Association - Old Scarborians
Association - Old Scarborians
Association - Old Scarborians
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1<br />
Tene Propositum<br />
SUMMER TIMES<br />
The Journal of the<br />
<strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>’ <strong>Association</strong><br />
Members of the <strong>Association</strong> are former pupils<br />
and members of staff of<br />
Scarborough High School for Boys<br />
Volume 61– November 2011<br />
<strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>’ <strong>Association</strong><br />
Web address: http://oldscarborians.org<br />
Price £3.00
2<br />
David Pottage<br />
IEng AMICE<br />
Managing Director<br />
John Jacobs Golf Associates Ltd<br />
Golf Course Architects and Consultants<br />
A Complete Service<br />
from<br />
Project Appraisal<br />
through<br />
Detailed Design<br />
to<br />
Turnkey Development<br />
70 Whitesmead Road<br />
Stevenage<br />
Hertfordshire SG1 3JZ UK<br />
Tel: +41 (0)1438 488922<br />
Mobile: +41(0) 7770 981618<br />
E-mail: pottaged@hotmail.co.uk<br />
Member: European Institute of Golf Course Architects
EVENTS DIARY 2011/12<br />
ANNUAL GENERAL MEETING 2011<br />
TUESDAY 29th November 2011. SRUFC 7.30pm. ALL WELCOME.<br />
ANNUAL CHRISTMAS DINNER 2011<br />
FRIDAY, 2nd December 2011, at 7pm for 8pm. To be held at SRUFC,<br />
Scalby Road, Scarborough. (The new club premises are between Scalby<br />
and Burniston on the right hand side of the road after leaving Scalby<br />
village) Price £25 which includes limited wine. All Members are welcome.<br />
Please use the enclosed form and book as soon as possible. Contact<br />
Mick Bowman with any queries, 01287 634650.<br />
LONDON LUNCH<br />
SATURDAY 17th March 2012, East India Club, London, £55 including<br />
limited wine. Please use the enclosed form and book as soon as possible.<br />
Contact Bob Heaps with any queries, 01723 362118<br />
ANNUAL BOWLS MATCH 2012<br />
PROVISIONAL DATE FRIDAY 31st AUGUST 2012, Manor Road, Please<br />
contact Chris Found for details. (Contact details on page 2)<br />
ANNUAL GOLF TOURNAMENTS 2012<br />
THURSDAY June 14 th & THURSDAY September 20 th . North Cliff Golf<br />
Club. Please contact John Brinkler for details. (Contact details on page<br />
3)<br />
OSA TIES— New style <strong>Association</strong> ties are available at £10. Please<br />
send your order accompanied by a cheque to the Treasurer. For new<br />
members please send £20 to include Life Membership.<br />
Please send items for the next Summer Times to Peter Newham,<br />
(address on page 2), as soon as possible please, but to reach him by<br />
15th February 2012. Items sent by e‐mail are of great help, otherwise<br />
please type or write your letter and mail it on to him.
CONTENTS<br />
1. Events Diary<br />
2. Contents/ Committee Contacts<br />
4. Editorial<br />
4. Officer’s Reports<br />
6. Sporting Events<br />
9. Apologia<br />
9. From Here & There<br />
21. Obituaries<br />
29. Notes on Sport<br />
30. Philip Dalby<br />
30. Austro Swiss camp revisited<br />
31. Prints of Scarborough<br />
33. Nicknames<br />
343 Further Cameos. Life at Scarborough<br />
34. The School and what it gave me<br />
39. Woodwork<br />
39. Education<br />
41. The London Lunch<br />
41. A few reflections on my life<br />
44. Speech Day 1965 –Queen Street<br />
45. Atkinson Grimshaw<br />
48. Trivia<br />
49. Pleas for letters and articles<br />
SUMMER TIMES<br />
PRODUCTION:<br />
EDITOR<br />
Peter Newham<br />
‘Badger’s Rise’<br />
8 Southcrest<br />
Hunsbury Hill<br />
Northampton NN4 9UD<br />
Tel: 01604 767895<br />
E‐mail: the.newhams@btinternet.com<br />
2<br />
DESIGN & LAYOUT<br />
David Fowler<br />
Farthings Publishing<br />
8 Christine House<br />
1 Avenue Victoria<br />
Scarborough. YO11 2QB<br />
Tel: 01723 365448<br />
E‐mail: dgfowler@farthings.org.uk<br />
EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE<br />
2009/10<br />
PRESIDENT & MEMBERSHIP<br />
SECRETARY<br />
Geoff Winn<br />
‘Kingfishers<br />
5 Beech Court<br />
North Street,<br />
Scalby,<br />
Scarborough, YO13 0RU<br />
Tel: 01723 362414<br />
E‐mail: Winn.geoff@talk21.com<br />
VICE-PRESIDENT<br />
William (Bill) Temple<br />
305A Scalby road,<br />
Newby<br />
Scarborough YO12 6TF<br />
Tel: 01723 362584<br />
William.temple@btopenworld.com<br />
IMMEDIATE PAST<br />
PRESIDENT & TREASURER<br />
Chris Found<br />
Pinewood Cottage<br />
Silpho<br />
Scarborough North Yorkshire.<br />
YO13 0JP<br />
Tel: 01723 882343<br />
E‐mail: deefound@btinternet.com
SECRETARY<br />
Mick Bowman<br />
9 Ilkley Grove<br />
Guisborough<br />
Cleveland TS14 8LL Tel: 01287 634650<br />
Email: mjwb@supanet.com<br />
Assistant SECRETARY<br />
Bob Heaps<br />
67 Newby Farm Road<br />
Newby<br />
SCARBOROUGH YO12 6UJ<br />
Tel: 01723 362118<br />
E‐mail: bobheaps@yorkshire.net<br />
COMMITTEE:<br />
ARCHIVIST<br />
Peter Robson<br />
Forge Villa<br />
High Street<br />
Ebberston<br />
North Yorkshire. YO13 9PA<br />
Tel: 01723 859335<br />
E‐mail: Peter.Robson@btinternet.com<br />
INDEPENDENT REVIEWERS<br />
Peter Berry 01723 362633<br />
Alan Thraves 01723 360851<br />
MAGAZINE ADVERTISING<br />
Chris Found<br />
Pinewood Cottage<br />
Silpho Scarborough<br />
North Yorkshire. YO13 0JP<br />
Tel: 01723 882343<br />
E‐mail: deefound@btinternet.com<br />
PRESS & PUBLICITY<br />
Maurice Johnson<br />
Cottage Farm<br />
Foxholes, Driffield YO25 3QF<br />
Tel: 01262 470272<br />
E‐mail: dairymagic@aol.com<br />
3<br />
SPORTING EVENTS - GOLF<br />
John Brinkler<br />
20 Barmoor Close<br />
Scalby<br />
Scarborough YO13 0RZ<br />
Tel: 01723 362665<br />
E‐mail: jovalbrinkler@gmail.com<br />
SUMMER TIMES EDITOR<br />
Peter Newham<br />
‘Badger’s Rise’<br />
8 Southcrest<br />
Hunsbury Hill<br />
Northampton NN4 9UD<br />
Tel: 01604 767895<br />
E‐mail: the.newhams@btinternet.com<br />
WEB SITE MANAGER<br />
http://oldscarborians.org<br />
Bill Potts<br />
1848 Hidden Hills Drive<br />
Roseville<br />
California 95661‐5804 USA<br />
Tel: +001 916 773‐3865<br />
E‐mail: osa@wfpconsulting.com<br />
Howard Acklam 01723 584061<br />
Colin Adamson 01723 364373<br />
Don Graham 01723 850177<br />
Mick Peart 01723 864164<br />
HONORARY LIFE VICE-<br />
PRESIDENTS<br />
Frank Bamforth 01723 364432<br />
David Fowler 01723 365448<br />
Doug Owen 01723 360960<br />
Peter Robson 01723 859335
EDITORIAL<br />
One of the most<br />
gratifying conse‐<br />
quences of Editorship<br />
of the Magazine is the<br />
contacts I have made,<br />
not only with my few<br />
contemporaries at<br />
School (I confess to<br />
admittedly being somewhat retiring<br />
and anti‐social at that time) but both<br />
among <strong>Old</strong> Boys senior to me, some of<br />
whom I can recall from afar, and also<br />
junior (if “junior” be the right word for<br />
any of us given the passage of time<br />
and our current ages), and the flood of<br />
memories which this has belatedly<br />
stirred.<br />
Memory is a strange thing, after<br />
nearly 50 years away from School and<br />
Scarborough I might be forgiven for<br />
the thought that it would only consti‐<br />
tute a vague and distant recollection...<br />
Things changed however 12 years ago<br />
when I belatedly joined the Associa‐<br />
tion, and membership and the Maga‐<br />
zine in particular brought unexpect‐<br />
edly to light a much more detailed<br />
recollection of my youth, of contempo‐<br />
raries, classes and Masters, almost as<br />
though it was yesterday! Subsequent<br />
editorship of the Magazine has sharp‐<br />
ened these even further and provided<br />
fascinating contacts with many other<br />
<strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong>, both older and<br />
younger, with common memories of<br />
what is now the very distant past.<br />
It is gratifying to find that many <strong>Old</strong><br />
Boys have maintained contact, and the<br />
diversity of their careers, interests and<br />
even the differing parts of the world to<br />
4<br />
which they have gravitated is con‐<br />
stantly cause for surprise and must<br />
reflect the standards of the School. We<br />
may not have appreciated it at the<br />
time, but ,on reflection, the majority<br />
will feel that we have cause to be<br />
grateful for our education at the High<br />
School and the benefits it brought us!<br />
A reflection of this is perhaps the<br />
great success of the appeal for funds to<br />
keep the Magazine going into the fore‐<br />
seeable future! –– but this will only be<br />
viable if the other side of the equation,<br />
the incoming articles, letters and other<br />
material, keeping coming in sufficient<br />
volume to fill its pages, and for this<br />
issue, after an initial welcome flush in<br />
March/ April, I was in danger until<br />
recently of lapsing into my usual pessi‐<br />
mism.<br />
So I will end my Editorial with<br />
my usual plea for material, critical or<br />
otherwise, indulgent or not, for the<br />
next issue, to keep Summer Times,<br />
newly financially stable for the time<br />
being, as an effective twice yearly<br />
vehicle for communication, contact<br />
and news of former life at the York‐<br />
shire Centre of the Universe!<br />
Peter Newham (1954-61)<br />
Editor<br />
PRESIDENTIAL<br />
I finished my last Report by refer‐<br />
ring to the forthcoming London Lunch<br />
and hoping it would be the usual en‐<br />
joyable event. That was written before<br />
we discovered there was to be a major<br />
trade union rally passing by the loca‐
tion of the lunch<br />
around the time we<br />
were meeting. Unfor‐<br />
tunately, the rally<br />
was overshadowed<br />
by the idiotic activi‐<br />
ties of rampant mobs<br />
of so called<br />
“anarchists” who are a disgrace to this<br />
country and undermined the peaceful<br />
manner in which most of the trade<br />
unionists conducted themselves. I am<br />
pleased to say that all but one of those<br />
who had booked made it to the Royal<br />
Air Force Club and, more importantly,<br />
all escaped unscathed from the Capi‐<br />
tal! It was good to see two new atten‐<br />
dees and welcome back old faces.<br />
Looking forward to this year’s<br />
Christmas dinner, I am very pleased to<br />
note that there is already a large group<br />
registered from the 1961 and 1962 in‐<br />
takes. I would like to think it was my<br />
mention at last year’s dinner that <strong>Old</strong><br />
Boys might consider celebrating anni‐<br />
versaries of joining SBHS by attending<br />
one of the events, but in all probability<br />
there is another more compelling rea‐<br />
son. Whatever the reason, it is good to<br />
see new faces attending. Wearing my<br />
Membership Officer hat, I shall be<br />
looking for new members. There is a<br />
growing number of younger ( not so<br />
young now) members attending the<br />
Christmas dinner since we moved the<br />
venue to the Rugby Club and I hope<br />
this continues. Those who commenced<br />
in 1971 have a 40 year anniversary this<br />
year so why not put together a larger<br />
party?<br />
I have suggested to those organising<br />
events that a list of Members (or non‐<br />
5<br />
Members) attending should be pub‐<br />
lished in Summer Times as this could<br />
well encourage others to join in if they<br />
recognise names of those with whom<br />
they were at school . In particular, I am<br />
sure John Brinkler for golf and Chris<br />
Found for bowls would welcome addi‐<br />
tional participants.<br />
The major good news over the past<br />
year has been the level of donations<br />
from Members to the appeal fund.<br />
However, there are still over 200 of<br />
you out there who have not responded<br />
with even an update form, never mind<br />
a donation. The Committee are left<br />
thinking you are no longer interested<br />
in the <strong>Association</strong> and, in accordance<br />
with the comments in the last issue of<br />
Summer Times, those who have not<br />
responded by the cut off date of 30<br />
September will not receive this issue of<br />
the magazine, but only a letter inform‐<br />
ing them that if they wish to receive<br />
future copies an update form must be<br />
submitted. We are sorry to have to<br />
take this action, but there is little point<br />
in sending magazines to those who<br />
have lost interest, particularly bearing<br />
in mind the rising cost of both printing<br />
and postage.<br />
Finally, I welcome Bob Heaps to the<br />
Committee and he will be dealing with<br />
the distribution of Summer Times<br />
from this issue, and, hopefully, taking<br />
over from Mick Bowman as Secretary<br />
from the next AGM.<br />
Geoff Winn (1949-56)
SECRETARIAL<br />
Thanks to the work<br />
done by various mem‐<br />
bers, the <strong>Old</strong> Scarbori‐<br />
ans <strong>Association</strong> has<br />
run very smoothly<br />
over the last few<br />
months. It has been<br />
very pleasing to re‐<br />
ceive applications for the Christmas<br />
Dinner from a number of ʺyoungʺ<br />
members who started the School after<br />
1960.<br />
Can I ask all Members to book early<br />
for this year’s Dinner at the Rugby<br />
Club. When you do will you make<br />
sure you include your current e‐mail<br />
address, the year you started the<br />
School and, of course, your cheque<br />
made out to the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Asso‐<br />
ciation.<br />
The only disappointment this sum‐<br />
mer has been the low response to the<br />
Golf and Bowls competitions. If we<br />
ʺoldiesʺ can stagger round, how about<br />
some of our ʺyoungstersʺ entering. It is<br />
all very light‐hearted!<br />
I hope to see many of you at the Scar‐<br />
borough Dinner.<br />
Mick Bowman (1954-61<br />
TREASURIAL<br />
At present we have<br />
£10233 in the bank of<br />
which £8000 is on de‐<br />
posit, and £575 of this<br />
represents advance<br />
ticket sales for the 2012<br />
Christmas Dinner. Dur‐<br />
6<br />
ing the current financial year (from 1st<br />
November 2010) we have received<br />
further appeal donations of £4522<br />
which will mean that total appeal do‐<br />
nations received were well over £8000.<br />
Also membership subscriptions re‐<br />
ceived increased in comparison with<br />
previous years and the new ties are<br />
still selling well. All our sporting and<br />
meal activities have ended up on the<br />
positive side and seem to have been<br />
enjoyed by all participants.<br />
The net cost of the Spring edition of<br />
Summer Times was £658 which was<br />
net of £325 receipts from advertising,<br />
and the only significant expense was a<br />
payment to Bill Potts for the £98 an‐<br />
nual cost of our website. Be assured<br />
that the financial health of your Asso‐<br />
ciation is continuing and is being care‐<br />
fully monitored.<br />
Chris Found (1951-59)<br />
SPORTING EVENTS<br />
GOLF<br />
TA SMITH STABLEFORD<br />
This competition was<br />
held on July 21st 2011,<br />
11 members attended<br />
and the result was as<br />
follows:<br />
cap<br />
1 st Paul Gridley 34<br />
points on 14 handi‐<br />
2 nd Richard Bell 34 points on 14 handi‐<br />
cap (back 9)<br />
3 rd Geoff Winn 33 points on 20 handi‐<br />
cap.
