Advancing With Haddrill - Paul Feldman
Tony Haddrill... brings back some nightmarish recollections for me. He quite rightly saw me as a blot on his very fine Advanced English class and his various and persistent ways of letting me know it at least led me to one insight. Namely, one could be imbued with a fine degree of subtlety and sharpest of perceptions of life as it is expounded in great literature and still have a mile wide bitchy streak in one's character. I guess if it was good enough for Patrick White to be a bitch and a bastard according to Nolan it was fair enough for a rising young English Master to aspire to the same. Albeit a perceptive and very competent English Master, damn it.
From that little diatribe you may rightly conclude that I find it irresistible to contemplate various turning points and influences in the far-off days, a little like a devout Catholic working round a string of worry beads. Despite the little nibbles of angst, in regretting not delivering the witty retorts to Haddrill that I always thought up, days or weeks after the event, I have safely relegated him to the list of interesting people I am glad to have known. But I must admit I have far fonder recollections of Christ Ellis.
[Chris Ellis was the son of an Anglican minister and was himself a Christian, playing the organ at church on Sundays - we developed a caricature of Ellis senior as 'six-foot-four-inch Bible-bashing Father Ellis' but on meeting the real man at his church near Bathurst on the Hill End trip found him to be anything but an Ian Paisley figure]
Anyway, I still get my kicks reading fiction of all sorts and pedigrees, for which I have to thank the total effect of the STHS English department. That is not withstanding the likes of Bernard Maguire (also christened Blarney Mc Flyer in another of Mark Ierace’s marvelous character inventions, alluding to Maguire’s propensity to find inspiration in the middle of an English lesson to launch into illustrated diatribes on life in the air force). I think there was even rumour of Barny’s Friday night ritual of getting pissed, dressing up in air force uniform and reliving the battle of Britain in a room full of model planes. Or was that just Mark’s inventive imaginings of Wing Commander Blarney?
Neil Treverrow
[The Masonic Lodge still offers a Ray Haddrill Prize for Best Mark in HSC English.]
Paul Feldman Remembers Reg.
REG BYRNE – SOME NOTES FOR AN OBIT
Reg Byrne taught at Sydney Tech High from 66 to 68. He was assigned to look after the junior debating team and stayed with us for the next two years. I also had him for Level 1 History in sixth form, until he left to go overseas. At the time he was a hero of mine, along with Bob Dylan and George Orwell. The ruling spirit of our school was a pompous officiousness made ludicrous by professions of deep sentiment about the Queen and God. Here and there, individual teachers expressed their humanity, shared their humour and taught in interesting ways. There were certainly those with more creative energy, and one or two who were more outwardly radical than Reg, but he appealed to most of the kids because of his laid back attitude to the rules and his easy approachable manner. Through his enthusiasm for horse racing, his casual dress and his motorbike, he gained a reluctant popularity. But for those of us who knew him a little better and were introduced to his circle of friends, his example suggested other possibilities for our lives.
In school photographs he appears with a lopsided sullen stare, suffering a tie and sportscoat. More commonly he appeared in class in an old black jumper, his shirt collar just visible, his hair dishevelled. He would sit a chair and stretch right out, with his arms back and his hands behind his head. I remember his voice - a sort of nasal hooting drawl, often bearing a tone of cynicism, the amusement conveyed with a half smile and a knowing look. When he wrote in your book, the writing was a curious mix of printed and capital letters, though in an adult hand. One comment I recall: ‘I’m not being critical, but aren’t dictatorships always formally popular?’
When he drove us to debates away from school, it was in an old grey VW. He dropped us off as he drove home, and when we thanked him, he said ‘It’s a pleasure’, and he seemed to mean it. He did not force things, and it took a while to get to know him better. When we had our post mortems, he was always on our side, and rarely critical. In a mock debate, he called to me ‘You’re standing like a prize fighter’. The adjudicator for most of our debates was a serious-minded Catholic priest who appeared in a black cassock. When he awarded our final debate to the other side, Reg refused to shake hands with him, saying ‘the man brings out all my anticlericalism’. The subject of the debate was the future of Australian secondary industry.
When I took part in a public speaking competition at Hurstville one evening, he was interested enough to ride out there on his motorbike. He arrived late and apologetic after I had spoken, but stuck around to listen to the other speeches. He correctly picked the winner, a girl who drew her talk from the teachings of Eric Fromm. He stayed to chat to my father, and they quickly found common ground on the evils of US foreign policy.
In class, he called us by our first names, unless it was someone chattering that he didn’t like, in which case the voice would loudly say ‘Shut up, Barber!’ (or whatever). One person talking at a time, that seemed to be his only rule.
