Gwen’s Musical Life Story
A transcription of the tapes recorded by GMA
This transcription commenced Saturday 6th December 2003
Part I: 1909 to 1935.
Greetings to all those who may listen to this in the future. They are the reminiscences of yours truly Gwen Archer, aged 91. The date is Monday 25th September in the year 2000.
I’m doing this because I’ve recently commented on the family photo albums, and I thought perhaps my life in general, and my musical life in particular, may be of interest to some of you.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.
My memory goes back, the earliest, to 1914, when we lived at “Harefield” in Montyfall Road, Hove. My memories are not very good. I can remember in 1914 being taken down to the front to see the English fleet all lit up. This was meant to impress the Kaiser who was being rather war-like in those days, and because of the threat of war we had military bands around. And I can remember hearing the music and being thrilled by a military band on the lawns at Hove in the bandstand. Those are really my earliest musical memories.
As to other memories, I can remember straw on the roads outside the house of somebody who was very ill, to relieve the noise of wheels on hard roads. I can remember water carts spraying the roads in summer to keep the dust down. And of course I can remember the horse buses. The other thing I remember, we did in those early days have a piano, which I’ve realised since, was a very good one. It was a Kirkman, which is now considered a very good make. And I can remember trying to pick out the tunes that I had heard, and (I can remember) buglers blowing in the park not so very far from the house.
But, I think because I suffered various illnesses (I had measles with complications, and I had whooping cough with complications, pneumonia and …) and that left me with some gland problem, which a doctor eliminated not very skilfully, which left with a scar which I was very aware of for the rest of my life, and I was always scared of seeing a man in a white coat. And I can remember the smell of chloroform. That’s one of my early recollections, and not a very pleasant one.
But then, in 19……, I remember too, at that house (Montyfall Road, Hove, presumably, pba), hearing my father sing. I think what musical instincts I had, or have, came from him, because apparently he was very popular at smoking concerts. I don’t think it was very popular with Mother, but he had a very good voice. I think he’d had no musical tuition at all, but he sang light songs. I can remember some of them. And he imitated cockney songs rather cleverly (such as those [pba]) of a man by the name of Albert Chevalier, who wrote “Knocked ‘em in the Old Kent Road” and “Daisy Daisy”. And also I can remember him whistling lovely tunes from “The Merry Widow”, and also other musical comedies which later on I was able to play from the score.
Those are really my only recollections of Harefield in Hove, because, in 1916 we moved to James Avenue, at Cricklewood, near the business my father was helped into by Jim Rice (I think I’ve mentioned this in my other recollections). But because of that (it was an estate agent’s business, near Willesden Green station), we moved up into the bombing of London. It wasn’t as bad as the bombing in the Second World War, but it was our first experience of anything like that. But it did mean that I went to school for the first time. That was when I was seven. And I also had piano lessons in 1916, as soon as we got up there. And I did have a very good teacher, a Miss Green, who was a cinema pianist. In those days it was a way of earning money, but a very hard way. But she was a good teacher, and she put me in for Grade I, in 1917, and I still have the music which I played for that. And I remember being very awe-inspired by the Royal Academy of Music, in Marylebone Road, where the exam was held. That was my recollection, my first real music recollection in Cricklewood.
And at that time, my father used to take me, young though I was, up to the Queen’s Hall, and Sir Henry Wood’s concerts, not the promenade concerts. I don’t remember going to a promenade. At least we always sat. And I heard Leonard Borwick. That was my first memory: being so thrilled with the piano. And he played the third Beethoven concerto, the C Minor, which has been a favourite of mine ever since.
And I remember going to a Parkman recital. Now, he was a real eccentric pianist, and he’d go out, off the platform if the stool wasn’t quite the right height, and get somebody to come in and alter it for him. But he played Chopin most beautifully. But you could call him a bit of a showman. And of course the orchestra was the Henry Wood orchestra, and I remember him: a little dapper man who used to walk very briskly on and off the platform. And I so enjoyed those concerts, and of course I was at a very impressionable age. And I just loved learning the piano.
But, in 1918, the raids were getting worse, and father, he wasn’t called up, because he was a one-man business, he wasn’t called up to the army, but he had to (be a) warden….. what do you call it? Air raid warden …… he was always called out every air raid, and he saw some ghastly things. Maida Vale I remember was a hot spot. And, as a family we used to go down always on the ground level at the adjoining walls where we hoped to be safer. Those were my recollections. That was in James Avenue, Cricklewood.