The attendance was disappointing for<br />
our two tournaments which were com‐<br />
pleted during the summer, so it was<br />
decided to hold the main event with<br />
dinner later, in September next year.<br />
The two dates for 2012 will be June 14 th<br />
& September 20 th.<br />
Can I please appeal to all <strong>Old</strong> Scar‐<br />
borian golfers to join in with us next<br />
year.<br />
John Brinkler (1950-58)<br />
BOWLS<br />
This year’s competition remains in‐<br />
complete because of the weather. We<br />
reached the semi‐final stage and the<br />
final stages were postponed until<br />
Wednesday 5th October. Those in the<br />
semi‐final were Jack Binns, Les Stock‐<br />
well, Bill Simmonds and Chris Found<br />
The final will take place at Manor<br />
Road, 31st October at 1030am<br />
Chris Found (1951-59)<br />
MEMBERSHIP<br />
MEMBERSHIP<br />
SECRETARIAL<br />
Having referred to various member‐<br />
ship issues in my President’s report, I<br />
will restrict this report to purely fac‐<br />
tual matters. This is the first time since<br />
I took over that I have been unable to<br />
inform you of more new members<br />
than deaths. On the basis of the age of<br />
our membership, this could unfortu‐<br />
nately now become the norm. The lists<br />
do in fact cover a year as no details<br />
7<br />
were included in the last issue of the<br />
magazine If you have friends who<br />
were at school with you, please try to<br />
interest them in joining. They would<br />
be very welcome at one of our events.<br />
Firstly the new members :<br />
Argent, Patrick (1970‐73)<br />
Burnett, Graham (1949‐56)<br />
Copley, Adrian (1964‐68)<br />
Flinton, Norman (1949‐54)<br />
Freeman, Tony (1957‐61)<br />
Gibson, Colin (1951‐56)<br />
Ireland, Shaun (1949‐57)<br />
Minnikin, Leonard (1961‐69)<br />
Moor, Roy (1962‐68)<br />
Swailes, John (1960‐66)<br />
Thornton, Graham (1950‐58)<br />
Wheelhouse, John (1949‐52)<br />
Those who have passed on are:<br />
Andrews, Robert (1933‐38)<br />
Coole, Chris (1955‐62)<br />
Craggs, James Leslie (1942‐49)<br />
Davison, Deryck (1936‐43)<br />
Handyside, Alan (1953‐61)<br />
Hillarby, Geoff (1950‐56)<br />
Johnson, Julian (1948‐54)<br />
Kidd, Harry Raymond (1941‐45)<br />
Layton, Jack (1936‐41)
Lazenby, Alan (1935‐40)<br />
Leefe, John (1935‐42)<br />
Mason, John (1958‐65)<br />
Medd, Gordon (1932‐39)<br />
Melton, Basil (1932‐37)<br />
Simmons, Tony (1948‐53)<br />
Spavin, Alan (1941‐46)<br />
Thorpe, David (1963‐71)<br />
Whipp, George<br />
Wilson, John (1945‐52)<br />
Geoff Winn (1949-56)<br />
ARCHIVIST’S REPORT<br />
We receive material<br />
on a regular basis from<br />
Members. The most<br />
recent items are as fol‐<br />
lows :‐ Eric Rushforth<br />
( 1941‐48) has given us<br />
school photographs<br />
from 1942 and 1946. We<br />
have a complete collection back to<br />
1924.<br />
Ian Ledgard (1955‐62) has contrib‐<br />
uted an amusing letter to him from Mr<br />
Gardiner. In the Easter break of 1962<br />
Ian had grown a beard and requested<br />
permission from the Headmaster to<br />
keep it when the school re‐opened.<br />
The request was turned down but in<br />
an amusing and gentle way; “ Army<br />
rather than Navy” was the school rule.<br />
I will be happy to receive any such<br />
memorabilia from Members.<br />
Peter Robson (1945-53)<br />
8<br />
WEBMASTER’S REPORT<br />
For quite a few months<br />
now, I’ve been working,<br />
pro bono, on the Memo‐<br />
rex at 50 Web site<br />
(memorexat50.org). I<br />
worked for Memorex<br />
from 1972 to 1980. The<br />
company was founded in Silicon Val‐<br />
ley in 1961, making 2011 the year of its<br />
fiftieth anniversary. Once the anniver‐<br />
sary celebration (October 14 and 15) is<br />
over, I’ll finally have some free time.<br />
Not too much free time, mind you, as I<br />
continue to work on other pro bono<br />
Web sites, plus the occasional income‐<br />
producing one. As life is a non‐stop<br />
learning experience, I also spend time<br />
acquiring new knowledge, some re‐<br />
lated to improving my website design<br />
skills, some just because knowledge is<br />
so interesting just for its own sake.<br />
This year, Colin Hurd once more<br />
provided the opportunity for me to<br />
send out the reminder to all members<br />
with email addresses of the annual<br />
reunion of the Scarborough Rugby<br />
Union Football Club. The more sophis‐<br />
ticated software I’m now using for<br />
mass emailings allows me to track how<br />
many recipients opened a message and<br />
how many clicked on any of the links<br />
in it. Just over one third of all who<br />
were sent the message were recorded<br />
as having opened it (although not all<br />
email software will provide feedback<br />
on that). Some opened it more than<br />
once—just a little bit more than twice,<br />
on average. A very small number<br />
clicked on the link to the SRUFC site.<br />
That’s not too surprising, as that site<br />
only has very perfunctory event an‐<br />
nouncements. All in all, the feedback is
9<br />
encouraging. I suspect that most <strong>Old</strong> APOLOGIA<br />
<strong>Scarborians</strong> are not in a position to<br />
attend the SRUFC reunions (too far<br />
away, less than perfect health, not ac‐<br />
tually interested in rugby anyway, and<br />
so on). Therefore, I believe enough<br />
people opened the message for us to<br />
regard the emailing as a success.<br />
The usage of the Discussion Forums<br />
remains disappointing though. On one<br />
of my own recent visits there, I en‐<br />
countered a serious error message cre‐<br />
ated by the server software that man‐<br />
ages the forums. Some problem had<br />
rendered the forums inoperable. I re‐<br />
ported it to Infinology, our Web host‐<br />
ing company. With their usual reliabil‐<br />
ity, they researched it and corrected<br />
Not only did the last Issue contain a<br />
genuine photographic puzzle, but as‐<br />
tute readers, particularly those men‐<br />
tioned and depicted in the errant pic‐<br />
ture, may have noticed a mismatch<br />
between the reference to the Austro‐<br />
Swiss 1959 camp and the related<br />
names in Guy Barnish’s article and the<br />
accompanying but somewhat earlier<br />
camp photo which was to have accom‐<br />
panied a reference by Peter Dawson to<br />
the 1951 Wensleydale camp, which<br />
was held over through lack of space.<br />
Apologies to all concerned and the<br />
relevant photo is included on page 31.<br />
the problem, which I suspect also af‐<br />
fected other Web sites, in less than<br />
***<br />
three days. I’m hoping they and I did‐<br />
n’t address that problem for nothing.<br />
FROM HERE & THERE<br />
The Discussion Forums represent an<br />
excellent opportunity for those <strong>Old</strong> Rosh Ireland (1944-52)<br />
<strong>Scarborians</strong> with Internet access to stay writes…<br />
in touch with one another. Even Bill<br />
Kendall (George Kendall to many of<br />
us), who can usually be relied upon for<br />
something at least marginally whimsi‐<br />
Provoked by Derek Terry’s lament<br />
for two lost years (S.T. vol. 60), I offer a<br />
less bitter account of those years.<br />
cal, hasn’t posted a message there in I spent the summer of 1952, some<br />
some months.<br />
of it working in Jaconelli’s, waiting to<br />
So, please regard this as a call to my be called up. At that time there were<br />
fellow <strong>Old</strong> Scabs to start communicat‐ two ways to get into the senior service<br />
ing.<br />
as a national serviceman: to be an elec‐<br />
Best wishes to everyone.<br />
trical tiffy (Potts had taught us a good<br />
deal about magnetic mines and de‐<br />
Bill Potts (1946–55)<br />
Webmaster<br />
gaussing, but that was rather out of<br />
date) or to volunteer for a Russian<br />
course. I was bound for university to<br />
read French and German, so Russian<br />
beckoned. How it came to be taught in<br />
the armed forces is a long story, best
ecounted in Elliot and Shukman’s Se‐<br />
cret Classrooms.<br />
The call‐up came only in late Sep‐<br />
tember, to report to Victoria Barracks in<br />
Southsea. This was an old cavalry bar‐<br />
racks with nineteenth century conven‐<br />
iences: hand basins only. For ‘bath and<br />
wash clothes’ one marched twice a week<br />
to Royal Naval Barracks in Portsmouth.<br />
There were some forty in our group<br />
and the same in a parallel group, in<br />
general a company of imposing intel‐<br />
lect, with most bound for Oxbridge and<br />
a leavening of open scholars, many of<br />
whom had already taken the opportu‐<br />
nity to pick up a Russian grammar.<br />
We suffered the square, kit musters,<br />
sweeping of leaves, nocturnal guard<br />
duties, running in boots, but not har‐<br />
ried by drill corporals, but mothered, or<br />
rather matroned (possible?), by<br />
weather‐beaten chief petty officers on<br />
the cusp of retirement. Since we were<br />
in training, we were bidden to salute<br />
WREN officers (a courtesy not ex‐<br />
tended to them by real seamen), in<br />
which we delighted when ashore, cut‐<br />
ting off the most sift those who would<br />
go on to the London or Cambridge<br />
courses, or the journeyman dashing of<br />
salutes whenever we encountered one,<br />
particularly if she had a male compan‐<br />
ion. It is strange now to recall that one<br />
of the first acts of the Navy when it<br />
received us was to sell us 300 blue‐line<br />
cigarettes for 7/6, a monthly ration.<br />
And no, we did not get the grog issue –<br />
only for those afloat.<br />
Training over, we moved to Royal Na‐<br />
val Barracks, where on the first night<br />
10<br />
we had to sling hammocks: very com‐<br />
fortable, but very warm in a Ports‐<br />
mouth autumn.<br />
The week we spent there was in<br />
‘manual labour’, of which I have no<br />
recollection beyond cheerfully destroy‐<br />
ing a large number of metal bunks<br />
which refused to be dismantled. The<br />
glory of RNB, after Vicky, was in the<br />
availability at any time of a hot shower/<br />
bath. I still regard it as a luxury.<br />
Russian loomed only when we<br />
moved to a joint services camp at<br />
Coulsdon, next to the Guards at Cater‐<br />
ham. This was the army: Nissen huts,<br />
ablutions far distant and bereft of light<br />
bulbs, coke only issued for the stoves<br />
(we raided the Guards for coal), the<br />
exaggerated form of drill favoured by<br />
the army, and its webbing rituals. We<br />
were there in November and December<br />
of that notorious winter of smog in<br />
London: at times only a quarter of<br />
morning parade was visible from the<br />
front. We worked in big composite<br />
classes and then broke up into small<br />
groups in tiny sections of huts where<br />
the first task was to get the stove going<br />
(recalled much later reading Solzhenit‐<br />
syn on the prime importance of keep‐<br />
ing warm). Our own amiable tutor was<br />
a Czech linguist whom I would meet<br />
again as a colleague in Australia. He<br />
had the disconcerting habit of empha‐<br />
sising points by driving a large pen‐<br />
knife into the desk in front of one. Our<br />
pay was four shillings a day, which<br />
meant that two pennorth of chips in the<br />
NAAFI was a serious disbursement.<br />
After two months we had a test to
course somewhere in the Midlands.<br />
Then an Admiralty board of elders to<br />
determine if one was officer material. I<br />
had a good start, since the first question<br />
was, ‘What happened at Scarborough in<br />
1914?’ My father had remembered flee‐<br />
ing town along Seamer Road during<br />
the bombardment, and the questioner<br />
turned out to have been in one of the<br />
cruisers unsuccessfully chasing the<br />
German ships.<br />
So the next move was to London,<br />
where only the navy went, to a small<br />
room for four on the top floor of a large<br />
house in Lancaster Square. In the realm<br />
of Queen Grammar, we were to learn<br />
Russian for some eleven hours a day<br />
(classes plus homework) for forty‐six<br />
weeks in the year. The classrooms were<br />
in Bedford Square, so we faced the fear‐<br />
some crush on the Central line four<br />
times a day. It was a course provided<br />
by London University (a source of in‐<br />
come for it) and we were guinea pigs as<br />
it sought to discover just how much<br />
could be force fed to each successive<br />
course (of which there were three per<br />
year). The carrot was intangible:<br />
achieving a good standard of Russian<br />
in a short time. The stick was real: a test<br />
every second Friday decided whether<br />
one stayed on course or was relegated<br />
to the lower deck.<br />
So Her Majesty maintained me in<br />
reasonable comfort in London for a<br />
year while I learnt what was eventually<br />
to be my trade. The year came to an<br />
end. Christmas leave was limited, since<br />
the navy thought we needed two weeks<br />
of professional training: rifle range in<br />
the mud at Whale Island and visits to<br />
11<br />
other theme parks.<br />
Then we were rusticated once more<br />
to an army camp on a rain swept hill‐<br />
side above Bodmin, but this time the<br />
idiosyncrasies of navy drill were recog‐<br />
nised, and we were permitted to dou‐<br />
ble onto parade while army and RAF<br />
marched sedately. Time was divided<br />
again into large and small group ses‐<br />
sions, though in far better conditions<br />
than Coulsdon, and the regime was less<br />
rigid, which did not spare some of my<br />
comrades being despatched to Devon‐<br />
port for punishment drill for missing<br />
parade.<br />
A distraction was being sent to De‐<br />
vonport to join H.M.S. Bulwark for 24<br />
hours. We were aboard to swell the<br />
numbers to cheer ship in the Channel<br />
as the Queen returned in the royal<br />
yacht from a tour of the empire. We<br />
could pretend a little that we were in<br />
the navy: if we got ourselves to Fowey,<br />
twelve miles away, we had a whaler we<br />
could sail and friends in the sailing<br />
club.<br />
After six months in Bodmin, we had<br />
our final examination and became ser‐<br />
vice interpreters. As a bonus, the exam‐<br />
iner, a two‐and a‐half ringer, taught us<br />
a selection of modestly salacious<br />
French songs in the evening.<br />
What then did the navy do with a<br />
batch of thirty Russian interpreters?<br />
Some went off to compile a dictionary,<br />
and some to minesweepers at Harwich.<br />
My destination was a wireless station<br />
at Cuxhaven, not a friendly place for<br />
British matelots just after the war (we<br />
were occupation forces then). Surpris‐
ingly, I saw The Cruel Sea dubbed into<br />
German at a local cinema; it was<br />
watched in oppressive silence. Now<br />
Billy Binder comes into the story. He<br />
had impressed upon me that, in Ger‐<br />
many, one must never stay in a Gasthof:<br />
always in a Gasthaus. So, with a week’s<br />
leave, I took the train south and came<br />
to the village of Schwangau, for rea‐<br />
sons which will become clear. I walked<br />
down the street, past more than one<br />
neat Gasthof, until I found a Gasthaus.<br />
The landlord (I will call him that)<br />
seemed bemused that someone should<br />
wish to stay there, but accepted the<br />
request. It was in fact a pub, which<br />
would discharge its customers each<br />
day at daybreak. Since the locals spoke<br />
only heavy Bavarian, the only person<br />
with whom I could communicate was a<br />
young woman from Leipzig, a refugee<br />
from East Germany, who had been<br />
directed to work in the pub. The only<br />
meal the pub could produce was Ti‐<br />
roler Groestl. My reason for going to<br />
Schwangau again derived from Billy,<br />
who had extolled the castles of<br />
Ludwig. So I went to Neuschwanstein<br />
and Hohenschwangau and took a bus<br />
to Linderhof. Beyond Neuschwanstein,<br />
I walked up into the mountains until I<br />
thought I could look down into Aus‐<br />
tria, but came upon a sign warning that<br />
anyone proceeding beyond this point<br />
would be shot. I was unwilling to test<br />
its veracity.<br />
I was demobbed from Chatham<br />
two years to the day from when I was<br />
called up, and was in Cambridge the<br />
following week. I had intended to read<br />
French and German, but was unsure of<br />
my German, even after two months in<br />
12<br />
Cuxhaven, took a dislike to what ap‐<br />
peared to be a rather stiff and rigid<br />
German department, and fell back on<br />
the much more welcoming Russian<br />
department. I had thought my French<br />
was not too bad (I should have been<br />
more attentive to Les Brown’s occa‐<br />
sional sarcasm), but I started out at<br />
rock bottom ‐ gamma double minus –<br />
and had a hard climb from there.<br />
At the end of my time at Cam‐<br />
bridge, I had passed BP’s cunning se‐<br />
lection procedures and the Persian<br />
Gulf loomed, but I believe my profes‐<br />
sor, to whom I had spoken but twice in<br />
three years, intervened with the Fates,<br />
as I have an inkling that Joey had done<br />
on a previous occasion when I had set<br />
out down one path and found myself<br />
impelled upon another, and on the day<br />
of the May Ball I had a phone call<br />
