Alleyn’s in the 1930s · armoury all built. ... French Club inaugurated. 1935 Nazis repudiate...

Alleyn’s in the 1930s


‘Out of algebra came forth sweetness’ – Edward Alleyn Magazine, March 1934


Back row:

Douglas Fielder, Denys Carden, Edward Wickes, Anthony Tunstall, John Bate, Dennis Fowler, Neil

French

Middle row:

Tom Bamford, David Gibson, Kenneth Hovey, David Alexander, Dudley Ferdinando, John McAnuff

Front row:

Peter Philpott, Charles Jessup, Douglas Smith, Leslie Gosling, Rodney Scrase, Harold Pettinger,

Laurence Garrett


CONTENTS

‘However, there is something I would like to emphasise for future generations. They should

take every chance and opportunity they’ve got whilst at Alleyn’s because you’ll never have

such great opportunities to benefit yourself before heading out into the difficult world –

which it is now. Grab all you can from what is offered to you at Alleyn’s.’ (Denys Carden)

Introduction 1

Timeline of the 1930s 3

Beyond the School gates: a background to the 1930s 5

• The Depression • Politics • King & Country: a sense of duty • Media in the 1930s

• Visitors • Youth movements • The role of women • Wars and rumours of wars •

Appeasement •

Atmosphere at Alleyn’s 20

• First days at School • School journal • Break-times • Founder’s Day

Headmaster: RB Henderson 26

• Philosophy of RBH • A public school? • Aloof figure • RBH’s Christian faith

• Chapel • Expansion of school facilities • House system • Prefects • OTC • Sport

• Oxford & Cambridge • Commerce • Pastoral care • Cinema • A gentle side

• Henderson’s legacy

Privilege 48

• Charitable causes • Duke of York camps • Where did boys live? • Funding an

Alleyn’s education • Alleyn’s Association Fund

School Curriculum and subjects 57

• Library • Lectures and clubs

Music and the arts at Alleyn’s 63

• Music • WJ Smith • John Lanchbery • Drama and musical productions

• Chapel choir • Founder’s Day concerts • Art

Staff in the 1930s 71

• Old Timers • Qualifications of staff • Favourite masters and mentors

• Individual disciplinarians • Eccentrics • Recognised masters

Sport 81

• Timetable for games • Representing the School • Fives • Running track


Discipline 89

• School Prefects • Prefects’ concerts

Rivalry with other schools 94

Officer Training Corps 96

• Uniform • OTC activities at Alleyn’s • Armistice Day • Military band • Field Day

• Camp • Certificate A • Inspection • Debate on OTC • Usefulness of OTC in war

• Outbreak of war

Wartime evacuation 105

• Evacuation to Maidstone • Evacuation reports

After Alleyn’s 110

• Leaving Alleyn’s • Help with finding jobs • Royal Air Force • Royal Navy

• Protecting the home front • Bletchely • Long Range Desert Group •

Monte Cassino • Far East & India • Chance war-time meetings of AOBs

Impressions of Alleyn’s today 117

Appendix

• Attendees and contributors to the 1930s project 120

• List of parents’ professions 121

• Biographical information on Alleyn’s World War II casualties 125

Bibliography 123

Acknowledgements 124


1

House Supper, 1931

Again we meet to memory the past

And celebrate the present, while we may,

Renew old friendships recently o’ercast

By varied interests of a later day.

Our deeper debt remains; dare we deny

In manhood boyhood’s ancient loyalty?

INTRODUCTION

As Head of Alumni Relations at Alleyn’s School I have often lamented my lack of instantaneous

recording device on hand when I speak to former pupils on the hoof. Over the years they have

handed over gems of memories that have altered the way I look at the school where I work.

In a chance conversation with our then newly appointed Senior Deputy Head, Antony Faccinello, he

described a series of reunions he had been involved with at his last school, the Royal Grammar

School, (RGS) Guildford – the aim of which was to record the schoolboy memories of its alumni for

posterity. This set me thinking: could we do it here at Alleyn’s? Antony thought it worthwhile to

pursue it as an idea and, armed with his contact’s name at RGS, I strove to find out more.

‘Do it!’ Jenny Hipwell, Director of Development at RGS, said. ‘It’s been one of the most worthwhile

exercises to come from the alumni office. With the blessing of then Headmaster, Dr Colin DIggory,

the support of the senior management team, the English and History departments, the Upper and

Middle School Heads to ‘borrow’ pupil interviewers, we set a date for our first reunion.

And so, on 2 March 2010, Alleyn’s held its first oral history reunion and welcomed back to Townley

Road 19 Alleyn Old Boys (AOBs) who were here in the 1930s. AOB Ian MacPherson thought that

‘...had this reunion been mooted for 2010 back in the Thirties there might have been a few “come

off it”s! Unfortunately, Mr Upward is not around to advise me where the “s” should be, after or

before the apostrophe.’

Our guests charmed and beguiled our Year 9 (ages 13–14) and Year 12 (Lower Sixth or age 16–17)

with stories of their schoolboy antics. Dennis Fowler felt that ‘it cannot have been easy making sense

of the remarks of the “old codgers” in their charge!’ Fellow AOB, Kenneth Hovey, wrote that he ‘had

a most enjoyable day and was pleasantly surprised how memories of my time at Alleyn’s slowly, but

surely, returned to me. It was a day I will not forget.’ The names of our contributors, our

interviewers and those AOBs who sent in written accounts, are listed in the appendix.

What follows is a preliminary account of Alleyn’s in the 1930s using the stories told to our pupil

interviewers by the AOBs themselves, as well as written accounts sent in by AOBs who were unable

to attend the actual day.

For this report, I have also referred to the Edward Alleyn Magazine (EAM), the joint school and AOB

publication of the time, as I felt intrigued to find out what the official reports were saying about

many of the activities recalled by our AOB guests. The magazine contains so many first-hand

accounts of school business and events that it would have been foolish to leave them out – such as

the schoolboy report of a trip to Germany in 1937 where our anonymous writer is present at a Hitler

rally in Nuremberg .


2

I was also fortunate to find the Board of Education’s inspection report on Alleyn’s which was carried

out in 1932 and the London County Council’s inspection report of 1938.

As with all archival aspects at Alleyn’s, I consulted my bible, Arthur Chandler’s book Alleyn’s: The Co-

educational School. In consulting these additional sources, I have accidentally expanded the breadth

of this account of Alleyn’s in the 1930s from being one just based on oral history recollections. To

quote verbatim what our guests said without context would, I suspect, be a meaningless exercise.

While this account will form the basis of the 1930s chapter of the School’s eventual oral history

report, it is very much a work in progress. I hope readers of the 1930s will be prompted to add

further memories to the crucible and clarify some details which I have found difficult to confirm.

An obvious omission is our AOBs’ wartime experiences. It was abundantly clear from our

conversations that the 1930s AOBs, while shaped in their formative years by Alleyn’s, were affected

deeply by their war experiences. We were given tasters of what they did, in which theatres of war

they fought, and what duties they carried out. I have included some of this in the account but readily

admit to these being but a snapshot of the true extent of our AOBs’ involvement in the war effort.

Hundreds of AOBs fought in the Second World War. Without a doubt, a full account of their wartime

experience would be inspirational reading but one which is, alas, beyond the remit of this project.

Of those who fought, 133 did not return. Their names are listed on the School’s War Memorial

Board. It was very moving to see our guests on 2 March read and touch names on the honours

boards and remember them as fellow schoolboys. To see the names of the Second World War dead

together with the biographical details I have been able to find about these individuals, please follow

this link:

http://www.edwardalleynclub.com/design/pdfs/ww2%20biogs%20full%20merged%20for%20web.pdf.

If any reader has any more information to add, I would be delighted to receive it to make their

stories complete and to ensure that they are not forgotten.

It remains for me to thank my colleagues at Alleyn’s, our pupils and our eminent guests, for their

parts in recording the oral history of Alleyn’s in the 1930s.

All errors and omissions are of course my own.

Susannah Schofield

Head of Alumni Relations

January 2011

Note to text: where I have quoted directly from other sources, I have retained the original

punctuation and capitalisation.


3

1930s timeline

Year National/international news Alleyn’s

1929 Wall Street Crash. Great Depression (1929-32). General Election – Ramsay MacDonald becomes PM Arrival of ‘talking pictures’.

RB Henderson elected to membership of the Headmasters’ Conference. Speed king Sir Henry O'Neil de Hane Segrave visits Duke of York camp as Duke’s guest.

1930 Britain, US, Japan, France, and Italy sign naval disarmament treaty. Nazis gain in German elections. Amy Johnson became the first woman to fly solo from Britain to Australia. The Youth Hostels Association of Great Britain (YHA) founded.

Speed king Sir Henry O'Neil de Hane Segrave killed whilst attempting water speed record.

1931 Spain becomes a republic with overthrow of Alfonso XIII. A major financial crisis leads to the formation of a with MacDonald forms a National Government. German industrialists finance 800,000-strong Nazi party. Mukden Incident begins Japanese occupation of Manchuria. In US, Hoover proposes one-year moratorium of war debts.

Rifle range, orderly room, armoury all built. Launch of Alleyn’s School Fund Association. It was ‘to provide amenities which could not be provided by the authorities supplying the money for strictly educational purposes’. OTC camp cancelled because of nationwide outbreak of cerebro-spinal meningitis. Debate on OTC.

1932 Nazis lead in German elections with 230 Reichstag seats. Mosley launches British Union of Fascists (October) General Election in Britain. ‘Ten Year Rule’ abandoned, 23 March Famine in USSR. US protests Japanese aggression in Manchuria. Amelia Earhart is first woman to fly Atlantic solo.

50th birthday of Alleyn’s. Cancellation of summer OTC camp. Masters take a pay cut. Mock Elections held. Edward Upward joins as English master.

1933

Hitler appointed German Chancellor, gets dictatorial powers. Reichstag fire in Berlin; Nazi terror begins. Germany and Japan withdraw from League of Nations. ‘King and Country Debate’ held at Oxford Union on 9 February.

Henderson publishes Four

Witnesses.

1934

Chancellor Dollfuss of Austria assassinated by Nazis. Hitler becomes Führer. USSR admitted to League of Nations. Mao Zedong begins the Long March north with 100,000 soldiers.

Henderson receives Lambeth Degree of Bachelor of Divinity. Fives courts built. AOB Henry Cotton wins British Open Golf Championship. French Club inaugurated.

1935

Nazis repudiate Versailles Treaty, introduce compulsory military service. General Election in Britain – Stanley Baldwin becomes

School running track on Townley Road top fields built by boys. Sydney Wooderson ‘opened’ it


4

PM. Mussolini invades Ethiopia; League of Nations invokes sanctions.

Mock Elections held. Terrace pavilion built. Henderson introduces a scheme which linked Alleyn’s with New College, Oxford.

1936

Jarrow March. Crystal Palace burns down. Germans occupy Rhineland. Italy annexes Ethiopia. Rome-Berlin Axis proclaimed (Japan to join in 1940). Trotsky exiled to Mexico. King George V dies; succeeded by Edward VIII, who abdicates to marry an American-born divorcée, and is succeeded by George VI. Spanish Civil War begins. War between China and Japan begins, to continue throughout World War II. Battle of Cable Street (4 Oct).

Buttery built (now Sixth Form Centre) and Library built. A junior branch of the League of Nations Union set up by Upward. The AOB Club inaugurates the Jubilee Memorial Fund.

1937

Coronation of George VI. Neville Chamberlain replaces Baldwin as PM. Hitler repudiates war guilt clause of Versailles Treaty; continues to build German power. Italy withdraws from League of Nations. Japan invades China, conquers most of coastal area. Sydney Wooderson sets the world mile record (4 min 6.4 sec).

12 boys & 6 masters went to watch coronation. Exhibition of original manuscripts and books lent by J & E Bumpus, the Oxford Street booksellers. AOB Henry Cotton wins British Open Golf Championship. Scientific Society inaugurated.

1938

Hitler marches into Austria; political and geographical union of Germany and Austria proclaimed. Munich Pact: Britain, France and Italy agree to let Germany partition Czechoslovakia. Night of Broken Glass (Kristallnacht) 9-10 November.

Upward’s first novel Journey to

the Border published. Christopher Isherwood visited School.

1939

Germany invades Poland; occupies Bohemia and Moravia; renounces pact with England and concludes 10-year non-aggression pact with USSR. Russo-Finnish War begins; Finns to lose one-tenth of territory in 1940 peace treaty. Second World War begins. Last Duke of York camp held. Einstein writes FDR about feasibility of atomic bomb. Christopher Isherwood writes Goodbye to Berlin. Gone with the Wind premieres.

School evacuated to Maidstone (for seniors) and to Walmer then Monmouthshire (for juniors). Junior School ceases to operate. OBs’ Annual Dinner cancelled ‘indefinitely’. Henderson leaves to become Manchester Reader in Religious Education at University of Oxford. Attfield Bequest & bursaries founded.

1940 Battle of Britain

CR Allison becomes Headmaster (until 1945).

1941 Alleyn’s evacuated to Rossall.


5

BEYOND THE SCHOOL GATES

The 1930s was such a turbulent time in national and world affairs that it is unsurprising that many of

the memories of Alleyn Old Boys (AOBs) of the period, as well as the literature produced by the

School and its pupils, are concerned with events happening on the wider stage beyond the confines

of Townley Road. The Edward Alleyn Magazine1 is packed with first-hand written accounts of

political and social developments and occurrences.

Equally interesting, however, are the striking absence of contemporary mention or current recall of

events. Events such as the abdication crisis, the burning down of the Crystal Palace, the Jarrow

March (all in 1936) seem to have been completely bypassed in the School’s publications. On the

sporting side of life, the terrific run of Dulwich Hamlet Football Club victories in the Isthmian League

throughout this period also go without mention. The Magazine is mute on the matter of George VI’s

coronation in 1937 (even though, tantalisingly, there were some Alleyn’s pupils and staff who

witnessed the parade), as well as the Anschluss of 1938.

However, the pages of the Magazine do give valuable insights into what Alleyn’s boys were like,

what they got up to and what was happening out in the big wide world. The reports of the Fifty Club

(the School’s debating society) provide perhaps the best barometer of what was uppermost in the

pupils’ minds of the time. In February 1936 the Club reports that it ‘did much last term. It decided

that it would not fight Mussolini, though it had no compunction about throwing him out of a

balloon. It found “that the OTC is good fun” and that “co-education is the spice of life”.’2

The Great Depression

The period was greatly dominated by the after-effects of the Great Depression of 1929–32. Interwar

Britain was a country of strong regional economic contrasts, with the full effects of poverty being felt

on Clydeside, in South Wales, Northern England, Northern Ireland, and south-west Scotland. But

while thousands suffered acutely in the industrial heartlands, many other areas saw rises in

standards of living. In the Midlands, London and the South East, new industries were developing in

chemicals, plastics, motor vehicle manufacturing, electrical engineering, synthetic textiles; there was

a boom in service industries which included insurance, advertising, entertainment.3 The boys at

Alleyn’s came into contact with these new industries and developments through organised school

trips. Members of the Fifty Club went on a trip to the Brixton Telegraph Exchange in 1930;4 they

were most disappointed when a planned trip to the Ford factory was cancelled because the workers

went on strike: ‘why on earth did the Ford workers stop work on the day of the Fifty Club outing? Or,

as the gentleman said, “How striking!”’5. Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) recalled when

1 The main publication of the School community of the period, hereafter referred to simply as ‘the Magazine’.

2 Magazine, February 1936 p324

3 Contemporary Britain, 1914-1979, Pearce, p89

4 Magazine, March 1930 p387

5 Ibid, July 1933 p971


6

‘the applied science visitor [came] who, in 1935, gave us a talk on a new product which he called

“beetle” and which we nowadays know as plastic. It was totally new then and we marvelled

accordingly.’

Dulwich was, as now, a ‘select London dormitory suburb’6. In his memoirs, David Alexander

(Brading’s, 1933–42) writes that Alleyn’s School was ‘part of the Dulwich Estate founded by Edward

Alleyn, an actor manager contemporary of Shakespeare. It was (and still is) a private estate under

the Estates Governors who managed the three schools, the Chapel, the Alms House for twelve old

people and a multiplicity of property under long lease. They were strict in their local regulations and

tenants could not remove trees, park cars, let gardens grow wild or otherwise spoil the environment,

nor would they allow buses to run through the estate, only along the edges…. [Dulwich] was an

attractive and leafy suburb in which to grow up.’7

It is hoped that our boys were perhaps more sheltered than most from the more extreme

consequences of the economic collapse, (and at this time public school boys were on average 4”

[10.16cm] taller than those attending state schools because of their better diet)8; nonetheless the

decade known as the ‘Hungry Thirties’ were bleak for all concerned.

Even the Board of Education’s inspectors referred to the Depression in its inspection report on

Alleyn’s in 1932, blaming the lack of a library at Alleyn’s ‘to the financial situation’9 and suggesting

that the increase in the number of boys in the sixth form was ‘economic causes must be counted as

a contributory influence in keeping boys at school’10. Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) commented

that ‘the whole of this generation [was] much influenced by the effects of the Great Depression and

WW2.’ While there are no obvious reports of boys having to leave the School as a result of financial

hardship (although this is unlikely to have been reported in the Magazine), it is more than probable

that many families living in affluent Dulwich had their savings wiped out by the Crash of 1929 and

continued to feel the effects of this throughout the 1930s. The School did acknowledge the country’s

straitened financial situation through the Magazine’s pages. In March 1932 the editorial reported:

‘The cry of economy is not a mere platitudinous headline in the daily newspapers. It is a real state of

affairs affecting not only the national finances but also those smaller institutions which fulfil

important functions in the state. The chief assistance which can be given to the finances of the School

is to economise. But it must always be realised that economy does not mean so much stringent

restrictions as wise spending.

6 Dulwich College, Piggott, p243

7 Something of a Life, Alexander, p22

8 Pearce, p87

9 Board of Education Inspection Report, 1932, p3

10 Ibid, pp7-8


7

The School has always been successful in many directions. We may say, with some confidence and

satisfaction, that although times are difficult, it is still making really good progress.’11

Indeed, in 1932, masters took a cut in salary because of the country’s financial crisis.12 In his Headmaster’s Review on Speech Day of the same year, Mr. Henderson was reported to have said that ‘with regard to the Government’s call for economy, he [RBH] said that Alleyn’s could not cut down, it could only cut out; hence the closing of the Woodwork Department for the term.’13 Another cutback in 1932 was the cancellation of that summer’s OTC Camp, ‘This, of course, is in consequence of the financial situation in the country.’14 For those AOBs unlucky enough to be out of work, the School appealed to the Magazine’s readers for help:

‘TRADE DEPRESSION AS AFFECTING OLD BOYS. At the present time there are OBs who are unemployed and in financial difficulties owing to the widespread depression in industry and trade generally. It was only to be expected that the Alleyn Benevolent Fund would be called upon to assist sufferers in such cases, but whereas financial assistance is being granted, what is really required is employment. This is extremely difficult to find,

and if any reader of this appeal should be able to offer employment or know of vacancies of any description, whether junior or otherwise, temp or perm, the Committee would be greatly obliged if particulars were sent to either of the undersigned, Chairman, H Leonard Hough or Hon Sec & Treasurer.’

15

This call for help was often repeated in subsequent issues and, in 1936, it was written, ‘Some time ago, the Prince of Wales suggested that the unemployment problem could best be attacked by splitting it up into little bits and tackling a bit near home…. This is an appeal to Old Boys to help in what both the Headmaster and the [AOB] Club Committee believe to be useful work, and in the bit of a large problem that is nearest home [sic].’16 Politics Against a background of troubled times, pupils did raise their heads over the political parapet and

the School held mock General Elections in parallel with national polling. In March 1932, the

Magazine reports ‘Let it be said that the Mock Election held last term was treated if not with

overmuch perceptible seriousness, at least with enthusiasm. The School, following national feelings,

11 Magazine, March 1932, p709

12 Alleyn’s: The Coeducational School, Chandler, p62

13 Ibid, November 1932, p818


15Ibid, March 1932, p752

16Ibid, February 1936, pp341-2


8

returned the National Government candidate.’17 This same issue reproduces a lovely poem, written

by ‘S d’AP’, describing this mock election:18

Mock Election

…First L___n stood for Tory’s backward cause,

Oppressive taxes and Protective Laws;

But none like him knows how the mob to handle;

He wins his votes by talking local scandal!

Next the New Party did their plans disgorge –

Oh, vote for England, Mosley and for George!...

Loud Sh___y Labour’s banner then upraised.

Like all enthusiasts, a little crazed.

Of capitalism’s crimes he bawls a lot,

With proletarian wrongs he’s smoking hot.

Long K___y then began his tardy fight.

The National Liberal candidate he’s bright;

For Liberals he doesn’t care a groat –

He only wants to split the National vote….

The mob to L__n gives its special favour;

They like his hearty cheer and spicy flavour…

At last the polling day long look’d for comes.

The whole quadrangle with excitement hums;…

L___n’s elected, reaping flattery’s fruit:

Alleyn’s, like England, stoops to lick the boot!

Mr Tilley recalled the mock General Election held at the School in 1935

‘to mimic the autumn General Election. Conservatives won easily with 280 or so votes to Labour’s 62,

but the Fascists polled 53, even though Mussolini was invading Ethiopia at the time. Poor old Liberals

got 10 behind the Communists. It was all a joke, but it shows there was not a lot of awareness of what

Hitler was up to.’

The Fifty Club held its own mock election and it ‘elected the Socialist Candidate to Parliament

despite the overwhelming vote of the School for the National Party.’19

King and Country: a sense of duty

One of the great influential debates of the early 1930s was the ‘The King and Country Debate’ at the

Oxford Union held on 9th February 1933 (‘That this House will in no circumstances fight for its King

and Country’). The motion was passed by 275 votes to 153, and became one of the most well-known

and notorious debates conducted in the Union. The outcome of the debate was not reported or

referred to in the Magazine and the Headmaster didn’t comment on it in his address on Speech Day,


18 Ibid, p748

19 Magazine, February 1936, p324


9

which is surprising given Henderson’s passionate belief in the obligation and duty of the individual.

However, Lord Loch, the Chairman of Governors and guest of honour, touched on the theme of

‘duty’ when he said that a school such as Alleyn’s:

‘teaches you especially to play the game and to stand by your side, whether it be house, school or

country, and not to plough a lone furrow… A man can attain the height of his character only by

playing for his side, for his school, for his country.’20

The willingness to fight for one’s King and country was generally something that would be expected

of a public school boy in any period of our history. However, at the time, because of a lack of

investment in the country’s defence forces following the First World War,21 the Officer Training

Corps was fast becoming a necessary adjunct to the main defence forces. Staggeringly, the OTC’s

Inspecting Officer of 1935, Col LM Gibbs, DSO MC, in his address to the School admitted that

‘if a war was forced on us in the future, our small Regular Army would be inadequate, and the nation

would look to the Officer Training Corps for trained leaders. The OTC was thus an essential part of our

Imperial defence organisation.’ 22

As will be seen in these pages, the OTC was a major part of school life at Alleyn’s and throughout this

period, the boys’ military awareness was frequently reinforced by visiting lecturers addressing

subjects such as ‘Submarines’ – giving the boys an insight ‘into the value of the submarine and of the

Navy generally to the British Empire.’23 Cdr The Hon Sereld Hay RN OBE came in to speak about ‘The

Navy of today’24, whiles the sixth form had a talk on English shipping.25 In February 1939 the boys

were shown a lantern-lecture on the crucial topic of air defence.26

Given that the OTC was openly being described by the military authorities as key to the country’s

defence system, it hardly seems out of place for the irrepressible Fifty Club to form ‘itself into a

House of Commons, to debate on the Labour Government’s Bill for Naval Limitation.’ The Magazine

reports that ‘the Bill was lost and EH Gilmour [playing the role of the PM] announced the resignation

of his Government.’27

20 Magazine, November 1933, p1019

21 Occasioned in no small part by the ‘Ten Year Rule’ government guideline, first adopted in August 1919 that

the armed forces should draft their estimates ‘on the assumption that the British Empire would not be engaged in any great war during the next ten years’. The Rule was abandoned on 23 March, 1932.

22 Magazine, July 1935, p215

23 Ibid, March 1930, p357

24 Ibid, [DATE]


26 Ibid, February 1939, p184

27 Magazine, November 1930 p496


10

Media in the 1930s

Another interesting theme developing during the 1930s was the role of the BBC. Again, the Fifty Club

turned its attention to this hot topic and

‘debated as to whether it should be the aim of the BBC to entertain and not educate, to

educate and not to entertain, or to do both or neither. [Mon Dieu, what a sentence!]

Of course, we came to no conclusions, we seldom do, but by a system of graft and bribery,

the opposition managed to win most of the votes.’28

In the programme for the Annual Concert of 1933, there appears one act which makes me wonder

whether the seemingly remote and austere Henderson might after all have had a sense of humour.

Two of the visiting performers for this concert were a female comedy duo ‘Gert and Daisy’, also

known as ‘Elsie and Doris Waters. These are now no strangers, their voices having been flung to the

farthest corners of the world by Empire radio… We were even given morsels which Sir John Reith will

not permit…’29 One wonders whether RBH permitted it?

Throughout this period there was a steady increase in the power of the press. At the same time

(March, 1931) that Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin was attacking the press barons Lords

Beaverbrook and Rothermere for their selfish aim of ‘power without responsibility – the prerogative

of the harlot throughout the ages’30 our very own Fifty Club also examined the power of these media

moguls. It debated the ‘Freedom of the Press and the position of millionaire Press-Lords.’

Interestingly the result was ‘against any condemnation of the present condition of the Press.’31 As is

clear from the way the Fifty Club voted in its mock election of 1935, Baldwin-sympathisers they

weren’t.

Continuing this theme, in March 1934 the masters too became involved with debating the state of

the popular press: their first debated motion was

“That this House declines to read the Daily Express.” The motion was proposed and opposed by

Masters: Mr RLW Jones seconded by Mr Goldner speaking in favour, and by Mr Pasley seconded by

Mr Upward speaking against the motion. The motion was lost by 17 votes to 13, after a very amusing

evening.32

The schoolboy debaters were clearly possessed of visionary qualities as, after the Second World

War, and on the back of aggressive marketing campaigns and resolutely populist editorial stances

during the conflict the circulation of the Daily Express had grown sufficiently to make it the world’s

greatest selling newspaper.


29 Ibid. July 1933, p 987

30 Pearce, p79




11

Let us now praise famous men (and women)

The School and its pupils enjoyed visits from major figures on the national stage. The death of

George V was acknowledged thus:

‘The death of His Majesty King George V was the occasion of a short Memorial Service in the Great

Hall on January 21st

, followed later in the day by the broadcast from St James’s Palace of King

Edward’s Proclamation. The School was closed on Tuesday, January 28th

, the day of his late Majesty’s

funeral, to give us an opportunity of attending the ceremony.’33

The Magazine skates over the abdication and the next royal event it reports is George VI’s

coronation. The editorial describes how:

‘At the Coronation Captain Pell and five senior NCOs represented the OTC and were assigned places

near Buckingham Palace. 37,000 pupils from the LCC Schools were assigned places on the Victoria

Embankment. Six masters and 12 boys went from Alleyn’s and had an excellent view of the

procession.’34

Frustratingly, no further report or detail is given; it adds that: ‘the coronation was further celebrated

at the Founder’s Day concert where ‘Elgar’s Coronation Ode (written in honour of the coronation of

Edward VII) was performed by us in honour of the coronation of George VI.’35

As to the relative merits of popular culture vs. statesmanship an intriguing ‘balloon debate’ whittles

down several leading personalities of the day to a popular comic film actor – Jack Hulbert.36 In the

original balloon there were ‘Bernard Shaw, Sutcliffe,37 Gandhi, Jack Hulbert, HRH the Prince of

Wales, Mrs Mollison38 Sir Oswald Mosley.39’ ‘Mrs Mollison was the first to be ejected from the

balloon, and Jack Hulbert stayed in till the end (which may or may not prove the superiority of

comedy over tragedy).’ 40

The School played host to some eminent visitors during these years. In about 1937 Mr Tilley

remembers ‘the Hon CJ Lyttelton, later Lord Cobham, and then Captain of Worcestershire, was in

the MCC side which played the School 1st XI. He hit a six from Big Side, right over the school building

33 Ibid. February 1936, p300

34 Ibid. June 1937, p526

35 Magazine, October 1937, p602

36 John Norman ‘Jack’ Hulbert (24 April 1892–25 March 1978)

37 Herbert Sutcliffe (1894- 1978) Yorkshire and England batsman, chiefly famous for his opening partnership

with Jack Hobbs (an Alleyn’s parent) for England.

38 Amy Johnson (1 July 1903–5 January 1941) was a pioneering English aviator.

39 Sir Oswald Ernald Mosley, 6th Baronet (16 November 1896 – 3 December 1980) known principally as the

founder of the British Union of Fascists.



12

and the ball landed in Townley Road. I suspect this was never done again.’ Peter Philpott (Brading’s,

1934–43) remembers Sydney Wooderson, ‘the Mighty Atom’:

‘He was, at one time, the world one-mile championship runner. He used to go round the schools in

south London and do a performance of a one-mile race against the schools’ four best quarter-milers.

They took a quarter of a mile each and he ran the mile.’

And having Edward Upward as a master enabled a visit to Alleyn’s by Christopher Isherwood. 41

David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931–39) remembers ’we had a day with him in the class which was most

interesting, and that was certainly a lesson I do remember particularly!’ The Magazine reports how

the School’s ‘distinguished visitor gave a most interesting lecture on China. He illustrated his talk

with lantern-slides from photographs which Mr Auden and he had taken during a journey in China

earlier in the year.’42

Youth movements: home and abroad

Several youth movements had been growing since the start of the 20th century stemming chiefly

from roots put down by Baden-Powell’s Boy Scouts in 1907. Alleyn’s boys were no different in

wanting to get back to nature. Boys regularly went on camps and pitched their tents on school trips,

bunked in youth hostels and attended the Duke of York’s camps. These last were a series of camps

inaugurated by the then Duke of York (later George VI) in 1921 which brought together boys from

different social backgrounds to enjoy outdoor pursuits. The Duke of York Camps encompassed the

youth of the whole nation.

Youth hostels are referred to by Alleyn’s boys in their reports. 43 One who found himself at a youth

hostel in the Lake District explained that:

‘To the majority of us Youth Hostels were an unknown quantity; we found the food good and our

heavy sleep only broken by an occasional sleep-talker, spoke well for the beds. At first we looked

upon the small daily quota of work as an evil to be evaded, but our indignation soon abated and we

were washing up with the best.’44

Another boy even contrasted the youth hostels of Britain with those he found in Germany: ‘the

Youth Hostels, which are far more numerous than in England… afforded very cheap lodging.’45

41 Christopher Isherwood (1904–1986) was an English-American novelist and lifelong friend of Edward Upton,

co-writing the Mortmere stories.


43The Youth Hostels Association of Great Britain (YHA) was founded in 1930.

44 Magazine, May 1939, p233

45 Ibid, October 1937, p615


13

The role of women

While the School in the 1930s was predominantly inhabited by males – the first female teacher

wasn’t appointed until during the Second World War46 – there is an account of a debate by the Fifty

Club deliberating ‘that a woman’s place is in the home’. It shows great insight and perspicacity. One

pertinent observer commented that ‘by restricting women to the home, we should lose half of the

world’s brains.’ Another said that ‘even as brains were to be found in both sexes, so opportunities

for using them should be given to both.’ EE Young supported the last speaker, saying that the war

had brought about a great improvement in and development of women’s ability, both in business

and in sport. The results of this will not be fully appreciated for several generations to come.’

Reassuringly for this female reader, the motion was roundly defeated by ten votes to 19.47

Wars and rumours of wars

Throughout this time, the memory of the First World War cast its long shadow over national and

international matters. There is a haunting poem written by ‘Gamma’ in 193048:

November 11th

Dead beyond dreams, in dreams they are alive,

Silent in memory their memories strive;

Not for oblivion the poppies’ spell

But keen remembrance of the years of hell.

Gamma.

And if this isn’t enough of a reminder, one of the first Magazines of the decade reports the death of

AOB JM Gillespie (Brown’s, 1903–10) who died ‘as an after effect of the war.’49 Twelve years on from

the Great War, the Alleyn Benevolent Fund continued to assist ‘OBs and others connected with the

School, including the dependents of OBs who lost their lives in the war.’50

Speeding along through this decade, I can well imagine the scene at the AOBC Annual Dinner after

the traditional toast to ‘the OBs who fell in the War – a heart-searching hush.’51

46Arthur Chandler reports the departure of Miss MC Gaukrodger in 1943 who ‘had been the first woman ever

to teach in the building’ (Chandler, p82); he doesn’t include her in the staff list which would give the year she

was appointed. He does list Miss EH Young who was the School Librarian from 1932-39.







14

As will be mentioned elsewhere (see chapter on the Headmaster), the prevailing thinking of the time

was that Britain was the world’s peacemaker. In 1935, a writer calling himself ‘S’ warns of the

dangers of nations isolating themselves. He writes:

‘…in a fearful world like this, psychologically unbalanced as a result of the last war, the utmost must

be done to produce mutual confidence and co-operation.’

And ‘S’ continues his warning in this vein:

‘Without the League the danger of war would be much greater; and once a war breaks out, no

amount of preparation, not even the OTCs, can save the world from chaos.’52

In an essay written for the Jubilee Memorial Fund53 pupil JL Alexander54 considered ‘The League of

Nations in the World Today’. It would not be unrealistic to suppose that his views were

representative of the time. The Magazine’s reviewer of his essay writes:

‘Admitting [the League’s] partial failure on the political side, [Alexander] emphasised its great social

and humanitarian work, regarding this alone as sufficient cause for its preservation. He shows how

deeply the young appreciate the implications of peace and war, and like many, refuses to allow the

League the military power to enforce sanctions. In conclusion he affirms his belief in the final triumph

of the League because of the alternative “with its terrible vistas of war, misery and chaos”.’55

At the beginning of the academic year in 1936, a junior branch of the League of Nations Union56 was

set up. ‘Anyone wishing to become a member of the Branch should apply to Mr Upward.’57

Appeasement

There are many historians who look back on Britain’s policy of appeasement in the run-up to the

Second World War with a mixture of bafflement and shame. However, as has been said, memories

of the First World War and its horrors were indelibly strong. Alleyn’s was not unusual in ensuring

52 Ibid, July 1935, p216

53 The AOB Club inaugurated the Jubilee Memorial Fund to stimulate ‘interest among those still at School in

their responsibilities as citizens both of this country and the world as a whole.’ Magazine October 1936, p468

54 Later Sir Lindsay Alexander (September 12 1920 – 24

th May, 2000). Prime mover of the British shipping

revolution through containerisation, which cut costs and got round union obstruction (Obituary, Daily

Telegraph)


56 The League of Nations Union (LNU) was an organisation formed in the UK to promote international justice,

collective security and a permanent peace between nations based upon the ideals of the League of Nations.

