Chris Sear - Memories of Croxley Green
1950's
I was born into a family of farmers. My paternal grandfather was ‘Nabby’ (Harry) Sear mentioned elsewhere in this history project. He married Minnie Ellen Lichfield from Shelford, Cambridgeshire in 1910 and fathered two sons, Clement (Clem) my father and Terrence (Terry) my uncle. Nabby took several land army girls to help with the farm during WW2 and one of them, Phyllis Newell, married Clem and they brought me into the world in February 1947. My sister Rachel followed two years later. My birth was notable and often recounted in family circles: I was bright yellow with jaundice upon arrival and when I was transported from my birthplace (Shrodells Hospital, now known as Watford General Hospital) to my home in Croxley Green my father had to use a horse-and-cart, the safest way to navigate the deep snows of one of the worst winters of the century!
My earliest memories are from the time Clem and Terry shared a house at the top of Scots Hill: Scots Hill Dairy, which fronted a milking parlour located behind, near the site of the old mill. This enabled the family’s cows to be milked, by herding them from their pastures at Red Heath via the Sarratt Road and down Croxley Green to Scots Hill, and back again, twice a day! I wasn’t very interested, but I was aware of the cows’ presence during the morning and evenings.
I was much more interested in smoking, as both my father and uncle seemed to smoke pipes all day long. I remember my uncle thinking it would be fun to let me try it, so he filled a small toy pipe with tobacco and lit it for me. As soon as it entered my mouth I was coughing and spluttering with the foul smoke. My mother was furious with my uncle for lighting a pipe for a 4-year old, but I lost my interest in smoking!
The other memory from these times was that my mother and auntie Marion (uncle Terry’s wife) were always working, wearing highly colourful pinafores. In particular, water was always being boiled for washing clothes on a large gas hob, a very dangerous job involving the immersion and repeated lifting in and out of the men’s work clothes. I had to keep well away, but once the clothes were rinsed in clean water I could approach and witness the use of the ‘mangle’ - a roller machine that squeezed out most of the water. I remember my mother and auntie turning the large wheel on the mangle and how hot and tired it made them.
My earliest memories are from the time Clem and Terry shared a house at the top of Scots Hill: Scots Hill Dairy, which fronted a milking parlour located behind, near the site of the old mill. This enabled the family’s cows to be milked, by herding them from their pastures at Red Heath via the Sarratt Road and down Croxley Green to Scots Hill, and back again, twice a day! I wasn’t very interested, but I was aware of the cows’ presence during the morning and evenings.
I was much more interested in smoking, as both my father and uncle seemed to smoke pipes all day long. I remember my uncle thinking it would be fun to let me try it, so he filled a small toy pipe with tobacco and lit it for me. As soon as it entered my mouth I was coughing and spluttering with the foul smoke. My mother was furious with my uncle for lighting a pipe for a 4-year old, but I lost my interest in smoking!
The other memory from these times was that my mother and auntie Marion (uncle Terry’s wife) were always working, wearing highly colourful pinafores. In particular, water was always being boiled for washing clothes on a large gas hob, a very dangerous job involving the immersion and repeated lifting in and out of the men’s work clothes. I had to keep well away, but once the clothes were rinsed in clean water I could approach and witness the use of the ‘mangle’ - a roller machine that squeezed out most of the water. I remember my mother and auntie turning the large wheel on the mangle and how hot and tired it made them.
An old mangle from Chris' memories
My next memory was being wheeled by my mother in a large pushchair up The Green to visit our new house – Lovatts Cottage (see Croxley Farms). I was 4 years old, so this was 1951. I remember my mother being happy to have her own house to run – it must have been a strain for the two growing Sear families living together on Scots Hill. As he was the elder son, my father agreed to live next-door to his parents at Lovatts Farm, so that he could ‘keep an eye’ on them, as they were both in their 70’s. Sure enough, my grandfather Nabby died the next year, and my grandmother died 3 years later. I remember my grandfather being a stout, genial character of very few words, whereas my grandmother was generally feared by all with a habit of leaning on the farmyard gate shouting unceremoniously at passers-by! But she taught my mother to cook.