Why did he teach? As a history teacher he obviously cared about the issues, from a left wing perspective - however he was often underprepared for his classes and at times sheepishly honest about this. Consequently, whatever his educational philosophy, he had a measure of self-interest in turning his lessons into dialogues. In the Level 1 history class that was quite OK, because we were all swots and knew our stuff – we spent the lessons looking at documentary evidence and generally benefited from his comments made from a broader educated perspective. However some of the kids in his Level 2 class were annoyed with him, because they wanted to be taught.
Still, when he left for England and Sweden, that class farewelled him with a deskful of orange peel (he professed to hate oranges) and a sex magazine featuring buxom blondes.
Because he did seem to support left wing causes, and was clearly opposed to US imperialism, I expected him to be politically active. So I was surprised when I came across him one Saturday afternoon late in 1967 near the rallying point for a Vietnam War protest march. It was in Hyde Park, near College Street. He appeared to be writing something on footpath in chalk and then he stood up to talk to someone.
I greeted him with ‘Hello Sir’ and he grimaced. ‘Hello Paul’, he said. And then ‘Paul, this is Darcy Waters’. I turned to the other fellow who offered his hand. He seemed older but friendly. I shook hands awkwardly and turned back to Reg. ‘Are you going to go in the march?’ I asked expectantly. ‘No Paul, we’re going off to the pub now’. This disappointed me, which must have been obvious. As they walked off I looked at what he had written. It was ‘Viva Che’. At the time, I didn’t know what it meant.
I can see now that there must have been a tension between his left wing political sympathies and his adherence to the Push ethic of non-involvement in organised politics, which left open only a private form of anarchy. When we talked about history, he obviously admired the radical trade unionists of the early twentieth century, particularly the syndicalists. However I can recall him commending to us that terribly depressing film ‘La Guerre est Finie’ and telling us that it expressed his views about the futility of political action. It is good to see that his son Darcy has avoided that state of paralysis and is now in local politics, with a practically focused radical agenda.
It seems unfair for a lazy old public servant to be making these judgements about a young man he knew forty years ago. This is obviously the fate of faded heroes
Reg left for Europe in 68. I think it was past the middle of the year, around August. He told us that Qantas had a deal going for people under 26 to travel at half fare, and he had to act on it. Another teacher Robert Mackie, a more active radical who took everything seriously, wanted Reg to make a speech dumping on the school and the education system, but Reg preferred to ‘disappear in a puff of smoke’ as he put it – he wanted to keep his options open about a job when he came back.
After he came back from Europe I saw him only a couple of times. He came to a pub near Sydney Uni and drank with us once, around August 1970 – but once past the initial greetings, we didn’t have a lot to talk about. He had obviously decided to focus on the horses and said he just couldn’t tolerate being involved in teaching any more. I was feeling quite down at the time because my academic ambitions had bit the dust and my parents had separated – he picked up on that, and his last words to me were ‘see you Paul, hope it’s not too long…’. Later on, we used to drink at the Forest Lodge Hotel, and he would be there too with a different group, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk with us.
A year or two earlier, I’d exchanged letters with an excellent teacher from Sydney Tech, a gawky Anglican minister’s son who’d moved to Bathurst. He wrote to me that contact with Reg and his circle of friends had made him aware just how good human friendships could be.
So I guess from his own point of view, Reg was making the right decision, leaving teaching and pursuing the Push lifestyle. For anyone with an imagination who didn’t enjoy wielding authority over children, leaving the teaching service of the 1960s would simply have been a rational decision
Reg Byrne taught at Sydney Tech High from 66 to 68. He was assigned to look after the junior debating team and stayed with us for the next two years. I also had him for Level 1 History in sixth form, until he left to go overseas. At the time he was a hero of mine, along with Bob Dylan and George Orwell. The ruling spirit of our school was a pompous officiousness made ludicrous by professions of deep sentiment about the Queen and God. Here and there, individual teachers expressed their humanity, shared their humour and taught in interesting ways. There were certainly those with more creative energy, and one or two who were more outwardly radical than Reg, but he appealed to most of the kids because of his laid back attitude to the rules and his easy approachable manner. Through his enthusiasm for horse racing, his casual dress and his motorbike, he gained a reluctant popularity. But for those of us who knew him a little better and were introduced to his circle of friends, his example suggested other possibilities for our lives.
