David Elston (FS 65-70) has submitted the following.

“I read Peter Royd’s article on life at St Bees School in the 1960s with great interest. I remember Peter well. He was a good friend of my older brother John, so was two years ahead of me. I have reflected on his observations and, in particular, the role of the prefects and the housemasters in the late 1960s. 
 
It has brought back some memories and raised a number of thoughts I had not previously considered. Looking back, it was a strange world. The four hundred year old school, in a village by the sea, surrounded by rolling farmland and dramatic cliffs, all within easy distance of the glorious Cumbrian mountains, fells and lakes. A curious anachronism set in a beautiful changing landscape.

At that time, a huge amount of the disciplining and management of the lower sixth downwards was delegated to the house prefects. Seventeen and eighteen years olds were overseeing much of the lives of the thirteen to sixteen year olds. The prefects had no training for this, other than following how their predecessors had managed, so perpetuating the norms of behaviour and the culture. They were the prosecutors, judge and jury of those under their control. The duty prefects would go round the dormitories every evening with the punishment book. They would check that all punishments, which was mainly doing runs, had been completed. The housemaster or a house tutor would also do a dormitory tour, but I don’t recall the housemasters ever reviewing the punishment book or giving much guidance.

There was an informal right of appeal from prefects’ punishments. If some poor individual felt he had been treated harshly, he could complain to the housemaster. I recall a few instances of that happening and there was an inevitable bias in favour of the prefect’s version. On one occasion, as a house prefect, I punished all the occupants of a junior dayroom. A few of them had been fighting during prep in the absence of a prefect who had been called away. No-one would own up to what had happened, hence my blanket punishment. One pupil complained to the housemaster, Anthony Dearle, who, whilst mildly sympathetic, said that since he must have done something wrong that term which had gone undetected, he should have to accept it. Anthony later suggested to me that blanket punishments ‘were fine, but could be perceived as stretching the principles of fairness.’

The prefects had a rather better time at school than the rest. When not on duty, they could come and go to breakfast and supper when they pleased. They usually had better studies and tea and coffee brought to their studies at break. They had greater privacy with better changing rooms, so didn’t have to wait after daily sports until a bath or shower was free. They could drift off to bed well after lights were out and were free to walk into the village when not in class.

Inevitably, there were some boys who went through very unhappy periods for many reasons. Looking back, I cannot believe the prefectorial system could have helped that. I felt at the time, and still do, that the St Bees pupils were very tolerant of, and often admired, individualism, eccentricities, rebels and madcap humour. However, for the few who didn’t really fit in with any particular ‘set’ life must have been challenging. There was great emphasis on sport, particularly rugby, and an underlying macho culture. Those who lacked any sporting prowess, or were seen as ‘weedy,’ could suffer. Looking back, I don’t think the prefects would have been particularly bothered to make allowances for those not fitting in or suffering from bullying, and wouldn’t have known how to manage it.

However, by the late 1960s and early 1970, after Peter and his colleagues had left, that culture was beginning to change, particularly for those of us on the largest house, Foundation. The house of about 100 was split into two much more manageable houses, Foundation North and Foundation South. More studies were built, roomier and with more light. 

At last, the awful shorts were consigned to history. Now we were in grey flannel trousers, blazers and ties so we were looking more like young adults. Years later, in about 2010, Joan Lees, wife of the 1960s/1970s/1980s Headmaster Geoffrey Lees, told me that since they had arrived in 1963, she had been quietly campaigning for the end of the shorts. She had correctly predicted that once the boys began to look more grown up, they would behave more maturely and be treated as such by staff. I am sure that was true. 

Fagging reduced as prefects began to see it as a tired image of a Victorian past. The houses had television rooms. We read on the news of the 1968 French student riots and growing protests by those of our generation in the USA against the Vietnam war. In 1969 we saw John Lennon and Yoko Ono urging us from bed to give peace a chance. More pirate radio stations were appearing, including Radio Caroline, which was visible from the top of the St Bees Head cliffs, anchored off the Isle of Man. There was a growing feeling that blind adherence to those in authority no longer applied as before.

I recently read a supplement of The Spectator on private schools which outlined how much has changed in the way most boarding schools are now managed and in the role of the housemasters and housemistresses. One article commended the passing of what it refers to as ‘boy government,’ effectively the 1960s prefectorial system at St Bees. Now, housemasters are expected to check on every pupil’s wellbeing regularly and the schools have become ‘more emotionally palatable’ as well as more comfortable.

No doubt some Old Boys huffed and puffed as the changes came about, and some probably had a fit at the thought of girls joining the school. However, without those changes the school would have increasingly become more of an anachronism, which it could ill afford given its location (as lovely as it is) and the competition. I remember Geoff Lees telling me, when we met up in the late 1980s long after he had retired, how prospective parents would arrive at his elegant quarters in School House. Once they had started walking round the school one frequent question, usually from the fathers, was, ‘There must be a quicker way of getting here from the M6 (then finishing at Lancaster) than over all those winding fell roads?’, and another, usually from the mothers, was, ‘Do all the boys wear shorts all the time?’

On a more positive note, for me, another change was the retirement of the school chaplain and the local vicar assuming his role. This meant that the Sunday service was no longer in the school chapel but in the lovely old Priory, with its Norman origins and its splendid Father Willis organ, which Brian Howard used to enormous effect. For those of us in the choir, in the chancel choir stalls, this was a great improvement from the cramped school chapel choir stalls and the hopeless acoustics.

Another really positive memory of life at St Bees were the regular trips to Rosehill theatre to hear concerts given by leading international musicians, including Alfred Brendel, Sviatoslav Richter, the Amadeus Quartet and Jacques Loussier trio (twice during my time at St Bees). This was, of course, thanks to the generous patronage of Sir Nicholas (‘Miki’) Sekers, and played a great part in developing my enjoyment of classical music, (as did Anthony Dearle’s generosity in lending me LPs from his enormous collection).

One final thought. A particular aspect of 1960s St Bees I did complain about at the time was the school food. It was unimaginative and could be pretty poor on occasion, certainly on Foundation. My brother and I both developed a keen interest in cooking, and I sometimes wonder whether that arose from a desire never to have to put up with St Bees food again.”

 

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