Well, then we didn’t know of course that the war was going to end in 1918, but to get some respite from the raids, we moved to a little flat in Merstham. Now the picture of this little flat is in one of the albums you will have seen. And I changed schools of course, and had to go to Redhill, and I used to cycle from Merstham, to a convent called St Joseph’s convent, and I hear it is still there. Whether it is still a school, I don’t know. And I did have a very good teacher there who got me through the next exam or two. And I had to go as far as Reading to take the Associated Board exams, I remember that.
And at this time my father loved to go down the road from his office to a music shop by the name of Langley. You used to go in those days into a cubicle and hear records; of course 78 rpm records. We had a little wind-up gramophone, and I can remember hearing the overtures that I now hear, I can remember hearing them for the first time on this gramophone. You see there was no wireless, and the only music you heard was by going to a concert or (hearing) a 78 record. And of course the 78 records had to be a certain length. So sometimes the score was changed slightly to get one movement on one side, or … and so that when you turned over it wasn’t too noticeable a break. But that was a great joy to me when he used to bring home, down to Merstham this was, these various records, and that’s where I heard for the first time many of the great works. Perhaps not a whole symphony but …part of a Tchaikovsky symphony, and lovely overtures and singing and so on, and that fed my appetite for music.
And also, an interesting item here, I made friends at this convent with Eileen Cawley. I think I’ve spoken of her, and you’ve seen photographs of her, in the albums, and they lived at Redhill, and were very comfortably off, had a car and chauffeur, and so on, and I used to love going there to tea. And they also had what you probably have not heard of, and Edward had not heard of, I think it was called a phonograph. I can’t remember the exact name, but you sat each side of the fire, and had a sort of double earphone, you held them with your hand, a handle, with earphones, and by paying a fee, I suppose a regular fee, I don’t know what it was, you could plug in, or ask by telephone, to listen to various plays that were being run in London. And it was a very wonderful thing really, but I’ve never ever heard anybody talk about it. But these friends had that facility, and it was rather fun. I used to listen sometimes.
And also another thing that interested me much was that they had a pianola, and it was the first pianola I had ever seen or heard, and it gave me great pleasure to hear her father playing this instrument.
Another recollection around this period, around the end of the First World War, of course was the Asian ‘flu epidemic. Now fortunately we missed that. We had scarlet fever, but we missed the Asian ‘flu. But we lived on the main London Road, which led eventually to the old parish church. And I can remember the funerals that used to pass our house every day up to the old church. And I can remember the celebrations for the peace or armistice. I remember going up to Trafalgar Square. The crowds weren’t as they are today. There weren’t so many people around.
Anyhow that finishes my recollections at Merstham. And somehow, I don’t know how we lived in such a tiny flat, except that Vincent went to boarding school at Brighton, and we managed somehow. And I remember my friend Eileen Cawley who had this lovely house at Redhill, she used to love to come and have tea, and we used to go cycle rides together, in fact as a family we loved cycling. Eventually my father did buy a motorcycle, which I think I’ve talked about on my other tape. But in a way we enjoyed Merstham, because the war was over. But, I’m speaking now of 1918 and 1919, well then in 1920, we went back to Cricklewood to be near my father’s office at Willesden Green, so we moved to Melrose Avenue, and I went to Wickham House School, which I liked, and that’s where I met Dorothy Ingels. And I learned the piano from one of the staff. I can remember her name, a Miss Denton, and although she got me through advanced grade with distinction, she terrified me and I was no longer happy having my lessons, and mother had to do something about it.
And it was then that my father suggested I took some lessons from the daughter of the music shop, Mildred Langley. Now she was a brilliant pianist, but not the classical concert hall pianist, more music hall piano playing. I thing she’d done quite a bit of it. She was quite brilliant, but useless as a teacher, and I really didn’t progress at all. She couldn’t teach the elements of touch or technique and I eventually found somebody, I don’t know how it was, and I went up, I think Philip will remember this, I used to go up to Percy Street, in the Bloomsbury area, off the Tottenham Court Road, (to lessons with) Miss Grigg. She did a lot for me. And I got through the next exam with her.
But I’m rather skipping because between 1920 and the time I’m speaking of, Raymond was born, in 1922.. And my father did take me up to concerts occasionally. I remember seeing Sibelius conduct, and Albert Coates, the great conductor, and even Richard Strauss, all at The Queen’s Hall.
And the other sounds I can remember, we used to have various people coming down the road calling out: Scissors to grind! and Lavender for sale! And a barrel organ used to come down once a week. And as Raymond has written in his journal, he was terrified by one poor man who had no nose, and he was really frightened of him.
