCARBOROUGH<br />
BP Jones LONDON<br />
Graham Middleditch SCARBOROUGH<br />
John S Nockels SCARBOROUGH<br />
Keith Poskitt SCARBOROUGH<br />
Brian Poole SCARBOROUGH<br />
CL Prust UNKNOWN<br />
Nigel Robinson KINGSTON‐on‐THAMES<br />
Adrian Scales SCARBOROUGH<br />
Col. JB Wilkinson LEYBURN<br />
GR Wilson BIRMINGHAM<br />
Martin Woolley HALIFAX<br />
MEMBERS TRACED:<br />
The following missing members have now<br />
been traced:<br />
Stephen Glaves<br />
Andrew Claughton<br />
Alan Dawson<br />
David Eade<br />
Geoffrey Mitchell<br />
Peter Waggitt<br />
Mick Walmsley joined and immediately knew<br />
the whereabouts of Stephen Glaves. Arthur<br />
Nockels who lives in Winchester traced Geoffrey<br />
Mitchell to a nursing home in Tadcaster.<br />
Colin Hurd (1952-58)<br />
Membership Secretary<br />
7<br />
SPORTING EVENTS<br />
<strong>2005</strong> GOLF<br />
TA SMITH GOLF<br />
COMPETITION<br />
The second Golf Competition<br />
of <strong>2005</strong> was held<br />
on Thursday 21 st July<br />
and again we were<br />
blessed with perfect<br />
weather and everybody<br />
was very impressed with<br />
the excellent condition of<br />
the course at North Cliff<br />
Golf Club. The day started with fairly cloudy<br />
conditions and a cool breeze and the latter<br />
prevailed all day which was fortunate for the<br />
players as the sun became stronger throughout<br />
the day. Eighteen members took part in<br />
the competition and nineteen of us sat down<br />
in the Clubhouse to an excellent meal in the<br />
evening prepared by chef Gary Dunn. It was<br />
a pleasure to see Dick Hartley and his wife<br />
Ruth up from Hampshire and also Geoff Lee<br />
from Cheadle. The prizes for the two competitions<br />
were presented by our President Peter<br />
Robson and the result of the day’s Stableford<br />
Competition was as follows:‐<br />
Points<br />
Winner ‐ Geoff Winn (South Cliff) 40<br />
Second ‐ John Brinkler (South Cliff) 39<br />
Third ‐ Paul Gridley (Ganton) 39<br />
Fourth ‐ Dave Burnley (North Cliff) 39<br />
As three players came in with the same score<br />
the final placings were based on the result of<br />
the second nine holes.<br />
One or two of our out of town regulars did<br />
not enter this year and I hope that they will<br />
re‐enter the fray next year.<br />
DR MEADLEY STROKEPLAY<br />
CUP<br />
The above event was played in perfect conditions<br />
at North Cliff Golf Club, Scarborough<br />
on Thursday 23 rd June <strong>2005</strong>. There were 16<br />
entrants but, for a variety of reasons includ‐
8<br />
ing my own dislocated thumb, only 12 people<br />
played on the day.<br />
John Brinkler had the misfortune to play the<br />
wrong ball on one of the greens and, as a<br />
result of having to add appropriate penalty<br />
shots to his score, he surrendered a winning<br />
result and had to share the lowest score of 71<br />
with Duncan McGregor. Duncan is awarded<br />
the trophy on the strength of a better second<br />
half result.<br />
Congratulations to Duncan and John for some<br />
fine competitive golf and also to Geoff Winn<br />
for coming third with a 73.<br />
Chris Found (1951-59)<br />
Golf Secretary<br />
OLD SCARBORIANS WEB<br />
SITE REPORT<br />
Apart from sending out<br />
a website bulletin, I have<br />
done no work on the<br />
website since the last<br />
issue of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>.<br />
Most of my time has<br />
been occupied with my<br />
duties as President of<br />
the Humanist Association<br />
of the Greater Sacramento Area and with<br />
the final throes of completing my book ‐<br />
Bushopedia.<br />
David Fowler has suggested that the apparent<br />
incompetence of the Bush administration with<br />
respect to preparing for and responding to<br />
Hurricane Katrina has given me fodder for a<br />
couple of additional chapters. As itʹs an alphabetical<br />
guide, it doesnʹt have chapters, but Iʹve<br />
certainly found reason for some additional<br />
entries, in addition to further material for<br />
some of the existing entries. Bushʹs escalation<br />
of John G. Robertsʹ nomination to the Supreme<br />
Court from Associate Justice to Chief<br />
Justice (owing to Chief Justice William<br />
Rehnquistʹs recent death) will also lead to<br />
some additional words. I think the book will<br />
now be around 300 pages.<br />
I do really seem to be within a couple of<br />
weeks of completion. Iʹve said this before and<br />
canʹt help thinking of William Brownʹs older<br />
brother Robert (of Richmal Cromptonʹs Just<br />
William, which many of us heard serialised<br />
on BBC radio), with his oft‐repeated refrain to<br />
his mother regarding his latest girlfriend:<br />
“This time itʹs the real thing.” In the case of<br />
Bushopedia, I think it may finally be the real<br />
thing. Look for it on Amazon.com (or Amazon.co.uk)<br />
in mid‐to‐late October.<br />
Bill Potts (1946-55)<br />
Webmaster<br />
FROM HERE AND THERE<br />
Anne Mann wrote<br />
John is in hospital having ruptured a tendon<br />
in his leg. He expects to be home soon.<br />
John Mann writes from<br />
Shropshire (1950-56)<br />
Just to let you know that I<br />
am home at last, in a cast<br />
that means that I am hopping<br />
around on one leg for<br />
the next 10 days. After that,<br />
a surgical boot for up to 8<br />
weeks, which takes me well<br />
into July.<br />
Looks highly unlikely that I shall be boating,<br />
hiking or swimming until then. The bowling<br />
season has gone by the board; it is unlikely<br />
that I will be able to reclaim my place in the<br />
team this season.<br />
Fortunately we have a man who is happy to<br />
mow the lawns, etc but the veggie garden will<br />
have a year off pretty much unless I can persuade<br />
Anne to do it.<br />
Editor: As we prepare this issue, John has<br />
had yet another operation to deal with an
infection which arose at the site of the<br />
original wound.<br />
Don Elliott writes from<br />
Sheffield (1951-53)<br />
I moved to Scarborough in March 1950 from<br />
Manchester, then had one term at Northstead<br />
Primary. I was sent to boarding school<br />
from 1953 ‐58. I enjoyed my two years at<br />
SBHS but missed the soccer. I still have close<br />
contact with Chris Found,<br />
Ray Kidd writes from York<br />
(1944-49)<br />
Many thanks indeed for your coverage of the<br />
book in <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>. I hope that this will<br />
not only be of interest to your readers, but<br />
may also generate more responses about<br />
cadet times past. ATC matters do seem to<br />
appear now and again, which indicates to<br />
me that there are still considerable numbers<br />
of us around.<br />
I donʹt know if you saw the article, but the<br />
Evening Press gave the book a mention and<br />
used the same photo. That in itself drew a<br />
response from former cadets or family members<br />
and I have already had a call from Eric<br />
Dixon as soon as he received his <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong>, not so much in connection with the<br />
book, rather just to be in touch again, which<br />
was very nice indeed.<br />
Turning to people, I went to see Les Hartzig<br />
a couple of weeks ago and he seemed to be<br />
very comfortable and well cared for in his<br />
new abode. I shall be seeing Eric Barker next<br />
week and will see if I can twist his arm to<br />
join the Association.<br />
I was pleased to see that you have found a<br />
deputy David, for I know how demanding<br />
such tasks as yours can be. Notwithstanding<br />
that, I am sure that we shall all be very sorry<br />
when you do stand down ‐ you will be able<br />
to bask in the sunshine of a job well done!!<br />
Editor: Extracts from Ray’s book appear on<br />
page 52<br />
9<br />
David James Hansom writes<br />
from Beverley (1960-66)<br />
I joined the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> many years ago<br />
but have not had any recent contact. I am<br />
currently semi‐retired but continue to teach<br />
Law to sixth form students in Beverley. I<br />
started teaching History in 1970 at Longcroft<br />
School, married Penny, a colleague in the<br />
school in 1974 and we have two daughters in<br />
their early 20s.<br />
Adrian Casey writes from<br />
Surbiton (1951-59)<br />
I have just returned home from hospital. It<br />
took until yesterday for the histology results<br />
to come back, showing that the cyst is not<br />
cancerous. What a relief after two weeks of<br />
worrying! It has not yet been decided<br />
whether I should have surgery to remove the<br />
cyst or ‘leave well alone’; I have to go back<br />
as an outpatient in about a month to see my<br />
consultant and the surgical team consultant.<br />
The cause of the cyst is not known for certain,<br />
but itʹs strictly no booze for me from<br />
now on.<br />
All the nurses were marvellous, kind and<br />
caring. I have promised to thank my special<br />
favourites with a little party!<br />
From my CV, it was probably expected that I<br />
would volunteer to follow on as the editor of<br />
<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>. I would enjoy the post —<br />
though I wonder how the committee would<br />
react to my policy of ʹsailing too close to the<br />
windʹ. But the problem has always been my<br />
health, so I must decline.<br />
Once, the editorial board of IMMIGRATION<br />
STAFF BULLETIN ‐ of which I used to be one<br />
of three — met to be faced with 7 blank<br />
pages and so we sat down and wrote the rest<br />
ourselves. I produced 4 pages of bogus<br />
Letters to the editor from fellow Immigration<br />
Officers at distant ports. Inevitably,<br />
when their letters appeared the ʹauthorsʹ<br />
complained, whereupon we sent them photo<br />
copies of their (carefully forged) originals
earing their genuine (photocopied) signatures.<br />
Re the latest ST, I sent you the marked‐up<br />
post proof‐reading copy. But points I marked<br />
are still in the copy that I received. What happened?<br />
**<br />
There must be dozens of other <strong>Old</strong> Scabs in<br />
the Scarborough area who could take over.<br />
What about some of those <strong>Old</strong> Boys who went<br />
to Woodlands?<br />
Harking back to our Sixth Form days, John<br />
Forster suggested that the whole of M6B<br />
should go along together to the Mass Chest X‐<br />
ray; then when the results came back, mine<br />
read ʹNo significant abnormalities except only<br />
one lung’ .<br />
** Editor: Sorry about the proof reading<br />
Adrian. I was working to a very tight time<br />
schedule. A copy of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> proof<br />
read by others, had been sent to the printer.<br />
As soon as your copy was received another<br />
version was sent. Unfortunately he had<br />
started printing the earlier version and I was<br />
away on holiday so this was not noticed<br />
until too late.<br />
Ray Bloom writes from Cairo<br />
(1953-59)<br />
Iʹll call you when Iʹm<br />
more certain of my UK<br />
schedule. I have some<br />
colleagues out here<br />
who last taught in the<br />
UK at Norton School,<br />
Malton, so I am planning<br />
to meet up with<br />
them in North Yorkshire<br />
during the summer.<br />
I also have some good friends in Ilkley<br />
and Pateley Bridge, so my northern tour<br />
schedule is already taking shape. Should be<br />
able to fit in some golf at Scarborough.<br />
At Christmas, Iʹm provisionally planning to<br />
be in Jakarta for Christmas week, then a week<br />
in Thailand on my way back to Cairo, to meet<br />
10<br />
up with Peter, our son, who wants some winter<br />
sun and golf on Cairoʹs courses.<br />
It seems Iʹll be in Indonesia when youʹre in<br />
Egypt. My ex‐wife, Liz, with whom Iʹm still<br />
on good terms, starts a teaching job in Jakarta<br />
in August. She joins some teaching friends<br />
from my Malawi days, so hope to meet up<br />
with them and also see a bit of Indonesia at<br />
the same time.<br />
Cairo has quietened down after the recent<br />
bombings, but weʹve just had a referendum<br />
on the forthcoming ʹfree and fairʹ multi‐party<br />
September elections. Still seems a contradiction<br />
in terms in Egypt.<br />
I read a pro‐government newspaper at my<br />
favourite eatery. It claims there was a massive<br />
turnout, with Hosni Mubarak receiving<br />
massive support. When the media resorts to<br />
exuberant praise of the government it gets<br />
very flowery with its reporting. A recent<br />
report criticising anti‐government supporters<br />
said ʹIt is, nevertheless, astonishing that these<br />
wayward members of society appear to be<br />
parroting rhetoric propagated by foreign<br />
powers desperately seeking to steer the world<br />
whimsicallyʹ. I couldnʹt help smiling.<br />
I am looking forward to seeing the next <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong>.<br />
(Stephen) Marcus<br />
Woodhouse writes from<br />
Wolverhampton (1953-56)<br />
At the time I was at SBHS I was known as<br />
Stephen Marcus Woodhouse but have since<br />
dropped the Stephen and returned to Marcus<br />
in accordance with my birth certificate.<br />
My wife and I will be visiting Scarborough<br />
with my sister (Ann Marie Woodhouse) who<br />
attended Scarborough High School for Girls<br />
in the same years. After that we went to live<br />
in Rhodesia (Zimbabwe).
John Hall writes from Notre-<br />
Dame de Cenilly (1949-57)<br />
Hereʹs a recent picture of Mike OʹNeil and<br />
myself on the beach at Villerville on Easter<br />
Sunday with his wife and my daughter and<br />
family. This one was taken by my wife using<br />
OʹNeilʹs new digicamera (a retirement<br />
prezzy).<br />
(Editor: A cropped version of the photograph<br />
appears on the following page)<br />
Don Pickett writes from<br />
Scarborough (1934-49)<br />
I enclose a snap of Frank Clarke, (Bon) whom<br />
we visited regularly during his long retirement.<br />
This was taken at his home at Cartmel,<br />
Cumbria near the Lake District when he was<br />
84/85 years old.<br />
He was little changed in looks.<br />
He was utterly charming on all our visits, and<br />
most hospitable, as was his wife.<br />
Bon died aged 90.<br />
(Don’s photo appears on the next page)<br />
Harold Wainwright writes<br />
from Elvaston, Derby<br />
(1944-49)<br />
I attach a copy of a photograph from my<br />
schooldays. The inscription on the back reads,<br />
‘Form championship Cup SBHS September<br />
1945. The picture was taken at the school<br />
playing fields on Olivers Mount.<br />
The little boy in the middle was me at twelve<br />
years, nine months old. The boy in the middle<br />
of the front row was John Burden and the boy<br />
to my left was, I think, Alec James. I cannot<br />
remember any of the other names but perhaps<br />
other members might be able to.<br />
During my school days I lived first in a flat at<br />
28 Falsgrave Road where my father was manager<br />
of the Scarborough Relay Services Limited.<br />
We later moved to 38 St John’s Road. I<br />
left Scarborough for good in 1953 after the<br />
death of my father. After leaving school in<br />
11<br />
early 1949 I worked for the Relay Services for<br />
a few months then joined the North Riding<br />
Constabulary at Scarborough as a police cadet.<br />
I did three years in the RAF from April<br />
1951 and then joined British Rail in 1954. I<br />
retired in 1993. My sister was a boarder for a<br />
time at the Convent of the Ladies of Mary in<br />
St Thomas Street.<br />
(Harold’s photo appears on the next page)<br />
Gareth Thomas writes from<br />
Scarborough (1944-53<br />
I returned this morning from visiting my<br />
daughter Rebecca and her husband who have<br />
both recently taken up three‐year appointments<br />
in New Zealand. Their next door<br />
neighbour is Fred Clifford (see photo) who<br />
left school in 1951, took an engineering apprenticeship<br />
with Premier Engineering Company<br />
in St. Thomas Street owned by my old<br />
boss, Joe Hardcastle, and later joined the Merchant<br />
Navy sailing with the New Zealand<br />
Union Line and settling there.<br />
He was in the Scarborough Sea Cadets with<br />
<strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Eddie Baines, Clive Leigh<br />
and David Stonehouse and would welcome<br />
any contact and news from them.<br />
I have enrolled him as a member of the OSA<br />
with Colin. His address is 59a Milford Road,<br />
North Shore, Auckland 1300, New Zealand.
12<br />
LEFT<br />
Left to right<br />
Mike O’Neil,<br />
Harry, and John<br />
Hall<br />
BOTTOM LEFT<br />
Left to right:<br />
Frank Clarke, Mrs<br />
Clarke and Don<br />
Pickett<br />
BOTTOM RIGHT:<br />
Centre: Harold<br />
Wainwright, on his<br />
left, Alec James,<br />
centre front row,<br />
John Burden.