The LNU became the largest and most influential organisation in the British peace movement.



15

that its pupils took part in programmes to promote international co-operation and understanding. In

the summer of 1937, several members of the sixth form spent their holidays in France, Germany and

Italy. The Magazine admonishes the boys and School to greater effort still on this front, saying

‘we should like this to become even more common, either by method of exchange or independently.

It is one of the best methods of promoting international good will.’58

In 1937, a group of boys went on a trip to Belgium where they visited Ypres and saw the trenches.

The review of their trip is written in French and it describes how the trip was organised ‘pour voir la

Porte Menin et la Cathédrale rebâtie après la guerre’; they also saw also Mont Kemmel ‘site

stratégique pendant la guerre’.59 Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) was ‘awarded an LCC

Travelling Scholarship to Germany, summer 1938. Three months, and it covered all travelling and

living expenses, including four-week course at Bonn University!’ Mr Beattie also remembered the

German master, Mr Bickford-Smith, organising a school trip in 1938 to Amsterdam, as part of a

national package arranged by World Friendship Tours: there were ‘700–800 in all, from all over

England…. We stayed with families, [with a] return visit in summer holiday by our hosts.’

Even after Chamberlain’s piece of paper had been scrunched up, Alleyn’s was still organising

international trips. The Magazine of February 1939 reports that ‘German-speaking members of the

Modern Languages Club had a treat in the form of a German Christmas Festival (Weihnachtsfeier),

which was held at the London University, Russell Square’;60 and, in the same issue, there is a review

of a trip to Switzerland: ‘The party was made up of a few schools mostly from around London, and a

few of their masters. Alleyn’s School was well represented, having about 20.’61

Back at School, pupils were given talks and lectures relating to foreign matters. In 1931 there is a

reference to a talk on ‘Developments in Vienna during the last decade’ but sadly no details are given

of it or the reception of the talk by the pupils.62 Later in the decade the EAM reports that there were

‘three interesting lectures last term... Mr Kenneth de Courcy63 gave us a very clear exposition of the

European situation, concluding with an appeal to join the Territorials.’ There was another on the


59 Ibid, June 1937, p558


61 Ibid, February 1939, p185-6


63 In 1934 de Courcy became secretary of the Imperial Policy Group, which favoured appeasement as the best

means of preserving the Empire. In this capacity he travelled the Continent in the years before Munich, being

received by Mussolini and Eduard Benes, president of Czechoslovakia. Neville Chamberlain regularly asked for

de Courcy's reports of these interviews, much to the annoyance of the Foreign Office. In 1938 de Courcy began

to write and publish Intelligence Digest, a private subscription newsletter (Obituary, Weekly Telegraph 2

March,1999)


16

Dutch East Indies, ‘while Mr HG Chancellor’s lecture on “A Pioneer of Peace” was perhaps most

absorbing of the three.’64

Accounts of life overseas from AOBs appeared frequently in the Magazine during this period. There

are reports from Zimbabwe, Malaya and Japan, most of which contain sentiments supporting

Western and British might. Following the Manchurian Crisis (1931), AOB HH Thomas wrote a long

piece about Japan in the edition of March 1933 and the editor endorsed Thomas’s observations

pointing out ‘present conditions make them even more interesting.’ Thomas writes that ‘Japan is the

one Oriental country which has so far succeeded in the task of organising itself to a certain extent on

Western lines…’ and, in a way, goes on to explain the rationale behind the future kamikaze attacks

the Allies were to face, ‘It is counted no heroism for a Japanese to put considerations of duty before

those of self. It is his cultural inheritance to do so.’ Thomas describes how the Japanese are

’Heirs of an intensely nationalistic, self-contained civilisation, they are floundering in the vast modern,

international, complicated world. Although they hardly know it, they have not succeeded in

reconciling the two. This in part explains their present isolation. They have developed a kind of

persecution complex. They believe the rest of the world is in league to slight them.’65

Closer to European soil, there may be an oblique reference to the Spanish Civil War (July 1936–April

1939] in the Magazine’s ‘Oxford Notes’ section: ‘Mr Hall… was… one of the team of three sent to

represent the Society at a bullfight, or something, in Spain last summer; but a lot of fighting started

and the Bulls were really Bears, and so they went to Marseilles…’66

In 1934 one commentator from outside the confines of Dulwich brought his Speech Day audience up

to a start by grandly claiming that the public school system would protect Britain from experiencing

the same disturbing developments going on in Europe on its shores. Dr AD Lindsay67, the Master of

Balliol, was guest of honour at the 1934 Speech Day.

‘[He] referred to the disturbed conditions in Austria following the assassination of Dr Dollfuss,68

and

expressed the belief that such a state of affairs could never arise in England. For this we had to thank

the effect of schools like Alleyn’s, for they helped to unify the classes by cutting through the various

strata of society and thus rendering impossible the marked divisions which existed in other countries.

64 Magazine, June 1937, p526

65 Ibid, March 1933, p917-24


67 A.D. Lindsay (14th May, 1879 - 18th March, 1952), subsequently created 1st Baron of Lindsay of Birker of

Low Ground in 1945, was a moral philosopher and strong opponent of appeasement, standing as the anti-Munich candidate in the by-election that took place in Oxford in October, 1938. On the outbreak of the Second World War Lindsay became chairman of the Joint Recruiting Board, with the task of allocating conscientious objectors to work of national importance other than military service. He also played an important role in organizing education for the armed forces.

68 Engelbert Dollfuss (1892-1934) was an Austrian Christian Social and Patriotic Front statesman. He served as

the chancellor of Austria from 1932, and was dictator from 1933 until his assassination by Nazi agents in 1934.


17

In fact, he felt that the Public and Secondary Schools of England were becoming more and more the

centres of social and political life of the country.’69

In November 1933, the word ‘Nazi’ appears for the first time in the Magazine. It was in the context

of an account of a school trip to Cologne where ‘there was the largest and shrillest German cook that

ever was, who could make more noise than 300 “Nazi-jugend” and feed them all….’70 There is a

more disconcerting account of a trip to Germany in 1934 where the boys are marched in a hearty

welcome parade through the streets of Freienwalde which make this reader more than a tad

uncomfortable with its Hitler Youth undertones, not helped by the reviewer signing himself as

‘NAZI’.

‘A party of 24 London school-boys left Waterloo Station as the guests of the Berlin Municipality, under

the scheme introduced by the International Summer Schools’ Association to effect an exchange of

visits by German schoolboys of Berlin and English schoolboys of London.’

On arriving in Freienwalde

‘the band was there to play us through the streets, so, after being received by our hosts, we solemnly

marched, in column of route [sic] to our temporary home among tall trees and wooded slopes… Dr

Abbé, the leader of the whole party, then greeted us with “Heil, England und Deutschland!” To which

we replied in like manner.’

The boys were given lessons which

‘began at 9.30 with a singing lesson, in which we learnt many strange and warlike melodies…. We

were particularly impressed by the Schiffschebewerk, a monstrous ship-lifter, the largest of its kind in

Europe.’71

I wonder whether the ship-lifter was a civilian one?

There is an even more jaw-dropping account of a stay in Germany in 1937. ‘For two months my

domicile was to be with a very charming German family….’ The anonymous writer experienced

‘German roads, from which concrete Autobahn to tracks completely innocent of all metalling are

lined with fruit trees….’He then, in an understated way, reports how

‘Enthusiasm ran high over this year’s Party Rally at Nürnberg, and I was fortunate enough to have the

opportunity of talking with a member of the “Labour Corps” who marched past the Führer… The main

effect of marching past and listening to German rhetoric in crowds seems to have been a slightly

modified form of mass-hysteria, the almost terrifying experience of feeling that 1000s upon 1000s are

at one moment all acting and thinking in exactly the same way.’72

69 Magazine, December 1934, p118


71 Magazine, December 1934, p139-41

72 Ibid, October 1937, p615-6


18

By 1938, the signs of Hitler’s threat to European peace were clear to one book reviewer. The

reviewer ’L’ describes The House that Hitler Built by Stephen H Roberts. He wrote, ‘whole libraries

have been written on the phenomenon of Naziism [sic] in Germany... here we have a book by a

professor of economics written more or less fm an objective standpoint…‘But L warned: ‘some parts

of the book are apt to give one a cold shiver down the spine.’ For example,

‘…his [Roberts’s] description of the activities of the Ministry of Propaganda and the Gestapo shows

the utter inhumanity with which Germany is being ruled.

In this book for the first time we are presented with a full picture of Germany’s internal condition and

policy – the financial jugglery of Dr Schacht’s “geared” currency, the economic, political and military

regimentation of the country, and the enthusiasm of German youth. This is a book which we cannot

recommend too highly, and whose vital importance we cannot emphasise too strongly.’

To emphasise his recommendation, ‘L’s review has the note ‘This book has recently been put in the

School Library’ appended to it.73

Evidence that Alleyn’s was alert to this possible state of emergency appears in the editorial of

October 1938. It is likely that the Magazine was going to press at the time of Munich Conference

(where, at the end of September 1938, Chamberlain met Hitler, Mussolini and the French PM

Édouard Daladier in Germany to discuss the occupation of the Sudetenland). The editor wistfully

writes:

‘It is beyond our powers to predict the outcome of this week’s international diplomacy, but as we sip

our morning milk and gaze across pacific football pitches on which the brown leaves of autumn are

already settling, wars and the rumours of war seem far away. We can only wait and hope.’74

By the time of the next issue the Alleyn Old Boys’ Club (AOBC), in a list of its various sub-committees,

includes one called ‘Emergency’. This was ‘to undertake the administration of all Club business in the

event of national emergency’ and was set up in September 1938.75 At the outbreak of war:

‘The War-Time Emergency Committee of the Athletic Club have met and have decided that

the Club at Burbage Road is to be kept going as long as there is sufficient support to make it

worthwhile…The Pavilion is to be suitably blacked out so that the usual facilities and social

activities of the Club will be available.’76

In this same issue, the Club also reported that ‘We regret to announce that, owing to the war, the

Annual Dinner which was to have been held on Wednesday, Nov 15th, has been indefinitely

postponed.’77

73 Ibid, May 1938 p78-9


75 Ibid, February 1939 p191




19

At the close of the decade, the mood had changed. At School, four members of staff joined Armed

Forces: Commander AD Lacy RN, Maj EC Eayrs, Capt JHG Pell & Lt RHD Young.78 And the usually

irrepressible Fifty Club lamented its unsuccessful debate which proposed ‘that this House approves

conscription’. Sadly it reported that ‘We hardly feel that the fact that the motion was carried by

eight votes to two has much significance.’79


79 Ibid, May 1939, p231


20

ATMOSPHERE AT ALLEYN’S

‘It was a fun-filled existence in a beautiful spot.’ John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934–39)

At our Memories Day reunion we began by asking our AOB-visitors about how they remembered

Alleyn’s. much of what they said chimes with how today’s pupils feel about Alleyn’s. For example,

John Shea (Dutton’s, 1935–39) wrote

‘There are no particular stand-out memories, I have a wonderful feeling of having belonged to a fine institution which not only educated me formally but also showed me how to learn and disciplined my life in the best sense and gave me my self-worth. I cherish the many friends I made and I would dearly like to meet any of them who have survived this far to recapture many happy memories.’

The 1938 LCC inspectors too picked up on the warmth found at Townley Road: ‘the general atmosphere of friendliness prevailing in the classrooms is a tribute to the personality of the teachers and to the general tone of the school.’80

This friendliness is very much one of the founding blocks of the Alleyn’s ethos which exists today. When Robert Young was considering whether to apply for a post at Alleyn’s, he took the advice of ‘Watkin, Director of Education for Gloucestershire’ and a former master at Alleyn’s, who loyally told Young 'Alleyn's was a wonderful day school in South London that behaved exactly as if it were a boarding school,’ going on to describe it ‘as the best school in England.'81 Many of our AOBs of the period mentioned their feelings of loyalty held for the School and for each other. Mr Shea ‘enjoyed the camaraderie and the feeling of belonging. I felt deep respect for my school. I felt I was a member of several organisations; there was my house and then my form, my masters and fellow pupils – all contributed to inspire me with this great feeling of belonging.’

He also remarked that ‘a healthy, what is known as “tough love” atmosphere prevailed,’ at the

School, ‘most boys developed strong loyalties for their masters and their friends and, while they

might not admit it openly, they had a deep respect for their school and their education.’

First days at School

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) recalled joining Alleyn’s at the age of nine. ‘It was a bit

overwhelming when I started because there were about 800 boys in the school…. everything

seemed enormous and large.’ Another new boy, Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) remembered

‘turning up as a new boy and going through the main entrance door. I walked into assembly and sat

in the front row as a brand-new boy in between two prefects but they were all very kind.’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) said that the ‘boys were fair-minded and bullying was rare. Only

once was I on the receiving end when as a “new” boy a frog was put down my back by a much older

boy.’ Roy Bull ‘had one or two fights with other boys which was fairly normal.’

80 Report by the Council’s Inspectors of a full inspection held on 14th to 18th March, 1938 at Alleyn’s School

(Dulwich), p13

81 Robert Young, Before I Forget, p83


21

Glimpses of the boys’ characters

In a bizarre note in the minutes of the conference to discuss the Board of Education’s inspection report with the School’s governing body, in a section listing statistics (pupil numbers, catchment area, popularity of school) it recorded ’human material of good calibre’!82

The 1938 inspectors reported that ‘the intellectual value of the boys is generally good’ and

‘They are very well handled in the junior school83

and come up thence with spirits quite unimpaired.

There is much to be said in favour of the training which they then receive which reaches fruition in

the sixth forms, where their approach to their studies is sincere, natural, unforced and individual.’84

These comments are in the section examining the history teaching but there is no reason to suppose

that these conclusions would not have been extended across the curriculum in 1938. Indeed Alleyn’s

master Robert Young declared that ‘all the boys at Alleyn's were astonishingly quickly in the uptake…

I was blessed with clever boys’.85 The inspectors wrote that ‘the boys have a reputation for

gentlemanly bearing and sensible conduct in the neighbourhood.’86

We can also get glimpses of what the Alleyn’s boys in the 1930s were like through the pages of the

Edward Alleyn Magazine which contains original writings as well as reports on activities and reviews

of events and trips.

There is an amusing parody of 1066 & All That in– ‘722 and all that’87. The author ‘Jo. II’ writes that

‘Pericles, who was a Good Man but a Bad Thing; his efforts to make Athens Top City resulted in the

Peleponnesian [sic] War. In this war, Athens was defeated, which was A Very Bad Thing, since she had

been the cause of Civilisation, Literature and the British Empire, whereas the Spartans were

undoubtedly Bad Men.’88

(EAM Jul 31, p628)

As mentioned elsewhere, the regular reports of the Fifty Club shed a light on what the boys were

interested in. A ‘Mr Gotch delighted the Club with a talk on “Learning to fly”, which he kept

admirably clear from the throes of mechanics, dynamics, dithyrambics, and other science-side

82 Report of conference with governing body and Board of Education, 1932, p3

83 The Junior School covered the 9-11 age group.


(Dulwich), p13

85 Young, pp92-3

86 Ibid, p3

871066 and All That: A Memorable History of England, comprising all the parts you can remember, including

103 Good Things, 5 Bad Kings and 2 Genuine Dates is a tongue-in-cheek reworking of the history of England.

Written by WC Sellar and RJ Yeatman and illustrated by John Reynolds, it first appeared serially in Punch

magazine, and was published in book form by Methuen & Co Ltd in 1930.



22

diseases. Everyone became nicely air-minded, and even “airey”-minded judging by some of the

questions which were asked.’89 One of the Club’s lighter debates was on whether ‘raspberry jam

should be pipless’ at which a total of 52 speeches was made90.

In 1930 a party of Alleyn’s boys went to Italy where they were ‘taken for Americans, French,

Russians and lunatics’.91 David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931–39) ‘enjoyed the walking (and climbing) trips

in the Lake District which were organised, I think, by Mr RLW Jones and Mr RHD Young. We stayed in

youth hostels and each day we would walk 10–15 miles!’ On a trip to Derbyshire J.e.f., a witty wag,

wrote that ‘we also did plenty of walking… it was during these walks that some of us made friends

with kind-hearted lorry drivers’. J.e.f. also took time to appreciate the food, ‘the ingenuity with

which bully-beef was disguised as rissoles is to be commended.’92

The Junior School cricket report in 1937 demonstrated the boys’ camaraderie as well as a certain

tongue-in-cheek magnanimity towards its seniors:

‘The cricket season was highly successful. We never chronicle our invariable victories over Senior

School House teams – it would seem too boastful and lacking in the proper spirit of camaraderie,

besides, we really enjoy teaching them how to play, and are quite ready to forego the kudos.’93

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) wrote that ‘what I enjoyed about Alleyn’s was the cheerful

camaraderie, the house-system which gave you a certain interest in other age groups, the wonderful

G&S shows each Christmas, sung with astonishing diction, and compulsory sport.’

Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) remembered that the boys came in

‘all sorts, shapes and sizes, but no “ethnic minorities” except for the Moody family – father a medical

doctor, originally from West Indies. The eldest of the three boys became a doctor and I believe was

the first black commissioned officer in the British Army. He was our “catcher” at the gym display after

we had flown with complete confidence over the vaulting horse (all below the Pavilion on Big Side –

Founder’s Day).’

It wasn’t all blissful in Alleyn’s garden. John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) wrote

‘I wasn’t particularly happy at School. It seems to me that one was given very little choice about what

one did in school; you just did it because that was what your teachers told you to do. You had no

choice about the subject; you had no choice about anything but were told what you had to do. That

was what I found in my experience.’

And Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39) remembered having ‘a caning once for no particular

reason by Mr Franklin. Never quite can understand what that was for, probably for talking out of







23

turn, I answered the question at the wrong time…. I can’t really say I have any particularly bad

memories, most of the time I was perfectly happy there and I made some very good friends – some

of whom I still keep in touch with.’

Other memories stood out for our AOBs. For Mr Beattie it was

‘the smell in the Old Gym on the first day of the term, the floor having been treated with some

preservative during the holiday. Junior School morning prayers (we never heard the word “assembly”)

were held in the Gym, all standing, no sitting, in line by form – Form 1 in front, the smell of the floor

treatment very strong.’

Many of our AOBs, according to Bernard Gildersleve (Brown’s, 1935–40), have a ‘lasting memory’ of

‘the journal which we all had to keep.’ Harold Pettinger explained: ‘the journal for the day was very

important as you had to write about everything you did in school in it and you were quizzed by your

form master about it.’ The journal encouraged competition, self-help and homework and it was

‘completed by form masters every week in which the progress of individual boys was charted in every

subject. The journal had so many entries to match the numbers of weeks in the term and at the end

of each week the boys were placed in order of merit. This was a system designed to keep them on

their toes.’94

Even the Board of Inspection’s 1932 report mentions the boys’ journal stating that ‘all Forms below

the Fifth are required to keep “journals”, records, that is to say, of progress and industry, nature and

amount of homework; these are signed each week by parents.’ The inspectors observed that in the

Junior School the journal enabled ‘the Master in charge’ to secure ‘a precise record of each boy’s

work and progress and is able to bring home and school influences into relation with each other.’95

John McAnuff (Tulley’s, 1936–43) recalled

‘the ritual of taking our lists up or our journals up on a Monday morning. If we were top, we had the

proud privilege of taking them up and they were received by the Head and my abiding memory of

that is as you got up there, you were terribly, sickeningly aware of a wave of stale tobacco hanging in

the atmosphere. Almost every single member of the whole staff lined up on the platform smoked and

some used old pipes that were more odoriferous than cigarettes. I wasn’t conscientiously opposed to

smoking but that’s an abiding memory, I can almost still smell it now. And of course today, I mean,

this would be impossible and I don’t suppose a single member of the staff here smokes now…. so

there’s a big difference for you over the years.

This stench of tobacco smoke is hardly surprising for at the time no fewer than four out five men

smoked, and almost half of women. ‘Boys started early and the brands were high-tar, often untipped

ones, such as the famous Capstan Full Strength, Woodbines and Craven A.’96

Another difference between the school routine before the War and today noticed by Mr Wickes was

the amount of movement around the School:

94 Leinster-Mackay, p4

95 Report of Inspection of Alleyn’s School, Board of Education, 1932, pp8-9

96 The Making of Modern Britain from Queen Victoria to VE Day Marr, p203


24

‘one of things that is very different is that we would have a form and the master would come to us to

teach us and we didn’t wander about between periods. We had two periods in the morning, then

break, then two more, then lunch, and then finally another two in the afternoon, but it seems to me

that every room you look into now there seems to be a few people in it. What they are doing I know

not but it certainly wasn’t like that when I was here; we waited for the master to come in. We had our

desks full of books and we had to have our books out when the next master came in.’

On their desks would be inkstands. Dr McAnuff is still the ‘very proud’ owner of an inkstand.

‘One of my great works made in the wood workshop – made in about 1938 – was a very simple affair,

an inkstand. In the old days you had an inkwell and a slot on the front for your pen and a little handle.

This was produced by me and if you turn it over and look underneath, quite clearly in pencil, you will

see 20/20. It is one of my favourite souvenirs of the School.’

There was an undoubted rush at break times towards the tuck shop. David Alexander (Brading’s,

1933–42) remembered

‘the wonderful sense of release when the bell went for mid-morning break or lunchtime. At the age

of nine or ten I was happy to join the rush to the Dining Hall to buy my penny buns that I stuffed with

a penny bar of Fry’s chocolate cream. If the weather was fine we would play marbles or, in the

autumn, conkers.’97

Although Alleyn’s had a dining room in the basement, Dr Philpott recalled that very few pupils

stayed on for lunch: ‘most of us went home for dinner or took sandwiches or whatever. I went home

because I lived over the road.’

The 1932 Board of Education’s inspectors reported that

‘Dinner is provided at two prices for boys who wish to stay at school, and lighter meals can be

obtained at the Buttery. The need for a better dining room is very obvious.’98

Of the dining room in the basement the LCC inspectors in 1938 recorded that ‘about 100 dine here

daily’.99

The LCC inspectors noted that the Council made a contribution of £8,173 towards the building of the

Buttery in 1936–37 ‘where the boys can get refreshment during the morning break and at tea time

and also eat their cold lunches.’100

The dining room also held the House suppers which were recalled by our guests. ‘The House suppers

were held down there [in the basement] because that’s where the kitchens were…. There weren’t

97 Alexander, p24

98 Inspectors’ Report, 1932, p23


(Dulwich), p1

100Ibid, p1


25

the proper facilities for eating at School except down in the basement and that’s, of course where

the House suppers were held. They weren’t very grand affairs.’

House suppers took place in the Lent Term. According to the Magazine the Lent Term ’is the time for

snowballs, house suppers, athletics and music’101 while the Trinity Term ‘is one of successive

fiestas… the Cricket Cup, of Inspection Day, of Founder’s Day, of Speech Day…’102 Founder’s Days

‘blend into a happy memory’ (John Bate) and in 1935 the Magazine reports wistfully that ‘the fine

afternoon brought its due throng of seductive summer frocks and schoolgirl complexions, and

Founder’s Day was complete.’103 Mr Hawkins remembered that ‘Founder’s Day was always a formal

and special event…. We wore cornflowers in memory of our founder. It was a special day when

parents got the opportunity to see what their offspring were experiencing.’ In 1939 the Magazine

reports that:

‘The laboratories, woodwork shops and art-room were thronged with visitors: and even about the

fields conscientious young hosts were to be discovered admitting visitors to the nooks and crannies of

the Alleyn’s acres.’104

Then – as now – the Founder’s Day weather could be temperamental. In 1933, the jubilee year of

the School’s Foundation, there was a downpour with ‘more than four hours’ rain, often torrential.’105

The Board of Education’s inspectors concluded that:

‘It is abundantly clear that the School takes a wide and lofty view of its duties to its boys; it fosters a

large variety of interests, creating interest where it is lacking and training a feeling of corporate

responsibility; it aims, as a day school, at satisfying every demand, moral, intellectual and physical,

which the all-round development of a boy can reasonably make…. The success of the School is clear

from its achievements in many fields and in the reputation which it enjoys.’106

This pleasing assessment continues to ring true for the Alleyn’s of today. Several generations on, the

School still forges a real sense of community amongst its pupils, their families and former pupils, as

well as equipping pupils with a first class education.


102 Ibid, June 1937, p524


104Ibid, November 1939, p269

105 Ibid, July 1933, p997

106 Inspectors’ Report, 1932, p24


26

THE HEADMASTER: RB HENDERSON

The headmaster for this period was Ralph Bushell Henderson (RBH). He had arrived at Alleyn’s in the

summer of 1920 having been the headmaster at the fairly modest Strand School in Tulse Hill. 107 He

stayed at Alleyn’s as headmaster for the next twenty years, leaving at the outbreak of war. In the

words of Professor Donald Leinster-Mackay (Dutton’s, 1943–50), ‘RBH had an all-pervasive influence

on the school during the two decades before the Second World War.’ 108

To our AOB guests, RBH is principally remembered as ‘a rather austere and remote authority figure’

(Ted Hawkins, Cribb’s, 1933–39). David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) recalled him as being ‘a large

and imposing authority figure who inspired fear rather than respect’. A history master from these

years, Robert Young, gave a detailed description of RBH in his memoire, Before I Forget; prior to his

interview Young was curious

‘to see what sort of man would be capable of running a public school, be Chairman of the Modern

Churchman's Union, combine mathematics with writing books about classical Greece, and pioneer

many of the climbs on my favourite Welsh mountain, Tryfan. He was stockily built and clad in

academic dress with sandy hair receding from a dome that he often covered with a mortarboard. He

wore an Oxford MA hood on top of his gown… He had a laugh like the cackle of a great blackbacked

gull, which everyone learnt to imitate!’109

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) commented that:

‘Henderson had been at Rugby in the 1890s and was determined to shape Alleyn’s in the mould of the

public boarding school. He even wanted his own purpose-built chapel, like a boarding school, but

never got the support for it’.

In Henderson’s address on Speech Day in 1933, he stated proudly: ‘Here, in Alleyn’s School, we have

a hearty admiration for the ideals set up by public schools and are not ashamed to confess it.’110

In a judicious piece of minuting, the conference to discuss the Board of Education inspection in 1932

described RB Henderson as a

‘vigorous man of strong personality. He had done much for the school and raised the standard all

round. He had strong views which were sometimes overstated so that he might at times antagonise

107 Henderson took over as headmaster of Strand School in 1910, and it was he who supervised the move from

the Strand to South London in 1913. Strand School was a boys' grammar school in Tulse Hill. Distinguished in

its heyday for its contribution of young men to the civil service, it finally closed its doors – after failed attempts

by municipal education authorities from the 1950s onwards to turn it into a comprehensive – in 1977. (Keith

Dakin-White, 'History of Strand School, 1875-1913', written for MA in Science Education, Chelsea College,

University of London, 1984)

108 Professor Donald Leinster-Mackay [DLM], Alleyn’s and Rossall Schools: The Second World War, Experience

and Status, Tantalus Press, 2nd

ed, 2006], p4




27

people. He had real character and enthusiasm and sincere belief. The Inspectors differed from him on

many points but with amiability. The HM [Headmaster] deserved very high praise.’111

History master Young explained that ‘A General Inspection was quite a formidable experience for a

school. I remembered how Henderson... had treated the whole thing as only a mild interruption.’112

Even so, the LCC inspectors of 1938 generously concluded that Henderson ‘devotes himself

wholeheartedly to the duties of his office and to the many extraneous activities connected with the

school.’113

Despite his misgivings about RBH, Mr Tilley conceded that, after two decades at the helm,

Henderson ‘made Alleyn’s what it is and we should all be grateful to him’.

Philosophy of RBH – the pursuit of greatness

As Mr Tilley said, Henderson had been a master at Rugby in his earlier days and was inspired by

Thomas Arnold’s ideal of educating Christian gentlemen. Henderson rarely lifts his pen to write in

the Magazine under his name in this period but on one of the few occasions he did, it was to

espouse his ideal of public school utopia:

‘A Public School is one which demands the whole allegiance of each of its members and is able to

offer full opportunity for the exercise of the many-sided loyalty which such a demand calls forth.

Although Eton and Winchester were first in the field, the real movement for the extension of the

ideals of the Public School began when Arnold was appointed Headmaster of Rugby in 1828 just over

a hundred years ago. Under him, the school took over the supervision not only of the scholastic work,

which was a legacy from the Middle Ages, but also of the material and moral welfare of its members.

In other words, the school made itself responsible for body and soul as well as mind.’114

John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) said, ‘I did not like RB Henderson. He always put the School before the

individual needs of his pupils. His attitude was that during the term the boy belonged to the School

and only went home to sleep, to be fed and watered, and to do his homework. This intention was

clearly expressed in the School’s prospectus which stated: ‘The School has full claim on the time of

the boys on all week-days during term.’115 Outside interests were discouraged.’ Leinster-Mackay

noted that when RHD Young (a master who taught history at Alleyn’s from 1935 to 1971) was

interviewed by Henderson for a vacant post at Alleyn’s in the early 1930s, and Young enquired about

111 Report of Conference with Governing Body to discuss Inspection Report of Alleyn’s School, 1932, p2

112 Young, p211


(Dulwich), p4


115 The Board of Education’s Inspection Report on Alleyn’s School, 1932, p23


28

history teaching, he was told quite forcibly by Henderson that ‘it will be boys you will teach here, not

subjects.’ 116

In his A Schoolmaster in the Henderson era, 1935–40, Robert Young wrote further that the School

had been recommended to him ‘as a very good day school that tried to supply almost all the

advantages of a boarding school. This certainly was the case.’ 117

Throughout his time as headmaster, RBH demonstrated a missionary-like zeal to convince the public

that day schools were as worthy as public boarding schools. In the second of two articles defining ‘A

Public School’ RBH wrote:

‘We have already reached the stage when any member of this great School who is willing to make the

sacrifices involved in placing his School first and every other interest second to it, may justly claim

that’ – and at this point he sounds rather like Pinocchio in his quest to become a real boy – ‘in any and

every real sense of the word, he is a Public School boy.’118

A public school?

And to a great extent, Headmaster Pinocchio’s vision for the School was right. Under Henderson’s

leadership, the school did emerge as a real public school. Leinster-Mackay explains how:

‘It was during his [RBH’s] headship that Alleyn’s gained admission to the prestigious Headmasters’

Conference, by dint of his being elected a member in 1929. Alleyn’s headmasters have enjoyed that

privilege ever since. RBH made Alleyn’s a public school not only technically by his membership of the

Conference but in reality by his transformation of the school during his two decades at the helm.’119

In his memoirs120, Mr Alexander concurred: ‘Alleyn’s did ape the style of a public school in its division

into houses, its dress, its prefect system and the wearing of gowns by the staff.’ 121

Henderson’s transformations to the School included lengthening the

‘summer holiday of 1920 to equal the length of that enjoyed by Dulwich College. Perhaps less popular

was the institution of a six-day week (from Monday to Saturday) to replace the more orthodox five-

day week. As seeming part compensation for this authoritarian imposition of an extra day per week,

involving school in the morning and compulsory games in the afternoon, [he] instituted Tuesday and

Thursday house sports afternoons.’

116 DLM, p3

117 Ibid


119 DLM, p2-3

120 David Alexander, Something of a Life, Blackheath, 2007

121 Ibid, p22


29

There was ‘an early finish of school on Friday afternoon for cadet corps activity, followed by

Saturday morning school, followed by Saturday afternoon detention for the unfortunate or

miscreant and games for the rest.’122

A keen supporter of a uniformed cadet corps, Henderson instituted the OTC at Alleyn’s in 1923. Two

years later, an orderly room and armoury were built and in 1931 a rifle range was added. In keeping

with the ambition to achieve public school status, in 1936 a new coat of arms was sought and this

was granted to Alleyn’s School as part of the Foundation of God’s Gift. And if we were not already

sure how confident he felt about Alleyn’s status, in 1936 Henderson decreed that ‘Townley Road’

should never appear on the letterhead of the School ‘as everybody knows where Alleyn’s is.’ 123

The schoolmasters were not free from Henderson’s vision. Leinster-Mackay reported that:

‘his staff were expected to behave as if they were at a boarding school. Henderson conducted a

masters’ discussion society on Sunday evenings “when masters delivered papers, and… all the staff

were expected to attend”.’124

The Board of Education’s inspectors recognised the ‘great demands made on the time of staff’

describing the

‘Masters’ Essay Club which meets for the reading and discussion of papers. Masters also lecture on a

variety of subjects to parts of the School and to voluntary audiences.’125

These inspectors also recognised that under Henderson’s lead, the standard of teaching was

beginning to improve. They wrote:

‘the Head Master has been at pains to appoint men who beside possessing good degrees are capable

by their training and experience at well-known schools and elsewhere to make certain contributions

to the well-being of the School which are no less valuable for being difficult to define. To the large

demands made upon their time and energy outside the classroom the staff responds freely: the large

variety of interests which the School fosters could not be carried on without their very willing co-

operation.’126

The 1938 LCC inspectors also recognised the masters’ contribution to the School, noting that:

122 DLM, p3

123 Chandler, p67

124 DLM, p3

125 Board of Education Inspection Report of Alleyn’s School, 1932, p23. In the LCC Report of 1938, it gave

further details about this club: ‘…the masters’ discussion society, founded in 1922, meets two or three times

during term to hear and discuss a paper by one of its members or by some distinguished visitor on historical,

literary, scientific or theological subjects.’ (p6)

126 Ibid, p5


30

‘In accordance with the tradition of Alleyn’s they give ample service to the ideals of the school and

devote much of their leisure to the clubs and societies which cater for the varied interests of the

pupils.’127

After the war, and at a time when the implications of the 1944 Education Act were being discussed,

Young recalled visiting RBH at Oxford. He explained that

'Rumours were rife that the Governors of the College were attempting to sell Alleyn's to the LCC, who

would then proceed to ruin it or close it down.... He [RBH] regarded the Governors as assassins intent

on murdering his child!'128

Aloof figure

Mr Tilley recalled Henderson as ‘a remote figure never seen around the school and I think he was

remote to his staff too.’ Mr Hawkins remembered him ‘as a rather austere and remote authority

figure. Not once in my time at school did I meet him face-to-face.’ Mr Alexander wrote that:

‘to be summoned to [RBH’s] study was a matter of considerable anxiety, the interview being almost

always brief and ending with an invitation to bend over a chair of suitable height while he reached for

his cane. He may have been a cleric but I do not remember his Christianity being softened by much

that resembled charity... I certainly did not have the least affection for the man, only an apprehension

for his liking for corporal punishment.’129

Henderson’s Christian faith

Mr Alexander mentioned RBH’s Christianity, and this was a central part of his life and philosophy.