The loss of their parents encouraged my father and his brother to think about business expansion. They bought Quill Hall Farm at Amersham-on-the-Hill and set up a new dairy and arable farming business: C & T Sear. My uncle’s family moved from Croxley Green to Amersham, and the extended family resides there to this day. My family remained at Lovatts Cottage on The Green and so my father commuted nine miles, to-and-fro to his farm, every day!
When I was 7 years old I remember a very dramatic day on the farm. The harvest had produced several stacks (or ‘ricks’) of wheat sheaves, but we only had a tractor-drawn ‘reaper’ for cutting the crop. Sheaving and stacking were done by hand. So, a contractor was hired. He had a threshing machine powered by a green Field-Marshall tractor, via a belt drive. To my young eyes this combination was a monstrous marvel – it miraculously changed sheaves of corn into bags of grain and bales of straws. To my ears it made a new musical noise of agricultural power – the ‘lumping’ of the thresher and the deep ‘plopping’ of the tractor with its fat exhaust stack that made it sound completely different to the Fordson and Ferguson tractors we had at the time. And the air was thick with the memorable smells of tractor grease and threshing dust!
The loss of their parents encouraged my father and his brother to think about business expansion. They bought Quill Hall Farm at Amersham-on-the-Hill and set up a new dairy and arable farming business: C & T Sear. My uncle’s family moved from Croxley Green to Amersham, and the extended family resides there to this day. My family remained at Lovatts Cottage on The Green and so my father commuted nine miles, to-and-fro to his farm, every day!
When I was 7 years old I remember a very dramatic day on the farm. The harvest had produced several stacks (or ‘ricks’) of wheat sheaves, but we only had a tractor-drawn ‘reaper’ for cutting the crop. Sheaving and stacking were done by hand. So, a contractor was hired. He had a threshing machine powered by a green Field-Marshall tractor, via a belt drive. To my young eyes this combination was a monstrous marvel – it miraculously changed sheaves of corn into bags of grain and bales of straws. To my ears it made a new musical noise of agricultural power – the ‘lumping’ of the thresher and the deep ‘plopping’ of the tractor with its fat exhaust stack that made it sound completely different to the Fordson and Ferguson tractors we had at the time. And the air was thick with the memorable smells of tractor grease and threshing dust!
A green tractor and threshing machine from Chris' memories
Another memory from around this time – I think I was about eight years old and my sister was six – was a terrible Christmas when both our parents contracted pneumonia and had to spend the holiday in hospital. My sister and I were packed off to an old family friend in New Road near the railway station. Although well-advanced in years, she and her husband looked after us well and made sure we had a warm and comfortable Christmas.
Of particular note was the television – the first we had seen! We spent every evening watching the first TV programmes broadcast by the BBC. They took our minds off our personal predicament! Two programmes are particularly memorable. The first was a product of what we now call the ‘Cold War’ and the fear of armed invasion from communist Russia. It was horrific – a government public awareness and education film that simulated the effect of a nuclear bomb blast over London – the flash, the wind and the devastation – they are etched on my mind to this day.
The second was far more pleasurable and amazingly prophetic! At this time, Wilfred Pickles, famed for his radio show “Have A Go” was starting his new TV show, “Ask Pickles” with his wife Mabel ‘at the table’. We watched the Christmas edition and were surprised to see and hear Barry Huband, Head Chorister from the choir at All Saints Church, Croxley Green sing “O for the Wings of a Dove”. Barry had a beautiful treble voice and had been trained by the All Saints choirmaster Louis Horton, who also appeared on the show. Although I didn’t realise it then, the programme was prophetic because some six years later I became Head Chorister of that same choir under the inspired leadership of Mr Horton. This will be described in greater detail later.
The first school I attended was Yorke Road Infants School but due to overcrowding in our schools in the early-1950’s, my last year was spent at the ‘Old Boys’ School on Watford Road. This was nostalgic for my father who had also attended this school in his childhood, with memories of the famed ‘Neggy’ Wilson.