David Shannon writes from<br />
Richmond, Yorkshire<br />
(1949-57)<br />
Very many thanks for your letter and the<br />
copy of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> which I enjoyed immensely.<br />
I enclose the completed membership<br />
application and my cheque valued to<br />
include the cost of ‘the tie’, an item of apparel<br />
rarely worn by me these days, and the<br />
<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> CD.<br />
My email address is<br />
dshannon@ btinternet. com<br />
I was delighted to learn that John Corradine<br />
was in touch. In the early days he and I were<br />
good friends and many years ago I tried,<br />
unsuccessfully, to contact him again so it<br />
would be very good to renew acquaintances.<br />
Likewise I was so pleased to discover that<br />
Gerald Hinchliffe was still chipper. I admired<br />
him greatly when I was a boy—<br />
though I doubt very much whether he held<br />
me in similar regard! The website picture of<br />
the 1955 teaching staff was a marvellous jolt<br />
for the memory. They all appear so young—<br />
quite different from how they are recorded<br />
in my recollections of them! We were extraordinarily<br />
lucky to be taught by men of<br />
such individuality, dedication and talent.<br />
I would like to attend the Christmas Dinner<br />
but we are in the process of selling our<br />
home, of the last 31 years, in the inevitable<br />
process of down‐sizing and until we have<br />
resolved that thorny problem I feel I must<br />
keep my diary clear. We are faced with the<br />
usual problem ‐ four potential buyers but all<br />
caught up in chains. What we need is some<br />
young executive with a wealthy company<br />
behind him!<br />
Anyway, that is probably enough chatter for<br />
now. I hope we can stay in touch more efficiently<br />
in future. Combe Hay garden parties<br />
are rather hard work!<br />
Editor: David’s reference in his final paragraph<br />
is to the George Edward Smart<br />
Homes, in Stepney Drive, Scarborough. It<br />
13<br />
comprises two residential homes for the<br />
elderly, one called Combe Hay. Earlier this<br />
year the Homes held their annual garden<br />
fete and I spotted a face I had not seen for<br />
fifty years. It was David Shannon who was<br />
easily recognisable after all those years. He<br />
was visiting his mother who is a resident,<br />
whilst I was there as a trustee of the charity.<br />
We reminisced, we got in touch later,<br />
and David became a member not having<br />
realised that the OSA was still thriving.<br />
Peter Whitehead writes<br />
from Otley (1963-71)<br />
I am interested in contacting people who<br />
may know me from my time at School. I was<br />
there between 1962 and 1969. I played first<br />
XI cricket and first XV Rugby and would<br />
very much like to hear from anyone who<br />
remembers me.<br />
I understand from Colin Hurd that my request<br />
could be included in the next edition<br />
of the magazine. My e‐mail address is<br />
peterwhitehead27@yahoo.co.uk<br />
BARRY BEANLAND<br />
COLLECTS HONOUR<br />
Scarborough RUFC stalwart<br />
Barry Beanland (1950‐56) has been awarded<br />
honorary life membership of the club.<br />
The former captain, president and<br />
secretary has collected the honour<br />
following 44 years service to the club.<br />
OSA member Barry, who made over 450<br />
appearances for the first team, has<br />
also been heavily involved in the<br />
youth set‐up over the years, aiding<br />
the progress through the ranks of a<br />
number of the club’s top players.<br />
Two players he coached were Jeff<br />
Dawson, who captained Yorkshire<br />
and represented the North‐east and<br />
the Barbarians, and former England
Schools captain Keith Poskitt.<br />
Barry said: “To be recognised in<br />
this way is a pleasant surprise.<br />
“I started playing in 1961 and I have had a<br />
great time during my years at the club. I have<br />
really enjoyed it.”<br />
Above: Barry Beanland, left, receives his<br />
honorary life membership from club president<br />
and OSA member Colin Rennard.<br />
FREE-<br />
DOM<br />
HON-<br />
OUR<br />
FOR<br />
JOUR-<br />
NALIST<br />
OSA member<br />
and former<br />
Osgodby man<br />
Michael Wilson has been honoured with the<br />
freedom ot the City of London at a ceremony<br />
at the Guildhall, London, where in March this<br />
year he was presented with a Business Broadcast<br />
journalist of the year award.<br />
Michael Wilson, who attended Scarborough<br />
High School for Boys and graduated from<br />
King’s College, London, reports daily from<br />
14<br />
the London Stock Exchange as business editor<br />
for Sky News.<br />
PETER TAYLOR<br />
TACKLES<br />
AL QAEDA<br />
OSA member and Northern<br />
Ireland terrorism expert<br />
Peter Taylor turned<br />
his attention recently, in<br />
The New Al Qaeda, to the Islamic terrorism<br />
that has lately so tragically disrupted the lives<br />
of Londoners.<br />
In the first of three programmes ‐— this one<br />
was called Jihad.com ‐ he explained how Al<br />
Qaeda has latched onto the Internet as a<br />
weapon, using the web to communicate between<br />
its cells, distribute videos of its murderous<br />
attacks,. mobilise support among young<br />
Muslims and raise funds.<br />
Taylor’s interview with Saudi dissident, Mohammed<br />
al Massari, living apparently untouchable<br />
in London, whose website spreads<br />
gruesome pictures of beheadings in Iraq and<br />
training manuals on terrorism, was chilling.<br />
If you thought Taylor was exaggerating, al<br />
Massari’s own assessment is that what Al<br />
Qaeda has managed in a year with its exploitation<br />
of the Internet, would take 50 years<br />
without it. And no one knows how to stop it.<br />
OBITUARIES<br />
Albert Stanley Robson<br />
By Tony Robson<br />
I regret to report (rather belatedly) the death<br />
of Stan Robson who died after a short illness<br />
in Scarborough Hospital in December last<br />
year.<br />
Stan was not what you would describe as an<br />
active ʹold boyʹ, only joining the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong><br />
the year before he died but that was no<br />
reflection on his love for either Scarborough<br />
or his ʹAlma Materʹ, but a result of his belong‐
ing to a generation that did not draw attention<br />
to themselves, and a result of wartime<br />
experience where, as he repeatedly told me,<br />
you learnt the hard way not to volunteer for,<br />
or join, anything!<br />
After leaving the school Stan went to Gateshead<br />
where he trained as a draughtsman<br />
until he was accepted into the Royal Engineers,<br />
having failed a medical to join the<br />
Marines. He saw service in North Africa before<br />
invading the Channel Islands only to<br />
find the enemy had abandoned them!<br />
After demobilisation he joined the mass of<br />
men looking for secure employment and<br />
joined the Scarborough Ambulance Service<br />
where he served until his retirement in 1986<br />
when he was Station Officer. It was a constant<br />
source of surprise to me that a man<br />
who was such a private individual was so<br />
well known and liked in the town and surrounding<br />
area. More than once in his latter<br />
years he was invited to the wedding of someone<br />
he had delivered when he had not been<br />
able to get them to hospital in time 20 plus<br />
years earlier.<br />
He always managed to deal with everything<br />
the job threw at him, once memorably telling<br />
me, whilst I was being particularly precious<br />
about my own career, that I knew nothing<br />
about pressure. Pressure was having one<br />
ambulance available with two 999 calls on the<br />
switchboard!<br />
As is the case with far too many father/son<br />
relationships I only learned to really appreciate<br />
him after I left home but we enjoyed a lot<br />
of good times together and I know he particularly<br />
enjoyed going to New York (first<br />
class!) on his 65th birthday<br />
I don’t find writing this much easier than I<br />
did speaking at his funeral and I know he is<br />
missed by all who knew him.<br />
Stan is survived by Jean, his wife of 50 years,<br />
my sister Jayne, both of whom still live in<br />
Scarborough as well as myself.<br />
15<br />
Ronald Edward Bird<br />
(1945-50)<br />
By Marjorie Bird<br />
My husband died on June 18th <strong>2005</strong>.<br />
Ron moved to Scarborough in 1945 and really<br />
enjoyed his time at Scarborough High School<br />
for Boys.<br />
Ron always said his education there stood<br />
him in good stead for his life in The Fleet Air<br />
Arm and also his time in the Civil Service as a<br />
Lecturer.<br />
Sadly, Ron had Alzheimerʹs for a number of<br />
years but colon cancer was the cause of death,<br />
after only 6 weeks.<br />
I wish good health to everyone in the future.<br />
Douglas Topp<br />
By Arthur Nockels (1933-<br />
40)(with collaboration of<br />
Mrs Ann Topp)<br />
Douglas Topp died in February <strong>2005</strong>. He had<br />
lived in Winchester. He was a loyal and active<br />
member of the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>’ Association.<br />
For many years he regularly attended<br />
the London Dinner and (more recently)<br />
Lunch, the much lamented Midland Dinner<br />
and the Scarborough Dinner. He was one of<br />
my closest friends for seventy years. We used<br />
to meet three or four time a year sometimes<br />
in Oxfordshire, sometimes in Hampshire.<br />
Douglas entered the High School from Leeds<br />
in 1933 or 1934 . We first became friendly at<br />
the evening nets at the Scarborough Cricket<br />
Club in 1935. In those days he was known as<br />
Des. Throughout the years of our friendship<br />
he remained a member of the Cricket Club<br />
and never missed the Festival. Whenever we<br />
met we reminisced about the great pre‐war<br />
days when Scarborough had one of the<br />
strongest teams in the Yorkshire Council.<br />
Names which came up frequently were Alan
Richardson, Jack Pearson, Jim Johnson, Jack<br />
Meades, Eric Bowker and (from a slightly<br />
later time) Ted Lester and Bill Foord. Jim Johnson<br />
who taught Geography at SBHS was a<br />
particular friend. They used to meet when<br />
Johnson became a Member of Parliament.<br />
Partly through his friendship with Johnson<br />
Douglas later enjoyed meetings of the 61 Society,<br />
which hosted lively discussions with guest<br />
speakers from business and political life.<br />
We always recalled figures from our High<br />
School days ‐ from Athletics like Basil Stead,<br />
from Swimming like ? Gillett, Peter Allburey<br />
and Geoff Cooke, actors like Brian Razzall,<br />
Gordon Medd, Gordon Fouldes and Gordon<br />
Parker, Rugby players like Tom Walker, Ken<br />
Megginson, Alan Atkinson and Hector Watts.<br />
He had strong personal friendships with other<br />
<strong>Old</strong> Boys notably the late Derek Colville and<br />
Geoff Mitchell. His wife Ann bore all this unfamiliar<br />
retrospection with great patience.<br />
Douglas had an enquiring mind. As a teenager<br />
he enjoyed attending talks at the Rotunda<br />
Museum given by visiting speakers. One such<br />
talk on the Basque region of Spain aroused<br />
what was to become a lifelong interest in<br />
Spain. He was to develop a friendship with the<br />
author Gerald Brenan who wrote on Spanish<br />
culture and political history and spent a good<br />
part of his life in northern Spain.<br />
As a teenager Douglas travelled by train across<br />
Europe with a well worn copy of Pevsner’s<br />
‘Guide to European Architecture’ tucked under<br />
his arm. After leaving the High School one<br />
of Douglas’s first jobs was with WS Rowntree.<br />
He always remembered that one of his colleagues<br />
was Eric Webb. Having a keen interest<br />
in sports he also at this time wrote a regular<br />
column for the local newspaper in<br />
Bromsgrove.<br />
Soon after the outbreak of the Second World<br />
War he joined the Fleet Air Arm as a pilot<br />
along with Peter Allburey and Brian Razzall.<br />
Later postings with the US Navy gave him his<br />
first experience of America. At the end of the<br />
war he was offered a place at Trinity College,<br />
16<br />
Cambridge to read History under GM<br />
Trevelyan, but a family bereavement meant he<br />
had to go directly into the business world.<br />
After being articled to an accountancy firm he<br />
worked for Kalamazoo and was asked to develop<br />
their business overseas and to set up<br />
offices throughout the Mid Western United<br />
States and the West Indies. In the 1960’s he<br />
moved to Hampshire joining the Livestock<br />
Penning Company, Gush and Dent. He attended<br />
all the major agricultural fairs here and<br />
in France. He was well known in farming circles<br />
and was partly responsible for the introduction<br />
of the Charolais Beef breed.<br />
He settled in Winchester where he made<br />
many friends. He was Captain of the Alresford<br />
Golf Club and was actively involved as a nonplaying<br />
member of the Winchester Rugby<br />
Club.<br />
For the last twenty years of his career he developed<br />
a business supplying swimming pools to<br />
individuals and institutions (including schools<br />
and colleges) in many parts of the country and<br />
abroad.<br />
Douglas had a lively mind and many wide and<br />
varied interests. He was a great reader with a<br />
particular interest in books associated with<br />
Yorkshire and the Scarborough area. One of<br />
his favourites was ‘Shipwrecks of the Yorkshire<br />
Coast’.<br />
He was keen on Music, Theatre and the Arts.<br />
He cultivated an acquaintance with Eric<br />
Fenby, the <strong>Old</strong> Scarborian who was the<br />
amanuensis of Delius. He was a regular subscriber<br />
to the ‘Dalesman’. He travelled widely,<br />
taking trouble for instance to identify and visit<br />
the battlefield of Tannenberg from the First<br />
World War (now in Poland).<br />
A Hampshire resident with one foot firmly in<br />
Scarborough, he was a generous and loyal<br />
friend and husband.<br />
Douglas was Acting President of the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>’<br />
Association 1990‐91.
17<br />
Stanley Halliday (1949-55)<br />
Stan died on the 14th May <strong>2005</strong> aged 66. He<br />
was always a proud Yorkshireman – even after<br />
living 40 years in East Anglia.<br />
Stan was much loved and is sadly missed by<br />
his family, his colleagues and fellow <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>.<br />
Dick Stockdale (1953-1959)<br />
Dick Stockdale died in September, aged 63. He<br />
left school early, on his father’s death, and<br />
joined the Stockdale Potato firm at Seamer, run<br />
by a branch of the family. He then moved to a<br />
new branch of the firm in Acomb York, until<br />
that was closed. He later lived in Pickering,<br />
then Malton. In his younger days he was a keen<br />
sportsman and played cricket and football for<br />
Seamer and Ayton teams.<br />
Patrick Mennem<br />
Patrick died peacefully in hospital aged 78. The<br />
funeral was held at The Parish Church of St<br />
John the Baptist at Little Missenden on 22nd<br />
July. He left a widow, Anne, 5 children and 5<br />
grandchilden.<br />
Alan Green recalls Pat was a journalist rising to<br />
become sports editor of a National Daily. He<br />
has lost touch but they met by chance some 50<br />
years later at an OSA London lunch at Mossimans.<br />
George “Eric” Parrey<br />
(1927-34)<br />
By Geoff Nalton (1930-35)<br />
Eric Parrey died on 20th April in Nottingham.<br />
He and his late wife Kathleen Mary had 3 children<br />
and 4 grandchildren. He was a staunch<br />
‘<strong>Old</strong> Scarborian’ and had been an originator of<br />
the original OSA Leicester Dinners.Eric’s parents<br />
kept homes in Nottingham and Scarborough<br />
with the Scarborough home being let out<br />
during the <strong>Summer</strong> months.<br />
Eric therefore spent summers in Scarborough<br />
and winters in Nottingham until at the age of<br />
10 he won a scholarship to Scarborough High<br />
School. These were some of Eric’s happiest<br />
days. He loved school and made life‐long<br />
friends through school and Scouts.<br />
Some of the memories Eric talked about included:<br />
After spending Christmas in Nottingham<br />
one year he was amazed to see a fellow<br />
High School boy waiting for the train back to<br />
Scarborough. He had apparently been staying<br />
with his mother who was appearing at the pantomime<br />
in Nottingham.<br />
Going for swims in the Spa on summer evenings<br />
after it had closed for the day.<br />
Playing hockey on the beach.<br />
At Easter, gathering hot coins, thrown by<br />
schoolmasters, from windows down to the boys<br />
in the playground below.<br />
Camping trips to Scotland and Helmsley with<br />
fellow scouts and Pa Russell. We have photograghs<br />
of these trips taken in 1933.<br />
When Eric left school in 1934 his headmaster,<br />
Mr Marsden, said of him ‘Eric has been a credit<br />
to the school. I have the highest opinion of his<br />
character. He is trustworthy and reliable, a boy<br />
of fine physique and of fine intelligence who<br />
has the makings of a fine young man.’<br />
Family finances would not allow Eric to take a<br />
place at Leeds University and he went to work<br />
at Boots in Nottingham in the laboratories. He<br />
did not like this job very much especially when<br />
grading the coal that Boots used. He often told<br />
how he would have to climb on to coal trucks<br />
and collect specimens of coal to take back to the<br />
lab to test. Eric often visited Scarborough at<br />
weekends and was sometimes asked to turn out<br />
for <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Rugby Club. His diary of<br />
April 16 1938 says ‘played for O.S on Oliver’s<br />
Mount against Hull Brunswick Avenue. O.B’s.<br />
Spencer played a good game, as did Nalton.<br />
The latter has a good swerve and hand off.’<br />
In Oct 1939 he joined the Air Ministry as a meteorological<br />
assistant and began a correspondence<br />
course which would eventually lead to<br />
him obtaining a BSc. Soon after joining the Air<br />
Ministry he joined RAF Bomber command and
was stationed at various bases around the East<br />
of England. On 16 July 1942 Eric and Kathleen<br />
married at St Giles Parish church in West<br />
Bridgeford. They had a brief honeymoon in<br />
the Lake District before Eric had to return to<br />
RAF Leeming. After the war he was posted to<br />
India, returning in February 1947.<br />
On return to England Eric was discharged<br />
from the RAF and returned to the Air Ministry.<br />
But Eric and Kathleen were still unable to<br />
set up home together because he was sent on a<br />
tour of duty to Bahrain in the Persian Gulf. He<br />
was there until 19<strong>48</strong>.<br />
On his return, Eric and Kathleen moved into<br />
their bungalow in Nuthall, Nottingham. This<br />
was to be the only house they ever bought.<br />
During the times he spent in England Eric<br />
was a keen rugby player turning out for Boots<br />
Athletic, <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> and various RAF<br />
teams. After his playing days were over he<br />
was a keen rugby follower, often going to<br />
Twickenham to watch England play. He also<br />
loved watching cricket, being a season ticket<br />
holder at Trent Bridge and occasionally visiting<br />
other grounds to watch Yorkshire. An<br />
annual family event was a trip to Scarborough<br />
to the Scarborough Cricket Festival. Like his<br />
father he was a very keen gardener and his<br />
garden was much admired.<br />
In December 1950 Eric’s eldest son Richard<br />
was born. In 1953 Eric was posted to Iraq for a<br />
2 year tour of duty. He tried to get the posting<br />
deferred as Kathleen was now expecting her<br />
second child. He duly left and John was born<br />
whilst he was in Iraq.<br />
Kathleen and the two children were able to<br />
join Eric in the summer of 1954 where they all<br />
returned together towards the end of 1955<br />
when Eric returned to Nottingham Weather<br />
Centre. In August 1957 daughter Patricia was<br />
born.<br />
Eric had one more overseas posting to Gan in<br />
1962‐3 before again returning to Nottingham<br />
where he became the Senior Officer before<br />
retiring in 1977. During this time he became<br />
18<br />
the ‘weather voice’ of BBC Radio Nottingham<br />
and would occasionally appear on local TV to<br />
explain any freak weather we may have had.<br />
Eric and Kathleen enjoyed retirement to the<br />
full, every day being planned, never a moment<br />
wasted. Keen rugby fans they would follow<br />
Leicester Tigers in the winter whilst spending<br />
many happy days during the summer watching<br />
cricket at Trent Bridge. Eric thoroughly<br />
enjoyed the Leicester and London <strong>Old</strong> Scarborian<br />
reunions and was sad when he could<br />
no longer manage the trips.<br />
In later years there were grandchildren to<br />
enjoy. Paul and Annie in Nottingham and<br />
Lindsey and Elly in Shiplake near Henley on<br />
Thames.<br />
In December 2000 Kathleen died quite suddenly<br />
and this hit Eric very hard.<br />
In recent years Eric had many health problems<br />
particularly with reduced mobility in his legs<br />
being a particular frustration, as his great<br />
loves of walking and gardening were severely<br />
curtailed.<br />
In late 2004 Eric moved into Falcon House<br />
residential home. where he could receive the<br />
assistance that he needed. Eric seemed more at<br />
peace away from the responsibilities of his<br />
home but close enough to his family to enjoy<br />
regular visits from them. He enjoyed reliving<br />
old times and listening to extracts from letters<br />
and diaries that he and Kathleen had kept.<br />
Eric passed away peacefully on 20 April <strong>2005</strong><br />
after a short illness.<br />
Paul Malton (1945-51)<br />
Paul Malton died at home in Willerby, Nr Hull<br />
on 3rd September after a long illness. He was<br />
71.<br />
After leaving school Paul worked for Barclays<br />
Bank, rising from a junior clerk to a Branch<br />
Manager. In his banking days he was always a<br />
sportsman, being keen on hockey and cricket.<br />
He even received the red card for his energetic<br />
hockey manoeuvres!<br />
Paul also played cricket for Sewerby.
On retiring, he became very interested in<br />
wine, initially making it himself but then<br />
moving on to commercially produced, and<br />
particularly French wines.<br />
He was Chairman of Beverley Wine Society<br />
for at least 4 years and with wife Jean he enjoyed<br />
travelling through France searching out<br />
vineyards and tasting the local produce .<br />
He has given a number of wine talks and<br />
tastings to various local societies.<br />
Paul leaves a widow, Jean, two sons Anthony<br />
and Jonathon, and five grandchildren.<br />
Ken Snowden<br />
By Mildred Snowden<br />
We have just learned of the death of Ken<br />
Snowden on 21st June 2001 in Perth, Western<br />
Australia. His widow, Mildred sent the following<br />
obituary.<br />
Ken was born on 4th July, 1942 in England.<br />
He completed his academic studies in Science<br />
at Leeds University. His first position as a<br />
Science Teacher was in Lusaka, Zambia,<br />
where he met Mildred. They married and<br />
later migrated to Perth, W.Australia.<br />
He taught at Scotch College from 1974‐1979<br />
and 1987‐1990. He was appreciated by staff<br />
and students for his high teaching standards,<br />
and was instrumental in establishing the<br />
P.S.A. Chess Competition in schools. He competed<br />
internationally in chess competitions<br />
and was also involved in the Duke of Edinburgh<br />
Award Scheme. His philosophy was “If<br />
you do something, give it your best“.<br />
His interests were many, including stamp<br />
collecting, singing, playing tennis, golf, cricket<br />
and bowls. He was an all rounder, who also<br />
believed in old fashioned values.<br />
Ken and Mildred worked a horse stud in<br />
Mundaring where they bred a few winners.<br />
During this time he took up running and was<br />
a member of the Marathon Club. He never<br />
missed the City to Surf Run, and won trophies<br />
for the Father and Son races.<br />
19<br />
He loved a challenge and was always on the<br />
lookout for interests that would stimulate his<br />
physical and intellectual pursuits. In 1980 Ken<br />
discovered bridge. This became his consuming<br />
passion, especially in the last decade of his<br />
life. Between 1984‐1991 he was a member of<br />
the B.A.W.A Committee, and held various<br />
positions. As Chairman of the Youth Committee<br />
he initiated the PSA Bridge Competition<br />
for Students, which was the forerunner to the<br />
Youth Bridge Team. The W.A. Team did well<br />
and won internationally.<br />
Ken’s life was cut short by the early onset of<br />
Alzheimer’s Disease. As his illness progressed<br />
the West Coast Bridge Club were understanding,<br />
and allowed him to play until he finally<br />
needed 24 hour nursing. Mildred and family<br />
will be eternally grateful to the Management<br />
and Staff of Braemar House, for their care,<br />
love and nurture of him. She says, “May God<br />
bless you all for your dedication”.<br />
He died peacefully on 21st June,2001. Father<br />
of Stephen and the late Lindsay, and Grandfather<br />
of Jeremy he will be sadly missed by<br />
Mildred and family, who hope that all those<br />
who knew Ken will remember him with pride<br />
and affection.<br />
Ken Mollekin<br />
Ken Mollekin, who was responsible for building<br />
hundreds of properties in the Scarborough<br />
area, died in July in Scarborough Hospital,<br />
aged 80.<br />
Besides being involved in the private sector,<br />
Ken also built dozens of houses for Scarborough<br />
Council in the Eastfield, Seamer and<br />
town centre areas of the town<br />
He put up many properties in the Barmoor<br />
Lane part of Scalby, as well as his own home<br />
in North Street, Scalby.<br />
Born in Scarborough, Ken went to the former<br />
High School for Boys and then trained as a<br />
plumber with his father Ernest who was also<br />
a builder.
