Summer Times is the Journal of the Old Scarborians Association
Summer Times is the Journal of the Old Scarborians Association
Summer Times is the Journal of the Old Scarborians Association
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COMMITTEE PROFILES (2)<br />
David Fowler<br />
(1949-55)<br />
I was born in Scar‐<br />
borough and at‐<br />
tended Gladstone<br />
Road Primary and<br />
Junior schools.<br />
Why Gladstone<br />
Road, I don’t know.<br />
It had a good reputation but we lived in<br />
Newby at <strong>the</strong> time. However, I recall that my<br />
Aunt’s address in St John’s Avenue was given<br />
– presumably to put me within <strong>the</strong> catchment<br />
area—if bureaucracy had invented such<br />
things in those far <strong>of</strong>f days.<br />
The St John’s Avenue address caused all sorts<br />
<strong>of</strong> problems! In <strong>the</strong> Winter <strong>of</strong> 1947, myself<br />
aged 9, my s<strong>is</strong>ter <strong>the</strong>n 7, and 3 o<strong>the</strong>r children<br />
who attended ‘Glaggo Road’, set <strong>of</strong>f from<br />
Throxenby Lane at around twenty past eight –<br />
our usual time to catch <strong>the</strong> bus on Scalby<br />
Road. Snow was already about 2 feet deep,<br />
and it was still snowing and lying, and as it<br />
was apparent <strong>the</strong>re were no buses, we set <strong>of</strong>f<br />
to walk to school.<br />
It must have been after 10 am when we<br />
trooped in to our different classes, and later in<br />
<strong>the</strong> morning ‘Pop’ Hall, <strong>the</strong> Headmaster, gave<br />
me a mild ticking <strong>of</strong>f for being late arriving.<br />
He had apparently thought I had walked<br />
from St John’s Avenue – all <strong>of</strong> 400 yards<br />
away! To give him credit, he must have spo‐<br />
ken with <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r late arrivals, and real<strong>is</strong>ed<br />
we had all walked to school toge<strong>the</strong>r. Later<br />
on, he returned to my classroom and, in front<br />
<strong>of</strong> everyone, described <strong>the</strong> five <strong>of</strong> us as a be‐<br />
ing a good example <strong>of</strong> ‘commitment to <strong>the</strong><br />
school’ on making <strong>the</strong> effort to get <strong>the</strong>re in <strong>the</strong><br />
snow.<br />
Ano<strong>the</strong>r incident occurred when, for some<br />
reason, <strong>the</strong> school Bank needed <strong>the</strong> signature<br />
<strong>of</strong> one <strong>of</strong> my parents. It must have seemed<br />
10<br />
urgent at <strong>the</strong> time as I was sent ‘home’ to<br />
obtain it. When I returned to school over an<br />
hour later, <strong>the</strong>re were suggestions that I had<br />
been malingering – but an hour to Throxenby<br />
and back in those days was not bad going,<br />
despite <strong>the</strong> teacher thinking I had only had to<br />
go to St John’s Avenue.<br />
I passed my 11 plus and started at <strong>the</strong> Boys’<br />
High School in September 1949. Somehow I<br />
managed not to be ‘bushed’ and after a year<br />
in 1A, I found myself in <strong>the</strong> ‘L’ stream with<br />
Les Brown for French and Bon for German.<br />
Bon really terrified me, but much, much later<br />
I had very good reason to be grateful to him.<br />
Academically, I usually langu<strong>is</strong>hed some‐<br />
where in <strong>the</strong> lower half <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> class, but I<br />
blame th<strong>is</strong> on an Uncle who was a very keen<br />
‘radio ham’ ‐ (he was <strong>the</strong> husband <strong>of</strong> my<br />
Aunt in St John’s Avenue and had returned<br />
from being a Pr<strong>is</strong>oner <strong>of</strong> War since my earlier<br />
“Glaggo Road” days). I think <strong>the</strong> attraction <strong>of</strong><br />
‘helping’ him contact people in far <strong>of</strong>f lands<br />
through <strong>the</strong> air waves, was <strong>of</strong> much more<br />
geographical usefulness than Mr Giblett’s<br />
geography homework.<br />
In those days I was <strong>the</strong> second smallest boy in<br />
<strong>the</strong> class. In all school photographs I look like<br />
a pixy with sticking out ears. It was only<br />
when I started my National Service that I shot<br />
up to 6 ft 2 inches within a very short time.<br />
I was never a sportsman at school, my peak<br />
sporting achievement being to play Shinty<br />
under <strong>the</strong> watchful eye <strong>of</strong> Norman Stoddard<br />
on Olivers Mount. However, I enjoyed being a<br />
School Librarian, and singing with <strong>the</strong> Junior<br />
and later <strong>the</strong> Senior choirs. I well remember a<br />
train trip to Whitby where we were taking<br />
part in <strong>the</strong> Eskdale Festival <strong>of</strong> Music and<br />
Song. Bransby Cr<strong>of</strong>t’s mo<strong>the</strong>r, I think it was,<br />
bought us all ice cream at Scarborough Rail‐<br />
way Station on <strong>the</strong> outward journey. If it was<br />
to relax our vocal chords it certainly worked,<br />
as we won <strong>the</strong> shield for our class.<br />
After scraping through O levels I left school in<br />
July 1955 at 16 to join Barclays Bank after Joey