When I was about eight years old I was transferred to Harvey Road Junior School where Mr Ford was headmaster. I remember being taught by Mr Tidder (who made sure we all took our studies very seriously!) and in the last year by the kindly Mr Powell. I wasn’t judged to be bright enough for the first stream under Miss Green, but Mr Powell was perfect for me and he coached me successfully through the 11+ written examinations and the subsequent interview stage. While I was at Harvey Road I developed an interest in music – by learning to play the descant recorder and joining the All Saints Church Choir. I also built my first radio and, when I got it to work, listened spell-bound to Beethoven’s 7th symphony – particularly the bitter-sweet second movement. I was now seriously ‘into’ music!
Of particular note was the television – the first we had seen! We spent every evening watching the first TV programmes broadcast by the BBC. They took our minds off our personal predicament! Two programmes are particularly memorable. The first was a product of what we now call the ‘Cold War’ and the fear of armed invasion from communist Russia. It was horrific – a government public awareness and education film that simulated the effect of a nuclear bomb blast over London – the flash, the wind and the devastation – they are etched on my mind to this day.
The second was far more pleasurable and amazingly prophetic! At this time, Wilfred Pickles, famed for his radio show “Have A Go” was starting his new TV show, “Ask Pickles” with his wife Mabel ‘at the table’. We watched the Christmas edition and were surprised to see and hear Barry Huband, Head Chorister from the choir at All Saints Church, Croxley Green sing “O for the Wings of a Dove”. Barry had a beautiful treble voice and had been trained by the All Saints choirmaster Louis Horton, who also appeared on the show. Although I didn’t realise it then, the programme was prophetic because some six years later I became Head Chorister of that same choir under the inspired leadership of Mr Horton. This will be described in greater detail later.
The first school I attended was Yorke Road Infants School but due to overcrowding in our schools in the early-1950’s, my last year was spent at the ‘Old Boys’ School on Watford Road. This was nostalgic for my father who had also attended this school in his childhood, with memories of the famed ‘Neggy’ Wilson.
When I was about eight years old I was transferred to Harvey Road Junior School where Mr Ford was headmaster. I remember being taught by Mr Tidder (who made sure we all took our studies very seriously!) and in the last year by the kindly Mr Powell. I wasn’t judged to be bright enough for the first stream under Miss Green, but Mr Powell was perfect for me and he coached me successfully through the 11+ written examinations and the subsequent interview stage. While I was at Harvey Road I developed an interest in music – by learning to play the descant recorder and joining the All Saints Church Choir. I also built my first radio and, when I got it to work, listened spell-bound to Beethoven’s 7th symphony – particularly the bitter-sweet second movement. I was now seriously ‘into’ music!
1960's
Having passed the 11-plus I was able to go to the new Rickmansworth Grammar School (RGS) that had been built, as part of the post-war push for more and better educational opportunities, at the top of Scots Hill. I was initially in Mr Preston’s form (1P) with a lively student group comprising, among the boys: John Warren, ‘Banger’ Wilson, Ken Ward, David Gardiner, Neil Heartburn, Michael Westcott, James White, David Sydenham, Hayes, Beeson, Turnbull, Paddington; and among the girls: Barbara Hutton, Sheila Moore, Linda Warren. Unfortunately, I have no photograph from that period.
Mr Preston was our form master until he married the chemistry teacher, Miss Harry, and then he moved on to another school. He was replaced by Dr Watson who shepherded us through O-levels in form 5W. Most of 5W and Dr Watson are shown in the photograph below.
Mr Preston was our form master until he married the chemistry teacher, Miss Harry, and then he moved on to another school. He was replaced by Dr Watson who shepherded us through O-levels in form 5W. Most of 5W and Dr Watson are shown in the photograph below.