Ken moved to Leamington Spa for a year, but<br />
returned to Scarborough in 1959 to start his<br />
business off West Parade Road.<br />
Before retiring in 1984 his business was employing<br />
between 20 and 25 people.<br />
Ken was a member of Scarborough Lions<br />
Club and South Cliff Golf Club.<br />
In his younger days he played most sports<br />
and was a competent tennis player.<br />
Ken Mollekin died shortly after suffering a<br />
massive heart attack, which followed two<br />
strokes in recent years.<br />
David Green<br />
Well known farmer David Green, of Burniston,<br />
died aged 81.<br />
David left Scarborough Boys’ High School to<br />
farm at the age of 15 and was managing the<br />
family farm at Cloughton two years later.<br />
He moved to Killerby Grange, Cayton, in 1945<br />
where he farmed for nearly 50 years.<br />
The family had a pedigree Shorthorn dairy<br />
herd at Cloughton and a dairy business there<br />
and in Scarborough, and David continued<br />
with the herd at Killerby Grange.<br />
Through a lifetime of farming he kept cattle,<br />
pigs, sheep and poultry, marketing thousands<br />
of animals through Seamer and other livestock<br />
markets.<br />
He grew all the crops common in North Yorkshire<br />
at Cayton and on land further afield.<br />
David Green was an active member of the<br />
Scarborough branch of the National Farmers<br />
Union, and in the later part of his working life<br />
he farmed in partnership with his elder son<br />
Simon.<br />
During the war he was a member of the<br />
Home Guard.<br />
He was an early participant of water skiing in<br />
Scarborough’s North and South Bays, teaching<br />
many beginners, and he also enjoyed<br />
shooting and salmon fishing.<br />
At the age of 70 he retired from farming and<br />
20<br />
went to live in Burniston where, despite increasing<br />
problems with arthritis, he turned his<br />
green fingers to his garden.<br />
Mr Green leaves a widow Zoe, four children,<br />
grandchildren and great‐ grandchildren.<br />
MEMORIES -<br />
THE SCHOOL AT WAR<br />
Much of the magazine is taken up with members’<br />
memories, and it was suggested that we<br />
include a specific section for memories of The<br />
School at War. Stephen Botterill has provided<br />
the following:<br />
WAR TIME MEMORIES<br />
Stephen Botterill<br />
(1943 -19<strong>48</strong>)<br />
By<br />
Just a few memories from a<br />
country boy, at school midwartime.<br />
I lived at Snainton<br />
and caught the United 128<br />
bus from Pickering, not<br />
arriving at school until midassembly.<br />
It seemed a long<br />
day leaving home before<br />
8:00am. The bus was blacked out for wartime<br />
regulations. My travelling companions were<br />
George Cooper, John Chapman, Matt Pateman<br />
and Vernon Charles. As I read the magazine,<br />
country boys seemed somewhat disadvantaged<br />
by not being able to take part in<br />
many of the after school activities. Our home<br />
bus left at 4:30pm. Plenty of time unless in<br />
detention for any reason, if we missed the 4:30<br />
the next one was 6:45pm !!<br />
Wartime Memories.<br />
Going one dinner time to see the huge crater<br />
near to the old art gallery, where Faulkeners<br />
Flats* had been.<br />
The lone Messerschmitt that machine gunned<br />
Hardwick’s Bus Garage near to where I lived,<br />
one morning at 5:00am, blowing out several<br />
bus windows and shattering the asbestos roof.
The landmine that drifted over our village<br />
on a parachute, only to totally demolish the<br />
house next to Brompton Hall, killing the<br />
occupant and only missing the Hall by 80<br />
yards.<br />
Often our return bus was one of the old Leyland<br />
Titans in drab green, converted to run<br />
on producer gas and towing its own gas<br />
generator behind. One fuelling up with anthracite<br />
hopefully got us home unless it was<br />
blowing a head wind, then more fuel was<br />
needed to get up the hills.<br />
The school dinners left much to be desired.<br />
Living on a farm I was used to second helpings,<br />
something that was missing at school. I<br />
still don’t know what “large lumps and custard”<br />
contained but I was jolly pleased to<br />
polish it off !<br />
If anyone got the first dinner sitting and was<br />
out by 12:25pm it gave us plenty of time to<br />
explore the deserted sea front that was partially<br />
wired to deter any invading enemy. In<br />
the Spring of 1944 the South Sands were<br />
used to practice landings prior to D Day.<br />
Landing craft embarked from the harbour,<br />
out to sea, then full speed onto the south<br />
beach, discharging men, light tanks and<br />
vehicles onto the beach.<br />
We played Soccer until just after the war and<br />
remember our House (Arnold) winning the<br />
Bridgewater cup and it being presented at<br />
Queen Street speech day. But I can’t remember<br />
which year.<br />
*Editor: I did query with Stephen the spelling<br />
of Faulkeners Flats which, he says were<br />
near the present Art Gallery. He is sure this<br />
spelling is correct although Falconer’s Road<br />
is nearby, just in front of the Palm Court<br />
Hotel.<br />
We reminisced about Tesseyman’s Garage<br />
which was where Woolworths now stands<br />
in Vernon Road. He remembered the lane<br />
which led down from York Place to Vernon<br />
Road – which is now a continuation of<br />
Somerset Terrace, and about Brunswick<br />
21<br />
Terrace which led up from the bottom of<br />
the lane to the left and up on which stood<br />
many properties, boarding houses, the Gas<br />
board engineering department and, at the<br />
top, Quartons and later Denys Tuckley<br />
Estate agents.<br />
REMINISCENCES <strong>2005</strong><br />
By Brian Millington (19<strong>48</strong>-55)<br />
My time at the SHBS was<br />
in the years 19<strong>48</strong>‐1955. In<br />
August <strong>2005</strong>, motivated<br />
mainly by a profound<br />
wish to see old school pals<br />
again (who of them would<br />
still be within reach after<br />
so long?), hear the Yorkshire<br />
accents, feel that<br />
spontaneous friendship of the Ridings and<br />
the North in general and, who knows,<br />
maybe have a last look at some of those beloved<br />
views before Father Time makes it all<br />
either very difficult or even impossible, my<br />
wife Agnes and I finally managed to pay a<br />
rare, for me very nostalgic 2‐week visit from<br />
Switzerland back to my beloved Yorkshire<br />
plus a few days in the Lake District.<br />
David Fowler has asked me to put a few<br />
thoughts together for <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> and I am<br />
happy to oblige.<br />
As I went through life, I discovered again<br />
and again that having been a scholar at the<br />
SBHS had been a marvellous preparation for<br />
my later years, and I am thankful to this day<br />
that we were privileged to have such good,<br />
dedicated teachers who taught us to think<br />
and ask questions. Fifty years on, names of<br />
some of my form contemporaries do come<br />
back still, although not exactly in a great<br />
flood these days: Louis Ellenor, Alan Elliott,<br />
David Asquith, Glyn Bower, Neville Clarke,<br />
Gordon Dexter, Cedric Gillings, John<br />
Harker, Tony Haslam, Len Holmes, Stuart<br />
Marriott, Malcolm Peacock, Neil Hunter,<br />
David Shannon, Mike Spencer, David Ste‐
phenson, Harold Ridgway, Jim Maughan,<br />
Terence Vokes…. and so on and forth….. come<br />
to think of it, my memory can’t be so bad after<br />
all! But if I list ‘em all, I’ll have to sit here for a<br />
week thinking ‘em all out and writing; and<br />
then there will be no room in this article for<br />
anything else!<br />
During our visit, I was very pleased to be able<br />
to contact some <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> from my<br />
forms at the SHBS and get four of us, John<br />
Harker, Stuart Marriott, Malcolm Peacock and<br />
myself together for an extended, nostalgic<br />
lunch in York, where we laughed over so<br />
many things from those far‐off days. Tempus<br />
(and memory too, sometimes) is fugitting so<br />
quickly at our age, 50 years on. Below, I have<br />
jotted down just a few of our memories. It<br />
was, for all of us, quite literally a 3‐hour nonstop<br />
marathon exchange of thoughts, recollections<br />
and experiences over many years! Very<br />
enjoyable, even if at our age a little hard on the<br />
concentration as the meal progressed. It was a<br />
great pleasure indeed to visit and have a long<br />
chat too with Len Holmes and his wife at his<br />
home in Harrogate. Len is one of the earliest of<br />
my SBHS classmates and we hadn’t seen each<br />
other for 52 years!<br />
22<br />
going down after school, with Terry Vokes, to<br />
swim several lengths in the otherwise usually<br />
deserted South Bay pool (its sea water was<br />
always a bit on the cool side for the less<br />
hardy!); the memory of a lifeguard being<br />
drowned in the north bay (was his name<br />
‘Chips’ Chapman?); of collecting famous cricketers’<br />
autographs at the then still new, I think<br />
(copied from Hastings?), Cricket Festival in<br />
North Marine Road; of going to the Open Air<br />
Theatre to see shows like ‘Annie Get Your<br />
Gun’; the great spring NE storm one year<br />
(1952?) with a neap tide, when so much heavy<br />
damage was caused to the sea fronts and bungalows<br />
in both bays; an exhibition on the<br />
‘History of Flight’ in a hangar like construction<br />
on the Northway car park opposite the<br />
Odeon; climbing Monkey Island, which was<br />
even then almost totally eroded, in the Scalby<br />
Beck ‘estuary’ (Terry Vokes’ father had in<br />
earlier times played football up there, so big<br />
had it once been); the legend of the curiously<br />
formed ‘Hairy Bob’s Cave’ at the northern end<br />
of the Marine Drive (did a hermit really used<br />
to live in there?)….. I could go on and on, but<br />
David expects about two A4 pages!<br />
Here, also, are some school memories:<br />
Some of my own memories of this and that in<br />
the Scarborough of the ‘Forties and ‘Fifties are<br />
of the daily walk to school with my pals, finishing<br />
homework sometimes along Northway;<br />
of going to Saturday Morning Pictures at the<br />
Odeon, with uniformed commissionaire<br />
‘Hoppy’ Hopkins directing the kids in the<br />
queue with pithy, often dubious remarks or<br />
double entendres; of walking round the Marine<br />
Drive at night in twos or threes in winter,<br />
1947‐<strong>48</strong> or thereabouts, before the street lighting<br />
was restored, and seeing and discussing<br />
the awesome magnificence of the Milky Way<br />
in a sky so clear that you felt you could reach<br />
up and touch the galaxy itself (a view I treasure<br />
to this day); then, also from the Marine<br />
Drive, in the Spring of 1947, after that ever‐socold<br />
winter when the snow lasted until March,<br />
I recall the rare sight of the Northern Lights<br />
(aurora borealis) caused by huge sunspots; of<br />
.. of having a little bottle of free milk at state<br />
expense at the school break, presumably to<br />
give us calcium that would strengthen our<br />
teeth; then going down to the ‘tuck shop’ to<br />
buy something that had the opposite effect<br />
entirely!; of hearing the motor cycle races on<br />
the Oliver’s Mount (by today’s careful standards,<br />
improvised) race track, with Geoff<br />
Duke on, I think, a 4 cylinder 500cc Gilera or<br />
something similar. ‘Infernal combustion engines’,<br />
Bon called them; of hearing the maroon<br />
when the Scarborough lifeboat was called out<br />
to sea; and the dreadful day when it capsized<br />
just off the West Pier on its return, with fatalities<br />
among the crew; of the whole school being<br />
taken to the Odeon to see the ‘Conquest of<br />
Everest’ film; of those agonising gym sessions<br />
(“Git on the wall barrrs!”) under the supervision<br />
of Jock Roxburgh (‘Git in the showerrrs!’);<br />
the school Camera Club with Pete Judson
teaching us how to develop and print our<br />
own films; of some boys breaking into the<br />
school one evening and vandalising the library<br />
corridor by setting off a fire extinguisher;<br />
oh, so many things come back to<br />
mind as I sit here!<br />
Over that lunch in York that I mentioned<br />
earlier, the four of us recalled many other<br />
things in some detail: for instance, there was<br />
‘art class’ with H.S.P. Taylor, which we all<br />
now agreed had been a bit of a farce – right at<br />
the beginning of our First Form year, he explained<br />
briefly what vanishing points and<br />
perspectives were. After that (probably he<br />
had quickly realised our lack of potential as<br />
budding artists!) each time we went for Art,<br />
we would collect our materials, one row of<br />
pupils at a time, and sit down again. When<br />
we were all seated, HSPT as often as not then<br />
left us to our own devices and got on with<br />
some private work, doing what looked suspiciously<br />
like layouts of advertising material for<br />
business clients in town. His daughter became<br />
a danseuse at the Moulin Rouge I believe.<br />
Artistic talent clearly ran in the family.<br />
23<br />
Music master ‘Cozzy’ Costain had the habit<br />
of sitting at the grand piano clipping his nails<br />
whilst waiting for us to settle down, and this<br />
could last quite well into the lesson, or until<br />
Liddicott came across the corridor to remonstrate<br />
that the boys in his chemistry class<br />
couldn’t understand a word he was saying,<br />
look you boyo (come to that, neither could I,<br />
but then, ‘chemmie’ was always my weakest<br />
subject because of my bad memory for those<br />
formulas; nothing to do with Cozzie at all!).<br />
Apart from those lessons where Cozzie explained<br />
syncopation or something, and other<br />
times when he played us pieces (which since<br />
then have been firm favourites of mine!) such<br />
as the Trout Quintet, or Fingal’s Cave, we<br />
seemed to spend the time bawling out ditties<br />
such as ‘Up wi’ the Bonnets o’ Bonnie Dundee’,<br />
and other favourite request tunes from<br />
the audience. Not having an SBHS school<br />
song, we would render our own ribald version<br />
of ‘The Eton Boating Song’ or the Harrow<br />
School Song, complete with posh accents,<br />
whilst Cozzie tinkled away at the keyboard<br />
until the bell went.<br />
In the First Form there was Louis Ellenor’s<br />
swim for a dare in the Black Lagoon‐like<br />
waters of the Valley Pond, which was so<br />
filthy that it was impossible to even guess at<br />
its depth. There was no monster in there, but<br />
there almost certainly was typhus and all<br />
sorts of killer bacteria as a result of generations<br />
of water fowl excreting and probably<br />
even dying in the water, so Joey was understandably<br />
a bit peeved at Louis’ jaunt. When<br />
he heard of the prank the practice was forbidden<br />
forthwith. The pond area had a little hut I<br />
think, or at least there was a park bench; and<br />
some of the more worldly‐wise pupils took to<br />
going down there for a quick puff on a fag at<br />
lunch time (maybe even at break?). In those<br />
days, that was a something rather daring,<br />
certainly not everyday, as it often is nowadays,<br />
for 12‐16 year‐olds. Below that age<br />
smoking was almost unknown at the school<br />
in our days.<br />
Crawling along inside the road‐supporting<br />
composite girders of the Valley Bridge, between<br />
the traffic above and nothing below,<br />
was also something some of us did a few<br />
times, not for a dare, for it was safe enough<br />
on those wide steel joists with steel latticing<br />
enclosing you on both sides, but just to have<br />
done it I suppose. I got filthy doing it once or<br />
twice but it was satisfying to have accomplished<br />
it. Was it a sort of test of approaching<br />
manhood? Those were the days when Everest<br />
was being climbed by Nepalese assisted by<br />
New Zealanders, whom we regarded somehow<br />
as being quite British, and EIIR coronations<br />
were taking place down South; 4‐<br />
minute miles were being run, etc. so I suppose<br />
we felt subconsciously that we too had<br />
to do our bit. I also recall walking along outside<br />
the parapet of Peasholm Bridge a couple<br />
of times. That really WAS dangerous, as there<br />
was nothing at all to prevent a fall. My<br />
mother would (quite justifiably!) have had a
fit if had she ever known. Why did we do<br />
such stupid things?<br />
‘Bushing’ was a most reprehensible practice<br />
at the School. Some new boys even had their<br />
pants pulled off before being thrust through<br />
the gorse bushes by older bully boys and<br />
down on to the lower playground below. I<br />
remember well the day it when was finally<br />
banned for ever when one lunchtime an unfortunate<br />
boy, (whose name I think was John<br />
Hall, one of two brothers) fell through the<br />
bushes on to the asphalt below and broke his<br />
arm. Joey was incandescent (and rightly so)<br />
at next morning’s Assembly. (NB This boy<br />
was not JN Hall, the son of the Gladstone<br />
Road Junior School headmaster, who was in<br />
a higher form. Does anybody know what<br />
happened to JNH?)<br />
A very sad, very personal recollection for me<br />
is of being up at Oliver’s Mount playing field<br />
one day. Our Science 6th form master Cyril<br />
Isherwood trotted out from the changing<br />
shed to ref. at rugby. He was the last one out<br />
and I think he may have arrived late and in a<br />
hurry. As he ran, he suddenly collapsed right<br />
in front of me and didn’t get up again: he<br />
was having a heart attack. There being no<br />
one else anywhere near us (nobody else had<br />
even noticed him go down, even from a distance)<br />
and having no idea of first aid, I had to<br />
leave him lying there and run to fetch another<br />
master who was already reffing on the<br />
top pitch. Unfortunately, it took so long to<br />
get an ambulance organised and get Isherwood<br />
to hospital from Oliver’s Mount (there<br />
was no phone at the changing shed and no<br />
cell phones in those days, so someone had to<br />
sprint all the way down to the farm to get<br />
them to call for help) that the poor fellow had<br />
no chance at all. His popularity was reflected<br />
in the full church for the memorial service at<br />
Christ Church next to the Town Library. One<br />
thing I do remember vividly about him: he<br />
once told us how he had developed some eye<br />
exercises that were so successful that he no<br />
longer needed to wear glasses.<br />
24<br />
Somewhere, sometime, I think the question<br />
arose as to why and how it came about that<br />
Bill Potts senior was nicknamed ’Zenna’.<br />
Well, I do believe that I may modestly claim<br />
to have originally coined the nickname.<br />