Well then this brings me up to the time when I left school. I left school very early. You remember I was seven when I went to school, and I was only fifteen when I left. Now I shall never fully understand why my father allowed me to leave school so early. Only that because music was the one subject I was any good at, and I wanted to specialise, and he led me to believe that I might go, or would go to a music college of some kind, either The Academy …… Incidentally, the academy, The Royal Academy of Music fees were then £9 per term. It was on the back of my music exam book. I mean £9 in those days, I suppose you could multiply it by twenty or more today, but it wouldn’t have broken him. But things were never really, financial subjects were never openly discussed.
At the same time, my brother Vincent, was at The Forest School, which is a public school, in Epping Forest, and he didn’t like paying for those fees, and I know he didn’t like paying for mine. But it was never openly discussed what I should do, at fifteen, where I should go, what I should do, and whether I’d have a career or whatever.
So, I answered an advertisement in a local paper for a pianist for some dancing classes at a hall not so far, within walking distance, from where we lived, and I was taken on, with the result that I played for three displays. I was only fifteen when I took that on in 1924, and I played for three annual displays following, until we moved down to Brighton. And in a way I enjoyed this. It was classical dancing, ballet dancing, and I used to have jaunts up to London to play in some big competition for one or two of the children who were outstanding.
And I remember the pay was half-a-crown an hour, two-an d-sixpence an hour, but three shillings an hour for the ballroom dancing. Now this gave me some pocket money because my father - - - I left school, and he never gave me any pocket money. I had no money whatever. And with that money I was able to clothe myself and have some pocket money as well.
And at this time, I used to go, I could afford two and fourpence for the gallery or the gods or whatever at Golders Green Hippodrome, now that was a tuppenny tram ride from Cricklewood, only perhaps about ten minutes or so on the tram up the hill, and really that was where I developed my taste for opera, because not only did we have in those days the British National Opera Company, which was founded by Sir Thomas Beecham, but it was sung in English, just as today, The English National Opera Company sing in English. And my father took me to my first opera, Carmen, and really that developed my taste for opera, and he even bought me the score, which I still have, ragged thought it is, and enjoy playing sometimes. I’ve seen the opera many times since, but I shall never forget the impression that made on me.
And also, a little anecdote, in those days when I went to Golders Green, I remember going with a boy friend, and I can’t remember the opera that was scheduled to play, I can’t remember, but at the last minute somebody announced, they came before the curtain, and announced that because of illness, Faust was going to be put on as an alternative. Now Faust, as you may well know, has the story of Margarita and her illegitimate baby. I knew all about it, and I shall never forget the embarrassment - - - - of all operas to put on, with a boy friend, that was the limit. That’ll just show you seventy years ago, how different things were. And anyway I think I enjoyed it. It’s a lovely opera, and the music’s lovely and also at this time I was going also to the Golders Green Hippodrome, which put on prior to London shows, and I used to see all the most famous actors and actresses there: Ivor Novello, Sybil Thorndyke, all the best plays, classics as well as popular plays, and it really did give me a taste for the theatre.
And at that time, I remember Jim Rice who I’ve talked about before, when he used to take us out to lunch at the Regent Palace in London. And he used to take us to The Coliseum, which then put on a variety show. I remember seeing Harry Lauder. And we sometimes saw the farces at The Aldwych, which were quite famous then, and such good fun. So I really did have a taste of the theatre. And also I can remember once, Beecham, when the audience weren’t quite quiet through the overture, he turned round and told them to shut up! I remember that so well.
And of course at this time too, my father knew Merlin Morgan who was the musical director at Daley’s Theatre, and he used to let us have his box from time to time. And also I remember going to The Gaiety Theatre quite a bit. Something to do with him I think. So that was really just what I enjoyed, but at this time unfortunately, to put it into Raymond’s description of my mother, he said she had a fit of restlessness, for that’s what she had and decided she wanted to live at Brighton, so from this interesting life I was leading, I was playing, going up to London, going to the theatre, and she craved for the sea. Well, we moved down to Brighton and I was cut off entirely from all cultural activities such as I have described.
So there we were, in 1927, moving to Brighton. I was eighteen, Raymond was five, and I had to then see in what way I could make some pocket money. We went to live in Highcroft Villas, a picture of which is in one of the albums, and the only way I could think of to make a little bit of money, we had a garden, and so I kept six or eight chicken, and used to take the eggs round and make a little bit of pocket money that way.
Well I was cut off from lessons, piano lessons, but fortunately mother did realise that it wasn’t good for me, and she did persuade my father to pay for some private lessons, so I found a good teacher in Brighton, and she got me through the final grade in 1928, and I took the Gold Medal of the Incorporated London Academy of Music, which is extinct now, and I was able then, to take a few pupils.