After Alleyn’s, Henderson was to become Manchester Reader in Religious Education at University of

Oxford.

On Speech Day in July 1935 Henderson reminded his audience of ‘our aim, of which we were always

conscious, [of] the training of body, mind and spirit to an ever-increasing usefulness to God and

man.’130

Henderson preached a striking sermon on the meaning of Armistice Day and the ideals of the League

of Nations in the College Chapel on 11 November 1934. In it he recalled how the League of Nations

‘arose out of the chaos of the war and out of the sacrifices made in the war’. Nailing his imperial

colours to the mast, he declared that Britain ‘is specially great, for not only by our island position,

but by our world-wide dominion, we are less subject to fear – that sense of insecurity – than other

nations’, he clearly believed the Churches had a responsibility to support the floundering League.

‘And yet if it is known that everyone will move to the assistance of the victim of aggression there will

be no aggressor. The League would gain enormous and ultimately preponderating power if only we

127 LCC Inspection, 1938, p4

128 Young, p195

129 Alexander, p25



31

were brave enough to say that we, at any rate, would obey its commands; the task before the

Churches therefore is to make our rulers realise this. Just as the world is waiting for a lead from our

country, so our own rulers are waiting for a lead from all who profess and call themselves Christians.

Only in this way can we faithfully serve God in all godly quietness. Only in this way can the ideas of

those who died and the ideals for which they died be realised on earth.’131

Henderson held a first-class honours degree in mathematics and science from Oxford University. The

LCC inspectors explained that ‘although his [Henderson’s] degree is in mathematics, his interests

have long been given more to the critical study of the Scriptures, the history of religion and classical

antiquities.’132 Mr Bate remembered that Henderson ‘taught the sixth forms twice a week, once for

Divinity, and once for topics like Mediterranean Civilisation (the subject of his book). He liked

preparing boys for confirmation in the College Chapel.’ The LCC inspectors commented that ‘in many

ways [Henderson] tries to keep in touch with and influence the development of his older pupils’.

They observed that in his Religious Instruction lessons ‘the fixed lessons often develop into a

discussion covering a wide area, as the Headmaster invites the boys to lay all their difficulties before

him.’133 Of those English lessons which Henderson led for the Upper School, the inspectors felt that

the ‘discussions, although, no doubt, of high general value, are not technical lessons in English

language and literature, and must be excluded from the estimate of the time devoted to this

subject.’ 134

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) was one of those boys Mr Bate remembered Henderson

preparing for confirmation: ‘The only time I had contact with [Henderson] was when he ran

confirmation classes for people who were being confirmed, which I attended.’

He was a published and well-respected scholar of the Scriptures – a fact also recognised by the

Board of Education’s inspectors saying the Headmaster ‘has special qualifications both as regards

interest and scholarship for this task [of teaching Scripture], offers very considerable guidance to the

Masters engaged [in teaching Scripture] suggesting lines of treatment and drawing their attention to

books likely to be of use’135. In 1933 he published Four Witnesses136, which, if the review of it in the

Magazine137 is anything to go by, is a dense and esoteric read.

131 Ibid, December 1934, pp119-20


(Dulwich), p4

133 Ibid, p7

134 Ibid, p8

135 Inspection Report, 1932, p9. It is interesting to see how the inspectors reported that ‘it was impossible

during the Inspection even to attempt to survey the teaching of this subject [Scripture]. Enough was seen to

make it clear that it receives fresh and frank treatment.’ Perhaps this was RBH’s intervention?

136 Pub W Heinemann, London 1933 available in microform at www.archive.org/details/MN41408ucmf_7



32

While he was at Alleyn’s, Henderson received the Lambeth Degree of Bachelor of Divinity. This was

‘conferred upon him by the Archbishop of Canterbury in recognition of his work as a Biblical scholar in

general and of his latest work, The Four Witnesses, in particular. This degree has rarely, if ever, been

conferred upon a layman before. It is a relic of the Archbishop’s authority as papal legate (legatus

natus), which has survived the Reformation, and before it can be conferred the sanction of the King

has to be obtained, as at the Reformation the prerogatives of the Pope were taken over by King Henry

VIII.

The degree was conferred in the Library of Lambeth Palace, and the dignity of the surroundings was

entirely in keeping with the short but very impressive ceremony. This was conducted by the

Archbishop, who wore the robes of a Doctor of Divinity, and was attended by his proctors in wig and

gown, and consisted of a few Latin prayers read by the Archbishop, a declaration in English read by a

proctor, and an oath of allegiance to the King taken by the Headmaster.

Among those present at the ceremony were the Bishop of Barking, the Chaplain, Mr GL Heawood,

Headmaster of Bromley County School and formerly Assistant Master at this School, several members

of the staff, and the School Captain.

We should like to take this opportunity to congratulate the Headmaster on this distinction which must

be the more gratifying as it shows appreciation of his work by the highest ecclesiastical authority in

the country.’138

Nor was Four Witnesses, RBH’s only foray into publication: Mr Tilley wrote that:

‘Henderson devised his own school hymn book of 120 hymns with the consequence that many were

learned by heart over the years. These included several Latin hymns including ‘Adeste Fideles [O Come

all ye Faithful] and he would come into assembly each morning, wearing his gown and mortar board

which he would place on the table before beginning the service. The prayers he used were from the

Book of Common Prayer and many like me must know a great many by heart.’

The LCC inspectors thought this service book ‘an excellent collection of hymns with good tunes and

the prayers, psalms and responses.’139 In morning prayers, Mr Hawkins remembered how when

Henderson brought down his mortar board to ‘his desk the whole school rose as one man and the

hymn of the day would be announced.’ The LCC inspectors reported that the daily assembly in the

Great Hall would consist ‘of a hymn, prayers and the reading of a lesson by one of the prefects.’140

Chapel

Henderson lamented the lack of a chapel at Alleyn’s for the duration of his headship. ‘We shall not

be quite perfect [i.e. complete] until we have here a chapel of our very own….’141

138 Ibid, July 1934, p63

139 LCC Report, p8

140 Ibid, pp7-8



33

This desire for a school chapel sometimes prompted criticism from without. There were concerns

that the proposed chapel ‘would interfere with the time-honoured connection with the old College

Chapel. Both the Chairman and the Headmaster were very emphatic in reply that nothing was

further from the thoughts of the promoters than to sever this connection.’142

At the AOBC Annual Dinner in 1935, RBH explained (again) what a public school is, explaining

subsequently in the Magazine that:

‘It is a school which claims and provides for the development of the complete loyalty of every one of

its members. At present, we lacked one vital part – a chapel in which the whole School might come to

worship and sing praises. It was estimated that £7,500 was required for this.’ 143

Wonderfully, one [un-named] AOB came forward there and then at the Dinner offering £2,500

towards the project. It remained only for the next third to be subscribed before the work could

begin: it wasn’t.

In one of those other rare occasions when RBH wrote under his name for the Magazine, he was at

his most peevish as he responded to an anonymous letter – you can almost hear his irritation. It was

from an ‘Old Boy and a Parent’ which ‘launched an attack on me in a local paper in connection with

the Chapel Scheme.’ He goes on ‘he was under a misapprehension, for he supposed that the Chapel

was to be an adjunct of one particular branch of the Christian Church, whereas it is an essential part

of any such scheme that this Chapel shall be interdenominational.’144

Commitment to improving school facilities and buildings in time of depression

But, while a chapel has never been built at Alleyn’s, it is astonishing just how many new buildings

and facilities RBH managed to build on the School’s site in the 1930s. This may have been in

response to the 1932 inspection report which complained that:

‘the school buildings are small for the present number in the School. The Junior School is housed in

temporary huts… The buildings are in some need of redecoration; many of the blackboards are small,

and some of the desks ought to be replaced.’145

In the minutes of the conference between the Board of Education’s inspectors and Alleyn’s

governing body to discuss the inspection report, it noted that the School was ‘congested’ and that

‘temporary huts had become permanent features’.

These criticisms had not been addressed for six years later the LCC inspectors in their report

complained that ‘the main building, though imposing in outward appearance, is not so satisfactory

within’, reporting that the classrooms


143 Ibid, February 1936, pp336-7

144 Ibid, June 1936, pp382-3

145 Inspection Report, 1932, p3


34

‘are unattractive in appearance, just bare education shops. Much of the furniture is antiquated. The

hot water circulating system affects only the corridors, the classes being heated by open fires of

which there are 28 in the school buildings. Apparently some of the flues are defective as smoke

escapes into the rooms; and as the stairs are made of wood and there is a considerable amount of

matchboarding, the consequences of an outbreak of fire might be serious.’146

They also turned their critical eyes to the Junior School buildings:

‘The bungalow buildings in which six of the classes of the junior school are housed are unworthy of

any London school. Heated by closed stoves, they are cold in winter and very hot in summer.

Ventilation is poor; aesthetic influence is entirely lacking. The rooms look what they are – miserable

makeshifts.’147

However, during Henderson’s headmastership he built: the rifle range, orderly room, armoury (all

1931), fives courts (1934), running track and terrace pavilion (1935), the Buttery and Library (1936).

Leinster-Mackay wrote, ‘these additions were made at a time when the country was in a permanent

state of depression or recession,’ adding with understatement, ‘the ‘30s were not the easiest years

for such school expansion.’148

In 1938, the LCC school inspectors cautioned that ‘no more additions of a room or building here or

there should be undertaken. Plainly the main building needs modernising and the bungalows should

be removed.’149

And indeed, accusations of extravagance were made at the time: in relation to the building of the

rifle range, readers of the Magazine were told ‘There may be those who are surprised that we are

erecting a new range at this time of national stringency…’ but the writer goes on to explain how the

contract had been agreed before ‘these times of financial difficulty’ and money for it had been

squirreled away for it from the War Office grant from previous years.150 After the completion of the

running track the headmaster ‘thanked sincerely all those masters and boys who had helped to build

it. It had cost a large sum of money,’ and was obviously at pains to point out that ‘none of which had

come from public funds, although a grant of £50 had been made by the Alleyn Fund.’151

House system

RBH inherited from his predecessor, Francis Collins, the School’s house-system. Henderson

expanded it from six to eight houses which, remarked Leinster-Mackay, ‘gave this south London day

146 LCC Report, 1938, p2

147 Ibid

148 DLM, pp2-3

149 LCC Inspection, p2


151 HM speech, Speech Day, July 1935, reproduced in Magazine, October 1935, p265


35

boys’ school an even greater similarity to the English boarding school.’ In Collins’s obituary152,

mention is made of the house-system he instilled and ‘it is probably the most efficient piece of

machinery of its kind in any day school in England.’ Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937–39) commented

that: ‘our Headmaster Henderson was an extraordinary man having managed to run the school

without having the intermediate layers of heads.’ Leinster-Mackay identified that RBH ‘made the

house masters…. The inner cabal of the School’153 and at the time the school inspectors observed

that the ‘House Masters [were a] valuable part of school organisation’154.

Henderson further consolidated the identity of the houses ‘by an elaborate system of house colours

which were displayed on the front and rear sections of house caps….’, another sign in the

aggrandisement and conversion of ‘Alleyn’s into a public school.’

Prefects

The system of prefects and their role at the School was further developed by RBH:

‘The Prefect system must be a very real thing…. The School must provide for a complete experiment

in self-government; otherwise it is necessarily divided into two parts, masters on the one hand and

boys on the other. The Prefects help to keep the two parts together, in fact they run the School,

although the Masters are always ready to help with their greater experience and more mature

wisdom.’155

Brading’s School Captain David Alexander complained that

‘the prefects were given far too much authority and the Saturday morning ritual beatings meted out

to those who were caught breaking the rules savoured of sadism. It was a system of terror for the

younger boys and I remember with distaste the quaking queue outside the Prefects’ Room by the

bicycle shed and the tears of those who had been beaten for minor infringements such as lateness or

failure to padlock one’s bicycle.’156

Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1933–42) remembered the day when he was made a prefect:

‘Most memorable [for me] was when I was summoned to appear on the stage in Great Hall after

morning prayers, with a couple of others and addressed by RBH: “To you who are made house

prefects a position of trust and authority is given. Use your power for the good of your House and

your school without selfishness and without fear.”’

The LCC inspectors even described this ceremony in their report of 1938:


153 DLM, p4

154 Report of Conference with Governing Body to discuss Inspection Report of Alleyn’s School, 1932, p4

155 HM speech, Speech Day, July 1933, reproduced in Magazine November 1933, p1018

156 Alexander, p22


36

‘To be a prefect is considered a great honour. Promotion to this position of responsibility is signalised

[sic]by a short ceremony, embodying a special prayer and a charge concerned with the duties of the

office, which is administered by the Headmaster and greeted by the applause of the pupils assembled

in the hall.’157


(Dulwich), p3


37

Officer Training Corps (OTC)

Henderson was an enthusiastic supporter of a uniformed Cadet Corps and he instituted the OTC at

Alleyn’s in 1923. In 1931 the Magazine reported that RBH ‘was sure that the part played by the OTC

in the life of Alleyn’s School was of great value, and that its influence was felt in the home in the

form of obedience to discipline.’158

Mr Tilley remembered how the role of master and pupil were reversed when he and Henderson

served alongside each other in the Local Defence Volunteers (LDV) at Maidstone during the

evacuation from London:

‘In my last term at Maidstone, we senior boys were formed into the LDV to combat the threat of

German invasion after Dunkirk and I had to patrol the Pilgrims’ Way in case of parachute attack. This

[the LDV] was later re-named the Home Guard of Dad’s Army fame. My companion over several

nights was none other than RB Henderson. Well, I was a duffer, the laughing stock of the OTC, but

compared with Henderson, I was a warrior! Actually, he was a very nice man who fell in behind me

and let me prattle on and my lasting impression of him is that he was a great schoolmaster of strong

personal convictions.’

Sport

In keeping with the Rugbeian tradition of ‘muscular Christianity’, sport also featured in largely in

RBH’s philosophy of education. He himself was an excellent fives player (it is unsurprising there were

new fives courts built under his tenure). John Shea (Dutton’s, 1935–39) remembered:

‘a fable that the parents of one boy came to see the Headmaster and demanded that their son, who

was one of the few fat kids at school, should be excused from sports. The Head is reputed to have said

to them “If you are not satisfied with the standard of education at our school, I suggest you look for

another establishment and we look for another pupil”.’

As Mr Shea concludes: ‘Don’t mess with the boss!’

Henderson was keen for ‘every possible kind of activity natural to a boy should find its outlet in the

School,’ admitting that ‘it is not easy in a school containing boys from 9 to 19 to provide for every

stage of growth, but I think that next year it will be possible for every boy to have healthy and

violent exercise at least three times a week.’159

RHD Young wrote that, even on the playing field, Henderson’s presence and commitment to

gentlemanly ways was felt:

‘All games were supervised by masters. The headmaster might stop a school match and send the

opponents home if behaviour were unsatisfactory. By RBH’s instructions a penalty was never to be

awarded by a referee in football. Offences punishable by a penalty kick were never to occur. The sort

158 HM speech, Speech Day, July 1931, reproduced in Magazine November 1931, p652

159 HM speech, Speech Day, July 1931, reproduced in Magazine, November 1931, pp1018-9


38

of opponents who needed penalties awarded against them were not to be asked again. The fixture

would be cancelled.’160

This reader can’t help but wonder if this was Henderson scoring an own goal in his pursuit of

instilling ‘fair play’ on the sports fields.

Oxford and Cambridge

Arthur Chandler reported that ‘Henderson worked at the academic side emphasising Oxford and

Cambridge, often to the annoyance of some of the senior staff who were from London University.’161

In previous times, boys wishing to be schooled to the age of 18 had to complete their studies at

Dulwich College but, under Henderson, a sixth-form was created so that Alleyn’s could send its own

scholars to university. At Speech Day in 1934, Henderson explained:

‘The type of education given at Alleyn’s was traditional education handed down from the Middle

Ages, aiming at the preparation of scholars for the University, and the system was almost certainly

the best, even though the majority of boys did go on to the University. It was the best form of

intellectual training devised to equip boys of whatever tasks lay before them…’162

Canon Raven, Canon of Liverpool Cathedral, was the guest of honour at Speech Day 1931 and in his

speech the Magazine reported that he ‘impressed upon parents that two additional years at school

after the first public examinations were never wasted. Two years in the Sixth Form make a great

difference to the life and character of the average boy.’163 In 1932, the Board of Education’s

inspectors was impressed by the size of Alleyn’s sixth form [of 111 boys] stating: ‘the size of the Sixth

Form is as large as that of the Fifth Forms, which is rather unusual,’164 adding that ‘the growth of the

Sixth Form in relation to the total number of the School has been remarkable.’165 They put this down

to ‘a greater realisation of the value of at least some period in the Sixth Form’166.

The same inspectors reported in 1932 that, of the total number of [294] boys who left over the age

of 16 years during the previous three years, ‘the majority of boys naturally pass on to business on

leaving’. They added that in addition

‘one boy has gone to Sandhurst, two to Cranwell, and forty-four boys have gone to Universities, of

these, twenty-three to Oxford and Cambridge.’167

160 DLM, p4-5

161 Chandler, p59



164 Inspection Report, 1932, p2. By 1938, there were 130 pupils in the sixth form (LCC Inspection Report, p4)

165 Ibid, p7

166 Ibid, p8

167 Ibid, p2


39

In 1935 RBH introduced a scheme which linked Alleyn’s to New College, Oxford (Henderson’s own

college), by means of a scholarship permitting one boy from Alleyn’s to go every year to New

College.168 At Speech Day of 1935, Henderson said that there had been:

‘about the same number of open scholarships won during the year – four to Cambridge and two to

Oxford, and, what was very gratifying, there had been cases of boys going to a university and winning

an Exhibition while in residence.’169

At Speech Day the following year, the guest of honour was Dr Hall-Smith ‘secretary of the Thomas

Wall Trustees. We are glad to show him our gratitude, not only for help given to individual boys, but

for the scheme by which we send each year our best boy to New College, Oxford’.170 Throughout

the issues of the Magazine of the 1930s there are reports and references to AOBs who are members

of the Oxford and Cambridge Alleyn Societies: Henderson’s strategy to embed the School in the

university culture was clearly working. Alluding to Oxford’s spires, an ‘Old Boy at Oxford’ writes in

the Magazine of March 1932 that

‘There is only one place in Oxford where one can safely dream and that is the neighbourhood of the

Oxford Alleyn Society.’171

Members of the Cambridge Alleyn Society provided extra men’s voices for second chorus in a

performance of Verdi’s Requiem and also took part in debate of the Fifty Club.172

Mr Bate remembered the unfairness of how ‘it was normal practice for boys going to Oxford or

Cambridge Universities to be awarded an Alleyn Exhibition. I was denied this because I left school

without notice in the summer of 1939 and did not proceed to Emmanuel College directly from

school.’

Commerce

At Speech Day in 1930 Henderson ‘commented upon the number of boys from the School who find

their way into the commercial life of the city….’173 At the dinner of the Oxford Alleyn Society in 1931,

the Magazine reports how the President of the OBs’ Club ‘appreciated the uses of scholarship, yet

168 This was funded by the Thomas Wall Trust. Thomas Wall II (1846-1930), scion of the Wall’s pork butchery

and ice cream business, was a committed philanthropist and pioneer of social advancement, having helped financially almost every educational movement of his day. In setting up the Thomas Wall Trust it was his and the original Trustees’ wishes that the Trust should benefit education and social service. This included aid for both individuals and institutions. Specific mention is made also of support for poor widows and those who, through poverty, are without the means to advance their education. www.thomaswalltrust.org.uk/origins.aspx



171 Ibid, March 1932, p744

172 Ibid, July 1934, p78



40

he was glad that the calls of the business world were so well answered by the School. The country

was run by business men, rather than by scholars.’174

However, an article appears in 1933 defending the type of education Alleyn’s provided in response

to a letter from an OB who dared criticise the curriculum’s lack of commercial subjects. The retort is

written anonymously but it does bear the imprint of RBH’s pen...

‘Commercial Instruction

We have received from an OB a letter urging very strongly that during the last two years at school the

VI Forms should have courses in commercial subjects, in order to fit them for the business life, which

the great majority are bound to enter. He points out at what a disadvantage our boys are placed,

compared, say, with the LCC Central School student, who leaves school at 16 equipped with all the

knowledge requisite for a commercial life.

A great deal of this criticism is true. We do not give our boys instruction in shorthand, book-keeping,

accounting, office routine; and we, therefore, probably turn out a clerk who is a greatly inferior article

to the one mentioned above. But after all, do we exist in order to provide prospective employers with

a well-equipped machine, or is our aim to send a young man out into the world with some knowledge

of the best the world has to offer – in literature, art and science? For that is what our VI Forms are

trying to do. We feel that much can be done during those two years to fit our boys for life generally,

apart from the career they are destined to follow, and that, for one who is about to spend probably a

lifetime on the routine tasks of commercial life, even the first acquaintance with these can be safely

postponed until he leaves school. At the same time, we would point out that there is a VI Form at

Alleyn’s which does endeavour to prepare boys for a business life, in the broader sense, by giving

them some knowledge of the principle on which business is based, but whether they leave from this

or any other VI Form, we are certain that they are far better equipped for business life than they

would be on a diet of business routine.’175

Later in the 1930s, the LCC school inspectors noted that in the sixth form there was ‘a number of the

pupils in one section… [who] do not stay for the examination but leave in order to go into business.

Some adaptation of the organisation to the needs of these pupils seems desirable and would at the

same time have a favourable effect on the work of those who stay the full two-year course.’176

Pastoral care

In the School Archives there is a memorandum from RBH to parents. It gives a very useful insight

into RBH’s thinking as a headmaster and educational psychologist.

Memorandum from the Headmaster to the Parents of Boys who have entered the Middle School,

1935

174 Ibid, July 1931, p620

175 Ibid, July 1933, p974


(Dulwich), p6


41

‘…We want [your son] eventually to become an important member of any society to which he may

belong. We want him to be able to stand on his own feet and, when called upon, to be willing and

able to take the lead. Those who wish to lead must first learn to follow and that will be your son’s part

during the next few years. Boys in the Middle School do not receive so much direct personal direction

from masters as they did in the Junior School. It should be understood that this change is part of the

training in self reliance.

These years are not free from anxiety and much will depend on the right use of them. Between the

ages of about 12 and about 15 great changes are taking place and these have their effects on every

side of a boy’s life. We must expect to see a considerable diminution in boyish enthusiasm – or

maybe, unlooked for changes in the boy’s interests. He may even seem to have become duller and

more listless than he used to be. These are only signs of nature’s shutting down for a period. The boy

is passing through the chrysalis stage and what kind of moth or butterfly emerges at the end of it

depends partly upon the understanding treatment meted out by us older people.

Certain influences are definitely harmful at this stage of a boy’s career and among them must be

placed certain kinds of films and silly, sloppy or morbidly exciting literature. Your son is forbidden by

School rules to enter a picture house during term time (unless you yourself take him there – and it is

much to be hoped that you will not). Exceptions may be – and are – made in favour of films of

educational value. A good rule for books is provided by the print used in their making. Very few really

bad books are likely to be read by your boy if you insist on first-rate print and binding for everything

he reads…

From now onwards, you son should, as a rule, be present at School on every half-holiday during term.

If he is not himself engaged in some School activity, he should return to School – if only for a short

time to maintain contact. Important School matches are played on Saturday afternoons and your son

should attend as a supporter of his School’s team.

Boys need plenty of sleep. Homework should take from one-and-a-half to two hours an evening on

average – hobbies are good and should be encouraged within reason, but the wireless should be used

with caution and discrimination, for its abuse can be a terrible drain on a boy’s time…

Lastly let us remember that we are all working with precisely the same objects in view – to train your

son to take his place as a man among men and to use all his powers to the best advantage not only of

himself but of others.’177

Cinema

Henderson’s bugbear alluded to in the above memo – the cinema – had been raised before. On

Speech Day back in 1931 he spoke of the bad influence of the cinema upon boys in the School saying

‘It was seldom that a film of real value was shown, and for every one such there were many films

which were not fit for the appreciation of boys of the School.’178This followed a similar ruling of the

then Headmaster of Dulwich College, Walter Booth (1928–34). One of his first initiatives had been

‘to place boys on their honour not to go to the cinema in term time, and the press soon showed an

177 Memorandum, 1935, Alleyn's School Archives

178 Report of RBH on Speech Day July 1931, Magazine, November 1931, p652


42

interest in his introduction of such rules to civilise his charges.’179 This ruling seems pretty harsh for

the boys given that the 1930s have been described as the golden age of cinema; the arrival of

‘talking pictures’ in 1929 vastly increased the popularity of the cinema. New ‘picture palaces’

became a feature in most towns and Britain could boast no fewer than 5,000 cinemas in the 1930s,

with 20 million tickets being sold each week.180

A gentle side to RBH

In spite of these rather stringent guidelines and his generally rather cold, aloof exterior, Henderson

was capable of acts of kindness and sensitivity. Denys Carden (Brading’s, 1932–39) remembered how

he took

’part in the Mikado which was a really wonderful experience. I was only the little sword-swinger in it,

but I thoroughly enjoyed it. One time I got there too early and Henderson, the headmaster, saw me

hanging around and he said, “What are you waiting for?” and I told him and he said, “Come on, come

and wait in my study”. And he gave me a book to read whilst I was waiting for the rehearsal and it was

a good experience. He came over as a human being – not as a headmaster or anything. So it was quite

a feather in my cap; to think I’d been in the headmaster’s room and not to be caned or anything but

just to have a chat with him! That was great.’

Robert Young described Henderson’s study in his memoirs; it ‘was a large study, decked with sepia

pictures of rock-climbs in Wales, and he had also constructed a bathroom as part of his equipment –

the only head in London who used to bath in his study, as one HMI [His Majesty’s Inspector] put it to

me later!’181

The Magazine of July 1934 insists that ‘mention must be made of the new radio-gramophone that

has been installed in the Great Hall. This supplies a need that has been growing greater each term; it

has already given us interesting lunch-hour concerts.’ It went on – and perhaps this suggests a slight

sadistic streak in RBH for those who were not fans of high culture – ‘We are to hear it now every

Monday, when the Headmaster is giving a series of talks on Wagner’s Ring of the Niebelungs,

illustrating them with gramophone records.’182

RBH allowed the editors of the Magazine their flights of fancy. Describing the arrival of the

headmaster at School, they wrote

‘…out of the gloom loomed a great bonnet, surmounted by a corrugated radiator, and succeeded by

the handsome coachwork of Daimler, Ltd. Out of the car stepped a man, faultlessly tailored, and into

179 Piggott, p257

180 Pearce, 109

181 Young, p84



43

the swarming hive he stalked. Gradually the hum died down, and at the end of ten minutes there was

peace, perfect peace. The Headmaster had arrived! (With apologies to Philip Guedalla183

).’184

Mr Tilley wrote that Henderson had the humility to play the double bass in the school orchestra,

though he was no musician,’ and John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934–39) added that he ‘became aware of a

warmer and more relaxed “Piggy” [nick-name for RBH by the pupils] since he played the double bass

in the orchestra and I played timpani and spent many hours attending rehearsals.’ Robert Young

who taught history at this time included a beautiful vignette of RBH in the Second Orchestra; he

described that

‘the Second Orchestra consisted of members of the Staff and beginners, who strummed away... James

Taylor sawed on the viola, Eccott blew on the French horn, and Henderson counted bars on the bass,

with his lips moving religiously and with the concentration of a mathematician rather than a

musician!’185

Henderson’s views becoming outdated

As Professor Leinster-Mackay observed, Henderson ‘had well and truly laid the foundations of

Alleyn’s becoming an English public school.’ He returned to the School in 1951 to address the staff

on Divinity and his hero, Arnold’s, tradition at Rugby, but as Robert Young so percipiently observed it

was:

‘A virtually impossible ideal to embody in the ten years after the war, and one no longer wholly

desirable in a country divesting itself of its worldwide responsibilities. The school was becoming more

outward-looking and less cloistered, but the Henderson period was one stage in its growth.’

Was Henderson’s world and school view anachronistic even during his tenure at Alleyn’s? It is

arguable that his Victorian views were already becoming out-of-date by the time he was made

headmaster at Alleyn’s in 1920. Certainly he regurgitated ad infinitum the Imperial view of ‘duty to

the common good’.

Public schools had been breeding future politicians, civil servants both at home and overseas since

the nineteenth century. These public school Old Boys had much in common, in terms of social

background, education, conscious beliefs and unconscious assumptions; they shared a common core

of values and attitudes derived from the British Empire and instilled by their public schools. The

games they tackled on the playing fields

‘not only toughened the body but bred competitiveness, and along with games often went drilling,

shooting and membership of the Officers’ Training Corps…. Boys would also be subject to

183 Philip Guedalla (1889-1944) was a British barrister, and a popular historical and travel writer and

biographer. His wit and epigrams are well known, one example being ‘Even reviewers read a Preface,’ another

being ‘History repeats itself. Historians repeat each other.’


185 Before I Forget, Robert Young, p90


44

propaganda, instilling patriotism, love of the Empire and a disparaging view of foreigners as both

vaguely menacing and comically funny.’186

In the LCC Inspection Report of 1938, they conclude that Alleyn’s was ‘a sound institution’, which

‘in a full programme of work, sport, lectures, music and other activities, [Alleyn’s] attempts to provide

opportunities for education in the broadest sense and for the development amongst the older boys of

initiative and leadership – in other words, to give pupils residing in their own homes the benefits of a

public school training. In that endeavour it is highly successful and the Headmaster and his staff

deserve commendation for the very generous service they render to the school and its ideals.’187

At the end of his review of the year on Speech Day, July 1937, Henderson said:

‘These various activities give some idea of the fullness of our life, and of the efforts we make to cater

for the needs of the growing boy – his mind, his body and spirit. And in so doing, we take a very

serious view of our work, for in the anxious times through which this great democracy – the British

Commonwealth of Nations – is passing, threatened with dangers from without and within, we must

train every member of the School to take part in the political life of the nation, to form right

judgments, to make rapid and accurate decisions, not to fear responsibility, yet not to undertake it

lightly, to keep his engagements – even to his own hindrance – for this must be the foundation of a

society that has any chance of surviving. The School claims to be training boys to do this, not merely

by teaching, but by giving opportunity for practice. Not only the Prefects, but every boy can exercise

some authority and undertake some responsibility – that is why such efforts are being made to have

games for every boy, where these things can be practised. And, inspiring all these activities, there is

the spirit represented by the Chapel, the Ethos that pervades the School. We know that in all

important matters the tone is good and that things are going well.’188

This rather Panglossian view belies what commentators of the time were saying about the public

school system. George Orwell dismissed the system as ‘a training in class prejudice’189 and HG Wells,

noted socialist, wrote that ‘the England of the old Victorian men with its empire and its honours and

its court and its precedences… is all a dead body now’.190

But this is probably to over-simplify the intellectual thinking of the time. During this period, both

viewpoints co-existed: to paraphrase Andrew Marr, it took a long time for Britannia to turn into

Britain. The School’s Fifty Club demonstrated this state of flux in intellectual thinking perfectly when

it debated the motion ‘That this house condemns the public school system’ in December 1930.

‘DV Farmer [proposer] asserted that public school life suppresses a boy’s originality and makes him

narrow-minded. Moreover more importance is attached to sport ability than to intellect. DJ

186 Pearce, p28

187 LCC Inspection Report, p20

188 Magazine, October 1937, p590-1

189 George Orwell: ‘The English Revolution’ first published: The Lion and the Unicorn: Socialism and the English

Genius. Secker & Warburg, London. 19 February, 1941.

190 Quoted in Pearce, p31


45

Underwood [opposer] said that a public school taught a boy to be responsible and self-reliant. He

pointed out that every public school has a tradition which inspires its members to sacrifice

themselves for the community…. LO Jones [opposer’s seconder] pointed out that the public school

system gives two lessons. In the first place it teaches obedience, and then, when this lesson is learnt,

it teaches authority. That this system has not failed was shown by the last war.’

Perhaps with an eye to self-preservation, the motion was defeated by four votes to 19.191 Anthony

Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) concluded that ‘Alleyn’s was never going to produce the “public school

type.” It would allow individuals to flourish, exercise imagination and have fun.’

However, there were signs that Henderson was looking beyond the school gates and could see the

changes that lay ahead. A year after reporting, Pangloss-like, the best of all possible worlds, he spoke

about:

‘the effect produced on the school by the events in the world around. “Everything,” he said, “has a

reflex action on our school life. For example, at the present moment the many discussions taking

place in the word on the theories of government have had the effect of making us more politically

conscious. We are continually asking ourselves what we mean by freedom, democracy and

constitutional government. This has had a double effect; first, our teaching has become more political

– not party politics of course, but the study of such political problems as dictatorships and tyranny;

secondly, we have been led to revise our ideas of school government in order to train boys to take

their place in a great democracy. We have encouraged every boy to take an active part in the life of

our community by learning to obey and by learning to command, to think individually yet to act in co-

operation with others”.’192

Henderson’s legacy

As we have seen, Henderson’s ambitious vision was to provide a day school worthy of public school

status. Defending this vision he said:

‘it may still be asked, however, whether a Day School in London can really offer enough facilities in

the way of games and clubs to absorb the energy of all its members. The answer is being supplied;

when the running track is finished, and the new fives courts in action, it will be possible for every boy

in the School to be changed for organised games on every half-holiday…. an important stage of the

road has been reached when everyone makes some sort of contact with the School life on every day,

morning and afternoon, of the term.’193

Mr Alexander remembered that ‘Alleyn’s School was advertised in its prospectus as “a day school

run on boarding school lines” – a somewhat pretentious title hoping to attract parents who could

not actually afford to send their children to public boarding schools….’194




194 Alexander, p22


46

But where is the harm in that? If you listen hard enough, you may hear some rumbles of social

revolution coming from Henderson. Addressing the critics of public schools he states:

‘the chief objection to the Public School, confining the term for the moment to boarding schools, is

that it is too expensive. Most other defects spring from that cause. Thus component parts tend

inevitably to be drawn from the same social stratum [my emphasis]. I don’t know whether or how

that defect will be rectified, for I don’t know how the costs could be reduced.’

