ROBERT PRIDDY’S PAGE ON THE ROYAL LIBERTY SCHOOL (1949-53)

MY MASTERS AT THE ROYAL LIBERTY SCHOOL

Most of the many masters at this grammar school were highly-qualified graduates and moreover were tireless voluntary workers in providing countless extra-curricular activities after school and even some in the holidays.

John Morley, Latin, was very upright and mostly a rather serious fellow, but did have a sense of humour and was kindly to all. He didn't have disciplinary troubles, I think, because he was respected. His room faced Brentwood Rd. and was one or two rooms before Mr. Kittle's corner room on the ground floor. He led the 12th Romford Scout Troop, which must have entailed a lot of work, not only once-weekly meetings but also yearly fortnight-long summer camps around the UK (he did not usually attend these however), bicycle marathons, weekend bivouacking, tests for badges and the like.

Francis ('Fred') Holmes, French and German. The most perfect teacher as agreed by nearly all his pupils. He was a serious man, excellent pedagogue who was fair and followed up everyone's language problems, never an interruption in class. All pupils were looked after fully. was a serious man, excellent pedagogue who was fair and followed up everyone's language problems.Few if any were 'left behind'. I had him for French for 5 years and German for two.

Dan Reekie (Science) was a mild-mannered man, a good science teacher. He had a disfigurement, a deep hole somewhere near his forehead, not due to a bullet during the war, as I used to believe, but as the result of an operation.

Mr. Pilling A strict disciplinarian, no charm and could make cutting remarks. Feared. A clique of boys who tended towards Teddishness answered Errrn back, however, and he seemed to like the cut and thrust of argument with them. As one of them told him, they designated themselves as 'yobs' - a new term then which they claimed to have invented, explaining it is 'boy' backwards to everyone. (If this is so, it was some achievement to have 'offered up in England 's fane' (i.e. 'temple')? (Or 'fame', if this after all was a misprint?)

Mr. Walters A devotee of Rupert Brookes, Wilfred Owen, Edmund Blunden and many other kinds of literatery mogul. His digressions were enjoyable, but too infrequent as he was a hard worker. Thick, moveable & trickily sardonic eyebrows. Taught grammar with flair and did inspire me to become a lifelong bookworm. ('A rollickin' good yarn, boy'). Whenever seen outside the school he was smoking a pipe. 'Ehhh boy! C'm'ere boy!' was his standard formula for calling one up for a cuff of the ear. He often threw chalk and with accuracy. See my essay involving Wal: 'A Good Yarn'

Mr, Faithful A biologist and expert on nature. A most inspiring and sensitive teacher. He would take classes out to nature parks for educative ramble. I was sad when he no longer taught our class after the first term he was there!


R.L.S. schoolmates of 1949-1953 might be interested in reading an account I (Robert Priddy) have written of my experiences then and how those times seemed to me. (Click here to read)


For list and account of pupils of 1948 & 1949, more snaps (an SS Velutina visit) plus 12th Romford scouts' summer camps 1950-3, click here


BETWEEN 1949 & 1953 - Some Memories of events at RLS


Prize-giving day, I believe it was - or was this also Speech Day?, when all masters appeared on stage in their mortar boards and variously coloured ermine gowns. All very impressive to those of us who saw them in this peculiar regalia for the first time. Some strutted about on the stage like fightings cocks (Mr. Pilling?), until Mr. Newth swept in like an absolute monarch, but most of them tried to seem unconcerned and perhaps inconspicuous... especially one or two who had no gowns at all!


Sports Day was an annual day open to parents etc. which was accompanied at least once by several exhibitions in classrooms. One was RLS art, others there also were and may have been stamps, models, geography or suchlike.


