Summer Times: Volume 57, May 2009 - Old Scarborians

1 

Tene Propositum 

SUMMER TIMES 

The Journal of the 

Old Scarborians’ Association 

Members of the Association are former pupils 

and members of staff of 

Scarborough High School for Boys 

Volume 57 ‐ May 2009 

Old Scarborians’ Association 

Web address: http://oldscarborians.org 

Price £2.50

2 

David Pottage 

International Golf Course 

Architect 

A Complete Service 

from 

Project Appraisal 

through 

Detailed Design 

to 

Turnkey Development 

70 Whitesmead Road 

Old Town 

Stevenage 

Herts. SG1 3JZ 

Tel: 01438 221026 

Fax:01438 229271 

e-mail davidpottage@ntlworld.com 

Member European Institute of Golf Course Architects

1 

EVENTS DIARY 2009/10 

Please put the following dates in your diary NOW! 

GOLF - 

Thursday 14th May and Tuesday 28th July at North Cliff Golf 

Club. Golf Dinner after the July event. All welcome - not just golfers. 

Contact John Brinkler. 

BOWLS - 

Morning, Friday 28th August. Contact Chris Found. 

CRICKET– 

Afternoon, Friday 28th August, Scarborough Cricket Club, North 

Marine Road. A casual event. Just turn up near the Carlsberg 

Open Air Bar. 

AGM - 

Tuesday, 24th November 2009, 7.30pm. SCARBOROUGH RUFC, 

Scalby Road, Scarborough. (This is at the new club between 

Scalby and Burniston) at 7.30 pm. Contact Mick Bowman with 

queries. All Members are welcome. 

ANNUAL CHRISTMAS DINNER – 

Friday,18th December 2009, at 7pm for 8pm. To be held at the 

superb new facilities of SCARBOROUGH RUFC, Scalby Road, Scarborough. 

(This is at the new clubhouse between Scalby and Burniston) 

Price £25. All Members are welcome. Please use the 

enclosed booking form and book as soon as possible. Contact 

Mick Bowman with queries. 

Send items for the next Summer Times to Peter Newham, 

(address on page 2), as soon as possible please, but to reach him 

by 15th July 2009. 

Items sent by e-mail are of great help, otherwise please type or 

write, on one side of your paper and put in the post. 

COMMITTEE CONTACT DETAILS ARE ON PAGE 2

CONTENTS 

1. Events Diary 

2. Contents 

2. Committee Contacts 

4. Editorial 

5. Presidential 

6. Secretarial 

6. Treasurial 

6. Sporting Events 

7. From Here and There 

19. Obituaries 

23. Scarborough Then & Now IV 

24. Reminiscences of a very Bad Boy 

27. Apologia –The Editor 

28. Motor Cycle Racing 

29. Music at Westwood 

30. Annual Dinner 

30. The Fenby Plaque 

32. Rugby Club Appeal 

32. End of an Era. Scarborough RFC 

33. Leonard Norton‐Wayne 

35. The Staff Register II 

35. Recollections of School Plays 

38. Journey To Stalag Luft III 

45. Forge Valley Railway 

47. Newby County Primary School 

47. Weather 

48. OSA Dinner c.1951 

50. 1961‐2 Rugby 

*** 

2 

SUMMER TIMES 

PRODUCTION: 

EDITOR 

Peter Newham 

‘Badger’s Rise’ 

8 Southcrest 

Hunsbury Hill 

Northampton NN4 9UD 

Tel: 01604 767895 

E‐mail: the.newhams@btinternet.com 

DESIGN & LAYOUT 

David Fowler 

8 Christine House 

1 Avenue Victoria 

Scarborough. YO11 2QB 

Tel: 01723 365448 

E‐mail: dgfowler@farthings.org.uk 

*** 

EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 

2009/10 

PRESIDENT & TREASURER 

Chris Found 

Pinewood Cottage 

Silpho 

Scarborough North Yorkshire. 

YO13 0JP 

Tel: 01723 882343 

E‐mail: deefound@btinternet.com 

VICE-PRESIDENT & 

MEMBERSHIP SECRETARY 

Geoff Winn 

ʹBarmoor Houseʹ 

Scalby 

Scarborough 

North Yorkshire YO13 0JF 

Tel: 01723 362414 

E‐mail: winn.geoff@talk21.com

SECRETARY 

Mick Bowman 

9 Ilkley Grove 

Guisborough 

Cleveland TS14 8LLTel: 01287 634650 

Email: mjwb@supanet.com 

IMMEDIATE PAST 

PRESIDENT 

David Fowler 

8 Christine House 

1 Avenue Victoria 

Scarborough. YO11 2QB 

Tel: 01723 365448 

E‐mail: dgfowler@farthings.org.uk 

COMMITTEE 

ARCHIVIST 

Peter Robson 

Forge Villa 

High Street 

Ebberston 

North Yorkshire. YO13 9PA 

Tel: 01723 859335 

E‐mail: Peter.Robson@btinternet.com 

INDEPENDENT REVIEWERS 

Peter Berry 01723 362633 

Geoff Winn 01723 362414 

MAGAZINE ADVERTISING 

Chris Found 

Pinewood Cottage 

Silpho 

Scarborough North Yorkshire. YO13 

0JP 

Tel: 01723 882343 

E‐mail: deefound@btinternet.com 

PRESS & PUBLICITY 

Maurice Johnson 

Cottage Farm 

Foxholes 

Driffield YO25 3QF 

3 

Tel: 01262 470272 

E‐mail: dairymagic@aol.com 

SPORTING EVENTS - GOLF 

John Brinkler 

20 Barmoor Close 

Scalby 

Scarborough YO13 0RZ 

Tel: 01723 363655 

E‐mail: brinkler@downinguk.net 

SUMMER TIMES EDITOR 

Peter Newham 

‘Badger’s Rise’ 

8 Southcrest 

Hunsbury Hill 

Northampton NN4 9UD 

Tel: 01604 767895 

E‐mail: the.newhams@btinternet.com 

WEB SITE MANAGER 

http://oldscarborians.org 

Bill Potts 

1848 Hidden Hills Drive 

Roseville 

California 95661‐5804 USA 

Tel: +001 916 773‐3865E‐mail: 

osa@wfpconsulting.com 

Howard Acklam 01723 584061 

Colin Adamson 01723 364373 

Ron Gledhill 01723 362644 

Paul Gridley 01723 370806 

Colin Hurd 01723 870597 

Mick Peart 01723 864164 

HONORARY LIFE VICE- 

PRESIDENTS 

Frank Bamforth 01723 364432 

Jack Layton 01723 362455 

Doug Owen 01723 360960 

Peter Robson 01723 859335

OFFICERS’ REPORTS 

EDITORIAL 

Previous Editorials 

have partly consisted 

of my boringly predictable 

pleas for letters 

and articles from Old 

Scarborians, fuelled by 

a rather neurotic concern 

that each next 

issue of the Magazine would be struggling 

to justify the enthusiasm of Members 

in opening their twice yearly post 

from the Association. The last issue 

however not only demonstrated that the 

glass can be half‐full rather than halfempty, 

despite my innate pessimism 

(the result of many years in the legal 

profession,) but that, despite the School 

being closed some 35 years ago, there is 

life in Old Scarborians yet! 

The downside to this silver lining 

was however that its record 64 pages 

both strained the limits of what could be 

bound together within reasonable costs 

by the printers and certainly exceeded 

our preferred postage rate to the point of 

incurring considerable extra postage 

costs and thereby incurring the justified 

wrath of the Treasurer fighting to make 

our diminishing financial resources last 

out a few more years! 

I would not however wish this in 

any way to serve as a discouragement to 

correspondents, quite the reverse, it evidences 

the rude health of the Association, 

albeit that none of us are getting 

any younger, and, the annual Dinner 

apart, it is one of the principal ways of 

keeping in touch, particularly for those 

of us who may be somewhat technically 

challenged in relation to e‐mail and the 

4 

internet! Before too long however Members 

and the Committee may be obliged 

to take a view on finance and the future 

of the Magazine and its frequency, given 

that each half yearly issue costs, net of 

advertisements, in excess of £700 to produce 

and send out. 

In the meantime, apologies to those 

Members from my bumper postbag who 

may have had their contributions or 

requests for articles deferred. We attempted 

a reduced size type in this Issue 

(Palatino Linotype 8 for the initiated) in 

an attempt to shoehorn more material in 

but this was not really practical so we 

reverted to the usual 9 font. An upside 

to this in the minds of some readers may 

be the omission of my own more general 

background articles by way of previous 

filler to accommodate the increased flow 

and feedback from members. Photographs, 

which also tend to be hungry on 

space, have also been pruned, –– though 

how many of us now even marginally 

resemble our halcyon days 40‐50 or 60 

years ago! 

David F, on layout, is as ever called 

to perform ever‐increasing feats of prestidigitation 

to fit the constituent parts of 

this quart of material into a pint pot, 

although it is important to stress that 

this report to Members must certainly 

not be seen as any sort of disincentive 

for them to put future pen to paper (or, 

given the typographically challenged 

abilities of your Editor, preferably fingers 

to computer or typewriter) for the 

next or any other issue. These, and the 

feedback from previous issues, many 

correcting or clarify my previous infelicities, 

are in fact an interesting and

stimulating part of the role‐ (albeit E & 

OE) 

Peter Newham (1954-61) 

Editor 

PRESIDENTIAL 

I must admit that I submitted 

my Treasurial 

contribution automatically 

to the Editor but 

completely overlooked a 

Presidential contribution 

until I got an e‐mail 

from Peter saying “ How 

is your Presidency going? ” or words to 

that effect. I replied that I was just about 

coping, and he replied that what he 

meant was “ Where is the President’s contribution 

to Summer Times ?” 

So here it is ! 

The Association is still in good health 

and in the capable hands of your Secretary, 

Mick Bowman and the Committee. 

At our last meeting which was held at 

the new premises of the Scarborough 

Rugby Club we discussed the venue of 

the next Scarborough Dinner and, as it is 

likely that the Palm Court Hotel is stopping 

outside catering, we have decided 

to arrange the 2009 dinner at the Rugby 

Club as they now have excellent facilities 

with a fine banqueting room which 

can seat more than 200 guests. This will 

enable us to keep a better control of cost 

and, having attended the Club’s Annual 

Dinner last week I can assure you that 

the catering and room are ideal for our 

type of event. In fact the whole site is 

amazing and I take my hat off to the 

present management of the Club for 

having the courage to invest £3 million 

5 

pound to give Scarborough the best 

rugby facilities in Yorkshire. Your Committee 

have an excellent rapport with 

officials of the Club and a match is still 

staged on Boxing Day to play for the 

HW Marsden Trophy. 

As you know the Committee is very 

unhappy about the lack of support for 

the London Lunch and we are actively 

looking for a cheaper venue next year as 

it is clear that the cost is the main limiting 

factor with regard to numbers attending. 

We have a full range of activities in 

store for the coming year and full details 

will be shown in the May edition of 

Summer Times. I am delighted to tell 

you that all the Eric Sigston South Sea 

memorabilia displayed at the last Scarborough 

Dinner has been gifted to the 

Association and this can be inspected by 

arrangement with our Archivist, Peter 

Robson. 

Personally I am very much looking 

forward to the London Lunch which will 

be all over by the time that you read this, 

and the venue sounds superb. The Royal 

Horseguards Hotel which incorporates 

the old Liberal Club has just spent £18 

million on refurbishment and the reopening 

ceremony was attended by the 

Royal Horseguards in full ceremonial 

dress. Although the cost of the Lunch is 

high I am sure that it is going to be 

memorable. 

Chris Found (1951 - 1959) 

President

SECRETARIAL 

Gentlemen, 

A short but urgent appeal 

to you to continue 

supporting our events. 

Last year’s Christmas 

Dinner had 100 members 

booked in. The 

Golf and Bowls were also well supported. 

The London Lunch however 

continues to be a concern. Could you All 

take a minute and e‐mail me at 

mjwb@supanet.com to express your 

opinion of our attempts to keep the London 

event going. Why do you not attend? 

PLEASE let me know. The committee 

cannot make suitable arrangements 

while working in the dark. IT IS 

YOUR ASSOCIATION. HOW DO YOU 

WANT IT TO RUN? 

This year we are to hold the Christmas 

Dinner at the new Scarborough 

Rugby Club. A venue well worth travelling 

to Scarborough to see. Two golf 

competitions, a bowls event combined 

with an afternoon at a Yorkshire cricket 

match have been arranged. Details are 

on the front page along with the names 

of the organisers. If you wish to join us 

and cannot reach them let me know and 

I will make the contact. 

Please e‐mail your opinions and 

please continue to attend our functions. 

Mick Bowman (1954-61) 

Secretary 

TREASURIAL 

6 

We have actually achieved a surplus 

this year, mainly due to one large bequest 

and the generosity of a small number 

of members. The actual new subscriptions 

received were 13 which is a 

considerable improvement over the previous 

year. 

Our main expense continues to be 

Summer Times and the cost has risen 

due to higher postage costs, the knock on 

effect of the inclusion of more material 

and the inflation of printing costs. 

As usual all our events have been 

run at a profit and our other expenses 

continue to be minimal. The cost of our 

website is inflated as the cost to settle in 

dollars was £30 on making the payment 

of £66. I am exploring cheaper methods 

of settling this debt and if any of our 

American members are willing to accept 

sterling in return for sending Bill Potts a 

dollar cheque please let me know. 

During the year we changed from 

Alliance and Leicester to Lloyds TSB and 

this has made everything much easier 

for the Secretary and myself as we both 

now have access to branch banking. 

In addition I wish to encourage 

members to remember the Association 

in their wills, and this will ensure the 

Association’s longevity, if not their 

own. 

Chris Found (1951-59) 

Treasurer 

SPORTING EVENTS 2008 

CROWN GREEN BOWLS 

COMPETITION 

Chris Found writes…. 

The competition, which had to be discontinued 

at the semi‐final stage in September, 

was finally completed on Tuesday 

21 st October 2008 at Manor Road.

7 

In the semi‐finals Jack Binns beat Freddie 

Drabble fairly comfortably and Les 

Stockell was given a walkover by Tom 

Gofton, who was unable to travel over 

from Chesterfield. 

The final provided an excellent struggle 

and at one stage the score was 18 all in a 

competition up to 21, the lead having 

changed frequently throughout. In the end 

Jack Binns was able to win the last two 

ends to become our first Bowls champion. 

There were only four spectators at the final 

but it was a worthy end to our first competition, 

and the October weather was perfectly 

fine and mild and made up for the 

atrocious weather in which the earlier 

rounds were played. 

*** 

FROM HERE & THERE 

DAVE HEPWORTH (1951- 

1958) writes… 

One of the unforgettable moments of 

my School career was during an ATC gliding 

course. I had just made a very dodgy 

landing, and as I was pulling myself together 

for the next launch I was aware that 

my instructor, a fiery little Welshman, was 

muttering ʺDear Mr and Mrs Hepworth, 

the Air Ministry regrets to inform you that 

your son... ʺExcuse me sir,ʺ I said with 

some trepidation, ʺI didnʹt quite catch 

that.ʺ ʺOh itʹs nothing Hepworth,ʺ he 

growled. ʺI was just composing a letter to 

your parents in case you did another controlled 

crash like that last landing!ʺ 

The message hit home. I went on to 

qualify for my A and B certificate with the 

necessary three solos ‐ which I flew in a 

thunderstorm ‐ at the end of the course. 

It was high summer 1957. John Cooper 

and myself ‐ both corporals ‐ had been 

picked by the CO, dear old HSPT, to join 

the course at RAF Rufforth, near York. We 

couldnʹt believe it ‐ what a dream way to 

spend the summer hols. All we had to do 

was learn to fly... Getting there wasnʹt always 

easy though, as our weekend travelling 

coincided with a bus strike. There was 

much thumbing of lifts, including a 

memorable journey for me in a flour lorry. 

I emerged at the airfield in a blue and 

white uniform! 

I also managed to make a name for 

myself one day by deciding to use my initiative. 

Flying had finished, leaving myself 

and another NCO in charge of the control 

caravan on the grass in the middle of the 

airfield. So ‐ without orders ‐ we hooked 

our 15 cwt truck up to the caravan and, 

with me driving, towed it back to the hangars. 

Only later did we find out that a senior 

RAF officer was forced to abort his 

landing because two idiots were bowling 

merrily down the runway in a truck with 

bright yellow caravan behind. 

I later did some flying with the RAF 

gliding club at Driffield and, much later 

with the Yorkshire Gliding Club at Sutton 

Bank. John Cooper later rose to the rank of 

Flight Sergeant with the squadron and 

won a flying scholarship. 