which would take me two months later<br />
to Moscow and from there to Australia.<br />
From God’s own county to God’s own<br />
country.<br />
Barry Moor (1962–70)<br />
writes…<br />
I finally left the High School in 1970.<br />
I had overstayed my welcome by one<br />
year (some teachers may dis‐<br />
agree....ʺonly one yearʺ ʹAble, Idleʹ wrote<br />
Growler Evans on one Physics report.)<br />
Thanks to Mr. Gardiner I was able to<br />
rectify some ʹlax periodsʹ, and thanks<br />
to Messrs Binns and Pitts I was able to<br />
ʹaceʹ History and Politics. Three years<br />
later I left Leeds University with a<br />
Third, using notes retained from the<br />
aforementioned teachers with assis‐<br />
tance from Profs. Hansen and Milli‐
and. Life in the ʹoutsideʹ world<br />
proved less successful and in 1979 I<br />
bade farewell to the green and pleas‐<br />
ant land. Freddie Laker transported<br />
me to Los Angeles for a hundred quid.<br />
The trip was to last until I got sick of<br />
the place or until I got deported.<br />
Thirty years later, here I remain. I<br />
eventually located in Angelus Oaks, a<br />
village of 170 residents set at 6000 feet<br />
in the San Bernardino mountains, close<br />
to the ski resort of Big Bear Lake, a<br />
most beautiful place. My workplace<br />
was Fontana from whence I drove a<br />
fuel truck daily into LA and the sur‐<br />
rounding areas. So a pleasant exis‐<br />
tence in the Golden State, blue skies,<br />
incredible mountains, deserts, the Pa‐<br />
cific Ocean. All this and Mexico just<br />
down the street. These things make<br />
California famous.... these and earth‐<br />
quakes. Home was an ʹAʹ frame cabin<br />
set amidst huge pines and a few red‐<br />
woods. After eight years I had finally<br />
gotten around to fixing the place up,<br />
transforming the attic into my bed‐<br />
room. The place was beginning to<br />
look decent, the rent was cheap and<br />
my dog was happy.<br />
About those earthquakes. They<br />
tended to be rather frequent in the<br />
mountains, though usually too small<br />
to notice, little tremblers that rattle the<br />
windows and make the dogs howl.<br />
Some you do notice, waking with the<br />
bed shaking; they tend to be spooky in<br />
the dark. Larger quakes move you to<br />
make for the kitchen door, the door‐<br />
jamb being structurally sound as well<br />
as an escape route. The infamous San<br />
Andreas fault was just down the high‐<br />
13<br />
way, crossed twice daily going to and<br />
from work. Earthquakes are some‐<br />
thing to think about but not to overly<br />
worry about.<br />
And then there was June 28,<br />
1992. Sunday morning and I woke<br />
with the bed shaking pretty good. By<br />
the time I thought about moving, it<br />
was over. It was 5am and I was soon<br />
back asleep. As soon as the bed<br />
lurched again at 7am I was up and in<br />
the kitchen doorway in a flash, my dog<br />
J.D. was already there. Another pretty<br />
serious shake. Reports on the radio<br />
confirmed a sizable quake, very siz‐<br />
able, 7.3 and centred in Landers, a de‐<br />
sert town 20 miles away. The after‐<br />
shock was from the same location.<br />
Wide awake now, as was my<br />
neighbour, R.J. I made coffee and in‐<br />
vited him and his girlfriend over. It<br />
was 8am. R.J. was on the deck just at<br />
the door when the whole house<br />
moved. Something lifted the cabin ten<br />
feet and then dropped it then lifted it<br />
again and again. At the same time we<br />
were shaken side to side. Me, him and<br />
the dog wedged in the doorway as the<br />
place continued to roll, up down and<br />
sideways, violent shaking. I looked<br />
into the kitchen in time to see a recent<br />
purchase, a six foot ceramic lamp, tot‐<br />
ter and fall and disintegrate. Cabinets<br />
jerked open and plates, pans, cans and<br />
everything joined my lamp on the<br />
floor. Everything in my house was self<br />
‐destructing.<br />
The noise was deafening. Scrap‐<br />
ing, grinding, banging, a freight train<br />
inside your head. I screamed at R.J. to<br />
look at the mess, he shouted back to<br />
look outside. It was incredible. Mas‐
sive trees were dancing up and down.<br />
The ground looked liquid and his girl‐<br />
friend was crawling across the back‐<br />
yard, helpless. What you see does not<br />
seem real, trees do not do that! And<br />
just as you are beginning to feel anx‐<br />
ious, it stops. Sudden. All is still, and<br />
the silence is as intense as the noise.<br />
Nothing, –– no birds, not anything.<br />
The world looked intact, at least at first<br />
glance. All back to normal, except for<br />
the girl sprawled in my yard. Looking<br />
inside the house was a different story.<br />
The welcoming coffee was all over the<br />
floor with the rest of my stuff, so we<br />
opted for something a little stronger.<br />
The Fire Department came by later to<br />
check all was ok. We had experienced a<br />
6.5 earthquake, centred somewhere<br />
very close, a mile or so. It had lasted 30<br />
to 40 seconds. No one had been in‐<br />
jured. It had been quite a morning.<br />
John Poole (1962-70)<br />
writes….<br />
After reading Spot<br />
(Ian Scott)ʹs heroic<br />
contributions to the<br />
last issue, Iʹd like<br />
to switch attention a<br />
moment to cricket,<br />
and football with a<br />
round ball. I did play<br />
Rugby (as we all had<br />
to) at SBHS, and even played hooker<br />
(rather unsuccessfully) for Arnold<br />
against Mr Scott in one or two house<br />
matches up the School... I once played<br />
on the wing on a particularly boggy<br />
(even for Woodlands Drive) evening<br />
and was smeared repeatedly into touch<br />
14<br />
by a pack of (I think) Ruskinites led<br />
with serious purpose by Colin Ren‐<br />
nard...<br />
These formative experiences led me<br />
to prefer cricket and football. Yes, foot‐<br />
ball: along with a handful of other High<br />
Schoolers (eg Rich Bayes, Keith Wil‐<br />
cox, Mick Stephenson, Pete Lewins) I<br />
played for a very successful Eastfield<br />
Juniors team who occasionally even<br />
beat the fabulous St Peterʹs XI featuring<br />
(if recall rightly) such local superstars<br />
as Phil Cook, Rich Jackson, John Riley,<br />
Mick Mulvana, ʺJinxʺJenkinson ‐ and a<br />
marvellous goalie called Tony Furnish<br />
whose defection to them was what al‐<br />
lowed me the gig between the sticks for<br />
Eastfield. Our back four were so excel‐<br />
lent that a cardboard cut‐out wouldnʹt<br />
have let in many more than I did that<br />
season. We even got to lift the North<br />
Riding Minor League Cup against Mal‐<br />
ton at the hallowed (and now so sadly‐<br />
derelict) Athletic Ground.<br />
Aha. But getting in the Evening<br />
News in that way was not popular with<br />
Mr Gardiner ‐ or perhaps (who<br />
knows?) Messrs Beanland and Ox‐<br />
ley. They let it be known that for the<br />
next season there would be a Third XV<br />
(I think the only time this was done) of<br />
which I was given the unre‐<br />
fusable ʺhonourʺ of captaincy ‐ and<br />
which obviously played on Satur‐<br />
days. Game set and match to<br />
School. Except: I kept playing both<br />
winter games, culminating in the day I<br />
broke my nose on the top of Rog Steelʹs<br />
head (inexplicably, weʹd both chosen to<br />
tackle somebody on the same day) in<br />
the morning, then got kicked in the eye<br />
playing football in the pm and taken off
to hospital with concussion....<br />
Cricket: well the Colts were skip‐<br />
pered by Cookie again. Jumbo Wat‐<br />
son and I opened the batting and sel‐<br />
dom collected double‐figures betwen<br />
us. Eventually in the Sixth I made it to<br />
the First XI and collected the Batting<br />
Cup for 1969 with probably the lowest<br />
score (47) ever to win it ‐ and scored in<br />
the longest time ‐ about 3<br />
hours. Boycs, eat yer heart out. But<br />
our stars were such as Pete Warwick,<br />
John Riley, Kenny Eddon behind the<br />
stumps, Paul Bramley and Phil<br />
Dodds. ʺWe ave im, Bram!ʺ<br />
Finally, plays: ––– I had a scene‐<br />
shifting bit‐part in Sam Rocking‐<br />
horseʹs swan‐song, She Stoops To Con‐<br />
quer; was an old‐git vicar (with won‐<br />
derful John Barnwell stealing the<br />
show as fanatical Glaswegian Ananias)<br />
while Rob Southwick and Chris Gar‐<br />
ner starred in ʺThe Alchemistʺ; remem‐<br />
ber Alison Bartliff (unforgettable!) as<br />
Grusha in The Caucasian Chalk Circle, in<br />
which the rest of us played about five<br />
parts each. ʺCan I Leave The Roomʺ was<br />
a revue we put on at one of those psy‐<br />
chedic Sixth Form ʺdiscosʺ; Beyond the<br />
Fringe it wasnʹt.... Finally, Tim Hulse<br />
had me smoking (really smoking) and<br />
swearing for a senior in‐school audi‐<br />
ence one afternoon in ʺLittle Malcom<br />
and his Struggle Against the Eunuchsʺ....<br />
honest.<br />
Thereʹs more, much more.... so Iʹd<br />
better leave it there and pass the strike<br />
to a bigger hitter.<br />
Thatʹs anyone then!<br />
15<br />
Stan Todd (1959-66)<br />
writes...<br />
I attended SBHS<br />
from the Wood‐<br />
lands opening in<br />
1959 until I left with<br />
A levels to do a<br />
ʺthick sandwichʺ<br />
University Appren‐<br />
ticeship with Rolls‐<br />
Royce and Imperial<br />
College in 1966. I have read Summer<br />
Times for some years, contributed<br />
nothing, attended no dinners or any‐<br />
thing else, and generally been a lazy<br />
ʺmemberʺ. Shame on me! However I<br />
enjoyed the May 2011 Edition so much<br />
I am compelled to offer to bore your<br />
readers with a contribution of sorts. I<br />
too am ʺ diffidentʺ about my career<br />
but, if pushed to make a ʺlook at me<br />
statementʺ would point to a First Class<br />
honours degree at Imperial, a subse‐<br />
quent MBA with distinction at the<br />
Manchester Business School, a degree<br />
from Columbia University in New<br />
York, an OBE and a 40 year career<br />
with Rolls‐Royce. During that I headed<br />
the Civil Aero Engine Division, devel‐<br />
oped the world‐ beating ʺTrentʺ family<br />
of aero engines and retired as Director<br />
of Operations five years ago. Nowa‐<br />
days Iʹm very much retired and recrea‐<br />
tionally occupied.<br />
Enough of that embarrassing stuff;‐<br />
The High School gave me so much<br />
in retrospect. My parents were ordi‐<br />
nary working people, none of my fam‐<br />
ily had ever gone to University, and<br />
without SBHS Iʹm sure I would have
had a good life but so very different.<br />
The quality of education, viewed in<br />
retrospect, was truly outstanding.<br />
How sad it is that 50 years on it costs a<br />
small fortune to match it...and only in<br />
fee‐paying education.<br />
––So to Summer Times.<br />
The ʺbestʺ Rugby team was in fact<br />
1965 to 66 and not 66 to 67. . I would<br />
say that (I was Captain) but indeed<br />
Colin Rennard was an outstanding<br />
contributor. The coaches were heroes<br />
and I remember with great affection<br />
David (ʺthe chunkʺ) Eade and John<br />
(ʺoxʺ) Oxley. My dad had an Austin<br />
Pickup and when we had to play at<br />
Oliver’s Mount because Woodlandsʹ<br />
field was flooded. We packed the<br />
whole team in the back and haired it<br />
up the Mount. Great until we tried it<br />
for the Ilkley Sevens and everyone<br />
arrived car sick!<br />
For a short while I ʺwent out withʺ<br />
Mick Bowmanʹs sister , Maureen, on<br />
Saturday evenings and then one of the<br />
forwards, Mick (ʺ2 yardsʺ) Fewster<br />
and I played in a group of sorts called<br />
“The Mafia” . The highlight was when<br />
we played at a school dance and were<br />
able to use decent kit, courtesy of<br />
ʺJonty and the Strangersʺ The lead gui‐<br />
tar was Johnny (spudʺ) Speight, son of<br />
“Digger”<br />
I could go on . Iʹd better not;‐ But let<br />
me congratulate you and the team for<br />
a wonderfully nostalgic magazine.<br />
Maybe I SHOULD sign up for a<br />
Christmas lunch! Iʹm not on Facebook<br />
or any of that stuff by the way but am<br />
contactable at stantodd@btinternet.com<br />
16<br />
Ted Lancaster RN Rt<br />
(1949-54) writes… (albeit with<br />
no wish to “lower the tone”)<br />
A recent article in the Gazette<br />
Online on the old Slipper Baths in<br />
Middlesbrough reminded me of a tale<br />
I wrote some years ago for the enlight‐<br />
enment of my old Royal Navy ship‐<br />
mates. I reproduce it here for your<br />
amusement/horrification. (With<br />
apologies to the bath attendants of<br />
yesterday.)<br />
‐‐‐A Sad but True Tale of Misguided<br />
Inner Cleanliness<br />
If you are at all squeamish, prudish<br />
or happen to be eating supper at this<br />
moment then perhaps you might con‐<br />
sider an immediate deletion of this<br />
unhappy tale.<br />
As a young man I spent several<br />
years serving in Her Majestyʹs Royal<br />
Navy and, as is usual, I teamed up<br />
with a bunch of guys who had similar<br />
interests to my own, sailing‐boats,<br />
traditional jazz music and in particu‐<br />
lar, lifting weights, body building and<br />
physical culture.<br />
I refer to this sport as ʺPhysical<br />
Cultureʺ, because we tended to invest<br />
more into the pastime than simply<br />
ʹpushing ironʹ. We had special t‐shirts,<br />
tried our best, within the constraints of<br />
the service cuisine, to optimise the<br />
healthfulness of our diet and fatefully,<br />
at least in my case, we read the Physi‐<br />
cal Culture magazines considered, at<br />
that time, to be ʹinʹ.<br />
It was from one of these mags that<br />
the expression, ʺMens Sana In Corpore
Sanoʺ ‐ ʺHealthy mind in healthy bodyʺ,<br />
had the profound effect upon my<br />
thinking that was to prove not quite so<br />
beneficial in the longer term.<br />
There was an article in one of<br />
them propounding the benefits of<br />
ʺTotal Cleanlinessʺ; it went something<br />
along the lines of, ʺYou exercise your<br />
body and your mind. You take great care<br />
to maintain your personal cleanliness and<br />
hygiene. But what of inner cleanliness? It<br />
is most doubtful that there could ever be as<br />
much dirt on the surface of your skin as<br />
there exists at any one time on the inside of<br />
your body and yet how often do you con‐<br />
sider the cleanliness of the inside?ʺ It<br />
went on to extol the virtues of regular<br />
inner cleansing by the use of various<br />
medicinal and herbal tonics and in<br />
particular, regular and thorough colo‐<br />
nic irrigation. The wording had a<br />
most influential effect on my thinking<br />
and I began to feel a degree of concern<br />
that this aspect of personal hygiene<br />
and self‐care was, in my case, totally<br />
absent.<br />
Some time later after leaving the<br />
service I went to work as a laboratory<br />
assistant for the Imperial Chemical<br />
Industries in the North East. I rented a<br />
small bed‐sit in an area of Middles‐<br />
brough where the ʹCoronation Streetʹ<br />
type houses were almost totally de‐<br />
void of sanitation. There was an out‐<br />
side privy at the end of the yard and<br />
no bathroom whatsoever. I was able<br />
to address this issue by the use of the<br />
showers at the laboratory where I was<br />
working, but my most enjoyable indul‐<br />
gence lay in the use of the magnificent<br />
public slipper baths in town.<br />
17<br />
Once a week I would flounder to<br />
my hearts total contentment in a huge<br />
tub of deep hot water in one of the<br />
private and totally enclosed bath‐tub<br />
cubicles in Middlesbrough town cen‐<br />
tre.<br />
On completion of the ablution one<br />
was required to leave the contents of<br />
the tub un‐emptied to facilitate the<br />
efforts of the attendant, with his wad‐<br />
ers and scrubbing‐broom, in his task of<br />
cleaning down and emptying the bath‐<br />
tub. To this end, all the controls, in‐<br />
cluding the drain‐plug‐release and the<br />
two inlet‐tap controls, were on the<br />
outside of the cubicle and therefore<br />
virtually inaccessible to the occupant.<br />
It was on such a steamy, dreamy<br />
half‐submerged occasion that I began<br />
to muse upon the contents of the ʹInner<br />
Cleanlinessʹ article that had impressed<br />
me during my Physical Culture days.<br />
A brilliant idea began to hatch. I could<br />
ʹborrowʹ from the laboratory, the nec‐<br />
essary pieces of equipment to fashion a<br />
most efficient instrument of internal<br />
irrigation.<br />
A large glass funnel to hold aloft<br />
containing a visible supply of irrigat‐<br />
ing solution, plus a toughened glass<br />
dropper‐tube for safe and comfortable<br />
insertion and a sufficient length of<br />
rubber tubing to link both together<br />
would be an easily assembled and<br />
efficient item of equipment. And so on<br />
my subsequent visit to the baths I was<br />
joyfully armed with my brilliant new<br />
inner‐hygiene and total‐cleanliness<br />
device, all ready to become the clean‐<br />
est clean Iʹd ever been. All I would<br />
have to do would be to take my soak
as usual, then just before leaving the<br />
tub, treat myself to a quart or two of the<br />
warm soapy water, get out, dry and<br />
dress myself and wander off noncha‐<br />
lantly to the toilet area to complete the<br />
cycle.<br />