By this time we’d moved again, from Highcroft Villas, and we were now living in Lawn Villas, which was very near Preston Park station, because my father had this hour’s journey on Southern Railway from Brighton to Victoria, and then across from Baker Street to Willesden Green to his office, so it wasn’t easy for him.
And then in 1929, I began to have a few pupils, and I remember three young African girls, and I used to ride out to Hove, quite a way, on my bicycle to teach them on a Saturday morning. And to my embarrassment, the three of them looked exactly the same. You see in those days it was very unusual to come across any really black Africans, African people, not as it is today. I can distinguish them easily now, but I could never get their names right. And I remember that was thirty shillings a term, they used to pay me. I think that was thirty shillings each. Any way, I began to make a little money, and in 1930 I went in and passed the LRAM, and I took that up at the Academy, so my very first exam and my very last one were both at the Royal Academy in Marylebone Road.
Now, I had begun to get into musical company and make friends among music lovers, and no doubt you’ve heard of the dome at Brighton, which is considered one of the finest concert halls on the south coast. Well, it’s part of the Royal Pavilion (campus or whatever you like to call it), but in my days it was hard seats, because it was the stabling for George IV’s horses. He lived in the Pavilion, but the dome was where the horses were kept. And it had been made into a concert hall, but it was very basic, and of course I could never afford more than the cheap seats, so I sat round the outer circle on hard seats, just as I did at Golders Green Hippodrome.
But, I did see some famous artists there. I saw Rachmaninov, not long before he died, and he played the famous C-sharp minor prelude (I think it’s C-sharp minor), and the audience clamoured for the famous prelude of his, which unfortunately he sold outright when he was hard up, so he never got all the royalties he might have done, because it was one of his most popular works.
Well, also at The Dome I heard John McCormack, that lovely Irish singer, I heard Kreisler, again not long before he died. A wonderful experience. And Tetrazzini, the famous soprano, and also at the Dome.
Incidentally, I did go to the refurbished dome. I took the opportunity when I was staying with Auntie (Roz) at Saltdean, in 1971, and we heard Arthur Rubinstein give a recital there. I hardly recognised it: a wonderful concert hall. And again, going back to the early days when I went there, there were wonderful orchestral concerts too. And I can remember hearing the Schumann piano concerto for the first time there. And Ravel’s Bolero, which had a lasting effect on me. I shall never forget the effect that had because I’d never heard it before. And that fifteen minutes of crescendo and of that rhythm, it had a most devastating effect on me. But that’s where I heard many of the great works for the first time.
And another venue, particularly for recitals was the Hove Town Hall. I don’t know whether it still functions as a recital hall, but I remember hearing Myra Hess, and Schnabel, Moiseiwitsch, and Albert Salmons, our great violinist there, and I managed to do these things because the seats were cheap. I came across an old book the other day, where I had jotted down my expenses. The seats were something like two shillings or two and fourpence.
And also at this same period, I don’t know how many residents of Brighton would remember, they turned the old aquarium into a concert hall. Now I don’ t know how they did it, but I remember going there to hear Vaughan Williams conduct, I think it was his Sea Symphony. That was quite a highlight. But I think it wasn’t quite the right shape for concerts. It was too long and too narrow, so it just fizzled out, and became only an aquarium.
And the other venue I so enjoyed was the Old Theatre Royal. Now I saw Pavlova dance there. I remember going with mother, and I can only describe her as a little bit of thistledown. She seemed not to touch the floor. Simply out of this world.
And I also saw there at the Theatre Royal, practically all the Gilbert and Sullivan operas, which I so enjoyed and got the scores of. And at this time, I met a singer. She had really a fine voice. Her name was Betty Coalville, and I taught her little girl, and she found I was a good pianist, for singers always want good accompanists. And it was experience for me, so we started, I playing for her, and she got quite a number of concert engagements, which was good experience for me. I mean we went to the Folkestone Winter Gardens, and I played for her, and Weston-Super-Mare I remember going, we used to drive down. But one little incident I remember. I went up with her to London to one of her lessons, which again was good experience because her teacher was a very good teacher, and she took me to lunch at the Regent Palace before, and not thinking or realising that I wasn’t used to alcohol, she offered me a cocktail, and I shall never forget, I think that put me off alcohol for the rest of my life. Of course mother says she should never have done such a thing. It was on an empty stomach, because we had driven up from Brighton. And do you know, when we got up from the lounge to go to the dining hall, I could hardly walk. How I got through to the dining hall, I shall never know. It had such an effect on me. That was just a little incident, but we got on very well together. Her professional name was Louise Londer, and you’ll see how we gave a recital at the Royal Pavilion, and the programme and the press cuttings are in my press book, which sounds rather important, but it’s just a few cuttings there. I didn’t play for her. I just played solos. She had a very good professional accompanist.