By this time I had left school after A‐ 

levels and joined the Scarborough Evening 

News as a reporter, which Mike (as I 

knew him) Jefferson seemed to forget in 

his earlier piece on SBHS Old Boys who 

worked for the local paper. For the record 

Mick, I did four years bashing round town 

with notebook and pencil before moving 

on (with my proficiency certificate) to the 

Yorkshire Evening News, followed by two

years on the Sheffield Telegraph. I may 

not have risen to the giddy heights of 

some ex‐Old Boys, but I spent 24 happy 

years sub‐editing on the Daily Mirror, 

Sunday Mirror and Sunday People in 

Manchester. Post Maxwell I worked for 

12 years on the Express in London before 

taking early retirement in 2001. 

8 

DERRICK CRAVEN 

(1933-38) 

writes…. 

Thank you for an excellent Summer 

Times, and I was especially interested in 

the “Scarborough Then” article. I recall 

Saturday morning matinees in the 30ʹs at 

the Aberdeen Cinema with Tom Mix 

and Hopalong Cassidy. I think the entrance 

cost less than sixpence then 

though. My uncle was a projectionist at 

that Cinema during the period. I also 

remember the opening of the Open Air 

Theatre and the North Bay Swimming 

Pool. I lived in Tennyson Avenue at the 

time and used to get down to the pool 

early in the morning for a free swim in 

the new pool. The cross‐country run at 

the time was a run round the base of 

Oliverʹs Mount past the Mere. The holiday 

jobs in the 50ʹs were rather more 

interesting than my recollections of the 

30ʹs. My summers were invariably spent 

pushing a bicycle loaded with groceries 

round the town, especially up to the further 

parts of South Cliff. No multiple 

speeds in those days! I also did a stint as 

a telegram boy, which was just as tiring. 

As I lived in Tennyson Avenue, I 

spent a fair amount of time at or around 

Monkey Island. I can vouch for the fact 

that the summit was quite large. My 

father was an instructor with the Territorials, 

and I sometimes accompanied him 

when he took a squad up there. 

On a later matter, my son, Ian Craven, 

was a boarder at Archbishop Holgates 

School in the early 60ʹs, when I was 

in Africa. He played cricket for his 

school as a bowler. I know he played 

against Scarborough College and I seem 

to recall his mentioning SHBS. My father 

told me his name appeared in reports 

of matches in the Evening News, 

and I wonder whether anyone of that 

period remembers him. He has spent 

more than 30 years in the Far East. 

STEVE TAYLOR (1957-64) 

writes on the Staff Register... 

In connection with the Article in the 

November issue (page 22), the Register 

commenced in 1932, so Masters who 

commenced before that time would not 

be included. I am pretty sure that Messrs 

Bradley and Richardson fell into that 

category. When they retired in July 1958 

(the tallest and shortest Masters at the 

School) I am also sure that they were the 

longest serving members of staff. 

The Deputy Headship seemed to be 

granted according to seniority of service. 

Mr Freeman was next in line after 

Brad so it is likely that he too joined the 

School before 1932. 

Does anyone remember the pre‐war 

School photographs which adorned the 

corridor of the Junior School section at 

Westwood? If so one can also recall 

seeing the same Masters’ faces that we 

were familiar with in the 50’s, (Taylor, 

Potts, Smith, Brown, Rice, Freeman, 

Bradley, Richardson, Liddicott, Marsden) 

They had been teaching at the 

School before many of us were even

9 

born! I’m sure most of these names 

appear in the Staff Register. 

Incidentally I’m told that Mr Marsden 

was famous for conducting staff interviews 

in unlikely places – Alan Wilson, 

for example , was interviewed in the 

waiting room of Leeds City Station. 

(Ed. –– other sources have York Station 

as a rival venue!) 

NORMAN HOPKIN 

writes… 

I gave up on the Old Scarborians 

some years ago, for various reasons, but 

a continued participant in the Organisation’s 

affairs recently drew my attention 

to some material in the most recent issue 

of “Summer Times,” Page 18 to be exact, 

which greatly aroused my ire. 

The reminiscences of Marcus Woodhouse, 

whom I remember as Simon –– 

but certainly not as early as his starting 

date of 1953 –– included a reference to 

his languishing among the lesser brethren 

in the subject then known as 

“Scripture” (later “Religious Knowledge”, 

“Divinity” and “Religious Education”) 

Mr Woodlouse’s lowly placing in 

the subject may well have occurred, but 

his claims that this put him on a par with 

Peter Diamond (sic. this should be 

Dimond) and Norman Hopkins (sic, this 

should be Hopkin) cannot be allowed to 

pass unchallenged. 

I cannot speak for Mr Dimond, but, 

supported by my surviving School Reports, 

I must point out that I was always 

top at Scripture. The subject was always 

taught on the lines of “the History of the 

Israelites” and as the year’s star turn at 

History, ultimately leading to three university 

level qualifications, this was meat 

and drink to me. Gideon, Samson, Saul 

and David were more or less interchangeable 

with William the Conqueror, 

Elizabeth I, Pitt the Younger and Sir 

Robert Peel and the whole learning process 

seemed more like a hobby than a 

lesson to me. 

By all means treat me with mockery 

and derision over my pathetic productions 

in the manual dexterity such as Art 

and Woodwork for which my Chair, and 

Bill‐file must have given the Staff Room 

much innocent mirth and pleasure, but 

do not mock me in the realms of 

Acadème! 

JOHN HALL (1948-57) 

writes… 

As usual Summer 

times was read avidly 

from cover to cover 

immediately on receipt. 

Missing first names 

on photos: 

p.13 –– John Porter 

(was big in Air Cadets 

and last heard of teaching at 

Heriott‐Watt(?) University, John Storey, 

–– p.14 David Shaw. I counted no 

fewer than 11 pix of your good self in 

this issue: is this a record? p.57–– Bit of 

repetition there, I think (spotty 17 yearold 

+ Latin verb). Luckily it was not 

plagiarism, but cut‐and‐pasted from 

your own earlier text on p.32 If in future 

you need a proof‐reader.... 

Russian was also taught to GCE “O” 

level (by Mr Anthony) to some 6th formers 

in early 1960 (John Tesh, John 

Forster, myself and at least one other) 

after they had secured University

places. I think we all passed except possibly 

one. Somewhere I have a photo of 

Monkey Island (background to family 

beach photo). I climbed halfway up the 

front, got stuck and had to be rescued by 

my Dad. 

Will recount at a later date some 

experiences of holiday jobs and a School 

camp in Glen Nevis. 

RAY LAZENBY (1935-40) 

writes …. 

Thank you for excellent Summer 

Times. Re your footnote to Peter 

Massheder’s contribution (p16), 

ʺinexplicably ʹJoeyʹʺ ‐ see my contribution 

to Summer Times of November 

2005, p. 52. 

(Editor. I missed this. Ray then wrote–– 

“Joe was always the Boss until Joe Stalin 

impinged on our consciousness in 1938 or 

’39 with phrases like “Joe for King” going 

around. A few of us stood at the bottom of 

the slope having fun with variations of “Joe 

for…” till we finished up with “Joe for 

Boss”, which is how ”the Boss” became “Joe 

Boss”, –– and some years later just “Joey”). 

JOHN MANN (1958- 1963) 

writes … 

To Ray Lazenby`s 

question I raise my 

hand on two counts: 

firstly, I crossed the 

Valley Bridge by 

means of the girders 

underneath, secondly, 

I was accompanied 

by a fellow pupil and great 

friend, Andrew Todd, who went on to 

10 

do it on another occasion. We were accompanied 

by another friend called 

“Milky” with whom I have lost touch. 

The feat was performed in around 

1960, when Andrew and I were in the 

Fifth Form. It was only vaguely related 

to the location of the old school at Westwood 

as by that time we had all moved 

to Woodlands. However, the area under 

the bridge had been our “play zone” for 

many years and as a precursor the first 

section of the crossing had been traversed 

several times. (This may explain 

why my blazer was blacker than most). 

Our complete crossing arose from one 

such occasion: having gone this far we 

thought we might carry on. 

We went from north to south, and I 

think I was on the west. The girders are 

indeed a hollow box shape, with crisscross 

struts across the top. On the one 

hand these made walking difficult, on 

the other they gave you something to 

hold. (I think Andrew crawled) At the 

point where the diagonal sections from 

above joined the lower girder it was necessary 

to step out on to a flange which 

protrudes by about 3 inches at the base 

of the girder. This manoeuvre was a bit 

worrisome. 

Although I now look back on the 

crossing with horror I do not recall it 

being especially “hair‐raising” at the 

time (confirming what Ray suggests). In 

fact I think we were probably more concerned 

about getting caught (which may 

be why we didn’t talk about it very 

much). I suppose that the unplanned 

nature of the event helped a bit. It didn’t 

seem as bad as the maiden jump from 

the top board at the South Pool, but it 

was a hell of a lot dirtier. I did the Sydney 

Harbour Bridge walk some 40 years

later and that seemed a piece of cake in 

comparison. 

The Sydney Harbour Bridge walk/ 

climb has proved to be a great commercial 

success and one wonders whether 

or not a similar scheme could be introduced 

under the Valley Bridge by the 

creation of a catwalk? Then Ray would 

be able to fulfil a lifetime’s ambition! 

And it would be very popular when 

it’s raining‐ which is a bit of a downer at 

Sydney, where the walk is not down 

under! (Sorry I couldn’t resist that!) I 

suppose it might be difficult to get planning 

permission …. But this might be 

made easier if you had bingo on top of 

one of the towers …and perhaps throw 

in a bit of affordable housing for good 

measure. Alternatively, you could build 

a version of the Vasari Corridor hosting 

a modern art collection and link it to the 

Scarborough Art Gallery with an aerial 

footpath designed by Norman Foster. 

(The Vasari Corridor is on top of the Ponte 

Vecchio in Florence and links the Pitti Palace 

with the Uffizi) 

Thank you Ray for reminding me 

about all this. 

While I am writing may I say how 

much I enjoyed David Colenutt`s accounts 

of the school camps he attended. 

They evoked many memories. 

I think that the 1960 camp near 

Aviemore, my first, took place at the 

Whit half term. The weather was very 

varied: after persistent drizzle there was 

enough sun for many to suffer from 

sunburn. Then some other schools 

camping in the area were flooded out of 

their tents and had to take refuge in 

nearby Glenmore Lodge. We at SBHS 

were of sterner stuff and were trained in 

11 

the art of pitching tents by David’s father 

Eddie, our superb quartermaster. I 

remember a stock phrase: “nooooh yer 

can’t do that…..its not good campin`.” Our 

tent was on kitchen duty on the day of 

his scalding accident. It was so out of 

character that he should have chosen to 

rest his foot on the lid of a pan of nearboiling 

fat. And it was so unfortunate 

that the pan was such a good fit that no 

end of hopping around the tent on the 

other foot would remove it! Poor chap, 

I’m glad he enjoyed the whisky in his 

hospital porridge. 

I was also on the Glen Nevis camp 

and you didn’t miss much David on 

“the highlight climb”. I recall it been 

rather cloudy and not being able to see 

very much. The best bit was sliding 

back down on the snow on oilskins or 

whatever. I can’t remember whether or 

not the boat on which we had the trip to 

Oban was “The Waverley” (See Nov. 

edition of Classic Boats for picture p8). 

But I do remember that it had a bar on 

the lower stern deck. I recall observing 

through the thick smoke and through 

the bottom of a glass the entry of officialdom. 

There were no repercussions. It 

was in Oban that Doopher Hodgson 

walked into a gift shop and asked if 

they had any plaster of Paris Alsatians……to 

no avail. One highlight of 

this camp was David’s playing of his 

euphonium to which we sang songs old 

and new. 

In between these camps I think that 

there was one at Littondale in the Yorkshire 

dales. This was run by Mr Thomas 

(biology) and Mr Rose (classics). I particularly 

remember the transfer from the 

train to the camp site which was on the

ack of an open lorry with the kit. It was 

brilliant, so much for health and safety. 

Happy days, how lucky we were to 

have Masters prepared to put so much 

time and effort into these camps. I hope 

they enjoyed them too. 

ALAN GREEN (1937-44) 

writes… 

Re‐reading Vol. 56 Summer Times, 

what an amazing collection of people, 

masters, mistresses and pupils alike! You 

could not invent the Eric Sigston story or 

Old Boys such as Eric Fenby, SC 

Harland and the like. Beautifully compiled, 

and mercifully free (almost) from 

errors (among your 12 handsome photos, 

you are down twice (pages 43 and 55) as 

vintage ’51‐61 instead of ‘54‐61, which 

threw me momentarily! (Ed. As to my 

inadvertent over‐exposure see Apologia in 

this Magazine!) 

Miss Morley, sexy Canadian was 

always Bernice, and I never heard the 

Mabel label. Florrie Andrews was 

widely known as Fanny, ‐ bright red hair 

and mesmerising boobs, ‐ thick specks. 

One or two masters were quite gone on 

her, notably Norman Stoddard who 

gawped throughout morning Assembly. 

JOHN M WEBSTER (1944- 

55) writes... 

Here is an article which may be OK 

for the Summer Times. You are doing a 

really great job as Editor. Please keep it 

up as many of us scattered around the 

globe depend on it to keep in touch. 

Sorry that I shall not make the December 

Dinner this year. Best wishes to you and 

12 

all the Executive Team. 

What’s in a House? 

The first day at School and you were 

given a House! Yes, your very own that 

you would share with others, compete in, 

compete for, meet at, bat for, swim, box, 

play, run, jump and sing for, and if you 

were very good or lucky you would win 

for your House! ‐ But how did the system 

work?* How did you get allotted, 

given, get placed in that House in the 

first place? Was it random placement or a 

factor‐related decision by a higher being? 

Arnold, Carlyle, Kingsley and 

Ruskin, all are well‐known Houses to us 

all. We acknowledge also their distinguished 

literary stature and association, 

and it is just conceivable that some of us 

may well have read some of the scholarly 

works of all four House‐title holders. – I 

wonder how many of us have. 

The imprinting of our House and all 

that it stood for in our young brains was 

reinforced by periodic House Meetings 

with pupils that shared your House with 

you. Were these monthly meetings or 

only at the end of term? Our team spirit 

and, yes, even competitiveness, was reinvigorated 

by messages from our House 

Master. Mine, as I was in Kingsley, was 

Pike Richardson. 

As we stood or sat and listened to 

him describe the parade of excellence, or 

lament over its absence, our House Master 

was flanked by other staff who were 

head of sections (Tutorials?) within the 

House. These groups were given the inspiring 

names of A,B,C and D! I believe 

that I was in D, and my section leader 

was Spike Jones. The section met more 

frequently too, I think weekly on Fridays, 

perhaps? Kingsley D met in Room 4,

13 

Spike’s class room. However, I have no 

recollection of what occurred at those 

sectional meetings, have you? 

I do remember, however, that the 

top House for three years in a row in the 

early fifties was Kingsley. Wow! How 

did a House rise to the top? – What was 

the system of points, do you know? – I 

presume that it was an amalgam of 

sports and academic points awarded on 

the basis of relative degrees of excellence, 

but who did the statistics and 

worked the magic? 

Location, location, location is key, 

they say. Perhaps that is why Kingsley 

was tops, because we met in the Lecture 

Theatre! Arnold, on the other hand, had 

to be satisfied with the biology lab. and 

Ruskin the basement woodwork shop. 

Carlyle exerted its influence from the 

Main Hall no less, and with signal success 

much to the chagrin of Kinsleyites. 

There was a fifth House, a select few 

of you may remember, Morris House, 

the one with the white cap badge. Membership 

of this House was only transitory 

while you were in the Prep B and 

Prep A forms. Following this you were 

transferred to one of the big four. Wasn’t 

Cush Turnbull the last House Master 

of Morris House before its dissolution 

together with the Prep forms in 

1946? 

Perhaps the benign, jovial, masterful 

Joey was actually the benevolent dictator 

that decided everything, including 

your House. Does anyone know? 

Did the Houses survive the transition 

from Westwood to Woodlands? 

Sorry that I seem to be unaware of 

many of the facts, some forgotten and 

others I am not sure I ever knew. I was 

House Captain in my final year too, and 

I do remember that we were not top 

dog. 

*(Ed. Perhaps, for those who have read 

Harry Potter, there may have been the then 

equivalent of the Sorting Hat!?) 