All seemed to be going extremely<br />
well ‐ until I exited the tub and having<br />
dried myself, began to dress.<br />
I became increasingly and very<br />
worryingly aware of a mounting and<br />
demanding pressure from my innards.<br />
As the pressure rapidly increased it<br />
became an uncontrollable insistence for<br />
immediate release. In my still some‐<br />
what somnolent state from having<br />
spent so long in the deep warmth of the<br />
tub, I struggled fiercely to clear my<br />
brain of the clinging fog and to produce<br />
a brilliant escape plan whereby I could<br />
dress, escape from the cubicle, cross the<br />
building to the toilet area, partially<br />
undress again and perform the neces‐<br />
sary expulsion all in the space of point<br />
seven two of a second.<br />
I failed....<br />
The only plan my horror‐panicked<br />
brain could fashion was to leap back<br />
into the tub wearing only a string vest<br />
and to give release to what by now felt<br />
like the entire contents of the bath tub<br />
screaming to be returned from whence<br />
it came. And return it did.<br />
The rapid feeling of intense and<br />
instant physical relief was somewhat<br />
marred by the sight which I was now<br />
obliged to contemplate. Not to be<br />
overly and indiscreetly graphic, let me<br />
simply state that the assertion by the<br />
original article that there was more on<br />
18<br />
the inside than on the outside had been,<br />
until that moment, perfectly correct,<br />
but not any longer. I was standing,<br />
knee‐deep, in just a string vest, totally<br />
and completely surrounded by an<br />
ocean of tiny floating nodules ranging<br />
in size from grains of rice to marrowfat<br />
peas, slowly undulating with the gently<br />
flowing motion of the bath water<br />
Now you will recall my earlier de‐<br />
scription of the bath tub exterior con‐<br />
trols. There was no way of disposing of<br />
my indiscretion ‐ of draining the tub of<br />
its disreputable contents. What was I to<br />
do? What could I possibly do? Sneak<br />
out leaving the wadered and scrubbing<br />
‐broomed attendant to make the grisly<br />
discovery, or should I attempt to fash‐<br />
ion yet another brilliant plan?<br />
I waited, listening for signs and<br />
sounds of the attendantʹs presence out‐<br />
side the door. On judging that he had<br />
temporarily left the area, I unlocked the<br />
cubicle door, sneaked out, operated the<br />
drain mechanism and scuttled quickly<br />
back inside as the horrific contents of<br />
the tub slowly subsided.<br />
I spent the next twenty minutes<br />
engineering small pieces of the offend‐<br />
ing detritus down the reluctant drain<br />
hole, repeatedly sneaking out to oper‐<br />
ate the filling mechanism with the<br />
drain still open in an effort to persuade<br />
the final morsels to exit as I endeav‐<br />
oured to leave the tub in as pristine a<br />
condition as I possibly could. After a<br />
total stay of what must have ap‐<br />
proached two hours, I tried to wander<br />
out as nonchalantly as my quaking<br />
nervous system would allow under<br />
what I felt to be the accusing stare of
the sneering attendant. ʺHave a good<br />
bath?” he leered, mockingly, leaning at<br />
an odd angle against his broom.<br />
I did not reply, nor did I ever dare<br />
return.<br />
Ray Bloom (1953-60)<br />
writes…<br />
The latest edition<br />
of ‘Summer Times’<br />
did it. It finally got<br />
my head down to<br />
submitting a contri‐<br />
bution to a publica‐<br />
tion which brings<br />
back so many schoolboy memories.<br />
Previous intentions petered out with<br />
thoughts that my reminiscences would<br />
be of little interest. You see I made<br />
little impact academically, feeling very<br />
unworldly after arriving in 1953 from<br />
a small West Riding village.<br />
However, some memories might<br />
ring a few bells with my contemporar‐<br />
ies, such as frequent pranks on an ex‐<br />
asperated ‘Biff’ Smith by Charlie Hall<br />
and Dave Perfect. I also remember<br />
chemistry teacher Mr. Liddicott stress‐<br />
ing us not to use the bunsen burner,<br />
only to see smoke billowing from Pete<br />
Dimond’s bench – “Dimond, I specifi‐<br />
cally told you not to light the bunsen<br />
burner”.<br />
Although fearful of chess detention by<br />
‘Bon’ Clarke, I picked up a smattering<br />
of chess, which subsequently proved<br />
useful. The long winter walks up<br />
Oliver’s Mount, changing in the huts,<br />
before freezing to death trying to<br />
avoid that dangerous rugby game. As<br />
19<br />
a soccer player I couldn’t come to<br />
terms with all that falling about, run‐<br />
ning with the ball and all that barging<br />
and pushing. Again, it provided me<br />
with an introduction to the game and<br />
subsequently allowed me to enjoy the<br />
game as a spectator.<br />
As a soccer player, developing my<br />
skills with a tennis ball at break times<br />
in the lower playground with the likes<br />
of Mick Walmsley, my upper body<br />
strength was found lacking when<br />
climbing the ropes in the gym, under<br />
the watchful eyes of Jock Roxburgh,<br />
then his successor, Jameson? When<br />
unable to hold on any longer, I remem‐<br />
ber the burning sensation from de‐<br />
scending too quickly was extremely<br />
painful.<br />
However, the summer term was my<br />
favourite. It provided me with an op‐<br />
portunity to achieve. As my parents<br />
ran a small hotel opposite the cricket<br />
ground on North Marine Road, I spent<br />
most of the summer in the nets and<br />
playing for the club teams. It also gave<br />
me some status at school.<br />
Immediately prior to arriving in<br />
Scarborough as a 12‐year‐old from my<br />
small village, I had played cricket for<br />
an under‐17 team, which impressed<br />
the cricket teacher, so I was immedi‐<br />
ately earmarked with potential and<br />
played for each successive school<br />
team. An early memory is of a 1 st Xl<br />
match against Hymers College, I think,<br />
when Robin Shaw’s flighted leg<br />
breaks claimed all ten wickets, which I<br />
viewed at close quarters as<br />
wicket=keeper. The memory has re‐<br />
mained with me as one of his flighted
deliveries ricocheted off a bail and left<br />
a dent on my nose to this day.<br />
The 1 st Xl entered the Hospital Cup<br />
knockout competition and gave us an<br />
opportunity to test ourselves against<br />
the might of the local village cricketers.<br />
We had some fine cricketers in the<br />
team – ace‐tactician Captain Dick<br />
Hartley, stylish Graham Thornton,<br />
ferocious Dave Steele, guileful Robin<br />
Shaw, smooth left‐armer Ken Short,<br />
rhythmic Jim Megson etc.<br />
I remember with satisfaction a<br />
match at the top village team at the<br />
time, Cloughton, who really fancied<br />
their chances against a team of ‘lads’,<br />
as their team included the Readmans<br />
and Johnny Sheffield, reputedly the<br />
fastest and most feared bowler around.<br />
In spite of extreme trepidation and to<br />
my great surprise, I picked up his first<br />
bumper and dispatched it into the next<br />
field. The locals were shocked!<br />
Other memories – moving up to<br />
Woodlands was a mixed blessing.<br />
Although better facilities, particularly<br />
sports on site, it was a longer journey<br />
than into town and the newness of the<br />
fabric meant we had to ‘tiptoe’ around<br />
the place.<br />
After leaving school I went into<br />
Physical Education teaching to con‐<br />
tinue with my passion for sports. Dur‐<br />
ing breaks from my teacher training I<br />
rose through the cricket ranks with the<br />
County Club, culminating in selection<br />
for the County side on their Southern<br />
tour of 3 matches in 1964. The last<br />
match, against Kent at Dover proved<br />
to be an amazing one‐man show (no,<br />
20<br />
not me!). On a drying pitch, that ace<br />
all‐rounder Ray Illingworth eked out<br />
135 runs, then took 7 for 49, followed<br />
by 7 for 52. I fell for 2, but took a cou‐<br />
ple of catches as my contribution to an<br />
easy win. Playing with Fred Trueman,<br />
Brian Close and the great Yorkshire<br />
players of that era gave me so many<br />
treasured memories to savour.<br />
I owe a great debt of thanks to the<br />
school and the staff, particularly Bob<br />
Watson, for giving me the encourage‐<br />
ment and opportunity to make a sport‐<br />
ing mark, which led to mixing with the<br />
County’s cricketing greats.<br />
Knowing I was not quite good<br />
enough to make a living at cricket I<br />
focused on my teaching career, which<br />
eventually took me to work in Malawi,<br />
Egypt and now Thailand for retire‐<br />
ment, where I have fallen into organiz‐<br />
ing golf groups, most noticeably as<br />
Captain of the British Club golf section<br />
in Bangkok.<br />
It was a great pleasure to meet up with<br />
Geoff Winn and his fellow <strong>Old</strong> Scar‐<br />
borians at Ganton last year for some<br />
reminiscing and the occasional decent<br />
golf shot.<br />
Bryn Jones (1972-3)<br />
writes…<br />
I only went to the High School<br />
for 1 year, because it then changed<br />
to the Graham Secondary Modern<br />
School, which I think was probably<br />
a shame. My brother Rhys who is<br />
7 years older than me, initially<br />
went to Westwood but then after<br />
his 0 Levels came to the High
School to do his A levels. I know he<br />
has very fond memories of particu‐<br />
larly playing football and rugby for<br />
the School (he was also playing<br />
football in goal with Scarborough<br />
and Colin Appletonʹs team at the<br />
time ‐ before going to Loughbor‐<br />
ough and playing at England<br />
school, Uni. and amateur level‐<br />
always refusing to turn profes‐<br />
sional). For a few years after high<br />
school while still living in England,<br />
I know he enjoyed coming back to<br />
play second row in the <strong>Old</strong> Scar‐<br />
borians rugby game against the<br />
Scarborough Rugby Club on Boxing<br />
day.<br />
I also know he enjoys getting<br />
the publication even though he has<br />
been living in the USA for the last<br />
30 years. I have sometimes thought<br />
of coming to the Dinner, but donʹt<br />
think I will know anyone as I was<br />
there only briefly. However itʹs a<br />
great little publication and Associa‐<br />
tion and much appreciated.<br />
Derrick Craven (1933-38)<br />
writes…<br />
I am afraid I did not see ʺSummer<br />
Timesʺ when it appeared in May as I<br />
had a spell in hospital, but shortly after<br />
I got back home, my wife had a heart<br />
attack and she passed away on 24th<br />
May, and I have been too distraught<br />
since then to read the Magazine. It has<br />
been a tremendous loss as we were<br />
married for almost 64 years. I do not<br />
think that I notified anybody of my<br />
new email so I can put that right now.<br />
I did see the obituary for Bob An‐<br />
drews, who was at school the same<br />
21<br />
time as me. We lived for a time in Ten‐<br />
nyson Avenue, but we lost touch when<br />
we left School. He worked at the Town<br />
Hall while I had a spell at an estate<br />
Agent, waiting to join the Air Force<br />
which I did in August 1940. I did hear<br />
that he joined the Police somewhere<br />
down south, but I spent most of the<br />
war abroad in Africa and then in Nor‐<br />
way, and left UK early in 1950, to work<br />
in East Africa.<br />
***<br />
OBITUARIES<br />
Alan Handyside<br />
‐26th April 2011<br />
John Christopherson<br />
John Christopherson died at his home<br />
in Greenwich, Connecticut, USA on 9th March 2011. He was sent with his<br />
brothers to Canada during the war and<br />
came back to Scarborough in 1944. He<br />
left the School in 49 and enrolled at the<br />
King Edward VII Nautical School in<br />
London and served in the Merchant<br />
Marine until he was conscripted into<br />
the RAF in 1951. There he trained as<br />
fighter pilot but left after his 2 year<br />
spell of duty. His career was in Banking<br />
and he held positions in the Foreign<br />
Exhange function of several banks in<br />
the UK, Canada and finally in New<br />
York. He leaves a wife Margo, two chil‐<br />
dren and his younger brother Barry is<br />
also a member of the OSA.<br />
Peter Robson (1945‐53)
Gilbert Gray QC<br />
(Extract from The Daily Telegraph)<br />
“Gilbert Gray QC, who died on<br />
April 7 th 2011 aged 82, was amongst<br />
the Bar’s greatest orators and was de‐<br />
scribed as an heir “to the great gladato‐<br />
rial titans vividly<br />
described by An‐<br />
thony Trollope”.<br />
A consum‐<br />
mate criminal<br />
advocate,<br />
“Gillie” (as he<br />
was known to<br />
his friends) was<br />
admired for his devastating cross‐<br />
examinations and rousing closing<br />
speeches to the jury. It was Robert<br />
Alexander, himself acclaimed by Lord<br />
Denning as the finest barrister of his<br />
generation, who linked Gray’s name<br />
with that of George Carman when he<br />
portrayed them as “the modern heirs”<br />
to Trollope’s legal titans.<br />
Certainly Gray never shrank from<br />
the theatrical courtroom gesture, and<br />
would often quote poetry or Shake‐<br />
speare. “Every line a headline, every<br />
phrase a gem,” noted junior prosecuting<br />
counsel, as Gray eloquently addressed<br />
the jury in his most famous case, that<br />
of the defence of Donald Neilson,<br />
known as “the Black Panther”. Neilson,<br />
already accused of shooting dead three<br />
sub‐postmasters, stood trial in 1976 for<br />
the kidnap and murder of the 17‐year‐<br />
old coach company heiress Lesley<br />
Whittle. She had been found naked<br />
and hanged in a drainage shaft at<br />
Bathpool Park, Kidsgrove, having been<br />
abducted from the family home in<br />
22<br />
Shropshire in January 1975. A £50,000<br />
ransom had been demanded.<br />
Neilson pleaded guilty to kidnap<br />
and blackmail, but denied murder,<br />
leaving Gray with a Herculean task of<br />
advocacy. One of his tactics was to<br />
create what one observer called “a<br />
tonal doubt”, by introducing an unex‐<br />
pected note of humour: “You have heard<br />
much,” Gray told the jury “about Mr<br />
Neilson and the Black Panther; but you<br />
may, when you have heard of this man’s<br />
pathetic attempts to ʹmake it big’, think<br />
rather of the Pink Panther and Mr Peter<br />
Sellers.” Gray even went so far as to<br />
portray the former Army lance‐<br />
corporal as a Walter Mitty character<br />
with fantasies of military supremacy.<br />
From his place on the bench, the trial<br />
judge’s son, the writer Adam Mars‐<br />
Jones (just down from Cambridge and<br />
serving as his father’s marshal), would<br />
later record Neilson fixing Gray with a<br />
“stare of rage” at this “enormously<br />
unwelcome” line of defence. Gray, he<br />
added, appeared “bothered and almost<br />
distracted” in the sweltering courtroom,<br />
never ceasing to adjust his dress “as if the<br />
reasonable doubt of which he seeks to con‐<br />
vince the jury were roving as an itch be‐<br />
neath wig and gown”.<br />
He did not satisfy that itch, and<br />
Neilson was convicted on all but two<br />
of seven counts, receiving five life sen‐<br />
tences. The trial had undoubtedly<br />
tested Gray to the limit, but he contin‐<br />
ued to flourish in countless other high‐<br />
profile murder cases, occasionally re‐<br />
flecting on his early days in court<br />
when convicted defendants could be<br />
turned over to the hangman. He re‐
membered correcting a young barrister<br />
who had arrived for his first capital<br />
case clad in his best pinstripe suit:<br />
“Always wear black for murder trials my<br />
boy, always wear black.”<br />
He was leader of the North‐Eastern<br />
Circuit from 1984 to 1987, entertaining<br />
many robing rooms with his stories.<br />
Meanwhile, in the courtroom itself, his<br />
colleagues wondered at his verbal dex‐<br />
terity: “He makes you feel as if English is<br />
not your first language,” declared one<br />
fellow Silk. A celebrated raconteur and<br />
wit, Gray was in great demand as an<br />
after‐dinner speaker. In one of his fa‐<br />
vourite jury stories, he related how “12<br />
good men and true” were selected, but<br />
asked to wait at the back of the court<br />
while another case was concluded. The<br />
judge then invited them to “take their<br />
rightful place”. To a man, Gray recalled,<br />
“they climbed into the dock”.<br />
Gilbert Gray was born on April 25<br />
1928 at Scarborough, the son of a<br />
butcher. Educated at Scarborough<br />
Boys’ High School, he first encountered<br />
the richness of the English language at<br />
his local Salvation Army Hall and by<br />
listening to Methodist preachers. He<br />
would base his courtroom style on the<br />
rolling cadences he had heard as a boy.<br />
After National Service in the Army, he<br />
went to Leeds University, initially read‐<br />
ing Theology before switching to the<br />
Law. He was president of the Student<br />
Union in his final year and was called<br />
to the Bar in 1953.<br />
Gray took Silk in 1971, developing a<br />
national and international reputation in<br />
civil as well as criminal law. He repre‐<br />
23<br />