Now the next year, (or rather) between then and the next year, I met also another very good singer, Mary Robinson, who was quite experienced, in operatic singing, and I played for her. And in return, she gave me voice production lessons, which did quite a bit for me. I learned quite a bit. I think I could have developed a voice in time. But anyhow, it was all good experience, and we, as you will see in the press book, we gave a recital in the Royal Pavilion. But then, I played for her and played solos. And really it was too much. I shouldn’t have done it. It took quite a while to get over the tiredness of that. But anyway, I did it and it was good practice.
And there was a good society, the Sussex Women Musicians Club, and they used to meet in the Royal Pavilion, in the drawing room. Of course I might say here that the Pavilion had not been refurbished as it has been since then. It was all rather dusky and rather dull. I mean the Royal Pavilion sounds grand, and for anyone who’s been there recently, but it was all very dull, and no shining gold and bright wall draperies. But anyway, it was well known, and the acoustics were good.
So I had, in 1934, I had got going. I had a few pupils. I did a little concert, which you will also find a notice of, at Murdoch’s piano emporium. So, I really had got going. But, that was in 1933/4, and in 1935 my mother decided that my father should no longer have to do such a journey to London from Brighton. He was getting older, I don’t think he could have been sixty then, but anyway, she felt in the mood for another move, so in 1935, having just got established in Brighton, we moved to Richmond, to a house in a cul-de-sac which she hated. She didn’t stay there long. She moved to Kingston as soon as I was married.
So, to Richmond we went. I had no music, no income, and no money. And the only thing I could think of to do was to take a secretarial course and to combine my music with it. And to do that, I had to borrow the fee, from my Uncle Bert, who was with my father, in the business. My father wasn’t forthcoming. So that was what I had to do in 1935. I had even considered selling my lovely Bechstein grand piano, to pay for the course.
The story of this I have told before, but it was through the generosity of our family friend Jim Rice, who used to take us out to lunch and the theatre, when we lived near London. And he forwarded to me the money to pay for it, and I said I would pay him back by instalments. But I had only paid one instalment when we heard the sad news of his suicide. And it was a great shock to us all. And of course my mother wondered, and I wondered, whether there would be any record of my indebtedness for this piano which actually at that time was a hundred pounds I owed him. I paid the thirty pounds back. And nothing more was ever heard or said, so I acquired that piano for thirty pounds, which was a stroke of good fortune, and I shall always be grateful to him for his generosity.
Taking on such an intensive secretarial course left me very little time, if any, to play the piano, which was a grief to me, and I had to work so hard to get the necessary qualification, and I don’t know that I did really, and the triangle, which had a very good name. And it was through them that I got an introduction to the BBC, and I’ll say more about that on my next tape. Anyhow, Edward has reminded me, this is a PS, that I didn’t say whether or how I sobered-up after the little incident of the cocktail. Well, I did get to the dining table, without falling over or pushing anybody down, and as soon as I started eating I was all right, and I never had any further trouble that day. But it’s always been a warning to me, not to take alcohol on an empty stomach.
Now the other PS is about the decimal currency. When I’ve spoken about “half a crown”, that means in today’s new pence, twelve-and-a- half new pence because two shillings and sixpence was half-a-crown.
So, when I had a seat at the opera, that’s what it was, and the same for most of the concerts and recitals I went to. And that meant an hour’s playing for the dancing. That’s how I used to look at it, and that’s how money was in those days.
This concludes the portion of my life from 1914 to 1935. The next portion I’ll continue on the other side of this tape.
End of side 1 of tape 1
Today is October 2nd in the year 2000, and I’m now going to pick-up on this side where I left off in 1935.
Now, we had made the fateful move to Richmond, and I began at the Triangle Secretarial College in South Moulton Street in the autumn of that year, for a six-month intensive course. And it was intensive. There was no time or energy for music, and shorthand and typing took precedence, and I found it really a rather boring substitute.
So, this continued, I think I must have begun before the autumn because by February 1936 I wrote to the BBC, where The Triangle had evidently seen that they were advertising for staff in the opening television branch at Alexandra Palace. And I wrote to them, and got an interview, and they took me on.. That was in February 1936.