JOHN FORSTER (1955-60) 

writes… 

Mike Mansfieldʹs 

recollection 

(ʺSummer Timesʺ, 

November 2008, 

page 30) of Mr 

”Gilmore” is almost 

correct. Iʹm fairly 

sure he was James 

(or Jimmy) Gilmour 

(Ed. The Staff Register confirms this) and 

think he taught English and was form 

master of 5L, the classroom at the southwest 

end of the Westwood building. I 

have an unusual memento signed by 

him, this came about as follows: in January 

1957 a magazine called 

ʺCompetitorsʹ Journalʺ ran a competition 

which asked entrants to unscramble an 

anagram of a line from ʺHamletʺ. This 

took me about an hour to work out, and 

I sent an entry in. The magazine, rather 

unwisely, promised a prize 

(unspecified) to every entrant who got 

the correct answer. I therefore sent 

in further entries, including one in the 

name of Mr Gilmour, giving the Westwood 

address. In due course he appeared 

in our classroom, brandishing a 

sixpenny Postal Order. The magazine 

had received lots of correct entries and 

had kept their promise! I owned up as 

the perpetrator, whereupon Mr Gilmour

signed the postal order and gave it to 

me. However, it had already been 

crossed, and could only be paid into an 

account in his name. I therefore kept it, 

and it sits to this day among my collection 

of postmarks and postal ephemera. 

One other trivial correction: the road 

which led down to Monkey Island and 

the Scalby Mills Cafe was (and is) 

Scalby Mills Road, not Scholes Park 

Road. The latter was a cul‐de‐sac which 

for many years led to an establishment 

known as Colleyʹs Cosy Camp. 

This caught fire spectacularly overnight 

sometime in the late 1950s, an event 

which I watched from my bedroom at 122 

Scholes Park Road. The camp was rebuilt 

but later demolished and replaced 

by housing. 

DR JACK BINNS 

writes …. 

Many thanks for your splendid work 

as Editor of Volume 56 of Summer Times: 

it was full of interesting reading and had 

something for everyone. However (!), as a 

former schoolmaster and addictive pedant, 

I was driven to seek out my red 

marking pen, still functional, though 

rusty with age. 

(Jack, for the few who are unaware, 

taught History at the School from 1962‐ 

1973 , subsequently becoming Head of History 

at Scarborough Sixth Form College until 

his retirement in 1992, and is well‐known as 

a local Historian and Author) 

From my own experience as an author, 

I know that personal names present 

pitfalls and there were several errors 

printed in 56: ––Trueman not Truman – 

– Norman Hopkin not Hopkins –– Bismarck 

not Bismark –– 

14 

Flather Pickers Leas not Flatter Pickers 

Leas on the Scalby Enclosure map of 

1777. The flather or flither girls were 

Scarborough women who walked amazing 

distances up and down the coast in 

search of ʺflithersʺ or limpets to bait the 

fishing lines of their men folk. Flather 

Pickers Leas is now called Scalby Mills 

Ness. 

As a historian Iʹm a tyrant on dates. 

The Boysʹ High School closed in 1973 not 

1974. 

Historically, it is perfectly appropriate 

that a magazine of the Old Scarboriansʹ 

Association should contain references to 

the High Schoolʹs illustrious predecessor, 

the Muni. The High Schoolʹs academic 

excellence, its then unfashionable emphasis 

on the sciences, the breadth and 

achievements of its extra‐curricular activities 

and the deserved esteem it enjoyed 

locally all derived originally from 

its Muni. ancestry, not to mention its architectural 

home. 

Some years ago I wrote a book called 

ʺHeroes, Rogues and Eccentrics: A Biographical 

Journey through Scarboroughʹs 

Pastʺ. Recently, I have added 20 new 

chapters devoted to more Scarborough 

men, women and families who, it seemed 

to me, ought to be better remembered. 

The only ʺold boy” was Sir John Wilson, 

whose accident in the chemistry lab. 

proved to be more of a gift to millions 

than a tragedy to a 12‐year‐old boy. But 

there are also chapters on two Muni. 

products: Storm Jameson and Sydney 

Cross Harland. 

You may not be aware that before he 

died in 1982, Sydney wrote his autobiography, 

which was published only privately 

in a few copies. It is wonderfully

frank and revealing and formed the foundation 

of my essay on his life and remarkable 

career. It contains an abundance of 

amusing anecdotes about his youthful 

delinquencies at the Muni. and his experience 

as a trainee teacher at Friarage school. 

(Incidentally, the statutory school‐leaving 

age was 12, not 10, when the Muni. was 

opened and not raised to 14 until after 

1918). A typescript copy of Sydneyʹs autobiography 

is in the biographical section of 

the Scarborough Room in the Central Library. 

Finally, I must take you to task for 

writing that John Uppleby (when was he 

knighted?) lived in Londesborough Lodge. 

In fact, the Boroughʹs first Town Clerk 

after reorganisation in 1835 bought the site 

of what is now the Art Gallery in 1844 and 

lived in Crescent House he had built on it 

until his death in 1856. His widow occupied 

the house until her death in 1881. 

Before it was re‐named Londesborough 

Lodge, the neighbouring mansion was 

called Warwick House. As a member of 

the Friends of the Art Gallery I had the 

privilege last year of giving a lecture on 

the history of the Art Gallery. Crescent 

House became the townʹs Art Gallery in 

1947. Thanks to the generosity of Tom 

Laughton, it has a magnificent collection, 

much of it not on public view, of a very 

wide range of pictures. Atkinson Grimshaw 

is number 13 in my second volume 

of Heroes. 

15 

and families with Scarborough connections. 

They include Atkinson Grimshaw, 

Storm Jameson, Winifred Holtby and 

Will Catlin. 

Winifred is one of my foremost heroines 

and I was one of a private party allowed 

to visit her home in Rudston a few 

weeks ago. I hope that my tribute to her 

will extend local recognition of her extraordinary 

talent and courage. Thank you 

for sending a copy of her precocious piece 

on the Bombardment. Incidentally, it was 

Winifredʹs pushy mother who sent the 

essay to the Brid. Chronicle. Winifredʹs 

experience of Queen Margaretʹs School 

had a profound and lasting affect on her – 

she left all her books to the school library. 

Atkinson Grimshaw is another of my 

favourite subjects, though like so many of 

his paintings, he remains a dark, mysterious 

and elusive figure. I have a book full 

of memories of the Boysʹ High School during 

its last eleven years of existence from 

1962 until 1973, but it is still too early to 

make them public, even if I could find the 

time and the publisher. At present, I am 

busy promoting my latest book, out this 

week, on the life of Sir Hugh Cholmley 

(1600‐ 57) of Whitby, for the pre‐Christmas 

market. 

(Ed. In view of the local interest and connection 

it is hoped to include short pieces on 

both Winifred Holtby and Atkinson Grimshaw 

when and if space permits.) 

DR JACK BINNS 

further writes … 

The second volume of “Heroes, Rogues 

and Eccentrics,” to be published, I hope, 

next year, contains 20 additional, brief 

biographies of outstanding men, women 

***

GORDON DEXTER 

(1948- 55) writes…. 

16 

I have only just come across the Old 

Scarborians after a first look at Friends 

Reunited. A pity because until 4 years 

ago I was still visiting my mother at home 

in Falsgrave as frequently as every 2 

weeks. So far I have only just got around 

to reading the last 2 magazines but they 

trigger lots of memories. I can add my 

own recollections which no doubt overlap 

a lot with previous contributions but may 

add a different slant. Perhaps they are 

even mistaken in some areas but it is all a 

terribly long time ago. 

The most important comment I can 

make is that I owe the School an enormous 

debt of gratitude. After the hated 

and frightening Hinderwell Junior School 

where I was even caned by the Headmaster 

on my very first day, I remember the 

High School as being nearly always 

stimulating and encouraging. At age 16, 

my not very academic parents thought 

that they were being helpful by fixing me 

up with a Post Office /Telecom apprenticeship 

through a manager friend. Joey 

actually came around to our house to 

persuade them that I should continue into 

the 6th Form and apply for University. 

My parents had neither time nor 

money for holidays but they did pay for 

me to join in all the School Camps for 

which I was eligible, Wensleydale, Loch 

Morlich, Western Highlands, Zermatt, 

leading to a lifelong enjoyment of the 

outdoors. In Bainbridge, I remember 

peeling enormous quantities of potatoes, 

accidentally knocking over the latrine 

cabin, farting competitions in the belltents, 

and washing(?) in the river with the 

crayfish. On the first Scottish trip I remember 

the early morning light in 

Aviemore and the smell of wood smoke 

as we set off from the station on the 7 

mile walk to the campsite and my first 

blisters. Next morning the tents were covered 

in snow and we moved into one of 

the huts where we were better able to 

observe the folk dancing of a group of 

girls from a Glasgow school. In Zermatt 

the campsite was not available for some 

reason and we ended up sleeping just feet 

away from the railway tracks. The station 

even had slot machines with chocolate! 

Again, washing or not in the stream, we 

were able to observe, like Ruskin, that 

German women had hairy armpits! Do I 

remember correctly that a certain Potts or 

Pitts was allowed to sleep on when we 

crept off the train at York on the return? 

In parallel with the school Camps, 

every school holiday involved some bicycle 

travel, usually with friends Peter 

Youle, David Beanland, Stuart Marriot. 

We camped with shared equipment, 

stayed in Youth Hostels, or even farm 

barns in the winter. A favourite was Elterwater 

in the Lake District. The twin Langdale 

Pikes were always known as Mount 

Blakemore! 

Although generally a bit of a swot I 

struggled to get by in Languages. After 4 

years of terror with Bon it is rather ironical 

that I was married to a German lady 

for 22 years and that half my relatives 

and friends are German. I was kept behind 

after school every day for a week for 

my stupidity over the Subjunctive form 

until my strong‐willed mother turned up 

and pulled me out in front of everyone. 

What humiliation! However I still feel 

quite offended when I see or hear it misused, 

particularly on Radio Four.

I was quite good in Maths, Physics, 

Chemistry and Geography but only 

ever got second place because Stuart 

Marriot always came first. This was 

very unfair because he was always top 

of everything else. My only bad report 

came in Biology in the first year though 

I never found out why. Perhaps it was 

because I was reluctant to collect leeches 

from the Valley pond, or smirked in 

THE SEX LESSON. 

After the sudden death of Cyril 

Isherwood, I was surprised to pass A 

Level Physics but went on to a Rolls‐ 

Royce apprenticeship, thanks again to 

Joey recommending me for a taster 

course, and then Nottingham University. 

There, one dark January evening in 

1958, Gerald Hinchliffe approached out 

of the fog and asked for a telephone. His 

wife was expecting a baby. He was 

working for the Education Dept. Much 

later when I became a Physics teacher 

after helping to bankrupt Rolls‐Royce in 

1971, we met many times when he came 

to look at his student teachers. 

That reminds me how different interview 

styles and times can be. At 

Rolls‐Royce I was asked to compare the 

writing of D H Lawrence and Graham 

Greene (Were they having a joke at my 

expense?) Luckily I had been spending 

part of my lunch hours in the library 

reading aviation magazines and could 

tell them that their new wonder material 

was titanium and could describe 

how aeroplanes develop lift. At Nottingham 

University I was only asked if 

Scarborough was any good for sailing. 

By chance in 1972 after sitting next to 

and chatting with a headmaster in a 

Derby theatre, I was offered a post 

17 

teaching Physics while just showing me 

around his new comprehensive school. 

The Library Theatre in the Round 

first introduced me to theatre. I remember 

that tickets were sent round to the 

6th Form when sales were not going too 

well. I remember too seeing a young 

Alan Ayckbourn playing the lead in a 

piece called ʺPrentice Pillar.ʺ 

I knew the Flax family quite well. 

We lived only 2 doors away and I 

swapped a model steam engine for a 

model yacht with Maurice. Mrs Flax 

taught me to swim and gave me my first 

25 yard (metre?) certificate. ʺJust get to 

the other side even if you crawl across the 

bottom.ʺ Later swimming lessons were a 

disaster and I won no more certificates. 

Dives were always belly flops and with 

the crawl I turned into a submarine, 

heading for the bottom. 

All sports and gymnastics were a 

disaster really. I hung from the wall 

bars like an electrocuted chicken, and 

when springing over the box or the 

horse I would land winded or on my 

head. A tall but very short sighted prop 

forward I would flounder from scrum 

to scrum in rugby and go home with 

bruised ankles and twisted ears. The 

best bit was the downhill run on a bike 

afterwards. In the 6th Form I took a 

book to the beach instead and if anyone 

missed me they kept quiet about it. 

In younger days we played on the 

beach after school with Dinky toys and 

model boats, at least until we moved up 

to long trousers. I remember an older 

boy (Sixsmith?) trying between tides to 

chip out a very large ammonite from 

rocks below the Spa. 

In later years we would tear around 

Scarborough and the cliff paths playing

chasing games on our bikes, ending up 

about 9pm at Leppingtonʹs chip shop 

off Falsgrave for a generous portion of 

chips with mushy peas and scraps for 

3d. Friday evenings were spent playing 

table tennis and trying to chat up the 

girls in the Youth Club of Albemarle 

Church. 

Sometimes we sat in the gallery of 

the church during Sunday evening services 

in order to help the girls with their 

homework. We were frequently admonished 

by the Reverend Vellam Pitts, 

particularly for our cynical attitude to a 

Billy Graham meeting in York which 

left the girls all weepy. 

A few more items for your Trivia 

section: 

A problem set by Zenna Potts when 

he must have had something more important 

than teaching classical Physics 

on his mind. I won 5 shillings for being 

the first to finish ‐ when 5 shillings 

would buy a mixed grill in the cafe on 

York Place : 

18 

ʺA farmer lets different numbers of 

identical cows into 3 identical fields. 

Field 1 is used up by 10 cows in 8 

days. 

Field 2 is used up by 8 cows in 12 

days. 

Field 3 is used up by 6 cows in ? 

daysʺ 

(He left it to us to remember that we 

had to allow for the rate of re‐growth of 

the grass. Apparently this is related to 

the wartime problem of deploying 

minesweepers most efficiently when 

waterways are re‐seeded every day by 

enemy aircraft. ) We also heard a lot 

about his wartime work on the ʺdegaussing” 

of steel ships to make them less 

vulnerable to magnetic mines. (I get it to be 

24) 

From my school tests of 12 year olds, 

ʺMr. Dexter pushed an odd blonde under 

waterʺ (Oblong? We had found the volume 

of an irregular object by the displacement 

method.) 

ʺThe male sex organ is called the pee 

nuts.ʺ (Seems like a fair alternative to 

me) 

Somewhere I think I still have some 

photos which I will try to unload on to 

the Archivist, if I can find them. I live 

alone now in a small cottage which is 

overloaded with items which ʺmight 

come in useful one dayʺ, but one day 

will certainly be thrown out by my ruthless 

daughter... 

It comes of being a wartime child. 

MAURICE SHORT(1938-42) 

writes... 

Another great Journal created for 

Volume 56 ‐ thanks to you and all the 

Committee. 

Having read the Scarborough Now 

‐ III, I paused at the item on Monkey 

Island which over some years created 

quite a discussion among Yorkshire 

and even Scarborough friends. First on 

its very presence, its name and also the 

fact presented and noted in your article, 

that cricket was played on top. I 

can remember going on the top of the 

Island and playing with my brothers a 

relative ʹsmallʹ game of cricket, which 

for me was a big game since I was only 

seven (1932). However, such was the 

impression it made on me that whenever 

a discussion arises I am prepared 

to ʹbattleʹ over any negative views of its

presence and its now historical presence. 

Such were my feelings for it that 

in discussion with my Mother she became 

so impressed by my concern that, 

unknown to me, she commissioned a 

Scarborough artist, Don Micklethwaite 

to paint a picture of it in its later years. I 

enclose a photo of the painting which 

may not be able to be reproduced in the 

Journal but you may wish to show it to 

other local members, or archive it; I 

leave its future to you. 

I was also interested to learn that a 

Register was kept of School Teachers, 

noting particularly the names of those 

female teachers replacing those High 

School Teachers called up for war service. 

I do remember one female teacher 

arriving at the school, the first of such 

replacements, whose additional out of 

school specialty was Fencing. I think I 

recorded the excitement not only among 

scholars but teachers too, with Mr 

Stoddard becoming very keen on fencing 

such that he ʹstoleʹ some of her available 

fencing teaching time during the 

lunch hour, much to the disgust of aspiring 

Olympians! 

As an aside I would be grateful if 

you could advise me where I could purchase 

a copy of the History of the Westwood 

School. I do recall that a short 

summary of it was included in a previous 

copy of the Journal some years ago, 

which I no longer have. I was particularly 

taken by its beginning involving a 

Northern response to the Governmentʹs 

apparent lack of interest in improving 

schools and education in the North. 

Little wonder there is still a feeling for 

UDI for Yorkshire! (Ed. The History itself 

is not in the Association Archives, but a 

19 

substantial extract appeared in the May 

2002 Issue of the Magazine) 

*** 

OBITUARIES 

Alec Gardiner 

(Died October 28 th 2008) – by Bill 

Redman 

Bill Redman (1946‐54) taught History and 

English for just over four years (1963‐67) at 

the Boysʹ High School under Alec Gardiner. 