In school photographs he appears with a lopsided sullen stare, suffering a tie and sportscoat. More commonly he appeared in class in an old black jumper, his shirt collar just visible, his hair dishevelled. He would sit a chair and stretch right out, with his arms back and his hands behind his head. I remember his voice - a sort of nasal hooting drawl, often bearing a tone of cynicism, the amusement conveyed with a half smile and a knowing look. When he wrote in your book, the writing was a curious mix of printed and capital letters, though in an adult hand. One comment I recall: ‘I’m not being critical, but aren’t dictatorships always formally popular?’
When he drove us to debates away from school, it was in an old grey VW. He dropped us off as he drove home, and when we thanked him, he said ‘It’s a pleasure’, and he seemed to mean it. He did not force things, and it took a while to get to know him better. When we had our post mortems, he was always on our side, and rarely critical. In a mock debate, he called to me ‘You’re standing like a prize fighter’. The adjudicator for most of our debates was a serious-minded Catholic priest who appeared in a black cassock. When he awarded our final debate to the other side, Reg refused to shake hands with him, saying ‘the man brings out all my anticlericalism’. The subject of the debate was the future of Australian secondary industry.
When I took part in a public speaking competition at Hurstville one evening, he was interested enough to ride out there on his motorbike. He arrived late and apologetic after I had spoken, but stuck around to listen to the other speeches. He correctly picked the winner, a girl who drew her talk from the teachings of Eric Fromm. He stayed to chat to my father, and they quickly found common ground on the evils of US foreign policy.
In class, he called us by our first names, unless it was someone chattering that he didn’t like, in which case the voice would loudly say ‘Shut up, Barber!’ (or whatever). One person talking at a time, that seemed to be his only rule.
Why did he teach? As a history teacher he obviously cared about the issues, from a left wing perspective - however he was often underprepared for his classes and at times sheepishly honest about this. Consequently, whatever his educational philosophy, he had a measure of self-interest in turning his lessons into dialogues. In the Level 1 history class that was quite OK, because we were all swots and knew our stuff – we spent the lessons looking at documentary evidence and generally benefited from his comments made from a broader educated perspective. However some of the kids in his Level 2 class were annoyed with him, because they wanted to be taught.
Still, when he left for England and Sweden, that class farewelled him with a deskful of orange peel (he professed to hate oranges) and a sex magazine featuring buxom blondes.
Because he did seem to support left wing causes, and was clearly opposed to US imperialism, I expected him to be politically active. So I was surprised when I came across him one Saturday afternoon late in 1967 near the rallying point for a Vietnam War protest march. It was in Hyde Park, near College Street. He appeared to be writing something on footpath in chalk and then he stood up to talk to someone.
I greeted him with ‘Hello Sir’ and he grimaced. ‘Hello Paul’, he said. And then ‘Paul, this is Darcy Waters’. I turned to the other fellow who offered his hand. He seemed older but friendly. I shook hands awkwardly and turned back to Reg. ‘Are you going to go in the march?’ I asked expectantly. ‘No Paul, we’re going off to the pub now’. This disappointed me, which must have been obvious. As they walked off I looked at what he had written. It was ‘Viva Che’. At the time, I didn’t know what it meant.
I can see now that there must have been a tension between his left wing political sympathies and his adherence to the Push ethic of non-involvement in organised politics, which left open only a private form of anarchy. When we talked about history, he obviously admired the radical trade unionists of the early twentieth century, particularly the syndicalists. However I can recall him commending to us that terribly depressing film ‘La Guerre est Finie’ and telling us that it expressed his views about the futility of political action. It is good to see that his son Darcy has avoided that state of paralysis and is now in local politics, with a practically focused radical agenda.
It seems unfair for a lazy old public servant to be making these judgements about a young man he knew forty years ago. This is obviously the fate of faded heroes
Reg left for Europe in 68. I think it was past the middle of the year, around August. He told us that Qantas had a deal going for people under 26 to travel at half fare, and he had to act on it. Another teacher Robert Mackie, a more active radical who took everything seriously, wanted Reg to make a speech dumping on the school and the education system, but Reg preferred to ‘disappear in a puff of smoke’ as he put it – he wanted to keep his options open about a job when he came back.
After he came back from Europe I saw him only a couple of times. He came to a pub near Sydney Uni and drank with us once, around August 1970 – but once past the initial greetings, we didn’t have a lot to talk about. He had obviously decided to focus on the horses and said he just couldn’t tolerate being involved in teaching any more. I was feeling quite down at the time because my academic ambitions had bit the dust and my parents had separated – he picked up on that, and his last words to me were ‘see you Paul, hope it’s not too long…’. Later on, we used to drink at the Forest Lodge Hotel, and he would be there too with a different group, but he didn’t go out of his way to talk with us.