Some Other Breaks in School Routine

Now and again there would be a 'treat', something to break up the tedium of the 8-hour days. Among the most memorable for me were:
1) Without warning one afternoon, lessons were cancelled and there was a lecture from the stage of the assembly hall by a man who had some eagles and hawks. He had trained them all and made a film with a storyline using them, which he showed us. He was a hit because of his direct and open approach to his audience. I'd like to have recalled his name, but can't. But the main thing was that he had with him a wild golden eagle he had saved and also a huge sea eagle, one of which he allowed to fly over us in the assembly hall.
2) Being bussed to see a performance of Julius Caesar at a school not all that far from Gidea Park - about 1/2 hr. by bus (1953). It was on a par with RLS productions, and they were good.
3) Interesting and a welcome change was a visit to Romford gasworks with a science master. A better way to understand chemistry, a breath of the real world... but it ponged too!
4) One day prior to the General election of 1950 or 1951, the school was gathered in the assembly hall for a talk and film show put on by Tate & Lyle, the sugar manufacturers. The whole programme was propaganda against nationalisation by the labour government... who were threatening to do it to the sugar industry. We were all given badges with the words 'Keep the S out of STATE'. This campaign in schools by the sugar giant became a hot political potato in the election debate.

The Annual RLS House Drama/Revue Evening was held in the autumn term in the main hall with the stage and was attended by the headmaster, other masters and pupils with their invited family members.

There would be various announcements, words about the year past by the headmaster, perhaps music by pupils and then each of the four houses put on at least one sketch, which were the main attraction for most pupils... to see older boys and friends being funny or - even better - making fools of themselves was something unusual.

One year before I also tramped those boards in a sketch for the Saxons, some boys (from another house) had put on a sketch which really had no real plot or point other than a slapstick fight with dough. The fight got out of hand, dough flying everywhere, the front row came under fire and even Newth was at last actually hit by a well-aimed piece... a daring, intentional move, that! I can't recall the name of the chief culprit, but he had a big reputation as a ne'er-do-well. Mr. Newth then got up and stopped the farce immediately. What was worse was that the huge velvet stage curtains were liberally covered too, and no one cleaned them off - it seems - until the dough had set firmly into the velure. The curtains were new and I recall that they had cost the princely sum of £600 (how do such details stick in the mind?) and would cost a great deal to have cleaned, as they had to be taken down and sent away to a firm that could handle such large curtains.

Next year my turn came quite unexpectedly. Languishing in class one day near the end of term, a message came for me that I was wanted on the stage. A friend called Hutchins thought I might help out with a sketch that he had... his job was stage manager and he would not do it himself or take any of the honour. It required at least 4 persons, so I went and cajoled some nervous but good friends into joining me... Colin Brown, Wren, and Hare (?). Hutchins directed it excellently and, without a script, he got us to find our own lines, to project our voices really properly... so we rehearsed it and were ready for the revue next day. Heavily made up with grease paint, we were the Red Army Choir, our RLS jackets buttoned on backwards which gave an excellent USSR effect. Since the others all refused point blank to take the leading role - the officer conducting the choir - it fell to me.

Marched on the three men, lined them up - tallest on the left, shortest on the right - I presented the Red Army Choir in my idea of a Russian accent, who would sing 'The Sonk of the Fulgar Boatmen'. After briefly praising Uncle Joe, the song began, "Yo Heave Ho, Yo HeeEAeVE...." and one singer soon hit a real bummer. I stopped the choir - apologised profusely to the audience. Marched them all off. A shot was heard. Then orders - and the remaining two were marched back on. The same procedure was repeated for each of them, with huge applause for each horrible note that was sung - especially Colin Brown's terrible broken-voiced screech - until only I was left. I ordered myself to march on etc. & tried to sing it - same strangulated 'heave'. Same apology. I marched myself off. A shot was heard. The curtain did not fall, however... no sound for a while. Then I sprang back on in joy shouting 'I missed'. Hutchins let the curtain down immediately. He taught us the timings to get maximum effect. He ought to have become a director in real life. Thunderous applause... Afterwards, even Mr. Fox was enthusiastic. Thus I became a shooting star! For five minutes I revelled in brilliance, thereafter to deprive the stage of my talents.

If you are not aware of it, there are Old Boys' websites and an e-mailing system. The picture library is at http://www.rlsoldboys.co.uk