To this day he still maintains that he used 

Jack Binnsʹ ʹOʹ level notes for his ʹAʹ level 

students and they were none the worse for 

that. This was his first teaching appointment 

after leaving industry. Bill was later Head of 

a secondary school in the Manchester area for 

twenty four years. Clearly he considers Alec 

Gardinerʹs influence to be pivotal to his professional 

development. The following is based 

on an appreciation of Alec which he gave at 

the Old Boysʹ Dinner in December. 

Memories of Alec Gardiner 

I once had the 

temerity to ask 

Alec Gardiner a 

personal question: 

‐ ʺHow did you get 

your Military 

Cross?ʺ 

I was wasting my 

time. I should 

have known better. 

ʺAh Bill. It was the motor bike really. By 

the way how are you getting on with the 

English ʹOʹ level retakes?ʺ 

This was so typical of Alec, a private 

man; he was not easy to get to know. A 

man whose accomplishments were not

up for discussion. There were members 

of staff who had worked with him who 

did not even know that he had been 

decorated. 

The conversation reveals Alec as a 

Head Teacher who knew exactly what 

he wanted from his staff, particularly 

recent appointments. All boys in his 

care should achieve their potential. I 

worked at the Boysʹ High School when 

Grammar schools were going out of 

fashion. Certainly the standard criticism 

of ʹlowerʹ forms not maximising 

their ability could not be applied to any 

school where Alec Gardiner worked. 

Alecʹs method of communication 

was somewhat bizarre by modern standards. 

I remember in my first week in 

the staff room taking coffee during 

morning break with the Headmaster 

next to me casually making conversation. 

This was repeated on many occasions 

during my probationary year. 

Had Alec no faith in me? Was he keeping 

a watchful eye on what he considered 

to be a doubtful appointment? He 

was, in fact quietly and unobtrusively 

making sure that I knew what was expected. 

The process was repeated with 

other colleagues. No written aims and 

objectives, no performance indices, the 

staff room at the Boysʹ High School was 

like a gentlemenʹs club ‐ civilised with 

value discretely but firmly stated. 

Alec was awarded 1st class honours 

at University College, London. He 

studied for a year before the war and 

returned to complete his studies after 

the war in, what I suspect, was just one 

more year. As he once said to me:‐ 

ʺIn those days I was a man in a hurry.ʺ 

The key to Alec Gardiner was his 

20 

Methodist faith which governed his 

attitude to life and his work. A man of 

high principles, somewhat dauntingly 

so, he was still so completely and generously 

tolerant, understanding and 

encouraging to those of a more secular, 

alcohol‐fuelled disposition. After I left 

Scarborough, I did not immediately 

find my career in teaching so pleasing. 

I was grateful that I had a man of Alecʹs 

stature to remind me what education 

was about. He was my yardstick as far 

as professional standards were concerned 

for the rest of my career. If I fell 

short of his exacting standards, at least 

I was aware of my shortcomings. 

At an Old Boysʹ Dinner a few years 

ago Alec asked me to call him by his 

Christian name. ʺYes, Mr Gardiner,ʺ was 

my reply. Total respect for the man 

with a certain amount of awe. 

‐ʹService to the Communityʹ this was 

how Alecʹs daughter described Alecʹs 

life. How right she was. 

‐Service to his country in time of 

war. Those who knew him only a little, 

could appreciate how uncongenial he 

would find all aspects of army life. 

‐Service to Education. Not just as 

Head teacher and administrator at the 

Boysʹ High School. Alec had a key role 

in the creation of a comprehensive system 

in Scarborough through his work 

as the first Principal of the Sixth Form 

College. 

‐Service as a Magistrate. At one 

time, I understand he was Chairman of 

the Bench for the North Riding. 

‐Service to his Church. Not only by 

his work at Westborough and Scalby 

Methodist Churches, was Alec a more 

than competent organist.

With all his talents, I always felt that 

Alec Gardiner could have gone further 

professionally. He decided to remain in 

Scarborough and it was very much his 

choice, devoting a life of service to the 

benefit of the community. 

Thank you ‐ Alec. 

(Ed. A further Obituary, based on that contained 

in the Scarborough Evening News of 

the 5 th December 2008, appears on the OSA 

Website, with other tributes) 

Vernon Houlden Charles 

77 years old, died 28th October 2008 and 

lived in Thornton Le Dale. Nothing else 

known. 

Ralph Green(1944-1951) 

( Contributed by Patricia Green) 

Ralph died on the 14 th August 2008, 

having had Parkinson’s disease for 19 

years. 

He was at the School until 1951 when 

he left to do his National Service in the 

I. Corps in the Canal Zone. After Egypt, 

he went to Christ’s College, Cambridge 

to read Modern Languages and had a 

long career in teaching at Berkhampstead 

School, The University of Saigon (as it 

then was) and Chester College (or University 

as it now is) where he was very 

committed to the training of teachers. 

He was very proud of his Yorkshire 

roots, and of his time at Scarborough 

High School, and had framed photographs 

of himself in the Cricket Team 

(1944) and as a very small member of the 

cast, probably again in 1944, in a production 

of Julius Caesar. I think he felt privileged 

to have been educated there. 

21 

Alan Green (1937- 44) also 

writes... 

My brother was an all‐round sportsman 

(soccer, cricket, rugger, tennis, 

squash, lacrosse, water polo, badminton, 

and cross‐country) ‐ one of five children. 

He and I were 5 years apart. Typical of 

SBHS pattern, a scattered existence away 

from Scarborough. He and I met infrequently 

in various exotic places (Port 

Said, Singapore, Saigon) also nearer 

home in Cambridge, Berkhampstead and 

Chester, but rarely in Scarborough. 

He had the nerve to turn down Wadham 

‐ Oxford (Joe Boss’s old College) 

despite HWM’s recommendation to (Sir) 

Maurice Bowra, in favour of Christ’s 

Cambridge (a lovely College but, still, 

Cambridge?) It probably took some years 

to overcome that particular handicap. 

A less frivolous handicap was the 

war years for Ralph, growing up in a 

period where Father was back in the 

Navy (at age 40!) for 6 years, my sister 

Dorothy pushed off into the WRNS in 

’43, and I followed in ’44 for 4 years in 

the RAF. Younger sister Beryl died, aged 

only 16, in March 1945, following nearly 

2 years with cancer of the liver, nursed 

throughout at home. Quite how our 

mother coped, running the shop, and a 

two acre plot, plus the remaining two 

children Ralph and Brenda Marjorie 

(now at Burniston), heaven knows! 

Ralph had a B.Phil from Liverpool in 

addition to his MA Cantab. but nevertheless 

was not an academic. Typically his 

final act was to donate his brain to the 

Parkinson’s Society for medical research. 

Not many of us would go down that 

road I guess. At School I note from the

1944 Scarborian that he earned his under‐12 

Cricket and Soccer colours and 

won the Junior School cross‐country 

championship the same year (I reported 

it as Sports Secretary ‘43‐44 and came 

third myself in the Seniors race) 

(Ed. His obituary in the Chester Chronicle 

further referred to his candidature as a 

Liberal for the two Parliamentary elections 

for West Cheshire in 1974 and at the first 

elections for the European Parliament, and 

to Ralph, “in everything he did, being 

known as an exceptionally able and enthusiastic 

teacher with a passion and dedication 

towards his students. His educational work 

extended outside his University work as he 

was Chairman of Governors at two local 

schools.”) 

Arthur Edwards 

(1944-51) 

22 

Peter Robson (1945-53) 

writes... 

Arthur Edwards died in Hull on Jan 

8th 2008 aged 74. Arthur was a keen 

sportsman and excelled at cricket. He 

was a left handed bat whose confident 

waddle to the wicket will be etched in 

the memory of all his contemporaries. 

The Hull Daily Mail reported his death 

as follows: “Arthur Edwards was one of 

the best known figures in East Riding school 

sport has passed away aged 74. Educated at 

Scarborough Boys High School in his home 

town, he taught at Hull’s Riley High School 

for 30 years from 1958 until his retirement. 

Edwards was also the chairman of the Hull 

Schools FA, the highlight coming in 1986 

when they reached the English Schools final 

against Middlesbrough. He also played 

cricket, as wicketkeeper batsman, for Hull 

Zingari and Old Hymerians. He was founder 

member of the Cave Castle Golf Club 

near his home in South Cave. He is survived 

by his wife Pam, a son, a daughter and three 

grandchildren.” 

Arthur was the first Chairman of the 

East Yorkshire Cricket Alliance and was 

Secretary of the Humberside Cricket 

Federation, going on to represent East 

Yorkshire as delegate to the Yorkshire 

Association. He and his non‐identical 

twin brother Bobby, who is also a member 

of the OSA, were the sons of the 

Registrar of Births, Marriages and 

Deaths, James Edwards, who presided 

over the office when it was located in 

Dean Road. 

Some years ago, on re‐joining the 

OSA, Arthur bequeathed his Junior 

School Cap to the archive. ‐ May he rest 

in peace. 

Trevor Pepper (1959-63) 

Phil Austin (1958-64) 

writes… 

I wondered if you were aware of the 

relatively sudden death of my old 

school pal Trevor Pepper who joined 

the High School in 1965 after taking the 

13+ exam. If you recall, those boys were 

”kept downʺ a year and we got to wear 

long trousers a year earlier as a year 

made a difference to hirsute limbs!! 

Although we did not meet until he 

joined the High School, I recall little of 

him at school but we were close friends 

outside of school, both living in the 

Peasholm area. He was nearly two years 

older than me, his birthday being in 

October whereas mine is in August. We 

explored that period of transition from 

child to adult together and I have very

23 

clear memories of some of our (mis) 

adventures together! 

Trevor contracted cancer of the liver 

and was extremely unlucky in that 

Christieʹs, in Manchester where he was 

treated, were convinced that this was a 

secondary cancer as primary liver cancer 

is extraordinarily rare. They 

searched for the primary source but 

ultimately discovered he was one of 

those extremely rare cases. He did not 

suffer too much and was fairly well 

until a fortnight before his death in 

early August. He lived in Romanby, 

Northallerton and leaves his second 

wife, Sarah and two daughters from his 

first marriage. 

I will try to get to the London Bash 

in March. Events in the nature of the 

above make me feel old, but when I 

meet up in London I feel quite young! 

Sola resurgit vita! 

*** 

SCARBOROUGH –THEN & 

NOW – IV 

“Scarborough Then” and “Scarborough 

Now,” although apparently popular 

features in the Magazine, appear in this 

issue in merged and somewhat truncated 

form, partly because of constraints 

of space and partly from the 

dearth of new material about present 

changes, either because little new has 

recently happened of note or your Editor 

has woefully failed to keep pace 

with local events. In particular 

“Scarborough Now” for an expatriate 

Editor who has been long removed 

from the Town and only infrequently 

revisits it is not the easiest of features to 

service, although it appears to be appreciated 

by other “foreign” readers, but it 

does remain dependent upon being fed 

by both local residents and the online 

Scarborough Evening News. The indulgence 

of local readers is therefore 

sought for occasional inaccuracies and 

incorrect conclusions and they are invited 

both to correct these and themselves 

submit material worthy of inclusion 

as being of interest to us outsiders. 

Whilst previously Scarborough Then 

has been a miscellany of separate snaphots 

of the Town as we remember it, 

this particular article focuses on the 

former Open Air Theatre, which so 

many of us will remember, and pilfers 

unashamedly from an article in the 

Scarborough Evening News last autumn 

and which perhaps bridges both 

the “Then” and the” Now.” 

During our youth many of us will 

have spent once at least shivering on 

damp and uncomfortable wooden seats 

with a weather eye on an overcast sky 

on a chilly summer evening at the Open 

Air Theatre, either as the unwilling accomplice 

to our parents or perhaps 

even voluntarily marvelling at the then 

sophistication of White Horse Inn, Rose 

Marie or other light operatic treats. 

Other Old Boys may even have been 

part of the cast, whether supporting or 

otherwise, and I seem to recall our esteemed 

former President, David Fowler 

confessing in this Magazine to his involvement 

(Mountie hat and all!) in 

Rose Marie, and the alleged amatory 

advantages of this in relation to 

(gullible) members of the opposite sex!

The Theatre was in fact built by the 

Corporation and opened by the Lord 

Mayor of London in 1932 as allegedly the 

largest Open Air Theatre in Europe since 

antiquity, with fixed seating for 5876 (the 

balance being deckchairs.) The house 

record, set in 1952, was nearly 9000 but 

an unofficial 11000 was later claimed for a 

free recording of It’s a Knockout in the 

1960’s. The site was leased by the Corporation 

to Scarborough Operatic and Dramatic 

Society, which selected and produced 

each annual show, hired principal 

professional performers and recruited the 

great many extras from among its own 

members. In its heyday it was a theatrical 

venue of national repute, mounting lavish 

musicals with casts, largely amateur 

of up to 200 with 2 performances per 

week in a three month season. 

Post‐war the Theatre was very successful, 

light opera giving way to musicals 

such as The Vagabond King, Song of 

Norway and Desert Song, followed by such 

favourites as Oklahoma. The sixties, with 

changing public tastes in entertainment, 

saw a rapid decline however and following 

a financial disaster in 1968 the Corporation 

leased out the site, and for 11 years 

It’s a Knockout games took place with increasing 

losses. In 1977 the dressing 

rooms and stage set building on the island 

were demolished and the seating 

removed. 

After all this time, plans are now underway 

to bring it back to life as part of 

the redevelopment of the North Side, 

with a planning application for a 7000 

seat Theatre to form part of the interrelated 

Sands Development. The plans 

include; –– reconstruction of seating terraces 

with a central area covered with a 

canopy –– dancing waters fountain in 

24 

front of the main stage, –– renovation of 

the old lighting tower –– new buildings 

for toilets, ticket sales and information –– 

new stages and pontoon –– temporary 

market stalls for certain events — and a 

new adventure playground. The original 

lighting control tower will be brought 

back into use, with the first floor being 

used for lighting while the ground floor 

will become a refreshments outlet. A 

metal framed stage will be constructed on 

the island. 

It is envisaged that the Theatre will 

host between one and three events every 

weekend during the main 12 week season 

with one or two smaller events during the 

week. Apparently issues with badgers, 

bats and great‐crested newts remain however 

to be addressed! Whilst official approval 

has been given last October by the 

Planning Committee, and works on the 

main construction contract have started, 

Easter 2010 has now been given as a completion 

date for opening of the Theatre, 

and it remains to be seen however how 

much it will once again resemble the 

memories of our youth, although it 

would be a great shame if the potential of 

this magnificent acoustical amphitheatre 

could not once again be brought back to 

life! 

*** 

REMINISCENCES AND 

CONFESSIONS OF A VERY 

BAD BOY 

John Liley (1949-54) 

writes... 

ʺYou really are a very bad boy, Lileyʺ 

barked ʺBonnʺ as he stumped along the 

corridor in his brown boots and well‐

worn dark blue suit, with me in tow. Iʹd 

often heard him say ʺbad boyʺ ‐ his regularly 

used phrase when a boy displeased 

him, but ʺveryʺ? I really must be in trouble. 

Bonn had been in full flow about declensions 

when, bored as usual, I silently 

stretched my arms forward. Bonn came 

to an abrupt halt and said “Who made that 

disgusting noise?ʺ Complete silence for 

several minutes. Bonn gradually swiveled 

his head towards me and delivered 

that searing, ʺMadmanʺ stare known to 

all whom he taught. Eventually, I 

cracked; ʺSir, I stretched my arms but I 

didnʹt make any noise.ʺ ʺYou gave a loud 

yawn, as you well know, Liley.ʺ ʺNo Sir.ʺ 

ʺYouʹll do four pages of copybook; two for the 

noise and two for lying.ʺ ʺSir, thatʹs not 

fair!ʺ ʺDo you want to see the Headmaster?ʺ 

ʺYes, sir.ʺ (Gasps around the room ‐ an 

offer made fairly frequently but never 

taken up). 

We arrived at ʺJoeyʹsʺ; Bonn gave a 

summary of the case for the prosecution 

and stumped off. ʺWell, lad?ʺ ‐ʺSir, I 

stretched but I didnʹt yawn. ‐ Itʹs not fair.ʺ‐ 

ʺLad, youʹre learning the hard way. ‐ Lifeʹs 

not always fair. ‐ Do your lines.ʺ‐ ʺYes Sir.ʺ 

I did them but, before doing so, learned 

from several ʺreliable sourcesʺ that John 

Pitts had given a loud yawn but hadnʹt 

ʺcoughed his crimeʺ. He denied it when I 

challenged him; I wonder if heʹs ready to 

confess. Where are you now, John? 

