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T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o 8 1 Dear All Here is the attachment I recently received from Mike Bonner, noted right back of OSFC many years back – and of course, brother of Peter and like me also 1951 intake. He originally sent this to John Taylor, also same intake, who had the idea of sending an abridged version to Arsenal. This resulted in it forming part of the programme for the Arsenal vs Liverpool game a week or so ago. Hope of interest even to those supporters of the Lillywhite boys – you will find still worth a read as there is an almost kindly mention of the likes of Blanchflower, Mackay etc. at one point - maybe edited out from revised version? Regards Don North of The Angel The Angel in Islington, that is. It’s Highbury, a stadium which evokes love locally and derision elsewhere, especially at the other end of the Seven Sisters’ Road close to the White Hart Tavern, home of Tottenham Hotspur. It’s May 2004 and the football season – the Premiership anyway – has drawn to a close. The Gunners have lifted the league trophy without a single defeat home or away and are being hailed as the best Arsenal team ever. The day after clinching the title one national daily carried the views of several past players on their all-time best elevens. They were all different, of course, though unsurprisingly Liam Brady and Thierry Henry figured in each. Being of an age to remember most of the outfield players mentioned I found it fascinating reading, and could readily understand the rationale behind most of the selections. We’ve had some decent goalkeepers in our time, too – Swindin, Wilson, Seaman and company, as well as the immaculate Pat Jennings, who was most pundits’ choice. He wasn’t the best, though. That accolade will only ever belong to the great Jack Kelsey. Jack was a quiet, blond Welshman with film-star good looks who (it seemed to me at the time) steered a succession of very moderate Arsenal teams almost single-handedly through the turbulent fifties into the clearer water of the post-Joe Mercer sixties, albeit in the shadow of the dazzling skills of Blanchflower and Mackay’s all-stars over at Spurs. He was a talented and courageous ‘keeper and that rarity: a man’s man who was attractive to women, too. A great servant of the club, you could meet him serving in the supporters’ shop after training. Quite a few players had local business interests – you’d always get served by Wally Barnes in his sports shop (especially after his broken leg in the 1952 Cup Final against Newcastle ended his playing career), and Alex James’ sweet-shop was en route to the ground from Finsbury Park Station. The trouble with him was that no-one I knew could actually recall Alex’s playing days, with the result that almost any male assistant could palm himself off as the great man. “He was in today. Served me himself ” was a common claim in the pre-match exchanges. Jack Kelsey inspired the sort of confidence fifties’ supporters had no right to expect in an endless succession of suspect Arsenal defences. It wasn’t as though his influence spread far upfield, like the later Shilton’s, or certainly Schmeichel’s at Manchester United. It was in the goal area where Jack reigned supreme; the penalty spot marked the farthest limit of his authority. He didn’t so much patrol the goalline as prowl a cage, and all of us North Bankers (hardly anyone I knew stood at the Clock End) had our brittle hopes ransomed there. For an hour and a half we would watch them attacked from all sides by dark forces with strange kits and unfamiliar names, protected only by one man’s unwavering skill and courage. And we trusted him completely. I’ve always thought goalkeepers get off rather lightly when apportioning blame for goals conceded, but I can honestly say Jack was never ever at fault. The ball found his net often enough in those days, but such shots were of the unstoppable variety and usually as a result of some defensive cock-up. Every team visiting Highbury at that time seemed to possess at least one player whose mischievous skills – I’m talking the likes of Matthews, Shackleton and Finney now – wreaked the kind of devilry to which the straightforward heroics of Jack Kelsey had no answer. Whatever the score, however disappointing the performance, nothing ever diminished our faith in him. I didn’t actually go to Highbury that often compared to some of my pals – I had a serious cash-flow problem, for a start – and my visits became even less frequent once I started playing regularly myself. Maybe that’s why I can often recall so much of the detail – each match seemed endowed with its own peculiar uniqueness. Funnily enough, some of my best mates were of the Tottenham persuasion – Tony Balding, for a start, a gifted footballer himself who played with the sort of neat economy of movement that seemed to characterize their sides … Anyway, enough about that lot. I made more of an effort when the F.A. Cup came round, though, and one of these occasions was probably the last time I ever saw Jack play. It was a home tie against one of the Lancashire clubs – the Big Bs, Bolton, Burnley, Blackburn maybe, or even the great Blackpool team, all of whom I think were in the old First Division at the time. I had the usual isolationist ignorance of most Londoners at that time, and imagined these all to be huge, million inhabitants-plus cities with great stadia to rival our own. Much, much later I was to visit all four. Needless to say, I was deeply humbled when I recalled the defeats they regularly inflicted on us with such apparently limited resources. Jack, like all goalkeepers, had his own superstitious ritual prior to kick-off. Fans would roar encouragement as he made his way goalward before kick-off, and he would respond with a shy, solitary wave of the hand. He’d throw down his gloves in the back of the net, mark out the corners of the goal-area with the heel of his boot, then walk the length of the goal-line and kick both posts. He’d bend from side to side and jump twice in the air, tucking his knees tightly into his chest before picking his gloves 28