Well I think like most beginners in office work, I was put into the General Office, which was called Public Relations, and that was really answering letters from the public, which could be more interesting at some times than others. But I’ve still got the letter of application in my box.
Anyhow, I was in the general office, I can’t remember for how long, I suppose a few weeks, and then because of my musical knowledge, they tried me out in the musical department.
Now this was an office where there were two musicians. One was Clarence Raybold who was quite a well-known conductor then, and Maurice Johnson. It was usually an office for two and their secretaries.
Well I’m sure I was anything but efficient to start with, and I can’t remember how long I was in that office, but after a while I found myself back in the general office again, and then I was sent to some other literary man, I can’t remember his name now, but again I’m sure I wasn’t efficient, and I found it all rather difficult, and a bit of a strain.
But I say some interesting people while I was there. Of course Adrian Boult, Dr Adrian Boult as he was then, and I remember seeing Constance Lambert in the office, John Ireland, and Sir John Reith, from time to time.
And of course some of the bonuses (I don’t know what else to call them) were that we could have tickets for almost anything going on in London, concerts, operas, all sorts of things, were just handed on to us if we liked to make use of them. The fact was that I was so tired at the end of a day, I rarely had any energy for that. But, I did go, (it was while Elizabeth Milne-Redhead and her mother were with us), and I remember she came with me to Covent Garden to see Charpontier’s Louise, which is very rarely done, because it’s such a difficult soprano part. How much Elizabeth appreciated it, I don’t know. But I remember the price of the ticket; it was £1.10s.0d, which is £1.50 today. I don’t know what they are today. It would be something like £200.00 because we had lovely seats in the stalls.
And anyhow, another show I do remember, a show or experience, at that time was Lady Macbeth of Maczencs, Shostakovich’s very controversial opera. I think it was the first time it was being played in London. It was a concert version at the Queen’s Hall, which of course was only opposite to the BBC. And of course this was more my environment in a way, but I had the strain of doing work for which I don’t think I was cut out. And after all, I was 27 before I started the course, and most girls do a course like that straight from school.
So that went on. I don’t know whether I’ve got the dates right, but about Easter of that year, and I’ve told about this on my former tape about the family, about how I met F.G. Archer, through Elizabeth, and I can’t really go into details here because I’ve told most of it elsewhere, and with one thing and the other, the worry of my course, and wondering whether I would ever make any success of it, I was persuaded to get married. And I wasn’t given very long to make up my mind, which was not altogether sensible. But however I did make up my mind, and I gave in my notice.
Now there were two women administrators, one was particularly nice, a Miss Redfern, and so she interviewed me. And in the course of the conversation she said: You’re not leaving here because you think you’re not doing very well and you’re going to get married instead, are you?
And do you know, I was really not true to myself, when I answered that question. However, the result was that I did leave in August (1936), and we were married in October.
Now, I came from London to Oxford. I didn’t know anything of Oxford. And North Oxford was where we lived then, in the Banbury Road, in one of Grandpa’s houses. And anyone who knows Oxford, or knew Oxford at that time, will know that it is a very different place socially from today. It was very snobbish. All the academics lived in North Oxford, because that’s where the houses were built for the dons when they were allowed to get married in 1877, and big houses were built for them.
And the academic families all felt far superior to the trades-people, and after all, Archer Cowley was trade. So I felt very much, coming from Brighton, which was cosmopolitan, and nothing of this kind was around, and I felt it very much. In the buses, you felt so inferior to all these people speaking in an Oxford accent, on buses, (of course there weren’t the cars then), and I was very aware of it, and didn’t feel very happy. In fact I suffered very much from depression because I had no one on my wavelength, in fact I went home after six months, intending to stay, but, obviously, I didn’t.
Anyhow, that gives just a little idea of what the transition from Brighton and London to Oxford, with nobody I knew, meant to me.
Well now there was one family, particularly the mother of this family, who really saved the situation for me. I shall always be grateful to her. They were a family by the name of Harvey, who lived in St Margaret's Road. He was a university man, and she was musical. Not a very good violinist, but all the same she loved music. And she used to give music parties, and got me to play piano solos, and I met some interesting people, one of them the very well known Dr Ernest Walker, who was a musical character in Oxford at that time. And I even went, or we went, to a party at Exeter College, (that’s where the husband was), and the daughter Daphne got married at Exeter College. Now, to go to a college wedding was quite something for me. Little did I know, all those years ago, one of my sons would be married in a college chapel. But anyway, that really did help me. She knew musical people, not first rate musicians, but she was rather fond of chamber music, and knew cellists, (I can’t remember the cellist’s name), oh yes, that was it, Fiedler. He was quite a well-known name in Oxford. And of all works to attempt, they attempted, and got me in on it as the pianist, Schumann’s most beautiful piano quintet.