John was a fine boxer; indeed Yorkshire 

schoolboy champion. I had the misfortune 

to meet him in the preliminary 

rounds of the ʺLe Peton Cupʺ, which were 

always fought in the gym, with the finals 

taking place in the hall,‐ readers will remember. 

John gave me a real towsing but 

25 

a few days later, in our classroom during 

the lunch break, a few of us were risking 

detention by indulging in wrestling. I 

was delighted to secure John in a painful 

headlock from which he couldnʹt free 

himself. After refusing to do so for at 

least ten minutes, he eventually submitted. 

I released him and he sprang to his 

feet, white and trembling ʺRight. Iʹll see 

you in the fives courts after school!ʺ (I think 

heʹd been reading too many dramatic 

books). I knew his boxing skills would 

ensure me another beating in a ʺstand‐up 

fightʺ, so I settled for one victory each 

and declined! 

My closest friend at junior and grammar 

school was Tony Calcraft. We were 

almost inseparable (apart from a short 

interlude when Tonyʹs father had visited 

Joey to enquire about his sonʹs lack of 

progress and was advised to remove him 

from my bad influence!) We were 

ʺpartners in crimeʺ over a wide range of 

illegal, illicit or irregular activities. Tony 

remains convinced to this day that, on 

one occasion, Bonn believed Tony had 

snapped and intended to assault him. 

Tony and I were larking about on the 

stairway, ambushing each other and indulging 

in a modest amount of violence. 

Tony thought he heard me coming up 

and tensed himself round the corner with 

his hands ready to fasten round my neck. 

He lunged forward and found himself 

about to strangle the German master! 

ʺDonʹt be foolish, bad boy.ʺ said Bonn, 

brushing past my friend. Tony believes 

that, ever afterwards, Bonn used to eye 

him in a very strange way! 

We never missed rugby on the Mount 

playing fields (what a hike that was on 

games afternoons) but would appear for

cricket, then sneak off through the wood 

to the Foreshore for a coffee at the Harbour 

Bar or, if we had money and could 

convince the kiosk lady that we were old 

enough, see an ʺXʺ film at the Aberdeen 

Picture House. It was the height of nefarious 

pleasure to catch sight of a nipple in 

the fourth reel; how films have changed! 

Jeff Davisonʹs shotgun and cannons 

stories in the November Summer Timesʺ 

did display, as he said, the stupidity of us 

schoolboys; I can cap them with another 

much more dangerous instance. Tony 

and I had managed to procure an air pistol 

each (I canʹt remember how I got mine 

but I only had it until my mother found it 

in my bedroom desk and my father gave 

me one day to get rid of it). Tony and I 

adjourned to the Valley Bridge one lunchtime; 

he took position within the stone 

supporting arches on the school side of 

Valley Road and I took position within 

the arches at the other side. We then began 

to try to shoot each other! By some 

miracle, the only injury was to one of 

Tonyʹs hands, where one of my slugs had 

hit him. As Jeff said at the end of his 

piece, ʺThere really was someone looking 

after usʺ! 

The matter was not ended; the following 

day we were summoned to the Tuck 

Shop, where Mr. Bradley was serving. 

We were told to close the door then he 

admonished us at great length about being 

seen with guns in the valley. As we 

agreed afterwards, we thought that, without 

gun licenses and risking causing 

grievous injury, we were on the way to 

being expelled. Blessed relief ‐ Brad 

wound up with ʺPlaying with toy guns is 

not an appropriate recreation for a pupil of 

this school. Get out and donʹt do it againʺ. 

26 

At the time we had a laugh at his error 

but, several years later, I had second 

thoughts. Brad was Chairman of the Magistrates 

and would be well aware of the 

implications of a firearms investigation. 

To frighten two lads and warn them off 

playing with ʺtoyʺ guns achieved a good 

result all round. 

Mick Lesterʹs piece in the November 

issue brought memories; yes, we were 

obsessed with the Goons and, of all of us, 

Mick was the outstanding mimic of all 

the strange voices heard on the show. We 

would wander about, babbling goon 

phrases at each other, not only in school, 

but when venturing into the town. We 

certainly drew some strange looks; particularly 

as I was always addressed as 

ʺLilʺ ‐ not the most masculine of nicknames. 

It was derived from Les Brownʹs 

practice during a classʹs first French lesson 

of translating everyoneʹs surname 

into French. 

When oneʹs memory is stirred, it is 

strange how sometimes quite obscure 

things come back. When I applied to join 

OSA., David Fowler rang me and said 

ʺDo you remember cycling down Seamer 

Road after school to build a crystal set at your 

house?ʺ I wouldnʹt have remembered this 

but it came back clearly when David 

mentioned it. (Actually, David was a 

bright lad and already a bit of a ʺboffinʺ; 

he built the set and I looked on.) I seem to 

remember it worked whilst he was there, 

but never thereafter! 

To make some pocket money, I decided 

to take an after‐school job and became 

an errand boy at Charles Johnsonʹs 

Prospect Road butcherʹs shop. This entailed, 

amongst other things, loading up 

the front carrier on the heavy old errand

ike as far as it would go and cycling 

round a tortuous route delivering meat, 

eventually reaching Scalby ‐ a very exhausting 

exercise. One day, Gareth 

ʺGartchʺ Thomas who had made history 

by arriving at school on his own motorbike 

‐ an old, hand‐painted bright red OK 

JAP ‐ came up behind me as I set off for 

Scalby. 

ʺI live there. Iʹll give you a tow. Grab 

hold of my arm.ʺ Somewhat hesitantly, I 

did so and we shot off at what seemed a 

terrifying speed but was probably about 

20mph. Errand bikes are inherently unstable 

when loaded and difficult to control 

with two hands when being pedaled; 

when being steered with one hand at 

such a speed, they become positively 

lethal, juddering machines. I began to 

wobble from side to side, worsening all 

the time, not daring to let go and terrified 

to go on. Gartch seemed unaware of any 

problem and continued to accelerate; 

eventually my grip was torn free, I careered 

across the road into a bank, went 

over the handlebars and scattered various 

joints of meat over a wide area. I brushed 

down myself and the meat, re‐wrapping 

it where necessary, declined a further lift 

and completed my round. 

Some customers did complain to 

Charles Johnson about their meat and this 

may well have contributed to my losing 

the job. I took time off for the Air Training 

Corps camp and asked Bernard 

ʺBerbyʺ Jones to stand in for me. On my 

return I was told he was a great improvement 

and I accepted the offer of work 

getting in the harvest on the Johnson farm 

‐ the hardest work Iʹd ever done. I was 

lucky to escape injury when having my 

tow and was fortunate on more than one 

27 

motor‐cycling occasion afterwards. A few 

years later, when Johnny Corradine and I 

were North Riding Police Cadets, we tore 

around the town, he on his 1939 Velocette, 

I on my 1940 BSA, and had a few 

escapades best left unrecorded. 

In the course of time, I joined the 

Regular Police and settled down to the 

hard work and study I had neglected at 

School, eventually to achieve senior rank. 

When I was still young in service, I 

was on Northallerton Railway Station 

with my new wife, when I saw standing 

nearby me ʺBiffʺ Smith, the History master 

whom I had tormented during my 

scholastic career. I went over to him and 

we exchanged a few pleasantries; when 

he heard that I was in the Police Service, 

his reaction was to stare through his 

glasses long and hard for some seconds 

then, ʺI always expected you to be on the 

other side, Liley; still, I suppose it takes one to 

catch oneʺ! (He had a bit of a twinkle in 

his eye; ‐ I think he quite liked me really). 

My wife and I visit Scarborough quite 

often and, passing along the Tesco walkway 

towards town, we look down on the 

old school – sadly now very shabby and 

dilapidated. Almost every nook and 

cranny brings back a memory. This little 

piece is merely a small selection of the 

ones more‐or‐less fit to put into print. 

*** 

APOLOGIA - 

THE EDITOR 

In response to the several readers 

who, good‐ humouredly or otherwise, 

had perhaps assumed that the repeated 

photographs of your humble Editor in the 

previous issue (eleven in all, according to

one eagle‐eyed correspondent!) demonstrated 

the terminal stages of folie de 

grandeur on my part, I feel honour bound 

by way of mitigation, if not defence, to 

lay the responsibility fairly and squarely 

at the door of David Fowler, who performs 

minor miracles with the layout, but 

perhaps got carried away with filling 

every little space and illustrating as many 

of the features as possible. (It is not even 

that I am currently recognizable photographically 

or otherwise, even to my former 

contemporaries at School, unlike 

several of them who Dorian Gray like and 

quite undeservedly appear to have retained 

their appearance.) In appreciating 

that readers can have too much of a good 

thing I am hopefully more conspicuous 

by my relative visual absence from this 

issue! 

In saying that, David was obliged to 

perform minor feats of prestidigitation 

with the previous Issue when he was 

confronted by me by a sea of last minute 

material, albeit very welcome, and managed 

to shoehorn all of this into the maximum 

number of pages (64) allowed by 

the printers, and, without his expertise 

with layout I would have long sunk without 

trace. 

Postage and other costs remain a 

problem however, given the finite and 

diminishing funds of the Association, 

though hopefully this should not be seen 

to be a constraint on contributions from 

readers, but may reduce the number of 

pages to keep within the relevant postage 

bands. 

*** 

28 

MOTOR CYCLE RACING – 

OLIVER’S MOUNT. 

The memories of Ray 

Devonshire, the widow 

of Leslie Devonshire 

the formerly well 

known Old Scarborian 

and erstwhile President 

of the Association many 

years ago, have been 

further stirred in relation to Leslie following 

the article prompted by her in the 

last issue on his escape from School to 

ride on the last tram to run in Scarborough, 

and this relates to the early days of 

Motor Cycle Racing at Oliver’s Mount. 

Since 1947 none of us at School at 

Westwood in the lea of the Mount could 

escape the hornet‐like buzz from the circuit 

for what seemed an interminable 

time in the Summer, whether one actually 

followed the racing or not; the noise 

reverberated as far as Scalby, and a number 

of boys from the School even found 

temporary employment selling programmes, 

confectionary and ice cream to 

the considerable crowds who turned up, 

even, or perhaps because of bad weather, 

given its potential for excitement and 

danger! Motor Cycles and sidecars were 

frequently seen on the roads then and it 

was the aspiration of many a schoolboy 

to graduate from their own humble bicycle 

to the status of Geoff Duke with a 

Norton or a Gilera. 

The Circuit and the racing were 

largely the brainchild of Jack Plaxton and 

Scarborough and District Motor Cycle 

Club who prevailed upon the Council to 

provide the Circuit in 1946, partly as a 

welcome home event for troops returning 

from the War. At the first Races over

29 

12,000 spectators attended and soon Radio 

commentaries followed, with the 

likes of Graham Walker and later his 

son Murray! It became soon a national 

event and proving ground for World 

Champions such as Geoff Duke, Cecil 

Sandford, John Surtees, and Phil Read. 

Leslie Devonshire, a keen Motorcyclist 

and a leading member of the Club, 

was involved from the first, becoming 

Chief Marshal; Ray being the Results 

Recorder, and she recalls, until the construction 

of a proper office, the whole 

operation being directed from converted 

double‐decker buses. Television coverage 

followed later, presentations at the 

Spa being hosted by such then luminaries 

as Wilfred Pickles. 

The events were not however without 

their tragedies, notably John Hartle 

losing his life tragically in a collision on 

Quarry Hill in 1968. 

As a spectator sport it perhaps left 

something to be desired, particularly on 

those days when it was cold and miserable 

on the Mount, and as an uninformed 

schoolboy spectator one was 

much more dependant on the Radio 

commentary than the occasional peering 

over the shoulder of the adults inevitably 

standing in front of you trying to 

identify riders who momentarily flashed 

by, incapable of recognition. Sidecar 

racing was admittedly more dramatic, if 

only for the gravity‐defying proximity of 

the passenger to the ground on the 

bends! 

Those were the days however when 

most of the bikes were the well‐known 

British brand names and the public demand 

for entertainment was perhaps 

less sophisticated than it is now, although 

the races still continue ‐ 60 years 

on! 

(Ed. A detailed and heavily illustrated 

source of reference is “Oliver’s Mount‐ 50 

years of Racing”‐ Hillaby and Coupland) 

*** 

MUSIC AT WESTWOOD 

David Colenutt (1954-61) 

writes… 

Michael Lester’s letter and the article 

about the cellar jazz group prompted 

several memories about musical events 

at Westwood. As well as the personnel 

in the photo, Johnny Goodhead on 

trumpet, the younger Dean on alto sax, 

the elder Trott on tenor sax and the 

younger Trott (Howard) on piano and 

string bass were also active in the Scarborough 

jazz/dance band scene. 

During Arthur Costain’s absence, a 

temporary replacement was obtained in 

the person of a Mr Pidd, who was 

promptly nicknamed “Comrade” on 

account of his refusal to let classes sing 

“Rule Britannia”. This was on the not 

unreasonable grounds that, even in 

1955/56, Britain no longer did. (Ed.‐‐ Elgar’s 

Pomp and Circumstance “Land of 

Hope and Glory” also figured among his 

similar aversions!) 

As Michael recounts, he had taken 

over playing the piano for morning assembly. 

When Comrade Pidd learnt that 

a mere pupil was usurping this duty he 

assumed control only to demonstrate 

that he had studied piano under Les 

Dawson. A horrified HWM approached 

Bill Potts and my father with the words, 

“You two have got to do something or 

there will be a riot”. So for a few days

Zenna and Eddie took over the piano 

duties with Mr Pidd being told that, as he 

had a long way to travel (Filey?), he 

could come in on a later bus. Michael 

was able to resume playing after a short 

time. He also wrote out the tune and 

harmony which Mr. Costain had composed 

for ”O Brother Man” but had always 

carried in his head. I think we sang 

this at Speech Day under Michael’s direction 

as a tribute to Arthur. 

Finally, does anyone else remember 

the very battered cornet and single horn 

that sat in a cupboard outside the Lecture 

Theatre? In a moment on indulgence, 

Arthur let me borrow them (I said 

that I wanted to learn) but we, Martyn 

Fisher, Ewen Ritchie and I, used them to 

make noise at that night’s Inter‐School 

Swimming Gala as a way of encouraging 

our team. Cheering in those days was 

unusual and we were surprised that 

there were no repercussions, though 

there were for some High School girls 

who happened to be with us! 

*** 

ANNUAL DINNER 

The Annual Dinner of the Association 

took place on the 5 th of December at the 

usual venue, the Palm Court Hotel, with 

a record attendance of 93 Members 

(although 100 were expected) many of 

whom had travelled considerable distances 

for the event. The Dinner commenced 

with a tribute by Bill Redman to 

Alec Gardiner who died on the 28 th October 

2008. (see Obituaries) 

President Chris Found welcomed 

Members, extending from the oldest present, 

Bob Taylor (1926) to those from the 

30 

1960’s, and introduced the Speaker, Peter 

Redmond (1940‐1945) who provided an 

entertaining, if somewhat visceral account 

of his career after School, from the 

Army Medical Service to work as a Market 

Trader and subsequent Theatre 

administrator. 

The formal part of the Dinner concluded 

with an Appeal by Colin Rennard 

in respect of The Scarborough 

RUFC, after which Members enjoyed 

their usual convivial exchange of reminiscences. 

*** 

THE FENBY PLAQUE AT 

SCARBOROUGH SPA 

Following the further reference in last 

November’s Issue to the distinguished Old 

Boy Eric Fenby the following additional note 

has been received from Michael Lester 

(1949‐57): 

When Dr Eric Fenby OBE died in 

February 1997, it occurred to me that 

there was no memorial of any kind to 

him in Scarborough. After his six‐year 

association with the blind and paralysed 

Yorkshire composer Frederick Delius 

when he acted as his amanuensis, 

Fenby’s fame had spread throughout the 

musical world, but Scarborough seemed 

largely unaware of his importance. I 

wrote to the leader of the council, Mavis 

Don in July 1997 to suggest that the town 

of his birth should consider erecting a 

plaque or some other small memorial to 

his memory. 

The idea was well received by Mrs. 

Don (although her letter referred to Dr 

Fendley!) and the Chief Executive, John 

Trebble, and it was suggested by the Di‐

31 

rector of Tourism and Leisure Services 

that a plaque should be erected at the 

Spa; funds were found to make this possible. 

Eric’s widow, Rowena and the 

Fenby family became involved, and the 

project had the backing of the Delius Society, 

which promotes and encourages 

the performance and recordings of the 

music of Delius. 

There followed a period of several 

months in which nothing seemed to happen. 