A year or two earlier, I’d exchanged letters with an excellent teacher from Sydney Tech, a gawky Anglican minister’s son who’d moved to Bathurst. He wrote to me that contact with Reg and his circle of friends had made him aware just how good human friendships could be.
So I guess from his own point of view, Reg was making the right decision, leaving teaching and pursuing the Push lifestyle. For anyone with an imagination who didn’t enjoy wielding authority over children, leaving the teaching service of the 1960s would simply have been a rational decision
I Remember Geoff, Instead
From Derek Lewis:
My memory of Mr Byrne is a bit vague,other than the name is associated with the good guys.
Speaking of which, I was in the Bankstown Sports the other night (ok, I was having a quick beer waiting for a takeaway) and anyway, Jeff Bull's jazz band was playing. After taking food home I went back to hear the band...in the break I said to him..."you were my commerce teacher in 1965 at STHS"...he said, yep I was there, but you do know it was 45 years ago"...yep..he was always good with numbers....theythe band) were great and will be back there on the last Tuesday in July....I'll be there...cheers
Derek
Gard comments: Yes, I guess Geoff Bull should have been listed on our website along with the STHS Staff Good Guys, but I remember so little about him... Yes, he taught me commerce, too. And he confiscated my wristwatch once, when I was playing with it in class instead of studying commerce. And I walked past a classroom once, when I was on my way to not study something else, and I glanced into an open classroom and there was Geoff, standing out the front on the dais, not teaching commerce, but playing a trumpet while several students stood looking on, rapt and listening. A burly fellow, with a Fred Flintstone shock of hair over one eye and a beatnik ziff, Geoff Bull wore goose-neck sweaters and sports jackets. There may have been desert boots. In 1965, Geoff had 'jazz' written all over him.
According to one website, 'Geoff Bull is a renown New Orleans style trumpet player who has lead his own bands since the early sixties'
'Renown'? 'Lead'?
Back in the Sixties at STHS, whatever we studied, we used the words 'renowned', and 'led'. Never mind, Geoff's jazz always transcended scrappy grammar.
Stephen Gard
My memory of Mr Byrne is a bit vague,other than the name is associated with the good guys.
Speaking of which, I was in the Bankstown Sports the other night (ok, I was having a quick beer waiting for a takeaway) and anyway, Jeff Bull's jazz band was playing. After taking food home I went back to hear the band...in the break I said to him..."you were my commerce teacher in 1965 at STHS"...he said, yep I was there, but you do know it was 45 years ago"...yep..he was always good with numbers....theythe band) were great and will be back there on the last Tuesday in July....I'll be there...cheers
Derek
________________________
Gard comments: Yes, I guess Geoff Bull should have been listed on our website along with the STHS Staff Good Guys, but I remember so little about him... Yes, he taught me commerce, too. And he confiscated my wristwatch once, when I was playing with it in class instead of studying commerce. And I walked past a classroom once, when I was on my way to not study something else, and I glanced into an open classroom and there was Geoff, standing out the front on the dais, not teaching commerce, but playing a trumpet while several students stood looking on, rapt and listening. A burly fellow, with a Fred Flintstone shock of hair over one eye and a beatnik ziff, Geoff Bull wore goose-neck sweaters and sports jackets. There may have been desert boots. In 1965, Geoff had 'jazz' written all over him.Just as well no-one confiscated his trumpet for not teaching commerce.
Jump forward with me now, to 1989. The place is the Mittagong RSL and the occasion is the 'Jazz in the Highlands' Festival. I'm seated by the stage, with my recording gear, capturing the concert for the local Community Radio Station. Geoff Bull and His Olympia Jazz band come on. Geoff out front, trumpet in hand, ziff on chin. Geoff looks down at me, and nods. I press the Record button, and nod back at Geoff. The band strikes up...
According to one website, 'Geoff Bull is a renown New Orleans style trumpet player who has lead his own bands since the early sixties'
'Renown'? 'Lead'?
Back in the Sixties at STHS, whatever we studied, we used the words 'renowned', and 'led'. Never mind, Geoff's jazz always transcended scrappy grammar.
Stephen Gard
Vale Reg. Byrne
Lads,
STHS English/History teacher Reg Byrne passed away recently.
This just in from Mr Jack Rozycki:
I went to Reg Byrne's wake last night, Fri 2 July 2010. Reg died on 27 June of complications following an operation on his oesophagus. He was 66. The wake, held at the Balmain Bowlo, attracted what's left of the old Push plus Reg's drinking companions and a gaggle of punters - Reg never lost the taste for the gallops. It was a bitter-sweet evening, with quite a bit of laughter about Reg's antics. Reg leaves behind his wonderful loyal life's companion Susan Martin and son Darcy Byrne, a political activist of note, affordable housing advocate and Leichhardt Councillor.