sented the disgraced Newcastle archi‐<br />
tect John Poulson at his appeal; ap‐<br />
peared in the Spycatcher case in Aus‐<br />
tralia, when the British government<br />
tried to block the autobiography of the<br />
former MI5 assistant director Peter<br />
Wright; and was involved in both the<br />
arms‐to‐Iraq trial involving senior ex‐<br />
ecutives of Matrix Churchill, and the<br />
Brink’s‐Mat bullion robbery trial.<br />
He appeared for the former England<br />
football manager Don Revie in his case<br />
against a Football <strong>Association</strong> suspen‐<br />
sion, and, in 1980, for the family of<br />
Jimmy Kelly, a Liverpool labourer who<br />
had died in police custody the previous<br />
year. He appeared in public inquiries<br />
into the Selby coalfield, the Leeds air‐<br />
port expansion and, in 1987, the sinking<br />
of the Herald of Free Enterprise ferry at<br />
Zeebrugge. Gray also sat as a crown<br />
court Recorder between 1972 and 1998,<br />
often at the <strong>Old</strong> Bailey, and was proud<br />
to have spent 40 years as a Silk without<br />
retiring. He was head of York Cham‐<br />
bers at his death.<br />
Away from the courtroom, Gray stood<br />
unsuccessfully for Parliament for the<br />
Liberals in 1955 and 1959. He was an<br />
accomplished artist, and appeared as a<br />
panellist on Radio 4’s Any Questions.<br />
An enthusiastic amateur sailor, he<br />
taught his children how to navigate<br />
back into Scarborough harbour by aim‐<br />
ing for the painted white gable of their<br />
grandmother’s home. He never forgave<br />
Scarborough council for not renewing<br />
its contract with Max Jaffa, the musi‐<br />
cian whose concerts with the Palm<br />
Court Orchestra were broadcast from
the resort by the BBC for 25 years. He<br />
was a keen supporter of the RNLI both<br />
at Scarborough, where he was station<br />
president, and nationally, becoming an<br />
honorary life vice‐president.<br />
Gilbert Gray married, in 1954, Dilys<br />
Thomas, who survives him with their<br />
two sons and two daughters. His ashes<br />
are to be scattered from the Scarbor‐<br />
ough lifeboat over the South Bay.”<br />
Ray Lazenby (1935 - 40)<br />
Written and sent by Richard Lazenby<br />
(1963 ‐ 70)<br />
Sadly Ray passed away in April 2011.<br />
He remained in good health until just<br />
before his death at the age of 87. He<br />
was a regular contributor to ʺThe Sum‐<br />
mer Timesʺ and a<br />
devout <strong>Old</strong> Boy. He<br />
was very happily<br />
married to Jean for<br />
61 years and had 4<br />
children and 9<br />
grandchildren. Two<br />
or his children,<br />
Richard and Tim,<br />
followed him to SBHS before its prema‐<br />
ture closure in 1974.<br />
The following is basically his own<br />
obituary. He wanted everything to be<br />
correct. In his day everything was<br />
checked and double checked!<br />
Ray was born 22nd August 1923 in<br />
Bradford, the third son of William and<br />
Emma. In 1926 the family moved to<br />
Scarborough and his father started a<br />
business as a stained glass artist and<br />
leaded light maker. He attended<br />
24<br />
Falsgrave Infant and Junior School,<br />
Hinderwell Junior School and Scalby C<br />
of E School when the family moved to<br />
Cleveland Avenue. In 1935 he attended<br />
Scarborough High School for Boys,<br />
remaining there until 1940.<br />
From 1940 until 1941 he worked in<br />
the Treasurerʹs department of Scarbor‐<br />
ough Corporation. One of his duties<br />
was to accompany the clerks when they<br />
emptied the public lavatories coin<br />
boxes to ensure they did not pocket the<br />
proceeds! He was also a fire watcher at<br />
the Town Hall ‐ to tackle any incendi‐<br />
ary bombs Jerry might drop on it!<br />
In 1941 he joined The Scarborough<br />
Evening News as a junior reporter and<br />
in 1943 helped to cover the Vine Street<br />
murder for which Scotland Yard was<br />
called in. A womanʹs body was found<br />
in a garage inspection pit. The mystery<br />
was never solved!<br />
In May 1943 Ray joined the RAF at<br />
Lords Cricket Ground, London for air‐<br />
crew training. After initial training he<br />
was sent to South Africa where he so‐<br />
loed on Tiger Moths and Harvards but<br />
eventually qualified as a bomb‐<br />
aimer/navigator. He was commissioned<br />
in 1945 and sent to Cairo, Egypt as an<br />
intelligence officer.<br />
By April 1947 he was decommis‐<br />
sioned and back at the Evening News.<br />
He became the football, theatre and<br />
pigeon racer reviewer and subse‐<br />
quently became a sub‐ editor. In 1960<br />
he was made News Editor, and this<br />
was followed in 1965 by being made<br />
Editor. During the following 25 years<br />
there were many noteable high lights to
his career which include producing a<br />
paper single handed for seven weeks<br />
during a journalist strike. He was also<br />
President of of the North‐East Region<br />
of the Guild of British Newspaper Edi‐<br />
tors in the late 1970’s.<br />
Ray retired in July 1986 soon after<br />
The Scarborough Evening News was<br />
sold by the Whittaker family to East<br />
Midland Allied Press.<br />
Since that day in 1986 Ray has en‐<br />
joyed nearly 25 years of retirement. He<br />
has spent much of it with his family at<br />
home in his beloved Scarborough or<br />
travelling to many distant places. He<br />
is, and always will be, missed by all<br />
that knew him. He was a gentleman<br />
and a gentle man.<br />
Ray Lazenby (1935-40)<br />
(Extract from The Scarborough Evening<br />
News)<br />
A former regional daily journalist<br />
who edited his hometown paper for<br />
more than two decades has died aged<br />
87. Ray Lazenby, Editor of the Scar‐<br />
borough Evening News from 1965<br />
until his retirement in 1986, passed<br />
away after a short illness at Scarbor‐<br />
ough Hospital on Easter Sunday. He<br />
had joined the Evening News as a re‐<br />
porter in 1941, returning as football,<br />
theatre and pigeon correspondent in<br />
1947 after a break for war service.<br />
After rising through the ranks, he suc‐<br />
ceeded Sir Meredith Whittaker in the<br />
editor’s chair where he would remain<br />
for 21 years, overseeing 12,000 editions<br />
of the paper.<br />
25<br />
The current editor of the Evening<br />
News, Ed Asquith, was among those<br />
who attended Ray’s funeral service<br />
yesterday. He said: “Joining Mr<br />
Lazenby’s family and friends were many<br />
members of the wider Scarborough com‐<br />
munity whose presence showed how he,<br />
and his role at the newspaper, had left a<br />
lasting and respected impression among<br />
the public as well as his profession.”<br />
Born in Bradford in 1923, Ray<br />
moved to Scarborough three years<br />
later when his father, William, started<br />
a business as a stained glass artist and<br />
leaded‐light maker. He was a Scarbor‐<br />
ough High School for Boys student<br />
from 1935 to 1940 and worked briefly<br />
in the Scarborough Corporation Treas‐<br />
urer’s department before he began his<br />
newspaper career.<br />
As a reporter he covered the infa‐<br />
mous 1943 Vine Street murder, when<br />
33‐year‐old Mary Comins was stran‐<br />
gled, but a promising career in journal‐<br />
ism was interrupted later that year,<br />
when he signed up to the RAF. He<br />
learned to fly Tiger Moth and Harvard<br />
aircraft in South Africa, before qualify‐<br />
ing as a bomb‐aimer and navigator.<br />
The pull of his local newspaper proved<br />
too strong though, and he rejoined the<br />
Evening News in 1947, becoming a sub<br />
‐editor and news editor before eventu‐<br />
ally succeeding Sir Meredith.<br />
His wife Jean said: “Ray looked up to<br />
Meredith. They had a very good working<br />
relationship. He had offers, but he was<br />
never really tempted to move to a larger<br />
newspaper. He always said he couldn’t be<br />
away from the seaside.He was so enthusi‐<br />
astic about his town – he loved Scarbor‐
ough. He really was a lovely, loyal man.”<br />
As well as his passion for journalism,<br />
Ray loved the theatre and amateur dra‐<br />
matics and was a lifelong fan of Ever‐<br />
ton FC. He leaves his wife of 61 years,<br />
four children and nine grandchildren.<br />
Ray Lazenby<br />
David Hepworth (1951-58) remembers<br />
I was sorry to hear that Ray, my old<br />
boss at the Scarborough Evening News,<br />
had gone to that Great Newsroom in<br />
the Sky.<br />
Ray was news editor when I joined<br />
the paper as a junior reporter in Sep‐<br />
tember 1958, and took me under his<br />
wing. I remember him as a very calm<br />
man with an encyclopaedic knowledge<br />
of the town, who knew EVERYBODY.<br />
He rarely raised his voice (unlike<br />
some excitable execs I later met on na‐<br />
tional newspapers!) and took a new<br />
boy’s bloopers in his stride. Well, he<br />
HAD seen it all before, and it was quite<br />
a jump for me from toiling over A‐level<br />
English and history essays to reporting<br />
road crashes, court stories. and helping<br />
to write the gossipy Mems. column.<br />
The Evening News was a happy of‐<br />
fice, and I enjoyed my four years there,<br />
thanks in no small measure to Ray’s<br />
understanding, and guiding hand.<br />
Maybe it was his time learning to fly in<br />
the wartime RAF that made him so<br />
unflappable. He certainly helped<br />
launch me on a long career in the busy,<br />
inky world of local and national news‐<br />
papers, for which I have always been<br />
grateful.<br />
26<br />
Inevitably, he later got the top job as<br />
THE editor. It was well‐deserved.<br />
Roy Axe (1948-53)<br />
Steve Williamson writes…<br />
I came to know Roy when he came to<br />
the Boyʹs High School. He had recently<br />
moved with his parents from Lincoln‐<br />
shire. His parents opened a shop on<br />
Ramshill Road, and they and Roy lived<br />
in what I regarded as substantial ac‐<br />
commodation over the shop. Roy was<br />
able to run an ambitious Hornby Dublo<br />
train system through the flat, but more<br />
importantly, as time went on he found<br />
space to indulge what became his life‐<br />
long passion for drawing and design‐<br />
ing cars. His drawings seemed very<br />
futuristic by the standard of the early<br />
1950s,but they were apparently to<br />
scale, and, he claimed, would fit on<br />
chassis of known cars of the day.<br />
We would fall in step often walking<br />
to and from school and we would talk,<br />
both of us. We attended St. Martinʹs<br />
Church together and as we walked<br />
round Scarborough and the sea front,<br />
one of the topics of conversation was<br />
his ambition to be a car designer.<br />
How fortunate he was to have the<br />
backing and encouragement of his fa‐<br />
ther and an uncle. At the age of sixteen<br />
he must have attained good O levels<br />
in the necessary subjects, include I feel<br />
sure, mechanical drawing. With his<br />
father he went for an interview in Cov‐<br />
entry with Rootes Group and was ac‐<br />
cepted as an apprentice in the engineer‐<br />
ing department. This was not exactly<br />
where he wanted to be, but during the
course of the engineering apprentice‐<br />
ship his enthusiasm for drawing was<br />
noticed and he transferred to the de‐<br />
sign team, initially on a trial basis, but<br />
remained there for the rest of his ap‐<br />
prenticeship.<br />
During his deferred National Ser‐<br />
vice in the Army he met and married<br />
his wife Pat, a nursing sister and dur‐<br />
ing their busy life she presented him<br />
with a daughter, lane, and a son<br />
Christopher.<br />
After National Service Roy returned<br />
to Rootes Group, and during 1965‐7 he<br />
led a project to develop and produce<br />
what was to be the last Sunbeam Ra‐<br />
pier. Also at that time he was involved<br />
in some way with the Hillman Imp,<br />
though not apparently very pleased<br />
with it. His autobiography describes<br />
the technical difficulties he had with<br />
the engineering departments with<br />
some of his innovative ideas, but he<br />
was leading a design team, and at the<br />
age of 29 when Chrysler and Roots<br />
amalgamated in UK he became design<br />
director of Rootes Chrysler UK .<br />
In the late 1960s Rootes gave way to<br />
Chrysler, and Chrysler Europe<br />
evolved. The Alpine designed under<br />
Royʹs leadership won the 1976 Car of<br />
the Year Award. 1976 was a year of<br />
change and challenge, because he was<br />
appointed Director of Interior Design at<br />
Chrysler International. This meant<br />
moving with his family to Detroit.<br />
Chrysler was not enjoying the most<br />
commercial success with motorcars and<br />
Roy adapted to the task of making cars<br />
more attractive to the American market<br />
but also designing speedboats and<br />
trucks to trail them. It is apparent that<br />
27<br />
during this period he came to know<br />
and respect other car designers and<br />
characters and he in turn gained wide<br />
respect in his field. He seemed to at‐<br />
tract companies which were desperate<br />
for a lift out of trouble, because in 1981<br />
he came back to UK to Austin Rover<br />
and was involved with the develop‐<br />
ment of the Rover 800, but was also<br />
visiting Japan owing to theassociation<br />
with Honda. Other motor companies of<br />
that era sought his inspiration and I<br />
know that at some stage he was in‐<br />
volved with Jaguar cars.<br />
In the late 1960s when Roy was Di‐<br />
rector of Design at Chrysler UK he was<br />
approached by the Royal College of<br />
Artsʹ Professor Misha Black who was in<br />
charge of the study of industrial de‐<br />
sign. With others, Roy helped to estab‐<br />
lish an automotive design course. A<br />
similar course was set up in Coventry.<br />
So when he was back in UK he became<br />
involved again on this educational<br />
side. In the 1990s he became a Board<br />
Member of Birminghamʹs Polytechnic<br />
later the University of Central England<br />
and remained in post until he retired.<br />
He was awarded a Fellowship of the<br />
University of Coventry and a Doctorate<br />
of the University of Birmingham. An<br />
initiative he had supported in the 1960s<br />
developed not only in this country, but,<br />
as he was proud to observe, also in<br />
Germany.<br />
The latter part of his career was di‐<br />
verse and reflected his renowned abil‐<br />
ity as a designer as he became in‐<br />
volved in design with a number of<br />
different car producers, but also in<br />
designing the interior of private air‐<br />
craft, including aircraft for certain oil
Sheikhs who had very particular re‐<br />
quirements.<br />
Rover Group (including BAE) set up<br />
a subsidiary design organisation<br />
which Roy was asked to lead. This<br />
was known as Design Research As‐<br />
sociates located near Leamington<br />
Spa. This became an independent<br />
company known as Design Research<br />
Associates Limited and provided for<br />
Roy most happy and satisfying final<br />
years of his career in motorcars and<br />
style. He retired in 1999. He and his<br />
wife Pat lived in Florida until his<br />
death.<br />
Although Roy left school when I was<br />
only fifteen we retained contact<br />
through all the years till his death in<br />
2010, by letters, and more recently e<br />
mail and telephone. I was last with him<br />
at a party for his 70 th birthday at the<br />
home of his daughter in Chipping<br />
Camden, in 2007. It was a most happy<br />
occasion. Typically, on the following<br />
day he insisted on inspecting my newly<br />
acquire Lexus car, a make he had rec‐<br />
ommended. His autobiographyʺ A Life<br />
in Styleʺ was published three days after<br />
he died.<br />
John Mason (I958-65)<br />
From Sandra Orlando –May 2011<br />
Iʹm sad to report that John Mason<br />
died a couple of weeks ago. Always<br />
known as ʹMaseʹ at school, he will be<br />
particularly remembered by the rugby<br />
crowd, as he played for Scarborough as<br />
well as for various school teams. Mase<br />
attended Northstead School before the<br />
28<br />
High School, and then went on to Shef‐<br />
field University. He left School at 16<br />
with the intention of becoming a sports<br />
journalist, until he realized that that<br />
career would interfere with playing<br />
ʺmy beloved rugby.ʺ So he went back to<br />
school and did ʹAʹ levels. He lived all<br />
his working life in the Durham area,<br />
becoming Managing Director of a bak‐<br />
ery supply company, but retired back<br />
to Scarborough a number of years ago<br />
when his wife became terminally ill.<br />
They lived near the Ivanhoe (Scholes<br />
Park Avenue?), but John later moved to<br />
Bridlington.<br />
John had had a long battle with can‐<br />
cer and heart disease, but he remained<br />
cheerful, ebullient, and defiant (of his<br />
illnesses) to the end.<br />
John Leefe (1935-41)<br />
John Leefe , BSc, OBE died at his<br />
home in Burniston on July 21st 2011. He<br />
was a forester by trade<br />
and worked internation‐<br />
ally, particularly in Cy‐<br />
prus. Locally he was<br />
President of the Scar‐<br />
borough Forty Club and<br />
served as a parish<br />
Councillor for Burniston. He Leaves<br />
his wife Sybil and three sons.