Defending the Headmaster’s draconian ban on the boys visiting the cinema, the Magazine editors

appealed to parents explaining that

‘If Alleyn’s is to share the advantages enjoyed by Public Schools which are also boarding schools, and

yet still remain a day school, certain restrictions must be placed upon the liberty of boys after they

have left the school buildings. By this means Alleyn’s will enjoy the best of both types of Public

School.’195

By 1933 Henderson well and truly lays out his vision:

‘But it is just this matter of cost that gives Alleyn’s School its opportunity – we are making a Public

School, but the costs are kept low because it is cheaper by not being a boarding school.’196

Ergo, he was remaining true to the School’s original benefactor by making an education of ‘Godliness

and good learning’ possible for those suburban day boys so sneered at by boarding schools.

The apparent departure from Edward Alleyn’s original intentions was raised in a somewhat strident

and public manner at the AOB Annual Dinner in 1937. The dinner gave Henderson the perfect

opportunity to be clear about how he saw Alleyn’s to be a school which was open to all, regardless

of income. At the dinner, the Club’s chairman, Stephen H Payne made:

‘forthright declarations… on the intentions of the Founder and his emphasis on the extent to which

those beneficient intentions, which envisaged the education of poor boys, had been departed from,

came like thunder. He had been waiting 54 years to say what he had to say… Then came his [Payne’s]

review of the scheme of 1883. This had abolished the system of Foundationers, the twelve poor boys,

usually orphans, who were fed, boarded, clothed and educated in accordance with the Founder’s

intentions. Five out of the last 12 were present tonight and their record was a proud justification of

the system. Every one of them had made good through the opportunities with which they had been

provided. With a new scheme imminent it was only right to declare that Edward Alleyn’s intentions

were that the income from his endowment should be devoted to the education of the deserving boys

of poor and worthy parents. He did not leave his money for the rich. His wishes were wise and

practical and are deserving of consideration. He hoped that among his hearers were some who would

be able and willing when the re-allotment of Foundation funds was again under review to secure a

more generous treatment of Alleyn’s School, a more faithful interpretation of the wishes of our

Founder.’


196 RBH at Speech Day in July as reported by the Magazine, November 1933


47

The Magazine report continued its gasping report of proceedings:

‘Stephen Payne’s outburst drew a defence [from the HM] of the Public School system, which was

doing so much for England, the Empire and the World. It could not, probably, have arisen in any other

way than through the boarding schools… It is the work of the present century to extend the good

things of the Public School system to the schools for poorer scholars, and in this great work Alleyn’s

is not only playing a great part, it is in the lead [my emphasis].’197

Thus, when under such open attack before key supporters of the School [the Old Boys], RBH

responded in a manner worthy of the most seasoned 21st-century spin doctor turning this criticism

to Alleyn’s advantage. He explicitly spells out Alleyn’s ‘great work’ of making possible an excellent

education for boys from poorer backgrounds. It is this ‘great work’ to which Alleyn’s School remains

committed today.

197 Magazine, February 1938, p43-44


48

PRIVILEGE

One of the great fixations of British society in the modern era has been the actual and perceived

stratification of our society and the struggles of each ‘class’ either to define itself or to break down

the barriers between social and educational groupings. The role of public and independent schools

then, as now, are at the centre of this debate and our AOBs from the 1930s had some very

interesting thoughts about privilege and the place of the Alleyn’s boys in the scheme of things.

We asked our visitors whether they felt privileged to be at Alleyn’s School. John McAnuff (Tulley’s,

1936–43) admitted that

‘…I did feel privileged and over-awed by partly the traditions of the School, which were high and have

become that much higher since. It was also to do with the figures in the School, the staff – some of

them to the point of even being intimidating.’

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) confessed that ‘I certainly regarded it as a privilege to be at Alleyn’s

and was pained in my first job as office boy to meet people who had never heard of it and were

unimpressed.’

Norman Spurdens (Tulley’s, 1933–40) said

‘I most certainly feel very privileged to have been a pupil at Alleyn’s. It was – and happily remains – a

great school. I think that the Latin words of the Junior School Song: “Cara Scholar quam amamus – In

hac scholar educamus – Laete te nos celebramus – Scholar Alleynsis” can and should be applied to

Alleyn’s as a whole. The words were written by our junior school master, Mr Dickie Rudd.’

While Edward Wickes (Brown’s, 1933–39) felt

‘one didn’t realise at the time that one was privileged. You were mixing with hundreds of other boys; I

don’t think any of them felt privileged to be there. Since I’ve gone through life I have realised that it

was a great privilege to be here and probably as time has gone on and the School has gone up in

estimation and value it’s even more of a privilege to be here.’

In truth, the Alleyn’s school boys came from a variety of backgrounds, not all of them comfortable

middle-class professional ones. While some were sons of civil servants, engineers and accountants,

others were the sons of commercial travellers, railway porters and bus drivers.198 John Shea

(Dutton’s, 1935–39) ‘lived in Forest Hill in half of a small duplex – gas lights, outside privy etc. rent of

such properties was about 16 shillings per week.’ By contrast, John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39):

‘lived with my mother and two brothers at 1 Ildersley Grove [Mr Bate’s father died before he started

school at DCPS in 1928]. The house still exists; it was built in 1877, was detached and had four

bedrooms. It was leasehold, the land belonging to the Dulwich College Estates.’

198 See Appendix for a list of parents’ professions drawn from the Dutton’s Register book for the 1930s.


49

The LCC inspectors of 1938 complimented Alleyn’s on its relations with elementary schools, writing

that ‘these continue to be excellent and head teachers of neighbouring schools are proud to see

their pupils win scholarships to Alleyn’s.’199 The inspectors broke down where pupils came from:

‘414 have come from elementary schools, 251 of them with some form of special place, namely 174

Junior County Scholarships, 25 Supplementary and 52 Intermediate County Scholarships. Of these

special place holders 7 pay full fees, 43 part fees and the remaining 201 have free education.’200

The reports of Founder’s Days in the 1930s begin to mention the presence of cars – a luxury item

which was by no means affordable by every family at that time. In 1934 the Founder’s Day reporters

commented on how ‘…the imposing string of cars, stretching from St Barnabas Church to the houses

in Townley Road, at the other extremity of the Upper Field, was commented on by more than one

Old Boy.’201

Charitable causes

Throughout the decade there are reports of the School learning about and supporting various

charitable endeavours. For example, the boys heard lectures on Dr Barnardo’s Homes ‘emphasising

the fact that the homes give all their children an excellent start in life’ and on housing which

revealed ‘the terrible conditions in the slums.’202 There are frequent mentions of the Alleyn’s School

bed at King’s College Hospital for which the School raised funds – the proceeds from Founder’s Day

cornflower sales were shared between it and the Alleyn Benevolent Fund.

Duke of York camps

One recurring event which was reported in the Magazine – but not mentioned at all by our visiting

AOBs or contributors – was the annual Duke of York Camp.

In 1919 the then Prince Albert (later to become George VI) became president of the Industrial

Welfare Society. He demonstrated a genuine concern for the people’s problems touring coal mines,

factories and rail yards; in doing so he had acquired the nickname of the ‘Industrial Prince.’ In 1920

Prince Albert was made Duke of York by George V and in 1921 he founded the Duke of York’s camp

to promote better relations between boys of different class backgrounds. Through these popular

camps the Duke aimed to bring boys together to enjoy outdoor life.

There were hundreds of camps, not only in England, but in the Dominions as well. The Duke made a

point of attending the camps himself as often as he could – even after his coronation. The aim of the

camps was to nip class consciousness in the bud.

199Report by the Council’s Inspectors of a full inspection held on 14th to 18th March, 1938 at Alleyn’s School

(Dulwich), p7

200 Ibid, p2




50

The Duke clearly knew the power of his celebrity and that of others. At the camp of 1929, the

Alleyn’s Duke of York Camp reporter writes that the Duke

’spent the whole of Thursday in camp, accompanied both by academic and by industrial celebrities…

On the Sunday evening Sir Henry Seagrave203

[sic] gave us a splendid lecture on “Speed,” arriving, as

befits such a “monarch of the road” (again vide “Daily Mail”), in a truly magnificent car.’204

Our reporter gives details of an interesting ploy to keep speeches to a minimum: ‘To prevent long

speeches a gun was fired when a man had spoken for two minutes. We think this excellent system

might well be utilised at House Suppers and the like.’

‘JL’ paints a full picture of the 1930’s camp’s activities:

‘The Camp consists of 200 boys from schools represented on the Headmasters’ Conference, and 200

various firms. The boys are between the ages of 17 and 19, and the real purpose of the camp is to

establish contact between the classes from which they are drawn…. You simply have 400 young

fellows under canvas for a week, living like kings and having a good holiday…. The games are

compulsory, and are designed to prevent the athlete and games player having a big advantage over

everybody else… There is still time for talking, however, and when the first shyness had evaporated

we learnt quite a considerable amount about each other’s occupations… One leaves the camp with a

much better understanding of what the other fellow has to put up with, and I am quite sure that

some of the other members of the camp were surprised to learn that a public school boy is not always

wealthy, that he, and more so his parents, may be struggling extremely hard to keep him at school.

One of the surprising things about the camp was the lack of distinction of class. About 50 to 100 were

very obviously public school boys, and about the same number appeared to be working lads, but the

remainder might have been anything.’205

The reporter, identified only as ‘Denis’, of the 1934 camp remarked that 400 boys spent ‘a week

doing apparently stupid things like carrying bags of pebbles and missing a target with tennis balls,’ to

prove that

‘people who have been to Public Schools and people who haven’t get on perfectly well and happily

together without forming federations and committees and appointing deputies and emissaries to

interview each other.’206

In 1935, we get a description of the Duke himself:

‘The week’s “high spot” was the arrival of our Royal Host. He was greeted with cheers of genuine

affection from more than 400 throats, and smilingly showed his appreciation of the tribute. He shared

203 Sir Henry O’Neal de Hane Segrave was famous for setting three land speed records and the water speed

record. He was killed the following year (1930) attempting to break the world’s water speed record on Lake

Windermere.


205 Ibid, November 1931, pp682-3

206 Ibid, December 1934, pp135-6


51

our simple meals, laughed as heartily as any at the antics of our amateur entertainers, dodged the

jellyfish with us in Southwold’s sea, and I am sure enjoyed the camp as well as the rest of us.’207

And in 1938, in what was to be the penultimate Duke of York’s Camp, the reviewer acknowledged

that the camps proved

‘that the boy who comes from the Pit and the factory is just as good a fellow as the boy from the

Public School. Some of us are apt to look down on those who work with their hands, but if ever we did

have that attitude, this camp has dispelled it for ever. We have to thank His Majesty for showing us

the fellow from the industrial centre is as good an Englishman as any.’208

Funding an Alleyn's School education

We asked our guests how their places at Alleyn’s were funded. They were a fairly balanced mix of

scholarship boys and private fee-payers. Mr Bate explained:

‘As a direct grant school, half the pupils were scholarship boys from local elementary schools, the

other half were fee-payers. My mother paid for me. I think the fees were £9 per term. In the sixth

form, I had an Intermediate County Scholarship from LCC (London County Council) which meant no

fees and a £9 per term living allowance, which made a real difference.’

Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–39) remembered that ‘the fees when I came to the school in 1933

were £22 a year’. At the reunion, Harold Pettinger (Roper’s, 1932–38) and Charles Jessup (Roper’s,

1935–40) recalled that:

Harold Pettinger: My father paid £15 per term.

Charles Jessup: …which was lots of money then.

Harold Pettinger: The average wage then was £5 per week.

By 1938, the fees were ‘21 guineas per annum with an entrance fee of one pound’.209

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) described how:

‘To [my father’s] amazement I won a London County junior scholarship which secured a place at the

School where I presented myself mid-September and, approaching my 11th

birthday, to join 3B in the

Junior School under the headship of Mr A Spring.’

Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) won a ‘Junior County Scholarship (LCC),’ which was followed by

a ‘Senior County Scholarship up to matriculation. [For] my two years in the sixth form, [my fees were

paid for] by two uncles.’ John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934–39) also won ‘an LCC scholarship but could

not use it due to the “means test” – my parents paid the fees’. Dr McAnuff remembered:


208 Ibid, October 1938, pp137-9


(Dulwich), p2


52

‘I think [the decision to send me here] seemed to come naturally to my parents that if they could

afford to – because heaven knows about money in those days – they would send me here because

they had heard so much good about the School.

There is a lot of fascinating information about admissions, fees and scholarships in the Board of

Education’s inspection report on Alleyn’s of 1932.

‘It is understood that about half the number of applicants in any year can be admitted, and that there

are also more applications from holders of Junior School County Scholarships than can be entertained.

On 31 March, 1931, nine boys living in Kent attended the School, the remainder being drawn from

various districts in London. At the time of the Inspection 50 per cent of the boys previously attended

Public Elementary Schools; this figure shows a slight decrease (five per cent) as compared with that of

ten years ago, when the School was last inspected by the Board of Education. The School has recently

drawn upon certain private schools in the neighbourhood from which it hitherto has drawn no

boys.’210

The inspectors reported that

‘the School admits 25 per cent to 30 per cent of the previous year’s total admissions as Free Place

pupils each year. These places are filled by holders of the Junior County Scholarships awarded by the

Local Authority. There are now no Foundation Scholarships. At present 145 Junior, 40 Supplementary,

83 Intermediate Scholarships are held in the School.’211

Whilst the admissions from boys from Public Elementary Schools was decreasing slightly at this time,

in the sixth form there was an increase in the number of pupils receiving some form of financial

assistance from when they started their education at Alleyn’s. The sixth form had 111 boys in it, of

whom ‘51 entered the School with Scholarships, 35 entered as fee payers but now hold Intermediate

Scholarships, 25 still pay fees. The last two groups have recently shown a marked tendency to

increase.’212

Alleyn’s Association Fund

As we have seen, RBH implemented an ambitious building programme to equip Alleyn’s to be a

public school. On Founder’s Day in 1930 it was announced that the money combined from the

Foundation, the Board of Education, the London County Council, and the School fees were not

enough to fund the School and its future plans. The School brought the parents and the Old Boys

together to consider a fundraising scheme.

‘A large sum had to be provided from rates and taxes to make up the deficiency between the

expenditure on the one hand and the income, consisting of School Fees and the grants from the

Governors, on the other. He [chairman, Mr Woolrich, President , AOBC] thought that the local

authorities and the Board were right in restricting grants-in-aid to bare necessities, but further sums

must be provided if the present and succeeding generations of boys were to make the fullest use of


211 Ibid, p3

212 Ibid, p2


53

their opportunities, and it was incumbent on those who had enjoyed the privileges of the Foundation

in times past to show their gratitude by assisting their successors. He felt sure that a Fund could be

raised by donations and annual subscriptions which would enable great things to be done for the

School in the future.’213

A year later, the Old Boys were appealed to in the name of Edward Alleyn:

‘it is hoped that each one of us who has benefited from the Foundation will… catch some spark of the

same flame of public service which lighted our Founder: indeed we have not only an example to

follow but a debt to pay.’214

And thus a rather clumsily titled ‘Voluntary Sustentation Fund’ was launched, quickly acquiring a

new name, the Alleyn’s Association Fund (AAF). The committee of the Fund, in a nod to Henderson’s

highest wish, wrote that it will

‘endeavour to build up a fund from which one day we may see such large matters as a Swimming Bath

and a Chapel of our very own emerge as concrete evidence of our efforts.’215

Alleyn’s pressing need for funds to improve its facilities was in stark contrast with the wealth

enjoyed by Dulwich College which at this time received the lion’s share of the distributions from the

Dulwich Estate216. In the 1930s, the College built three new important buildings (including the cricket

pavilion). The College also had inaugurated its Commissariat ‘an ambitious commercial operation’

and its ‘considerable profits contributed to building schemes.’217 Alleyn’s School shop contributed its

profits to the buildings programmes (such as the running track and the new fives courts) but these

were of a much lower order. The 1932 Board of Education Inspection Report acknowledged the

funding provided by two

‘important institutions at the School… the Commissariat, a shop which sells most things a boy can

want at school, and the Buttery. Their importance lies not only in their supplying a need, but also in

their furnishing of funds for the support of other school institutions.’218


214 Ibid, March 1931, p540

215 Ibid, March 1931, p539

216 The LCC Inspection Report noted that Alleyn’s received ‘about £1,859 per annum’ from ‘the Foundation of

Alleyn’s College of God’s Gift’. The rest of the School’s income (1936-37) ‘is derived from fees, nearly £10,000,

and Council’s grant, inclusive of fees for scholars, £18,225.’ An interesting observation made by the inspectors

was that ‘it is surely obvious that it would be better if a school of this size and importance had its own

Governors to look after its interests and take a personal pride and care in its development. Only one other

aided school in the London area is in the same anomalous position. If the scheme of the Foundation does not

allow of a separate board, there seems no reason why a sub-committee should not be appointed to deal with

Alleyn’s (LCC Report, p2). Alleyn’s finally acquired its own, separate Board of Governors in 1995, 57 years later.

217 Dulwich College, Jan Piggott, p250



54

The 1938 LCC inspectors reported that the school shop was ‘where pupils can procure everything

they need from clothes to drawing pins. This shop is conducted by a whole-time manager and the

profits are devoted to different school funds and activities.’219

The AAF committee over time became creative in its fundraising efforts. It implemented ‘a scheme

for paying contributions to the Fund along with School Fees; the amounts received through this

channel form about a quarter of the total income.’220 The committee also offered (somewhat

caustically) that

‘If your memory is frail, help it by sending the subscription on your birthday. If it is so frail that you do

not always remember your birthday, the Treasurer will be happy to send you a birthday card as a

reminder.’221

Unsurprisingly, the Edward Alleyn Magazine rattled the Alleyn’s Association Fund collecting tin at

every opportunity:

‘The School has multifarious requirements lying outside the scope of the grants which supply its

bread-and-butter needs and the Fund exists as a means whereby friends of the School can assist in

providing these requirements. In other words the Fund exists to vary a diet of jam yesterday and jam

tomorrow by supplying a modicum of jam today.’222

By the close of the decade some jam was supplied. The Attfield Bequest (for pupils studying music at

university) and AOB Mr Woolrich’s bursaries were both established in 1939. Mr Woolrich, the

original chairman of the Alleyn’s Association Fund, established ‘three bursaries of £12 a year…

tenable at Alleyn’s’.223

Where did our AOBs live and how did they travel to School?

These days Alleyn’s pupils are drawn from all over south London and beyond, from Clapham to

Blackheath, and from Southwark to Bromley. Our 1930s guests lived much closer to the School in

Dulwich itself or in nearby Camberwell, Brixton, Clapham, Nunhead, Peckham and Sydenham. Some

however, did have long journeys to Townley Road – poor Laurence Garrett (Junior School, 1936–40)

‘moved away to Epsom after the first twelve months [and] so used to come in on the train and then

walk.’

In the appendix of the 1932 Board of Education’s inspection report it recorded the areas from where

the boys were drawn in 1930–31 – 99% were from London, 1% from Kent224. In the 1938 LCC

219 LCC Inspection Report, 1938, p1



222 Magazine February 1939, p169


224 Board of Education Inspection Report into Alleyn’s School, 1932, p25


55

Inspection Report it recorded that

‘The school is largely local and provides a good secondary education for middle class families of south-

east London. Of the present pupils, 365 come from Camberwell, 119 from Lambeth, 99 from

Lewisham and 58 from Wandsworth. Ex-county pupils from Kent and Surrey compose a contingent of

48 and 7 from other London boroughs make up the total.’225

Mr Hawkins’s recalled that his

‘parents moved from Lordship Lane in East Dulwich in 1931 to 65 Sydenham Hill Road (later re-named

Kirkdale) on the slopes of Sydenham Hill. We lived in a row of five substantial post-war houses in

which there were no fewer than three Alleyn’s boys: the Varrall brothers and Randal Harding. I

remained at Heber Road School until the summer of 1933 when it was my father’s ambition to send

me to Alleyn’s.’

They came to and from School in a variety of ways. Mr Shea rode his bicycle ‘in good weather (and frequently in bad) and used the bus and tram (they were still rolling in those days) in not so good weather.’ Mr Beattie came in from Sydenham Hill on the ‘tram from Lordship Lane Railway Station (which was by the end of Wood Vale) to Townley Road.’ Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) ‘lived in Camberwell and came to school by No 58 tram up Lordship Lane. Later I lived in Wood Vale, off Lordship Lane, and walked to school.’ In remembering the School Captain Jackie Laughlin, Leslie Gosling (Brown’s, 1927–33) revealed some

little-known local historical details:

‘…our families were friends for many years. He lived at what was then known as Laughlin’s Farm. It

was opposite Horniman Gardens. They kept horses, cows and pigs. It may not be generally known that

the site is an old plague pit, a mass burial ground for corpses from the Great Plague, and to be an

open space for all time. Another such pit was on the right side of Dog Kennel Hill going towards

London. It was however developed by the LCC in the late Twenties with large blocks of flats to re-

house families from Old Kent Road, New Kent Road, Walworth Road and others, then classified as

slum areas. These slums are now very fashionable Georgian properties, making very high prices.’

Dulwich’s residents and the protective Dulwich Estate ‘successfully resisted proposed tramways and

various omnibus routes between the Wars; servants’ – and presumably schoolboys – ‘were expected

to walk to the boundaries of the Village.’226 Trams were abolished throughout London in 1952 and

the tram lines removed.

Many of the boys walked or biked. Mr Bate ‘cycled to school along Gallery Road’ from his home in

Ildersley Grove. David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) had a particularly gruesome experience on his

way to School one day. He lived at Sunray Avenue and has

‘a vivid recollection of making my way through a pea-souper of a fog past north Dulwich Station and

up East Dulwich Grove. I could hardly see across the pavement and the buses crawled along preceded

by the conductor shining a torch at the kerb. People and vehicles loomed up through the swirling


(Dulwich), p2

226 Piggott, p251


56

murk and all sounds were blanketed and curiously distorted in the yellow choking cloud. It was on

that journey that I saw my first fatality: a boy knocked from his bicycle and with his brains spilt in the

gutter where his head had struck the granite kerb.’227

Others took the bus, the service numbers of which (12 and 37) still run today. Mr Hawkins:

‘travelled to school firstly by No 12 bus to The Plough, then by bike (downhill to school but a real

uphill pedal going home) until at 14 I switched to the 58 tram catching it at Horniman’s Museum,

Forest Hill. The attraction of this was the JAGS girls from Sydenham who sat on the upper deck, as we

boys did. An unspoken law was that at the Townley Road stop the girls and boys must walk to their

schools on separate sides of the road.’

For those who lived close by, walking was the easiest option. Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937–39)

‘lived round the corner, 61 Calton Avenue. I was probably one of the boys, no girls of course then,

who was nearest to the School though I did have to run and rush to get in on time on a number of

occasions.’

Kenneth Hovey (Cribb’s, 1933–39) lived in Sydenham and he ‘had to use public transport, the bus or

the tram. Occasionally my father, as a special treat, would take me to school on his way to work.’

Cars were making their appearance in Dulwich – borne witness by the comments in the Magazine

about those belonging to Founder’s Day visitors.228 Dr McAnuff, who lived in Clapham,

‘got here courtesy of my father who was the fortunate owner of a car and there were not too many

car owners and drivers in those days, I’m talking of the mid-thirties. He nobly got up that much earlier

and drove me over here. I must have been one of the very few who had that privilege, but then I

graduated to getting here under my own steam and the 37 bus was very useful, as it still is.’

In 1978, two years after Alleyn’s became fully co-educational, the School began a coach service ‘to

encourage application for places from a wider area’.229 The coach service has now extended, serving

all three Foundation Schools, with 24 routes ferrying pupils from Central London, Bromley,

Wandsworth and Greenwich.

227 Alexander, p23

228 ‘The cars filled the road and sprawled out into Calton Avenue’ (Magazine, October 1936, p426)

229 Chandler, p111


57

SCHOOL CURRICULUM AND SUBJECTS

As we have seen, Henderson’s vision for Alleyn's was to emulate the education that was delivered by

public schools. The 1932 Board of Education’s inspectors concluded that ‘the School was a good

school which set itself high ideals and wide aims and succeeded in great measure in realising

these.’230

They went into more detail:

‘The general standard of work in the Main School is good. The quality of the work in the chief subjects

may be summed up thus: in English efficient work is being done with much that is pleasing though

nothing impressive: History is taught on carefully considered lines: Modern languages are sound, and

Latin, if rather unsound in the earlier stages, is pulled together very efficiently later. In Mathematics

the scope of the work is rather narrower than at the last Inspection [in May, 1922], but at least as

regards examination results is better than the qualifications of some of the staff would suggest. And

in Science, too, the work of the Main School is good. In fact in general the work of the Main School

reaches a very satisfactory standard and this verdict is amply borne out by recent examination

results.’231

However, John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) wrote that:

‘I cannot recall there being much studying for the love of learning. The individual had no choice. The

curriculum was fixed until an allocation was made to arts or sciences… Divinity was taught by Houses

on Mondays after House meetings.’

Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–39) further explained:

‘You were divided into the A and the B stream after the second form. A was classics and languages, B

was sciences. I was put into sciences and I enjoyed it very much: that was my forte, you might say.

Maths and algebra (I used to love algebra), physics, chemistry and applied maths. As to school in

general, you just did as you were told. There was no choice about whether you went into the A

stream or the B stream.’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) remembered this division:

‘In my day Alleyn’s was divided into the arts and science sides and in due course you were allocated

to one or the other. I went to science, continued with Latin, English lit and all forms of maths and

gained chemistry, physics, mechanics and in the 5th

form sat the General Schools’ Certificate for which

we read Charles Reade’s (now virtually unknown) Cloister and the Hearth.232

English and mathematics

were my favourites. Latin was my least but I have, in later life, never regretted six years of it!’

230 Report of Board of Education Inspectors’ Conference with Governing Body, 28 October, 1932, p5

231 Report of Inspection of Alleyn’s School, Dulwich, Camberwell, London, 1932, p7

232 The Cloister and the Hearth (1861) is a historical novel set in the 15th Century which relates the story

revolving about the travels of a young scribe and illuminator, Gerard Eliassoen, through several European

countries. Its main theme is the struggle between man's obligations to family and to Church.


58

According to the Board of Education’s Inspection Report of 1932, there were 783 boys at Alleyn’s, of

whom 200 were in the Junior School, and 111 in the sixth form. Boys started Alleyn’s at the age of

nine and the average leaving age was 17 years, four months. The inspectors commented that the

School ‘succeeds in keeping its boys, and the figures relating to school life are very good’. 233 By

1937, the average leaving age was 17 years234 and the school roll had fallen to 698235, obviously to

the inspectors’ relief as at ‘the date of the last inspection by the Board of Education, it was 780, a

number certainly too great for the accommodation provided.’236 This fall in numbers was a trend felt

by all public schools during the financially straitened 1930s. However, the LCC inspectors further

recommended that a figure of 550 pupils would be ideal for the premises. The inspectors accounted

the fall in numbers to

‘…the decline in the number of fee-payers in this part of London, the somewhat high fee charged here

[of 21 guineas per annum with an entrance fee of one pound], the accommodation available in the

neighbouring secondary schools and the probable effect of the opening of the new school in Forest

Hill.’ 237

Unlike today – where pupils spend a year at a time in each class – boys were ‘promoted’ through the

School according to the progress they made. The Board of Education’s inspectors estimated that

‘progress from the lowest Form of the Main School to the end of the First Examination year will

occupy four years through a series of seven Forms; if promotion is more frequent, the time will be

less but the number of Forms covered will be the same.’238

Boys’ promotions were decided upon by a committee of Masters under the chairmanship of the

Second Master. At the time of the 1938 inspection, this system of progress through the school by

promotion was about to be abandoned, much to the relief of the LCC inspectors:

‘It is satisfactory to know that the system of half-yearly promotions… which has obtained at Alleyn’s

for some years, is now to be abolished in favour of annual promotions.’239

The inspectors took every opportunity throughout their report to condemn the system of

promotions: ‘The first obvious weakness of this organisation is the system of half-yearly promotions,

which gives a boy nine changes of class in his progress through the main school’. The inspectors had

high hopes that once the change was made, the ‘balance of the syllabus in the main school will be

233Board of Education Inspection, 1932, p2


(Dulwich), p3

235Ibid, p2

236 Ibid, p1

237 Ibid, p5; in 1932 the fees had been £18 per annum (Board of Education Inspection Report, 1932, p24)

238 Board of Education Inspection, 1932, p6

239 LCC Inspection, 1938, p20


59

adjusted’, recommending pragmatically but probably not in accordance with Henderson’s

aspirations, that

‘the chief consideration should be the general education of the majority of the pupils, who will

eventually complete their studies in this school and go into business.’240

Douglas Fielder (Roper’s, 1930–36) recalled that ‘there was an hour’s worth of homework each night

and there were 30 people per class’. This was certainly an improvement from the boys’ perspective

from homework set in the School’s earlier years: in an obituary for Mr JH Marsland, who joined the

staff of Alleyn’s in 1878 and retired in 1919, it reported that Mr Marsland ‘greatly reduced the

homework of the 5th form from six to four hours a night, a change which was greatly appreciated by

the boys.’241

In a letter Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) alluded to the:

‘striking dichotomy between the arts side of the school and the science and sports side; the arts side

being led by WJ Smith, Ken Spring, Jack Lanchbery. I think I said that WJ considered that any time

spent on sport which could have been spent rehearsing the next concert was wasted time. His bible

was John MacMurray’s Reason and Emotion242

and his contention was that the education of a boy’s

emotions was at least as important as the education of his intellect.’

On Founder’s Day in 1934 the Magazine reviewer wrote that ‘the chief interest centred on the

exhibitions – Nature Study, Art, Science, Woodwork – in fact, all the tangible proofs that can be

given that the boys don’t waste their time entirely.’243

One of the criticisms of the inspectors was the way in which some teachers taught many subjects –

for example, the inspectors noted, in the style of the 1066 and All That writers, how Scripture

‘involves a large number of men (24) in the teaching of Divinity, and this in the opinion of the Head

Master is a good thing’244. Coming in for sterner criticism was the mathematics department. Here

there were

‘four masters [who] gave their whole time and eleven who give part of their time to the subject. Of

the latter, seven take the work, or some of the work, of one Form only, and five or six are without any

special qualifications in Mathematics.’245

240 Ibid, p5

241 Magazine October 1936, p426

242 John Macmurray (16 February 1891–21 June 1976) was a philosopher of the personal. His thought moved

beyond the Modern tradition begun by Descartes and continued in Britain by Locke, Berkeley and Hume. He

contributed to thought on politics, religion and education, as well as philosophy, through a long career of

writing, teaching and speaking. (The John MacMurray Trust at http://johnmacmurray.org/)


244 Board of Education Inspectors’ Report, 1932, p9

245 Ibid, p17


60

They go on to recommend that ‘It is therefore a matter of some urgency that a Master with good

qualifications in Mathematics should be appointed and that the work should be put in charge of

fewer men.’ Happily, by 1938, this problem was addressed and the LCC inspectors acknowledged

that

‘the disadvantages that are liable to follow when the teaching is shared by an unusually large number

of masters have been largely countered.’246

In their recommendations for the history department, these same inspectors suggested

implementing – what reads to my eyes like – a modern-day ‘scheme of work’:

‘A proper full-dress syllabus should be provided by the history staff, i.e., a syllabus that states aims

and methods and gives not only a full list of the method-units that are to form the subject of study,

but also a clear idea of the nature of the data to be included under them. Some modified form of this

should be in the hands of the boys; it would strengthen their grip on their work at all stages.’247

The Board of Education’s inspectors were satisfied by the numbers of boys taking their Higher School

Certificate, noting that

‘in the last three years Scholarships and Exhibitions have been gained at Oxford, Cambridge and

London Universities – five in Science (and one State Scholarship), two in Mathematics, two in History,

one in Arts, and seven Choral or Music awards. Thirteen of these (seven being Choral) were at Oxford

and Cambridge.’248

Library

During the 1930s, the School library was being expanded – from being ‘two inconvenient rooms in

the lower corridor’249 to being a purpose-built library in 1937. Book-borrowing figures increased in

direct correspondence to the library’s expansion. In 1939, ‘no fewer than 361 new books were

added. This has been a natural stimulus to book borrowing, and the figures have been rising steadily.

The addition of Library periods to the school curriculum too has excited keen interest, especially

among the younger members.’250

The library’s expansion was probably borne from another criticism made by the Board of Education

inspectors earlier in the decade. They wrote that ‘there is no real library’ that was worthy of a School

‘of its size and importance’251. The inspectors acknowledged that this might have been ‘owing to the

financial situation’ occurred by the nation’s economic crisis but urged Alleyn’s to consider the

building of a library ‘at its earliest opportunity’. They described how the current library was


247 Ibid, p14



250 Ibid, May 1939, p229

251 Board of Education Inspection Report, p3 & 4


61

‘housed in a double apartment in the semi-basement of the main building, an apartment somewhat

gloomy, which has also to serve daily as a dining room. The books are kept in large glass-fronted cases

arranged against the walls, and the rest of the furniture, apart from pictures, consists of long tables

and chairs such as are needed for the midday meal…’252

However, the inspectors credited the school’s librarian with vision and ambition. He

‘has an excellent plan in mind for the organising of reading circles and dramatic study amongst the

boys, through the influence of the Library, thus making the latter a centre of culture for the whole

school.’253

And then the inspectors snatch away this vision of readers’ Utopia, reporting that

‘at present, however, the book-cases have to be kept locked, and the chief issuing of books [has] to

be done in the brief break in morning school.’254

The inspectors’ report correlated the lack of a decent library to ‘the Sixth Form work’ which ‘as a

whole just falls short of real distinction’ stating that ‘the absence of a library cannot be without its

influence on the quality of the Sixth Form.’255 However, by 1938, the LCC inspectors enthused about

the School’s ‘priceless addition in the shape of a handsome library’ and ‘the enterprise of the

librarian’ leading to such innovations as ‘A Picture of the Week’.256

There is reference to one intriguing exhibition put on in the new library in 1937. It was ‘an exhibition

of original manuscripts and books, most kindly lent us by Messrs J & E Bumpus, the Oxford Street

Booksellers.’ I have not been able to find an obvious link between the School and the publishers

(not Upward’s) for this event – perhaps it was mounted on the occasion of the library’s opening?