Jack adds:
If you care to send your memoirs of Reg to Jack Rozycki, his email address is jackrozycki@optusnet.com.au
Boomalacka,
Stephen Gard
STHS English/History teacher Reg Byrne passed away recently.
This just in from Mr Jack Rozycki:
Jack adds:
I am thinking of writing an obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald on Reg. I occasionally write them on old Push characters having done one on Darcy Waters, George Molnar and others. If you have any anecdotes about Reg that stand out and illustrate his character and the years he was at your school that would be useful.
If you care to send your memoirs of Reg to Jack Rozycki, his email address is jackrozycki@optusnet.com.au
Boomalacka,
Stephen Gard
I Remember Reg.
How did we sense, or what made us believe, that Reg was a misfit and rebel on the staff of Sydney Technical High School? He certainly gave little direct evidence of it in the classroom, where he was a quite straightforward, and not especially memorable instructor, neither a martinet nor a mumblebum, much less a proselytizer for whatever was haunting him, a man whose mind was elsewhere, unconnected with anything so mundane as Marvell and his Coy Mistress. Reg glanced at us, but he mostly stared out of the windows as he spoke. Perhaps Reg was simply shy – or wrestling with a mistress of his own at the time. Was she a Muse, perchance? If Mr Byrne was an aesthete, a poet or novelist, he said nothing about it that I recall. Was he was suffering the vicissitudes of being Cool and Groovy while living in the Askin Epoch, and teaching in a most conservative State school, under the supervision of a grim junto of ageing, irritable colleagues? Or was it only the outcome of a trifecta that haunted him? Those windows faced toward Randwick.
Reg was certainly an equalitarian, insofar as he spoke with us, not at us, and had sufficient slouch in his gait and bearing to signal that he was One of the Fellas. Fellas of the cool and groovy sub-division, that is. I don't know what our straight-laced A-Class boys thought of Reg Byrne. Some of our sober - I will not say humourless - coevals today haul an Establishment rake of letters after their name: professorships, doctorates, chancellorhoods, gongs like the OAM. Perhaps the grim STHS junto kept Reg apart from our A-Class lads, fearful that desert-booted slouching might scuff the gilding on our Honour Boards. Reg could indeed be negligent about preparing lessons: slouching out of our classroom one day, he called over his shoulder, 'Remind me to tell you next time about Connotes and Denotes.' We didn't, and neither did Reg.
 |
| Brian Jones: banned at STHS |
From this circumstance arose my only brief, personal exchange with Reg Byrne. I came into English straight from our school’s swimming pool, my hair still damp, clinging cloche-like.
Mr Byrne looked at me sharply; his brows lowered even further, if that was possible.
‘Have you had a haircut, Gard?’ he demanded.
‘No sir,’ I said, and added, ‘I’ve been swimming.’
Reg glowered, and then no doubt we got back to Marvel.
A trivial exchange, which puzzled me for a time, but I decided eventually that our Mr Byrne must have gone into bat against the junta on behalf of those of us who wanted to look cool and/or groovy. Reg may have seen me as his first test case, an oppressed mass to be liberated, but luckily, I wasn’t.
We had no advocate, for in 1966, cool and groovy young English teachers in tweed jackets, slouching in desert boots, and with hair and attitude in their eyes, these can storm out and resign, fed up with The System. But terrible old men, sarcastic, bellowing and wielding a frequent and furious cane with all the severity of outraged convention, these old men will still be there next day.
Stephen Gard
_______________________________________________________________
You are invited to add your memoirs of Mr Byrne here, by clicking 'Post a Comment' below. Note: comments have a word-limit. If you wish to add an essay, click here to e-mail it to us, or join this blog as an administrator/contributor.
Ian Bone Reports In
Hey there,
I have a mug shot for the address book – still alive, still sniffing petrol and racing in the odd event……..missed 2009 reunion but won’t miss 2014 – retiring like most of us by then and living in the fast lane – new baby also attached.