NOTES ON SPORT<br />
Peter Dawson (1950-58)<br />
(Peter Dawson’s notes<br />
on Sport as he recalls it<br />
(with the comment that<br />
this was not one of his<br />
strong points, as an<br />
ornithologist first).)<br />
1. Everyone remembers the film‐<br />
Chariots of Fire. The Scottish Lord’s Day<br />
Observance sprinter, whose name I<br />
cannot remember, missed out on Gold<br />
for the 100 yd because the race was<br />
held on a Sunday in the 1920s Olym‐<br />
pics. (He eventually became a mission‐<br />
ary in China and died in a Japanese<br />
prison camp of meningitis). So instead<br />
he entered the 440 yd and ran it like a<br />
sprint,” with arms flailing‐ and was<br />
never breasted”. In the 50s, Ruskin had<br />
few good athletes, but in the 440 yd we<br />
had one. Name? ‐‐Entry 1949 or 8. He<br />
ran it at a furious pace and by 300 yd<br />
was at least 50 yd up on his nearest<br />
rival. Then inevitably, as his ATP levels<br />
fell and his lactate levels rose, he got<br />
slower and slower but always came in<br />
first, though it was a close run thing.<br />
2. Ruskin’s greatest sprinter was<br />
undoubtedly John ( Lemm) Brinkler.<br />
With his long legs and beautiful action,<br />
he was a joy to watch. His final burst of<br />
speed over the last 30 yd of the 100 yd<br />
race left great rivals like Ridley and<br />
Motteshead several feet adrift.<br />
3. In the mid 50s the Duke of Edin‐<br />
burgh Scheme for encouraging track<br />
events came on stream. The idea was to<br />
get as many kids as possible just at‐<br />
29<br />
tempting to exert themselves and<br />
points were awarded in three catego‐<br />
ries for any event. The lowest was for<br />
an “average ability” (my level) then<br />
came the “superior “level, and finally<br />
the “Victor Ludorum” stuff ( Lemm).<br />
Lemm was very dedicated to raise the<br />
maximum number of points possible<br />
for Ruskin House, despite the meagre<br />
potential available to him. In this re‐<br />
spect, I think he got us to the top of the<br />
house tables. So it was that he made me<br />
cycle up the Mount after school one<br />
evening just to get me running the 440<br />
for a couple of points. He was very<br />
encouraging, but could not hide his<br />
disbelief that I could not keep up with<br />
him when he was only in idling mode. I<br />
was quite content with my 2 points.<br />
4. Most of us cycled up to the<br />
Mounts playing fields ‐ the alternative<br />
was walking. In those days, most bikes<br />
were 2nd or 3rd hand‐ few could afford<br />
new ones. By dint of saving my hard<br />
earned pocket money, I bought an old<br />
full frame bike from one, Michael War‐<br />
ing. Michael was a College lad, 2‐3<br />
years older, who lived on Peasholm<br />
Drive. (He later became a Methodist<br />
Minister). His father was big in the Gas<br />
Board and had a CAR. This strange<br />
machine‐ the bike‐ (bought for 15 /= ‐<br />
my Mother maintained I was robbed)<br />
was painted red and had a back pedal<br />
brake. The only other brake was a to‐<br />
tally ineffective short bar front brake.<br />
The back pedal was brilliant‐ but suf‐<br />
fered one near fatal disadvantage‐ the<br />
chain often came off. After sports day,<br />
one year, the pedestrians cut down a<br />
path through the top wood, and the<br />
cyclists kept to the road and the first
descending hairpin. On the approach to<br />
the walkers regaining the road and<br />
crossing it in a bunch, the inevitable<br />
happened and the chain came off as I<br />
hurtled towards them at 25 mph.<br />
Speechless in panic and fear, somehow<br />
I squeezed through a tiny gap and no<br />
one was injured. The bike was rapidly<br />
changed!<br />
Playing truant in the 50s was almost<br />
unheard of. But in about 1956, Scarbor‐<br />
ough FC were doing well in the FA<br />
cup. They had drawn a game against<br />
Selby and the replay was an afternoon<br />
game at the Athletic ground. Passions<br />
were running high. Two or three of us<br />
took the afternoon off and stood on the<br />
terraces to cheer our team on. The<br />
teams were deadlocked with out scor‐<br />
ing until a few minutes before the end,<br />
when strangely, Brolls (our R. winger)<br />
exchanged places with Bowman (the<br />
inside R.). This was unheard of ‐ every<br />
one still played a 5, 3, 2 game and you<br />
knew your place on the field. Bowman<br />
centred and Brolls headed into the top<br />
R. hand corner of the net. Scarbor‐<br />
ough’s further progress was short lived<br />
‐ York knocked them out in a tightly<br />
fought game in the next round. I think<br />
York went on to the quarter finals.<br />
30<br />
PHILIP DALBY 1934 -2008<br />
By Gill Dalby<br />
Phil Clarke’s interesting article in<br />
“Summer Times” was passed on to me<br />
by Heather & David Merryweather. In<br />
reply to his question as to what hap‐<br />
pened to Philip Dalby among others, I<br />
can supply the following information.<br />
Phil spent his teaching career in Hull,<br />
at four different schools, primary &<br />
junior high. He married Lesley in 1972<br />
& they had a daughter & a son. Lesley<br />
died in 2000 & Phil & I (who had been<br />
colleagues in the 70s) got together<br />
again & married in 2002. Sadly, he<br />
died of cancer in 2008.<br />
Phil was a lovely man, kind, intelligent<br />
& funny. He enjoyed riding his bike &<br />
was interested in all types of sport,<br />
particularly cricket & football. He<br />
claimed that he once carried a whole<br />
school cricket team to a match in his<br />
Ford Anglia (before the days of seat<br />
belts & health & safety)! When I in‐<br />
formed Scarborough Cricket Club of<br />
his death, they wrote to me saying that<br />
he had been a member for 63 years. An<br />
avid reader, he was very clever at cryp‐<br />
tic crosswords and said that his school‐<br />
boy Latin was a great help.<br />
Phil remembered his Scarborough roots<br />
fondly & we went back often. A fa‐<br />
vourite visiting day was on Shrove<br />
Tuesday to see the pancake races &<br />
skipping.<br />
Phil always kept in touch with Keith<br />
Shaw, who lives in Ottawa. In 2009, I<br />
went to a wedding in Michigan & trav‐<br />
elled on to stay with Keith & his wife<br />
Kathleen, who were very hospitable.<br />
AUSTRO-SWISS CAMP<br />
1968 REVISITED<br />
(a reprise of Guy Barnish’s note on the<br />
camp from the last issue, with hopefully<br />
this time the correct photograph accompa‐<br />
nying the article—above left!)<br />
The camping picture is our tent
group on the Austro‐Swiss Camp dur‐<br />
ing July‐August 1959. Seated from left<br />
to right are: “Jumbo” Jarvis; Mick<br />
Bowman; John Storey; Guy Barnish;<br />
Ken Short. Ost (haven’t remembered<br />
his first name) was also in the tent, but<br />
he took the photo!<br />
PRINTS OF<br />
SCARBOROUGH<br />
The Editor writes…<br />
Readers interested in the history and<br />
changes in Scarborough in the past 200<br />
years, and collectors of old engravings<br />
and aquatints (of which the Editor<br />
pleads guilty to being one!) may give<br />
some thought to the market for and<br />
availability of such Prints and Illustra‐<br />
tions, many of which can, by diligent<br />
searching around, be obtained at often<br />
less than the price of modern repro‐<br />
ductions!<br />
Perhaps, in these days of small<br />
rooms, minimalist décor and modernist<br />
31<br />
Art, prints and traditional pictures are<br />
out of fashion, but if we go back some<br />
200 years, books and individual prints<br />
of cities, ports and harbours became<br />
very much the vogue among the intelli‐<br />
gentsia, who were beginning to travel<br />
more widely, particularly to the emerg‐<br />
ing seaside resorts.<br />
From the late 1700’s there was an<br />
increasing demand for, and production<br />
of engravings of scenic views, whether<br />
parts of London, views of the Oxford<br />
and Cambridge Colleges or Ports and<br />
Harbours around the British Coast .<br />
Usually Prints from these eras would<br />
be printed in black and white, although<br />
Aquatints were produced containing<br />
elements of colour. Most of the prints<br />
now available have however been sub‐<br />
sequently and recently coloured to ca‐<br />
ter for the demands of the market, and<br />
if sensitively done, are little worse for<br />
it. Such demand for views was fuelled<br />
also by the development of seaside<br />
resorts, bathing and taking the waters,<br />
and by the rapid emergence of the mid‐
dle classes and their interest in travel.<br />
Until the 1830’s, with the advent of<br />
much more durable steel engraving,<br />
prints were engraved on copper, which<br />
gave a warmer and softer tone to the<br />
plates, but they soon showed consider‐<br />
able signs of wear, and only relatively<br />
short print runs were possible.<br />
Views of Scarborough, principally<br />
involving the Harbour and Castle,<br />
were popular, and frequently turn up<br />
at Antique Fairs, and those of Whitby<br />
and even Robin Hood’s Bay are also<br />
not uncommon... The Art Gallery on<br />
the Crescent displays some interesting<br />
examples, principally by local Artists...<br />
A series of 12 humorous illustrations<br />
of parts of the Town accompanied a<br />
book,” Poetical Recollections of Scar‐<br />
borough ––printed in 1813, and in‐<br />
clude coloured aquatints of The Castle,<br />
32<br />
Cornelian Bay, and The Terrace (now<br />
the site of the Grand Hotel) and are<br />
rather scarcer, but perhaps somewhat<br />
less artistic in presentation.<br />
The celebrated painter, JHM Turner,<br />
famous for his many Oil and Water‐<br />
colour paintings, was also an excep‐<br />
tional engraver, and among the coastal<br />
scenes produced by him circa 1826 was<br />
a water colour of the Harbour and Cas‐<br />
tle, the original of which is in the Tate<br />
Gallery and which forms the base for<br />
subsequent engravings, which turn up<br />
from time to time in Print Shops and at<br />
antique Fairs. A copy of the well‐<br />
known engraving from Turner’s pic‐<br />
ture is reproduced here, as is a more<br />
general and typical view of the har‐<br />
bour of a similar period.<br />
Later and larger engravings of such<br />
features as the “new” Spa Bridge, the
Rotunda and other landmark views<br />
are more available from time to time,<br />
and, appropriately mounted, provide<br />
an attractive historical and decorative<br />
function at relatively small cost. With<br />
the advent however in the later 19 th<br />
century of photographic and other<br />
more sophisticated printing tech‐<br />
niques, whilst reproduction improved,<br />
much of the character and atmosphere<br />
of these earlier views of the Town was<br />
lost. By the time that the Westwood<br />
School was constructed at the turn of<br />
the 20 th century engraving had largely<br />
ceased to be an effective medium for<br />
the reproduction of scenery, or build‐<br />
ings, and regrettably nothing is known<br />
in this period.<br />
So far as collecting is concerned,<br />
with the soaring cost of shop rental<br />
values, it is however becoming less<br />
easy to find shops selling old prints<br />
and pictures and one is increasingly<br />
driven to reliance on Antique Fairs<br />
and the Internet as a source of supply.<br />
Collecting remains however a worth‐<br />
while exercise for those interested both<br />
in History generally and the develop‐<br />
ment of the Town.<br />
NICKNAMES<br />
The late Ray Lazenby entertained us<br />
in the last issues with a light hearted<br />
sketch of some of the nicknames of<br />
some prominent Masters of his era,<br />
which has prompted further explora‐<br />
tion of those of our custos mores who<br />
were distinctive enough to enjoy a<br />
soubriquet, deserved or otherwise.<br />
Some, as mere shortened versions of<br />
their forenames (eg Eddie Colenutt)<br />
33<br />
need no clarification, but was Dai Lid‐<br />
dicott’s first name really thus‐ it is<br />
thought not‐ John has been suggested,<br />
and he does not figure on the School<br />
Register to enable a check – certainly<br />
the musical refrain likening his head to<br />
a ping pong ball sits better with Dai<br />
than John! As for Spike Jones, from<br />
whence came the spike, his silvery<br />
quiff? Pike Richardson was mentioned<br />
and could it be that small, tubby and<br />
with a face and mouth that had a<br />
slightly piscine look, this was based on<br />
his piscatorial appearance. What about<br />
Brad, who also was known as Sharky ‐<br />
Another aggressive fishy image?<br />
Jack Speight easily became Digger to<br />
match the mis‐pronunciation of his<br />
surname, and Mauler Manfield, who<br />
many of us remember for various rea‐<br />
sons despite his short stay at the<br />
School, had a moniker which reflected<br />
all too cruelly his altercations with<br />
certain of his less willing pupils.<br />
FURTHER CAMEOS OF<br />
LIFE AT SCARBOROUGH<br />
IN THE 50’S…<br />
-Peter Dawson (1950-58)<br />
I can recall an incident with Derek<br />
Price. He and I were standing near<br />
the old United Bus Station<br />
when a car roared across Valley<br />
Bridge heading for South Cliff.<br />
Perched precariously on the back of<br />
this vehicle, with feet on the rear<br />
bumper were two boys singing and<br />
beating gongs‐ obviously part of a<br />
wedding party. Do you recall the<br />
stand of elms between the Bus Sta‐<br />
tion and the bridge in which there
was a rookery.<br />
Every year one or two nestlings<br />
would fall out and every year I<br />
would take one home to try and rear<br />
it. Only once was this successful.<br />
The rooklet grew very quickly and<br />
was very tame. It used to terrify my<br />
much younger sister, flapping to‐<br />
wards her and cawing loudly as soon<br />
as she came through the back garden<br />
gate from school, demanding to be<br />
fed. I got to the stage of throwing it<br />
out of the bathroom window to en‐<br />
courage it to fly. At this point my<br />
parents insisted on the bird being<br />
sent to a more appropriate home. So<br />
it went to a lad from the country<br />
where it was soon flying and kept<br />
coming back to his home for weeks<br />
afterwards.<br />
Do you remember the United Bus<br />
Station in the war years? When pet‐<br />
rol was in very short supply, some<br />
buses pulled a trailer burning coke<br />
and producing a gaseous mixture of<br />
hydrogen and carbon monoxide<br />
which was burned in their engine<br />
much as LPG can be today. My father<br />
used to tell me, I couldnʹt remember,<br />
that on one weekend trip on the road<br />
to Helmsley, the underpowered bus<br />
could not make it up a hill and all the<br />
passengers had to get out and walk<br />
up rejoining their bus at the summit!<br />
Finally a little unrelated cameo —<br />
———— General Elections were<br />
taken very seriously at Westwood,<br />
with all 3 main parties campaigning<br />
and leading to a secret ballot. The<br />
Cons. usually came out on top, but<br />
very closely followed by the Liberals<br />
and the Socialists way down. At that<br />
34<br />
time the Liberals only had about 6<br />
MPs in Westminster. I donʹt think<br />
the Liberal support reflected the Lib‐<br />
eral tradition in Scarborough (it had<br />
been a Liberal Borough) as much as<br />
an ʺup yoursʺ to the establishment.<br />
At one packed meeting in the music<br />
room, Charlie Riceʹs son was speak‐<br />
ing for the Liberals on Home Policies<br />
and working up to one or other of<br />
the main Liberal policy planks at the<br />
time‐ proportional representation, or<br />
worker management....ʺ and the magic<br />
word for this policy isʺ —— ʺ Abraca‐<br />
dabraʺ— came the noisy hecklerʹs<br />
riposte, from the back row‐ one of the<br />
3rd year 6th sporting a blue bow tie.<br />
Just behind the Music Room, oppo‐<br />
site the Chemistry labs lived the<br />
quiet, fair‐haired lab. technician, Mr.<br />
Judson (a Methodist lay preacher) —<br />
— always undervalued. Once when<br />
either Zenna Potts or Mr. Speight<br />
was unable to get to school, Mr.<br />
Judson deputised as teacher very<br />
adequately. He helped me construct<br />
a Russian exposure meter from a kit.<br />
I was into photography at this time.<br />
Joey caught me at work on it in Mr.<br />
Judsonʹs tiny cell and was not at all<br />
pleased!<br />
THE SCHOOL AND WHAT<br />
IT GAVE ME<br />
Guy Barnish<br />
(1955-61)<br />
I have been poring<br />
through past copies<br />
of Summer Times,<br />
collected since I<br />
joined in 2007, to see
if I could add anything new to the vast<br />
number and variety of reminiscences.<br />
I’ve had a fantastically exciting life<br />
and Scarborough High School for Boys<br />
was a formative part of it. In fact, if it<br />
had not been for ‘Joey’ telling me, one<br />
morning in Assembly, to go to his of‐<br />
fice, I may well have had a mundane<br />
existence.<br />
I first came to Scarborough in 1952.<br />
We lived in a small house opposite the<br />
NALGO camp at Osgodby Hill Top<br />
from where my sisters and I com‐<br />
muted daily to St. Martin’s C of E<br />
School on the South Cliff, ruled by the<br />
indomitable Mrs. Crawford. It was<br />
there that I took the 11+, providing me<br />
with an entry to SBHS. However, in<br />
early 1953 we sailed for Cape Town,<br />
and following a 4‐day train journey we<br />
arrived in Ndola where my father met<br />
us, and then drove us to our new<br />
home in Luanshya, a copper mining<br />
town where he was a Mine Surveyor.<br />
I returned to Scarborough in mid‐<br />
1955 and enrolled in Westwood in<br />
September of that year. My first class<br />
was 3 Upper where ‘Spike’ Jones was<br />
the Form teacher. My most distinct<br />
memory of him is grabbing a handful<br />
of hair and shaking your head till it<br />
felt as though your eyes were falling<br />
out. One behaved oneself after a shak‐<br />
ing like that!<br />
Serendipitously, while walking for<br />
the first time down the slope to the<br />
School, feeling somewhat embarrassed<br />
in my new uniform, I met three lads<br />
with whom I played when at St. Mar‐<br />
tin’s:––– John Storey, Dave Fox and<br />
35<br />
Dave Bunton, none of whom seem to<br />
appear in Summer Times. I often won‐<br />
dered what happened to them. Later I<br />
met Ken Short, a year above me I<br />
think, who I knew from my days at<br />
Osgodby as both he and I attended St.<br />
Michael’s Sunday School in Wheat‐<br />
croft. When I left for Northern Rhode‐<br />
sia the Sunday School presented me<br />
with a bible and a Common Prayer<br />
Book, and a signed list of everyone<br />
who attended, which included Ken’s<br />
name. I still have the bible, and inside<br />
the front cover are the classes and<br />
years I attended the High School for<br />
Boys. (The bible is now used for find‐<br />
ing some of the answers to the Tele‐<br />
graph GK crossword).<br />
My life at Westwood, and later<br />
Woodlands, can be summed up as<br />
being fun. As a result of joining in the<br />
3 rd year I was excluded from the Clas‐<br />
sics and German classes (too much to<br />
catch up on), but of course, I did have<br />
to study French – for which I am now<br />
extremely grateful. I guess it was<br />
‘Mauler’ Manfield who introduced<br />
me to the language, though I can’t be<br />
sure. I recall that he had little control<br />
over the class, and in summer, if we<br />
had French in the first period after<br />
dinner break, then we would catch<br />