However, it was described as ‘one of the outstanding events of last term’ and

‘the centre of interest was the section on TE Lawrence. Lawrence’s own copy of the original edition of

“The Seven Pillars of Wisdom,” sumptuously bound in leather, and magnificently illustrated in colour,

and the copy which he abridged for “Revolt in the Desert”, were on view…. Another very popular

exhibit was a series of autographed letters and manuscripts of modern authors.’

These included those of Hillaire Belloc, GK Chesterton, John Masefield, George Bernard Shaw, and

Thomas Hardy.257

252 Ibid, p4

253 Ibid, p4

254 Ibid, p4

255 Ibid, p8


257 Magazine, February, p126


62

Lectures and clubs

In these pre-television days, Alleyn’s hosted lectures and films (educational, of course) for the boys.

They heard about the ‘deadly effect of chimney smoke on the life of England’s great cities’, saw

‘superb’ lantern slides of ‘the epic of Mount Everest’, and a ‘sound film’ giving ‘a photographic tour

of Messrs Cadbury’s works at Bournville.’ The Bournville film was preceded by pictures of the

Olympic Games at Los Angeles.258

In the 1938 LCC Inspection Report, the inspectors recommended the purchase of an ‘epidiascope’

[an early form of projector] for the history, geography departments’ use in the classroom.259

The boys also expanded their intellects and interests through membership of various clubs – as

pupils still do today. A French Club was founded in 1934 – and duly wrote its magazine reports in

French; the Scientific Society was inaugurated under the chairmanship of Mr Incledon in 1937 and

Mr Doubleday ran the Poster Club which produced posters for School productions, such as The

Gondoliers. The all-pervading 1932 school inspectors approved:

‘The work done by the boys who attend these voluntary classes showed considerable vitality. To give

an opportunity to boys who are keen on the subject by organising groups in this way is admirable.’260

258 Ibid, July 1934, p178-9

259 LCC Inspection Report, 1938, p14 & p15

260 Board of Education Inspectors’ Report, 1932, p20


63

MUSIC AND THE ARTS

‘As out-of-school activities, music, drama and art were welcomed by many boys as a happy release.’

John Bate, (Tulley’s, 1932–39)

It was at this time that Alleyn’s reputation for being a crucible for forging burgeoning artist talent

truly started. The pursuit of all forms of artistic endeavour at Alleyn’s was key in helping later pupils

survive the long evenings and weekends away from home when the School was evacuated to

Maidstone and Rossall.

Music

‘Music at Alleyn’s started me on a life-long romance with that art-form.’ John Burman

(Tulley’s, 1934–39)

Henderson, in his Headmaster’s address at Speech Day in 1934, noted that ‘especially pleasing was

the reputation the School was gaining as a musical school’.261 This had grown from a rather brief

two-sentence mention about music in the Board of Education’s inspection report in 1932: ‘Music,

instrumental and choral, takes a prominent place in the life of the School. A number of concerts are

held each term, recitals of various kinds are arranged in the dinner intervals.’262 And by 1938, the

LCC inspectors were able to write that ‘the school is most fortunately placed with regard to the

study and practice of music. The Headmaster, himself a keen amateur musician, is sympathetic and

helpful, and the teaching of music is in the hands of a thoroughly capable and enthusiastic master.’

This was WJ Smith. In any recollection of music at Alleyn’s for this period, especial mention has to

be made of the School’s Director of Music, ‘Mr Smith, was the alpha and omega of the show.’263

WJ Smith’s predecessor as Director of Music at Alleyn’s Hugo Anson264 remarked that Alleyn’s was:



263 Ibid, March 1933, p889

264 ‘Hugo Vernon Anson (1894-1958) was born in New Zealand. He came to England in 1912 and studied

(initially economics, medicine and law before settling to music) at Trinity College, Cambridge and the RCM where he taught from 1925 and was Registrar from 1939 (after his spell as Director of Music at Alleyn's School) and followed that with war service in the Admiralty. He composed songs – titles include Full Moon, Last Night and New Zealand – choral music, some it for church use, incidental music, an Idyl and other pieces for violin and piano, ‘cello pieces, a Suite for flute and piano and a String Quartet, but much of his most important work was for piano. This included Five Preludes (1928) with descriptive titles, genre pieces such as The Lonely Sailing

Ship and Puck in the Belfry, a doubtless colourful St Tropez Suite for two pianos and, perhaps his chef d'oeuvre, the Concerto for two pianos and string orchestra, premiered by the BBCSO in 1936 and published for the unusual forces of three pianos, six hands, in the dark days of 1941. Someone must have believed in Anson's music then; precious few have done so since.’ Philip L Scowcroft: British Light Music Composers' (currently out of print) at www.musicweb-international.com/garlands/anson.htm


64

‘lucky to have a headmaster who is willing to encourage music and who takes in it such an active

interest as to play the double bass – after all, the bass is the foundation of all music.’265

WJ ‘Puff’ Smith

The AOBs of these years all have vivid memories of WJ Smith, regardless of whether they were

musical or not. Sidney Giles (Brown’s, 1933–42) wrote that:

‘RBH was obviously sufficiently keen on music to have made an unusual appointment to the post of

Music Master in the person of WJ Smith, who had been a professional opera singer, an actor, and I

believe had walked on as “extra corps de ballet” in the famous Diaghilev season at Covent Garden in

1913, though when we knew him he was far too corpulent for that…. But he was something of a

rebel, nothing of an academic, and above all he believed in performance rather than theory.

Henderson must have supported him in the printing of a special set of hymn books, with music, to

encourage everyone to learn to follow and sing a part.’266

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) wrote that WJ Smith

‘was a magnificent teacher of music and he had an absolutely undying, unquenching [sic] love for

music of all kinds, and for theatrical presentations. He did ballet, formed a first and second orchestra

and a chamber group. He trained the whole school to read parts in morning assembly and to perform

an oratorio each term. Any man who can encourage scrotty schoolboys to do that and enjoy it was a

great man, so I owe him a huge debt.’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) had ‘happy memories of country dancing in the music room with us

youngsters clomping around with exaggerated noise to the exasperation of Mr Smith.’ Mr Alexander

gave a physical description of Smith in his book:

‘To quote from One Boy’s Growing Up by Roy Barnes, WJ was “stately, small, rotund, upright and bore

himself with an inimitable poise. If he had been a woman he would have been a ‘dead ringer’ for

Queen Victoria”.’267

Roy Bull (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) explained Mr Smith’s nick-name: ‘most masters had a nick-name but

Mr Smith did not when I was there – he acquired one [‘Puff’] when evacuated to Rossall’. Dennis

Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–39) wrote that Smith ‘clearly believed in pushing his musicians to the best of

their abilities, taking advantage of the presence of boys whom he considered to be particularly

talented. Lanchbery was one of the stars and there were a number of others.’268

One of the pupils whose name was regularly mentioned in musical despatches was Norman

Spurdens (Tulley’s, 1933–40): the Magazine reports how he played piano Mozart’s earlier Concerto

in B flat ‘powerfully and with considerable musical accuracy. At this age one cannot expect


266 Miles (Ed), Drama &Music: The Performing Arts at Alleyn’s, Alleyn’s School, p41

267 Alexander, p28

268 Miles, p41


65

interpretation of any depth, but he obviously enjoyed the more riotous and less contemplative parts

of the concerto.’269 Mr Spurdens wrote that

‘I am forever indebted to WJ Smith, our great music master, who taught me the piano and enabled

me to gain a choral scholarship to St John’s College, Cambridge.’

Mr Spurdens appeared in a concert at County Hall, 21 March, 1939 to celebrate the jubilee of the

London County Council’s foundation. Alleyn’s was ‘honoured by an invitation to provide a

programme of music in the conference hall on the first day of the exhibition.’ The programme

included ‘Les Djinns’, a symphonic poem for piano and orchestra by Cesar Franck. Unfortunately, the

performers weren’t given an opportunity to rehearse in the hall beforehand but ‘NA Spurdens, who

played it, deserves to be congratulated on his excellent performance given as it was under

conditions to which we were all unused.’270 It comes as no surprise to learn that the young Mr

Spurdens won the Music Prize in 1939.

The 1938 LCC inspectors reported on the (nameless) School’s music master: ‘The music master of

Alleyn’s is to be congratulated on helping so many pupils of this school to win choral scholarships to

colleges of the university.’271 From 1935–37, the inspectors recorded that there were no fewer than

eight choral scholarships won by pupils for Cambridge University.272

Mr Alexander reported that:

‘WJ encouraged the school orchestra, the annual performance of Gilbert & Sullivan and a raft of solo

performers. He also insisted on taking musical appreciation classes throughout the Senior School as

well as teaching musical theory and notation to as many as would listen.’273

The 1938 inspectors acknowledged that the music master ‘deserves sincere commendation for all he

does to encourage a love of good music amongst the scholars.’274 They recognised that Smith’s aim

was to produce ‘a good standard of general musicianship rather than highly polished skill in one

branch of the art,’ adding cheekily that ‘considerable trouble is taken with the apparently tone-deaf

scholars.’275

269 Magazine, February 1937 p493

270 Magazine, May 1939 p22


(Dulwich), p3

272 Ibid

273 Alexander, p28

274 LCC Inspection Report, p6

275 Ibid, p20


66

WJ Smith became quite a notable authority in Cambridge on musical education and published a book

on music in schools Music in Education276 that enshrined his principles. Another talent he fostered

was Jack Lanchbery.

276 Faber & Sons 1947 (out of print)


67

John Lanchbery

Mr Bull remembers John Lanchbery277 (known as Jack Lanchbery at School):

‘as a contemporary of mine (here we revert into well-known history) and eventually became the chief

conductor of the Royal Ballet Company at Covent Garden and composed many pieces of music, La

Fille Mal Gardée perhaps being the best known. He was also for a time musical director of the

Australian Ballet, and of the American Theater Ballet, and associated with [Sir] Frederick Ashton and

Kenneth MacMillan. Ashton asked him to write the music for The Tales of Beatrix Potter.’

When our guests went on the tour of the School the Great Hall reminded Charles Jessup of ‘Jack

Lanchbery playing a voluntary on the organ as we filed out – if one listened carefully you could hear

a current pop tune woven into the music.’ Mr Giles wrote how Lanchbery was:

‘….an irreverent soul, technically capable of switching seamlessly from an improvisation on a baroque

theme during the concluding voluntary to an air from the current Gilbert & Sullivan show, and

switching smartly back when WJ doubled back to the organ loft to reprimand him. He had a dramatic

gift as well; I recall a very good Lady Macbeth sleepwalking scene in one of the classroom readings.’278

Smith was a tremendous help in starting the careers of several notable professionals; others

included the bass John Franklin and the tenor Leslie Fyson. Leslie Gosling (Brown’s, 1927–33)

remembered a trip to Venice organised by Smith:

‘I expect that you have Polimani on the AOB list. He was probably well up in the school when I

entered. About 1930 Smith the music master took a party of about 25 pupils to Venice during the

summer holidays. We left by sea from Tilbury docks to Ostende, and thence by train to Milan, where

we changed trains, but had breakfast. Here by prior arrangement Polimani joined the party. He was a

tenor in La Scala Opera Company.’

Smith’s predecessor, Hugo Anson, acknowledged that ‘Alleyn’s is very lucky to have a Director of

Music who is able to organise the musical and dramatic side at the same time. Very few people can

do this competently.’ In his review of The Gondoliers, Anson said ‘experiences such as the

performance of The Gondoliers help lift the aural blinds…’279

277 ‘John Arthur Lanchbery OBE (15 May 1923-27 February 2003) was Alleyn’s most accomplished musician to

date. After school he studied at the Royal Academy of Music and was to become famous for his ballet

arrangements. He came into dance as musical director of a small but ambitious company, Metropolitan Ballet

and the Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet. In 1960 Lanchbery was appointed chief conductor of the Royal Ballet at

Covent Garden, and as his life took him travelling he was for periods musical director of the Australian Ballet

and of American Ballet Theater, besides frequent guest engagements with many companies. As a ballet

conductor, he had the gift of doing justice to the needs of the music and the choreography.’ (Obituary, The

Times 28 February, 2003). Alleyn's received a generous bequest from Jack Lanchbery upon his death which

continues to support the development of music within the School.

278 Miles, p41)



68

Drama and musical productions

Mr Giles wrote that the drama at Alleyn’s in these years was divided into:

‘Three sorts of dramatic presentation: the annual play or opera; the House concerts; and, depending

on the Master, the “acted readings” of set plays in the classroom…. The annual event, just before

Christmas, could be a Gilbert & Sullivan opera or a Greek play, for which a special ‘set’, including

columns and a frieze, was erected.’280

Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39) remembered the annual ‘D’Oyly Carte productions at

Christmas. We had a Mikado one year, Gondoliers, Iolanthe, HMS Pinafore. I remember those

occasions very well. Not so much of the straight drama; one or two, Alcestis (about 1935/6)…. I

wasn’t actually involved in the drama but, you know, there were a lot of talented people there.’

When our visitors were taking coffee in the Great Hall Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937–39) recalled

being in Iolanthe.

‘I very much enjoyed our playing in Iolanthe. I have a picture again of that period of time when my

friend Laurie Little and I were in the chorus. I was looking, when we were sitting in the Great Hall

earlier on today, at the gallery of lights above and, of course, in that time we had a bank of lights on

the ‘lower deck’ if I can call it that.’

Mr Spurdens too remembered the G&S productions ‘which we loved! I was once Iolanthe!’ and Mr

Bull was ‘a fairy in Iolanthe. I think I can say that the standard was very high.’ The orchestra

consisted of pupils and some staff – including the Headmaster. Mr Bull’s father, ‘who was a

conductor of a large LCC orchestra also played the violin and augmented the orchestra from time to

time.’

Chapel choir

As well as musical productions, Alleyn’s School also provided the choir for the College Chapel in

Dulwich Village. Mr Bull was a member:

‘There was morning and evening service every Sunday and Holy Communion once a month, which

took place immediately after the morning service when the choir occupied the seats in the nave. For

most services the choir sat in the first floor balcony, immediately in front of the organ which was 250

years old. Power to the bellows was supplied by an electric motor which occasionally broke down. In

this event the bellows were activated by a lever projecting from the side of the organ; a member of

the choir would pump the lever up and down, keeping an eye on a bobbin on a string which indicated

the amount of air available to feed the organ pipes. It could be an exhausting job if the Toccata &

Fugue by Bach was being played…. Choir practice was every Tuesday evening at the school.’

The school inspectors also recognised the School’s contribution to the parish church’s choir: ‘the

choir for the Chapel, which also serves as parish church on the estate, is furnished by boys of the

School.’281

280 Miles, p41)



69

Founder’s Day concerts

In the 1930s a concert was given at the close of the Founder’s Day celebrations.282 Bernard

Gildersleve (Brown’s, 1935–40) remembered how:

‘…we trebles used to rehearse for the big Founder’s Day concerts in the Great Hall. This gave me a

love of choral singing and, for most of my life, I have sung tenor in various choirs and choral

societies….’

Art

The Board of Education’s inspectors recognised that

‘The Head Master is fully alive to the importance of the subject to the School as a whole, and the Art

Master can look forward to sympathy and encouragement in the development of his work in a

vigorous and live [sic] way.’283

Art at this time was taught by ‘the Art Master’ Mr Doubleday. The inspectors described him as ‘an

enthusiast for his subject’ and ‘that he has the capacity to tackle it in a really interesting way which is

likely to appeal to the imagination of his pupils’. 284 Doubleday

‘has some experience as a lecturer in the National Gallery and he is in a very good position to give his

pupils a training in the appreciation of works of Art side by side with their practical work. Some of the

senior boys have given short lecture-demonstrations to the Upper Middles on various branches of Art

and Craft of which they happen to have some special knowledge, and the Art Master hopes to

develop this interesting scheme further into the future.’285

Doubleday was still at the school six years later for the 1938 LCC Inspection. The inspectors

described his teaching philosophy:

‘No syllabus has been drawn up by the art master, as he holds the opinion that the course should be

flexible and adapted to the needs of individual pupils. As the basis of his teaching, he accepts the

child’s instinctive need to create and attempts from this to develop a true perception of beauty.’286

An Inter-house Art competition was started in 1932 and by 1936 the judges had had enough. They

wearily commented

‘upon the preponderance of aeroplanes “more or less in flight,” but “most of them seemed to be

flying in a vacuum, and nowhere was there an attempt to treat the subject as a skyscape.” In drawing



284 Ibid, p20

285 Ibid, p20



70

attention to the fact that “the cult of speed is not the only thing in modern life,” it was regretted that

imaginative productions were not more in evidence.’287

This seems hardly fair: the boys’ obsession with speed reflected that of the nation – indeed the

world. During the inter-war period many of the world speed records were held by Britons.288 Mr

Alexander and his junior school friends re-enacted the scenes at Daytona Beach:

‘the main junior pastime was racing model cars on a mud track behind one of the class blocks. This

was a fiercely contested event in which one packed one’s car with lead and launched it down the

track to gain the maximum distance. Bluebirds and Gold Arrows competed with Silver Bullets in

simulation of Daytona Beach where world speed records were set by the great racing names of the

Thirties.’289

But back to the Inter-House Art competition and those speed-weary judges: a year later the reviewer

writes in more positive vein that:

‘the absence of those aeroplane studies that have been so monstrously the backbone of recent

competitions was a welcome relief… Originality, or rather imagination, was certainly more in evidence

this year, there were even one or two abstract and cubist compositions.’ 290


288 See chapter on ‘Privilege’ for reference to the visit of Sir Henry Segrave (famous racing driver and

motorboat racer who set three world land speed records) to a Duke of York camp in 1929.

289 Alexander, p24



71

STAFF IN THE 1930S

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) recalled that at the Senior School ‘the roll-call of masters over

those four years certainly included some eccentric characters,’291 but, ‘nevertheless,’ believes John

Shea (Dutton’s, 1935–39), ‘they were all dedicated to the ethics of their profession.’

In 1933, RBH stated that

‘…for the present Masters I have no hesitation in saying that no school could be served by a more

hardworking and loyal body of men. We are united, but our unity is not an accident; it is the result of

a common endeavour to realise an acknowledged idea: we know what we aim at, what we are doing,

and why we are doing it. ’292

The year before, there was approximately one member of staff to 20 boys; five years later, this ratio

had dropped slightly to one master to 17 pupils. (This compares to 1: 8 today.) The staff came under

the watchful eyes of the Board of Education inspectors in 1932. They recorded that there were 41

members of staff (‘All regular’)293, of whom, 24 were appointed by Henderson. The 1938 LCC

commented forlornly that ‘there is only one secretary to carry out all the administrative work of this

large school.’ 294 In their description of the School’s premises, the LCC school inspectors lamented

that there were only ‘two w.c.’s for 40 masters’ which, they decreed with desperate

understatement, was ‘inadequate’.295

The inspectors continued:

‘Twenty-three hold Honours degrees, and of these 16 have been appointed since 1920. In point of

qualifications and teaching, the ability the staff as a whole may be regarded as adequate but not

particularly distinguished. On the other hand the newer appointments raise it above the average in

other respects.’296

Old timers

As the inspectors reported, by the 1930s, many of Henderson’s staff had been at Alleyn’s for a long

time, some since before the First World War, e.g. Cooke, Hutt, Tyson. One nameless AOB comments

that ‘I don’t remember any unpleasant masters but some of the older ones were really past it.’

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) recalled ‘Mr Hutt, “Polly Hutt” as we called him because of his

parrot-like nose, was quite an elderly gentleman and delighted in telling us that he taught our

291 David Alexander, p25

292 Headmaster’s Speech Day speech, Edward Alleyn Magazine (EAM), Nov 1933



(Dulwich), p4

295 Ibid, p1 & 2

296 Ibid, p5


72

fathers and they were stupid as well . His favourite expression for somebody who was a bit dim was

‘a lump of cold mutton fat’. Despite this abuse, Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) credited ‘Mr

“Polly” Hutt as an exceptionally good teacher – something I appreciated later on. Our favourite

teachers were those in subjects you liked.’ John Bate added that ‘algebra never revealed its

mysteries to me, although ultimately geometry and trigonometry did. “Polly” Hutt did his best for

me and so I did achieve a good pass in elementary mathematics in my School Certificate.’

Another old timer in Dulwich was Alfred Ernest Baggins, the School porter who ‘was something very

much more than the Chief School Servant’. He spent 34 years at the College, the last 12 of these

being spent at Alleyn’s. The Magazine reported that ‘In spite of his many duties – and no one on the

staff worked harder – he found time to be interested in everything that went on in the School or

playing field.’297 Leslie Gosling (Brown’s, 1927–33) recalled that Mr Baggins was an ‘Old

Contemptible’, i.e. one of the first 100,000 to go to France in the First World War, ‘not many

returned after four years. The first thing he told us was that we were to be officers in the next war,

how right he proved to be and this was only 11 years after the end of that war, and I was just 14’.

Qualifications of staff

The 1938 LCC inspectors in their report counted about ‘40 masters, all suitably and many highly

qualified’.298 Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) thought that Henderson’s ‘younger masters were all

themselves public schoolboys and this gave a classy tone to the staff.’ The inspectors felt that the

‘newer type brings valuable elements’ and thought that the ‘two classes [of old and new masters]

have mingled well.’299

Interestingly, the earlier inspection recorded the degrees and classes of the masters; for example,

the master in charge of Geography was described as having ‘a Cambridge degree with Third Class

Honours in the Mental and Moral Sciences Tripos; his main interests lie in Economics’ –

nevertheless, the inspectors credited him with being a ‘competent’ teacher.300

One of our AOBs Roy Bull (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) wrote that he ‘liked most of the masters; they knew

how to deal with boys. Most were Oxford, Cambridge or university-educated.’ Mr Tilley’s favourite

master was ‘JA Taylor – known as Troffette or Boobay because he was the only one of the younger

masters who had not been to Oxbridge, a term by the way not then invented. He had only been to

Durham.’ John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) recalled Mr Taylor as ‘an efficient dispenser of Latin.’

Robert Young remembered that Henderson

297 Magazine October 1935


(Dulwich), p4

299 Report of Conference with Governing Body and Board of Education, 1932, p3

300 Ibid, p13


73

‘came out with the outrageously sounding statement that an Oxford man could teach any subject up

to "O" level without notice, and that a Cambridge man could do likewise with a little notice.'301

However, Young added that Henderson ‘poo-pooed the idea of having a teaching diploma, and said

he was appointing schoolmasters, not teachers! ...He did say he wanted his appointed newcomers to

take the boys to the hills, to take a commission in the OTC and to learn to play a musical

instrument.’302

Mr Alexander recalled being ‘ruled by Mr Williams, a gentle soul who was not much of a teacher but

who did love his newts which he kept in a tank at the back of the classroom….I cannot remember

anything which he taught me.’303 Bernard Gildersleve (Brown’s, 1935–40) also remembered Mr

Williams who ‘was my first form-master in Form 1 in the Tin Building [Tin Tab] and, because I was

interested in the cabinets and breeding cages of moths and butterflies and of the various aquaria

and vivaria in the form room, I joined and enjoyed Mr Williams’s Nature Study Society.’

Mr Williams’s butterflies were mentioned in the Board of Education’s inspection:

‘The work is taken by a Master who has no academic qualifications for teaching science but under the

stimulus of having to take the lower Forms in nature study has developed into a keen naturalist. To a

great extent the work is kept in touch with living things, deficiencies in these being supplemented by

a good collection of butterflies, plants, etc., which has been accumulated.’304

Six years later, the LCC Inspectors commented namelessly on Mr Williams, reporting that ‘Nature

study is taken in junior classes by a capable and enthusiastic master who has accumulated much

illustrative teaching material.’305

Another master who did not appear to be formally qualified was ‘the PE master, Mr Heal, [he] was

not an academic but, I think, an old naval petty officer and an old fashioned disciplinarian. Every

Tuesday and Thursday the whole school paraded on the quad for a quarter hour bout of physical

exercise, under his baleful glare. I woke up to the value of this kind of thing when I was about 60!’

(Henry Tilley).

The inspectors complained about the inefficiency of the masters teaching subjects on which they

have no qualification. They pointed out that ‘it was clear at the Inspection that a subject would gain

if it were placed in fewer hands, or at least taken out of the hands of men who possessed little

aptitude for its teaching.’306 This criticism was not effectively addressed because five years later, the

1938 LCC inspectors remarked that ‘concentration of the work in fewer hands would be an


302 Ibid, p85

303 Alexander, p23



306 Ibid, p5


74

advantage’307, that ‘too many masters teach history’308, and that ‘some of these [French] teachers

have good academic qualifications in the subject and some have none.’309 Robert Young

demonstrated Henderson’s child-like logic on this issue:

‘when LCC inspectors had complained to Henderson that in the subject of English no fewer than 21 of

the Staff were teaching it, all without a specialist degree in English, he [RBH] simply replied that he

had 21 Englishmen on the Staff.’310

The Junior School staff also came under the inspectors’ glare. There was ‘some excellent teaching of

various subjects…. but not all of the Masters are equally well calculated to stimulate the energies

and sharpen the wits of young boys.’311

However, the same LCC inspectors noted that ‘these juniors are exceptionally well organised by the

master in charge. He has the proper attitude of mind towards his young pupils and directs their work

carefully and well.’ 312 Mr Albert Spring was the Headmaster of the Junior School and Tom Bamford

(Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) affectionately described him as ‘a teacher of the old school who was able to

instruct and enthuse while keeping quiet discipline. English, history, geography and maths began to

mean something and his kindly good humour won him much affection. His classroom seems sunny in

my memory compared with the gloomy and somewhat fearful rooms presided over by Williams,

Wright and Snowden…..He was everything that a master should aspire to – and few seldom attain’.

The earlier inspectors wrote that Mr Spring was a master who ‘has a natural gift for teaching

younger boys, and is, in other respects, admirably suited for this position [of Head of the Junior

School].313

The 1938 LCC inspectors recorded that in the last ten years ‘ten assistant masters have won

promotion to headships, two have become Inspectors of the Board of Education and three have

joined the administration of local education authorities’314. Recognising that several masters went on

to promotions at other schools, Henderson said approvingly that

‘he felt it a great compliment to Alleyn’s School that so many of the Assistant Masters had received

these [Headmaster] appointments [i.e. promotions], and when recently he had visited one of these

307 Ibid, p9 [of Classics]

308 Ibid, p14

309 Ibid, p12

310 Young, p211


312 Ibid, p4

313 Board of Education Inspection Report, p9


(Dulwich), p4


75

schools and seen the unity and confidence that existed, he was reminded of the harmony that

prevailed here, where everyone, masters and boys, formed a united house.’315

Mr Rodney Pasley was one such promoted member of staff. He was much liked by the boys and his

departure to become Headmaster of Barnstaple Grammar School in North Devon was reported to

leave ‘a gap in the School which it will be hard to fill. It is no exaggeration to say that he was

respected and liked by all, master and boys alike.’316 Douglas Fielder (Roper’s, 1930–36) stated that

his ‘favourite teacher was Mr Pasley, the history teacher,’ and John Bate recognised that ‘In the main

school, Rodney Pasley taught History well’.

Favourite masters and mentors

All our visitors agreed that they liked the teachers of the subjects in which they did well and those

who showed a real interest in their pupils. Mr Bull wrote that ‘Mr Haslam was a master I particularly

liked. If you make a mistake he would call you a ‘boiled owl’. Mr Haslam, who ran the Chess Club,

even had a poem written about him in the Magazine celebrating his qualities and popularity:

The Junior School in winter drear

Cares nought for such a time of year

As makes their elders boredom fear,

But still is cheerful.

What if the rain is pouring hard

And football games once more are barred,

Not all our pleasures will be marred –

There still is Mr HxxxxM.

‘Tis he conducts the mimic fight

On chequered boards with Queen and Knight,

Bishop and Rook in serried might

Assembled.

Hither and thither how he flits,

Instructs, cajoles, upbraids, outwits;

A kindly mentor there he sits

In IIIA Class-room

Thus by his aid our rainy day

Passes in merriment away:

With heart and voice we all must say –

Long live our Mr HxxxxM.317

Several masters were remembered as mentors and influencers by our AOBs. Charles Ralph Alison,

who succeeded RBH as headmaster from 1939–45, was a ‘considerable influence’ on Mr Alexander.

315 Magazine, Oct 35, p265

316 Ibid, June 1936, p358

317 Magazine May 1938, p61


76

He was ‘very relaxed, and again an enthusiastic man, a bit of an actor himself. Even his delivery had

something of the old fashioned stage about it but he encouraged us to do a lot of drama and he

taught us current affairs and various other parts of the curriculum which made it lively and

interesting. We set up the Bear Pit which was a play reading society…. I was a founder-member of

the Bear Pit and I can remember now some of the plays which we read then. A very good way of

spending a Saturday evening or a Sunday afternoon in winter-time.’

Mr Bate recalled ‘Basil Davies with gratitude. He was interested in his pupils. He helped me to get to

Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and supported me after the war after he had left Alleyn’s.’

Whilst Mr Alexander found fault with Felix Morris ‘Freddie’ Goldner for ‘the rapidity with which he

taught – far too quick for the likes of me who never had a real understanding of mathematical

processes – and he tended to run with the best and leave the remaining lagging in the rear,’ to Peter

Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43), JK Brown and LC Walters he was key to their academic successes. Dr

Philpott remembered that ‘we were part of the Scholarship sixth form at Rossall in 1941–42’ and

‘we were closely and enthusiastically mentored by FM (Fred) Goldner…. who was a very good maths

master. He was our form master for a while and I first got to know him then. He ultimately proved to

be a great support and mentor to several of us, particularly when we got to Rossall.’

Another favourite of many generations of pupils is Sidney Incledon who taught at Alleyn’s from 1928

to 1969 and was reputed to have had a prodigious memory.318 Mr Bamford explained that ‘”Inky”

was twice deputy headmaster, the first occasion was when Charles Lloyd suddenly went to Dulwich

College. Then on the sudden death of John Fanner [headmaster at Alleyn’s from 1967–75].’

Others were looked upon with great affection. Ted Hawkins’s (Cribb’s, 1933–39) remembered his

‘form master “Dicky” Rudd who remained my favourite teacher throughout my six years at school.

He was a kindly man who knew his subjects so well that all his lessons were interesting and a special

treat for us boys was when, on the rare occasion, he read from the Jan Stewar stories in a rich

Devonian accent.’ RHD ‘Loopy’ Young, who wrote A Schoolmaster in the Henderson era 1935–40,

was identified by both Mr Bate and Mr Alexander as being ‘the one who was liked… who

enthusiastically taught English and History and whose method of keeping order was to seize you by

the hair and whirl your head around. It was painful but effective. He had a great sense of humour

but was soon called up on the outbreak of war and had a very active service career in the

infantry.’319 There is an amusing reference to Loopy in the Magazine in a report on a trip to the Lake

District: ‘I have one complaint to make: need we have walked through so many bogs? It was soon

apparent that Mr Young was very partial to short cuts that invariably led through them.’320

Much has already been written about WJ Smith in the chapter on the arts at Alleyn’s. Mr Alexander

said:

318 There is a bursary fund set up at Alleyn’s in memory of Sidney Incledon.

319 Alexander, p26



77

‘I would like to acknowledge particularly some words that were said in commendation of WJ Smith:

he was a magnificent teacher of music and he had an absolutely undying, unquenching love for music

of all kinds, and for theatrical presentations. He did ballet, formed a first and second orchestra and a

chamber group. He trained the whole school to read parts in morning assembly and to perform an

oratorio each term. Any man who can encourage scrotty schoolboys to do that and enjoy it was a

great man, so I owe him a huge debt.’

Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) added that

‘By the time I had reached some seniority at Alleyn’s I was quite a good horn-player and my father

wanted me to go into the Civil Service – which was the last thing I wanted to do. All I wanted to do

was to play the French horn, and the only way I would be allowed to do that was to go to university.

So I got a choral scholarship through WJ Smith who gave me a crash course in singing and I got an alto

choral scholarship at King’s College, Cambridge.

John McAnuff (Tulley’s, 1936–43) shared a delightful memory of WJ:

‘I think I had arrived with my father one day and he was about to drop me off and there, around the

corner from Calton Avenue, came an open tourer. I couldn’t say what make it was but this was WJ

Smith’s, his car driven not by WJ but by a rather privileged sixth-former wearing – I think – a Roper’s

cap; who he was I don’t know but he must have been quite a special protégé of WJ to be allowed to

drive his car! WJ enjoyed this especially because it was in the summer with the top down, and he was

beaming away, enjoying being chauffeur-driven by one of his students.’

Not surprisingly, some AOBs disagreed on their verdicts of the masters. Mr Alexander recalled that

‘Mr McClymont was no doubt a rugged Scot and a hard taskmaster but I found him a dedicated and

passionate teacher with a great enthusiasm for the precision of the ancient languages and for the

romance of ancient history.’ Mr Bate recmembered McClymont as ‘a kindly man, [who] always

thought we found Greek as easy as he did, but he gave me a lasting interest in bird-watching.’

However, Mr Bamford recalled with some regret that ‘the one subject that I could not get on with

and the one master that I could not get on with was Mr McClymont. Now I know that he was held in

great regard by some people, but I was made to do Greek because I was supposed to be good at

Latin. But I never came to terms that I failed that in School Certificate. And Mr McClymont I’m afraid

was just an ogre as far as I’m concerned. I never got on the same wavelength as him and he never

got on mine. That was the one... other subjects were fine, but Greek, that was my bête noire.’

Individual disciplinarians

It would be unfair, given the passage of time and change in attitudes, to single out any masters as

meriting the badge of ‘least favourite teacher of the 1930s’. Nevertheless, there are memories of

some dubious instances of discipline meted out which, even eighty-plus years on, make the reader

(and AOB) wince.

One AOB wrote that ‘the master I did not get on well with was EC ‘Teddy’ Eayrs. ‘[Name], there’s the

door, get out of it before I put my boot behind your thick skull!’ Another joined Brading’s House

where the ‘Housemaster was Mr Gregory, a dry and humourless stick of a man who I believe, taught

maths. Mercifully I only encountered him for religious instruction where his congested voice would

drone out passages from the Old Testament and then attempt an utterly un-illuminating

explanation. I have never been so bored then or since.’


78

Harold Pettinger (Roper’s, 1932–38) recalled that ‘Colonel Snowden from the Junior School came in

full military uniform,’ and Dr Philpott recalled that the Colonel ‘…spent a lot of time talking about the

First World War where he served.’ A fellow AOB wrote that ‘Form IIIA was governed by Colonel

Snowden, a thin martinet with a taste for the cane that hung from the corner of the classroom

cupboard and was known as “Timothy Tickle-Tail”. The beatings were carried out in full view of the

class.’ Another master who did not score highly in the affection league tables was Mr Waters.