Sorry, Bill! The word associations are quite<br />
clear to follow: ‘Zenna’ as in ‘senna’ ; ‘Potts’<br />
as in ‘pods’; and Bill Potts taught ‘physics’.<br />
Question: What are senna pods used for?<br />
Yes, it’s a physic! Why the ‘Z’? Well, Bill<br />
senior often had to tell our class to ‘Shuddup<br />
‘n lizzen’ ; and there seemed to be more than<br />
a trace of ‘z’ in that ‘lizzen’; so the ‘s’ naturally<br />
became ‘z’.<br />
… and here’s a personal memory of Bon<br />
Clarke: Once, on a suffocatingly hot day,<br />
right at the end of summer term, our 5L class<br />
had split for Latin and German. I was in the<br />
Latin group, because someone had told me<br />
when I was 10 years old that if I wanted to go<br />
to Oxford/Cambridge I needed Latin! How<br />
useful that German would have been to me<br />
later on: but my Latin knowledge did help<br />
me to learn German grammar and was a<br />
good philological basis for understanding<br />
other language structures like Spanish; and<br />
also Italian, which I am learning right now,<br />
so it did some good after all. Anyway, where<br />
was I? Ah, yes: Our Latin master had not<br />
arrived, so the usual bedlam broke out. The<br />
heat was overpowering, so I climbed on to<br />
the window sill at the Valley side (it must<br />
have been up on the third floor or something<br />
like that), reached up, and was pulling down<br />
the sash window when I became aware that<br />
it was suddenly deathly quiet in the room.<br />
Why? Well, we were next to Bon’s room and<br />
he had come in to calm the din. ‘What is this<br />
dreadful beer garden atmosphere, bad boys?’<br />
(to me:) ‘What are you doing up there, bad<br />
boy?’. ‘Daft question’, I thought; it must be<br />
obvious.’ But we mere boys did not speak to<br />
the <strong>Old</strong> Man like that and live to tell the tale.<br />
‘I am about to open the window, sir, because<br />
it is so very hot in here. We cannot breathe,<br />
sir.’ ‘Dgh, dgh, dgh, you know very well that<br />
boys are not allowed to stand on the window
sill, bad boy, it is very dangerous, therefore<br />
forbidden. Come into my room.’ So I missed<br />
Latin, got stuck in the German class and had<br />
to write lines for 40 minutes! Gotcher!<br />
John Harker also recalled a Bon episode<br />
where the German group had to do an oral<br />
English translation from some German book,<br />
poetry, or something. David Asquith, John’s<br />
desk neighbour for German, had bought the<br />
English translation and had it secretly on his<br />
knee, unbeknown to Bon, so had no problems<br />
with the ad hoc oral translation. Bon then<br />
asked John to carry on, so John tried to sneak<br />
a look at Dave’s book. Unfortunately for him,<br />
Dave snapped it shut and left him to his fate!<br />
‘Dgh, dgh, dgh!’<br />
Once, the story goes, after German class, the<br />
whole group was going back upstairs together<br />
when Tony Haslam said, about Bon,<br />
who had given him a telling off, ‘Silly old<br />
b*****!’ not realising that Bon was right on his<br />
heels. ‘Who’s a silly old b*****?’ asked Bon<br />
quietly, right into his ear, whereupon Tony,<br />
shaken out of his skin, and after coming back<br />
down into the latter, replied with that good<br />
old schoolboy standby answer, ’Er, nobody,<br />
sir.’ And Bon replied with that good old Bon<br />
riposte, ‘Come to my room, bad boy!’ .<br />
Gotcher again!<br />
Eddie Colenutt also had his stock question/answer<br />
combination: he would ask a<br />
boy, ‘Do yew dew that at ‘ome?’ If the pupil<br />
replied, ‘Yes, sir!’ then Eddie would reply,<br />
‘Well, yew don’t do it ‘ere!’ … and if the boy<br />
said no, Eddie would say, according to the<br />
context, either ‘Well, we don’t do it ‘ere<br />
oither’ or ‘Well, we do it ‘ere!’ . Gotcher a<br />
third time.<br />
Those guys were professionals in every sense<br />
of the word! They always gotcher! Either they<br />
were right or you were wrong! But we accepted<br />
that good‐naturedly as quite normal!<br />
25<br />
Preparing for school camp one year, someone<br />
looking for the tents, which we took with us<br />
in those days, discovered a whole lot of retired<br />
shove‐halfpenny boards in the school<br />
attic. These had at some time in the distant<br />
past been forbidden and forgotten about, but<br />
were nevertheless immediately put back into<br />
use until the excitement and the fervour began<br />
to detract from school work and once<br />
again Joey banned playing of the game, at<br />
least in school time; although one could stay<br />
behind, it was reasoned by us, without breaking<br />
any rules, and play to one’s heart’s content<br />
until kicked out by Mr Johnson the janitor.<br />
But even that was finally kyboshed by the<br />
Higher Powers as forbidden gambling.<br />
Stuart Marriott reminded us of the day in our<br />
final year in 5L when the ‘O’ level results had<br />
come through and Joey came into Les<br />
Brown’s French class, where we were all<br />
repeating, for the umpteenth, but oh‐ever‐souseful<br />
time, ‘Un bon vin blanc’, ‘Une belle<br />
pelle’, ‘A E I O U’ etc. The Headmaster was<br />
beaming like a Cheshire cat and said to us all,<br />
in his unmistakeable Lancashire (or was it<br />
Cheshire?) accent, “Ah joost thort yerd orl<br />
like ter know that fort first time ever we’ve<br />
‘ad a 100 percent pass in French. Congratulations<br />
to all of yer!¨ What a fine reflection on<br />
and acknowledgement of, Les Brown’s teaching!<br />
Thanks, Les!<br />
A few personal jottings: When I was trying to<br />
decide which direction of study to follow,<br />
Joey Marsden was of the opinion that I<br />
should take modern languages and try for an<br />
academic career. In those days, the idea was<br />
that everybody ought to go for an academic<br />
career, because in engineering you had to<br />
think and even got your hands dirty; but<br />
languages HAD always been, as it happened,<br />
my best subjects, so perhaps I should have<br />
listened to him. But I turned stubborn, followed<br />
my own inner voice, learned machine<br />
drawing under the tuition of AJ Perry (which<br />
proved very useful indeed!) and went off in<br />
1955 to do a most enjoyable apprenticeship<br />
in aeronautical engineering at Vickers‐<br />
Armstrongs in Weybridge, Surrey. Those five<br />
years were the final break with Scarborough,
a time finally to start growing up and away<br />
from childhood and school. From Vickers,<br />
now equipped with a Higher National Certificate<br />
in Mechanical Engineering, I moved into<br />
contract design of special purpose machinery<br />
(including some servicing gear for atomic<br />
power stations, of which the whole team,<br />
including our chief engineer, unfortunately<br />
seemed to have little knowledge at all; including<br />
radiation dangers and all that guff!), before<br />
emigrating in 1964 to Switzerland.<br />
My intention was to spend two years in the<br />
country to learn German, PM Ted Heath being<br />
about to take GB into the Common Market,<br />
as the young EU was then called. However,<br />
having met this wonderful Swiss girl<br />
called Agnes, very shortly after my arrival, I<br />
stayed on much longer than the two years<br />
that I had intended. In fact, I simply never<br />
returned at all to live again in England, as<br />
Agnes and I married, had two children, a girl<br />
and a boy, and I settled down with my family<br />
in Switzerland. Today I have dual Yorkshire/Swiss<br />
nationality.<br />
Working in the German‐speaking part of<br />
Switzerland, one has to learn not only German<br />
but the local Swiss‐German dialect as a<br />
working language. The latter is difficult, as<br />
there is no written version and pronunciation<br />
and vocabulary can vary almost from village<br />
to village! (Imagine, say, an emigrant to the<br />
UK having to learn both Received English and<br />
its grammar and Geordie or Glaswegian; and<br />
seeing/hearing little or no relationship between<br />
the two language forms!) Presumably<br />
because of my subliminal Yorkshire linguistic<br />
background, today I apparently speak Swiss<br />
dialect in such a way that everyone asks me if<br />
I am Dutch!<br />
My career soon took me into what was then<br />
called Electronic Data Processing, which years<br />
later became Information Technology. There<br />
followed many enjoyable years in progressively<br />
satisfying lines of computer work as<br />
programmer, system programmer, analyst,<br />
department supervisor, organiser, software<br />
developer, user support team member, etc. for<br />
26<br />
companies as varied as 3M, British Leyland<br />
(Switzerland), one of the big Swiss insurance<br />
companies, and, finally, Siemens. I finally<br />
took the wise decision of early retirement in<br />
2000 and am enjoying life to the full. Since<br />
retirement we live in Weggis, by Lake Lucerne,<br />
at the foot of Mount Rigi, about 10 km<br />
east of the city of Lucerne. There are only<br />
very occasional twitches of regret at not having<br />
gone down the academic road; I have<br />
enjoyed almost every minute of my working<br />
and private lives.<br />
Our family did manage the occasional return<br />
visit to the UK, but it always seemed to rain<br />
when we came over, even in summer; so in<br />
despair and in deference to the kids’ wishes,<br />
we finally gave up trying our luck and started<br />
to take off southeast and southwest to the<br />
Adriatic or to Spain, respectively, for the sunshine.<br />
Nevertheless, I did once manage to<br />
attend an OSA Scarborough Christmas Dinner<br />
with Malcolm Peacock, but that was way<br />
back. I think it was Les Brown’s final attendance<br />
there. I have always been very thankful<br />
for the French he taught me, which has so<br />
often served me so well in my life, even on<br />
occasion today. Norman Stoddard was also at<br />
that dinner and made me feel very welcome.<br />
He was so very proud of having been at SBHS<br />
as a teacher, I recall. ‘The former SBHS pupils<br />
are the salt of the Earth’, I remember him<br />
saying.<br />
Currently, I am keeping my mind active by<br />
studying the serious side of the whole phenomenon<br />
of UFOs, plus learning Italian and<br />
studying/practicing Zen; also by doing a bit of<br />
translation work and, something quite new<br />
for me, making efforts to write a few short<br />
magazine articles. I love working with languages,<br />
particularly English and writing, and<br />
I think that I could just about have become an<br />
investigative journalist, but that is another<br />
story! But there is no going back, and as I said,<br />
I mostly enjoyed my working life. In between<br />
times my wife and I go on excursions to Italy,<br />
the Black Forest or Alsace, and in Switzerland
we go for mountain hikes or bike rides to<br />
keep fit.<br />
27<br />
Last but not least, on the very last day of this<br />
unforgettable trip of <strong>2005</strong>, David Fowler,<br />
kindly slotted in a memorable meeting with<br />
me and my wife at the Oliver’s Mount restaurant.<br />
This was especially pleasurable,<br />
not only for the splendid view<br />
across the whole town, but because<br />
David and I had first been together<br />
in the same class at Gladstone Road<br />
Junior School in 1946‐<strong>48</strong> (where we<br />
learned so much from our teacher,<br />
dear, kind Miss Margaret Hill). The<br />
view across Scarborough from the<br />
Mount on that final, beautifully<br />
sunny day was quite stunning. My<br />
heartfelt thanks go out to all of you<br />
lads, especially to David, for making<br />
the visit so worthwhile and memorable!<br />
I would be glad to have contact<br />
with anyone who is interested.<br />
David Fowler can supply all details.<br />
LEFT: Left to right<br />
Stuart Marriott, Brian Millington,<br />
Malcolm Peacock, John Harker<br />
BELOW: Left to right<br />
David Fowler, Agnes Millington, Brian<br />
Millington, … and below, Scarborough<br />
from Olivers Mount café.
JOEY’s SEAT<br />
By David Fowler<br />
(1949-55)<br />
In our last issue I mentioned<br />
that Scarborough<br />
Council had repaired<br />
and relocated Joey’s seat<br />
from the fishing harbour,<br />
to the area to the<br />
rear of the Valley Road<br />
duck pond, in front of<br />
the old High School<br />
lower playground at no cost to the Association.<br />
Shortly after we went to press they advised<br />
us that the plaque had been taken from the<br />
seat by vandals (or OSA trophy hunters?).<br />
28<br />
KETTLES & MOBILE<br />
PHONES…<br />
Professor Richard Seymour,<br />
the ex‐SBHS and<br />
Scarborough Technical<br />
College pupil who became<br />
a world famous designer<br />
and who invented the<br />
cordless kettle returned to<br />
Yorkshire Coast College to<br />
share his expertise with students.<br />
Richard Seymour, a former art and design<br />
student at Scarborough Technical College,<br />
gave a lecture at the Westwood Campus at<br />
2pm on Monday June 6.<br />
The founder partner of the internationally<br />
renowned London design group Seymour<br />
Powell reflected on his career in the area of<br />
three‐dimensional design.<br />
His consultancy is noted for their design of<br />
the world’s first cordless kettle for Tefal in<br />
1985, the first pocket mobile phone for Technophone<br />
in 1991 and for helping to develop<br />
Finnish company Nokia.<br />
OLD SCARBORIANS<br />
No. 2—Dr Jack Binns<br />
Jack Binns did not come<br />
to Scarborough until he<br />
was 28 years old. The<br />
Cambridge graduate<br />
grew up as an only<br />
child in Keighley, West<br />
Yorkshire.<br />
The seat was taken back to the council depot<br />
where it was re‐varnished and a new plaque<br />
was fixed. It is now back in position in the<br />
Valley as shown on the plan above.<br />
Despite money being<br />
tight, Jack’s parents<br />
gave him every opportunity to succeed in his<br />
education.<br />
“Today’s students would be envious of the<br />
totally free education I received from the age<br />
of four to twenty two at the expense of the
tax payer and not least the generous grants I<br />
was given during my four years at Cambridge<br />
Although my parents were poor and uneducated<br />
‐ my father left school to go into the mill<br />
at 12 years old and was barely literate and my<br />
mother, who taught me to read, went to work<br />
at 14 ‐ they did everything humanly possible<br />
to further my privileged education,” said Jack.<br />
At 19 Jack was given a choice ‐ either do your<br />
national service now or go and study the subject<br />
you love for three years at one of the country’s<br />
top universities.<br />
Unsurprisingly Jack put off his inevitable time<br />
in the army and spent three years studying for<br />
a History degree at Cambridge University.<br />
But the research post he had set his sights on<br />
was out of reach when he failed to get the first<br />
class degree he needed.<br />
After graduating in 1956 Jack was conscripted<br />
into the army and served part of his national<br />
service in Cyprus where he worked in signals<br />
intelligence spying on the Russians with the<br />
help of civilian operators, who had either been<br />
or would be posted to Irton Moor in Scarborough.<br />
Without the grades he needed to become a<br />
professional historian Jack returned to Cambridge<br />
and trained for a year to become a<br />
teacher.<br />
“Teaching history was always for me a second<br />
best option. For as long as I can remember I<br />
had wanted to be a historian, inspired as I was<br />
by former pupils of Keighley Grammar School,<br />
Herbert Butterfield, professor of modern history<br />
at Cambridge and Asa Briggs. But at<br />
Cambridge I failed to get a First in the History<br />
Tripos and in effect that disqualified me from<br />
an academic career. Only since retirement<br />
have I been able to concentrate entirely on<br />
researching and writing history,” said Jack.<br />
His first teaching job was at a school in Newcastle.<br />
From there he moved to the Wirral<br />
Grammar School in Cheshire.<br />
29<br />
“I wasn’t a natural teacher and I don’t have a<br />
natural public presence so in the first few<br />
years it was very hard work.<br />
It is very nerve wracking to start off with. I<br />
think it is for most people.”<br />
It was during his time at the grammar school<br />
that Jack met his wife. Catherine, who was a<br />
teacher at a local primary school.<br />
They met at a Spanish Society gathering in<br />
Liverpool and were drawn together by their<br />
love of all things Spanish.<br />
The couple moved to Scarborough in 1962 and<br />
Jack’s fascination with the town began to<br />
flourish.<br />
He was offered a teaching post at the Boys’<br />
High School and found this a very welcome<br />
revelation. “In my experience, as boy and<br />
teacher, grammar schools were in old, redundant,<br />
buildings ‐ dark, overcrowded, cold and<br />
inhospitable. They were triumphs of commitment<br />
over circumstances. In contrast, the<br />
building on Woodlands Drive was brand‐new,<br />
spacious, full of light and air, and with magnificent<br />
views over town and playing‐fields.<br />
The serious defects in its construction were not<br />
evident until we left in 1973! More to the point,<br />
inside this new and pleasant building were<br />
some of the cleverest boys it was my pleasure<br />
to teach and the happiest staff room I have<br />
ever known.<br />
“I was second in command in a department of<br />
two led by “Biff’ Smith who, regardless of<br />
nickname received in earlier days, I found<br />
amiable, affable and not in the least “bossy”<br />
towards a newcomer 40 years his junior. When<br />
he retired in 1965 I succeeded him. After that<br />
there was never a time when I ever thought of<br />
moving elsewhere. Under Alec Gardiner the<br />
SBHS was a well‐run ship and I was very glad<br />
to be aboard for as long as it sailed. Looking<br />
back 40 years I can now see how strengthening<br />
it was to have so many young <strong>Old</strong> Boys on the<br />
staff ‐ Stuart Marriott, Cedric Gillings, Bill<br />
Redman, Dave Eade, Norman Hopkin, Barry
Beanland, Michael Pitts and Dave Pettitt ‐<br />
during the final decade of SBHS.”<br />
When the High School was closed in 1973<br />
Jack moved to teach history at Scarborough<br />
Sixth Form College, where he was head of<br />
department.<br />
Jack spent his spare time and summer holidays<br />
delving into Scarborough’s past.<br />
“Scarborough and Whitby are ideal places for<br />
historians. Both are rich in eventful, significant<br />
and largely unexplored and unappreciated<br />
history,” said Jack.<br />
He is fascinated with the role the town played<br />
during the years of the Civil War in the 1640s<br />
and has written a book about it. His other<br />
books include memoirs and memorials of Sir<br />
Hugh Cholmley of Whitby, a history of Scarborough<br />