Chris Sear form photograph at Rickmansworth Grammar School
Dr Watson was a retired industrial chemist. A little ponderous for some, but for me, a great teacher, facilitating an early interest in chemistry that became my professional career. He made chemistry come ‘alive’ with memorable practical demonstrations and stories from his career, including how the stock market worked! Importantly, he also taught me how to write systematic notes that became my own textbook – so that revision was organised, comprehensive and successful! I use the same principles of note-taking today, in my professional life. Other notable teachers who taught me great things during this time were Dr. Nigam (meticulous mathematics), Mr. Stowe (adventurous geography), Mrs Preston (chemistry), Mr Flint (physics), Mr Abrams (music), Mr Benson (Spanish), Mr Rowlands (English). Mr Pascoe tried to teach me French, with great physical expression, but failed!
Mr Abrams, as Head of Music and conductor of the school orchestra, was delighted when I expressed an interest in learning the oboe! At that time Hertfordshire County Council had a touring orchestra that visited secondary schools so that all pupils had the opportunity of hearing live classical music. At one such concert in the school hall, I heard Schubert’s Great C Major symphony for the first time. In several movements, the oboe has prominent solo passages and I fell under the spell of this strangely soulful, penetrating sound. I think I was the first oboist at RGS. I soon learned why: oboes have a narrow conical bore which makes them difficult to make and very expensive to purchase - my parents struggled to buy a slightly damaged one that took 3 years to pay for! They are also fiendishly difficult to play – requiring enormous ‘puff’ to get a noise out of the double reed (which you have to learn to trim to your particular embouchure) and then to modulate the noise into musical notes with the right dynamics using the labyrinth of some 60 keys. Leon Goossens was my oboe hero at this time and listening to him play his oboe concerto told me how much I had to learn! But learn I did, the school having access to an oboe teacher (Mr. Kepple?) who spent an hour with me every week. After about 2 years I made the instrument sound like an oboe, progressing to Grade 8 during my time at RGS and playing in several ‘outside’ venues with some measure of success. When I was about 15 years old my oboe teacher gave me good advice: “Sear, you are a very good oboist, but you are not brilliant! So don’t pursue it as a career”. Although I was somewhat gutted to be told this, I knew he was right. My tone was good but my breathing and air pressure management were not strong enough. So I gave up any notions of becoming a professional musician and focussed on science from then on, following in the paths of my excellent teachers in the RGS Science Department.
I did well enough with my O-levels to go on to 6th form studies at RGS in Miss Ship’s form – a much smaller group of very able students, all hoping to go on to university. My memories are of excellent specialist tuition and course work (for me, in chemistry, physics and mathematics) but mixed in with broader-based general studies which included sport (I started a cycling club with John Freer) but also an ‘O’ level in the Use of English where I remember being asked to read out rather ‘adult’ passages from Dylan Thomas’ ‘Under Milk Wood’, and a biographical account of changing farming practices in mid-20th century England – which I understood perfectly well from my very personal perspective. The two years of 6th form studies at RGS were rather successful in that 4 of us did well enough at ‘A’ and ‘S’ level to win places at Cambridge colleges: Alan Smith (Downing), Colin Judkins (Churchill), David Norton (Peterhouse) and myself (Clare). Smith and I had to spend another year in a ‘3rd year sixth’ at RGS in order to obtain a second foreign language ‘O’ level (a rather antiquated regulation of Cambridge at that time). We both chose Spanish and were taught by Mr Benson and Mr Fotiades, a delightfully expressive Greek national whose family had emigrated to the UK due to WW2. This work was extra to their normal curricula duties and my parents were pleased to pay our tutors an honorarium, as suggested by the Headmaster, Mr Morrell. We both passed the examination and duly went up to Cambridge in 1966 – but that is beyond the scope of this memoir.
In addition to the above, my memories of 6th form study at RGS include starting a radio club under the accommodating eye of Mr Flint, where pupils could gather after school hours in the physics labs and enjoy the smell of molten solder making or just fiddling with radio circuits. I made a short-wave set that received broadcasts from all over the world. With another radio enthusiast (Forbes) we planned to make and locate a radio-telescope on the science block roof, but that project failed to gain school support. Instead, I made and later presented to the school a 6-inch Newtonian reflecting telescope – for use in physics classes and real astronomical observation if future students were interested.