Well, when I hear this (now), it’s supposed to be one of Schumann’s most famous chamber works. Very difficult, but a wonderful work. And we used to have a go at this, but the intonation didn’t please me at all. But I was glad to do it because at least I was around, mixing with, people who loved music.
Well, that was in 1937. The year after we were married. Then, as I think I have told elsewhere, we moved. I think I was so aware of this snobbery, and I wasn’t at all happy there, in North Oxford, although the Archers lived in a big house, which still stands there just the same, at 130 Banbury Road. They lived in the big house, but they didn’t move in academic circles. So living in a big house didn’t make all that difference. So I really wanted to get into a more modern house, and get into another area, which we did in 1937, to 386 London Road, Headington. And that made a difference to me. It was in the open, almost on the edge of the country, and our neighbours were pleasant. No academics, that way. And of course in 1938 Michael was born, so my time was occupied with him. But in 1940, when of course the war was at its height, I did meet two very good violinists. One was by the name of Albert Casaubon, and on page 11 of my scrapbook you’ll see the invitation which was issued. In 1940, he gave a recital with me at one of the big houses in Banbury Road, in aid of the YMCA. It’s in a big house which turned into a kind of home, a nursing home, in fact Mary Archer was there at the end of her life.
So that was a great treat for me, and I can remember Michael then was only about two, and it must have been the first time he saw or heard anyone playing the violin. And I remember him being around in the room, but he was never any trouble. He must have liked it.
Well then at about this same time, I met another very good violinist, Ruth Kelgren. Now she was one of our doctors’ locum. And when she came to see Michael, I suppose it must have been, or perhaps Philip, of course she noticed the big grand, and we got onto the subject of music, and then she went on to tell me that she had inherited a legacy which she had spent on lessons from Max Rostal. Well he was a very notable violinist then. He used to play with the Amadeus Quartet. And she had a lovely Italian violin. Well we got together, and we had some wonderful sessions. She came often. Once a week. We played Brahms, Beethoven, Mozart sonatas, and really it was very enjoyable. That went on for several years. She had a daughter Judith who used to come sometimes. She boarded at Beadales. Incidentally she was asked to leave because she had a passion for sweets, and was known to have taken some sweets. A dreadful thing. And then she went to Oxford High School.
Now the next thing about this time, 1943, I don’t know how it was, but I got to know Rolf, the founder of The Oxford String Players. Now if you like to look in my press scrapbook, you’ll find a little bit about their history. And in 1943, people couldn’t move around much, and had to take their holidays at home. And this meant that music featured at some of these places. There were concerts and so on to attract people, and The Oxford String Players were a group which contained quite a few professional players. The leader, I think, played in the New Theatre orchestra.
And I don’t know how it was that I got to know him, whether he went into the office, Archer Cowley’s office at any time, I don’t know what it was, but I had some very interesting times with them. And again you’ll see in my little scrapbook, pages 12 to 15, quite a bit about them. We went all over the place: Cheltenham Town Hall, Newbury Town Hall, Wellingborough, and some local concerts as well. I think they got the petrol because it was to do with Holidays at Home. It was not war work exactly, but he would have got a special … I think we all went in one little kind of bus or something like that, I seem to remember. But anyhow, I played some solos some times, but nearly always, which was a new experience for me, a little concerto of Handel, arranged by Constance Lambert, who you will remember I’d seen up at the BBC, not many years before, and I enjoyed that very much.
Now that was all while we were at 386 London Road, and, in about, I don’t know what year it was, a little bit later than that, I thought I could do with a few more lessons. One of the Chopin Studies didn’t please me, the one that is called the butterfly study, and I couldn’t get through it without stiff forearms: the forearm in the right hand. It’s constant octaves. And Madame Gombridge lived in Wellington Square, and she was the mother of the famous artist Gombridge who has written so much about art, one of the leading art figures. In fact he’s exactly my age, and still going strong (I don’t know about strong), but he’s still alive because I have an Austrian friend who was very close to his sister. Anyhow, I had a few lessons from her, and I achieved my object, I did manage to play that study without being tired, and I can still play it.
In fact here I might say that something I’m very very thankful for is that I can play most of the works or pieces that I played all those years ago, and if I practised as much as I did then I could still play them almost as well today. And that’s something I’m very thankful for because playing the piano still means a lot to me and gives me much pleasure.