and Heroes, Rogues and Eccentrics<br />
from the town’s past.<br />
Jack, who retired in 1992. is currently working<br />
on a history of Yorkshire during the 1640s.<br />
He says the main aim of his work is to bring<br />
the past alive for everyday people in Scarborough.<br />
“I’ve never really claimed to be a professional<br />
historian — someone who plumbs all the<br />
depths.<br />
My aim is to make it accessible to the general<br />
public and that means being selective and<br />
being as lively as I can,” said Jack. [‘Yorkshire<br />
in the Civil Wars’ was published in 2004]<br />
He clocks up hundreds of miles when he is<br />
researching a book, spending hours studying<br />
documents in York and as far away as London<br />
as well as at Scarborough library.<br />
“I’ve spent most of my retired life in the 17th<br />
century.<br />
It’s unusual for me to be talking to someone<br />
who is alive.<br />
The issues of the 17th Century and the time of<br />
the Civil War seem to me to be absolutely the<br />
30<br />
most influential time in British history, and<br />
Scarborough happens to play a key part in it.<br />
What really interests me is getting as close as<br />
possible to people at the moment I’m reading<br />
about.”<br />
Jack swapped roles and became a student<br />
again when he returned to university to study<br />
for a history PhD. He based his thesis on the<br />
Life and Works of Sir Hugh Cholmley and<br />
received his doctorate from Leeds University<br />
in 1992, becoming Dr Jack Binns.<br />
But it is not just Scarborough’s past that Jack<br />
has been involved with ‐ he is an active member<br />
of Scarborough’s present day community<br />
too.<br />
He is the vice‐president of the Scarborough<br />
Archaeology Society, a member of the Friends<br />
of Scarborough Art Gallery and belongs to<br />
Scarborough’s oldest and most successful<br />
crown green bowling club, the Borough on<br />
Manor Road.<br />
He has lived at his Chatsworth Gardens home<br />
with his wife for more than 40 years and has<br />
seen his son Michael grow up there and follow<br />
in his father’s footsteps to become a geography<br />
teacher in Lancashire.<br />
Jack is also a grandfather to Michael’s two<br />
daughters Emma and Rebecca.<br />
Editor: With thanks to the Scarborough Evening<br />
News on whose article this item was<br />
based .<br />
ALFRED SAMUEL TETLEY<br />
1868 –1916<br />
Headmaster of<br />
Scarborough<br />
Municipal School<br />
(1902-16)<br />
After the item we included<br />
in the last issue, Chris<br />
Tetley, grandson of AS<br />
Tetley sent a generous
31<br />
donation to OSA funds.<br />
Around the same time the above attached<br />
Minutes of a Staff Meeting held Tuesday 1st<br />
December 1914, came to light…<br />
DOWN THE YEARS<br />
A TALE OF THREE<br />
GENERATIONS<br />
By Peter Wellburn<br />
(1955-62)<br />
Having retired some 12 months ago I have<br />
finally had the opportunity to put my hand to<br />
some of those tasks which were set aside during<br />
my working life to tackle ‘one day, when I<br />
have time’. One of these tasks was to sit down<br />
and try to make sense of all the bits of paper
and emails with information relating to my<br />
forbears. Closer examination of old newspaper<br />
cuttings made me realise that there was a close<br />
family connection with grammar school education<br />
in Scarborough which may be of interest to<br />
some of the <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> readers. So, as they<br />
say, let me begin at the beginning.<br />
Like several of my fellow pupils who joined the<br />
High School with me in 1955 I was aware I was<br />
following in the footsteps of my brother and<br />
my father. Unbeknown to me at the time I was<br />
also following in the footsteps of my great<br />
uncle, but more of him in due course. In those<br />
days the presence of ‘Brad’ and ‘Pike’ Richardson<br />
meant that I was soon sought out by these<br />
2 long‐serving teachers and informed that they<br />
remembered having taught both my brother<br />
and my father. Contrary to High School popular<br />
tradition ‘Biff’ Smith did not apparently<br />
know my father, although he did remember<br />
having taught my brother as did several of the<br />
other masters, notably Messrs Perry and Jones<br />
(who could forget his real‐life explanation of<br />
the consequences of the movements of the<br />
Goths and Vandals throughout Europe?)<br />
My passage through the school was relatively<br />
uneventful and I was one of the first to be<br />
transferred in my 5 th year to the brand new<br />
premises at Woodlands. Passing every day<br />
along Scalby Road on my bicycle on the way to<br />
school I had watched with interest as the<br />
‘aircraft hangars’ (as they were christened by<br />
Eric Rice) took their final distinctive form. ‘O’<br />
levels followed and with them the departure<br />
from school of some of my best friends (Fred<br />
Eade, if you are reading this please get in<br />
touch). Eventually armed with ‘A’‐ levels in<br />
Latin, Greek and Ancient History I found myself<br />
as did so many of my generation, bidding<br />
goodbye to Scarborough in pursuit of higher<br />
education. Many times, relatives had asked my<br />
mother how I came to be studying Latin and<br />
Greek. Her reply was always a rather puzzled<br />
‘I don’t know where he gets that from’.<br />
During the course of my High School career<br />
my father had made occasional reference to his<br />
days at the old Westwood school. He explained<br />
32<br />
that he had been a transfer from the old St<br />
Martin’s grammar school. I formed the impression<br />
that he had been particularly bright at<br />
maths and a stalwart of the school cricket team;<br />
at least that’s what he always told me. If my<br />
father had been hoping I would emulate his<br />
skills he must have been somewhat disappointed.<br />
I did subsequently manage to make<br />
up somewhat for my disappointing performances<br />
at cricket on the Oliver’s Mount playing<br />
fields by becoming the 2 nd highest scorer on the<br />
staff team of the old North Riding College of<br />
Education in the matches against the College<br />
students. Since in those days the College student<br />
team was mostly made up of young<br />
women (there were only 6 male students in the<br />
college, 2 of whom by their admission didn’t<br />
know how to play cricket) this puts a different<br />
perspective on my achievements.<br />
After university I worked in a number of academic<br />
and research libraries including several<br />
years in the Netherlands with the European<br />
Space Agency where years of school French<br />
with Les Brown prepared me for a life as a<br />
multilingual librarian. Eventually I returned to<br />
the UK to settle in Edinburgh where I had secured<br />
employment in the National Library of<br />
Scotland, dealing with collections in foreign<br />
languages but also involved in the management<br />
of its holdings of manuscripts and early<br />
printed books. Many of these were really ‘old<br />
friends’ as they had been the Latin and Greek<br />
texts prescribed for ‘O’ and ‘A’ level exams so<br />
many years earlier.<br />
As a government‐funded institution the National<br />
Library was, of course, increasingly affected<br />
from the 1980s onwards by cuts in government<br />
spending. Recourse was had to the<br />
increasing use of automation and so computers<br />
began to appear on our desks. In due course<br />
we were given access to e‐mail and the internet.<br />
We were even encouraged to use it for<br />
private purposes as a means of familiarising<br />
ourselves with the range of information resources<br />
available.<br />
At this point I need to return to my Great Uncle<br />
around whom this story revolves. Until 2001 all
I knew of him was that sometime after leaving<br />
school he had been ordained a minister in the<br />
Methodist Church in the North of England<br />
and had decided to seek his fortune as a minister<br />
in Pennsylvania sometime in the early<br />
1900s. Apparently he or his wife had continued<br />
to communicate with relatives in Scarborough<br />
until eventually contact ceased.<br />
One day during a lull at work I decided to use<br />
my internet connection in an attempt to locate<br />
any possible descendants in Pennsylvania.<br />
However, Wellburns there were aplenty scattered<br />
throughout the States but not a single<br />
one listed in Pennsylvania. Imagine my surprise<br />
then when one day in February 2001 I<br />
found an email awaiting me from a lady in<br />
Oklahoma who said she was looking for Wellburn<br />
relatives from Scarborough and mentioned<br />
the name of my father and grandfather.<br />
Excited by the prospect of finally making<br />
contact with long‐lost relatives I responded<br />
quickly with information about my side of the<br />
family. It very quickly became clear that these<br />
were in fact the relatives for whom I had previously<br />
sought in vain.<br />
33<br />
Prompted by the growing number of emails<br />
to and from my new‐found cousins as well as<br />
the transfer of family photos, I decided to take<br />
the plunge and purchase a computer for my<br />
own use at home. Among the information I<br />
received was an obituary notice of my Great<br />
Uncle George William. He was described as<br />
having been a ‘star pupil’ at the Grammar<br />
School in his native Scarborough to such an<br />
extent that he eventually became a pupil<br />
teacher (the obituary notice didn’t make it<br />
clear where this was). From George’s birthdate<br />
the ‘Grammar School’ referred to in his<br />
obituary must have been one of the forerunners<br />
of the SBHS – whether this was St Martin’s<br />
or the Municipal School I fear we will<br />
never know. Curiously, he lived with his<br />
parents, his brother (my grandfather) and<br />
sisters in Pavilion Square and presumably<br />
watched as the new Westwood School rose<br />
from its foundations. My knowledge of the<br />
Victorian education system is extremely limited<br />
but despite the fact that children often left<br />
school with only a few years of formal education<br />
George’s career shows there were clearly<br />
opportunities for attaining high standards.<br />
From my new‐found relatives I learnt that<br />
after leaving Scarborough for higher education,<br />
as I did many years later, great Uncle<br />
George had attended London University and<br />
taught for a period in Leicester before entering<br />
the church.<br />
On his arrival in the United States in 1909 he<br />
was appointed minister of the Methodist<br />
Church at Scranton in Pennsylvania. When<br />
his church was merged with another<br />
neighbouring congregation George volunteered<br />
as chaplain to the US army fighting the<br />
Mexican rebel, Pancho Villa, in Texas. Subsequently<br />
he returned to the north, this time as<br />
minister of the Methodist Church in Swarthmore,<br />
a sleepy university town near Philadelphia.<br />
Here he was eventually appointed as<br />
‘professor’ in Swarthmore College, a degree‐<br />
George William Wellburn
34<br />
awarding institution where he taught Latin<br />
and Greek. Had I finally discovered the origin<br />
of my own interest in the classical languages?<br />
My apologies to those wondering about the<br />
point of this story – well I did say it was a tale<br />
of 3 generations. Here the story becomes<br />
about as probable as the plot of a Jeffrey<br />
Archer novel. In summer 2001 my elder<br />
daughter, Lynn, graduated from university in<br />
Edinburgh with a degree in economics. Like<br />
my father she too was clearly something of a<br />
wizard at maths, so much so that for her degree<br />
exam marks she was awarded a university<br />
prize of an all‐expenses paid trip to New<br />
York together with a private visit to Wall<br />
Street Stock Exchange. For personal reasons<br />
she delayed taking up her prize until the<br />
beginning of September 2001. My cousins in<br />
the States had already informed me that one<br />
branch of the family was still living in upper<br />
New York State so I had duly despatched e‐<br />
mails to this branch of the family informing<br />
them when Lynn would be in New York in<br />
case they were able to meet her.<br />
For reasons which will become all too clear I<br />
recall phoning her on the evening of Sunday<br />
9 th September in her hotel a few blocks away<br />
from the World Trade Center to ask her plans<br />
for the remaining 2 days of her visit. She explained<br />
that her visit to Wall Street was<br />
scheduled for the following day, Monday 10 th<br />
September, and that her US cousin (a pilot<br />
instructor) had offered her a private flight in<br />
the evening over New York city at night. She<br />
added that she planned to visit the World<br />
Trade Center on the Tuesday 11 th September<br />
before flying back to Edinburgh that night.<br />
Here divine intervention seemed to take control<br />
of a situation, which was about to turn<br />
into a complete nightmare. Unbeknown to<br />
me, Lynn’s flight over New York on the Monday<br />
night had to be cancelled as there was<br />
what the Americans call ‘an electrical storm’<br />
that evening. Having the evening free she<br />
took the opportunity to go up the WTC’s<br />
towers that night and was one of the last out<br />
as the doors were closed to visitors for the<br />
night. At this point, she told me later, she felt<br />
disappointed that despite having gone all that<br />
way it now seemed unlikely that she would a<br />
have chance to meet her American relatives.<br />
Imagine my horror, not to say disbelief, when<br />
I arrived at work on the Tuesday after lunch<br />
to be told that New York was under attack. I<br />
spent a frantic 12 hours trying to phone<br />
Lynn’s hotel – without success of course –<br />
and watching the unfolding news first on the<br />
internet at work and later on television at<br />
home. All I could do was pray that my<br />
daughter had not risen early enough to get to<br />
the towers before the attacks had started.<br />
Eventually at 2 o’ clock in the morning when I<br />
was beginning to despair, Lynn phoned to<br />
say that she was all right although she had<br />
been told to stay put in the hotel despite having<br />
been due to depart that evening. She had<br />
spent all her money and had no money for<br />
food, not that money would have been much<br />
use as she explained that everything was<br />
closed round about and she was not allowed<br />
out on the street. Before long the phone rang<br />
again – this time my New York cousin to say<br />
that she would go into the city as soon as she<br />
could to take Lynn out to her home some 150<br />
miles from the city until the situation stabilised<br />
and Lynn could return home. Watching<br />
the news on television made me realise how<br />
fortunate I was compared to the relatives of<br />
those who never survived that day.<br />
The story does not quite end there as this first<br />
contact between 2 sides of a family separated<br />
for nearly a 100 years has led to my cousins<br />
coming to meet my brother and me and our<br />
families in Scarborough. We have also been<br />
out to the States where we were shown the<br />
church where a former Scarborough<br />
‘grammar school boy’ was appointed minister<br />
as well as the university where he taught<br />
Latin and Greek. We were also taken down to<br />
Florida to meet my father’s first cousin,<br />
Henry. He was taken with our Scarborough<br />
accents which reminded him of his own fa‐
ther’s curious British accent which he assured<br />
us he had never lost. Apparently George had<br />
always planned a return visit to his native<br />
Scarborough but two World Wars had prevented<br />
this. Also curious was the strong<br />
physical resemblance of ‘Uncle Henry’ to our<br />
father. So even the most horrific of stories<br />
sometimes has a happy ending.<br />
In good SBHS tradition I have just reread my<br />
efforts at the keyboard, mindful of the red pen<br />
which decorated school exercise books. I realise<br />
there is one mistake as this story covers 4<br />
generations. Well, I did say maths was never<br />
my strong point, didn’t I?<br />
IMPENDING RETIREMENT<br />
By Peter Newham<br />
(1954-61)<br />
After fifteen years at school,<br />
three years at University,<br />
and approximately forty<br />
years subsequent working<br />
life the contemplation of<br />
impending retirement is<br />
perhaps a daunting prospect,<br />
alternating on the one hand<br />
between the thought of<br />
“enough is enough” and that this represents a<br />
new challenge and the opening of a new door,<br />
and, on the other hand, in my more pessimistic<br />
moments the thought that it is all downhill<br />
from here on in, with my decline into a permanent<br />
Grumpy <strong>Old</strong> Man (and I wonder<br />
35<br />
whether any of your other readers identify<br />
with either of these categories?).<br />
Until now I had always fobbed off enquiries as<br />
to retirement with a glib rejoinder that I would<br />
only contemplate this when I grew up, but I<br />
am now assured that the latter is not a precondition<br />
for retirement, particularly for Yorkshiremen<br />
who allegedly never grow up!<br />
It does however bring more sharply into focus<br />
the “good old days”, and it is surprising that,<br />
despite my increasing difficulties with my<br />
short‐term memory as to what I did last week<br />
or where I put vital documents which seem to<br />
have been mislaid, this is not replicated by my<br />
recollections of the distant past. I read an<br />
article recently which indicated that “we are<br />
what we eat” a rather fatuous statement, and<br />
it would perhaps be more apt to say “we are<br />
what we were taught”. Even now with hindsight<br />
there were some parts of my education<br />
to which I wish I had paid more attention at<br />
the time.<br />
Having latterly, in a minor and modest way,<br />
taken an interest in antique restoration, so<br />
totally different and much more “hands on”<br />
and messy than the day job (to which my wife<br />
will testify in the unlikely event that I will give<br />
her a further opportunity (see last issue)) I<br />
wish in particular I had paid more attention to<br />
Keith Dutton in Woodwork.<br />
For many years a wooden teapot stand with a<br />
1960’s formica top reposed in the attic. I cannot<br />
say I was really seriously sentimentally<br />
<strong>Old</strong> Scarborian Michael Herman (1937‐1947) has been made<br />
an Honorary Doctor of Letters (D.Litt) by Nottingham University<br />
for his work, since retirement from government service in<br />
1987, in the development of academic ʹintelligence studiesʹ on<br />
the place of intelligence services in the modern world. Michael<br />
lives in Cheltenham and his e‐mail address is<br />
Mhe24@aol.com.