Mr Abrams, as Head of Music and conductor of the school orchestra, was delighted when I expressed an interest in learning the oboe! At that time Hertfordshire County Council had a touring orchestra that visited secondary schools so that all pupils had the opportunity of hearing live classical music. At one such concert in the school hall, I heard Schubert’s Great C Major symphony for the first time. In several movements, the oboe has prominent solo passages and I fell under the spell of this strangely soulful, penetrating sound. I think I was the first oboist at RGS. I soon learned why: oboes have a narrow conical bore which makes them difficult to make and very expensive to purchase - my parents struggled to buy a slightly damaged one that took 3 years to pay for! They are also fiendishly difficult to play – requiring enormous ‘puff’ to get a noise out of the double reed (which you have to learn to trim to your particular embouchure) and then to modulate the noise into musical notes with the right dynamics using the labyrinth of some 60 keys. Leon Goossens was my oboe hero at this time and listening to him play his oboe concerto told me how much I had to learn! But learn I did, the school having access to an oboe teacher (Mr. Kepple?) who spent an hour with me every week. After about 2 years I made the instrument sound like an oboe, progressing to Grade 8 during my time at RGS and playing in several ‘outside’ venues with some measure of success. When I was about 15 years old my oboe teacher gave me good advice: “Sear, you are a very good oboist, but you are not brilliant! So don’t pursue it as a career”. Although I was somewhat gutted to be told this, I knew he was right. My tone was good but my breathing and air pressure management were not strong enough. So I gave up any notions of becoming a professional musician and focussed on science from then on, following in the paths of my excellent teachers in the RGS Science Department.
I did well enough with my O-levels to go on to 6th form studies at RGS in Miss Ship’s form – a much smaller group of very able students, all hoping to go on to university. My memories are of excellent specialist tuition and course work (for me, in chemistry, physics and mathematics) but mixed in with broader-based general studies which included sport (I started a cycling club with John Freer) but also an ‘O’ level in the Use of English where I remember being asked to read out rather ‘adult’ passages from Dylan Thomas’ ‘Under Milk Wood’, and a biographical account of changing farming practices in mid-20th century England – which I understood perfectly well from my very personal perspective. The two years of 6th form studies at RGS were rather successful in that 4 of us did well enough at ‘A’ and ‘S’ level to win places at Cambridge colleges: Alan Smith (Downing), Colin Judkins (Churchill), David Norton (Peterhouse) and myself (Clare). Smith and I had to spend another year in a ‘3rd year sixth’ at RGS in order to obtain a second foreign language ‘O’ level (a rather antiquated regulation of Cambridge at that time). We both chose Spanish and were taught by Mr Benson and Mr Fotiades, a delightfully expressive Greek national whose family had emigrated to the UK due to WW2. This work was extra to their normal curricula duties and my parents were pleased to pay our tutors an honorarium, as suggested by the Headmaster, Mr Morrell. We both passed the examination and duly went up to Cambridge in 1966 – but that is beyond the scope of this memoir.
In addition to the above, my memories of 6th form study at RGS include starting a radio club under the accommodating eye of Mr Flint, where pupils could gather after school hours in the physics labs and enjoy the smell of molten solder making or just fiddling with radio circuits. I made a short-wave set that received broadcasts from all over the world. With another radio enthusiast (Forbes) we planned to make and locate a radio-telescope on the science block roof, but that project failed to gain school support. Instead, I made and later presented to the school a 6-inch Newtonian reflecting telescope – for use in physics classes and real astronomical observation if future students were interested.
All Saints Church Choir
Around the time I left Harvey Road and started secondary school at RGS I joined the treble choir at All Saints Church, as a probationer. I knew nothing about church music but knew that I liked harmonic sound, and my parents approved of it. Like most church choirs at that time, the boy trebles were the mainstay of the choir. No girls were allowed to “lessen the quality of male treble sound” (!) and full four-part harmony was achieved with altos (retired trebles) plus male tenor and bass voices. Barry Huband (of Wilfred Pickles TV fame, mentioned above) was an occasional alto when I joined, Mr Cutler a notable tenor and Mr Wilson (?) a memorable bass. The Choirmaster was Louis Horton (‘Sir’ to us choristers), a somewhat stern and private man associated with the printing industry, but a man of strong faith and a ‘calling’ to bring congregations together with music. Also, a skilled teacher, gifted with a rigorous but inspirational way of turning young boys into musicians.