Kind Regards,
Ian Bone
Director
The RTM Group Pty Ltd
PO Box 64
Mount Omanney Qld 4074
Kind Regards,
Ian Bone
Director
The RTM Group Pty Ltd
PO Box 64
Mount Omanney Qld 4074
John Whaite calling Geoff Kerr
Good day Stephen,
I’ve been trying to get in touch with Geoff Kerr, and came across your STHS blog. I was wondering if you have contact details for the STHS people, in particular Geoff. I was at STHS, in fact I helped with the BING must GO campaign by typing some of the little buggers, and then putting a clear sheet over the top, and finally cutting them into little strips (to Geoff’s specification). I recall being told that one of them turned up in a fridge in Bing’s office. If you do have a contact list, mine is
John Whaite
16 Dale St.,
SOUTH FREMANTLE WA 6162
0438 980 603
johnwhaite@yahoo.com.au
In retrospect, I feel most sorry for our teachers. What we did to one of the music teachers still makes me feel guilty – we were horrible little shits.
Thanks for your work on the blog. Hope to hear from you.
Regards,
John Whaite
I’ve been trying to get in touch with Geoff Kerr, and came across your STHS blog. I was wondering if you have contact details for the STHS people, in particular Geoff. I was at STHS, in fact I helped with the BING must GO campaign by typing some of the little buggers, and then putting a clear sheet over the top, and finally cutting them into little strips (to Geoff’s specification). I recall being told that one of them turned up in a fridge in Bing’s office. If you do have a contact list, mine is
John Whaite
16 Dale St.,
SOUTH FREMANTLE WA 6162
0438 980 603
johnwhaite@yahoo.com.au
In retrospect, I feel most sorry for our teachers. What we did to one of the music teachers still makes me feel guilty – we were horrible little shits.
Thanks for your work on the blog. Hope to hear from you.
Regards,
John Whaite
Vale Norm Price
"Hi Steve, sorry to report some very sad news….poor old Norm passed away yesterday…as you are probably aware he was in nursing home for past few years….Howard Rues, Chook Cohen and I were hoping to catch up with him soon….but we didn’t get our act together …
Can you pls place a notice on our class of 69 website to let everyone know…. Cheers, Graeme"
Howard Rues has provided the following funeral details:
Leura Memorial Gardens,
1 Kitchener Rd, Leura NSW 2780
Monday 2 November, at 3.p.m.
website: http://www.leuramemorialgardens.com.au/
Saturday October 31, 2009, The Sydney Morning Herald
PRICE, Norman Samuel.
The relatives and friends of the
late NORMAN PRICE are invited to attend his funeral
service to be held on Monday (November 2, 2009) at the
Leura Memorial Gardens Crematorium, Kitchener Road,
Leura, commencing at 3 p.m.
Please assemble at the
crematorium chapel.
In lieu of flowers, donations to
the Muscular Dystrophy Association of NSW would be
appreciated. Donation box available at the chapel.
Entrusted to the Care of Leura Memorial Gardens
STHS Lads are invited to add their tribute to Norm here, by clicking 'Post A Comment' below.
 |
| Norm Price (seated) 2005 L to R: Howard Reus, Brad Fair, Maurice Cohen, Graeme McClean, ? (I've forgotten) |
---------------
31/10/2009 - Untitled Comment |
| Posted by Col Franks |
| Sorry to hear that news Steve- I remember hanging around with Norm & Greg Aitken . What ever happened to Greg???? |
5/11/2009 - Untitled Comment |
| Posted by Anonymous |
| Another memory of me and Norman: Norman and I did an epic roadtrip in 1971 to see the Springboks play NSW Country in Orange (isn't that a weird name for a town? How come they didn't call it Lemon? Because it is). Anyway we really struggled across the Blue Mountains - the only way we could keep the ice off the Cortina windshield was for Norman to hang out the window and scrub it free. We returned to Sydney after the game, it was a long trip. Needless to say NSW Country got thrashed as did the Wallabies thereafter. |
Reunions - more of 'em? Comments, please.
Several lads have written to say that they always very much enjoy our Reunions, but there just isn't enough time to get around and talk to everyone, which we all want to do.
So - please add your comments to these proposals
1. More 'mini-Reunions'.
Peter Coleman has in the past announced informal gatherings at the Oatley Pub on a Friday evening. No notice is required - you turn up, or not. The pub is a large and pleasant place, well-appointed, with room outside for groups to gather, and it's located conveniently just across the park from Oatley railway station, which is on the Illawarra Line. The pub offers counter meals, and a restaurant, or there are take-way food shops in the main street.
These gatherings were quite well-attended, often with up to two dozen present. They happened about once every three to six months, and were suddenly announced, when Peter had the urge to see his STHS mates. No organization by anyone is required - one circular e-mail is sent. Some lads phoned others to let them know, or see if they'd be there. No bookings, no payment up front. Easy as.
Mini-Reunions don't have to be at Oatley Pub, of course, but the venue seems to work for a lot of blokes.
So - more of these?
