Paul Williams (M 48-58)

Sam Ashton (SH 47-53) recalls:

“I arrived at St Bees, aged twelve, for the autumn term of 1947. After one term on Eaglesfield I was posted to School House. Soon after my arrival, and with all other new boys, I was subjected to a singing test. Having demonstrated that I wasn’t tone deaf, I was recruited into the choir. This was no great distinction; the choir stalls had to be filled otherwise there would have been insufficient space in the nave of the chapel for the rest of the school! Biennially there was a Gilbert and Sullivan production; I must have volunteered or been press-ganged into the female chorus for the Yeomen of the Guard. This was a period when the teaching staff was being much enlivened by the influx of demobilised servicemen. All these men had, in common, approachability; they were man to man. A.N.R. ‘Tony’ Dearle was one such, and possessing an impressive tenor voice, took the part of Colonel Fairfax. Another was Paul. He assisted each Wednesday in uniform, with the ‘Corps’, the CCF contingent. This then had relevance, for we all knew that after our time at school we would be called up for national service.

Paul, with his stooping gait and non-regimental hairdo, had a distinct lack of military bearing, not only that, he wore his beret towards the back of his head, thus ignoring the stricture: ‘Beret to be worn with cap badge one inch above the left eye’. However, and well remembered, was his advice to maximise the shine on one’s boots: ‘Always finish off with a soft brush’. Thus, I still have mine; it came with me through national service and beyond. (Others in the ex-army contingent were Philip ‘Percy’ Lever, ex-Airborne, he had landed at Arnhem in a glider; Sam Parkinson, Harry Judge, and Brian Crowther.)

With the passage of time I no longer remember the exact sequence of drama productions in which I was directed by Paul. However I have a clear image of his first intervention during rehearsal. The stage was at one end of ‘Big School’; a double length class room (halved by a sliding partition), the far half featuring a cascade of long shallow steps.

The entire cast was on stage (it was probably a rehearsal of the ‘Yeomen’), when suddenly Paul ran from the back, down the steps shouting ‘Cut !’ in the best Hollywood manner. It made quite an impact. Two years after that, in 1951, we did ‘The Mikado’. I was cast as one of the ‘Three Little Maids’, but as my voice was breaking, back I went into the chorus.

By this time there was emerging in the school a culture change. Hitherto our chapel services were not-too-high Anglican, but the established religion was rugger. In 1951 one James C. Wykes, was appointed Headmaster, a musician, his instrument, the oboe. (He was also a cricketer having played for Scotland.)  Not only that: whereas we hitherto had had a music master, doubling as chapel organist and choir master, we now had appointed a Director of Music in the person of Donald Leggatt. He re-invigorated the school orchestra, (J.C.W. on oboe). Those of us in the choir now became choristers: he took us by the scruffs of our necks and trained us. He and Paul between them propelled our G and S productions up to a new standard; and Paul expanded ‘drama’. In between whiles, and in no particular order, I was directed as Banquo in ‘Macbeth’; Peter Quince in ‘The Rustics’ from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’; and Maria in ‘The Undoing of Malvoleo’. Bryan Pringle brilliantly played the principal part, while Olivia was a lad called Jackson. (In those days I wasn’t good on Christian names.)

Paul mentored Bryan`s exceptional talent in a number of productions, and on leaving St Bees, after a gap year delivering telegrams on a bike from Bolton post office, he gained entry into RADA (along with Peter Bowles, Peter O’Toole, Albert Finney, James Villers et al.) and in his last year there won the Bancroft Gold Medal for his portrayal of Abraham Lincoln. He went on to have a long, varied and distinguished career, all kindled and greatly encouraged in the first place by Paul. I appeared in Chekov’s ‘The Bear’ as Luka, the manservant; the harassed heiress was Terry Mayne with his Northern Irish accent that you couldn’t cut with a cold chisel; I can’t now remember who played the over-bearing suitor, Smirnov.

I was Monsieur Jordain in Moliere’s ‘Le Bourgeois gentil homme’ complete with elaborate period costume and wig; my wife, similarly attired, was one Newton (?). There was also a play in which I was a hapless, Irish, bowler-hatted, police inspector. My sidekick was Tony Speakman as a uniformed sergeant with a thick Liverpool accent.

I was an idle scholar, and I didn’t like any game involving spheres or ovoids invading my space. I was rescued from obscurity by my involvement in the choir and drama. In my last year, voice now well and truly broken, Paul and Donald directed me in the role of Major General Stanley in the G and S ‘Pirates of Penzance’ - a performance never equalled before or since, anywhere, any time! Well that’s what I think! What is certain is that on the following Speech Day, 1953, I was awarded the only prize I ever won: the ‘Braithwaite Prize for Drama’.

My form was never taught English by Paul, but in the science sixth form we benefited from his ‘general studies’ class. This was to introduce us to the arts with emphasis on music and painting. At his bidding we researched the French impressionists and wrote a lengthy essay. Thus was kindled in me a life-long interest. He introduced us to some of the classical and romantic composers. I had become infected by jazz music having heard it seeping out from John Robley’s study. Such was Paul’s approachability that he allowed me to play a few representative 78s. He said, ‘I quite like the blues, but I can’t really do with it when they sound happy’.

He was very patient and even-tempered. On the rare occasions that he boiled over he would shout ‘Curse your guts boy!’ Then it was all over.

After national service I continued with participation in amateur stage productions, but nothing came up to the atmosphere created by Paul at St Bees.

P.S. In June 2002 Paul and I were briefly in contact with reference to the death of Bryan Pringle. He and I were close friends. I have looked out a post card I had from Paul. It depicts the drawing room from Canons Ashby House, Northants. In the centre is a chaise longue and Paul said that it reminded him of that which we had had on the set of the Moliere production which he called the ‘Prodigous Snob’.”

 

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