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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 />

parking, minutes to the beach, town centre, theatres, Spa.<br />

All 47 bedrooms en-suite with colour television, tea / coffee facilities, telephone. Ideal for the<br />

discerning conference delegate offering in-house conference facilities in the hotel's purpose built<br />

conference suite.<br />

The elegant Rosedale Restaurant offers full traditional English breakfast, Table D'Hote and A la<br />

Carte evening dinner. Adjacent is the Troutsdale Ballroom which is available for private functions<br />

or a conference suite seating up to 200 guests.<br />

Other facilities include Indoor heated Swimming Pool, Cocktail Bar, Lift to all floors, Weekend,<br />

midweek, weekly breaks all year, Saturday Dinner Dances, Christmas and New Year breaks.<br />

Rates: B & B £44.00 - £53.00


Published by The <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Association, Telephone 01723 3654<strong>48</strong><br />

Printed by Prontaprint, 5 Station Shops, Westborough, Scarborough<br />

Telephone 01723 367715

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