attached to it, particularly as, when inverted,<br />
it bore not a hallmark but “6/10 – fair”, but I<br />
could not bring myself to throw it away until<br />
recently. My belated shame at this is compounded<br />
by my grandfather having been a<br />
joiner, and my having inherited some of his<br />
tools. These however were craftsman tools<br />
and have long been supplanted by routers,<br />
electric planers and other B&Q assistance for<br />
the unskilled!<br />
In the past however the choice was either<br />
academic and classical subjects or the practical<br />
subjects, not both, but now this is not the case<br />
– one minor change in the education system<br />
which is possibly for the better! Languages<br />
(or rather my inattention to them) is also a<br />
regret – it was possible to do ‘O’ level and<br />
even ‘A’ level French without ever going to<br />
France or even speaking it properly insofar as<br />
the marks attributed to spoken French were<br />
only a small proportion of the required percentage,<br />
and fluency in Latin (which I also<br />
studied), was obviously not a sine qua non of<br />
cosmopolitan travel.<br />
I have recently, goaded by David Fowler in<br />
desperate search for contributions, submitted<br />
a number of these, for which I also have guilt<br />
feelings, as perhaps this sub‐consciously panders<br />
to my ego as an erstwhile failed author,<br />
though, perhaps more modestly, this may be<br />
regarded as an attempt to fill out pages in the<br />
magazine which would otherwise be blank.<br />
Even the titles, from “Jottings” through<br />
“Musings” to “Ramblings” are repetitive,<br />
though perhaps my reassurance can be that<br />
the readership is on the same exponential<br />
curve of age and will not notice the repetition.<br />
Whilst I was never very good at maths either,<br />
the youngest of the membership must now be<br />
in their mid‐forties, however the most elderly<br />
constitute a good advertisement for the longevity<br />
generally inspired by education at the<br />
High School.<br />
36<br />
LEN HUTTON – SOME<br />
MEMORIES<br />
By Michael Rines (1941-52)<br />
(a mere Hutton worshipper,<br />
whose only slight claim to<br />
fame is having been the only<br />
Englishman known to have<br />
been 12 th man for Australia.)<br />
I was born and brought up in Scarborough<br />
within the sound of the applause from the<br />
cricket ground. I was cricket mad and Len<br />
Hutton was my idol. He was also my model –<br />
not just where batting style was concerned,<br />
but in other ways too. I brushed my hair like<br />
his and I carried my left arm in the characteristic<br />
Hutton manner – slightly bent, a little<br />
pulled up and held slightly away from my<br />
side, which was a legacy of an unfortunate<br />
wartime fracture. I even learned to write his<br />
autograph and I can do it still without having<br />
to think about it.<br />
At first he was a distant idol, seen in the middle<br />
at matches on the Scarborough ground<br />
and even more distantly at Headingley in tests<br />
where I was constantly in fear of his getting<br />
out. Later in my early teens, my friend Eric<br />
Dixon and I became dressing room attendants<br />
in the four first class matches a year played on<br />
the Scarborough ground, and we got to know<br />
the players as few other people could.<br />
There was always one County Championship<br />
match, and at the end of the season there were<br />
three Festival Matches, usually Yorkshire v<br />
MCC; Gentlemen v Players and HDG Leveson‐Gower’s<br />
XI (later TN Pearce’s XI) against<br />
that year’s touring side. Hutton usually<br />
played in all of them and seemed to score runs<br />
almost at will on what was then a batsman’s<br />
paradise. For instance, in 1949 he scored <strong>48</strong>3<br />
runs in the three Festival Matches for an average<br />
of 80.5. I still have some of the score<br />
cards, including one for Yorkshire v MCC in
which Hutton scored 147 in the first innings<br />
(caught Wyatt, bowled Compton, which<br />
probably pleased the latter a lot more than<br />
it did Hutton) He scored 52 in the second<br />
innings and in the course of the match<br />
reached his 3,000 for the season.<br />
Our job as dressing room attendants was to<br />
clean the players’ boots and pads, run their<br />
baths, fetch their (often copious) amounts<br />
of beer from the bar round the back of the<br />
pavilion, look after the autograph books<br />
and clean the two dressing rooms at the<br />
end of the day.<br />
It was a cricket mad teenager’s dreamcome‐true<br />
to serve our gods, hear their<br />
gossip, hear them talking about their techniques<br />
and about other players. When they<br />
had all gone off to the pub or to their hotels<br />
at the end of the day, we could try their<br />
caps on and play imaginary strokes with<br />
their bats – of which Len Hutton’s was<br />
always the lightest.<br />
I always chose to work in the home side’s<br />
dressing room, because that was where my<br />
hero was. My friend Eric did not mind,<br />
because for one thing he was less of a fan<br />
than I was, his interest being in wicketkeeping.<br />
For another, the Yorkshire dressing<br />
room was not a happy place, as some of<br />
the players were really very unpleasant and<br />
uncouth.<br />
A story illustrates the point. The Scarborough<br />
Club professional was our supervisor.<br />
He was a West Indian, Hughie Croskill,<br />
and was an amiable, gentle man who had<br />
played first class cricket for Jamaica and<br />
was playing professionally for Scarborough<br />
while he was qualifying for the Bar. One<br />
day I heard Don Brennan, the Yorkshire<br />
wicket keeper, address him as ‘Sambo’<br />
when he was asking him to do something<br />
for him.<br />
There were others we did not like.<br />
Strangely they were usually those who<br />
were most popular with the crowds –<br />
37<br />
Johnny Wardle for instance, who was later<br />
thrown out of the team because of his behaviour.<br />
They were not all bad of course.<br />
Vic Wilson, Willy Watson, Ted Lester, Norman<br />
Yardley and Billy Sutcliffe were always<br />
very kind to us. Hutton was, too, but<br />
the overall atmosphere was not pleasant.<br />
Hutton always had the same place in the<br />
dressing room – the left hand one at the<br />
back, where he would sit, quiet and rather<br />
detached from the others, with his eyes<br />
often looking slightly to the left and slightly<br />
upwards, focused far away. If he was telling<br />
a story in his so soft voice with its<br />
elided consonants – battin’ and bowlin’ –<br />
his left eyebrow would lift just a fraction<br />
and there would be the merest trace of a<br />
confidential grin.<br />
If he wanted us to do anything for him, he<br />
always asked politely and always remembered<br />
our names, in marked contrast with<br />
the rough demands of some of the others.<br />
On one occasion in 1949 he asked us to<br />
clean his boots and pads especially well<br />
because he was having his photograph<br />
taken for a booklet about himself, so rather<br />
than compete for the honour we did one<br />
boot and one pad each. I still have a print<br />
of the photograph signed by Hutton.<br />
One treasured memory was of a visit to the<br />
dressing room by Wilfred Rhodes (he was<br />
blind in his old age, but still attended all<br />
first class matches in Scarborough and<br />
could tell whether a shot was a good one by<br />
the sound of the bat on the ball). Hutton<br />
asked him something about Jack Hobbs.<br />
Rhodes demonstrated with his white stick<br />
how Hobbs used to manage to drive a ball<br />
pitched very wide on the off‐side. Before<br />
advancing with his left foot forward and to<br />
the right, he first moved his back foot<br />
across to the off. Hutton was fascinated.<br />
I was impressed that a player who was<br />
acknowledged as the finest stylist of his<br />
time and at the height of his powers, should
still be willing to learn. This was also the man<br />
of whom, at the age of 16, George Hirst had<br />
said to Bill Bowes – “Bill, I’ve got a young lad at<br />
these classes and it’s not a bit of use his coming.<br />
I can tell him nowt.”<br />
I don’t know whether he ever tried the Hobbs<br />
technique, but I would not have been surprised<br />
if he had. He never had the reputation of being<br />
a great experimenter, but in the light atmosphere<br />
of the Festival Matches he was willing to<br />
have a bit of fun. I do know that when someone<br />
reminded him of the way the massively<br />
built Clyde Walcott could hit a straight six off<br />
the back foot, the slightly built Hutton had a go<br />
in his next innings and fell only slightly short.<br />
Hutton was by no means a muscular man and<br />
was handicapped by his weakened and shortened<br />
left arm. He played with it strapped<br />
above the wrist with wide pieces of elastoplast,<br />
which we boys were told not to throw away<br />
after use because he used the pieces more than<br />
once; in the fifties even the greatest players<br />
were not paid very much. Hutton was nevertheless<br />
a very powerful player. Few people<br />
appreciated this, because he never bludgeoned<br />
the ball. He relied on his exquisite technique<br />
and timing, but Freddie Trueman told me he<br />
was the hardest hitter of a ball in English<br />
cricket and underlined the point with the story<br />
of a giant six on to the balcony at Bradford’s<br />
Park Avenue ground.<br />
A few years after my days in the dressing room<br />
as a boot boy, I achieved a long held ambition<br />
by playing in the same team as Hutton. This<br />
was just after he had retired from the first class<br />
game with persistent back trouble. We were<br />
playing country house cricket for Sir William<br />
Worsley’s XI ( he later became President of<br />
Yorkshire Cricket Club) on his private ground<br />
at Hovingham Hall, near York. The opposition<br />
were The Arabs, Jim Swanton’s touring team<br />
made up mostly of ageing ex‐public school<br />
cricketers, plus a sprinkling of retired first class<br />
amateurs, such as Gubby Allen and a few<br />
younger players to compensate for the creaking<br />
joints of the rest.<br />
38<br />
I treasure one memory in particular. In those<br />
days, cricket writers seemed to me to be divided<br />
into Hutton men and Compton men, and<br />
Swanton was quite definitely not a Hutton<br />
man. I think he had given Len a bit of stick in<br />
his columns over the years and Len chose an<br />
opportunity to get some of his own back. The<br />
rather portly Swanton stood at mid‐off not very<br />
far back so that he could speak to his bowler.<br />
Behind him was the longest boundary on the<br />
ground. Hutton drove past him with a shot<br />
weighted precisely to stop just inches short of<br />
the line so that Swanton had to puff all the way<br />
out there while the batsmen ran three. His<br />
chest heaving, he returned to position and his<br />
flushed countenance was greeted by a trace of a<br />
Hutton grin and a gentle lifting of that left eyebrow.<br />
At another stage of the game, Hutton who had<br />
an unrivalled reputation as a player of spin<br />
bowling, was batting against a young Australian<br />
leg breaker. He cannot have been concentrating,<br />
because he failed to spot a googly and<br />
in his efforts to correct his shot, fell over very<br />
awkwardly. For a man supposedly crippled by<br />
a back problem, he was back on his feet and<br />
ready for the next ball with surprising alacrity.<br />
That incident and an astonishing slip catch he<br />
took when we fielded have always made me<br />
think that perhaps the bad back was an excuse<br />
by a very tired man for getting out of the game.<br />
Perhaps if he could have restricted his playing<br />
to test matches he would have carried on<br />
longer. I had the feeling that he was just worn<br />
out. He was always rather reserved, and the<br />
strain of opening the batting, captaining England<br />
on the field and coping with the social<br />
responsibilities off it, must have been very<br />
wearing. Watching him play for Yorkshire in<br />
the later years of his career I never had the<br />
feeling that his heart was in it. There was just<br />
too much cricket, and the atmosphere in the<br />
Yorkshire dressing room cannot have made the<br />
prospect of carrying on playing, when he was<br />
too old for tests, very appealing.
It was many years after that before I saw<br />
Len Hutton again. I had become a journalist<br />
and was covering the CBI Conference in<br />
Brighton for the CBI’s own magazine, which<br />
was a regular assignment for me. As always,<br />
I read right through the list of delegates<br />
to find people who would be interesting<br />
for vox pop interviews. The previous<br />
year, I had interviewed Reg Simpson, the<br />
former Nottingham and England player.<br />
This time I found ‘Hutton, Sir Leonard’,<br />
representing Fenner Belts.<br />
I thought for a long time before setting out<br />
to find him. I really wanted to remember<br />
him as he had been when he was the greatest<br />
batsman in the world. I didn’t want the<br />
god of my youth replaced by the reality of<br />
an elderly, perhaps physically broken shell.<br />
In the end I couldn’t resist the temptation to<br />
find him, and I set off through the crowded,<br />
confusing corridors and lounges of the conference<br />
centre, peering at faces and badges,<br />
wondering if I would recognise him, almost<br />
fearing the moment when I would. What a<br />
39<br />
relief! He wasn’t broken. He was still the<br />
Hutton I remembered. The eyes were still<br />
looking to the distant left, the slightly<br />
arched left eyebrow, the broad broken nose,<br />
that trace of a grin, and the extra wrinkles<br />
merely accentuated the character of the face.<br />
Nobody else recognised him, so I had him to<br />
myself. I asked him the usual duty questions<br />
about why he was attending the conference,<br />
what he was getting out of it, what<br />
he thought of the speakers so far, and then<br />
we got on to cricket. I cannot remember<br />
much detail, but I do remember he poured<br />
scorn on the array of armour modern players<br />
feel they have to wear to protect themselves<br />
against the quickies. He reckoned<br />
they would be able to play better without<br />
the encumbrances and should rely on their<br />
own speed of movement to keep out of trouble.<br />
Finally, I got my photographer to take a<br />
picture of him for the magazine and one of<br />
me with him – for me.
40<br />
OLD SCARBORIANS<br />
GOLF CUPS<br />
After winning the TA Smith Cup in 2004, Fred<br />
Crosby (1949‐56) agreed to transcribe the<br />
names appearing on the cup. Members must<br />
have many memories about the winning contestants—please<br />
share these with us. Or the<br />
contestants themselves might like to write in.<br />
BOGEY COMPETITION<br />
Presented by T A Smith<br />
1949 K Percival<br />
1950 R Bradley<br />
1951 T E Fryer<br />
1952 R L Lund<br />
1953 T E Fryer<br />
1954 T A Smith<br />
Gap in competition<br />
1963 S J Beamont<br />
1964 M J Harrison<br />
1965 M J Harrison<br />
1966 J R Armitage<br />
1967 A M Benson<br />
1968 R S Blower<br />
1969 G White<br />
1970 R Vayro<br />
1972 G Manson<br />
1973 N Parkin<br />
1974 R Jibson<br />
1975 J A Sedman<br />
1976 J A Sedman<br />
1977 J J Davison<br />
1978 No Competition<br />
1979 R Jibson<br />
1980 G Shepherd<br />
1981 G Shepherd<br />
1982 M Hutton<br />
1983 J S Knowles<br />
1984 J J Davison<br />
1986 S R Lloyd<br />
1987 W Temple<br />
1988 K Fryirs<br />
1989 K Fryirs<br />
1990 S Temple<br />
1991 L P Darnell<br />
1992 L P Darnell<br />
1993 L P Darnell<br />
1994 J Devine<br />
1995 W Temple<br />
1996 K N Shepherdson<br />
1998 H Temple<br />
1999 W Temple<br />
2000 G P Gridley<br />
2001 J Swift<br />
2002 S P Bell<br />
2003 G P Gridley<br />
2004 F T Crosby<br />
<strong>2005</strong> GF Winn<br />
SCHOOL CAMPS<br />
By Brian Millington<br />
(19<strong>48</strong>-55)<br />
I have the following<br />
memories of school camps.<br />
Torridon<br />
Our party went from Scarborough<br />
by (in those days<br />
still steam) train, a marvellous<br />
trip up from York<br />
through the glorious northern English countryside<br />
and then across rolling southern Scotland,<br />
breaking the journey at Edinburgh and<br />
beautiful, peaceful Inverness (the best English<br />
in the British Isles was spoken there, we were<br />
told), before finally arriving at tiny Achnasheen<br />
station. From there we went by local<br />
bus down a narrow asphalt strip that was the<br />
main road to the campsite; the latter being<br />
halfway between Achnasheen and the west<br />
coast and absolutely miles from anywhere,<br />
beside a shallow river in the middle of a<br />
broad, grassy valley; with the occasional ruined<br />
stone croft as witness of the long‐ago<br />
days when the English began the practice of<br />
ethnic cleansing in the Scottish glens. One old<br />
lady passenger on the bus even spoke Gaelic,<br />
the only time in my life that I have ever heard<br />
that ancient language.<br />
Memories persist too of the freezing (well, it<br />
felt like it, as it was Whitsuntide, which was
41<br />
early that year) night visits to the ‘bog’ as<br />
we called it, for it was literally just that<br />
where the camp latrine was dug (I believe<br />
to this day that is possible that this synonym<br />
was coined by our party that very<br />
week and has now spread worldwide! Until<br />
then, the commonly used term was still<br />
‘loo’.). Was there a separate bog for the<br />
masters? I can’t remember. On a more<br />
pleasant note, I have recollections of the<br />
gentle sound in the glen of a distant cuckoo<br />
at dawn; of washing in the icy cold water of<br />
the nearby river; of the (albeit rather dangerous)<br />
fun of ‘skating’ down scree slopes<br />
on a hike; of seeing something shiny in a<br />
gully which we imaginatively thought<br />
could be the remains of a crashed aircraft……but<br />
maybe it was just a bit of snow<br />
left behind from the previous winter. On<br />
our free day Terry Vokes (I think), a couple<br />
of other lads and I went on a hike across<br />
country to the nearby Loch Torridon, from<br />
where we imagined we could see the Isle of<br />
Skye on the horizon. Could we?<br />
Switzerland<br />
Bill Potts junior, of quite phenomenal memory,<br />
notes in an OSA website Forum message<br />
that there were at least three Swiss<br />
camps, two of which, he says, were organised<br />
in successive years in 1951 / 1952. I was<br />
fortunate enough to be on both an<br />
Arosa/Pontresina camp and one to Zermatt/Bern,<br />
and I have always thought that<br />
there were at least two years interval between<br />
them. In my mind, the date 1949 or<br />
even 1950 seems to stand out for one of<br />
them, but maybe I’m getting confused as I<br />
get older. Be that as it may: what I had seen<br />
of Switzerland on those Swiss camps was<br />
the reason I decided to come to live and<br />
work here in this beautiful country; where I<br />
subsequently met and married a Swiss girl<br />
and remained here to this day! I believe<br />
Bill Potts senior may have suggested the<br />
camps originally and if so, I am very thankful<br />
to him!<br />
Zermatt/Bern in 1952 (?)<br />
Bill junior has also reminded me in a chat of<br />
the occasion when our school party entrained<br />
in Ostend before heading south<br />
through Luxembourg to the Swiss Confederation.<br />
We had some hours to kill before<br />
the train left, so, with the friendly help of<br />
the Belgian police, I looked up in the town a<br />
former Belgian resistance fighter, Emil<br />
Leleux, whom my father, during his RAF<br />
days, had met whilst on service in Belgium<br />
at the end of WW2. Emil had a Belgian<br />
sheepdog (they look like an Alsatian) that<br />
he had trained to be a guard dog and to do<br />
all those acrobatic tricks that dogs must do<br />
at dog trials, including jumping over his<br />
crouching master’s back etc. Emil and his<br />
dog entertained us on the Ostend railway<br />
station platform for some time just before<br />
our train left, and his parting gift to us was<br />
a huge bunch of bananas, something that<br />
was still rare in the post‐WW2 Scarborough<br />
fruit shops (Quartons market gardeners<br />
having no banana plants of their own!),<br />
which we all shared and really enjoyed.<br />
Thanks Bill, for reminding me of that!<br />
We had travelled Dover‐Ostend on the<br />
good ferry ship ‘Invicta’, which a smiling<br />
Bill senior told us had been the ship that<br />
‘his’ scientific team had used in wartime<br />
during secret, successful experiments in<br />
degaussing ships to render them immune<br />
to magnetic mines. Quite an achievement. I<br />
recall how he used to relate in class how his<br />
and his colleagues’ efforts were progressing<br />
to attempt get some substantial compensation<br />
from the British Government for the<br />
tens of thousands of tons of Allied shipping<br />
that the degaussing coils from Bill’s team<br />
had saved from the German mines. His<br />
dismay was clear and understandable<br />
when he told us one day that after all their<br />
efforts they had, finally, each been<br />
awarded, as he put it, only ‘a thousand<br />
miserable quid’.