up from where he’d thrown them and tapping imaginary mud from the toes of his boots. He’d swing both arms backwards in a circular motion before jumping and hanging momentarily from the crossbar. And so it went on, his every movement quietly monitored by the approving fans crammed into the terrace behind, part of the 60,000-plus gate then usual on such occasions. For a moment I thought ahead to the final whistle and the crush towards the exit on Avenell Road. I had a horror of tumbling down the steep steps and being trampled on by thousands of our own supporters. We won the toss and Joe Mercer chose to defend our end. The Gunners had just finished warming up and there was just time to watch Jack Kelsey complete the rest of his routine before kickoff. I hoped he’d find time during a lull in proceedings to turn and chat to some of the spectators, which he sometimes did. I’d been at the front of the crowd a few times and wondered if I’d ever have the nerve to come out with the sort of quip that made him turn and grin in acknowledgement. I’d have given a lot to do it, but I didn’t then and it’s too late now. This was a match we should have won on paper. A shame, as they say, it was being played on grass. Besides, I hadn’t spotted Lishman or Roper in T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o 8 1 the line-up and Jimmy Logie had been injured for weeks. I’d check on the team-sheet at half-time – someone had always finished with their match-day programme by then. I’d felt vaguely uneasy in the seconds before kick-off but couldn’t put my finger on why. The crowd, too, were strangely silent. Then someone to my right rustled his programme noisily in agitation and seemed to speak for the whole of the North Bank as he pointed almost accusingly towards a Jack Kelsey now busily adjusting his stockings and yelled “He’s not punched his gloves!” Dismayed fans were now staring anxiously in the direction of the Arsenal goalkeeper. Something was badly wrong. “He hasn’t punched his gloves!” the man repeated. “No, he hasn’t,” I silently mouthed, horrified. The game couldn’t start yet. The ritual wasn’t complete. Unmoved, the referee raised the whistle to his mouth to signal the start of play. This couldn’t be happening. Just as he blew for the off Jack jumped lightly on his toes and punched his gloved left hand once, twice, in quick succession with his right. There was a huge communal sigh of relief from all sides of the ground. The match was on, now. Once again we were in with a shout. DRAMA PRODUCTIONS AT STATIONERS' COMPANY'S SCHOOL Having collected a number of programmes of Drama productions that have taken place at Stationers' over the years, I thought the list of productions may be of interest to the thespians of the Old Stationers Association. One of the problems over the years, is that sometimes there is no date of any kind on the programme, so the only clues are the names of the actors who appear on the programme. Who remembers the production of 'It's Spreading.... with The Company'? There were 14 items in 'It's Spreading, in fact 15 as the first item was highlighted as, -1 'Before the Beginning Began', and the last item in this section was 14 Concerto for Homo Sapiens with Gramophone in 3 movements! The dates and names of the production only, in this compilation, have been gleaned from information from the back of the programme that lists productions over, say a decade, but the information is not always correct! 1947 DR. KNOCK December 1947 1949 TWELFTH NIGHT December 1949 1950 HENRY IV December 1950 1953 ANDROCLES AND THE LION February 1953 (Photographs of this production hung in prominent places in the corridor of SCS, I remember when I arrived at Stationers' in 1954.Ed.) 1957 MASQUE OF THE COMPANY May 1957 1958 CAKES AND ALE December 1958 1960 SCUTTLEBOOMS TREASURE April 1960 1961 TWELFTH NIGHT February1961 1961 THE LADY'S NOT FOR BURNING November 1961 1962 LES PLAIDEURS April 1962 1962 IT'S SPREADING Before the Beginning Began, took place in July 1962 which included A Selection from Cakes and Ale and 'Spreading the News'', a comedy in one act by Lady Gregory. A few members of the Association who are members at the present time and were behind the scenes at that time are A.W.Dunlop, 1955-1962; A.W.Henfrey, 1956-1963; M.J.Heath,1955-1962 who are named in the programme; and the list of actors in 'The Company' for 'It's Spreading' are shown on the front of the programme. Members of the OSA today who were in 'The Company' are Alan Holmwood, 1960-1967; Philip Miall, 1960-1967; Anthony Pigden, 1961-1967; John Rowlands, 1961-1968; Martin Slatford, 1961-1968; Michael Pinfield, 1960-1966. 1962 BILLY BUDD December 1962 1963 MACBETH by William Shakespeare, took place on 12th,13th, 14th December 1963. This production of Macbeth, was directed by Mr P.L.B.Woodroffe. Members of the Cast in this production who are present members of the OSA include Anthony Mash, 1961-1968; Robert Assirati,1958-1965; Alan Burgess, 1963-1970; C.A.Woodhams, Construction. Apart from one scene at the King's Palace in England, the action of the play takes place in Scotland in the eleventh century in the castles at Forres, Inverness and Fife, and in and around the castle of Dunsinane. 1964 THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR by Nikolai Gogol was performed on the 3rd, 4th and 5th December 1964. In this programme Anthony Mash acted Hlestakov, a junior official; M.Evans, Construction; Mr J.Leeming and D.A. Owen on Lighting, 1960-1967; Mr G.R.Dolamore; Stage Management. 1965 LES FOURBERIES DE SCAPIN April 1965. 1965 THE DEVIL'S DISCIPLE, December 1965 1966 THE LONG AND THE SHORT AND THE TALL December 1966 1967 THE ALCHEMIST December 1967 1968 SERJEANT MUSGRAVE'S DANCE December 1968, by John Arden took place on the 4th,5th,6th December 1968. In 29
Page 1 and 2: No 81 /July 2015 The Old Stationer
Page 3 and 4: T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o
Page 11 and 12: OSA CHRISTMAS LUNCH 2015 at STATION
Page 19 and 20: Hi Geraint perring32@btinternet.com
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Page 39 and 40: got them both into trouble. Who wer
Page 47: Old Stationers Fantasy Football - S

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