The Delius Society had specifically 

asked to be kept informed of progress, 

but nothing had been heard, so I contacted 

John Trebble in early June, and 

was very surprised to hear that the 

plaque was actually in position, and was 

ready to be unveiled at a Civic Night at 

the Spa on 6 July. At such short notice it 

meant that no one from the committee of 

the Delius Society was actually able to 

attend. 

It seems that the person responsible 

for dealing with the arrangements had 

changed jobs, and although the Council 

had continued to work with the family, 

the link with the Delius Society and our 

request for information was overlooked. 

Despite all this, the arrangements 

went very smoothly at the Civic Night. 

The inscription on the plaque had been 

written by Eric’s son Roger, and the unveiling 

was done by Lottie, Roger’s 

daughter. Surmounted by a photograph, 

the plaque reads: ERIC FENBY 1906 – 

1997 ‐ AMANUENSIS TO DELIUS ‐ 

“Growing up to the sound of Spa Orchestras, 

he went on to find a unique place in 

musical history.” 

Present were Fred Standing (Mayor) 

and several Borough Councillors, Mavis 

Don, John Trebble, Roger Fenby and his 

sister Ruth, Lottie Fenby, Marjorie Halstead 

(Eric’s sister) and her husband Len, 

and Susan Halstead, (Eric’s niece). The 

Delius Society was represented by myself 

and Avril Powell, another Scarborough 

The plaque, being unveiled by 

Lottie Fenby, granddaughter of the late 

Eric Fenby. 

member. Unfortunately Eric’s wife, Rowena, 

was not well enough to attend. 

After the official unveiling there was a 

buffet, and at the Grand Civic Gala Concert 

that followed we heard music by 

Delius performed by Simon Kenworthy 

and the Spa Orchestra. If you enter the 

Spa through the main entrance and turn 

down the corridor to the left side of the 

grand staircase, the plaque is on the wall 

of the Grand Hall on your left.

32 

Eric Fenby is now also commemorated 

by Fenby Gardens at Sandybed, 

where the houses stand on the site of the 

former Lisvane School. 

*** 

RUGBY CLUB APPEAL 

Iʹm thrilled to report that, following 

my appeal at the Dinner, we are able to 

display at the new Clubhouse 3 brass 

plaques dedicated to H W Marsden, Alec 

Gardiner and the Old Scarborians Association. 

These will be proudly displayed 

alongside each other on the wall of 

plaques recognising the help given to our 

fundraising efforts by many individuals. 

I should like to take this opportunity 

to thank each and every Old Scarborian 

who has ʺput his hand in his pocketʺ in 

order to help meet the costs of this ambitious 

£4 million development. 

Old Boys who have not had recent 

contact with relatives and friends in 

town may be unaware of this project, let 

alone the fact that it has had to be COM‐ 

PLETELY SELF FUNDING! The Rugby 

Club has had no help whatsoever from 

organisations such as the National Lottery, 

Sport England, or Local and National 

Government. We can even report 

a lack of support from the sportʹs governing 

body at Twickenham! …. incredible 

but TRUE! 

I would, through the e‐mail list of the 

Old Boys Association, via this edition of 

Summer Times and through the OBʹs 

Website ask that an appeal is made to all 

former Boys High School pupils and staff 

to help us with the final one hundred 

thousand pounds of fundraising. The 

ambition of the Rugby Club is to offer the 

very best of playing, training, coaching 

and learning facilities to ANYONE in the 

Scarborough area who wants to learn the 

value of being part of a caring, active, 

ambitious and friendly collective of 

sports‐minded people. Our aim is to provide 

a trouble free, interesting diversion 

enabling healthy, sociable and focussed 

development of individuals in a team 

environment. 

I would be obliged if this message 

could be delivered throughout the Old 

Boys ʺnetworkʺ and naturally everyone 

associated with Scarborough RUFC 

would be thrilled to receive donations of 

ANY SIZE WHATSOEVER! The message 

is a simple one ... if YOU can afford 

to help improve the lot of the next generation 

... this is your opportunity. Many 

thanks to you all. I hope we are able to 

support this worthy venture to its conclusion. 

Colin Rennard (1960 - 1967) 

Current President Scarborough RUFC 

*** 

END OF AN ERA AT 

SCARBOROUGH RUGBY 

CLUB 

As readers may be aware, Scarborough 

Rugby Club has vacated its previous 

headquarters at Newby after 82 years 

playing there. They have moved to purpose 

built facilities further along Scalby 

Road next to the old Silver Royd playing 

pitches. 

Since the introduction of Rugby as 

the major winter sport at school in 1946, 

Old Scarborians have played a prominent 

part in the development of the Club 

both on and off the field.

33 

The following Old Scarborians have 

served as Presidents of the Club:‐ 

H W Marsden, Howard Acklam, Chris 

Found, Colin Hurd, Norman Hopkin, 

Colin Rennard, Barry Beanland, Alan 

Elliott, Peter Emms and Brian Shipley, 

Other Old Scarborians have been 

elected Captains of the Club:‐ 

John Smith (twice), Alan Elliott (three 

times), Barry Beanland (three times), 

Norman Hopkin, David Eade and Roger 

Gilbert (twice), Clive Burnard, Colin 

Rennard (three times), Martin Reed 

(twice) and Nigel Wilson. 

Colin Hurd and Norman Hopkin 

have both served as Secretaries of the 

Club. 

Many other Old Scarborians participated 

in the Club’s development by playing 

in teams at all levels. Some started 

their playing careers with the Scarborough 

Club then moved away and joined 

more senior clubs, and in some cases 

went on to play at representative level. 

Keith Poskitt captained England Schools 

19 Group before going on to University. 

David Hoyland went on to play for Morley 

and represented Yorkshire. 

Geoff Lee joined Wasps and represented 

Middlesex. 

Frank Ankerett joined Broughton Park 

and played for Lancashire. 

Jeff Dowson played for Wakefield and 

captained Yorkshire on many occasions. 

He also played for North of England and 

received the ultimate honour in Rugby of 

being selected to play for the world famous 

Barbarians Club. 

We are proud of their achievements and 

congratulate them all. 

Although Football was the major winter 

sport before the War, some Old Scarborians 

did play Rugby for the Club. Pride 

of place must go to Bob Taylor who, at 

97 years old, is the oldest surviving 

member. He first played for the Club in 

1928 and still frequents the bar on most 

Friday evenings and joins in as many 

social occasions as possible. Long may 

he continue to do so. The Boys High 

School closed down in 1973 and became 

part of the new Comprehensive arrangements 

in Scarborough. We are proud of 

our connection with the Rugby Club over 

the years and wish them continued success 

at their new Stadium. 

Colin Hurd (1952-1958) 

*** 

LEONARD NORTON-WAYNE 

Some personal reminiscences 

of Leonard Norton- 

Wayne 

by John Moorhouse 

A strict contemporary of Leonardʹs, I 

first made his acquaintance in a boxing 

ring! 

To explain, Mr Stoddard approached 

me in my first term in 1951, with a 

strange request: would I take part in a 

ʺfun, totally harmlessʺ, blindfold boxing 

bout with the other smallest boy in the 

School, as a brief interlude in the School 

boxing championships? I must confess 

that I was not exactly keen, but Mr 

Stoddard assured me that the other boy, 

called Leonard, had already said ʺyesʺ, 

and we would be wearing very big, soft 

boxing gloves. 

Touched by school spirit, I acquiesced. 

A practice was arranged in the

School gym, where I first met Leonard, 

who was perhaps ¼ inch smaller than 

me but (handicap or advantage) considerably 

heavier, I being slight to skinny. 

With no extraneous noise, I could hear 

Leonardʹs heavy breathing and plodding 

footsteps, whereas I doubt if he 

could have heard me as I glided and 

danced around. I certainly punched 

him more than he me, but neither of us 

was hurt, as far as I know. 

However, in the proper ring, in 

front of the whole School, my advantage 

was nullified; there was so much 

noise, shouting and laughter that I had 

no idea where Leonard was, nor vice 

versa. While I advanced, stylishly 

shadow‐boxing to no effect, Leonard 

was apparently swirling round, arms 

outstretched, like a dervish. Hence the 

great amusement at the unplanned contrast 

between us ‐ an amusement enhanced 

every time Mr Stoddard, as I 

learned later, poked either of us with a 

boxing glove attached to a pole. 

After a few minutes Leonard suddenly 

caught me full‐face with one of 

his swirling punches and I simply remember 

a sledgehammer hitting me, 

knocking me flying backwards. Truly 

knocked out, I was carried out of the 

ring. We were eventually warmly congratulated 

for putting on a great spectacle, 

which was lots of fun for everyone ‐ 

except me that is! I could easily have 

been brain‐damaged (perhaps I was!) 

Incidentally, Leonard later told me that 

Mr Stoddard had informed him too 

that the other smallest boy had said 

ʺyesʺ implying that he would have let 

the side down if he had refused. Despite 

this pugilistic start Leonard and I 

34 

became friendly classmates the next 

year in 2L. Iʹm sure he never accompanied 

me to a table tennis match, but one 

bitterly cold day in January I joined him 

fishing on the pier, exposed to a howling 

nor‐eastern. I was nithered, bored to 

death, neither of us caught a single fish, 

and I never joined him again. 

My next memory is of travelling 

with him by train to Oxford, in December 

1958, each for our one attempt to 

obtain an Open Scholarship, myself in 

Modern Languages, Leonard in Physics, 

I believe. Neither of us succeeded. 

On our way back we agreed that we 

ought to learn to dance, a social accomplishment 

in adult life ‐ fat lot of use itʹs 

done me though!! Together we faithfully 

attended lessons at the Roscoe 

Rooms, for a few weeks at least. However, 

when it came to dancing for the 

hour, once the actual lesson was over, 

we chickened out, preferring a game of 

snooker at the Club and Institute. We 

soon abandoned the dancing as an 

abysmal failure. 

Sadly that was where our paths 

separated, and I donʹt believe we ever 

saw each other again: a strange relationship 

then, littered with failures or disasters 

‐‐ (1) Leonard knocking me out at 

blind‐boxing; ‐‐ (2) both failing to catch 

any fish; ‐‐ (3) joint academic failure at 

Oxford; ‐‐ (4) neither learning to dance. 

In later life, I doubt if Leonard ever 

returned to the boxing ring ‐ I certainly 

never did. As for fishing, never again 

for me, but I know he continued, maybe 

throughout his life. Academically, I 

donʹt think either of us suffered in any 

way for our perceived failure at Oxford. 

Finally, I suspect that Leonard, like me,

never returned to the dance floor, but at 

least I continue to enjoy playing snooker! 

*** 

THE STAFF REGISTER – II 

Dipping once more at random into 

the formal School Staff Register which is 

included within OSA records discloses a 

further variety of names we knew (and 

loved?) although it does not in any way 

purport to be biographical, merely a record 

of qualifications, previous education 

and experience and dates of commencement 

and departure from the School, 

whilst regrettably the names themselves 

are also incomplete for the reasons explained 

by Steve Taylor in his letter in 

the current issue of the Magazine. 

Norman Stoddard 

Norman Stoddard, who was born in 

1912, joined the School in 1939 after education 

at Hulme Grammar School Manchester, 

and a B.Sc at Manchester University 

in Maths, with Physics as a subsidiary. 

A keen sportsman, he had also a 

Diploma in Physical Education from Carnegie 

College Leeds. Norman left in 1955 

to become Headmaster of Friarage 

County Modern School, returning in September 

1959. A resident of Throxenby 

Lane, Newby for many years, both his 

sons, Ian and Peter, also attended the 

School. 

Norman Gallagher 

After education at Bede Grammar 

School for Boys, Sunderland, Norman, 

who was born in 1929, graduated with a 

B.Sc in Economics from University College 

Exeter in 1952, followed by a Diploma 

in Theology from St Johns College 

Durham. He was appointed Assistant 

35 

Master at the School in 1955, leaving in 

1963 for a post at City of Bath Boys’ 

School. Any of us will remember him for 

R E, Hockey, the introduction of Tennis 

at Woodlands and School camps! 

Cyril Isherwood 

Born in 1906 and educated at Leigh 

Grammar School and Manchester University, 

where he attained both a B.Sc in 

Physics in 1927 and an M.Sc (Tech) the 

following year. Commenced at the 

School in 1935, tragically dying at 

Oliver’s Mount in October 1954. 

Leslie (Les) Brown 

After education at Barnsley District 

Holgate Grammar School, Les, who was 

born in 1909, spent 4 years at Sheffield 

University, where he gained both a B.A 

And a M.A in French. Several periods in 

France, Spain and Germany followed 

prior to his appointment to the School in 

1936. Military service from 1941 was followed 

by his return to the School in 1946. 

*** 

RECOLLECTIONS OF 

SCHOOL PLAYS 

By David Colenutt (1954-61) 

As with School Camps, my memories 

of school Plays go back a number of 

years before I had actually joined the 

School. This was, in part, because Eddie, 

my father, was business manager to successive 

Plays and I tagged along, front 

stage and back stage. 

Until the early 50’s Samuel Rockinghorse’s 

Shakespearian productions had 

been interspersed with Gilbert & Sullivan 

operettas directed by Arthur Costain. I 

think that my earliest play memory is of 

“Pirates of Penzance” with Gerry Hinch‐

36 

cliffe being a very nervous policeman 

setting out on the daunting task of arresting 

the pirates. 

Music also features in the next memory. 

The opening of “Twelfth Night” (If 

music be the food of love…) was to chamber 

music from behind a screen. Was it Mr. 

Costain on piano with Dick Bradley on 

cello? 

If my memory is correct, the first Play 

whilst I was a pupil was “The Tempest” in 

1954. Dick Haslem played a noteworthy 

Caliban and Prospero’s cave featured the 

dissolving gauze effect of seemingly solid 

scenery disappearing. 

1955 brought “Hamlet” with John 

Brinkler, in the title role, having a highly 

dangerous looking fencing match with 

John Rice, as Laertes. Miss Blakemore 

was a voluptuous Gertrude and Stuart 

Marriott earned himself an unfortunate 

nickname as his doublet was too short 

and his hose too tight. 

There was no play the next year as 

Samuel Rockinghorse had a serious illness. 

Rehearsals had started (one of the 

Henrys?) and it looked as though the 

traditional temporary stage in the corner 

of the Hall was going to be abandoned in 

favour of a ¾ round staging in front of 

the Hall platform. 

By 1957 “Ducky” Helmuth had rejoined 

the School to teach English and 

fancied doing the other big tragic lead, 

”Macbeth”, having been Hamlet when he 

was in the 6 th form. (OK, ‐ so I have 

never seen King Lear). It being the 

“Scottish Play”, considerable quantities of 

tomato ketchup were used, mainly by 

Lady MacDuff who developed a craving 

for it. I had become a junior stage electrician 

and spent performances clinging to a 

rack of dimmers (resistors) which were 

perched on a window sill. 

The only member of the stage crew 

with worse conditions was John Tesh, 

lurking under the stage with Chas’s massive 

reel to reel tape recorder, manfully 

trying to get the thing to start on cue for 

sound effects. Our Editor prompted from 

the comparative safety of “stage left”. 

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream” was 

the offering for 1958. As usual, it was the 

set play for “O” level Eng. Lit.. “Jake” 

Watson press‐ganged a considerable 

number of 5L into being “crude Mechanicals” 

and court hangers‐on, claiming that 

it would help with the exam. Samuel 

Rockinghorse took a back seat and Donald 

Helmuth directed. Jennifer Lincoln 

made the first of two appearances with 

the School, this time as Titania. John 

Tesh had more work to do with the tape 

recorder as much of Mendelssohn’s music 

was used; including the woodwind 

chords every time the magic potion was 

applied. It turned out to be the last time 

that the temporary stage was used by 

our school. Did Friarage use it after they 

moved to Westwood, or does it still lurk 

in a cellar at the west end of the building? 

Regrettably, School students would not 

now be allowed to undertake the erection 

and fitting out of such a structure, nor its 

frantic demolition on the Sunday morning 

after the last night. 

The first Play to use the purpose‐built 

stage at Woodlands was “The Merchant of 

Venice”. The electricians were elevated to 

a gallery high above the stage with twice 

as many dimmers to play with. It is salutary 

to realise that all the control gear and 

the 6 people needed to operate it would 

now be replaced by a computer. A de‐

sign fault quickly revealed itself. There 

was no ventilation in the roof of the 

stage and, with the heat from all the extra 

lighting, the electricians were roasted 

nightly. 

John Mann was a commanding Shylock 

with Michael Kemp as Antonio. I 

think that Gillian Lincoln, Jennifer’s 

elder sister, was involved but I cannot 

recall her role. Miss Woods would only 

let her “gels” be involved in nonexamination 

years and, I think, Gillian 

would have been in the lower Sixth that 

year. 