Bill Potts senior was a ‘tent master’ in Zermatt;<br />
and I recall that he had to move into the Hotel<br />
Schweizerhof because down on the campsite<br />
he was having a terrible time with his asthma.<br />
One of my tent‐mates was Tony Haslam.<br />
Climbing those mountain slopes around Zermatt,<br />
especially the one to Riffelalp, up towards<br />
the Schwarzsee, and on to the Gornergrat,<br />
was sheer hell for some of us. Lacking in<br />
fitness; without hiking practice; at over 2000<br />
metres above sea level; wearing stiff army<br />
surplus boots that weighed a ton with dozens<br />
of hammered‐in segs covering the whole surface<br />
of their soles to get a grip on the perilous<br />
ice fields and rock faces that we would be sure<br />
to encounter ‘mountaineering’ in Switzerland;<br />
carrying a full rucksack with provender for the<br />
communal picnic lunch (loaves, tins of bully<br />
beef, cheese etc.); suffering from the heat and<br />
altitude; all these factors combined to ensure<br />
that the column of gasping, groaning, cussing,<br />
heavily perspiring boys stretched for, it<br />
seemed, 2‐3 miles behind our leading Sherpa<br />
Tinkler, striding out ahead with one or two<br />
masters (and I think Chris Francis was also<br />
present up ahead, but I seldom saw him from<br />
my place in the staggering chain gang!). We<br />
were told by the few experienced hikers in the<br />
party that to stop was by far the worst thing<br />
you could do: you would never, ever, get your<br />
hiking rhythm again and would fall by the<br />
wayside, prey to the natives and wild beasts of<br />
the neighbourhood or something worse; so we<br />
kept going. If, for any reason, the Great Leaders<br />
did make a halt, it served the poor devils<br />
crawling up behind, bathed in perspiration,<br />
suffering from blisters and mosquito attacks,<br />
no purpose: as soon as they caught up, the<br />
whole column immediately set off full pelt<br />
once again. KEEP YOUR RHYTHM! AND<br />
DON’T TAKE OFF YOUR BOOTS! the pundits<br />
said. Your feet will swell, we were told; you<br />
will not be able to get the boots back on, and<br />
you will be stuck up here, barefoot, unless<br />
someone takes pity and carries you back down.<br />
And it’s no good asking us, they said, you have<br />
been warned! Ever onwards and upwards.<br />
Ever more slowly .. the air getting thinner<br />
42<br />
(cough, choke, gasp, groan) and the pain in the<br />
lungs ever more excruciating…but THEN,<br />
when we finally reached our destination and<br />
saw the unforgettably glorious views from the<br />
Schwarzsee: the 180 degree panorama with the<br />
Matterhorn centre stage and, later, from the<br />
Gornergrat station and hotel terrace itself: the<br />
enormous, snow‐covered, magical Monte Rosa<br />
massif gleaming in the sun, with the Heavenly<br />
Twins Castor and Pollux (which we rechristened<br />
immediately with a much less polite<br />
name, needless to say), it was suddenly all<br />
worth while and our pain and suffering was no<br />
more! That was OUR Everest climb .. and who<br />
knows? Maybe we felt much the same inside<br />
ourselves as our Himalayan heroes at ‘their’<br />
summit! The good news for those among us<br />
who were really shattered by the climb: from<br />
the Gornergrat, there was the possibility to ride<br />
in the cog rail train all the way back to Zermatt!<br />
As for the rest of us, this turned out to be<br />
merely an acclimatisation ‘walk’ : we were<br />
only halfway there! In fact, there was more, far<br />
worse to come. (I remember that another hike<br />
on that camp was through the mountain<br />
woods in the rain and clouds, enclosed in nonpermeable<br />
ex‐army gas capes and wet through<br />
to the skin with condensation)!<br />
(An aside on nails: a couple of boys, of whom<br />
Stuart Marriott was one, I think, had the muchenvied,<br />
authentic Swiss ‘Klinker’ wrap‐around<br />
and over, sole‐edge mounted, hi‐tech, state‐ofthe‐art,<br />
technological cutting‐edge, rockclimber’s<br />
nails on their boots, which formerly<br />
had their usefulness but have now disappeared<br />
completely from the Swiss hiking scene. Softsoled<br />
sneakers with a good grip are now preferred<br />
by many climbers on rock, unless there<br />
is lots of ice and snow on the face.)<br />
But back to the climb‐hike: We went on down<br />
from the Gornergrat terrace on to the Gornergletscher<br />
itself, crossing the river of ice to the<br />
Monte Rosa Hütte, which is a hostel hut run by<br />
the Swiss Alpine Club for mountaineers<br />
(expert Swiss climbers, incidentally, refer to the<br />
SAC members disparagingly as ‘alpinists’; they<br />
themselves are ‘mountaineers’ or, better still,<br />
‘climbers’ (Kletterer)). The hut is way, way up
on the glacial moraine in the shadow of<br />
Monte Rosa, miles and miles away upglacier.<br />
Climbers would (and still do) spend<br />
the night there before leaving at the crack of<br />
dawn to attack the difficult climbs on the 3‐<br />
4,000 metre peaks in the area before the sun<br />
melts ice in the rock faces and makes the<br />
climbs dangerous with falling stones and<br />
slushy snowfields. Being British, we had an<br />
obligation to sleep there (in memory of Edward<br />
Whymper, ‘Scrambles in the Alps’ and<br />
all that stuff, that actually started the Swiss<br />
tourist industry!), so we did. Our ‘beds’ were<br />
the hard wooden boards of a mass dormitory<br />
floor with about 20 wafer‐thin straw palliases<br />
provided to sleep on. I think we were also<br />
given one Swiss Army blanket each… and it<br />
was blooming cold in there, believe me. Tibetan<br />
monks probably have it luxurious in<br />
comparison! I hardly slept at all, being a very<br />
light sleeper and several people were snoring.<br />
About 100 metres down the rocky moraine<br />
that sloped steeply down to the then<br />
still mighty Gornergletscher, accessed by a<br />
zigzag track about 25 cm wide, there was a<br />
little wooden hut, 1 x 1 x 2 metres, looking<br />
(and smelling) as though it had been imported<br />
third‐hand from Kathmandu or somewhere;<br />
the SAC outside latrine with the telltale<br />
heart‐shaped spy hole in the door. Inside<br />
there was no little yellow idol, but during the<br />
day there WAS foetid heat and a cloud of<br />
flies. One sat on a cross‐bench seat with a big<br />
hole in it through which, about 30 feet below,<br />
one could see straight down into the deep,<br />
black crevasse between the glacier and its<br />
rocky bed. One wrong step in the night, you<br />
imagined, and you would be down there too!<br />
Your bones would come out at the glacier’s<br />
nose in a 1000 years’ time, imagined the<br />
schoolboy’s mind! So you stayed in the coldness<br />
of the dormitory, knees up, holding it<br />
back at all costs, listening to the others snoring,<br />
waiting and praying for the merciful<br />
dawn to light the way. There was a strong<br />
smell of ammonia all around the hut, so<br />
maybe not only schoolboys were cautious<br />
about that downhill trip at night. The early<br />
43<br />
climbers left the hut between 3 and 4 am,<br />
waking you up once again, if you had by<br />
some chance managed to drop off, and then,<br />
finally, it was time for us, so stiff that we<br />
were scarcely able to move, to get up, wash<br />
in the icy water available, eat a breakfast of<br />
cheese, bread and jam provided with strong,<br />
milky Swiss coffee by the hut keeper, write<br />
something ribald in the hut’s guestbook<br />
(‘rich amateurs’, as Barry Jubb once referred<br />
to himself at another Swiss camp in a note in<br />
the guest book of the Diavolezzahütte above<br />
Pontresina), and move on … Although truth<br />
to tell, we really were amateurs: in our crass<br />
ignorance, we as a group twice committed<br />
the cardinal sin of crossing a major glacier,<br />
criss‐crossed with snow‐covered crevasses,<br />
on a very hot day without a guide and without<br />
being roped together. The ice constantly<br />
melts and shifts; and deep crevasses can be<br />
hidden by slushy snow that looks quite firm<br />
and deep until you stand on it: you simply<br />
fall through and down, jamming into the<br />
crevasse like a human wedge. So many people<br />
have died in this way. What with our<br />
curiosity, our devil‐may‐care attitude, and<br />
less than professional footwear, it really is a<br />
wonder that no one slid on the extremely<br />
slippery melting ice, down into one of those<br />
awesome slits: those who do so are more<br />
often than not on their last journey in this<br />
life. It’s their last trip on Earth, so to speak.<br />
When, en route back to Zermatt, we finally<br />
arrived down at the ‘nose’ of the Gornergletscher,<br />
many miles further down, some of us<br />
boys decided in a moment of rashness when<br />
there were no masters around, to have a go<br />
at cutting steps up the face of the Gornergletscher<br />
‘nose’ with our school ice picks. I was<br />
one of them. In our puerile minds, I recall,<br />
we were pretending to be on an Everest expedition.<br />
The Nepalese Sherpa Tenzing recently<br />
having conquered Everest with a New<br />
Zealander, we got the idea that this was<br />
somehow a British achievement because the<br />
project leader was from the UK; and so we<br />
seemed to think by association that it would
e a good idea to ape the sterling efforts of the<br />
pukka climbers in the Himalayas on the<br />
equally challenging ice walls of Zermatt, on<br />
the North Face of the Gornergletscher, as it<br />
were! Show these Swiss a thing two! THIS IS<br />
HOW IT’S DONE, MEINE HERREN, BY<br />
GENUINE, TRUE‐BLUE BRITISH CLIMBERS,<br />
NOT YOUR AMATEUR SWISS, GERMAN‐<br />
SPEAKING ALPINISTS! A passing Swiss<br />
hiker, who could speak no English and clearly<br />
did not share our views, remonstrated quite<br />
strongly with us in German. We were in the<br />
Latin half of the class, so had no idea what he<br />
was saying. ‘Non comprez!’, says we, knowing<br />
the (other) language (he spoke no better<br />
French than we 12‐year olds)! Clearly (so the<br />
run of our thoughts and remarks), because the<br />
Swiss had not been the first to reach the peak<br />
of the world’s highest mountain, this cretin<br />
simply wanted those of us from the nation<br />
who just had done so (!) to stop having fun, be<br />
good boys and come down to terra firma. Just<br />
envy on his part, that’s all it was, we said. We<br />
thought he was just being a fuddy‐duddy and<br />
a spoilsport. However, when I later came to<br />
live in Switzerland and related the incident to<br />
an experienced mountaineer, he went, as we<br />
used to say, nearly spare. I was told that by<br />
doing what we did we had been in great danger<br />
of our lives: the thickness and firmness of<br />
a glacier’s sloping ‘nose’ of ice being totally<br />
unpredictable, especially in high summer, it<br />
could easily have collapsed under us with<br />
tragic consequences for all concerned.<br />
This awful truth that the mountains are not<br />
only beautiful but also very dangerous was<br />
truly brought home to some of us when we<br />
visited the Zermatt cemetery to view the<br />
many graves of climbers, many of them British,<br />
who have their last resting place there.<br />
Memories come back too of a young Zermatt<br />
goatherd boy, Bernhard, who came past the<br />
camp every evening on his way back to the<br />
village with his animals; we could speak a bit<br />
of stumbling French; he could speak only<br />
German (and no Latin!), so unfortunately<br />
there was no real contact. Memories too, of the<br />
44<br />
local farmers, releasing the mountain beck<br />
water from special, painstakingly made stone<br />
irrigation channels into and across the tiny,<br />
neatly kept, very green fields by lifting<br />
wooden paddles placed across the sluices….. I<br />
haven’t seen that done for many years now.<br />
The farmers nowadays have installed the<br />
ubiquitous sprinklers with timer switches. By<br />
the way, for those who remember that wonderfully<br />
situated Zermatt campsite, from<br />
where we used to walk to some nearby chalets<br />
to fetch the warm bread left there for our<br />
breakfasts early every morning, with its splendid<br />
view of the Matterhorn massif; from<br />
where we used to wave and call to travellers<br />
on the little red train coming and going to and<br />
from Visp: sadly, it is no more…. some enterprising<br />
people have built a helicopter port on<br />
it….and due to the greenhouse effect, the<br />
Gornergletscher has, sadly, gradually receded<br />
so much that the Monte Rosa Hütte is now<br />
quite some way away from it and the latrine<br />
of vivid memory, if it has been moved to keep<br />
pace with the ice, to allow for natural dispersal<br />
of detritus, must be a short scree ride<br />
down‐moraine from the hut by now!<br />
Leaving Zermatt, we had an exciting, picturesque<br />
train ride across Wallis from Zermatt,<br />
through the Lötschberg tunnel and then along<br />
the side of Lake Thun with all the carriage<br />
windows wide open (it was baking hot), to<br />
Bern, where we camped near the River Aare<br />
and had a swim in its cool waters. I vividly<br />
remember having Wienerschnitzel and most<br />
delicious ‘matchstick’ size chips when our<br />
Great Leaders reserved lunch for us in a local<br />
restaurant. It was the first and one of the best<br />
Wienerschnitzel that I ever had…. and those<br />
chips were out of this world, even for someone<br />
used to Capplemann’s best in Scarborough…<br />
they brought us plateful upon plateful<br />
of chips from the kitchen as a ‘supplément’,<br />
until we could eat no more! The meal probably<br />
tasted even better coming after 10 days or<br />
so of picnics and camp cooking! It may have<br />
been the year of the Round Ball Game World<br />
Championships in Switzerland, or the year<br />
after. As my memory serves me, I recall some
of us walking over a<br />
big bridge from the<br />
city across the Aare,<br />
looking down on to a<br />
football field alongside<br />
the river and<br />
talking about the big<br />
event, which had<br />
been held in the country<br />
a couple of<br />
months (or was it<br />
already a year?) before.<br />
This should date<br />
the camp. Tempi<br />
passati. Tempi passati.<br />
Editor:<br />
Coincidentally,<br />
member Peter Trowsdale<br />
sent in photos<br />
both of camps and<br />
sporting events. His<br />
camp photos feature<br />
here and on page 47.<br />
Do you recognise<br />
yourself?<br />
45<br />
Top:<br />
Chamonix 1950<br />
Centre:<br />
Davos Arosa<br />
1951<br />
Bottom:<br />
Davos Arosa
46<br />
Drabble & Co<br />
Solicitors<br />
<strong>Old</strong> Rose Cottage<br />
409 Scalby Road<br />
Newby<br />
Scarborough<br />
North Yorkshire<br />
YO12 6UA<br />
Tel: 01723 507508<br />
Fax: 01723 500540<br />
DX 61806 SCARBOROUGH<br />
Advertise in <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong><br />
<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> is published twice a<br />
year and is mailed to around 700<br />
members, world wide. Additionally,<br />
the magazine appears on our web site<br />
where adverts appear in colour.<br />
And the prices to advertise?<br />
Full page outside back cover £70<br />
Full page inside covers £65<br />
Full page inside £55<br />
Half page inside £35<br />
Quarter page inside £20<br />
Details from<br />
Chris Found<br />
Pinewood<br />
SILPHO<br />
SCARBOROUGH YO13 0JP<br />
DeeFound@Yorkshire.net<br />
Phone 01723 882343<br />
Maritime Motifs<br />
Southley Road<br />
South Molton<br />
North Devon EX36 4BL<br />
Tel / Fax +44 (0)1769 572727<br />
We are pleased to provide quality<br />
Sweaters/ Pullovers in 100%<br />
Lambswool or Wool/Acrylic to<br />
members of the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong><br />
Association worldwide. These<br />
bear the OSA emblem.<br />
Please contact us for details and<br />
prices.
47<br />
Top:<br />
George Beadle and<br />
friend<br />
Titlis 1949<br />
Right:<br />
A new pupil?<br />
Titlis 1949<br />
The sports photos will be used in a future<br />
edition.<br />
SUMMER<br />
TIMES<br />
By David<br />
Fowler<br />
As you will read elsewhere<br />
in this edition, I<br />
have been unsuccessful<br />
in my efforts over the<br />
last 18 months or so, to obtain a successor to<br />
compile <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong>.<br />
Commitments and other interests are taking<br />
more time than I have available and the time<br />
has come when I have found it necessary to<br />
pass responsibility for finding a successor to<br />
the committee.<br />
Secretary Mick Bowman suggested that I<br />
prepare details of how I produce the magazine<br />
– warts and all he said! ‐ and include<br />
these in the magazine. The following resulted.<br />
There seems to be a conception that you<br />
need to be a computer/design/layout/ desktop<br />
publishing wizard to produce <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong>. This is a fallacy. Just look at my first<br />
attempt in <strong>November</strong> 1999!<br />
The main requirement is time.<br />
After that, basic computer and word processing<br />
skills, and the willingness to perse‐
vere with a simple Desk Top Publishing program<br />
such as Microsoft Publisher are all that<br />
is needed.<br />
The committee will consider any suggestions<br />
from possible volunteers, to simplify the format<br />
of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> if this would make anyone<br />
more inclined to volunteer.<br />
Expenses are paid by the committee for outgoings<br />
in connection with the position,<br />
(correspondence, postage, telephone and so<br />
on) but time is given voluntarily to the Association.<br />
Details follow to give an idea of the role as I<br />
have undertaken it.<br />
Job description:<br />
To obtain material, and prepare, design, layout,<br />
and publish two issues of <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong><br />
each year to be printed and ready for posting<br />
early in May and <strong>November</strong>.<br />
Issues are now normally of 60 x A5 pages<br />
each, as this weight just falls within the next<br />
postage weight band and allows for event<br />
leaflets to be included. Future issues could, of<br />
course, be smaller. Magazine size restraints<br />
might alter under the proposed new Royal<br />
Mail rules which take sizes of envelopes into<br />
account.<br />
I have used Microsoft Publisher 2003 as my<br />
Desktop publishing program, but any similar<br />
program could be used providing the printing<br />
firm had facilities to print from it. If necessary,<br />
the magazine could be produced more<br />
simply by using, say, Microsoft Word.<br />
Technical requirements:<br />
• Computer, scanner, printer, internet connection,<br />
e‐mail account. Allow a maximum<br />
of , say 1/2 Gb of hard disk space<br />
per issue, although this can be cleared<br />
once the issue has been published.<br />
• Ability to use a Word processor program<br />
and, ideally, a desk top publishing program.<br />
<strong>48</strong><br />
• Basic typing skills to transfer handwritten<br />
or phoned items into text. (I am a two<br />
finger typist!).<br />
Timing - Continuously:<br />
• Collect and encourage material for <strong>Summer</strong><br />
<strong>Times</strong> from members – ideally by e‐<br />
mail, floppy disk or CD as these items can<br />
be easily pasted into the magazine. Encourage<br />
photographs where possible.<br />
• Keep or copy suitable relevant items<br />
about members or the school, from local<br />
Newspapers.<br />
• Where items are provided typewritten,<br />
scan these with OCR software to avoid<br />
having to retype into digital form.<br />
• Handwritten items, or items of too poor<br />
quality for scanning, to be sent ideally to<br />
the deputy Editor for typing and returning<br />
via e‐mail attachment. (This has not<br />
proved practical recently as deadlines<br />
have been slipping and items have arrived<br />
much nearer publication date. Also,<br />
with the deputy editor living in Cairo, e‐<br />
mail contact is not always reliable)<br />
• Keep a file of e‐mail comments received<br />
from members which might be used in<br />
future editions.<br />
• Glean useful snippets from new member<br />
forms which are copied to me, the web<br />
site discussion forum, the committee, and<br />
so on.<br />
• Reply to members who write with items<br />
and photographs. Some get a little<br />
stroppy if they don’t get an almost instant<br />
reply and seem to think I’m a full time<br />
paid employee!<br />
-Approx. 8 weeks before the<br />
agreed posting date:<br />
• Get out the files of potential items for the<br />
next issue and start to sort these.<br />
• ‘Remind’ committee members for their<br />
normal reports.
• ‘Remind’ any members who have promised,<br />
but not provided, articles etc.<br />
• Take the previous digital file copy of<br />
<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong> and update the cover<br />
details for the following issue.<br />
• Copy the last edition as a new file, and<br />
adapt and save it for the next edition.<br />
• Delete all old text but leave headings as<br />
a reminder of copy needed.<br />
• Start to prepare available contributors’<br />
photos and photos to accompany articles.<br />
• Start to enter items into the new edition.<br />
The layout will change constantly<br />
until the magazine is complete so do<br />
not concentrate on layout at this stage.<br />
• Check with Chris Found about advertising.<br />
Any to delete? Any to add?<br />
-Approx. 4 weeks before<br />
the agreed posting date:<br />
• The basic content of the magazine<br />
should be virtually complete.<br />
• Start at the front and work through the<br />
magazine making sure all headings<br />
and sub headings are in the same font<br />
(I use Verdana).<br />
• Start at the front and work through the<br />
magazine making sure all content apart<br />
from headings, is in the same font (I<br />
use Palatino Linotype)<br />
• Start at the front and work through the<br />
magazine making sure that all text<br />
paragraphs (not headings) are<br />
‘Justified’.<br />
• Make sure all photographs are in the<br />
correct place and there is no surplus<br />
‘white space’ round them.<br />
• Start at the front of the magazine and<br />
work through, checking layout and<br />
design, horizontal spaces between<br />
headings and the start of text, gaps<br />
49<br />
between words are correct, punctuation,<br />
etc.<br />
• Print a copy of the magazine and do an<br />
initial proof read. Amend, correct and<br />
save the corrected file as necessary.<br />
• Always keep a back up of the file in<br />
case of computer problems!<br />
• Contact the printer and make sure he<br />
has a window to produce the 800 or so<br />
copies, plus insert sheets we need.<br />
Envelopes also need ordering.<br />
• Print sufficient copies using your computer<br />
printer for up to 4 proof reading<br />
members, and post these off to them.<br />
Give a final date for their return.<br />
• Make any corrections revealed by their<br />
proof reading.<br />
-Approx. 2 weeks before<br />
the agreed posting date:<br />
• All proof read copies should have been<br />
returned and corrections made to the<br />
Master file.<br />
• Prepare any enclosure forms which<br />
need printing. (Member application<br />
forms, London Lunch forms, Scarborough<br />
Dinner forms, etc.)<br />
• Burn a CD containing the final files of<br />
the magazine (cover (4 pages); and the<br />
magazine itself.) Add a letter to the<br />
printer giving instructions of what is<br />
required, who will collect, etc, etc.<br />
Order envelopes for mailing.<br />
• Deliver the CD etc. to the printer and<br />
make sure the CD works in his computer!!<br />
Give him a collection deadline.<br />
• Make sure the Secretary has done a<br />
‘label run’ and arranged a ‘stuffing<br />
night’.<br />
• Advise the Secretary of the printing<br />
collection date so he can arrange collection.