‘Mr Waters put us through our paces in the workshop: a man much feared for his strict discipline

regularly enforced with a steel rule on the seat of the pants. I did not progress beyond the production

of a rather sadly skewed matchbox holder and did not become one of his favoured craftsmen. Mr

Waters was not the best-loved member of staff.’

Eccentrics

Mr Tunstall pointed out that ‘we boys were quick to pick on any weakness, oddness or

“unfortunate” mannerisms in the staff and had a healthy disrespect for many of them. Mr Jessup

remembered that ‘there was one teacher with big ears – when he entered the room the boys would

make a gentle buzzing sound.’

Other masters were not recalled with much pleasure: Mr Wright, ‘Pussy Wright’ as he was known.

seems to be one of them. One AOB related that ‘…the moustachioed ‘Pussy’ Wright in Form II [did

not] instil any lasting wisdom, except a healthy respect for his favourite punishments which were to

rap you sharply across the ear with the edge of a ruler, followed by the command, “Put out your

face”, whereupon he would administer a resounding slap on the cheek.’

Mr Bull remembered:

‘One master was very deaf and the jokers in the class would make peculiar noises and remarks under

their breath when he was teaching, assuming that he couldn’t hear them. Another master told us

about the deaf master. He was in the First World War and had been decorated for bravery in saving

the life of a comrade and was deafened by the explosion of guns and shells. There were no more

peculiar noises or remarks after that.’

Recognised masters

Some masters stood out for their titles and public acclaim. The arrival of Edward Upward, writer and

friend of Auden and Isherwood, was reported in 1932: ‘We also welcome on the staff this term Mr

EF Upward, MA, of Repton School and Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.’321 There may be an

anonymous reference to Upward in the 1938 LCC Inspection Report. Of the English staff, it wrote:

‘All are skilful and enthusiastic teachers. One especially, who is himself engaged in literary

production, shows a sensitive taste and has an excellent command of method.’322

Upward, who died in February 2009 aged 105, taught at Alleyn’s for 30 years. He

321 Magazine November 1932, p811

322 LCC Report, 1938, p8


79

‘was the last of the "Auden generation" of young writers who, in the 1930s, brought a political

consciousness to modern literature. He was also the oldest, and perhaps for that reason was regarded

by his colleagues as a mentor. WH Auden himself cited Upward as a crucial influence on his early

work; Stephen Spender acknowledged a similar impact on his political development; to Christopher

Isherwood, a lifelong friend, Upward was the ultimate judge of all his work.’323

Mr Alexander acknowledges

‘a debt to… Edward Upward, who was a very quiet withdrawn sort of man but with a wonderful

understanding of English literature. He taught me in the sixth form, when we read Hamlet and such

like. He was a great influence and he was a card-carrying member of the Communist Party. He was a

contemporary and great friend of Auden and Isherwood so he was a man of some literary standing

and wrote novels himself. It wasn’t until he was in his 90s that I caught up with him again in that I

heard he was publishing yet another volume of short stories. So I wrote to him, as the address was

apparent from what was written and I congratulated him on being able to do so at such a late age.

And within a year or two he passed his 100th

birthday and we exchanged one more letter between us

at that time before he sadly passed away at around 103, I believe. But he was a wonderful influence.’

Another master, Mr Percy Cooke, who taught French for 36 years at Alleyn’s, was recognised not

only by the School as an excellent teacher, but also by the French State.

‘The French Government has conferred on Mr Cooke the title of Officier d’Academie in recognition of

his services to the cause of French education. This distinction is very rarely granted to teachers who

are not French subjects. We offer to Mr Cooke our hearty congratulations.’324

Mr Cooke was later awarded the distinction of Officier de l’Instruction Publique in recognition of his

services to students in France and to the cause of French language and literature.325 Kenneth Hovey

(Cribb’s, 1933–39) recalled that ‘the favourite teacher was Percy Cooke, who was the French master

and he was popular amongst the students.’ Again Mr Alexander wrote about

‘One other curious character among the staff was a Mr Cooke who, despite his name, was in fact

Belgian. He was an excellent teacher of French and insisted on dictating to us a potted French

grammar. It was so effective in instilling the rudiments and the oddities of the language that I

preserved it and it remains somewhere amongst my memorabilia. Cooke was also a very emotional

man and if one played one’s cards right it was easy to get him to talk about his experiences of Belgium

in the First World War. He would get more and more worked up and finish, if one was lucky, by

revealing in hushed tones to his cynical audience (who had heard it all before) how the Germans had

committed frightful atrocities including cutting off women’s breasts. He was shocked by the cheer

which went up when he reached his punch line. We regarded his performance as a welcome relief

from French irregular verbs!’326

323 Obituary, The Guardian 16th February, 2009


325 Ibid, June 1937, p526

326 Alexander, p26


80

One member of staff who inherited a title was Mr Maitland – Sir John Maitland, 6th Baronet of

Clifton in the County of Midlothian. He taught Classics to our AOBs and during this period succeeded

to his father’s title.327 In Mr Alexander’s memoirs he wrote about Sir John:

‘Sir John Maitland, Bart taught me Latin. He was also known as the Dirty Old Man or “DOM” for short

on account of the food stains that adorned his lapels and his ties. He also had severe shell shock from

the First World War and was prone to violent scratching of his scalp and outbursts of uncontrolled

temper. There was one occasion when I translated a sentence from Caesar as “Three soldiers on the

legion captured the city of....” instead of “Soldiers of the Third Legion captured the city of…” Maitland

flew into a rage, swiped me round the head with his copy of The Gallic Wars and screamed “Are you

trying to make a fool of me boy?” Unhappily he was too easy to rag and his life must have been a bit

of a misery. He got his own back when we were evacuated to Maidstone in 1939. The local Mayor

fancied himself no end having received a knighthood for his services to the people of Kent and he

lived in some state in a mansion within his own zoo park. Maitland went to enquire whether he would

receive any evacuees and was received by the Mayor warming his backside at his baronial fireplace.

With great condescension he introduced himself to the scruffy schoolmaster as a knight of the realm

and Maitland was able, to the Mayor’s chagrin, to reply, “I’m Sir John Maitland, Bart. How do you

do?”’328

[Editor’s note: Throughout the war, the Edward Alleyn Magazine published lists of those who had

joined up, were awarded promotions or decorations, were taken prisoner-of-war or reported as

missing, as well as those who had been killed in action. This labour of love was carried out by Sir John

with ‘meticulous care and to him fell the task of producing the Roll of Honour at the cessation of

hostilities.’329

Sir John hand-wrote letters of condolence to the parents or widow of all those who

were killed during the War. He died shortly after his retirement in 1949. It appears that no-one

continued the Roll of Honour after his death as the last appearance of it was in the Magazine of

November 1949, the last issue before Sir John died.]

Robert Young was the first member of staff to be called up for service in the war. He recalled,

however, that ‘the authorities soon got onto other members of the staff as well, and if Henderson

had not been a personal friend of the then minister for war, he would have lost most of his staff.'330

I shall leave the final word about the staff to Mr Gregory who, in his valete for Mr Henderson, wrote:

‘As for us masters, we owe it to his beneficient yet easy rule, that we have been able to work so long

under happy and fruitful conditions, counting always on his quick sympathy and ready sense of

humour. As time goes by and we look back on the last twenty years, we shall realise, more fully than

we could when we stood in the midst of its gradual development, how great was the work that Mr

Henderson did for Alleyn’s.’331

327 Magazine February 1037, p475

328 Alexander, p25

329 Chandler, p73

330 Young, p107

331 Magazine, Nov 1940, p384


81

SPORT AT ALLEYN’S

Henderson’s commitment to providing a public school education at Alleyn’s was consolidated through his attitude towards sport. As previously mentioned, RBH adhered to the Rugbeian idea of Alleyn’s providing a physical – as well as intellectual – training ground for English Christian gentlemen. Taking part and playing team games was thought to imbue a sense of fair play and duty in our young men. For this reason, sport featured strongly in the curriculum at Alleyn’s. David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) wrote that:

‘The school was very keen on a wide variety of sports and other extra-curricular activities. Cricket,

football (at which I was hopeless), athletics, gymnastics (I was light and agile in those days), boxing

(which I hated – I could see no reason to be bashed by bigger thugs than me), Rugby fives (at which

the school excelled) and cross-country running (which meant flogging round the school fields in the

winter mud and rain) all figured in the programme.’332

In 1932, the Board of Education’s inspectors wrote:

‘Careful consideration is given to the boys’ physical education, which is conceived on broad and generous lines. So far as opportunity permits, effective encouragement is given to all forms of bodily activity which contribute to the boys’ physical well-being and development and have value for the formation of character through co-operative effort.’

333

The 1938 LCC Inspectors wrote that ‘Alleyn’s is lucky in having fine playing fields of about 22 acres adjacent to the school. They are kept in excellent order and, though they are not large enough to provide full opportunities for sport for all boys, they are thoroughly well used.’334 Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) remembered that there were many sports at Alleyn’s: ’I played cricket, football and Fives. We didn’t play squash until Rossall. We did swimming at Dulwich Baths and there were lots of sporting opportunities.’ There was also

‘the annual steeplechase held in February, which entailed hurdling and a jump into the watercourse on Topside…. There was also a boxing tournament each autumn term, which was a bloody affair. Some poor boxers protected themselves by kneeing their opponents and were roundly booed for their cowardly tactic’ (Henry Tilley, Roper’s, 1935–40)

The school inspectors recommended that ‘the provision of instruction in eurhythmics and folk

dancing might well be considered, on the ground of their physical value… as well as their artistic

value’335. While I can’t see that this would have been a popular move by the boys, six years later, this

recommendation appears to have been adopted by the music department: the ‘Jacques Dalcroze

system of Eurythmics ensure that the realization and manifestation of the rhythmic sense is based

332 Alexander, p27



(Dulwich), p2



82

on considered movement.’336

Visiting the Old Gym on the Memories Day reunion reminded Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) of

his attempted forward roll on top of the box horse. He ‘rolled off sideways and dislocated [his]

elbow’. The gym was also surveyed by the school inspectors in 1932. They advised the School to

build a changing room:

‘It is desirable on hygienic grounds and in order to secure complete freedom of movement that the

boys should change for the gymnastic lessons…. If, however, this is found to be impracticable (and the

absence of a changing room attached to the gymnasium is a handicap) the boys should at least wear

shorts in place of their ordinary trousers.’337

By 1938, the changing room still wasn’t built. The 1938 school inspectors reported that ‘there is no

changing room and the boys have no opportunity to wash after taking exercise’. In fact, the 1938

inspectors were strongly critical of the Physical Education Department, stating that the ‘gymnasium

should be modernised and adequately equipped, and a changing room, fitted with shower baths,

should be provided.’ They went on to itemise precisely what was required: ’17 wall bars, 10 climbing

ropes fitted on an overhead trackway at 2 ft. 6 ins. centres.’

Even with these improvements, the inspectors recommended that another fully equipped

gymnasium be built to accommodate the numbers of pupils and the required teaching periods.338

The inspectors found that ‘the present allocation of time falls far short of the three gymnastic

lessons a week recommended by the Board of Education’.339

Timetable for games

Games were played on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and, on Saturday afternoons, pupils were

expected to return to School to watch school football and cricket matches. In the Magazine, an

admonishing finger wagged that

‘The support from the School on the line was fairly good, but it must be better. Every fellow should be

keen on his School side and come and join the crowd. A yell from the line sometimes galvanises our

players and makes them perform miracles, even leading to goals!’340

Mr Alexander lamented that

‘even on Saturdays we often had to attend a compulsory turn-out to watch the school eleven perform

at football or cricket after the morning classes. I watched [elder brother] Lindsay, who excelled at any

of the major sports: he was a natural athlete and won his colours for everything he turned his hand

to. So my winter afternoons on the touchline were tinged with a certain level of envy as Lindsay




339 Ibid



83

weaved his way with skill up the right wing to deliver an accurate cross. Alas, the elm trees no longer

grace the first eleven fields and I doubt whether one can still hear the shrill cheers of the compulsory

crowd as a goal is scored or a boundary struck.’341

The School inspectors – but not our AOB-visitors – described ‘massed exercises, in which all the boys

of the Senior School take part, are held in the open air twice a week during the morning break. They

are of considerable value on hygienic grounds, and as a refreshment and stimulus between lessons,

and also no doubt as a discipline.’342 The inspectors were clearly fans of exercise as ‘nothing can

suitably take the place of systematic physical instruction, providing as it does a foundation of health,

strength, stamina and bodily control that is important as well for progress in the other departments

of physical education as for the boys’ future career in life.’343

Representing the School

To represent the School at association football, cricket or rugby fives was a highly regarded

achievement. At the reunion, our guests recalled their participation in the high jump team:

John Bate: ‘I remember David Gibson, who's here today; he and I were both members of the school

high jump team in 1939. I remember once I beat him and once he beat me.’

Dennis Fowler: ‘Yes, I remember that occasion. In those days, am I right in thinking, one did the

scissors jump as it was called? And then I remember one boy, perhaps it was you, doing not the

Fosberry flop, the one before that: he sort of projected himself over the bar.’344

Mr Hovey: ‘Though in those days there was no way of landing.’

Mr Scrase: ‘Yes, you had to land on your feet.’

Mr Hovey: ‘Of course, if you landed on your back you'd be dead after the first jump.’

Harold Pettinger (Roper’s, 1932–38) recalled that playing for one of the First XI teams was ‘a great

achievement!’. Seventy years on, it still rankles Mr Alexander that

‘I played in the school’s First XI for cricket for two-and-a-half years under the cricket master Mr Taylor

(who I don’t think really knew one end of a bat from another!) and although I played for the side for

two-and-a-half years years I was not awarded my colours because “they had to keep up the pre-war

standards” – which was strongly resented at the time!’

Even if you didn’t play for a School team you were still not spared the physical challenge of team

sports. Mr Tilley ‘played for a cricket team called, unflatteringly, “The Remnants”, because you had

not been picked for any of the house teams.’

341 Alexander, p27

342 Inspection Report, 1932, p21

343 Ibid, p22

344 Editor’s note: this was probably the ‘Western roll’?


84

Mr Pettinger described how they ‘played football with a leather ball which had a lace and it was very

heavy when wet. You didn’t want to head it.’ Our guests recalled AOB Colin Powell (sp?), who was in

Tyson’s, ‘he used to play football for Dulwich Hamlet345’, Dr Philpott added ‘That’s a team!’*

Not all School sportsmen played at such an exalted level of competence. Mr Alexander added a

quick cricketing memory ‘I was not a member of either side, but I was scoring for a house match, and

I can verify, as the scorer, that one side managed to get themselves all out for one run only!’

Fives

As has been mentioned elsewhere, Henderson was a keen Fives player and, according to Mr Tilley

‘the one thing Alleyn’s was good at was Rugby Fives; in fact GHM Riddell was public schools Fives

champion in about 1937.’ There was one particularly moving obituary for Fives player, AOB Philip

Malt, ‘a charming personality and Fives player of outstanding ability, who played the largest part in

extending the scope of the Fives Club’s activities and maintaining the high standard of play so that,

today, its position among Fives clubs is second to none.’ His obituary recorded that Malt was ‘a very

loveable person’ and that ‘In his presence formality could not endure and he could melt the most

frigid atmosphere.’ 346

Running track

In 1933 the Magazine heralded the commencement of a great new enterprise: the construction of

the cinder running track on the top field which is still in use today, proclaiming it ‘A new battlefield

for athletic heroes’.347

During the 1920s and into the 1930s Alleyn’s had been attempting to emphasise and promote track

and field athletics as a major School sport, and the Magazine of July 1931 commented:

‘It has long been felt that a cinder track in the School grounds is not the luxury it once was considered

to be, and now that additional playing fields have been brought into use, the space for such a track is

available – nothing is required but the necessary money. Athletics form an increasingly important part

of School activities, and if the School is to hold its own in this branch of sport it is essential to have a

track which can be used on those days when the fields are impossible for other games. It is obvious

that by the provision of such a track, much valuable time, which now is lost owing to bad weather,

can most usefully be employed to the advantage of the boys and the School.’348

345 Formed in 1893, they joined the Isthmian League a few years later, winning it a total of four times, between

1920 and 1949, and wear a famous pink and blue strip. The club also won the Surrey Senior Cup 1993/34, and

1936/37, the FA Amateur Cup in 1931/32, 1933/34, and 1936/37 and the London Senior Cup in 1938/39. Their

greatest ever player was Edgar Kail, who scored over 400 goals for the club. An amateur footballer, he won

three full caps for the England team against France, Belgium and Spain in 1929, and shunned 'big money'

moves to professional clubs to play for his beloved Dulwich Hamlet. Bert Coleman also won an England cap

while playing at Dulwich in 1921. At that time, they had attracted crowds of up to 20,000.



348 Ibid, July 1931, p611


85

In October 1932, the Board of Education’s inspectors who so loved exercise en plein air reported

that the School’s ‘playing fields…. though well laid out and maintained and larger than those enjoyed

by most London schools, do not provide all the pitches needed for the attainment of this desirable

object; there is a residue of boys for whom such regular participation is not at present available.’

They then went on to recommend:

‘It is suggested that the defect might be made good by the development of facilities for the practice

of athletics, which would give the boys who are excluded from games an opportunity of obtaining

equivalent exercise in the open air, and also of acquiring the skill and interest in athletics that are not

so easily come by when practice, as is so often the case, is limited to a few weeks in each year.’349

And so, in 1932, the boys were put to work under the supervision of SR Hudson, master-in-charge of

games (and later headmaster of Alleyn’s from 1945–63). Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) told us that

‘Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday afternoons were given over for sports and if not allocated to a

team one was assigned to “digging”. This unusual activity was concerned with building the cinder

running track on top field to which I gave several afternoons.’ In November 1933, the Magazine

reported that ‘the running track is now well on the way. Parties of boys are working on it on every

possible occasion, and it is hoped that it will be completed for Sports next March.’350

Many of our AOB guests and contributors remembered the digging. John Shea (Dutton’s, 1935–39)

wryly stated: ‘I did considerable work on the track, it was formally known as a “voluntary dig” – the

word voluntary is subject to interpretation…’ Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–39) couldn’t ‘remember

it as being a punishment or anything. It was more like one week you were on football, the other

week you were on the track. It was almost fun as I recall,’ while John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39)

remembered the activity varying ‘from House to House’, explaining that

‘in Tulley’s, if you didn’t do any other form of sport it was virtually compulsory to dig. If you didn’t like sport anyway you went digging, maybe even twice a week, and you might do it on a regular basis. My elder brother hated sport and probably dug more than anyone which was one of the reasons he became a structural engineer!’

In the Tyson’s Magazine report for February 1937, we find ‘the terrace is still the scene of great

activity for digging stalwarts but a little more co-operation from other members of the House is

necessary.’351 Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) recalled that

‘having done some navvying in the early days of the construction of the running track – always known

as digging, I was appointed House Digging Captain, responsible for organising (designating) and then

supervising (making sure they turned up) our House team whenever required. My brother, before he

became House Captain (around 1933 or 1934) had been Digging Captain for Spurgeon’s.’

In June 1937, the Dutton’s House report stated that ‘unfortunately, the new authorities produced no





86

digging statistics to confirm our [Dutton’s] belief that we are again Premier House in this activity.’352

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) remembered digging as ‘a particularly futile experience (“Roper’s dig

a hole. Dutton’s, fill it in!”).’

But there was a way to get out of digging – which Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) revealed:

‘I played an enormous number of games all the time – which is why I never did any digging because it

was restricted in my time to those people who weren’t involved in playing House or School games and

as I played everything that was going I managed to avoid doing any digging, though I did use the

running track when it was finished.’

(This isn’t surprising as one Philpott is listed as runner up in the Junior School Fives championship in

1936).353

The building of the running track was a subject of satire in the plays being rehearsed for a House

Supper in 1934. ‘…David [Bellow, House Captain] and the other Pre’s [prefects] had been able to

work in quite a few topical references about running tracks.’354 The track also inspired poetry:

Diggers

We are the running-track makers,

And we the workers in teams;

Wandering by sharp earth-breakers

Feeding the lorries by streams;

Time-losers and School-forsakers,

On whom no warm sun gleams.

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the terrance for ever, it seems.

We have no vision amazing

Of the goodly track we are raising

For the future generations’

Ambulant recreations –

We only toil without leisure

Through windy weather and rain,

For masters’ and House prefects’ pleasure

(Next week we’ll do this again!)

And therefore to-day we are filling

The truck that must carry and fetch:

A truck that performs at our telling

The wishes of SRH

352 Ibid, June 1937, p532




87

And – none of us being exempted –

We are bringing to pass, in our way

Things that were left unattempted

On the Prefects’ Holiday!

Edward Alleyn Magazine, November 1933355

There was indignation when the writers of the Athletics report in the Magazine in July 1935 glibly

announced that ‘this year the running track was used for the first time.’356 In the next issue, the

editors were forced to eat humble pie for such a low key announcement:

‘It would be well for both [editors and readers] to consider what lies behind the print. ”The track was

used for the 1st

time…” – what a summary of past effort! What promise of energy to come! Only those

who have dug on a cold damp November afternoon, when the fire, hot tea and buttered toast are but

a distant vision, know what that effort was. Only those who have raced round the last bend with

burning throat and heavy thighs after an infinitely distant leader, know what the effort will be.’357

The 1938 LCC inspectors recognised the pupil-effort in building the track:

‘The school possesses a running track made by the boys, under professional guidance, and paid for

out of the profits of the shop. It is well used, and cross-country running is another healthful activity

which can be indulged in within the limits of the school fields.’358

Several of our AOBs remembered the track being officially ‘opened’ by Sydney Wooderson359

‘the great Olympic runner, coming to run on our track, which was very decent of him as its

dimensions were all wrong from his point of view.’ (Henry Tilley)

The benefits of the running track were soon apparent, both in terms of improving athletic

performance – ‘with the track available for adding speed to the stamina developed trotting around

the field’360 – and in terms of it enabling sports day to continue unchecked by poor weather. ‘The

Lent term was so wet and the fields were so water-logged that it would have been impossible to

hold the [School] Sports without possession of our cinder track.’ 361

355 p1047


357 Ibid, October, 1935, p250


359 Sydney Wooderson, ‘was one of the greatest British athletes of all time, at various stages the world record

holder for the 800 metres, the half-mile, the three-quarter mile, and the mile. In addition he was European champion at 1,500 and 5,000 metres, and national cross-country champion, astonishing achievements for a solicitor who could train only in his spare time. Wooderson, though, was shy and modest, and seemed content that his glory should fade into oblivion.’ (Obituary, The Daily Telegraph 23 December 2006).


361 Ibid, June 1937, p539


88

Even though the running track was finished in 1935, there were still track tasks to be done by the

boys; construction gave way quickly to weeding-duty.

Our AOBs were more than a little proud of ‘their’ running track:

Mr Fowler: ‘I thought it was rather good, actually. It was a good track when it was done.’

Current Pupil: ‘Well, it’s still there now!’

And, to end this chapter, I found this piece of whimsy written in the manner of Wind in the Willows

which appeared in the February 1939 issue of the Magazine. It is the AOBs’ Cricket Club’s report for

that issue:

‘The Secretarial-hedgehog was asleep! In fact if he hadn’t been covered over with earth you would

have heard him snoring. He lay curled up comfortably and it was some minutes before the sound of

the bell reached his ears. Suddenly he stirred. Grunting loudly, he blinked, quivered all over, and

finally woke up completely. Putting out his hand, absent-mindedly, towards his alarm-clock, he

realised almost as he did so that it wasn’t going. “Someone at the door, I suppose” he murmured

sleepily. He put on his dressing gown (a highly ingenious garment specially designed to accommodate

the peculiarities of his exterior) and yawning, began the long walk up the passage from his burrow,

just as the bell rang out again.

“What do you want?” said the Hedgehog gruffly to the person who stood waiting outside as he

opened the door.

“Editor’s compliments, Sir, and may he have your copy for the Magazine?” “He may” said the S-H “but

like as not he wont, unless he wants me to say what was said last year, and very likely the year before

that!” “But you must write something, just to show you’re alive” said the messenger, beginning to

look alarmed. “Of course I’m alive, and of course the Cricket Club’s alive” snorted the Hedgehog “do

you think because we’re over 60 yrs old we’re getting decrepit. You tell the people who read this

magazine of yours that if they want to enjoy a good game of cricket in good company this year, just

let ‘em come and see me, and I’ll tell them where they can find it! You can give them my address.”

“Eh, yes” said the messenger, a little taken aback, “I’ll tell them that, and I’ll tell them to come down

to Burbage Road and see things for themselves” “that’s right said the Hedgehog, beginning to look

sleepy again “but say that I’m busy till April” “Very well” said the messenger, “Good aftern__” But the

Secretarial Hedgehog had shut the door, and was already on his way back to his burrow, and his bed.

There he hopes to remain until the spring sunshine re-awakens him.’ 362

362 Ibid, February 1939, pp198-9


89

DISCIPLINE

‘You were kept in your place. Discipline was fairly strict… you couldn’t get away with any

wild behaviour.’ Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39)

This was one area which prompted a lot of reflection from our AOB guests both on the day of the

reunion and after it. They all felt that discipline in Henderson’s day was much stricter than now. In a

letter after the reunion, John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) described

‘the authoritarian nature of the School in the 1930s. I wonder if the First World War and the OTC had

anything to do with it? Certainly a number of the masters had seen military service and some helped

to run the OTC… In any case children were more often “seen and not heard”. Parents were allowed no

part in the running of the school and parents’ evenings were unheard of.’

Tony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) wrote to stress that

‘for a young boy Alleyn’s was quite an intimidating place. Discipline meant punishment by the masters

– the cane (six of the best), impositions (lines) and in the last resort, expulsion. Punishment was

countered by “ragging”, outrageous and merciless. It was incessant war. Benign, fun masters like

“Loopy” Young, were the exception, and clever decent masters, like Nelson George, could be reduced

to tears.’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) remembered that

‘There was an air of authority at Alleyn’s which was quite usual in all such establishments and all

masters were able to use corporal punishment if deemed appropriate. I was in the Shell form when,

one sunny afternoon, school was playing an MCC eleven. I had bobbed up (more than once) to try to

see the scoreboard, which tried the patience of Colonel Snowden to the point where he gave me

three strokes of the cane on my right hand. He lived on Sydenham Hill and had his two sons at

Alleyn’s. After the final lesson of the day he sought me out and gave me a lift to the top of the Hill in

his big car.’

One of the masters, ‘Pussy’ Wright, was a great imposition fan. Bernard Gildersleve (Brown’s, 1935–

40) wrote in remembering Mr Wright’s

‘pointed finger and the word “imposition” meant writing 15 lines. Not a great punishment, you may

think, but they had to be written on the printed imposition paper obtainable only from the Junior

School Headmaster, price one penny. Mr Spring used to look at me over his “half-moons” and say:

“Gilderzleve [he always pronounced the ‘s’ in my surname as a ‘z’], what have you been up to?”’

Roy Bull (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) proudly remembers that he ‘only had one imposition while I was at

Alleyn’s. I answered one of the masters by saying “Yea sir”. I was given 60 lines “Say ‘yes sir’ and not

‘yea sir’ when speaking to a master.” I had to get my imposition paper from my Housemaster, Sir

John Maitland. “This is not like you, Bull,” was his remark but I imagine he saw the funny side of it. I

thought I should have been complimented on being so “Shakespearian”.’

Sadly, the recollections of punishments continued from our guests.

‘My final experience was six on my backside for talking during a term-end exam. This was

administered by the biggest master, “Fat Sam” Pell, after school, in the bowels of the main building. I


90

deserved it and did not dare tell my father because I knew what his reaction would be. Pell was my

least favourite master!’ (Ted Hawkins)

Mr Bate tells of a significant victory for the boys against a master, Mr Snowden ‘who wielded the

cane far too freely’ and one day,

‘he left the class and when he came back we had all been talking. And he pulled his cane out of the

cupboard and said “Any boy who was talking come out to the front”. And one or two went out, three

or four went out and then the whole class went out and stood in front of him and bent over. He

looked at the 25 or 30 of us and sent us back to our seats and we didn’t get a caning. Victory for

democracy!’

As well as corporal punishment and impositions, other punishments included hours of attachment to

works parties clearing up around the School or constructing the new cinder running track,

compulsory runs and financial fines. These fines were implemented for the late return of library

books – e.g. ‘twopence is imposed for every three days that a book is overdue’ 363 and failure to

padlock bicycles. Ultimately, these fines were for a good cause as the Magazine reported that ‘the

Library Fund benefited to the extent of over £3 from cycle fines during the past term.’364

There didn’t appear to be much consistency applied to punishments for poor Mr Bate who ’was

given “two” on the hand’ by the Head Prefect ‘for forgetting to padlock my bike – such was the

power of the prefects to dish out punishments for so called “crimes”.’

As well as demanding good behaviour from the boys Alleyn’s considered that ‘manners and

appearance were important’ (John Burman, (Tulley’s, 1934–39). Mr Hawkins wrote that ‘the school

uniform had to be worn at all times except Saturday afternoons and Sundays, and prefects reported

on any infringement seen outside.’ Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) remembered that at the

Junior School:

‘we had to wear short trousers. It wasn’t until we got into the Senior School, I think, that we were

allowed to wear long trousers which affected me because I was a very lanky youth and reached six

feet when I was about 16. We wore black pin-striped trousers and a black blazer in the winter, and in

the summer we wore grey flannels and the school blazer which was blue. Not all that different from

the blazer that you wear now. We wore a house tie – or prefect’s tie if you were a prefect. We all had

to wear caps until you were in the sixth form when you were allowed to wear a boater in the summer.

There were various different sorts of badges. If you were a House prefect you had a silver button on

the top of your cap, and if you were a School prefect, you wore a gold button on your cap. Woe

betide you, though, if you were caught wearing your school uniform without your cap: a very high

rate of punishment for that.’

Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937–39) added that in ‘the summer term we wore boaters. If I say straw

hat you’ll all have a laugh but we sixth formers wore boaters.’ Robert Young wrote about these

straw boaters:

‘The privilege of wearing a straw hat was a thing which honestly astonished me.... The hats became


364 Ibid, March, 1934, p4


91

almost a snob-indicator. If you came to Alleyn's from Sydenham or Streatham you could get to school

unbashed, but if you came fm Peckham or Brixton your hat would be stolen or kicked in by other

children, not fortunate enough to be at Alleyn's!’365

School prefects

As outlined in the chapter about the Headmaster, prefects were key to the day-to-day running of

Alleyn’s. Prefects represented the apogee of RBH’s vision of what a public school boy’s education

should culminate in.

‘School prefects were Gods and were terrifying people who had the power of life and death over us

and the other boys…’ Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43)

Prefects were an essential, albeit forbidding, part of the running of Alleyn’s. John McAnuff (Tulley’s,

1936–43) recalls ‘the image one had of the prefects, even though they were only one or two years

older than us, [was that] they appeared to one as belonging to a different race.’ Dudley Ferdinando

(Brading’s, 1932–39) agreed that ‘at 11 or 12 one looked up to the prefects, boys of 17 or 18, with

almost reverence.’

The 1938 inspectors recognised that ‘internal discipline is largely in the hands of house and school

prefects chosen from the members of the sixth form.’366 John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) commented

that

‘the prefects were much like teachers as well because they caned boys. The School prefects had a

Common Room by a shed and for some boys’ punishment they used to take boys behind the shed and

cane them!’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) remembered this shed, or hut, and that ‘in those days the junior

school was located in the ‘Tin Tab’ at the bottom of the quad, and in the wooden huts at the side of

Big Side – the main playing field. Next to these was the prefects’ hut.’ In the 1930s this hut was

dismantled and the Edward Alleyn Magazine editors (all prefects), in a sweeping gesture of selective

memory, lamented the hut’s demise:

‘For over a decade that building has withstood wind and, not quite so successfully, weather, and

many are those who have passed through its green and yellow portal. Some have entered by stern

summons, after waiting at the fives courts with mingled trepidation and curiosity; some entered first,

as we once did, filled with consciousness of new authority and waiting for whomsoever will be the

first to knock upon the door and ask for them by name. Others have crept furtively in, and with many

backward glances over the shoulder; all have discovered how false were the detrimental opinions

they held of the unknown interior, how little luxury it contains, how conducive to study it

unquestionably is. And this sacred place, its paint scarcely a year old, is to fall.’367

365 Robert Young, Before I Forget, pp98-99


(Dulwich), p3



92

The Board of Education’s inspectors tentatively suggested that the duties the prefects carried out

interfered with their sixth form studies. They noted that ‘boys who are promising in work are

required with the rest to shoulder responsibilities in the general life of the School, but the

exemption of the Scholar from such duties is certainly not to be desired.’ 368

Edward Wickes (Brown’s, 1933–39) explained the different types of prefects

‘there were house prefects (usually Lower VI) and school prefects who wore black velvet caps with

gold button and badge (from Upper VI). Only the latter had the power to ‘invite’ one to a prefects’

meeting, which could be for a caning offence.’

The prefects oversaw the maintenance of the school rules. Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–39)

remembered ‘you didn’t run on the quad, if you did, a great booming voice rang out ‘DON’T RUN ON

THE QUAD!’ which was the prefects.’ Mr Wickes fell foul of this law and ‘I got 25 lines once and

forgot to hand them in to the prefect because I thought he wouldn’t recognise me – and he caught

me. I got fifty lines!’

Even though Alleyn’s wasn’t a boarding school, it still managed to institute a ‘fagging system’

whereby younger boys would carry out menial tasks for the older boys. One of our guests recalled

that

‘It was still the custom for these exalted beings to have the right to call out ‘fag’ and expect the

nearest boy to respond for a job, for example, of cleaning cricket or football boots. In the late ‘80s I

attended a talk on ‘Christianity and the environment’ given by the retired Archbishop of York, Stuart

Blanch (AOB) and afterwards introduced myself as his one-time “fag”.’ (Ted Hawkins)

Professor Leinster-Mackay argues that the fagging system ‘was probably instrumental in producing one of England’s legendary golfers, Henry Cotton’. Cotton, as a precociously talented but very junior member of the School XI, rebelled by refusing to carry the cricket bags for his more senior team members more than was his share. Professor Leinster-Mackay continues

‘Under the Henderson regime this rebellion merited a beating which Cotton again refused to accept. Banned from school cricket, he took up golf to the future benefit of Cotton and country. This did not earn RBH’s approval since no team spirit was involved in golf. Henderson’s distaste for one of Alleyn’s School’s most distinguished Alleyn’s old boys is well established, but Cotton was no Flashman!’