Sir’s care started with his car – a Lancaster tourer of the 1950’s with a steering wheel gear change (unique and so smooth!) – in which he toured Croxley Green to collect his out-lying choristers for practice every Wednesday and Friday. Also, for Sunday morning and evening services; and the ride was always 2-way! I believe he did this not only as a practical necessity (buses and choristers’ parents were too unreliable!) but also to demonstrate to us boys the need for absolute commitment to this job. To press that home, he insisted that every chorister had to choose between the choir OR cubs and scouts OR any other ‘club’ – we would not be able to do both. As we progressed through the choir and became teenagers, it became obvious why this was – our service had to be reliable and as close to perfect as possible: performed every week without fail. Sir provided much of the sheet music for anthems and special pieces and the church provided the rest: hymn books, psalters and chants (the 4-part plainsong-like music to which canticles and psalms are sung).
Wednesday practice was for trebles only and we congregated between 7.00 and 8.00 pm at the ‘organ end’ of the church where there was a piano also – for choir practice. The ‘organ end’ was near the main entrance to the church and as far away from the choir stalls as was possible – an unfortunate design feature of All Saints. We would practise the music for the coming Sunday’s services and special events on the church calendar requiring musical celebration, with Sir instructing, conducting and playing the piano. Wednesday practice was to introduce us to the forthcoming music and highlight any potential problems that might be foreseen.
Friday practice was for trebles first at about 6.30 pm, with the other voices joining us later, at 7.30pm, to achieve a full choir practice. The Friday practice was conducted in the choir stalls with the organist present also, at a distance of about 30 m filled by the vaulted nave! This separation of organ from choir was the largest challenge this church choir faced and was overcome with meticulous practice, and considerable stress between Sir and the distant organist (who was never really well known to us, so far away and partly hidden by the organ itself!). Nevertheless, the choir, under Sir’s talented direction did well, produced beautiful musical renderings of the Anglican liturgy and became and remained an affiliated choir of the Royal School of Church Music (RSCM). These may have been the choir’s golden years, all due to the inspired leadership and energy of one man – Louis Horton.
To ensure the quality of the treble choir’s singing, Sir instituted the ‘Angel Choir’ which comprised the six most experienced and gifted choristers: the Head Chorister and five others. The Angel Choir attended a third practice session every Saturday evening, at Sir’s home. Sir lived frugally with his mother and sister but they always welcomed us to their home and provided tea and cakes at ‘half time’. The front living room was given over to music with an upright piano, six chairs for the choir members and piles of sheet music. The Angel Choir rehearsed particularly difficult passages and new music that Sir was thinking about introducing. We also learned more about the music itself but, most memorably, were made to feel part of Sir’s family. In many ways this ‘communion’ was the best part of being a chorister at All Saints Church.
One reminiscence is worth recording: it highlights the musicianship and great diplomacy of Sir in the face of ‘authority’! It occurred at the time of a visit by the musical ‘examiner’ from the RSCM, in which the full choir had to sing a complete service, solely for the examiner to assess whether we were worthy of continuing affiliation. All went well until the examiner commented on the anthem we had sung, Vaughan-Williams’ “O taste and see”, a beautiful motet written for Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation. The examiner was critical of this anthem: not the way we had sung it, but because Sir had chosen it! Didn’t we know that Vaughan-Williams had lived long enough to realise that most of his music was a ‘mistake’?! The church fell silent: we couldn’t believe our ears and Sir went red in the face. Then he said something in defence of his choice that I do not remember, after which there was another silence. Then the examiner summed up and confirmed our RSCM affiliation. After the examiner had left, Sir thanked us for our good performance and explained that he had never before heard such a criticism of Vaughan-William’s music, because he was widely acknowledged as one of the greatest and most-loved of all 20th century British composers! The examiner had expressed a personal and prejudiced opinion, but Sir had remained calm, said nothing inflammatory and retained the choir’s good standing with the RSCM.