grasshoppers in the vegetation near<br />
the Fives Courts and release them in<br />
his class. The release triggered a class<br />
reaction of “Sir, Sir, there’s grasshoppers<br />
in the class” and a mad scramble to<br />
catch them. Poor Mauler simply could<br />
not control the class as most of us<br />
scrambled over and under desks, mak‐<br />
ing a heck of a noise as we attempted
to recapture our wildlife.<br />
My next year was a move to 4 upper<br />
(1956‐57) when ‘Pike’ Richardson was<br />
the Form Master. My recollection of<br />
him is a small dumpy person who wore<br />
a dark blue suit that, along with his<br />
gown, was always covered in chalk<br />
dust. He appears, in my memory, as<br />
always being armed with a very large<br />
wooden pair of compasses which he<br />
used with some dexterity on the black‐<br />
board. However, it is his accuracy with<br />
the nearest tin of schoolboy mathemati‐<br />
cal instruments that remains fixed in my<br />
memory. When he was addressing the<br />
blackboard and someone disrupted his<br />
mathematical outpourings, he would<br />
swing round, pick up the nearest tin<br />
and hurl it at whoever he thought was<br />
the cause of the disruption. Since this<br />
was a frequent occurrence, everyone<br />
was prepared and swiftly and simulta‐<br />
neously lifted their desk lid and ducked<br />
under it as the missile hit one of the<br />
desks, spewing its contents of dividers,<br />
compasses, protractors, erasers, etc.<br />
over a wide area. This, of course,<br />
prompted more distraction as everyone<br />
dived to collect the instruments and<br />
return them to the unfortunate lad<br />
whose tin it was.<br />
‘Bonn’ Clarke, as has been frequently<br />
mentioned in Summer Times, was the<br />
butt of many classroom interruptions. I<br />
recall that old hackneyed schoolboy<br />
prank of placing a drawing pin, point<br />
side up, on his chair. Bonn always en‐<br />
tered his room, swung the chair up,<br />
displacing the pin, and sat down as if<br />
nothing had happened. He must have<br />
had pretty good eyesight, as I don’t<br />
36<br />
remember him ever sitting on a pin.<br />
Didn’t he cycle to School every day, and<br />
didn’t his bike have a pedal that didn’t<br />
go round, to accommodate his stiff leg?<br />
And can someone tell me whether it is<br />
“Bonn” or “Bon” Clarke? I always<br />
assumed it was the latter, so named<br />
because he wasn’t (bon).<br />
Sometime during my early school‐<br />
days I joined the newly formed Duke of<br />
Edinburgh’s Award Scheme (it started<br />
in 1956). All went well with the First<br />
Aid (St. John’s Ambulance Brigade,<br />
Falsgrave); athletics (a non‐school ath‐<br />
letics club), and the camping/<br />
orienteering (mainly in the area from<br />
the Bridestones to the Scarborough/<br />
Whitby Road) which resulted in me<br />
collecting a large number of detonated<br />
mortar bombs from a military firing<br />
range somewhere on the North York‐<br />
shire Moors. The problem came with<br />
my chosen subject – biology. My super‐<br />
visor was Dr. Geoffrey Watson of the<br />
Natural History Museum near The<br />
Crescent. Well Dr. Watson set me to<br />
write a daily biological diary on the<br />
happenings in and on the pond below<br />
the school. To say that it was boring<br />
was an understatement. He gave no<br />
guidance or instructions, and I failed.<br />
Failed that section of the Scheme and so<br />
failed to get an Award. He said that the<br />
standard he set was ‘A’ level, but with‐<br />
out knowing what was required, he<br />
might have set it at degree level (I was<br />
not even at the ‘O’ level standard). In<br />
mitigation, he did conduct some very<br />
interesting biology evenings, tell fasci‐<br />
nating ghost stories, and inculcated in<br />
me the need to name every living thing
with two Latin names – yes Homo<br />
sapiens. This latter point became an<br />
essential part of my professional life as<br />
a medical parasitologist.<br />
Later years were spent in 5 Upper<br />
(1957‐58) with ‘Duckie’ Helmuth as the<br />
form Master; Science 6B followed and<br />
then Science 6A with ‘Zenna’ Potts as<br />
form Master, followed in my last year<br />
with ‘Uncle Len’ Willmut, though nei‐<br />
ther of them ever taught me.<br />
I recall with some affection James<br />
Gilmour, perhaps the only English<br />
teacher to invoke some response from<br />
me, and of course Derek Price who has<br />
received many tributes in ‘Summer<br />
Times’. As part of our ecology lessons<br />
he had us all trooping down to the<br />
South Bay beach where we learnt the<br />
principles of sampling along a transect<br />
line. What we actually did was plot the<br />
frequency of sea anemones between<br />
high and low tide levels, and I under‐<br />
stood that he wrote up all our ‘hard’<br />
work for his MSc. His successor,<br />
Gordon Whalley became as near a<br />
friend as I ever attained among the<br />
staff. During my final year at the<br />
school he allowed me to breed mice in<br />
the biology shed which I sold to the<br />
younger pupils at 6d a time! If I am not<br />
mistaken he also revitalised the Biology<br />
Club which Derek Price had started,<br />
and I became an active participant in its<br />
activities.<br />
My other activities at Woodlands<br />
included playing rugby for the 2 nd VX;<br />
and being, with Mick Judson, a very<br />
active trampoliner. We were both<br />
taken to various agricultural shows in<br />
North Yorkshire over a couple of sum‐<br />
37<br />
mers to provide entertainment to the<br />
masses. I was also an active member of<br />
the local YHA, cycling to our meetings<br />
as far away as Boggle Hole (what a<br />
lovely sounding place), and I was a<br />
member of the St. Saviour’s Scout<br />
Group.<br />
Much has been written about the<br />
various school camps. I attended three:<br />
the Nant Francon Valley, North Wales<br />
in 1957; the Austro‐Swiss camp in 1959,<br />
and the Glen Nevis camp in 1962. I<br />
remember Joey visiting us in Switzer‐<br />
land and catching some unfortunate<br />
lad smoking, and immediately des‐<br />
patching him back to England, and I<br />
am sure that ‘Jock’ Roxburgh burnt his<br />
old climbing boots in the camp fire in<br />
Glen Nevis. Apparently it is an old<br />
tradition. Does anyone recall this oc‐<br />
currence?<br />
I must make mention of Messrs Perry<br />
and Mr Dutton. The principles of met‐<br />
alwork and woodwork that they drilled<br />
into me have served me well in later<br />
years.<br />
And naturally, as many of us did, I<br />
took holiday jobs. My holiday jobs<br />
changed from working in the kitchens<br />
and washing‐up cellars of both the<br />
Grand and the Pavilion hotels to selling<br />
ice cream for Walls and then for<br />
Jaconelli’s on the foreshore, after which<br />
I graduated to becoming a life guard,<br />
first on the North Bay and the follow‐<br />
ing year (1961) on the South Bay. Great<br />
times!<br />
I mentioned that ‘Joey’ had called me<br />
out one morning in Assembly “Ah wan’<br />
ter see Barnish in my office after Assem‐
ly”. It was with some trepidation<br />
that I presented myself, but all he<br />
asked was whether I wanted to go<br />
back to Africa! He then handed me<br />
some forms, instructed me to com‐<br />
plete them and send them off. The<br />
results of this episode changed my<br />
life. I duly completed the forms, and<br />
was subsequently awarded a<br />
Kingsley Fairbridge Memorial Schol‐<br />
arship to the University College of<br />
Rhodesia and Nyasaland (UCRN). I<br />
set sail from Southampton in Febru‐<br />
ary 1962 and qualified with a BSc<br />
(London) in late 1964. I was elected to<br />
the Students Administrative Council<br />
in my second year and was the social<br />
secretary for the university, organis‐<br />
ing Rag and various dances and balls.<br />
As President of the University Explo‐<br />
ration Society, I lead, in early 1965, an<br />
expedition to the source of the Zam‐<br />
bezi, and into Angola and the Congo.<br />
During the planning of the trip I met<br />
David Attenborough as he was film‐<br />
ing “Zambezi”. He and his team pro‐<br />
vided us with lots of useful advice.<br />
We actually scored one up on him at<br />
the Angola border – despite having<br />
all the visas he was turned back into<br />
Zambia whilst we were allowed<br />
through!<br />
My first job on qualifying was with<br />
the Rhodesian Ministry of Health as a<br />
bilharzias research officer. I stayed<br />
for 4 years, part of which was taken<br />
up by being conscripted into the<br />
Royal Rhodesian Air Force (RRAF). I<br />
then worked in St. Lucia, West Indies<br />
for The Rockefeller Foundation on<br />
their schistosomiasis control project<br />
38<br />
for 12 years. In 1982 I went to the<br />
Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine<br />
(LSTM) where I studied for a Masters<br />
in Community Health and in 1983<br />
moved to Papua New Guinea where I<br />
was the parasitologist for the Institute<br />
of Medical Research, and where I did<br />
my PhD. I returned to LSTM as a<br />
research assistant in 1986, but in 1989<br />
I was employed by the Medical Re‐<br />
search Council (London) to go to Si‐<br />
erra Leone to set up a malaria labora‐<br />
tory and to investigate “the epidemi‐<br />
ology and entomology of malaria in a<br />
high rainfall forested area”. All went<br />
well until 1991 when the civil war<br />
started and I was ordered out by the<br />
Foreign Office. Whilst still employed<br />
by the LSTM I worked in Ghana and<br />
then in 1999 I went to live in Namibia,<br />
working on the diagnosis of malaria<br />
in Namibia, Zimbabwe, Swaziland<br />
and Mozambique – from the Atlantic<br />
to the Indian Ocean.<br />
I finally returned to the UK in 2002,<br />
after having spent almost half my life<br />
living and working in the tropics. As<br />
a Senior Lecturer I remained at LSTM<br />
until I retired in 2006. However, one<br />
month later I was re‐employed as a<br />
Senior Fellow to teach. This extension<br />
continued until 2010 when I suppose I<br />
finally retired.<br />
But what is retirement? My wife<br />
and I bought a retirement home in the<br />
Limousin Region of France, and it<br />
required considerable renovation.<br />
This is where ‘Bonn’ Clarke and<br />
Messrs Perry and Dutton reappear –<br />
without the basics that they taught
me all those years ago, it would have<br />
been a far harder task than it has<br />
turned out to be. So, thank you SBHS<br />
for not only starting me out on a fan‐<br />
tastic life’s journey, but staying with<br />
me until the last nail is driven in.<br />
WOODWORK<br />
Dave Hepworth(1951-8)<br />
recalls his escape<br />
from the vices of<br />
the School woodwork<br />
room and<br />
reflects on the<br />
horrifying possibility<br />
that his last<br />
half-hearted efforts<br />
may one<br />
day return to<br />
haunt him–<br />
Somewhere in a forgotten cellar deep<br />
in the bowels of the old Westwood<br />
building there probably lies a mould‐<br />
ering, part‐finished sea grass stool. An<br />
unloved memento of my last days of<br />
woodwork, circa July 1956, with the<br />
flinty‐eyed Mr Perry.<br />
After the summer hols that year I<br />
ascended to the heady heights of Mod‐<br />
ern 6b, casting all thoughts of chisels,<br />
hammers, dovetail joints and Mr Perry<br />
into the bin. The days were over of<br />
being told to gather round for instruc‐<br />
tion on the latest project, to be quickly<br />
followed with the command:<br />
“Hepworth, pay attention. I can see that<br />
glazed look coming into your eyes” .He<br />
was right – he COULD.<br />
I had previously struggled to finish<br />
AND French polish a small cigarette<br />
39<br />
box (very non‐PC now) which still<br />
stands proudly (full of paper clips of<br />
course) on a bookcase at home. But the<br />
stool was supposed to be the height of<br />
my labours, the pinnacle of my entire<br />
school woodwork ‘career’. The frame<br />
was almost finished, but the sea grass,<br />
whatever that is, was probably still<br />
growing!<br />
Progress got slower and slower as<br />
the hols got nearer and nearer. At last I<br />
happily downed tools for the delights<br />
of Swiss camp, rowing, tennis, the<br />
North Bay pool and girls.<br />
So, if the redoubtable Mr P didn’t<br />
use the damn thing to light his fire, it<br />
may have been stored in the brave<br />
hope that I would rush back to finish it<br />
in my first free periods in the Sixth. ––<br />
Some hope...<br />
And if anyone DOES know of its<br />
whereabouts– DON’T ring me!!<br />
EDUCATION<br />
The Editor<br />
It may be desirable, if only to pro‐<br />
tect the Magazine from the wrath of a<br />
percentage of its readers and any of<br />
the outside world sad enough to dip<br />
into its esoteric subject matter, to issue<br />
a disclaimer in respect of any Article<br />
involving modern Education to make<br />
it plain that the views of the writer,<br />
particularly if politically incorrect, are<br />
purely his own! Given that a signifi‐<br />
cant number of <strong>Old</strong> Boys have had<br />
educational careers, the risks of this<br />
must rise exponentially, but may at
least stimulate debate about education<br />
at the School! It is interesting that<br />
opinions in my correspondence widely<br />
differ on this, alternating between af‐<br />
fectionate tributes to the perceived<br />
higher standards in the past to the<br />
view that much of the then education<br />
was then “nasty, brutish and short “and<br />
that the Magazine is perhaps guilty a<br />
rosy‐ tinted spectacled view of the<br />
past, the esoteric and precocious word<br />
“Hestoropothia” (see the Superior Per‐<br />
sons Book of Words,) being mentioned<br />
in this context!)<br />
With that premise, it can perhaps be<br />
accepted that the modern tendency in<br />
Education is more towards the generic<br />
and non‐specific nature of presenta‐<br />
tion of the Curriculum, covering a<br />
wider but shallower spectrum, albeit<br />
to the detriment of detailed and accu‐<br />
rate knowledge of many subjects<br />
which were previously considered<br />
core educational information, but in<br />
the alleged interests of creating<br />
rounder and more balanced individu‐<br />
als in this very different world!! By<br />
way of example, statistics published in<br />
July 2007 disclose not only that His‐<br />
tory is now only compulsory until 14,<br />
but that only some 30% of pupils sub‐<br />
sequently studied it for GCSE. Latin<br />
and Greek have also suffered a simi‐<br />
lar, if not worse fate, whilst, perhaps<br />
more alarmingly in this scientific age,<br />
what may be described as the core<br />
scientific subjects, ‐ Maths, Physics<br />
and Chemistry have not escaped un‐<br />
scathed.<br />
Literal History, starting for many of<br />
40<br />
us at 11 with “Spike“ Jones and the<br />
Ancient Greeks –– with the homework<br />
every second week inexplicably being<br />
devoted to copying a drawing from<br />
the book, ‐ through to much more in‐<br />
teresting 19 th century English and<br />
European History, — the Corn Laws<br />
the Irish Question, have long gone out<br />
of vogue, and with hindsight it did<br />
perhaps emphasise learning “parrot<br />
fashion”. No Wikipedia then, no lifting<br />
of essays from the online Britannica or<br />
elsewhere!<br />
Perhaps, after all these years we<br />
should also reflect the extent to which<br />
the Shakespeare plays, the Sonnets,<br />
“Great Expectations” and other Dick‐<br />
ens equivalents, Molière’s L’Aveugle,<br />
or, more specialist yet, Virgil’s Ae‐<br />
niad, have contributed to the sum total<br />
of human existence for those of us<br />
who struggled with, and were less<br />
than enthusiastic about them at the<br />
time. It would be nice however to<br />
think that they had some material use<br />
other than assisting with the Daily<br />
Telegraph Crossword after retirement<br />
(although they certainly do that,— this<br />
admission in itself revealing my reac‐<br />
tionary reading tendencies!) Even Log<br />
tables, slide rules and much of the<br />
scientific apparatus with which we<br />
struggled have largely been overtaken<br />
by the passage of time and by more<br />
complex technology.<br />
Looking back however, history itself<br />
(with a small “h”) does demonstrate,<br />
even in the 18 th . and 19 th Centuries,<br />
that the educated classes were then<br />
bemoaning the fact that change was
continually for the worse (albeit for<br />
the few privileged enough to enjoy it!)<br />
–– so it may be as well to accept that<br />
modern Education is not necessarily<br />
worse, but just, owing to the exigen‐<br />
cies of present times, different, and<br />
that it is an inevitable feature of ad‐<br />
vancing age to look back , hopefully<br />
not like John Braine’s Jimmy Porter<br />
“In Anger”, but with nostalgia !<br />
THE LONDON LUNCH<br />
Whilst the Laws of Chance appear<br />
to dictate that, whenever timed, the<br />
annual London Lunch will coincide<br />
with disruption/delay/demonstrations<br />
in the capital; this certainly did not<br />
dampen the occasion itself, held again<br />
amid the splendid setting and hospi‐<br />
tality of the RAF Club in Piccadilly, a<br />
venue unfortunately rather close to the<br />
Hyde Park termination of the protest<br />
march.<br />
Despite this, an attendance of 32<br />
ensured that it was the usual convivial<br />
and entertaining event. The hospitality<br />
(and it should be said the liquid re‐<br />
freshment!) flowed freely, as did the<br />
memories of times past and catching<br />
up on reminiscences. As at the Christ‐<br />
mas Dinner, the attendance this time<br />
of more of the “younger element” au‐<br />
gured well for the future of the Asso‐<br />
ciation.<br />
A welcome by our President, Geoff<br />
Winn, was accompanied by a request<br />
for feedback (metaphorical) on the<br />
venue and cost , which we adjudged<br />
to be very much fit for purpose in rela‐<br />
41<br />
tion to future lunches ,and he also<br />
advertised forthcoming Golf and<br />
Bowls events, which will have taken<br />
pace before the the publication of this<br />
issue, and of the next Scarborough<br />
Dinner on the 2 nd December.<br />
Michael Rines and David Fowler then<br />
gave a short presentation on their re‐<br />
cent publication of “Sown with Corn”<br />
by Billy Binder, which had received<br />
critical acclaim and which it is hoped<br />
would be taken up nationally.<br />
Among those in attendance were;<br />
Don Barnes, John Bee, Stuart Bennett,<br />
Mick Bowman, David Chapman, George<br />
Dowd, John Dresser, Michael Easton,<br />
Derek Elcock, Paul Fawcett, Peter Firth,<br />
John Flinton, Chris Found, David Fowler,<br />
Tom Gofton, Malcolm Hudson, Maurice<br />
Johnson, John Mann, Mike Mansfield,<br />
Jack Milroy, Peter Newham, Tony Phil‐<br />
ipson, John Rice Michael Rines, Peter<br />
Robson, Ian Stoddard, Richard Stones,<br />
Malcolm Storry, Bill Temple, Robert Tin‐<br />
dall, John Wheelhouse, Geoff Winn, Rich‐<br />
ard Wood.<br />
A FEW REFLECTIONS ON<br />
MY LIFE<br />
By Ernest Stear (1932-38)<br />
Masters Atkinson, Binns, Brown,<br />
Chapman, Coates, Dunford, Jackson,<br />
Jibson, Littlewood, Marks, Newham,<br />
Normington, Noakes, Payne, Pinder,<br />
Sothcott, Stear, Sturdy, Sutton & Wil‐<br />
kinson ––– No, they are not school‐<br />
masters, just boys who were my con‐<br />
temporaries in 1935.