Someone persuaded our new head 

caretaker (Jack?) that it would be alright 

if the cast had a post‐play party in the 

room behind the library. Chas thought 

otherwise and we all had to see Joey the 

following Monday. 

With a permanent stage other dramatic 

events could be arranged. Sixth 

Form productions of “Waiting for 

Godot” and “Endgame” come to mind, 

and an inter‐house drama competition 

was organised at least once, though the 

latter featured “The Crimson Coconut” 

and other less intellectual fare. 

1960 saw Jennifer Lincoln return to 

the SHS boards as Rosalind in “As You 

Like It”. Pru Wood, daughter of our 

School Cook, Mrs Wood, was her companion 

and Gloria Tyerman and Gillian 

Justice completed the input from the 

girls’ school. John (Wes) Webb was the 

melancholy Jacques and Arthur Costain 

appeared as a minstrel, complete with 

mandolin. David Hartshorne was the 

“bad” Duke and, as the week progressed, 

made ever longer pregnant 

pauses before delivering the words 

“Thou diest”. 

37 

I got two boll..kings from Chas during 

that production. One was for writing 

a sub‐title, Gilbert and Sullivan style, 

“Done to a turn” on the lighting plot. 

The other was not my fault. When the 

School had been at Westwood, Milly had 

been relaxed about her girls coming for 

rehearsals as it was only a short walk 

to most of the town’s main bus stops. 

Woodlands, with the half mile, poorly‐lit 

path to Scalby Road, was another matter 

and, I think, Chas had undertaken to 

take all the girls home. 

After one rehearsal only three girls 

had presented themselves and Chas assumed 

that I had given the fourth a lift 

in my father’s car without telling him. In 

fact, Frank Barnish, the Stage Manager, 

had whisked her away on the back of his 

scooter. If I had thought of it first I 

would have done the same, so no hard 

feelings Frank. 

In this production, Sam R. made 

good use of the “dissolving gauze” effect. 

This was a gauze curtain across the 

stage on which the ”Court” scene was 

painted. Lit from the front it appeared 

solid only to disappear when the 

“Woodland” back scene was illuminated 

and the front lights dimmed. We got a 

round of applause for the effect most 

nights. 

“Julius Caesar” was the 1962 production 

with Wes Webb as Mark Antony, 

John Mollon played Brutus and Michael 

Bell was Cassius. Mike ?, as Caesar, got 

killed off in the first Act and then had to 

hang around to re‐appear as a corpse 

under a blanket for Mark Antony’s oration 

and then again for the curtain call. 

Have I made it up that a little substitution 

occurred some night to let Mick get

off early? Wes had no idea who would 

be under the blanket as the week progressed. 

The smoke effects of the final battle 

scene were drawn up to our gallery by 

the fans installed to keep us cool. To 

stop us coughing we reversed the fans 

only to start the audience spluttering. 

Chas was not amused and a compromise 

of leaving the fans off for the finale was 

agreed. 

Carol Wyvill (Andy’s sister), as 

Brutus’s wife, had to reveal her thigh to 

show the wound she had made to demonstrate 

her fortitude. Most nights she 

was fine with it (the Sixties had yet to 

swing much in Scarborough) but on the 

night that Milly was in the audience and, 

despite the make‐up being applied 

much lower down her leg than usual, 

Carol was really nervous. Fortunately 

her stage husband, John Mollon, was 

on hand to supply comfort! 

*** 

JOURNEY TO STALAG 

LUFT 3 

Frank Stephenson (1931- 

36) writes… 

In the August 1999 edition of 

“Electric Flight” I saw a review of a 

model of a Lancaster which was built by 

a man in the Isle of Wight in memory of 

his brother who was killed in the last 

month of the war flying a Lancaster of 

No 7 Squadron. The picture of this 

model stirred some powerful memories 

for me because I had been shot down in 

a Lancaster of this Squadron. I had not 

attempted to build a multi‐engined 

model but I was ambitious to have a go 

38 

at this Lancaster so I contacted this man 

and he gave help and advice, and after 

much effort I eventually succeeded in 

getting it built and flown. 

A reporter from the “Gazette & Herald” 

did a feature about this and the 

article was picked up by David Fowler, 

the Editor of Summer Times, who published 

it in the next Edition. At the time 

that I was in contact with David Fowler 

there was a notice in the Press concerning 

the murder of fifty escaping prisoners 

from Stalag Luft 3, and I mentioned 

to him that I was a prisoner there at that 

time. 

I must admit that making the model 

did bring back a lot of memories and not 

all of them pleasant. David talked about 

a love affair with the Lancaster. I would 

rather call it a love‐hate affair because 

the memory of this aircraft is one that is 

overridden with one emotion, ‐FEAR. 

Operating in Bomber Command in the 

winter of 1943‐44 was a frightening business, 

(well not just in 1943‐44 but that 

happened to be the time that I was 

around). 

Having left Scarborough High 

School with no School Certificate, I 

found a job as a shop assistant at Gibson’s 

in Westborough, tailors and outfitters, 

at seven shillings and sixpence a 

week. ‐ (this was the price of a decent 

pair of shoes in 1936). I was shortly 

joined by my friend Ken Railton who 

came with an equally undistinguished 

school record. We stayed there for two 

years and in 1938, when Hitler was causing 

anxiety and the RAF was looking to 

expand, we both responded to newspaper 

advertisements to join as Air Observers. 

We hadn’t a clue what they were!

We were accepted and early in 1939 

were called to start training, me at Ansty 

near Coventry and Ken at Desford 

in Leicestershire. When I arrived at Ansty 

I met another school friend, Albert 

Stone, who had played in the First 

Eleven for the school football team with 

Ken and me. 

Training was in the hands of civilian 

contractors, and we were civilians and 

would not be enrolled in the RAF until 

the successful completion of the navigation 

course. The Air Observer was 

taught dead reckoning, map‐reading, 

photography, wireless telegraphy and 

meteorology in the classroom and we 

flew in pairs in Avro Ansons for the 

practical application of air navigation 

with a civilian pilot and wireless operator. 

Oddly enough the ground instructing 

was done by retired mariners who 

were only accustomed to travelling at 

eight knots. What a lark! 

After passing the end of course 

exam we were now enlisted in the RAF 

as LAC’s and were sent on a bombing 

and gunnery course, bombing in Fairey 

Battles and gunnery in Hawker Demons, 

after which we were promoted to 

Acting Sergeant, Acting Air Observer. 

We were not at this stage given a brevet 

so imagine the consternation of Station 

Warrant Officers (old sweats all) seeing 

18 year old Sergeants arriving in the 

Sergeants mess (no flying badge). They 

had never seen anything like it! 

However after six months or 50 

hours flying we were confirmed as Sergeant 

Air Observer with the Flying 

Arsehole brevet and didn’t we strut our 

stuff. By now the war had started and 

we were posted to Squadrons where we 

39 

found that the air navigation was done 

by the second Pilot and Air Observers 

were regarded with some suspicion and 

introduced with great reluctance. In fact 

some were used as air gunners until 

Second Pilots were phased out. 

I was sent initially to 264 Squadron 

‐ Boulton Paul Defiants ‐ as an observer/ 

gunner but the Defiants were soon relegated 

to night fighter duties with W/op 

Air gunners. After a period as an instructor 

I went to 220 Squadron Coastal 

Command in 1942 flying in Boeing 

B17’s (Flying Fortress) on antisubmarine 

sweeps and convoy protection. 

Then another spell instructing at a 

Bombing & Gunnery School and in a 

moment of madness I applied to get 

where the action was. I soon wished 

that I hadn’t! In September 1943 I was 

posted to the Pathfinder Navigation 

Training Unit at Upwood and began to 

get to grips with REAL navigation. 

From Upwood I was posted to 7 Pathfinder 

Squadron, Bomber Command at 

Oakington near Cambridge where we 

were “crewed up”. Pilot was to be S/L 

Ken Davies, our first navigator F/O Dick 

Powell, second navigator F/Lt Frank 

Stephenson, Wireless Operator F/O Ken 

Marriott DFM, gunners F/Sgt Albert 

Grange and Sgt Roy Child and flight 

engineer was Sgt Ted Maugham. 

All of the crew with the exception of 

me and the flight engineer had previous 

experience in Bomber Command and 

knew all about night operations over 

Germany. My previous experience was 

with Coastal Command flying in daylight 

over the Atlantic, often boring but 

not frightening. Our first four weeks on 

the Squadron were spent in becoming

familiar with the Lancaster and practising 

navigation and bomb aiming. The 

navigation in PFF was very exacting. 

Bennett insisted on extremely high standards. 

Times at turning points and time 

on target had to be accurate to ONE 

MINUTE and the two navigators had to 

work together to achieve a result. Dick 

Powell worked out the flight plan from 

the forecast wind, and working back 

from time on target, set courses to get us 

there on time. He operated the GEE box, 

kept the log and plotted the whole program 

on the chart. My job was to operate 

the H2S and keep track of our position 

by a form of map‐reading from the radar 

image, and then identify the target and 

operate the Mk 14 bombsight. My early 

training as an Air Observer, when navigational 

aids were minimal, meant that 

map reading was a basic requirement, so 

it was a job that I picked up fairly 

quickly. 

Pathfinder Force were tasked to do 

45 operations and for this the whole 

crew were given a promotion one rank 

up, and after six trips and a satisfactory 

performance, a Pathfinder badge and a 

Certificate signed by Don Bennett the 

AOC. The casualty rate at that time was 

frightening. In 1943 Bomber Command 

lost 2841 aircraft and in 1944 it lost 3298. 

The total losses for the period of the war 

were over ten thousand aircraft and over 

55,000 aircrew killed. Of course we were 

not to know these horrific figures at the 

time but were soon confronted with the 

realities of night operations over Germany. 

With casualties running at 5% and 

rising, we were apprehensive—or 

should we say shit‐ scared. 

40 

The ultimate device was the H2S 

which allowed the operator to see a radar 

image of the ground whilst flying 

above or in cloud, which meant that operations 

could be carried out in very 

unfriendly weather conditions where 

night fighters would find it hard to attack 

the bomber. Targets could be identified 

and marked with coloured pyrotechnics 

even when obscured by cloud 

and for a while the advantage was with 

the bomber. But sadly the enemy succeeded 

in homing on to the radar transmission 

from the H2S and was able to 

home on to the bomber in a most unpleasant 

way. 

Junkers 88s were fitted with upward 

firing cannons and were able to creep, 

unseen, under a bomber and deliver a 

lethal blast at close quarters into the 

belly of the target. The actual armament 

consisted of three 20mm cannon and 

three 7.9mm machine guns. Each cannon 

fired 540 shots per minute while each 

machine gun fired 1,180 in the same 

time, so that a three second burst would 

launch 81 explosive shells and 177 heavy 

machine‐gun bullets in the direction of 

the target. As the guns were synchronised 

to give a narrow cone of fire the 

damage to the target aircraft was usually 

terminal. The Germans called it Schrage 

Musique...Jazz Music. 

We opened our account with a long 

trip to Stettin. It proved to be an easy 

one because we were only over the Fatherland 

for about one hour out of a total 

nine hour flight. 

Taking off at 11.30pm on January 5 th , 

I can remember the tension as the Lancaster 

gathered speed and lifted off the 

runway with ten tons of high octane fuel

41 

and four tons of high explosive bombs. 

Then we settled to our tasks. From 

Cromer on the Norfolk coast we flew 

north for about two hundred miles 

before turning on an easterly heading 

and crossed Sweden at twenty thousand 

feet and over the Baltic to the 

Danish island of Bornholm and then 

crossed the German coast heading for 

Stettin. Most of this was above cloud 

and demonstrated the magic of the 

H2S. Coastlines gave first class images 

and navigation was straightforward. 

The cloud over the target was broken 

and I was able to bomb visually and 

saw the bursts clearly in the harbour 

area. 

We were slightly early on target 

but because we were not being used in 

the role of pathfinders we got in and 

got out before any serious anti‐aircraft 

fire. Our skipper had told us that his 

intention was always to get the Lanc. 

as high as he could in the belief that we 

would always be safer well above the 

bomber stream. So we came back over 

Sweden at around 26,000ft and saw the 

Swedes fire some token shots well below 

us. 

Landing back at Oakington in daylight 

at nine o’clock in the morning we 

were tired but elated. ‐ A doddle ‐ If 

this was what ops were all about then 

we were up for it. 

Our next four operations were all 

to Berlin and in two of them we were 

heavily involved with night fighter 

attacks. The first saw us suffering severe 

damage and after jettisoning the 

bombs, limped home to an emergency 

landing. On the next occasion our gunners 

were able to shoot down one attacking 

fighter and possibly a second. 

A very dodgy trip where we finished 

flying out over Holland at under 

2,000ft. Once again the Lanc. was damaged 

and the crew were very shaken. 

Our tail gunner, Albert Grange, got a 

DFM and the next night we all went 

out in Cambridge and got drunk. 

The confidence that I felt after our 

first trip was swiftly evaporating. We 

were attracting so much attention from 

night fighters that we accused the skipper 

of flying with his nav. lights on. It 

was only later when we learned that 

the magic of H2S had a down‐side and 

that when it was working it was in fact 

a beacon that the fighter could home 

on to. 

Our gunners were very alert and 

were quick to spot the fighter, and 

from then they called to the pilot the 

required evasive action. Roy was excitable 

but Albert calm and unflappable. 

At the call to CORKSCREW to port or 

starboard, Ken put the Lancaster into a 

twisting dive and climb sequence that 

would beat any fairground rollercoaster. 

Dick and I in our curtained 

nav. compartment had to hold on to 

our gear to stop things flying about. 

Ken Davies was only a small man 

weighing less than 10 stones, but he 

could make the Lanc. perform aerobatics 

and he did not have power‐assisted 

controls. The gunners and pilot kept 

the intercom switched on during these 

encounters and we had to listen to 

their excited shouts and the rattle of 

Brownings, four in the rear turret and 

two in the mid‐upper. It was a very laxative 

experience.

At midnight February 19/20 th, eight 

hundred and twenty‐three aircraft, 561 

Lancasters, 255 Halifaxes and seven 

Mosquitoes set course for the city of 

Leipzig and the raid was timed to last for 

20 minutes, which meant that the 

bomber stream would stretch over about 

60 miles and would be easily located by 

the German radar and we knew that 

once located, the night fighters would 

infiltrate the stream and the bombers 

would be picked off. 

The raid got off to a bad start. The 

forecast wind that Dick used to plot the 

course was well out, and when we 

crossed the Dutch coast fifteen minutes 

early we had to turn back over the sea 

and lose that time before continuing. My 

job was to find our position, using the 

H2S and keep Dick informed so that he 

could work out the course and try to lose 

time so that we did not arrive at the target 

before our time of zero +10. Because 

of the following wind all the aircraft 

were trying to lose time by throttling 

back and dog‐legging There must have 

been some collisions and we felt the effect 

of slipstreams quite frequently 

As we arrived at the last turning 

point before the target and turned on to 

a south‐ westerly heading to run thirty 

miles down to Leipzig we were still 

three minutes early. It was in the middle 

of a dog‐leg that we were attacked. It 

had been evident for some time that the 

fighters were well into the bomber 

stream as the gunners had reported 

many combats and aircraft going down. 

At the time of the attack we were at 

around 26,000 feet and throttled back to 

about 120 knots when the cannon fire 

came through the floor. The navigation 

table was wrecked and fire and smoke 

42 

filled the aircraft and, while Dick and I 

were trying to find a fire extinguisher, 

Ken gave the order to bale out. We had 

rehearsed this moment many times and 

Dick and I had our parachutes always 

beside us on the nav. bench. I moved 

forward and handed Ken his parachute 

and got a thumbs‐up and then moved 

into the nose to find the flight engineer, 

John Woolston, poor fellow, on his first 

trip, standing on the escape hatch without 

a parachute. I clapped his chute to 

his chest, lifted the hatch, slung it out 

and shoved the F/E out into the night. 

Then I could feel Dick coming through 

and out I went. I remember thinking that 

I might have pushed the F/E to his death 

so I was relieved and happy to be united 

with him on the ground. 

Another thing that we had thought 

about was the hazard of leaving an aircraft 

at high altitude and falling through 

the bomber stream below. Whilst the 

Lancasters operated at 20,000ft and 

above, the Halifaxes were at around 

15,000ft. The prospect of getting hung up 

on a Halifax was frightening. So we had 

a clever plan. In free fall a man would 

take about three minutes to reach the 

ground from 20,000ft, so a delay drop of 

one minute would take us down 10,000ft 

through the stream and then open the 

parachute and fifteen minutes later land 

on terra firma. Now it takes some nerve 

to drop in free fall counting up to 60 and 

then pull the rip‐cord at three o’clock in 

the morning in subzero temperatures. I 

remember counting very quickly because 

after pulling the cord, it still took twenty 

minutes to land heavily on my backside 

in a frozen field 

Meanwhile the men, women and 

children in the city of Leipzig were on

the receiving end of three thousand tons 

of high explosive and incendiary bombs. 