Sir’s care started with his car – a Lancaster tourer of the 1950’s with a steering wheel gear change (unique and so smooth!) – in which he toured Croxley Green to collect his out-lying choristers for practice every Wednesday and Friday. Also, for Sunday morning and evening services; and the ride was always 2-way! I believe he did this not only as a practical necessity (buses and choristers’ parents were too unreliable!) but also to demonstrate to us boys the need for absolute commitment to this job. To press that home, he insisted that every chorister had to choose between the choir OR cubs and scouts OR any other ‘club’ – we would not be able to do both. As we progressed through the choir and became teenagers, it became obvious why this was – our service had to be reliable and as close to perfect as possible: performed every week without fail. Sir provided much of the sheet music for anthems and special pieces and the church provided the rest: hymn books, psalters and chants (the 4-part plainsong-like music to which canticles and psalms are sung).
Wednesday practice was for trebles only and we congregated between 7.00 and 8.00 pm at the ‘organ end’ of the church where there was a piano also – for choir practice. The ‘organ end’ was near the main entrance to the church and as far away from the choir stalls as was possible – an unfortunate design feature of All Saints. We would practise the music for the coming Sunday’s services and special events on the church calendar requiring musical celebration, with Sir instructing, conducting and playing the piano. Wednesday practice was to introduce us to the forthcoming music and highlight any potential problems that might be foreseen.
Friday practice was for trebles first at about 6.30 pm, with the other voices joining us later, at 7.30pm, to achieve a full choir practice. The Friday practice was conducted in the choir stalls with the organist present also, at a distance of about 30 m filled by the vaulted nave! This separation of organ from choir was the largest challenge this church choir faced and was overcome with meticulous practice, and considerable stress between Sir and the distant organist (who was never really well known to us, so far away and partly hidden by the organ itself!). Nevertheless, the choir, under Sir’s talented direction did well, produced beautiful musical renderings of the Anglican liturgy and became and remained an affiliated choir of the Royal School of Church Music (RSCM). These may have been the choir’s golden years, all due to the inspired leadership and energy of one man – Louis Horton.
To ensure the quality of the treble choir’s singing, Sir instituted the ‘Angel Choir’ which comprised the six most experienced and gifted choristers: the Head Chorister and five others. The Angel Choir attended a third practice session every Saturday evening, at Sir’s home. Sir lived frugally with his mother and sister but they always welcomed us to their home and provided tea and cakes at ‘half time’. The front living room was given over to music with an upright piano, six chairs for the choir members and piles of sheet music. The Angel Choir rehearsed particularly difficult passages and new music that Sir was thinking about introducing. We also learned more about the music itself but, most memorably, were made to feel part of Sir’s family. In many ways this ‘communion’ was the best part of being a chorister at All Saints Church.
One reminiscence is worth recording: it highlights the musicianship and great diplomacy of Sir in the face of ‘authority’! It occurred at the time of a visit by the musical ‘examiner’ from the RSCM, in which the full choir had to sing a complete service, solely for the examiner to assess whether we were worthy of continuing affiliation. All went well until the examiner commented on the anthem we had sung, Vaughan-Williams’ “O taste and see”, a beautiful motet written for Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation. The examiner was critical of this anthem: not the way we had sung it, but because Sir had chosen it! Didn’t we know that Vaughan-Williams had lived long enough to realise that most of his music was a ‘mistake’?! The church fell silent: we couldn’t believe our ears and Sir went red in the face. Then he said something in defence of his choice that I do not remember, after which there was another silence. Then the examiner summed up and confirmed our RSCM affiliation. After the examiner had left, Sir thanked us for our good performance and explained that he had never before heard such a criticism of Vaughan-William’s music, because he was widely acknowledged as one of the greatest and most-loved of all 20th century British composers! The examiner had expressed a personal and prejudiced opinion, but Sir had remained calm, said nothing inflammatory and retained the choir’s good standing with the RSCM.