369

Prefects’ concerts

But, as David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) says, ‘Alleyn’s was not all work and no play’; even the

prefects managed to relax. Many of our AOB guests remembered the prefects concerts they held. Dr

Philpott remembered these ‘marvellous affairs’:

‘They really let their hair down. I remember that at the last one before the Second World War;

Mervyn White performed. He danced a solo on the stage for the whole of Ravel’s Bolero, and you

probably know how long that is, but it was something I can still picture him doing! I met him after the


369 Leinster-Mackay, pp4-5


93

war up at Oxford, because he went back to Oxford, but my memory of him is at the last school

prefects’ concert and they had various skits about various masters who were supposed to be vying for

the favours of the lady [Dora] who ran the buttery. Fred Goldner was one and J Pell. James Pell, he

was rather a tough master, he was vying with Fred Goldner for the care of, the love of this lady. It was

a lot of fun, all in-jokes of course but we all understood them.’

There seems to be an unwritten rule against having jazz in the Magazines of these years370*. In

February 1936, the prefects’ concert reviewer writes that ‘the Hill Billies played music which just

escaped the stigma of jazz, and the applause of the audience showed that they appreciated our

subtle distinctions.’371

At this point it would be useful to mention the School’s house concerts, another popular

entertainment for the School. The Dutton’s House report of June 1937 states that ‘the success of a

House Concert does not depend upon talent, and, even if we had lacked artistic ability, the numbers

of volunteers who were not averse from looking idiotic on the stage would have assured an

enjoyable evening.’372

The prefects would also have overseen their house suppers. The aforementioned Dora is referred to

in a write-up of a House Supper. She was one of the few females at the School in the 1930s, and

worked in the kitchens. The House Supper organisers relate how ‘I’m not going to trouble much

about the supper, we’ll leave that to Dora…’373 She is mentioned again in a parody of life at School:

‘While the Secretary was tearing his hair, surrounded by piles of contradictory notes, cursing the day

the new building was erected; while the porter was donning his best gold-braided uniform, and was

hastily burnishing the tarnished gilt; while D_ was grousing at the number of people she had to cater

for….’374

One House Captain’s relief at having pulled off a successful dinner – in spite of high odds against – is

recorded:

‘And on the night the supper was splendid, and David’s [Bellow] speech finished up well, as he said

how the House would always pull together and help the skipper to steer clear of the rocks; and the

OBs spoke of tradition and told them to join the OBs’ Club when they left, and they all laughed and

clapped and felt very full and happy…’375

370 In 1936, the Magazine reviewer mentions, perhaps with some regret, that ‘however much we sing (no jazz

of course)’ (Magazine, Mar 1935, p161).


372 Ibid, June 1937, p532





94

RIVALRY WITH OTHER SCHOOLS

Our guests were in two minds as to whether there was any rivalry between Alleyn’s and other

schools. One AOB said that there was ‘none known. There was no official contact’ (Brian Beattie,

(Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) while John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) explained that:

‘The only other schools we really knew anything about were JAGS and Dulwich College. We were kept

as separate as possible from the girls, except for using the bus stop in East Dulwich Grove. Dulwich

College was always seen as superior. It was independent: the boys played rugby. There was an indoor

swimming pool, whilst Alleyn’s had to use the public baths near Peckham Rye. I cycled passed Dulwich

College every day and know that my father had intended to have his three boys educated there after

leaving DCPS, but he died in 1928 in Nigeria and left the family with very little money.’

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) elaborated:

‘Alleyn’s boys had a definite inferiority complex towards Dulwich College which was seen as a posher

school by the general public, even though many of them came from state schools on scholarships. No

doubt the same was true of James Allen’s, though for a long time I did not know James Allen’s even

existed. There was not a lot of chat about girls! On reflection, I think this chip on the shoulder towards

the College was more marked among some Old Boys rather than at the school itself. This was fuelled

by the fact that, until 1927, Alleyn’s had not sent directly to university. A clever Alleyn’s boy was given

a place in Dulwich College sixth form and presented himself at university as from Dulwich, which his

old Alleyn’s schoolmates resented….’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) reckoned that ‘we saw ourselves as the junior partners in Alleyn’s

College of God’s Gift. I certainly felt proud of my school and very fortunate to be there.’ Denys

Carden (Brading’s, 1932–39) is quite adamant that he:

‘had no doubt that Alleyn’s was far preferable to Dulwich College, in fact my father went to

Alleyn’s. He was in Brading’s – it must have been around about the 1890s or 1900s and quite

obviously he wanted me to follow suit and come to Alleyn’s as well. As he was in Brading’s I

consequently wound up in Brading’s as well.’

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) wrote that ‘Dulwich College did take boarders and reckoned

itself to be a cut above Alleyn’s. There was certainly little love lost between the two establishments

and we did not meet on the sporting field or elsewhere.’376

However, David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931–39) and his fellow guests remembered an OTC camp in 1937

or 1938 where:

‘all the London schools were there and this particular camp, Eton, Harrow and a school which I

shouldn’t mention which is particularly nearby, and ourselves were there. And somehow or another

we managed to play soccer. You see, a lot of the schools were rugger, but we were soccer schools. So

we joined up with Harrow and the other school joined up with Eton and before we finished there

were about 120 each side trying to kick this ball and my God, it was absolute chaos and the powers

that be had no idea how to control us at all! There were fights and everything!’

376 Alexander, p22


95

Harold Pettinger (Roper’s, 1932–38) recalled that ‘relations with James Allen’s Girls’ School and

Dulwich College were not close but we weren’t rivals. In school plays ladies’ parts were played by

boys.’ Once a year JAGS girls were invited for country dancing in the Great Hall. Rodney Scrase

(Tyson’s, 1937–39) said that for:

‘any school dance or any school play – we would invite the JAGS girls to come and join us. I can

remember going by taxi to pick up a girl from JAGS who lived in Norwood to escort her. It was all very

formal, you'd bow and ask her to dance, it was all great fun I enjoyed it immensely, no kissing or

smooching round the corner, it was generally very nice. No contact with the College at all.’

JAGS girls joined Alleyn’s to perform the Messiah in 1933377 and in 1938 the Fifty Club reports

having a debate with JAGS in which they deliberated ‘that the present-day system of education gives

no command of the art of living.’ The discussion, however, ‘turned out to be superficial and no result

was published’.378

The LCC inspectors in 1938 wrote that Alleyn’s cricket and football teams carry out 'a full programme of matches, chiefly with various Old Boys’ sides and Oxford and Cambridge colleges; at fives, shooting, boxing, etc., matches are arranged with other London schools'379. To my mind, it seems a tad unfair that school boys were pitched against college undergraduates on the playing fields. Of other schools, away from the OTC camp, Mr Tilley recalled that:

‘the football and cricket teams played such minor boarding schools as Ardingly, Aldenham and

Kimbolton. Otherwise we played business clubs, such as Lloyd’s Bank, but never any other local

school. Wilsons [Grammar School, then at Camberwell] used to play St Dunstan’s at the Oval, but

Alleyn’s policy was to avoid local comparisons. I remember one master saying that we should be ‘a

little bit, yes, a little bit snobbish’. You were certainly expected to be above [the] hoi polloi.’

However, whether there was rivalry with other schools or not, today Mr Hawkins observes ‘the

School’s achievements, mainly through the independent schools’ results tables and, I must say, I

derive considerable satisfaction from seeing Alleyn’s placement consistently about that of Dulwich

College!’


378 Ibid, May 1938, pp72-3

379 Report by the Council’s Inspectors of a full inspection held on 14th

to 18th

March, 1938 at Alleyn’s School

(Dulwich), p6


96

OFFICER TRAINING CORPS

A Military Pastoral

Tut, tut, - not a word of the OTC,

For I’m a pillar of that little spree,

A blinking pillar of the OTC,

(A cadet of outstanding abilitee) –

Listen to me: listen to me:…”

“Yet we will talk of the OTC,

Tho’ for his sake quite reverent-lee –

Under the guidance of the OC

‘A’ Company drills energeticall-ee,

Tho’ in Company-Drill we are all at sea,

And the CSM gets us up a ter-ree,

The whole bag of tricks, till it’s time for Tea,

Time for tea,

Tea in the slandered Butter-ee.”

“Before you dismiss, one word to ye,

Look, O look, at that Puttee!

Finish at side, just under the knee,

(Eight tight rings, wound spirall-ee),

Not like the hock of a spavindy gee;

Now disarm in the Armour-ee,

In the following order: ‘One, Two, Three,’

‘Four’ to have extra drill with me.

If it doesn’t improve, you’ll get a DD,

You’re not good to me,

The blinking pillar of the OTC.”

Anon 380

Following the First World War, the Officer Training Corps was reactivated in 1923 by Henderson and

the Corps was affiliated to the First Surrey Rifles; by 1931 the Magazine was reporting that:

‘It will be of interest to former members of the OTC and Cadet Corps to note that our parade state

this term is greater than any since the foundation of the unit in 1915. There can be no doubt that at

Alleyn’s School the OTC is very far from being an unpopular school activity.’381

In 1932 the Magazine proudly announced that:

‘Alleyn’s School is on the list of schools approved by the Army Council and by the Air Ministry, and the

Headmaster has the privilege of nominating suitable candidates for entrance to Sandhurst and to


381 Ibid, March 1931, p546


97

Cranwell.’382

The Magazine further commented that ‘it is pleasing to note that there is in the School a growing

tendency for boys to consider the Army and Air Force as possible careers’. In 1936 Alleyn’s is

reported as having ‘a keen, well-disciplined corps which is a credit to the School.’383 The LCC

inspectors in 1938 wrote that ‘the school has an excellent Officers’ Training Corps with a roll of 360

and in addition a subsidiary company of juniors numbering 160… At the present time, thirty-one Old

Boys hold commissions in His Majesty’s forces.’384

Our AOBs remembered their OTC activities very clearly. Attendance in the Corps was virtually

compulsory although Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) pointed out that objectors could join the

band which involved no ‘military stuff’ except uniform and marching. Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933–

39) remembered that ‘everyone had to be a part of it. We were conscripted!’ However, Edward

Wickes (Brown’s, 1933–39) recalled that ‘it was boy scouts who didn’t have to join the OTC but,

other than that, it was pretty much everyone. ‘

Uniform

Once you joined the OTC, Mr Fowler said that ‘you didn’t get a uniform in the first year. You wore

mufti. You got the uniform after the first year. However, if you were a member of the band you got a

uniform straight away… so I volunteered to play the bugle and got a uniform!’

Roy Bull (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) added that:

‘We were issued with khaki uniform which included puttees and long shorts. Puttees consisted of a

long strip of khaki material, about four inches wide, which had to be wound round the leg starting at

the boot and finishing at the knee. It was an art getting the correct tension: too tight and it was

uncomfortable and tended to restrict the flow of blood and, if too loose, it invariably came apart. It

was used as a bandage in the event of injury. The long shorts covered the puttee just below the knee.’

OTC activities at Alleyn’s

‘We paraded on Friday afternoons, wore long shorts and puttees over black boots and were equipped

with .303 Lee Enfield rifles. I must have looked absurd in my first year, only just out-topping the

height of my weapon. However, I learned how to march and drill (we formed fours in those days),

acquired a little field craft and thoroughly enjoyed the march behind the school band to North

Dulwich Station, the train journey to Epsom Downs, and the freedom of Field Day exercises.’385

Mr Bull recalled that

382 Ibid, July 1932, p794



(Dulwich), p19

385 Alexander, p27


98

‘The school employed a full-time retired sergeant major responsible for training the cadets. We were

on parade once a week. In those days troops marched four-abreast, not three as today. We would line

up in two rows, the order would be given ‘from the right number’ and on the order ‘form fours’ all the

even numbers would take a step to the rear and one to the right and we would be four abreast. Then

the order “right turn” and “quick march”.’

Alleyn’s had its own rifle range which was in a long hut where the present-day swimming pool is

situated. David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) practised in the school firing range which ‘enabled

me to become quite a good shot’. 386

Armistice Day

John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) recalled that ‘perhaps the most vivid memory is marching in OTC

uniform from school behind the military band to the College Chapel for an Armistice Day service

around the War Memorial Cross.’ Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) put the event into context:

‘Then there was Armistice Day when we were drawn up at the war memorial in front of the chapel

and were only too aware of the solemnity of the day as the Great War with its dreadful slaughter

touched most families and was still a painful memory for the nation.’

Military band

Several of our contributors were members of the military band – Messrs Fowler and Tunstall both

played the bugle, John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934–39) was the cymbalist and later a snare-drummer, Mr

Bull was a drummer.

Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) remembered that

‘The bass drum was played by Alan Cave [others nod and smile], who looked very splendid with his

leopard-skin outfit on, the big drum hanging down in front of him. Then we would play from the

school to the station on Field Day. We didn’t have to do any square-bashing because the band was

privileged – you had to play your bugle. So off we went from the school bum-bud-de-bum-da-buddy-

buddy-ba all the way to the station.’

Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39) recalled the OTC’s marching songs: ‘I remember that the

chorus always ended; “There’s none so fair that can compare with Alleyn’s OTC”.’

Field Day

Another aspect of the OTC remembered by our guests was Field Day. Mr Wickes said that as a

member of the OTC ‘you got a holiday at half term. You had a Field Day on the Friday and then on

the Saturday, when everyone else was working, you had a holiday.’ Mr Bull remembered the music

from the OTC band causing a commotion in the neighbourhood:

‘Once a year would be field day where we transported ourselves for manoeuvres on Epsom Downs. I

had become a drummer in the OTC Band and we had to march from school to North Dulwich railway

station, passing JAGS on the way. As we passed all the drums beat louder, especially the bass drum. I

386 Ibid


99

was told by my spies in the school that all work stopped, due to the outrageous noise and giggles

from the girls. There was however one potential problem to this important event – the milkman. In

those days milk was delivered by horse and cart and if a horse was in the vicinity we had to keep

quiet. Once we arrived at Epsom our drums and bugles were stored away and we were issued with

rifles and five blank cartridges. We were told how to advance on the enemy; keep in a straight line ten

feet apart and move slowly forward. This was about 15 years after the Battle of the Somme in the

First World War. We all looked forward to firing our five blank cartridges but sometimes we couldn’t

find a reason for using them and they had to be returned on our way back – most disappointing.’

Mr Tunstall spoke of how, once aboard the train,

‘out came the Woodbines [general laughing] and when we got there, various masters – wearing Sam

Browns from the First World War – would conduct this [puttee-type] warfare until it was deemed that

one side had shot off more blanks successfully at the enemy than the other and then one of the band

would be deputed to play the Retreat [starts singing], when we would all march back to the station

and entrain to Dulwich...’

Mr Alexander recollected that

‘we crawled about avoiding the umpires, fought obscure tactical battles and ate our sandwiches

among the gorse bushes. We spent most of our time trying not to conduct any military exercise

whatsoever, and the quickest way of achieving that was to be recognised by an umpire as having

done something particularly foolish, so you got yourself killed very early on in the exercise.’

Mr Fowler remembered something else they did in the bushes: ‘we would sneak off behind the

bushes to smoke a cigarette’. As well as smoking, others remembered OTC Field Days for their first

forays into drink. Mr Bamford confessed that ‘the first pub I ever went in was on a Field Day!’ and

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) remembered how ‘some prefects used to be the worse for drink

after the lunch’.

Camp

Another annual event was the OTC camp and it was deemed a ‘very essential part of cadet training.

Every cadet should consider it his duty to attend camp at least once’.387 The camp lasted a week and,

in 1936, cost £2.388 Mr Bull described how ‘all the public schools were there. We slept in bell tents

and had our instruction from the regular army.’ Ted Hawkins remembered that the boys

‘unfavourably compared our black buttons with those schools with shining brass and red sashes for

the NCOs.’

An outline for a camp day was included in the Magazine389:

‘Timetable of our daily doings:

6.30am Reveille. Get up, wash, dress, lay out kit for inspection.





100

7.30am Breakfast.

9.0am Battalion Parade, followed by a tactical exercise of some sort.

1.0pm Dinner.

2.0pm On some days there was an afternoon parade consisting of a short route march to

see a demonstration by Regular troops. On returning to Camp Cadets had their

feet and rifles inspected, changed into mufti, and could spend the rest of the day

as wished.

5.30pm Tea, which is not a uniform parade.

8.30pm Supper, for those who wanted it, but by far the greater no went into the NAAFI

where one can buy almost anything from sausages and mash to ices and grape

fruit.

9.30pm First post and closing time.

10.0pm Last Post, when everyone is supposed to be in his tent.

10.15pm Lights Out.’

As well as parades and inspections, the reviewer of the 1935 camp wrote:

‘No report would be complete without a mention of the Night Operations, in which we distinguished

ourselves – one cadet, sent back with a message, waded the Basingstoke Canal in his enthusiasm to

carry out his mission.’390

This operation was later referred to as the ‘Battle of Basingstoke Canal.’391 The review of the 1937

camp at Tidworth Park mentioned:

‘Forewarned about the hill which flanked the Camp, we had better been four-legged that forearmed.

Several times it proved to be an obstacle which we had to surmount unreasonably soon after

breakfast. And who knows a better meal in camp than breakfast?’392

The catering outfit at the OTC camps must have been enormous. For breakfast alone the reviewer of

the 1936 camp noted that the cook ‘fried about a 1,000 eggs which were more or less whole and

separate.’393

Mr Bate wrote that after attending camp in 1937 he ‘was so tired when I returned home that I slept

without a break for 24 hours, for the only time in my life!’

The organisers of the camps encouraged visits from the boys’ families ‘to see how we exist under

camp conditions’.394 Special trains were even chartered to transport visitors to the camp:

390 Ibid, December 1934, p279




394 Ibid, July 1931, p615


101

‘It may be of interest to parents to know that on Visitors’ Day – Sunday, August 3rd

– the Southern

Railway runs a Special Train from Waterloo to Tidworth, at a cheap fare, especially for visitors to

camp.’395

And one reviewer remarked that, on Visitors’ Day ‘the camp, like HMS Pinafore, was invaded by his

“sisters and his cousins and his aunts”’.396

The camps ran regularly throughout the 1930s apart from the 1931 camp which was cancelled

‘because of spread of spotted fever397 among the troops.’398 The camps were cancelled indefinitely

at the outbreak of war.

Certificate A

Many of our guests mentioned how they passed their ‘Cert A’ – some with pride, some with a little

embarrassment. The Magazine explained that ‘no promotion can be obtained in this unit unless the

cadet passed Cert “A”.’ 399 That this became clearly expected of the boys is evident in the Magazine’s

report in March 1931 that ‘It is very pleasing to note that there is great enthusiasm among the

Senior Cadets to qualify for the Certificate [A]…’400

Mr Bate took his Certificate A when he was 16 which then entitled him to be ‘considered suitable

material for a commission in the Infantry’. Mr Alexander wrote that ‘I even passed my Cert A and

was promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal before war broke out.’401

Inspection

The Annual Inspection by a senior army officer was a notable occasion in the School’s calendar. Mr

Bull recalled ‘one held on a very hot day notable for the number of fainting cadets’. In 1938 there

was a fine display of a ‘proud khaki-kinship of 300 potential officers’.402

In 1934, the Inspecting Officer was an AOB. Following his inspection, Lt Col Dyson wrote an

encouraging letter which appeared in the Magazine403 :

‘As an OB of the School, it gave me very great pleasure to receive an order from the War Office to

395 Ibid, July 1930, p446


397 i.e. cerebro-spinal or meningococcal meningitis


399 Ibid, July 1934, p80

400 Ibid, March 1931, p546

401 Alexander, p27


403 Ibid, July 1934, p80-1


102

carry out the Annual Inspection of the School OTC…. In addressing the Cadets after the parade I

pointed out to them that to-day’s parade created history for the School and Corps, in as much, the

Inspecting Officer was an AOB and the Officer commanding the parade (Major EC Eayrs) was also an

Old Boy. This combination has not happened before and is not likely to occur again for many years.

…my congratulations on the good state of the corps and the splendid way in which everyone pulls

together.

Yours faithfully

Marcus JS Dyson

Lieut-Col Commanding, 21st

London Regiment (First Surrey Rifles)’

At the 1935 Annual Inspection carried out by Col LM Gibbs DSO he spoke of ‘the supreme value of

the OTCs in the Great War, by providing men with some elementary military training, who could

officer the 1000s who came forward to serve.’ He warned that:

‘if a war was forced on us in the future, our small Regular Army would be inadequate, and the nation

would look to the OTCs for trained leaders. The OTC was thus an essential part of our Imperial

defence organisation.’404

Debate on OTC (1931)

One of the most hotly and well-attended School debates of the period had the motion that ‘… in the

opinion of this House the OTC should be abolished.’ The debate must have been one of the longest

on record – it lasted two and a quarter hours. The report of proceedings in the Magazine gives a

valuable insight into the way the boys at Alleyn’s felt and also reflected the current thinking of the

time. Mr Hutchinson (supporting the motion) pointed out that

‘the OTC gives direct vocational training in the art of killing. [Mr Hutchinson] challenged the opposer

to prove the existence at the present day of that military necessity which brought the OTC in to being;

rather, he said, the recent development of international co-operation was such as to warrant the

lowering of military forces.’

He also claimed that the ‘educational advantages claimed for the Corps might be gained apart from

such activities,’ e.g. discipline, was maintained in elementary schools without the help of the OTC.

He went on

‘the importance of the work of the OTC in training leaders had been exaggerated; the General Strike

had shown conclusively that men with public school training had little sympathy with the working

classes. The OTC was born in deceit and nourished in deception, for it showed cadets one of the

realities and none of the excesses of war.’

Opposing the motion, Mr Spring (CO of the OTC) stated

404 Ibid, July 1935, p215


103

‘A standing army and the Territorials were fundamentally necessary, and the function of the OTC in

training officers at the Universities and Public Schools was of vital importance. Nobody in his senses

supposed that such organisations as the League of Nations warranted complete disarmament.

Expenditure on armed forces was as vital to the nation’s security as were insurance premiums to the

householder’s…. He claimed that no organisation gave such opportunity for individual members to

develop the capacity for leadership as did the OTC….’

EE Young, seconding the proposal, pointed out that

‘Subordination was the mainspring of the Corps’ discipline, and the NCOs were no leaders, but

wielders of a stern authority. That “esprit de corps”… was solely derived from the fact that the Corps

was a School activity; boys feel bound to support any activity which bears upon the reputation of their

School.’

Young said that

‘boys were caught in the net of the Corps when they were very young, and were not allowed to leave

it even if they wished until they were in the Upper Sixth. The keenness of many cadets to pass the

Certificate “A” examination, moreover, indicated their desire to gain a position of petty authority

rather than their liking of the Corps itself.’

EH Gilmour, seconding Mr Spring, observed that ‘subordination was healthy in that it led to self-

control, and, when voluntarily undergone, developed qualities of self-sacrifice and service’. He

continued:

‘From the national point of view… [i.e. military cutbacks, the Ten-year rule] the OTC was an

economical source of security, removing the necessity for the maintenance of a large standing army.

Finally, he urged that the OTC created citizens with a sense of allegiance, co-operation and self-

discipline.’

The motion was passed by 33 votes to 25.405

Usefulness of OTC in war

Nearly all public schools had their own OTC. As can be gauged from the above debate, it was

assumed that in the event of war all students would be officers. Robert Young – who went on to see

much service during the war – in his memoire, wrote

‘The actual training done by the school OTC... was hopeless as a preparation for any war much after

the Crimean; but it did at least give you practice in taking stupid orders as well as intelligent ones, and

obeying both without question.’406

We asked our visitors whether they felt being in the OTC prepared them for the armed forces. One

replied that ‘the training in the OTC was basically how to march and how to keep in step but we

didn't really learn any major tactics. I can remember going on a summer camp and all we seemed to

do was sneak out at night to steal the flags or banners that some other unit had got.’ Another

405 Ibid, July 1931, p596-98



104

admitted that the OTC taught him how ‘to present arms, shoulder arms and even fire arms.’ David

Alexander added that

‘I felt that all the hours spent blancoing my heavy and out-dated WWI equipment (wide belt, pouches,

haversack and water-bottle) on a Thursday evening had been worthwhile. The last Field Day in the

summer of 1939 was a bit more serious (although it did not prevent us from singing our bawdy songs

about the deficiencies of Sergeant Hall’s wedding tackle on the way home in the train – very risqué!)

little did I realise that the training would serve me well in a few years time.’ 407

Outbreak of war

In 1939 the War Office cancelled all OTC Camps. It was a perfunctory announcement with no

elaboration.408 Indeed there hadn’t been any full report of the previous terms’ OTC activities – the

last formal report prior to the outbreak of war appeared in the October 1938 issue of the Magazine.

Towards the end of 1939, however, the editors write that ‘we learn on going to press that the OTC is

resuming work this week.’409 At Maidstone, after a shakey start following the evacuation, the OTC

began in earnest. The OTC report in the Magazine noted that the Cert “A” work ‘is considered by the

War Office to be increasingly important now’410 . Senior boys (and staff) started to put their OTC-

training into practice once the Local Defence Volunteer Patrols [the forerunner to the Home Guard]

began. The editors reported ‘every Wednesday night, a number of masters and boys have sacrificed

five hours sleep to safeguard the life and liberty of the population of Boxley’.411

407 Alexander, p27






105

WARTIME EVACUATION OF THE SCHOOL.

The majority of Alleyn’s pupils were evacuated from Dulwich during the war to avoid the dangers

posed by the Luftwaffe and the Magazine and our AOBs’ personal recollections reflect the confused,

chaotic picture as schools scrambled to get their pupils to places of greater safety.

Evacuation to Maidstone

Norman Spurden (Tulley’s, 1933–40) related, with some astonishment, that

‘at the beginning of the Second World War, we were evacuated to Kent – Kent of all places, when you

consider how it became a principal target of German bombers! We were moved, however, very soon

to Rossall School in the north where I completed my school education.’

The evacuation of Alleyn’s School straddles the period between the 1930s and ‘40s. Some of our

AOB guests went to one or other – or both – of the school’s evacuation destinations: Maidstone

(departed September 1939) and Rossall (departed January 1941).

There was much movement of boys at the outbreak of war. All usual structures were in disarray –

even the School shop adjusted the ways it operated: the shop promised that it ‘will give the best

possible service… The Manager visits Maidstone every Tuesday and Deal every Wednesday to take

orders.’ 412 After the move, the Fifty Club reported that ‘unhappily the minute-book had been lost in

the turmoil of evacuation, so that the events of previous meetings could not be recalled’.413

Arthur Chandler explained that:

‘On 2 September 1939, the School left West Dulwich station for an unknown destination which turned

out to be a group of villages around the Maidstone area. Boxley, Detling, Sandling and Weavering

were to be the homes of groups of boys for the next 16 months. The Junior School became known as

St Clare when it moved to Walmer and took over a preparatory school there for a short time.’414

Robert Young pitifully described Henderson’s approach to the evacuation in his memoire:



414 Chandler, p68

St Clare was a boys' boarding school for boys from 7 to 13 or 14 when they went on to Public School. It was entirely boarding except for the vicar's son Robin Tonks, who was allowed to come in daily. St Clare was in the big white house which is now converted into flats and is now known as Leelands. (Audrey West: Upper

Walmer in the 1920s and 1930s at http://www.walmerweb.co.uk/history/history-upperwalmer-

1920s-1930s.html last accessed 26.11.10)


106

‘The Headmaster, Mr Henderson – a great enemy of the Hun – took up residence in the Star and

Garter at Maidstone, but he was already beginning to lose interest and hope about the school he had

so lovingly built up.’415

Evacuation reports

The initial evacuation to Kent is reported extensively in the Magazine and bears reproducing in full

here:

‘Venimus

By Saturday the 2nd

of September, we sons of the Foundation, leaving our loved ones and much that

was too dear, had fled under the auspices of a solicitous government from one place to another: or

precisely, from there to here. But where, where was it expedient to flee? This was undoubtedly the

question: a question of which the answer was held in jealous custody. After considerable abortive

preparation, we strode forth, bag and baggage, with at the head a banner bearing the intriguing

device “H29”. Guided by the man who knew, we experienced for a few hours the bliss of government

efficiency. As our train trundled east, speculations were shattered. We came to Hollingbourne, as

large boards on the station informed us. We did not yet know that the promised land had yet to be

reached. We sojourned beneath part of the evacuation scheme to get our rations. Then we arrived in

earnest. We arrived in omnibuses: we arrived in many and in divers places: we arrived early and we

arrived late: we arrived with relief.’

Vidimus

‘In six weeks we have been through a lot. We have been welcomed: sometimes we have been

welcomed with reservations. For many of us life has been a matter of a billet and then a billet.

Witness the following couplet sent in by a harassed billetee:

“I’m billeted, I’m billeted, but where I cannot say:

I shall know early on in the afternoon whether I shall have been moved before next Saturday (or

not).”

…Because experience has been crowded and poignant, the way of a more ordered life in which we are

establishing ourselves is a relief. Yet already we detect a certain boredom ahead, and worse – a time

of mud and wet and cold in unfamiliar places….’

Evacuation

To be a refugee is grand –

if you are of the Boxley brand.

I’m more than satisfied to be

a Boxley-bound evacuee;

for it must be well understood

that Lenham is not half as good,

and tho’ the Sandling Group is big

it’s definitely infra dig.,

and none of the Alleyn’s corps elite



107

is to be found at Weavering Street,

and none but dubious souls are settling

among the wooded slopes of Detling…

But Boxley – ah! The very name

has music of a kind to tame

the wildest, the most urban breast.

We are indubitably blest

who’ve had the luck to pitch our tents

in Boxley’s fair circumference.

And that, without exaggeration,

covers (I think) the situation.

Anon.’416

Upon arrival in Kent, David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) described how he was immediately

separated from his younger brother, Sandy ‘whom I did not see again until the end of 1940.’ Mr

Alexander was

‘decanted with a dozen others at the village hall of Sandling… where we sat around awaiting

inspection by the billeting officer and selection by the local ladies who had agreed to take us into their

homes.

It was a bit like a cattle market and totally pot luck whether one was allocated to a welcoming

household or billeted with a family who were more anxious to receive the billeting allowance than

perform as substitute parents.’ 417

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) was one of the boys evacuated to Kent:

‘[when] war broke many of us departed for Maidstone where we went wild for a bit, I think. We did

manage some education in our first term; we shared some facilities with Maidstone Grammar School.

It was some time before we managed to take over a rather dilapidated school of our own in Albion

Place in Maidstone. I think that was about the time RB Henderson retired and Ralph Allison became

headmaster.’

Another Maidstone evacuee, Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) recalls that

‘Everyone was involved in World War II. We were evacuated to Maidstone and schooling was reduced

to two half days a week at the Maidstone Girls’ Grammar School (they having been evacuated up

north).’

In fact, Alleyn’s first shared premises with Maidstone Grammar School, having lessons in the

afternoons, but after a few months they moved in the buildings evacuated by Maidstone Girls’

School.418 The boys were billeted all over the area. Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) had to ‘walk or

cycle about four miles from Boxley, where I was billeted till July 1940’. The Magazine’s football

416 Magazine, November 1939, p283-4

417 Alexander, p38

418 Ibid, p39


108

report relayed that although ‘at the end of last term [at Alleyn’s] the prospects for the 1939–40

Football season, apart from political considerations, appeared as bright as usual…’ but that ‘with the

boys spread in groups over a wide area [around Kent], a very limited number of pitches available,

and [with] the removal of the Fourth forms to Walmer, it has only been possible, so far, to arrange

friendly games in the groups themselves, on the nearest pitches, and some Big-side trials on the

Maidstone Grammar School pitch.’419

Mr Alexander remembers

‘The air raid siren often disrupted our lessons and we were forced to continue classes in the air raid

shelters. We nearly had a major disaster when a Spitfire that had been shot down above us crashed

not a hundred yards up the road…’

The Junior School had its own nomadic Kentish lifestyle. ‘Owing to the lack of educational facilities,

the Junior School’s sojourn at Lenham was brief, and they are now satisfactorily, and we hope safely,

installed at Deal…. For the rest, it has been a time of working and waiting, of trench-digging and

time-wasting.’420

The Junior School reported its own evacuation in the Magazine:

‘Vox clamantis in deserto

We write far from the pleasant meads of Alleyn’s, whence we migrated on that memorable day,

September 2nd

, feeling much as the Pilgrim Fathers must have felt, setting out for an unknown

destination. With a sense of high adventure we marched to West Dulwich Station and detrained at

Hollingbourne, whence we were scattered abroad in Lenham and district. The groups were far apart

here, but we all received a kindly welcome from our temporary hosts. From the curiously named

hostelry, the ‘Who ‘D A Thought It’, in Grafty Green, where a number of our boys were billeted, to

Platt’s Heath and Lenham, our sojourn will ever remain in our minds as a pleasant and happy

interlude; but educational facilities were quite lacking, so off we all trekked again to Deal, where now

we are all housed in comfortable billets, and with the Fourth forms are following a modified

curriculum at St Clare School. Soon Houses will again strive in friendly rivalry and school life will be

more than a pale reflection of our erstwhile Paradise at Dulwich.’ 421

However, this paradise was quickly shattered when Germans started sowing mines along the coast

and began firing machine guns at Walmer pier: the Junior School upped sticks and left for Newport.

In spite of the uncertainty, one AOB, Mr Jessup remembered the Maidstone move fondly: ‘School

was on restricted time and we had a reduced number of exams. We had a very good time’. Ian

MacPherson (Roper’s, 1932–40) was in the Lower Sixth and found it to be a relaxing environment

with greater opportunity for freedom of action in courses of study: ‘One of the facts that I do

remember was patrolling the Pilgrims’ Way once a week to guard against German paratroopers,

armed with Lee Enfield .303s and six rounds of ammunition.’



421 Ibid, p265


109

Mr Jessup recalled working on ‘local farms in the summer holidays (for sixpence an hour). If we saw

bombers we dived into a ditch!’ The Battle of Britain raged overhead and the boys watched the

aerial circus and could see the airmen bailing out of their aeroplanes.