Three of the crew did not make it. 

Two, Ken Davies and Ken Marriot are in 

the War Cemetery in Brandenburg and 

Albert Grange is commemorated on the 

memorial at Runnymede which records 

20,000 aircrew with no known graves. 

Seventy nine aircraft were lost on that 

operation with around 550 aircrew. Records 

show that 137 escaped by parachute 

and were to end up in POW 

camps, 413 died. 

The losses sustained by Bomber Command 

in the winter of 1943/44 meant that 

crews knew that the chances of getting 

shot down were greater than not. In fact, 

more than half the aircrew flying with 

Bomber Command perished. During my 

stay of 94 days on the squadron, we lost 

23 Lancasters, which was around our 

operating strength, so you could say that 

the Squadron was wiped out over those 

12 weeks. But it didn’t work like that. 

Replacement aircraft and air crew kept 

arriving and kept disappearing. The 23 

aircraft lost recorded 127 killed, and 34 

made prisoners‐of‐war. 

The good bits were the friendships 

and the bonding of men sharing a frightful 

time. Some may claim to have enjoyed 

it. I didn’t. I was afraid, although I 

tried not to show it. My strong memory 

is one of dread each time I saw that we 

were on the Battle Order, and the fear 

that I would not survive that night. Yet 

when the attack came I have no memory 

of fear, but I do recall that when I pulled 

the rip‐cord and felt the chute open, I 

shouted with joy and relief. I was going 

to survive. 

Escaping by parachute, not easy in 

the Lancaster, did not necessarily mean 

43 

salvation. A very hostile pair of German 

Home Guard (Volk Sturm) quickly collared 

me and made me very nervous and 

I was more than happy to be taken into 

custody by the military. The mood in 

Germany can be imagined; towns and 

cities being bombed and burned and 

civilian casualties, mostly women, children 

and the elderly were mounting. The 

RAF were labelled Luftgangsters and Terrorfliegers 

in the media and we knew that 

there would be danger if we were to land 

in a bombed area. In fact Hitler had encouraged 

the murder of aircrew captured 

after baling out and it has been estimated 

that one in twenty captured aircrew did 

not come home. Around five hundred 

were done away with and this was dealt 

with by the War Crimes tribunals after 

the war. 

Sitting on the floor of the kitchen in a 

farmhouse I was offered a drink by the 

wife of the farmer who was concerned 

that I was not abused by the Home 

Guard. She showed me a photograph of 

her son who was a POW in Canada. This 

act of kindness was heartfelt and I hope 

that he came back to her after the war. 

Under the eye of a German soldier, my 

eye was drawn to the inscription on his 

belt buckle. It said “Gott mit uns”. Well, 

well! 

Not what the RAF padre told us at 

the briefing before the raid. 

I was escorted to the local Police station 

where I was re‐united with Dick 

Powell, Roy Child and John Woolston 

(the stand‐in flight engineer) and from 

there to a Luftwaffe aerodrome at Falkenburg 

and there we were kept in the 

guardroom cells for a day. From there we 

were taken to Halle to catch a train to 

Frankfurt. We were now exposed to the

ustling throng of the German travelling 

public and they did not think 

highly of the scruffy, unshaven Terrorfliegers 

and we were glad of the protection 

of our escorts. 

But here we were the object of curiosity 

of a bunch of school children; 

fourteen year olds perhaps, who 

wanted to practise their English. I remember 

how smart and clean they 

looked and so normal, competing to 

ask questions about why we wanted to 

drop bombs on them. A difficult question 

to answer. 

Then by train to Frankfurt to the 

interrogation centre (Dulag Luft) and 

after a fortnight in solitary being dismayed 

to be confronted with a photograph 

of 7 Squadron! They seemed to 

know more about the Squadron than I 

did. It was here that I learned that the 

skipper, wireless operator and rear 

gunner had not survived and the feeling 

of euphoria was replaced by the 

feeling of guilt because we had survived 

and they had not. This feeling is 

still with me. After the interrogation 

we were housed in wooden huts until 

we were allocated to POW camps and 

then back on the train, this time a 

goods train, and the slow journey to 

Stalag Luft 3 Sagan, and after 3 days I 

was back within thirty miles of where I 

had been shot down. This journey was 

not without incident and when we 

finally arrived at Sagan late at night, 

dirty, unwashed and hungry and very 

relieved to be welcomed by a committee 

of seasoned prisoners, I for one felt 

safe for the first time for a month. 

The escape attempt took place just 

two weeks after our arrival and many 

44 

of the escapees had been inside for 

three years or more and were ready to 

take the chance for freedom. Me ‐ I 

was just glad to get inside that wire 

and wait for freedom. 

In January 1945 as the Red Army 

got close we were tipped out at nine 

oʹclock one night and trekked through 

the snow for ten days before being put 

on a goods train and taken to a camp 

near Bremen. POW camps were being 

evacuated from all over Silesia and we 

found ourselves sharing the trek with 

German peasant families with horses 

and carts, dogs and cattle all in miserable 

conditions with little or no shelter 

or food. One memory that I will never 

forget was that of an elderly woman at 

five in the morning standing in the 

snow offering hot drink from a bucket 

outside her cottage to Terror Fliegers 

and German refugees alike. 

The move to Bremen brought us 

into the area of air attacks from the 

RAF and USAAF and with my knowledge 

of the lack of precision of bombing 

from high altitude we thought we 

were out of the frying pan and into the 

fire. 

In early April we were evacuated 

again as the British forces got near and 

this time the weather conditions were 

good and we moved at a slow pace. 

Once again the roads were chocked 

with refugees, foreign workers and 

POWs and sadly many got strafed by 

rocket firing Typhoons of the RAF. 

One gathering of RAF prisoners were 

queuing for Red Cross parcels being 

distributed from a large white Canadian 

Red Cross truck when they were 

blasted, with over twenty killed. We

were not impressed. However the British 

Army caught up with us and the 

war was over and within a week we 

were flown back to England (in a Lancaster). 

The story of the escape attempt and 

the tragedy of the murdered prisoners 

is well told by Paul Brickhill in his book 

“The Great Escape”, and the tragedy of 

Bomber Command is examined objectively 

by Max Hastings in his excellent 

“Bomber Command”. In the preface to 

this book he quotes Keith Douglas: 

How can I live among this gentle 

Obsolescent breed of heroes and not weep 

Unicorns almost 

For they are fading into two legends 

In which their stupidity and chivalry 

Are celebrated. Each, fool and hero, will be 

immortal. 

Ken Railton died in a Wellington 

on the thousand bomber raid on Cologne 

on June 2 nd 1942 and Albert 

Stone was killed in a flying accident in 

a Blenheim in May 1941. 

The War Crime Trials charged 937 

Germans with causing the death of 

captured aircrew. 230 were executed by 

hanging, 245 got life sentences and 423 

got lesser sentences. It is estimated that 

six hundred thousand German civilians 

were killed in the bombing of towns 

and cities by the RAF and the USAAF. 

Most of these would be women, children 

and the very old, since men of 

military age would be away fighting 

the war. 

There was no campaign medal for 

aircrew who flew in Bomber Command. 

*** 

45 

Ken Railton (left), and Frank 

Stephenson (right)-1940 

*** 

FORGE VALLEY RAILWAY 

Whilst there is firm evidence that 

pupils, at least in the days of the 

Westwood School, travelled to School 

by train on the Scarborough to Whitby 

line, particularly when it was the 

Municipal School, (see features on Storm 

Jameson and Leo Walmsley in previous 

issues) it is perhaps less certain that 

what was rather inaccurately known as 

the Forge Valley Line similarly 

attracted travellers to and from School, 

but this would have been very likely 

prior to 1950, given the number of

large villages between Pickering and 

Scarborough. 

The Forge Valley Railway 

connected Pickering to Scarborough. 

Opened in 1882, it closed as long ago 

as 1950, and so now represents another 

vanished piece of industrial history, 

albeit without the spectacular visual 

charm of the Whitby line. It left the 

Malton to Whitby main line half a mile 

south of Mill Lane junction, and joined 

the York to Scarborough main line at 

Seamer junction, two miles from the 

town. 

The name Forge Valley came from 

a proposal in 1854 that, in conjunction 

with the proposals to build the 

Scarborough to Whitby Railway, 

another line would be built from 

Pickering via Ebberston, Snainton, 

Brompton, Wykham and Ayton, up 

the Forge Valley to Hackness and 

down the bank of the Cut to meet the 

proposed Whitby line at Scalby. The 

construction of the Scarborough to 

Whitby line was long delayed, and, 

when the Forge Valley proposals were 

eventually resurrected, objections 

were received, not least in relation to 

land owned by Lord Londesborough, 

and the promoters withdrew the Bill to 

have the line built. At the same time 

the increasingly monopolistic LNER 

applied for powers in respect of a 

direct Pickering to Scarborough line. 

With the withdrawal of the Forge 

Valley Bill it took them a leisurely 

further 9 years however to build the 

line. 

The line obviously did not pass 

through Forge Valley, but the Station 

constructed at West Ayton was named 

after it to avoid confusion with 

46 

another station – Great Ayton already 

owned by the North–Eastern Railway. 

Single track, with a passing loop at 

Snainton, the journey took on average 

some 50 minutes, which was perhaps 

hardly surprising given the number of 

intermediate Stations – Thornton 

Dale, Ebberston, Snainton, Sawdon, 

Wykham, Forge Valley and Seamer. 

Some 18 crossing‐keepers houses were 

originally constructed along the line, 

which also obviously affected the 

speed of travel. Given the need to 

reduce expenditure, avoid gradients 

and the populous villages it is 

significant that the route largely 

follows the Marrishes to their South, a 

little distance from the villages 

themselves. 

During the 1930’s onwards to 

nationalisation, the Service, which was 

Third Class only, was apparently 

operated by vehicles known as 

Sentinel Railcars, and with the 

expansion in popularity of country 

holidays a further innovation in the 

1930’s was the introduction of 

“Camping Coaches”, one at Thornton 

Dale and one at Forge Valley. 

Despite this, the line was not 

paying its way by the 1940’s, and, 

apart from a short commercial length 

which remained open for quarry 

traffic until 1954, it closed with only a 

brief mention of regret in the local 

paper, on the 3 rd June 1950. –– To 

School by bus or car became the only 

option thereafter! 

***

47 

NEWBY COUNTY 

PRIMARY SCHOOL- 

CHRISTMAS 1953 

With considerable reluctance/ 

embarrassment , because of his own 

inclusion, the Editor has been urged to 

include the attached photograph of the 

Newby County Primary School Christmas 

play of 1953 which appeared last 

November in the Scarborough Evening 

News, as it includes no less than 9 of 

the 1954 intake to the High School, 

though it is perhaps doubtful whether 

they will now recognize themselves, let 

alone be recognized by their subsequent 

Schoolmates, particularly with 

their Chinese attire, though the title and 

details of the actual play now elude me, 

and it may be that the whole episode 

was better left in obscurity! 

Those of the 1954 intake include (but 

not in any particular order) Anthony 

Wyvill, Jack Thompson, Peter 

Newham, Jeff Davison, Michael Corbyn, 

Michael Kemp, John Edwards, 

Tony Race and Martin Lavender, but 

no prizes for identifying which, and 

apologies for anyone omitted. Also 

featured are several subsequent SGHS 

Girls. 

*** 

WEATHER 

(Global or Yorkshire Warming?) 

“Now is the winter of our discontent 

made glorious summer by this sun of 

York” may perhaps be an appropriate 

soliloquy for Richard III, but it is doubtful 

whether it similarly reflected on the 

less than Salad Days of our childhood 

weather in the hardy North–East. 

But enough of these literary pretensions, 

–were the winters really harder, the 

snow deeper and the sea mists so much

more dense, damp and depressing,––or 

is this yet another legend put about by 

the Grumpy Old Men either anxious to 

promote how tough we were in the 

Good Old Days, in a sort of “barefoot 

down the Mines with a candle” syndrome, 

or, as Ken Dodd used to relate of his 

mythical hard childhood –– “When I was 

a lad, we took it in turns to have a bath: first 

the kids, then the whippets, then Granddad 

” – a sort of rose‐tinted spectacled view 

of life in reverse! 

Perhaps the best judges are those 

many Old Scarborians still living there, 

but generally, ‐ recollection, ‐ and possibly 

the actual physical evidence, supports 

the view that winters nationally 

were much harder in the Forties and 

Fifties, and this is particularly evidenced 

in the North‐East Coast. 

Tobogganing, for one, was virtually 

an annual pastime during these times, 

and not just for the odd day but for extended 

periods of time – Stepney Road, 

Throxenby Lane, Moor Lane, and, if one 

could face the interminable walk back 

up the hill, parts of Hay Brow, made for 

semi‐Olympic sledging for those who 

lived in the Newby/ Scalby area, as did 

the fields around Hutton’s Farm leading 

to Throxenby Mere, whilst there 

were many more gentle slopes for the 

tyro elsewhere in the town. 

Neither was it unusual for it to be 

reported in the Scarborough Evening 

News that the villages on the Moors, 

both in the Whitby and Pickering directions, 

were frequently cut off, often for 

several days. It all seemed very exciting 

when one was young, though it is difficult 

to recall ever being physically unable 

to get to School, or worse –– (or 

48 

perhaps better!) the School being actually 

closed. 

Summers are perhaps more difficult 

and perhaps appear to have changed 

rather less though no particular time 

seems to stand out as Mediterranean or 

even exceptionally hot, and perhaps 

rainfall has been similarly unexceptional 

, which brings us back to Winters 

as the one very different perception of 

our youth. 

Meteorologists will no doubt be 

able to scientifically prove or disprove 

this very anecdotal evidence of what 

appear to be significant climate changes 

or even attempt to link it to changes in 

the rainforests or increased air travel. 

Perhaps, on the other hand we are just 

all getting softer with central heating, 

air ‐conditioned cars and a great many 

other comforts which we lacked 30, 40, 

or 50 years ago,! –– but it is interesting 

to reflect from our own local experiences 

on these seemingly significant 

changes within our lifetimes! 

*** 

OLD SCARBORIANS 

DINNER - CIRCA 1951. 

Michael Rines (1941‐52 ) has forwarded 

the following picture, taken at an Old 

Scarborians Dinner, probably in 1951, 

being of particular interest in that it 

includes 2 Tetley Memorial Prize winners, 

who uniquely were Mother and 

Son. Rosh Ireland, who was School 

Captain is fourth from left. His Mother, 

“Win” Winifred Ireland, who was at 

the Municipal School when it was co‐ed, 

is third from left. The whole group from 

left to right was: Rosh’s father (who ran 

a printing business in North street);

49 

Michael Rines: Deirdre Newton (his then girlfriend and was at the Girls High 

School); Michael’s sister Pat and Mrs Ireland, the other two being unknown. 

Published August 2008 and now 

in its second print, GOD BLESS 

THE PRINCE OF WALES is the 

story of the town of Scarborough 

during WWII — and the estimated 

6,000 RAF aircrew who 

trained in the town, and what 

they got up to after training. 

Stories are many, but include 

the Lancaster which buzzed the 

town, the heroism of a teenage 

Italian girl near Monte Cassino in 

Italy, Lysander aircraft pilot training 

on Olivers Mount for clandestine 

operations, and Richard (now 

Lord) Attenborough and Alf Wight 

(of James Herriot fame), both of 

whom trained in the town. 240 

pages packed with detail, the 

book retails at £9.99 but is available 

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Cheques please payable to David 

Fowler. Contact details page 2. Or 

e-mail giving your postal address 

and pay on invoice. 

dgfowler@farthings.org.uk

50 

1961-2 2nd XV Rugby Team 

Back Row: Rob Wilson, Paul Fazey, Eaglen Sheen, John Mann, Malcolm Beavis, John Lester, 

Bob Watson. Middle Row: Dave Hudson, Mike Anderton, Tim Holt, Chris Coole, Jimmy 

Turner. Front Row: Ian Rothery, Chuck Mc Kinley, Gordon Askew, Dave Burnley, PA Gardiner, 

Jeff Reed, Malcolm Steel. 

Why not Advertise in Summer Times? 

Summer Times is published twice a year and is mailed to around 

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Full page outside back cover £70 

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51 

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52 

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3 

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4 

Published by The Old Scarborians Association. Editorial 01604 767895 

Design & Layout - 01723 365448 

Printed by Prontaprint, 5 Station Shops, Westborough, Scarborough 

Telephone 01723 367715

Summer Times: Volume 57, May 2009 - Old Scarborians

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