In the spring term of that year, Mr<br />
A C Keeton, organist of St Mary’s par‐<br />
ish church came to the School & asked<br />
the Head’s permission to recruit some<br />
boys who could sing, not for the<br />
Church choir but to take part in the<br />
Operatic Society’s production of Car‐<br />
men at the Open Air Theatre in the<br />
coming summer. I don’t know how<br />
many boys volunteered but all had to<br />
be auditioned by A C K, and only the<br />
20 above were chosen. We had an<br />
exciting time but we had to give up a<br />
lot of playtime learning the words and<br />
the music. How proudly we marched<br />
on to the stage, singing our hearts out<br />
in front of 7,000 people. Unfortunately<br />
the minute we marched off the stage<br />
we were met by some official and<br />
taken out of the theatre and sent<br />
home, apparently the law did not per‐<br />
mit juniors to appear on stage after<br />
8.0pm. Mind you, being boys, we did‐<br />
n’t always go home. A few of us<br />
shinned up the cliff behind the bunga‐<br />
lows and across the top to the bank<br />
behind the last row of seats & squatted<br />
on the grass to watch the show. By the<br />
end of the 2 nd week in September, I<br />
could sing or whistle all the main<br />
tunes (and there were many). This<br />
changed my life for ever and I was<br />
really hooked on opera and singing.<br />
Until now, apart from the church<br />
choir, my only experience of music in<br />
school was on a Friday afternoon<br />
when the weather was too bad for<br />
sport on Oliver’s Mount, & Johnny<br />
Francis took us for singing in the lec‐<br />
ture theatre; I remember the book well,<br />
it was called ‘British Songs for British<br />
42<br />
Boys’ and somewhere in my house, if I<br />
go through it with a fine tooth comb, I<br />
think I still have my copy; ‐ not that<br />
we did much singing, we much pre‐<br />
ferred to hear old Johnny talk about<br />
his experiences in Mesopotamia in W<br />
W 1.<br />
After Carmen, my voice began to<br />
break & I knew my treble singing days<br />
would soon be over. I asked Mr<br />
Keeton if I could be in the 1936 show<br />
and he said ‘Yes, but not as a singer’. So<br />
when rehearsals started for the next<br />
season I enrolled as a supernumerary<br />
& in Merrie England I was appointed<br />
one of two Pages to Queen Elizabeth,<br />
(the other Page was Geof. Mace) but I<br />
don’t think any of the ragamuffins<br />
from Carmen were in Merrie England. It<br />
is rather sad that the ragamuffins I<br />
knew best have all departed this life;<br />
Leslie Sturdy, Norman Binns, Ron<br />
Jibson, John Sothcott, John Payne,<br />
Norman Newham & I vaguely re‐<br />
member Noakes & Norrington – they<br />
may still be alive.<br />
In 1937 I took the School Certificate<br />
exam. French was compulsory and<br />
Les Brown had been trying to teach<br />
me it year after year but in the term<br />
before the exam, he told me that not<br />
only was I wasting my time, I was also<br />
wasting his and the rest of the class’s<br />
time so I would have to sit in the hall<br />
and study by myself. He was amazed<br />
when the results came through – so<br />
was I – for I had passed comfortably.<br />
I moved into the 6 th form but after 2<br />
terms I went to Joe ‘Boss’ & told him I<br />
wanted to leave school & get a job, to
help with the family finances (times<br />
were hard) But the Head was very<br />
understanding and said there was a<br />
job going at the School that I could<br />
have if I wanted, & I could still do<br />
some learning for HSC if I wished; the<br />
job was assistant to Mr CA Shires<br />
(Cass) the woodwork master. Well the<br />
one piece of woodwork that I ever<br />
finished was a simple candlestick<br />
which Cass valued at 2 out of 10. I<br />
thanked Mr Marsden but declined his<br />
offer & went to work at Bradleys of<br />
Chester Ltd, Gents Outfitters where I<br />
stayed until the Navy sent for me on<br />
Nov.11 th 1941.<br />
I couldn’t have imagined in my<br />
wildest dreams that one day I would<br />
be based in Naples on a minesweeper<br />
and for six or seven months I would<br />
be in port at least two nights a week<br />
and could go ashore for about six<br />
hours. One of the first things that the<br />
allies did on the capture of Naples was<br />
to get the San Carlo Opera house up<br />
and running and I always went to the<br />
opera on the nights when I had shore<br />
leave. I still have the programmes of<br />
all the operas I saw – over twenty‐ as<br />
well as symphony concerts given by<br />
the Opera House orchestra & con‐<br />
ducted occasionally by army or navy<br />
officers. After the war, the C M F got<br />
the whole San Carlo company, solo‐<br />
ists, chorus, orchestra & conductors to<br />
come to England, to Covent Garden<br />
for a two month stay; Billy Butlin<br />
then got them all to come to his Vien‐<br />
nese Theatre at his Filey holiday camp.<br />
This was too good to miss and I was<br />
lucky to get tickets for 2 performances,<br />
43<br />
Cav & Pag, & La Boheme. I would<br />
have liked to have gone every night<br />
but funds would not permit.<br />
Looking through my School reports<br />
–I still have them all – I wonder if any<br />
other old boys still have theirs?<br />
‘Charlie’ Rice wrote on one of<br />
mine,”He has a naïve approach which at<br />
times, is very successful”. A term or<br />
more later, he came up with this one,<br />
“He is cheerfully lazy. His mode of expres‐<br />
sion, both oral & written, is quite unpol‐<br />
ished”. (I often wonder if that was why<br />
the top brass in the navy turned me<br />
down at King Alfred where I had been<br />
sent for a few days on the recommen‐<br />
dation of my previous skipper).<br />
Many years later, about 1956 or ‘57 I<br />
was appointed organist of St Laur‐<br />
ence’s Church, Scalby in succession to<br />
Arthur Costain, and I found Mr<br />
Brown was a sidesman there. I also<br />
found that he had a good tenor voice,<br />
& after much begging & pleading I got<br />
him to join the choir. He & his wife<br />
became good friends to me and it was<br />
a sad occasion some years later when I<br />
had to play at his funeral.<br />
Another memory that has stayed with<br />
me was a School assembly one morn‐<br />
ing when the Boss announced that<br />
Ken Fearnside had passed the ma‐<br />
triculation with distinctions in all eight<br />
subjects. A feat previously unheard of<br />
at the High School. K F was in the 6 th<br />
form and I was in the 2 nd . I don’t<br />
know anything about his future career<br />
but I did hear a rumour that he was a<br />
scientific boffin working with others<br />
on the atom bomb.
My head is full of mostly good<br />
memories of my time at the High<br />
School, but I have one more thing to<br />
say and that is: ‐ I started school when<br />
I was 4 years old at the Central Infants<br />
School in Trafalgar Street West, and<br />
met Ken Farmborough who was also<br />
starting school there but was 8 months<br />
older. We both started & finished<br />
school together. Kept in touch<br />
throughout the war, were best man at<br />
our weddings (he was a year ahead of<br />
me) & we still meet every months for a<br />
jar in the Nag’s Head at Scalby.<br />
SPEECH DAY 1965 –<br />
QUEEN STREET<br />
Mike Mulvana<br />
The significance of the photo is two‐<br />
fold. It is not a sporting team but a<br />
gathering of academic achievers, the<br />
prize‐winners for the academic year<br />
1964 to 1965. Secondly it involves every<br />
academic year of the School at that<br />
time.<br />
In the second row, starting from sixth<br />
from the right, you will see the top of<br />
the class for 3C, Mike Mulvana, Ian<br />
Cook and Phil Cook, all of whom will<br />
be at the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> Dinner on 2 nd<br />
December.<br />
Additionally, there are some characters<br />
in the line up that everybody knows.<br />
Wouldn’t it be fulfilling to put a name<br />
to everybody? I have submitted a ma‐<br />
trix with the names I know but there<br />
are many gaps. As Summer Times is<br />
not Wikipedia, any of my errors cannot<br />
44<br />
be corrected on line but you may care<br />
to confirm who you know and what<br />
you know about them. (Sorry Harvey!)<br />
The third row is most intriguing.<br />
Fourth from the left, Parry, say no<br />
more! Then Eefie Clark, Olympic Judo<br />
aspirant and one‐armed bouncer who<br />
protected the weak in our favourite<br />
nightclub, The Penthouse. Next is Har‐<br />
vey Proctor, defeated by the Filey Na‐<br />
tionalists in the 1963 mock election, but<br />
eventually elected to the Houses of<br />
Parliament before entering the fashion<br />
world. The next guy I just know as<br />
Heron. Then Pillar!<br />
The bunch on the far right is listening<br />
intently. Look at their ears. Please send<br />
the names you know, especially if it is<br />
you, to Summer Times and we will build<br />
up the full roll call.<br />
Back Row (L/R) –– Ward (1), Charlie<br />
Warwick(6), Dave Pickup(8)<br />
Third Row (L/R) –– Southwick (2),<br />
Parry (4), Dave Clark (Eefie) (5),Harvey<br />
Proctor(6), Heron (7)<br />
Second Row (L/R) ‐–– Joseph Jaconelli<br />
(1), Michael Lewins (6), Hopkinson<br />
(8), Mike Mulvana (9), Ian Cook (10),<br />
Phil Cook(11), Dan Simmons (12),<br />
Paul Betts (13)<br />
Front Row (L/R) –– Hunter (8), Peter<br />
Lewins(9), Nick Simmons (10), Gour‐<br />
lay (11)<br />
On the matter of the <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong><br />
Dinner, the attendance of entry years<br />
1961 and 1962 are growing in numbers.<br />
We have enjoyed each others company<br />
over drinks and dinner and used the
event to have a re‐union with some<br />
very close friends in an arena where<br />
many other similar groups are doing<br />
the same. If you have attended before<br />
and been disappointed, then now is the<br />
time to try it again. Look up some old<br />
school friends and use the occasion to<br />
meet up and enjoy their company and<br />
spill over into others.<br />
(Ed. Mike did forward a matrix for the<br />
photograph, which is not easily directly<br />
reproducible in the Magazine, particularly<br />
by your computer challenged Editor, but is<br />
hopefully as listed above, and any other<br />
names submitted with descriptions of their<br />
location on the photo, will be scrupulously<br />
recorded!)<br />
45<br />
ATKINSON GRIMSHAW<br />
Atkinson Grimshaw and Castle‐by‐<br />
the Sea are names that may mean little<br />
to many old <strong>Scarborians</strong> and they do<br />
pre‐date the opening of the School at<br />
Westwood by some 40 years, at least so<br />
far as his Scarborough connection is<br />
concerned, but for those of us inter‐<br />
ested in the history of Scarborough and<br />
some very evocative paintings, usually<br />
at night in reflected light, of the town in<br />
the latter part of the 19th Century, he<br />
presents an interesting subject.<br />
John Atkinson Grimshaw was born<br />
in Leeds in 1836 in humble surround‐<br />
ings. Although he does not seem to<br />
have received any formal training as an<br />
artist, and in fact began his working life<br />
as a clerk with the Great Northern Rail‐
way Company, he gave this up in 1861<br />
to paint full‐time. Whilst his early<br />
works were heavily influenced by the<br />
Pre‐Raphaelites, by the late 1860’s he<br />
turned to the depiction of moonlight,<br />
which was to become his trademark,<br />
and upon which most of his finest pic‐<br />
tures, including a number of aspects of<br />
Scarborough, are based.<br />
In 1870, after moving around Leeds,<br />
the family settled at <strong>Old</strong> Hall, Knos‐<br />
trop, a 17 th century stone Manor house<br />
2 miles east of Leeds town centre, and it<br />
remained as his principal family home<br />
for the next 23 years. Recognition<br />
brought him artistic and financial suc‐<br />
cess, the main elements of which com‐<br />
prised large canvases with damp au‐<br />
tumnal views, docks and shipping<br />
scenes, by half or evening light, incor‐<br />
porating wet roads, lights from shop<br />
windows and reflections on water in a<br />
style that was very much his own.<br />
This recognition encouraged him in<br />
the 1870’s to rent a second home at<br />
Scarborough which he called –Castle ‐<br />
by‐ the‐Sea, (from a Longfellow poem)<br />
a substantial building now a hotel, stra‐<br />
tegically sited in Mulgrave Place on the<br />
neck of land near the Castle and St<br />
Mary’s Church, commanding un‐<br />
equalled views of both the North and<br />
South Bays.<br />
A plaque on the property now recalls<br />
this connection with the Town. He<br />
spent a considerable time each summer<br />
staying there, using it as a place of en‐<br />
tertainment for his friends, including<br />
George Du Maurier and Ellen Terry. Its<br />
builder and the occupant of “the Tow‐<br />
ers” along the road was Thomas Jarvis,<br />
46<br />
a wealthy Scarborough Brewer who<br />
was to be Grimshaw’s chief local pa‐<br />
tron. They met when Grimshaw<br />
painted “The <strong>Old</strong> Gates, Yew Court,<br />
Scalby” for him, one of several pictures<br />
of the property at Scalby. ( Yew Court<br />
was built in 1742 on the site of a much<br />
older building with reputed religious<br />
connections. It was extended and<br />
adorned with gables in the 1890’s and<br />
later bought by William Catlin of the<br />
entertainments empire before being<br />
converted into flats in 1962.)<br />
In 1871 he painted a view in oils of<br />
the South Bay (see picture) –– a night<br />
scene major in scale, with fisher folk<br />
landing the catch watched over by the<br />
massive new Grand Hotel. The town<br />
was to become his favourite subject, for<br />
example “Lights in the Harbour”, and<br />
shortly after taking over Castle–by –the<br />
‐ Sea the Grimshaw family witnessed<br />
the burning of the Spa Pavilion, upon<br />
which he subsequently based his paint‐<br />
ing “Sic Transit Gloria Mundi” . The<br />
move to the coast inspired much of his<br />
most attractive work; he, throughout<br />
his career always being attracted by<br />
ships, the sea, docks, and all things<br />
maritime. Equally dramatic are a series<br />
of paintings featuring a burning tar<br />
barrel which used to be lit in the har‐<br />
bour entrance to guide in the fishing<br />
boats returning during a storm. One of<br />
his most successful works, the venue<br />
for which is still recognizable, is “Forge<br />
Valley, near Scarborough” of which there<br />
are several versions, in which the scene<br />
is saturated in moonlight with much<br />
finely observed detail in the road tracks<br />
and shadows.
47<br />
However, in the middle of this prosperity came financial disaster, the details of<br />
which are unclear, but forced the disposal of the Scarborough property, and also
esulted in a greater output of paintings<br />
in response. He then also produced a<br />
series of great views of London and the<br />
Thames, although in his final years he<br />
reverted to a simpler style of estuary<br />
and snow scenes. He died in October<br />
1893 in Leeds and was buried in Wood‐<br />
house Cemetery.<br />
Whilst they do not represent the best<br />
of his works, ( which are now of con‐<br />
siderable value if recent sale prices are<br />
to be believed) Scarborough Art Gal‐<br />
lery holds 5 of his paintings –– Lights<br />
in the Harbour (1879), Sic Transit Glo‐<br />
ria Mundi – The burning of the Spa<br />
Saloon (1876) Scarborough Lights<br />
(c1877), Yew Tree Court Scalby, and<br />
“Burning Off”‐a fishing boat at Scar‐<br />
borough (1877), and for anyone inter‐<br />
ested in a moody ,albeit perhaps ro‐<br />
mantic view of the town some 150<br />
years ago, with views we all can still<br />
recall, these are well worth a visit.<br />
48<br />
TRIVIA<br />
Bons Mots-<br />
Some men are graduated from College<br />
cum laude, some are graduated summa<br />
cum laude and some are graduated mir‐<br />
abile dictum –– WH Taft.<br />
We sit through Shakespeare in order to<br />
recognize the quotations ––‐ Orson<br />
Welles.<br />
Drawing on my fine command of lan‐<br />
guage I said nothing. –– Robert<br />
Benchley<br />
A Cynic ‐ A blackguard whose faulty<br />
vision sees things as they are and not as<br />
they ought to be. –– Ambrose Bierce.<br />
He has occasional flashes of silence<br />
which make his conversation perfectly<br />
delightful –– Sidney Smith<br />
He was born stupid, and greatly in‐<br />
creased his birthright.
.When he said we were trying to make a<br />
fool of him, I could only murmur that<br />
the Creator had beaten us to it.<br />
A self made man ‐ Yes – , and he wor‐<br />
ships his creator –– William Cowper.<br />
He was not made for climbing the Tree<br />
of Knowledge.<br />
Thoughts for the day-<br />
I have finally come to the conclusion<br />
that a good reliable set of bowels is<br />
worth more to a man than any amount<br />
of brains.<br />
The optimist proclaims that we live in<br />
the best of all possible worlds and the<br />
pessimist fears that this is true. –– J B<br />
Cabell<br />
Senescence begins and Middle Age<br />
ends The day your descendants Out‐<br />
number your friends –– Ogden Nash<br />
There are three signs of aging ‐ The first<br />
is that you tend to forget things rather<br />
easily –– and for the life of me, I don’t<br />
know what the other two are –– Em‐<br />
manuel Celler<br />
<strong>Old</strong> Age is when it takes you longer to<br />
have a good time than to have it –– EC<br />
McKenzie<br />
49<br />
The best part of being an <strong>Old</strong>ie is that<br />
you get to be eccentric and young peo‐<br />
ple have to be polite and patronise your<br />
idiosyncrasies. –– Nicola Eliason<br />
Further Puns for those with a<br />
higher IQ:-<br />
In democracy your vote counts. In<br />
feudalism your count votes.<br />
She was engaged to a boyfriend with a<br />
wooden leg but broke it off.<br />
A chicken crossing the road is poultry<br />
in motion.<br />
With her marriage, she got a new name<br />
and a dress.<br />
The man who fell into an upholstery<br />
machine is fully recovered.<br />
You feel stuck with your debt if you<br />
canʹt budge it.<br />
Every calendarʹs days are numbered.<br />
A lot of money is tainted ‐ Taint yours<br />
and taint mine.<br />
A boiled egg in the morning is hard to<br />
beat.<br />
He had a photographic memory that<br />
was never developed.<br />
A midget fortune‐teller who escapes<br />
from prison is a small medium at large.<br />
PLEA FOR LETTERS/ARTICLES<br />
After a spate of material for the last May issue, the number of contributions<br />
has shown signs of diminishing somewhat recently, hopefully not because the<br />
flow of interesting recollections, reminiscences, and stories on the part of<br />
Members has now dried up, and it is hoped that this note may serve as a tact‐<br />
ful reminder that your Magazine NEEDS THESE as the lifeblood of its sur‐<br />
vival for the future, particularly given the success of the appeal and also the<br />
welcome influx of “younger” Members.
Once youʹve seen one shopping centre,<br />
youʹve seen a mall.<br />
Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead‐<br />
to‐know basis.<br />
50<br />
Santaʹs helpers are subordinate<br />
clauses.<br />
Acupuncture is a jab well done.<br />
Why not Advertise in Summer Times?<br />
Summer Times is published twice a year and is mailed to around<br />
500 members, world wide.<br />
Additionally, the magazine appears on our web site in colour.<br />
And the prices to advertise?<br />
Full page outside back cover £70<br />
Full page inside covers £65<br />
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Half page inside £35<br />
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Chris Found,<br />
‘Pinewood’,<br />
SILPHO, SCARBOROUGH. YO13 0JP<br />
E‐mail DeeFound@btinternet.com<br />
Phone 01723 882343
51<br />
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Binder’s Sown With Corn at £15 inc. UK delivery.<br />
We are also republishing Binder’s A Journey in England and this<br />
should be available soon.<br />
Many books – some by <strong>Old</strong> Boys — are available from our web<br />
site www.farthings‐publishing.com<br />
PUBLISHING: Why not let us quote to publish YOUR book. To<br />
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1<br />
Published for The <strong>Old</strong> <strong>Scarborians</strong> <strong>Association</strong>. Editorial 01604 767895<br />
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