‘It became a regular pastime to bicycle up onto the Pilgrims’ Way and climb to the top of the ridge to

watch the battle as it unfolded in the skies above the Weald of Kent. The throbbing drone of the

formations of German bombers, the thump and burst of ack-ack fire, the smoke trails and whine of

attacking fighters as the dogfights developed overhead became familiar and exciting sights. We could

hear the chatter of the machine guns and witness the grisly end in smoke and flames, insulated from

the grim reality of what was going on.’422

Mr Alexander told how, when they saw an airman parachuting down, the boys would run to their

bikes and race to the place where the airman had landed. On one occasion they found a groaning

German who had fallen into a gravel pit,

‘where he had broken a leg on landing (or been shot) and was waving his arms in surrender. Our

bravado evaporated when we saw the pistol at his waist and we were content with the speedy arrival

of a detachment from the West Kents to shoo us away from the area.’

The boys would pick up shell cases and shrapnel from the fields as well as bits of aircraft as trophies

of war.

Henderson had taken the School to the ‘safety’ of mid-Kent and his work in Dulwich was completed.

In his final sermon to the School he said:

‘…you will not be content with anything short of the highest. You will strive to make this Alleyn’s even

greater and better, you will never rest content till it is known to you all to be in truth a corner of the

Kingdom of God.’423

It took Alleyn’s another 18 months to find and secure a place in a safer setting that would house all

the boys: in 1941 under a new Headmaster, all roads lead to the North West and a new home from

home at Rossall School where the next generation of schoolboys stayed for the duration.

422 Alexander, p40-1

423 Chandler, p68


110

AFTER ALLEYN’S

The careers that our 1930s’ vintage pupils embarked upon on leaving Alleyn’s were varied – from

joining the family business, to becoming a banker, architect, journalist, solicitor. However, all of their

chosen paths were interrupted by the war. Leslie Gosling (Brown’s, 1927–33) saw action in

practically all the theatres of the European war – he ‘was in the Desert Campaign, from before

Alamein to Tunis, more than 1,500 miles between the two. Then the landing at Salerno near Naples

to Cassino’. He was then taken out of the line at Monte Cassino, and brought back to England for the

Normandy landings, then went all the way to Berlin, ‘where my regiment led the Victory Parade.’

Douglas Fielder (Roper’s, 1930–36) also had an active war: ‘I wasn’t at the School during the

evacuation. I was in the Army – Territorial. I was called up and served right through to 1946 in France

and Italy, finishing in Berlin. I was 20 when I was called up.’

Others spent their time waiting to see action and found themselves time pen-pushing, for example,

Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39) who ‘didn’t go into the Army ‘til I was 18 in 1942. I spent 4½

years in various army units. I was involved in recruiting with the personnel selection staff in

Whitehall after the war ended. I enjoyed it but didn’t do anything very exciting or distinguished.’

Kenneth Hovey (Cribb’s, 1933–39) was called up in 1942 and was selected for the Royal Air Force

and aircrew duties ‘but there obviously was a bit of backlog and they did not need my services. I was

deferred for two years and I joined the ATC [Air Training Corps] and trained with them for two

years’, where he did ‘fire-watching at the London City offices’.

Leaving Alleyn’s

The men left Alleyn’s at varying ages, from 16½-18424. John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39) remembered

winning a prize but felt it was only because others had left before him:

‘I think the only reason I won it was because you had to be a pupil in the School and some of the more

able boys would have got it but they had left after their fifth year and I was still in the Lower Sixth so I

was the best of the survivors.’

Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) explained how the exam stages have changed since 1938: ‘two

years after Matric we sat Higher School Certificate – two main subjects, two subsidiary subjects. To

get the Certificate we had to pass in both main subjects and at least one subsidiary.’ David Alexander

(Brading’s, 1933–42) took his School Certificate at age 14.

The London County Council inspection report of 1938 lists the destinations of boys who went onto

other types of schools in the preceding three years:

Junior Technical Schools 20

Senior Technical Schools 6

Other Secondary Schools 6

Training Colleges 16

424 In the Board of Education’s Inspection Report (1932) into Alleyn’s, the inspectors calculated that the

average leaving age of the boys was ‘17 years 4 months’ (p2). By 1938, the LCC inspectors reported that the

average leaving age was 17 (p3).


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Universities 16

Other types of institutions:

Guy’s Hospital and other medical schools 9 425

Help with finding jobs

The war years affected all organisations. As Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) explained, ‘you didn’t

know how long the war would last’ and that the ‘Depression made getting a job very important.’ Mr

Jessup

‘left School and went into a city firm having followed up an approach by an AOB working in the City

who had written to the School saying that he had two vacancies available. Because war was on and

[there was] no knowledge of what might happen, [I was] persuaded to apply and spent two years in

an insurance office.’

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933–39) found help with finding employment through another route: the

Headmasters’ Conference employment clearing house in Tothill Street, Victoria, where ’youngsters

like myself sought employment with reputable companies.’ Mr Hawkins remembers how, ‘in the

early summer of 1939 my father, in light of mock exam results, decided that I should terminate my

studies at Alleyn’s at the end of that term.’ At the clearing house the ‘youngsters’

‘were given the opportunity to respond to verbal announcements of job opportunities and I opted for

the Anglo America Oil Co along with 11 other aspirants. After maths and English tests, followed by an

interview, I got the one job on offer, and joined the company on 3 August, 1939, just one month

before war broke out (which my father had predicted one year before). Anglo became Esso and today

is known as Exxon Mobil. I retired in 1982 in my 60th

year after a long and happy career.’

Royal Air Force

Men who served in the air forces were lauded by the public as heroes. Young men joining up

dreamed of becoming a pilot and earning public acclaim; however, life-expectancy for a pilot in the

Second World War was low – at times four to five weeks. It is therefore not surprising to find that

the vast majority of AOB casualties served in the RAF. Several of our AOB contributors joined the air

forces.

From studying at the London School of Economics, Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937–39) ‘went on into

the RAF. We were evacuated into Cambridge and I was in the Cambridge University Air squadron so

that got me pride of place as it were.’ Given the short life-expectancy of pilots, Brian Beattie

(Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) defied the odds by being ‘a pilot in the RAF for six years, so I was one of the

lucky ones’. Mr Hawkins:

‘volunteered for aircrew and joined the RAF in 1942 and after training in South Africa flew as a

navigator in High Fighter, Intruder and Pathfinder squadrons. At one station (AOB) Wing Commander

425 Report by the London County Council’s Inspectors of a full inspection held on 14th to 18th March, 1938 at

Alleyn’s School (Dulwich) p3


112

Jim Benson DSO, DFC – an ace night fighter was my CO.’

Mr Jessup was less fortunate [or fortunate, depending on your take on it]. He was prevented from

‘being accepted for aircrew – very upsetting for a keen flight sergeant in the ATC’ because of an ear

problem, but took a ground staff position: ‘I enjoyed my four years especially with Four Group

Bomber Command.’

David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931–39) was called up in 1941. He

‘did nine or ten months in the Royal Air Force and was supposed to be an expert in radio location.

After this the Army – in its wisdom – decided that the Air Force had too many radio experts and so a

number of us were transferred to the Army, where we took on the ack-ack radar and search-light

radar and I did that for a while. Eventually, somehow, I got a posting to India and took a commission

in India, went into the Indian Army and eventually found myself in Java at the end of the war in

August 1945. I did six months in Java, fighting after the war was over. I left there in about March 1946

and eventually I was demobbed in August or September ‘46.’

Royal Navy

John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934–39) saw service at sea. He enlisted in the RNVR in 1941 and spent five

years in the RN, ‘of which almost three years in the Mediterranean serving in destroyers and smaller

ships. I was discharged in 1947 as a lieutenant RNVR. After emigrating to Canada in 1948, I served in

the Royal Canadian Navy Reserve.’

Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) reckoned that:

‘had I done a naval course I would have got a commission straightaway and would have no doubt

ended up taking part in the D-day landings. As it was, not being interested in square-bashing, I had to

join up with “the scum of the earth” as they used to call them – Fleetwood fisherman and such at

HMS Ganges. I decided then that rather going on capital ships – for me the equivalent of square-

bashing – instead I would go on the smallest ones possible and so I did the necessary courses to go on

torpedo boats, where I was a Navigating Officer in Ken Gemmel’s D-Boats. We used to go over to the

Hook of Holland every night, shooting up flat trawlers and minesweepers which Ken – who raced with

the Germans before the war –considered a very good sporting exercise. Anyway, that went on for six

months; after that I went to motor launches and I did a patrol of the River Elbe from Cuxhaven to

Hamburg. We were supposed to be stopping people from escaping from the East to the West, which

we were not keen to do.’

Ian MacPherson (Roper’s, 1932–40) wrote in with his memories of this period. He left Alleyn’s

‘in the summer of 1940 and joined Layton Bennet, chartered accountants in the City, and had the

pleasure of being there during the Blitz, leaving in March 1941 to volunteer for training as a radio

officer in the Merchant Navy. I was at sea from October 1941 to October 1946 with voyages in the

North and South Atlantic, the Indian Ocean, Bay of Bengal, Arctic and Mediterranean. Despite being

chased by a Japanese battle fleet from Madras round to Bombay and participating in an Arctic convoy

to Murmansk and the White Sea I was very lucky not to be torpedoed.

From a scholastic point of view, having failed my General Schools Latin, courtesy of London University

I was able to successfully re-take it in Molotovsk on the White Sea in 1943.’


113

Protecting the home front

After leaving Alleyn’s, Tom Bamford (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) went into the family business until he

was called up. Prior to being called up he was in the Home Guard, a regiment, in Mr Bamford’s

words, ‘composed mainly of older men from the first war and Private Pikes like me’. When he was

defending the Home Front in SE21, Mr Bamford recalls that:

‘on Dulwich Common, where the golf course now is, there was an ack-ack Battery and attached to

that was a Rocket Battery and the Home Guard were in charge of that. All of the time I was there, we

manned the guns every night and we never fired in anger. I went into the First Army in North Africa

and Italy and after the war came back to the family business.’

Leslie Jones (Cribb’s, 1922–29) spent time in the Civil Defence in Dulwich at the beginning of the

war; his daughter remembers him telling her that ‘two bombs had landed on the cricket pitch, and a

barrage balloon which came down in the field beside the School had draped itself over the adjoining

houses’.

Bletchley

Other AOBs worked for intelligence – or at least in Bernard Gildersleve’s (Brown’s, 1935–40) case,

the delivering of decoded messages. He worked:

‘in the Special Communications Units (SCU) of the Royal Corps of Signals at Whaddon, Bletchley,

Buckinghamshire…. Although we had to sign a declaration of acceptance of the terms of the Official

Secrets Act, I did not know then what I have learnt since. I was trained as a wireless operator and had

to be fully competent in sending and receiving morse.

We did not know for many years about the Bletchley Park codebreakers. They, of course, did a

wonderful job, but somebody had to deliver the deciphered German Enigma messages to the people

who needed them with the greatest urgency and under total security, namely the commanders at the

front. That was one of the jobs of the SCUs and I was posted to a forward station serving the US 9th

Tactical Air Command (TAC). Our small group (four operators, two drivers under the supervision of a

Company Quartermaster Sergeant drove with our vehicles onto a landing craft at Southampton and

crossed the Channel to land on Utah beach which was mercifully quiet. The US 9th

TAC was giving

tactical air support for the US 1st

Army advancing through Belgium and into Germany and we followed

closely behind, receiving hundreds of messages, the origins of which were unknown to us. Life was

not without its moments, particularly during von Rundstedt’s Ardennes offensive (the ‘Battle of the

Bulge’).

By VE Day we had reached Weimar when the messages ceased and we were sent back to the UK,

ostensibly on a Far East draft. We had a few weeks of ‘toughening up’, were taught a little colloquial

Hindustani, were lectured on tropical diseases and given yellow fever inoculations when half a dozen

of us were called out and flown back to Germany to serve on one-man outstations with MI6 officers

and agents. This meant that, in addition to keeping our regular wireless schedules, we carried out

other varied duties, some of them very secret indeed. However, we lived in considerable comfort in

furnished houses, with German staff to cook and clean for us.


114

It was about 30 years before the Bletchley Park story began to be told, and although I had never

heard of Bletchley Park, despite having been close to it at times in Bletchley, it not until then that the

penny really began to drop and I realised why we had to remain tongue-tied for so long.’426

Long Range Desert Group

Mr Gosling provided information about a fellow pupil and friend who was a member of the Long

Range Desert Group (LRDG). There was:

‘a chap in Brown’s with me in the early Thirties named Dennis Weldon… He died relatively young, and

later, when clearing his effects, his wife found in the bottom of a wardrobe, a diary that she had not

previously learned of. It was an account of a raid behind enemy lines in the desert, when he was a

member of the LRDG (Long Range Desert Group), a dare devil group formed from volunteers and,

then, hand-picked. Their role was to infiltrate hundreds of miles behind German lines and report on

dispositions and petrol and ration dumps. They travelled mostly in Jeeps with twin Vickers machine

guns mounted on the bonnet, carrying a large reserve of petrol. They were chased assiduously by the

Luftwaffe, but were absolutely on their own, without back up. Very hazardous.

I have a copy of Dennis’s account of one such raid in which he took part. It is quite incredible. His

patrol was shot up by German fighter aircraft, had casualties, their transport knocked out, and

commenced to make it back to our lines on foot. They could not possibly have done so, with daytime

temperatures over 100, freezing at night, and very little water. They were doomed. But by a miracle

they were rescued by a patrol of Popski`s Private Army. I don`t suppose you have heard of this

individual, he was a Polish nobleman, a colonel in the Polish army, but attached to the British forces in

the desert427

. He commanded a similar organisation to our SAS and acted behind the enemy lines in

the same way.’

Monte Cassino

Our AOBs were often at the frontline fighting. Norman Spurdens (Tulley’s, 1933–40) became an

officer in the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry and was drafted to North Africa ‘where I joined the

2nd Battalion of the Regiment. Thence to Italy, where we worked our way northwards to Cassino, to

the east of which was a strongly fortified monastery, occupied by the German Panzer Grenadiers.’

Whilst Mr Gosling was being pulled out of the Monte Cassino line to prepare for Normandy, Mr

Spurdens’s regiment:

‘managed to overcome the Grenadiers and in this action I was rather badly wounded. I was evacuated

by ‘plane to a Naples hospital, where I spent some time recovering and convalescing, before rejoining

my regiment in Greece. At about this time I received news that I had been awarded the MC.’

426See also The Secret Wireless War by Geoffrey Pidgeon, UPSO (Universal Publishing Solutions Online) Ltd, 11

November, 2003

427 The No 1 Demolition Squadron, PPA or as better known Popski's Private Army, was a unit of British Special

Forces founded in Cairo in 1942 by Major (later Lieutenant-Colonel) Vladimir Peniakoff DSO MC. Popski's

Private Army was one of several raiding units formed in the Western Desert during the Second World War.

They also served in Italy and the Adriatic before they were disbanded in September 1945.


115

Far East & India

Douglas Smith (Roper’s, 1934–35) saw action in India and the Far East. He said ‘my personal

experience of going to India and Burma was tough. We had to work as a team to survive’. Henry

Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) also served in the Far East in the RAF. He was turned down for air crew

because of his poor eye sight but ‘I realise now it saved my life’. He worked as ‘a radio telephony

operator on No 135 squadron, serving in Burma, India and Ceylon for four years with rank of leading

aircraftman’.

John Shea (Dutton’s, 1935–39) enlisted in the Royal Corps of Signals and ‘got a commission in the Indian Army (Frontier Force Regiment stationed in Sialkot in the Punjab). I served in Burma, Sumatra and India until July 1947’.

Mr Gosling tells of two contemporaries who saw service in the Far East. The first, RJ Clark ‘was a

member of the Burma Rifles, a small scratch force. As very large Jap formations approached they

had orders to make their way as best they could to India. Ron walked 1,000 miles.’ The second,

‘a survivor of the Jap POW camps was Murray Melville. It would have been about the middle of 1946,

when I saw Murray trudging slowly towards me in Forest Hill, he had recently been repatriated. I

don’t know how he had the strength to walk. He was a skeleton covered in skin. [He had] very little

flesh, but very lucky to have survived, so many succumbed.’

Mr Alexander ‘served for three-and-a-half years in the Royal Engineers, [and] was seconded to the

Indian Army in July 1944 and joined the Bengal Sappers and Miners for the next two-and-a-half

years. I eventually ended up commanding their Crack Field Company (how, I don’t know, just

because other senior officers were demobilised, I think) and I came back to England on an

accelerated release in September 1946, before Partition, so I was spared all the horrors of taking

convoys across the Punjab.’

Call-up papers arrived for Mr Bate in 1942 and he went into Op 2 commission. After a couple of

years he was posted to India. ‘Anybody who went to India didn’t know what would happen – you

might get lost in the machinery and well, I think I got lost in the machinery and spent two years in

India.’

Chance wartime meetings of AOBs

Amazingly, given the vastness of the Second World War arena, there were some chance meetings

between AOBs. At the reunion, Mr Gibson reminded Mr Bate about ‘a mutual friend, JC Griffiths. He

lived with his grandmother in West Norwood, beyond Croxted Road and wanted to join the Army.

He returned to England from India on the same troopship as I did. He was a lieutenant colonel and

had served behind Japanese lines in Burma. I recall he looked strained.’

Mr Bull remembered meeting up with Raymond Medwin (Spurgeon’s, 1932–42), a navigator in the

Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve: he ‘was stationed with me at Harrogate. We were both on a map-

reading course. He and his pilot crashed and both were killed’ in 1944. Medwin was aged 21. His

name is listed on the School’s War Honours Boards.


116

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934–43) met up with AOB Frank Stacey ‘on the train from Gaza to

Alexandria in August 1946, both on our way to the UK for demobilisation from the army. We parted

some weeks later at Dover Castle and resumed our studies after a long gap.’

Denys Carden (Brading’s, 1932–39) never thought he would see his School Captain again. He

explained

‘the School Captain, Basil Rowley, left Alleyn’s at the same time as me…. When I joined up I went to

Skegness for training and then I got a ship up to Scapa Flow. When I was on this ship, who should

come on board at that time, checking on the radar, but Basil Rowley? I couldn’t believe it!’

There was even one instance of where one AOB came to the aid of the other in combat. In 1942

Harold Pettinger’s (Roper’s, 1932–38) battalion moved to India:

‘There was a lot of rioting in India at that time and my unit was deployed in aid of the Civil Power in

central India. One day I was ordered to go to a town where there had been very serious rioting and to

relieve a group of Indian police whose police station had been set on fire and who had retreated to

the railway station. I took my company to this station where the police were under siege. The mob

dispersed on our arrival and I went along the platform to be greeted by the British officer in charge.

He greeted me with the words “Pettinger, thank God you’re here!” His name was [Claude] Clerici who

was at School with me and played in the same football team. I never saw him again and I don’t know

whether he survived the war.’428

428 It is to be hoped and supposed that he did survive – there is no Claude Clerici listed on the Commonwealth

War Graves Commission’s database which lists the armed forces’ and civilian deaths of the Second World War.


117

IMPRESSIONS OF ALLEYN’S TODAY

‘I would like to be a pupil today.’ Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40)

One of the most fascinating aspects of the visit of our distinguished AOBs back to School for both our

current pupil interviewers and the AOBs themselves was their immediate impressions of each other

and the School they attended and attend today. Was Alleyn’s with all its changes still the School they

recognised, were the boys of the 1930s recognisable to our current pupils as ‘Alleyn’s types’?

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935–40) wondered whether, as ‘Alleyn’s is now the leading co-educational

school in London, and probably far beyond… the old style scholarship boy would get into Alleyn’s

today?’

Change is inevitable. As we have seen, while some things remain, such as buildings and bus numbers

[12 & 37], as Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930–38) said, ‘[Alleyn’s] is not as it was: there have been

so many additions to the facilities, new buildings in the past 80 years that it’s a different place,

probably even better than it was pre-war.’

Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935–40) wrote of his visit to Alleyn’s that

‘it was fascinating to see all the new buildings and extensions that have taken place – it is a truly great

school. We thought that we were privileged and I am sure the current generation think so too.

Everyone we saw looked bright and animated; there was a buzz about the place – a great sign.’

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933–42) thought that Alleyn’s today is

‘such a marvellous group of buildings and a wonderful collection of people too: staff and pupils. The

pupils here are responsive and charming – if I may say so without undue flattery – and I certainly

thoroughly enjoyed their company today. I certainly am envious of the wonderful facilities that you

have here, particularly the theatre and the music school – they are obviously out of the top-drawer! I

greatly envy you being able to perform on such a wonderful stage, in such a wonderful auditorium. So

many things have changed it seems almost impossible to bring my impressions together. I was sorry

to see the old cricket pavilion go, but it must have been in such a dreadfully crumbly condition when

it was dispatched! It’s a nice new building and well-architected, but I spent much of my time changing

in those cramped changing-rooms on the upper floors. An awful old pavilion, but it did have

character.’

A past President of the Edward Alleyn Club Tom Bamford (Spurgeon’s, 1932–38) admitted that he

had

‘never really lost contact with the school! But today is the first day I’ve been back to see the new

School buildings and I am most impressed. You don’t know how lucky you are to have the School as it

is now. The one thing I do miss is the elm trees. The site doesn’t look quite the same without them

[others agreed, nodding], but you’ve got a School to be proud of and I must say that all the pupils I’ve

come in contact with today – you are a credit to Alleyn’s and you should keep it up.’


118

Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931–41) was taken with

‘the enormous difference between the boys’ school I knew and this mixed school now. When I meet

my son who is 15 and goes here now, they’re all so enthusiastic and happy looking and good-looking

on the whole, I tell you! I think it’s absolutely wonderful. Whether the Rolls-Royce, computerised

music department is going to produce the very best musicians I don’t know. All this modern,

synthesiser-type stuff that goes on these days is so different from the world I was brought up in.

Mozart didn’t need all this! Just some paper and it all happens in one’s head – one does wonder

whether they’re going in the right direction. But after all, they’re all going to earn a good living in

whatever they do in their music life, because it’s not the Mozart stuff that’s going to sell – it never

did! … But anyway, the whole point is that aesthetically the School is very good, the new buildings are

excellent and it is most certainly a very happy place.’

David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931–39) thought that ‘the buildings are fantastic – in particular I can pick

out the concert hall [Edward Alleyn Building]. Everything seems so clean and bright and everybody

seems to be smiling. Sitting at lunch, everybody was smiling at each other! It’s a wonderful

atmosphere. I am absolutely most impressed.’

In terms of differences between the Alleyn’s of the 1930s and of today, Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s,

1933–39) thought ‘it seems noisier but it’s also a lot friendlier – I’d say a little bit more relaxed’

[murmurs of agreement].

Happily, Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932–39) reported that the School today is

‘certainly extremely removed from any memories I have of the days when I was here – particularly

structurally, although the borders – down from the grounds over Townley Road and the main playing

fields – are all very much the same. And of course the infiltration of the girls makes a difference to the

whole climate of the place. I would say it is, appears to be, very much more efficiently managed than

it would have been in my day. When I was here it was quite well organised but it seems all very much

on a higher plane of performance than it was in the 1930s.’

John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932–39), conceded that:

‘My lasting memory is mainly sunny, but there were dark clouds. As I grew older, the feeling of

privilege grew and I was delighted when Alleyn’s School became co-educational and became an

acknowledged and valued member of a group of three first class schools. I only wish that such quality

was available throughout the world of secondary education.’

And I leave the last wise words to John McAnuff (Tulley’s, 1936–43) who was keen to let our pupil

interviewers know that:

‘one’s attachment to the School grows over the years. I wasn’t expecting this but as I get older, I get

to be more and more sentimental about my School and think fondly of it and to revere it and to

recognise how very distinguished it is and what a lot of distinction it is producing – not only in theatre

and music, but in sport and other directions. Alleyn’s has probably put itself on the map more firmly

today than ever before. What I want to emphasise is how much [Alleyn’s] has grown in one’s heart

over the years, in a way that almost nothing else has: one’s job, one’s employer, one’s College…. Of

course, you stay at school far longer than you’re at College, generally speaking, but there’s something

about school. It’s so much more formative than any other influence in your life, so I would beseech


119

the young people we are with and all the young people in the School, to make the most of it so that

you have much more to look back on and to say to yourself “I was lucky”.’


120

APPENDIX 1: CONTRIBUTORS TO 1930s MEMORIES PROJECT

Guests at reunion held

2 March, 2010

Alleyn Old Boys (AOBs)

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933-42)

Tom Bamford (Spurgeon’s, 1932-38)

John Bate (Tulley’s, 1932-39)

Denys Carden (Brading’s, 1932-39)

Dudley Ferdinando (Brading’s, 1932-39)

Douglas Fielder (Roper’s, 1930-36)

Dennis Fowler (Tyson’s, 1933-39)

Laurence Garrett (Junior School, 1936-40)

David Gibson (Dutton’s, 1931-39)

Leslie Gosling (Brown’s, 1927-33)

Kenneth Hovey (Cribb’s, 1933-39)

Charles Jessup (Roper’s, 1935-40)

John McAnuff (Tulley’s, 1936-43)

Harold Pettinger (Roper’s, 1932-38)

Peter Philpott (Brading’s, 1934-43)

Rodney Scrase (Tyson’s, 1937-39)

Douglas Smith (Roper’s, 1934-35)

Anthony Tunstall (Brading’s, 1931-41)

Edward Wickes (Brown’s, 1933-39)

Staff

Colin Diggory, Headmaster

Antony Faccinello, Senior Deputy Head

Jon Lilly, Deputy Head

David Harley, Head of History

Gillian Silver, Head of English

Anthony Buckley, School Chaplain

Susie Schofield, Head of Alumni Relations

David Young, Director of Development

Martha Jones, Development Office Assistant

Facilitators

Neil French, President, EAC, & Honorary

Archivist (Cribb’s, 1954-61)

David Hankin, Vice President, EAC,

(Spurgeon’s, 1971-78)

Robert Holden, Assistant Archivist

(Spurgeon’s, 1956-62)

Year 12 interviewers

Shadi Brazell (Brown’s)

Georgia Butterworth (Brown’s)

Sophie Collis (Brown’s)

Mary Hamilton (Tulley’s)

Grace Maher (Roper’s)

Jo Marshall (Tulley’s)

Peter Morton (Dutton’s)

Year 9 interviewers

Rosie Cope (Cribb’s)

Bethan Evans (Tyson’s)

Haroun Hameed, (Spurgeon’s)

Lottie Schofield (Tyson’s)

Robert Stutter (Brown’s)

Conor Tottenham (Cribb’s)

Alex West (Brading’s)

Harry White (Roper’s)

Contributors to project

Submitted written accounts

David Alexander (Brading’s, 1933-42)

Brian Beattie (Spurgeon’s, 1930-38)

Roy Bull (Spurgeon’s, 1932-38)

John Burman (Tulley’s, 1934-39)

Bernard Gildersleve (Brown’s, 1935-40)

Sidney Giles (Brown’s, 1933-42)

Ted Hawkins (Cribb’s, 1933-39)

Roger Howard (Brading’s, 1933-40)

Leslie Jones (Cribb’s, 1922-29)

Desmond Lewis (Tulley’s, 1939-46)

Ian Macpherson (Roper’s, 1932-40)

Brian O’Brien (Roper’s, 1935-39)

John Shea (Dutton’s, 1935-39)

Norman Spurdens (Tulley’s, 1933-40)

Henry Tilley (Roper’s, 1935-40)

Pictures, memorabilia

Dudley Fernando (Brading’s, 1932-39)

Simon GIllate

Percy Fisher


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APPENDIX 2:

Professions of 1930s Dutton’s boys’ parents

Shops/commerce

Tobaccanist & confectioner

Millinery Dept, Bon Marche (mother)

Dispenser

Chemist

Tea broker

Butcher x 2

MD, De Graves Short & Co (manufacturers of

weighing apparatus)

Private secretary for bookseller (mother)

Upholstery manufacturer, Angel Road, Brixton

Manager, Export Dept, Doulton’s

British American Tobacco Co

Carpet salesman

Merchant (Woolworth’s)

Manufacturer, leather goods

Buyer, S American Trade

Assistant, groceries & provisions, Wakefield, W

Dulwich

Draper

Manager, Keith Prowse, New Bond Street branch

Manager, mechanical cleaning service

Dressmaker/tailor x 3

Stores manager

Sales manager, textile warehouse

Assistant warehouse keeper, Port of London

Authority (2 sons)

Works manager

Sub-superintendant of Stove Shop, South

Suburban Gas Co

Carpenter & upholsterer

Electrical wholesaler

Confectioner (3 sons)

Government

Inspector of Customs & Excise x 6

Civil servant x 2

Police officer x 2

Rate collector (Lambeth)

Fire superintendant

Arts

Photographer

Jeweller & watchmaker x 2

Commercial artist

Watermark-maker

Artist & designer x 2

Finance & banks

Clerk x 6

Accountant x 2

Stock exchange

Auditor

Foreign banking

Insurance clerk

Shipbroker

Cashier (paper merchants)

Paymaster LPTB

Trade

Electrician

Sheet metal worker (2 sons)

Machinist (mother)

Education

Schoolmaster x 2

Printing

Compositor x 2 (1 for Times)

Printer

Bookbinder and/or gold blocker (x2)

Engineering

Motor works manager

‘Employed in gas works’

Engineer (one India) x 5

Transport

Railway porter

Coach builder


122

Bus driver, LGOC

Railway porter – then promoted to guard with

next son (2 sons)

Post office

Sorter x 3

Telegraphist

Other

Advertiser

Manufacturer’s agent

General manager, EMG (Handmade Gramophones

Ltd)

Commercial traveller x 7

Collector traveller x 4

Removal contractor

Estate agent

Architect & surveyor

‘Domestic work’ – mother

Solicitor’s managing clerk for Worshipful Co of

Needlemakers

Registrar x 2


123

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Alexander, D Something of a Life, David Alexander, Blackheath, 2007

Board of Education Report of Inspection of Alleyn’s School, Dulwich, Camberwell, London. Held

on 25th

, 26th

, 27th

and 28th

October, 1932; includes minutes from a

conference meeting between Alleyn’s Governing Body and Board of

Education inspectors

Chandler, AR Alleyn’s: The Co-educational School, Gresham Books, 1998

Edward Alleyn Magazine, March 1930-November 1939

Leinster-Mackay, D Alleyn’s and Rossall Schools: The Second World War, Experience and Status,

Tantalus Press, 2nd ed, 2006

London County Council Report by the Council’s Inspectors of a full inspection held on 14th

to 18th

March, 1938 at Alleyn’s School (Dulwich)

Marr, A The Making of Modern Britain from Queen Victoria to VE Day, Macmillan,

London, 2009

Miles, S (Ed) Drama & Music: The Performing Arts at Alleyn’s, Alleyn’s School, 2009

Pearce, R Contemporary Britain, 1914-79, Longman, 1996

Piggott, J Dulwich College: A History 1616-2008, Dulwich College, London, 2008

Young, R Before I Forget, privately published, Oxford, 1990


124

Acknowledgements

In addition to thanking the contributors to the 1930s research, it is a pleasure to record my thanks to

individuals who have helped me in the compilation of this memoire:

To Professor Donald Leinster-Mackay for his helpful comments on the Headmaster chapter and

allowing me to quote from his monograph Alleyn’s and Rossall Schools: The Second World War,

Experience and Status; to Mr David Alexander for answering my queries about Alleyn’s in the 1930s

as well as permitting me to quote extensively from his own published memoirs Something of a Life.

To Mr Neil French, Honorary Archivist at Alleyn’s, for his unflagging patience in answering all my

random Alleyn’s questions, and his forbearance in permitting me overly long-term loan of

documents from the School’s Archives. To the Revd Anthony Buckley for being a readily-available

and kind sounding board for unknotting some of my historical and educational assumptions, and to

Mr Michael Bush for lending me background reading for the era. To Ms Sue Miles, pithy proof-reader

par excellence, I owe a legion of thanks for spotting blunders and howlers. To Mrs Vivienne Thurlow

for overseeing the printing of the final document.

To my father, Mr Alan Tucker, whose astonishing recall of the 1930s became my instant key to

unlocking some of the more esoteric 1930s’ references.

We were very fortunate to have not one but two headmasters at Alleyn’s who gave their support to

the oral history project. To Dr Colin Diggory I owe thanks for giving the project his blessing and

support from the start; and to his successor, Dr Gary Savage, I thank for his enthusiasm and curiosity

about the 1930s as well as his enhancement of the final text by dint of his professional historian’s

blue pencil.

I am immensely fortunate to work with two such excellent, can-do colleagues in the Development &

Alumni Office: Mr David Young and Mrs Martha Jones. To David, I am grateful for our parrying

discussions and crossed pens on the 1930s: he discovered and shared many gems, unveiled the

mysteries of how-to-create Microsoft footnotes and doggedly edited the copy from the start. And I

owe a debt of gratitude to Martha for her tireless support, common sense and enviable ability to

tackle all matters technical and photographic.

Between them they have kept the other many and varied projects on track whilst I have been

wallowing in my 1930s Bakelite ivory tower, pondering Henderson, Hitler and history.

All mistakes and assumptions must be assigned to me.

Susannah Schofield

January 2011


125

Alleyn’s steeplechase - Don Gillate

Roper’s House, Alleyn’s


126

Cricket 1st XI, 1939

Back row (L-R): Johnny Murraille, Colin Lyon, Sid Hill, John Burman, Peter Nolan, Ron Stevens

First row (L-R): Peter Noakes, L Alexander, Barry Smith (Capt), 'Mossy Keach', Peter Sage

‘A crowd after Norman bought a camera’

(Photo: Denys Carden)


127

‘A crowd going over to Boulogne on the Isle of Thanet’


‘A crowd on Boulogne bridge’


‘Mr Cooke at the entrance to our hotel’



128

‘A group’ [Edwards, Carden, Turner, Pegram]


’Going over to Boulogne’

Top row: Rumble, Brown, Jenner,

Aldcroft, Sane, Walker

Bottom row: Blackwell, Edwards,

Hovey, Craven, Manning



129

‘Our Crowd’


‘


130

Alleyn’s OTC band marching by JAGS, c 1935

(Photo: Roy Bull)

Roy Bull, drummer in Alleyn’s OTC

(Photo: Roy Bull)


131

Alleyn's School OTC Drum and Bugle Band 1934. Roy Bull front row second from right.

(Photo: Roy Bull)

Cadet training camp, Tidworth, 1937


132

Guard mounting competition, OTC Tidworth Camp, 1937

Guard mounting competition, OTC Tidworth Camp, 1937


133

Photos from the 1930s Memories Day Reunion: 2 March 2101

‘Floreat Alleyna! ‘


134


135


136


137

Our Alleyn Old Boys, pupil-interviewers and staff on the Memories Day Reunion

Edward Alleyn Building, Alleyn’s School

2 March 2010

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