2. Long-stay reunions.
The weekend at Murramurrang Resort seemed to allow everyone more opportunities chance to catch up with more blokes. Is this a better model than the one-evening reunion? It doesn't have to be at Murramurrang, of course.
3. One-night Stands
We are all busy people - the One-evening Every Five Years model is probably as much time as many of us can spare. If these one-nighters leave us wanting more, then that's great. Makes us look forward all the more to the next one, and try hard to get there.
4. Delegation
There was some disappointment expressed about the lack of material on the display table, the absence of name tags so we could identify each other... all quite constructive and apposite criticisms. Clearly, some reunion organization tasks need to be delegated to co-ordinators.
Comments, please. And comments on the comments...
So - please add your comments to these proposals
1. More 'mini-Reunions'.
Peter Coleman has in the past announced informal gatherings at the Oatley Pub on a Friday evening. No notice is required - you turn up, or not. The pub is a large and pleasant place, well-appointed, with room outside for groups to gather, and it's located conveniently just across the park from Oatley railway station, which is on the Illawarra Line. The pub offers counter meals, and a restaurant, or there are take-way food shops in the main street.
These gatherings were quite well-attended, often with up to two dozen present. They happened about once every three to six months, and were suddenly announced, when Peter had the urge to see his STHS mates. No organization by anyone is required - one circular e-mail is sent. Some lads phoned others to let them know, or see if they'd be there. No bookings, no payment up front. Easy as.
Mini-Reunions don't have to be at Oatley Pub, of course, but the venue seems to work for a lot of blokes.
So - more of these?
2. Long-stay reunions.
The weekend at Murramurrang Resort seemed to allow everyone more opportunities chance to catch up with more blokes. Is this a better model than the one-evening reunion? It doesn't have to be at Murramurrang, of course.
3. One-night Stands
We are all busy people - the One-evening Every Five Years model is probably as much time as many of us can spare. If these one-nighters leave us wanting more, then that's great. Makes us look forward all the more to the next one, and try hard to get there.
4. Delegation
There was some disappointment expressed about the lack of material on the display table, the absence of name tags so we could identify each other... all quite constructive and apposite criticisms. Clearly, some reunion organization tasks need to be delegated to co-ordinators.
Comments, please. And comments on the comments...
2009 Reunion - The Aftermath
It was another memorable night. Final headcount - 56 Techos. As always, one left the venue wanting more. There were so many stories to hear, from so many lads, and there's never enough time to get around to everyone.
We're sorry if you weren't able to make it, and hope you'll be able to join us at the next one.
The Next One
27 September, 2014.
Same place.
So, claim the date.
Same place.
So, claim the date.
A video reprise of the evening:
We have been thanked so often, with such warmth, and so graciously, in person and via e-mail, by so many, for our organization of the 2009 Reunion, that our ears are red with embarrassment. Thank you kindly for your kind thanks. We were left in no doubt that our efforts were greatly appreciated. The spark is always there - Lee and I just fanned the embers a bit, and the flames leapt upward.
Keynote Address
Several lads have asked for a copy of the text of Gard's Keynote Address. It has now been posted here on the blog: click here.
THE 1989 REUNION - Names for Faces, Please
This photo, courtesy of Martyn Yeomans, who was the 1989 (20th Year) Reunion Organizer, of the attendees:
Just add the correct names below as a 'Comment'
1 G Sparkes 2 D Lewis unknown 4 unknown 5 M Ferrier 6 unknown 7 unknown 8 Lowndes 9 unknown 10 M Yeomans
11 unknown 12 unknown 13 T Jones 14 unknown 15 unknown 16 unknown 17 unknown 18 P Lawrence 19 M Eastwood 20 G Murphy
21 P Brown 22 ? Wormald 22 unknown 23 unknown 24 unknown 25 unknown 26 unknown 27 unknown 28 unknown 29 W Harmon 30 R Overall
31 unknown 32 unknown 33 unknown 34 unknown 35 unknown 36 unknown 37 unknown 38 unknown 39 unknown 40 unknown
41 unknown 42 unknown 43 unknown 44 S Edge 45 L Ecclestone 46 unknown 47 P Coleman 48 T Pearsall 49 J Shepherd 50 S Kelly
41 unknown 42 unknown 43 unknown 44 S Edge 45 L Ecclestone 46 unknown 47 P Coleman 48 T Pearsall 49 J Shepherd 50 S Kelly
Just add the correct names below as a 'Comment'
All About Trevor White
First of all , Stephen, thank you for the remarkable, indeed FANTASTIC, job you have been doing on the STHS website for the last “eternity.” CONGRATULATIONS!!!!
