by Brian Bowler (1944-1951)
Submitted by his contemporary, Alan Trinder
It was traditional at the High School for the sixth form boys to indulge in ‘rags’. These were more or less harmless pranks, outside of the school rules but generally tolerated by the staff as an expression of youthful high spirits. The year I was in the upper sixth we had had a series of rags particularly in the run up to the end of the school year (1951) and what was for some of us the end of school life. The most daring had been the suspension of a chamber pot from one of the main beams in the school hall.
There were no repercussions, as one master observed: ‘this is Oxford and this sort of thing happens here’. Every year on November 5th somebody performs the hair-raising stunt of placing a chamber pot on top of The Martyrs Memorial. Much thought and discussion was then devoted to our crowning glory, the rag to end all rags, the rag that would be our memorial.
The Plan
There were a number of suggestions but the one that eventually found favour was the painting of the geography room. This was a separate building of modern prefabricated design and a bit of an eyesore compared with the rest of the school buildings. The idea was to whitewash it and paint big black beams all over it, Tudor fashion, and put a sign up ‘Tiny’s Tea Shop’. Our then geography master was Mr. Tiny Rowlands.
We had twelve volunteers to do the donkey work and agreed to meet at the school at midnight. At the appointed hour only three of us turned up, Billy Russell, Ray Hickling (now sadly deceased) and myself. It got worse when Ray said he had only come to tender his apologies for not being able to assist. His parents had got wind of our plan and under dire threat Ray was forbidden to have anything to do with the ultimate rag.
Plan B
Faced with the size of the project the two of us had to abandon all thoughts of getting it completed before school started. Billy then came up with an alternative plan: we would paint the masonry balls round the top of the school frontage. With access to a car, Billy was able to produce some alternative paint and he also snaffled a ‘danger’ sign from some road works.
We had to break into the school and make our way upstairs and thence through a trap-door and a skylight on to the roof. We were reasonably safe, there being a parapet along the front of the roof where lay the masonry which was the object of our attention. The masonry balls sat on top of little ornamental pillars and were just about the right height for painting. To one side of the clock tower was a row of balls which we painted green, the ones over the clock tower we painted alternately red and white and the ones to the other side of the tower were again painted green. Thus we had a nice symmetrical pattern.
The ‘danger’ sign we now suspended over the face of the clock. The job done we made our farewells and went home. I had left my bedroom window open and with a cat-like climb up the fence and onto the veranda roof I was in bed, dirty but un-noticed.
The Fallout
Neither Billy nor I went to school the next day but the events were related to me by a member of the staff. Our handiwork was not noticed until just before nine o’clock when the Headmaster arrived and looked up as he came up the steps to check the time. He saw the ‘danger’ sign and thought, “Hmmm very enterprising of someone.” He failed to notice the paint. This was spotted by another member of the staff, I think it was B.C. Atkins, the senior maths master. He reported the paint to the Headmaster and then the problems started.
The school porter was summoned and questioned. He was certain that the paint was not there at eight o’clock that morning. Enquiries then shifted to any pupils, particularly sixth formers, who were in school between eight and nine. One or two were brought in for questioning but were not very forthcoming. Neither Billy nor I were in school at all that day so no suspicion attached to us. The enquiries were obviously going in the wrong direction. Over the next day or two attempts to find the perpetrators got more desperate. The entire sixth form was under suspicion and in an attempt to get to the bottom of it, a threat was made that unless the culprits were in the Head’s study by ten-thirty that day he would refuse all references for that year. This would have had a detrimental effect on such things as State Scholarships.
At ten that morning Billy and I marched into the head’s study; the conversation went along the following lines:
'Good morning Bowler, good morning Russell'
'Good morning sir.'
'How can I help you?'
'We have come to talk to you about the painting, sir.'
'Oh, have you?
'Yes sir, we were responsible for it!'
'Were you Russell? Were you Bowler?'
'Yes sir.'
He then launched into a bit of a tirade about outrageous acts of vandalism and other well-chosen phrases and finally stood up and came round to our side of his desk. He announced that he was pleased to get it isolated and proceeded to shake both of us vigorously by the hand. The fact was that he didn’t believe us. He thought we were performing some altruistic act to save our more cowardly form mates from embarrassment.
Over the succeeding days nothing was to happen to change that conviction. In due course my father and Billy’s father received letters from the Head. I assume that the wording was the same in each case. Dad’s started off:
"Dear Sir,
I dare say that you have heard of your son's recent escapade in
painting the school masonry. ----"
It ended with an invitation to dad to go and discuss it with him. Dad’s reaction was brief. He said he had no intention of going to see the old buffer and sent him a note asking that the paint be removed and the bill sent to him. I believe that Billy’s father sent a note saying that if he wanted any money he could get it from Billy personally. No bill was sent and no money sought.
I was told by the Deputy Head, R. W. Bodey, later that all the Head wanted to do was to assure our parents that we were blameless and had accepted responsibility as a selfless act to protect our colleagues. Later still Mr. Bodey came to the class I was at and took me away. He said that he wanted me to see the view from the Physics lab window. When we got there I saw scaffolding being erected and men with little wire brushes trying to remove the paint. Their success was limited and eventually the ivy was trained up on to the balls. After I had left school if ever I passed the Head in the street he would smile affectionately at me and raise his Homburg in salute. A thoroughly undeserved tribute.
Portrait of Brian Bowler in later life!