50<br />
• Attend the stuffing night if possible and<br />
help to label envelopes, then put magazines<br />
and inserts in envelopes, which are<br />
then posted.<br />
• Give a big sigh, get a double gin, sit<br />
back, relax and wait for members reactions!!<br />
JOHN RICE’S CRYPTIC<br />
CROSSWORD - MAY <strong>2005</strong><br />
solution<br />
The following is the correct solution:<br />
Across<br />
1, 5 Oliverʹs Mount<br />
8 Tense<br />
9 Interim<br />
10 Oar<br />
11 Isherwood<br />
12 Robson<br />
14 Watson<br />
17 Ball games<br />
18 Bon<br />
19 Spinner<br />
20 Stool<br />
21 Music<br />
22 Laments<br />
Down<br />
1 Outdoor<br />
2 Inner<br />
3 Eye<br />
4 Smithy<br />
5 Materials<br />
6 Uproots<br />
7 Timed<br />
11 Inorganic<br />
13 Bullies<br />
15 Nonplus<br />
16 Amoral<br />
17 Besom<br />
18 Brown<br />
20 Sum<br />
Entries were received from Michael Kemp,<br />
Bill Kendall, Kneale Marshall, & Graham<br />
Rew. The prize goes to Michael Kemp who<br />
sent in the first correct solution.<br />
5<br />
9<br />
1 2 3 4<br />
7 8<br />
6<br />
CROSSWORD<br />
NOVEMBER<br />
<strong>2005</strong><br />
By Alan<br />
Bridgewater<br />
(1933—40)<br />
10<br />
11 12<br />
13 14<br />
15<br />
All clues in this<br />
crossword can be<br />
solved by referring<br />
to <strong>Summer</strong> <strong>Times</strong><br />
<strong>Volume</strong> 44<br />
(<strong>November</strong> 2003).<br />
Closing date for entries<br />
15th January<br />
2006.<br />
16
Across<br />
1 Maurice Gunter writes from here (8)<br />
5 Ken Gouldingʹs academic title (9)<br />
7 Alan Elliott played for many years for this<br />
cricket club (5,6)<br />
12 Peter Midgley writes from here (9)<br />
13 Bernice Morley played this part opposite<br />
Donald Helmuth (7)<br />
14 Ken Gouldingʹs nickname for Jack Speight<br />
(6)<br />
15 This hurricane hit Belize while Bernard<br />
Crosby was there (6)<br />
16 Lyndon Wainwright writes from here (8)<br />
Down<br />
2 Alan Elliott made 500 appearances for Scarborough<br />
RUFC in this position (6)<br />
3 Cloughtonʹs ʺfearsome strike bowlerʺ (9)<br />
4 He was ʺbowled Scrutonʺ for 43 against<br />
Ganton in the Hospital Cup Final (6)<br />
6 This is the correct spelling for the name of<br />
the Morris Dance (10)<br />
8 John Jarvisʹ parents once ran this hotel (9)<br />
9 Peter Robson took 8 for 26 against this team<br />
in the Hospital Cup semi‐final (8)<br />
10 They played their first gig at St. Peterʹs<br />
Youth Club in the 60s (9)<br />
11 Ken Goulding called F.Clarke this (8)<br />
MEMORIES ARE MADE OF -<br />
By Ray Lazenby (1935-40)<br />
The Bush<br />
The scrubby, thorny bush in the lower playground<br />
into which bullying seniors used to<br />
deposit minnows to which they had taken a<br />
dislike — or perhaps just for fun. I was never<br />
bushed, never knew anyone who had been<br />
bushed, and never saw anyone bushed. It was<br />
said that before I arrived at the school the<br />
practice had been banned, but we new boys<br />
nevertheless spent our first term in some trepidation.<br />
51<br />
Milk<br />
Third pints were distributed at morning break<br />
time on the drive just opposite the old girls<br />
entrance. I don’t remember how one qualified<br />
for it. I think we had to pay for it — a penny<br />
perhaps. I think it happened only in my first<br />
year. I remember John Clark and Alan Bridgewater<br />
among the distributors (surely we didn’t<br />
call them milk monitors, did we? — at secondary<br />
school?).<br />
The First Assembly<br />
Rank by rank again we stand. The hymn sung<br />
by the whole school at the first assembly of<br />
every new term. All other words have gone,<br />
but I still remember the tune.<br />
The Panoramic Photograph<br />
Taken in the lower playground every four<br />
years. I clicked for the 1938 version. There was<br />
a legendary tale of the school caretaker, Mr<br />
Popple, having stood at the end of the assembled<br />
school at which the camera began its<br />
travel, then running along the back of the assembly<br />
to stand at the other end and appear<br />
twice in the photo. But I have never seen any<br />
proof that it happened.<br />
‘Buffers’<br />
The pupils’ behind‐her‐back name for the<br />
headmaster’s secretary, Miss English — for<br />
two obvious and rather impressive reasons.<br />
Never said, of course, in the hearing of her<br />
younger brother, David, then one of the pupils.<br />
Biff Smith’s Cycle Accident<br />
His front forks broke on his way down the<br />
slope one morning. I think he broke his arm<br />
and was knocked about a bit, but it could have<br />
been much worse.<br />
Detention<br />
<strong>Summer</strong> term, in Tich Richardson’s room,<br />
windows wide open, I and oppo Denis Young<br />
suffering. Tich was called out of the room.<br />
Denis said words to the effect he had had
52<br />
enough and was going. And he went — out of<br />
the window. Tich either never noticed when<br />
he returned or thought better of bothering.<br />
There were no repercussions anyway.<br />
Joe Boss<br />
Henry Marsden was always The Boss until Joe<br />
Stalin impinged on our consciousness in 1938<br />
or ‘39, with phrases like ‘Joe for King’, going<br />
around. A few of us stood around the bottom<br />
of the slope having fun with variations of ‘Joe<br />
for....’ till we finished up with ‘Joe for Boss’,<br />
which is how ‘The Boss’ became ‘Joe Boss’ —<br />
and some years later just ‘Joey’.<br />
Other Nicknames<br />
Why Charlie Rice or Tarzan? Why Cush Tumbull?<br />
Why did we call Pete Cornish Casamac<br />
(spelling uncertain)? Why Biff Smith?<br />
Falstaff’s fooling<br />
At the dress rehearsal of Sam Rockinghorse’s<br />
(Charlie Rice’s) production of Henry IV part I<br />
Brian Razzal , as Falstaff, fooling around in the<br />
old girls entrance stabbed somebody in the leg<br />
with his sword — was it Ellis Peet? Great consternation<br />
and further consternation among<br />
parents when the dress rehearsal went on to a<br />
very late hour. But Brian was a fantastic Falstaff<br />
and a great loss to possibly the stage or<br />
literary world when killed in Italy in the war.<br />
He wrote a one‐act play about illicit diamond<br />
buyers, and he and, I think, Bernard Hepton,<br />
performed it in the Lecture Theatre one afternoon.<br />
How I came to have the script I can’t<br />
imagine, but I still have it somewhere.<br />
Fruit picking<br />
I also have somewhere the telegram that arrived<br />
at the 1940 fruit‐picking camp at<br />
Bromsgrove, from Marsden to Bradley — the<br />
school certificate result: “All through except<br />
(two names)”. The fruit‐picking was a hard<br />
grind, but all worth it for a visit to the Memorial<br />
Theatre at Stratford to see ‘Hamlet’.<br />
Field<br />
The slog up to the Field on Oliver’s Mount,<br />
particularly the last bit up the wood. Today’s<br />
kids don’t know they’re born!<br />
739 SQUADRON<br />
(SCARBOROUGH) AIR<br />
TRAINING CORPS<br />
On page 31 of our May <strong>2005</strong> edition, we appealed<br />
for a member who had telephoned<br />
about the ATC, but whose details had been<br />
mislaid, to get in touch again. John Cooper<br />
(1951‐59) from Edinburgh subsequently<br />
phoned. He had a long involvement with the<br />
ATC and he tells us the School’s Squadron<br />
remained strong until the late 1950’s. HSP<br />
Taylor remained CO until around 1957 when<br />
he retired. He had been CO for many years<br />
and had served in the First World War. Rumour<br />
had it that he had enlisted when underage.<br />
Cyril Poole who was an ATC Staff member<br />
and an <strong>Old</strong> Boy of the school, took over as CO.<br />
Cyril had been an Air Gunner during WWII<br />
and later ran a hardware shop in Falsgrave.<br />
When 313 (Scarborough and District) Squadron<br />
and 313 (Filey) Detached Flight both disbanded<br />
because of reducing members, the<br />
remaining members transferred into 739<br />
Squadron which then became the Scarborough<br />
Squadron. This operated from a hut at the<br />
Barracks – presumably at Burniston Road.<br />
Cyril Poole was CO and responsible for administration,<br />
whilst John Cooper was Cadet<br />
Flight Sergeant in charge of training. John<br />
Cooper subsequently became Cadet Warrant<br />
Officer, then joined the Civil Service and left<br />
the Squadron around 1961/62.<br />
In our last issue we mentioned ‘WINGS OF<br />
YOUTH’ – a book chronicling the history of air<br />
cadets in North & East Yorkshire written by<br />
OSA member Ray Kidd (1944‐49).<br />
Ray also includes details of the evolvement of<br />
the Air Cadet Organisation nationally.
In the sections about 739 Squadron a number<br />
of names spring to life and there are not many<br />
pages of this fascinating story which do not<br />
include photographs, both colour and black<br />
and white.<br />
Any proceeds from the sale of the book go to<br />
ATC charities for the benefit of cadets in the<br />
Central and East Yorkshire Wing.<br />
‘WINGS OF YOUTH’ is on sale at the Barbican<br />
Bookshop in York, the Yorkshire Air<br />
Museum Shop at Elvington, York, or direct<br />
from Ray Kidd. The price of the book to OSA<br />
members is £12.50 plus £2.60 p+p if applicable.<br />
As the proceeds all go to ATC charities<br />
after printing costs have been met, and<br />
cheques should be made payable to the Central<br />
& East Yorks Wing Welfare Fund.<br />
Ray Kidd can be contacted at:<br />
14 Danesmead Close<br />
Fulford<br />
York<br />
YO10 4QU<br />
Tel 01904 656525<br />
Email raykidd@acorps.fsnet.co.uk<br />
‘Wings of Youth’ - Extracts<br />
7 3 9<br />
Squadr<br />
o n ’ s<br />
original<br />
Warrant<br />
Officer,<br />
H a r r y<br />
Johnson<br />
joined the<br />
squadron<br />
at its inception<br />
and was<br />
always<br />
v e r y<br />
proud of<br />
the fact<br />
that he<br />
w a s<br />
53<br />
awarded his Cadet Force Medal in 1952. He<br />
believed that for many years he was the only<br />
holder of the award in Scarborough. Although<br />
a stickler where drill and discipline were concerned,<br />
he was always able to see the humorous<br />
side of one of his favourite tales. This<br />
related to a particular church parade when the<br />
squadron was heading for St. Columbus<br />
Church. “We were marching along Northway<br />
and the leaders were so engrossed in their<br />
marching that they marched right past the<br />
church. They turned up minutes late for the<br />
service, looking rather sheepish”.<br />
Masterpiece of ill-timing<br />
Ex‐739 cadet Leslie Hartzig recalls that one<br />
particular Friday night during the early days,<br />
the squadron assembled for parade in the<br />
lower playground as was customary (their<br />
Headquarters was the local High School). At<br />
this point the cadets were unaware of the fact<br />
that this was to be no ordinary parade just for<br />
roll call purposes, as the Regional Commandant,<br />
Air Commodore Sydney Smith was to<br />
inspect the squadron. It was particularly unfortunate<br />
for the small party of cadets who<br />
chose this particular time to liven up what was<br />
usually a dull part of the evening. As prearranged<br />
at muster, they quietly slipped away<br />
from the parade, entered the school building<br />
and made their way up to a laboratory, which<br />
was conveniently placed directly above the<br />
parade area. It also had a large window opening<br />
onto the playground. Suitably armed with<br />
homemade water bombs and having primed<br />
their colleagues on parade to panic at the appropriate<br />
time, they carried out their plot and<br />
threw the bombs down onto the parade. By<br />
this time the formalities were under way and<br />
all the cadets on parade stood fast, fearful of<br />
the repercussions that were bound to follow.<br />
Physics master Flying Officer Cyril Isherwood<br />
realised what had happened, dashed upstairs<br />
and caught the miscreants red‐handed. Retribution<br />
did follow with the culprits, one of<br />
whom was a prominent and high achieving<br />
pupil, being suitably punished.
Flight Lieutenant George<br />
Dove CGM DFM RAFVR(T)<br />
The aircrew with whom our cadets flew in the<br />
early days were brave and battle hardened<br />
men. One of our former squadron commanders<br />
was no exception, Flight Lieutenant George<br />
Dove was the Officer Commanding 739<br />
(Scarborough) Squadron from 1960‐70.<br />
He came to the ATC after<br />
distinguished service with the RAF. He was<br />
awarded the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal,<br />
which is second only to the Victoria Cross in<br />
awards for outstanding bravery. He was also<br />
awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal in<br />
recognition of his many operations, 40 in all,<br />
with Bomber Command.<br />
Whilst George was quite reticent about his<br />
flying days, his story is told in some detail in<br />
the WH Smith publication ‘The Last of the<br />
Many’.<br />
Liquid Gold<br />
739 Squadron has never been reluctant to face<br />
new challenges, particularly when tackling<br />
Duke of Edinburgh’s Award expeditions. Back<br />
in 1983 canoeing was tried for a change.<br />
After a busy preparation period of borrowing<br />
and repairing equipment, route planning and<br />
provisioning, the party of 6 finally set off on<br />
the first stage of the journey on 23rd October.<br />
Entering the River Derwent at Malton they<br />
paddled for a distance of 64 miles in 4 stages.<br />
They first headed down river to Stamford<br />
Bridge, finally reaching their destination after<br />
dark, having failed to estimate the time that<br />
negotiating the 3 weirs en‐route would take.<br />
Still on the Derwent, they next made for Bubwith.<br />
Day 3 saw the party paddling a distance of 17<br />
miles when they encountered the first tidal<br />
barrage near Drax Power Station before going<br />
past Goole to the village of Swinefleet. Much<br />
later, pulling onto the shingle beach before the<br />
Humber Bridge the party had traversed a further<br />
18 miles.<br />
54<br />
As with all DEA expeditions, their personal<br />
qualities, endurance and skills had been tested<br />
to the full and despite momentary misgivings<br />
of perhaps not making it, they had won<br />
through.<br />
The late Flight Lieutenant<br />
Gareth Beeley<br />
was the Officer Commanding 739<br />
(Scarborough) Squadron at the time of the<br />
above expedition. He was a champion of adventurous<br />
training activities and of Duke of<br />
Edinburgh Award expeditions. In addition to<br />
the many weekend camps that he organised<br />
for his cadets at Low North Camp, a former<br />
Army camp situated near to Harwood Dale, he<br />
did much to promote a wider interest in orienteering<br />
in the Wing.<br />
Aircraft Recognition<br />
From the beginning of air cadet activities, aircraft<br />
recognition has featured prominently in<br />
the training syllabus. In the early days it<br />
formed an essential part of the preparation of<br />
young men who were to volunteer for wartime<br />
aircrew selection. An abundance of recognition<br />
books was available in bookshops across the<br />
country, in addition to official journals and<br />
cards supplied from official sources. Apart<br />
from the opportunities that were frequently<br />
available by merely glancing skywards, much<br />
assistance was also given by the Royal Observer<br />
Corps.<br />
The Gordon Quaife Trophy<br />
A cadet at 739 (Scarborough) Squadron during<br />
the wartime years, Gordon Quaife went on to<br />
join the RAF where he flew Gloster Meteors.<br />
Sadly on a routine training flight in 1955, the<br />
aircraft crashed and Gordon was killed. A year<br />
later his mother presented a trophy in his<br />
memory. It would be awarded annually for the<br />
best all‐round cadet. Recipients of the award<br />
were Cdt Broadrick in 1956, F/Sgt Cooper in<br />
1957 and Cdt Porter in 1958. The following<br />
year the trophy was accidentally destroyed by<br />
fire and only by a massive stroke of luck, was it<br />
to reappear and be refurbished by the CO
55<br />
Flight Lieutenant Gareth Beeley. The trophy is<br />
still competed for annually and so Gordon’s<br />
name lives on.<br />
Wartime<br />
The Initial Training Wing was much seen on<br />
Scarborough’s sea front as trainee aircrew was<br />
introduced to the delights of ‘square‐bashing’<br />
(drill). Infrequently, a descending parachute<br />
would be seen, giving some young man the<br />
chance to fight again, possibly later that day.<br />
On the receiving end, Scarborough was the<br />
subject of enemy aerial activity which varied<br />
from such nights as the blitz when ETW Dennis<br />
& Sons the printers was gutted and a great<br />
deal of other damage inflicted, to nuisance<br />
raids as enemy raiders perhaps dropped the<br />
odd bomb as they passed overhead. Well over<br />
3,000 homes were destroyed or damaged. Such<br />
was the case one Sunday evening in September<br />
1941, when a low flying aircraft flew over the<br />
family home, followed quickly by two loud<br />
explosions. The first of these shook the house<br />
badly, demolished a pair of semis about a<br />
hundred yards away, whilst the second one hit<br />
the old Scarborough to Whitby railway line,<br />
tossing a section of rail into the nearby trees, at<br />
the same time killing a local person. In those<br />
days, people never complained about low<br />
flying aircraft, they were just thankful when it<br />
was ‘one of ours’.<br />
On the domestic scene, food rationing, the<br />
blackout, ‘sleeping’ under the bed downstairs<br />
when the siren was accompanied by ominous<br />
sounds of activity, changed the complexion of<br />
life at home. Being out‐housed to nearby<br />
homes when the siren went during school<br />
time, and time spent in the open when we<br />
shared classrooms with the many evacuees<br />
who came from Hull and Middlesbrough<br />
(18,000 were added to the local populace),<br />
were more attractive aspects of those years.<br />
My father, who was lucky to escape with<br />
his life while serving in the trenches in<br />
WWI, was too old to serve in this later<br />
war. Having a small grocer’s shop, he<br />
would have to take a double turn of fire<br />
watching both in our local<br />
neighbourhood and along with other<br />
shopkeepers in the area of his business.<br />
This sometimes lasted from dusk to dawn.<br />
Valuable time on a Sunday was taken up<br />
counting food coupons that had to match his<br />
sale of provisions (a requirement of the Ministry<br />
of Food).<br />
Although he was ably assisted by my<br />
mother, it was a laborious business.<br />
The vast amount of hours that many of<br />
the civilian population put in at that<br />
time was quite incredible and came on<br />
top of all the worries and anxieties of<br />
those times. Although so many people<br />
lived in much more dangerous<br />
surroundings, it was quite clear that<br />
successive generations had to be spared<br />
this kind of experience if at all possible.<br />
LATE NEWS<br />
Basil Melton (1932-37)<br />
has advised us of the deaths of George<br />
Wardell and of Alan Hill and provided the<br />
following notes, in the case of Alan, provided<br />
by himself.<br />
George Wardell (1932-37)<br />
a former class‐mate of Basil’s, died in September<br />
2004. George lived in Ramsey Street during<br />
his school years and afterwards worked in the<br />
Treasurer’s Department of Scarborough Council<br />
before moving on to ‘pastures new’. He will<br />
be remembered by some of the Scarborough<br />
members.<br />
Alan Charles Hill (1930-35)<br />
Alan was born on 22nd <strong>November</strong> 1919, in<br />
London.<br />
When he was 10 his parents moved to Scarborough,<br />
where he attended SBHS. On leaving at<br />
the age of 16 he joined FW Plaxton and Son<br />
Limited, Vehicle Body Builders, but his target<br />
was Duple Motor Bodies at Hendon, who were<br />
then the leading manufacturers of luxury<br />
coaches. By good fortune it was possible to
56<br />
take up an Indenture Apprenticeship with<br />
them, initially as Assistant Designer in the<br />
drawing office. WWII resulted in the company<br />
linking with London Transport, Park<br />
Royal Vehicles and others to form London<br />
Aircraft Production. This group manufactured<br />
710 Halifax bombers, and flight tested<br />
them from their airfield at Leaversham, Watford.<br />
Promotion led to Ian becoming Chief Engineer,<br />
Planning/Production for the front fuselage.<br />
With the return of peace, he became in<br />
charge of experimental work on ‘all metal’<br />
bodywork.<br />
A decline in Duple’s fortunes led Alan to<br />
join the Pressed Steel Company Ltd at Oxford<br />
as Senior Development Engineer.<br />
Subsequently a number of executive engineering<br />
appointments followed in design<br />
and manufacturing and many visits were<br />
made to car plants in the USA, and Europe.<br />
Alan became President of The Institute of<br />
Body Engineers, and President of The British<br />
Carriage and Automobile Manufacturers.<br />
Subsequently the Pressed Steel Company<br />
merged with The British Motor Corporation,<br />
then again with British Leyland .<br />
At 60 Ian grasped the opportunity to take<br />
early retirement.<br />
A NOTE FROM LYNDON WAINWRIGHT<br />
Some months ago Lyndon was commissioned by Harper Collins to write an instruction<br />
manual on ballroom dancing for non‐dancers. He was assisted by Lynda King. The hard<br />
backed book, with 256 pages and many photographs is called “Let’s Dance” and will be<br />
published around the end of October at £18.99.<br />
The Palm Court is a 3 Star Hotel with a superb central location and guaranteed free covered<br />
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Published by The <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Association, Telephone 01723 3654<strong>48</strong><br />
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