However, I am not sure yet if I can make the next reunion as our daughter (who is 27 and has been working for the ANZ Bank in India for the past year, returns to Aussie late Sept ) is getting married on 3rd October 2009 and we will be busy in Melb the weekend of the reunion finalising “stuff”.
Will see if I can get a brief leave pass to attend the reunion- but will have to be a very, very good boy – which is almost impossible for me at the best of times.
Am alive and very well, keeping active bicycle riding around 120 klms each week, swimming ,play tennis, bush walking and occasional surf , but water tooooo cold in Melb.
My wife Judy (who I am proud to say only took 4.5 kgs of total luggage ( including lip gloss) with her compared to my 6kgs) and I trekked , kayaked, bused, biked, walked, climbed etc around Cambodia, Vietnam , Laos and Sth. India for a few months earlier this year, then ( as I had been a good boy) I was allowed to go surfing in Lombok with Coleman and Murphy in May.
A very brief update on Whitey from Melb follows :
I retired (hooray) from fulltime working for $ about seven years ago, after years of valium intake running international businesses.
Then did some lecturing across various facets of business at Melb Uni (which I stopped last year). Continue to do lots of pro bono stuff in charity and philanthropy these days, after I got great personal satisfaction in helping to set up and guide CanTeen’s development in Australia during the early nineties.
Have also been and continue to be very involved with Rotary International.
In addition to our soon to be married daughter, we also have a son, who is 24 and who after completing two degrees in Business and in
Biomedical Science (with first class honours) got one of only four quite prestigious scholarships offered in Australia and is currently doing his PhD (to do with blood cancer) in medical research, at the Walter and Eliza Institute for Medical Research in Melb. (gets his brains from his Mum, not me that’s for sure). – Yes, Steve, we are obviously proud of our kids achievements so far, both for themselves and for others.
That’s enufff from meself.
Keep Well, Take Care and once again, thank you !!!! for the great job you are doing.
Kind Regards,
Trevor (almost a Senior and old fart) White
However, I am not sure yet if I can make the next reunion as our daughter (who is 27 and has been working for the ANZ Bank in India for the past year, returns to Aussie late Sept ) is getting married on 3rd October 2009 and we will be busy in Melb the weekend of the reunion finalising “stuff”.
Will see if I can get a brief leave pass to attend the reunion- but will have to be a very, very good boy – which is almost impossible for me at the best of times.
Am alive and very well, keeping active bicycle riding around 120 klms each week, swimming ,play tennis, bush walking and occasional surf , but water tooooo cold in Melb.
My wife Judy (who I am proud to say only took 4.5 kgs of total luggage ( including lip gloss) with her compared to my 6kgs) and I trekked , kayaked, bused, biked, walked, climbed etc around Cambodia, Vietnam , Laos and Sth. India for a few months earlier this year, then ( as I had been a good boy) I was allowed to go surfing in Lombok with Coleman and Murphy in May.
A very brief update on Whitey from Melb follows :
I retired (hooray) from fulltime working for $ about seven years ago, after years of valium intake running international businesses.
Then did some lecturing across various facets of business at Melb Uni (which I stopped last year). Continue to do lots of pro bono stuff in charity and philanthropy these days, after I got great personal satisfaction in helping to set up and guide CanTeen’s development in Australia during the early nineties.
Have also been and continue to be very involved with Rotary International.
In addition to our soon to be married daughter, we also have a son, who is 24 and who after completing two degrees in Business and in
Biomedical Science (with first class honours) got one of only four quite prestigious scholarships offered in Australia and is currently doing his PhD (to do with blood cancer) in medical research, at the Walter and Eliza Institute for Medical Research in Melb. (gets his brains from his Mum, not me that’s for sure). – Yes, Steve, we are obviously proud of our kids achievements so far, both for themselves and for others.
That’s enufff from meself.
Keep Well, Take Care and once again, thank you !!!! for the great job you are doing.
Kind Regards,
Trevor (almost a Senior and old fart) White
Ken McLean explains...
... why he can't make the next Reunion.
"Phil Meade sent me the details of the event.I doubt whether I will have dug the car out of the f...... snowdrift and got through the pack ice in time to make it. Actually we will be exploring the eastern rockies in the Jasper National Park in September."
This is probably not Ken, though travel can change people.
Is this Ken's weekender at Eastport?
"Phil Meade sent me the details of the event.I doubt whether I will have dug the car out of the f...... snowdrift and got through the pack ice in time to make it. Actually we will be exploring the eastern rockies in the Jasper National Park in September."
This is probably not Ken, though travel can change people.
Is this Ken's weekender at Eastport?
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