And of course, following this, Michael took an interest in the violin, and when he went to Christchurch (we were now living at Sandfield Road), they lent him a violin, and he began having lessons, and I was only too happy to help him where I could. And it was the beginning of a lifelong interest. He didn’t like it at certain times in his adolescence, and I remember he said the best birthday present I could give him was to let him give up the violin. However, I didn’t, and we enjoyed playing together, and now at this time of his life he’s playing in a very good orchestra at Wimbledon.
Well then again, as you heard on my previous tapes, I developed very early on a taste for opera, and the New Theatre (as the Apollo was called) had quite a lot of opera through the year. And I remember so well in 1943/44 Benjamin Britten had started his Aldeburgh festival, and they used to come direct from Aldeburgh to the New Theatre. And I saw Benjamin Britten conduct some of them, and some of the notable singers: Kathleen Ferrier, Joan Cross, amongst them. I saw The Rape of Lucrecia. That was quite an experience. And then I remember also seeing at the New Theatre: The Carmelites, Poulenc’s opera, without a …. I don’t think there’s a single man in it. And it was the first performance in England, and one of Joan Sutherland’s early parts.
And then Sadlers Wells used to come for a period, and I remember seeing Irmeline by Delius, conducted by Sir Thomas Beecham, and that was the first performance in England.
Now unfortunately, during the war, at 386 London Road, we were all advised to clear our roofs and to get rid of any rubbish, or unnecessary items. And I don’t know how I can have come to do it, but I burned all my programmes that I had in a box there: programmes of Golders Green Hippodrome, and concerts. It would have been wonderful to have looked through them now. But there it was. We were so fortunate to have been out of the bombing. The nearest we came to a German plane was when one flew over our house and landed on Shotover.
I feel that I haven’t said much about my experiences with the BBC. And although of course the advertisement mentioned TV and Alexandra House, I didn’t get further of course than Broadcasting House. That’s where I went up each day. As I said I was in the general office, to sort of see what sort of work I could do, and then went once or twice to the music department. And I mentioned Maurice Johnston, who was one of the two in this office. He was a conductor and composed a bit, and had been an assistant to Sir Thomas Beecham, and had recently had a breakdown as a result. He was a bit of a queer character. His voice was rather shaky, and I didn’t care for him, and he seemed to be very matey with his secretary, and they had weekends together and all that sort of thing. And you have to bear in mind that I was very naïve. I had lived a very sheltered life, and I didn’t altogether admire some of the relationships at Broadcasting House, generally. It was something that I hadn’t come across really before. Clarence Raybold was more of a gentleman, and actually he knew I played because I was told to keep quiet about my actual playing ability. I shall never understand why that was. But he was always very nice.
One little thing we always had was called The Bible. And it was our job as secretaries, to note every item that was played by the orchestra, so that they knew when an item had been played. And I remember once a week a chap used to open the door and ask: “Any mice?” In other words had anyone seen any mice? I suppose it could have become serious if mice were not kept down. I suppose they went for the crumbs after tea. I don’t know.
And I didn’t realise until Miss Redfern asked me, why or was I leaving because I didn’t think I was getting on too well, and really that was true. I felt I wasn’t getting on too well in this secretarial line. And she said that nobody is any good to us until they’ve been here at least six months. And of course I had been there just six months. And I’m afraid I told her .. well it wasn’t a little white lie, it was perhaps a big white lie, when I said I wasn’t leaving because I thought that (I was not doing very well). However, I don’t think I can say…..
Sir John Reith was talked and thought of with respect in my days, as was Dr Adrian Boult, very much the conductor. And I think that’s about all I can say about the BBC. And this concludes the recollections of the period 1935 to 1945.
Today is Monday 16th October in the year 2000. Now I’m going to speak about the period 1945 to 1960, and really I won’t have a lot to say about this period.
The war finished and The Oxford String Players disbanded, and I was busy coping with two boys. And as I’ve said before, the programmes from this time I haven’t got because not only were the programmes burned because of the request (because they didn’t want anything inflammable in roofs) but I unfortunately continued to destroy my programmes, which I am sorry about.
And my main musical activity was my own practice. I kept my playing going. And I was playing with Ruth Kelgren, the violinist, which gave me a lot of pleasure.
And then, of course, in 1946, we moved from 386 London Road, to 17 Sandfield Road, the main reason being that we were half the distance then from Oxford, which would make it easier for finding schools, or being near to schools. And I think that living in Sandfield Road made quite a difference. I got to know people, perhaps on my wavelength. And I still had one pupil, who came to me in London Road. She was the daughter of the people who ran the chemist shop on The Roundway (up there), and she was very musical and kept up with me for years, and came and saw me afterwards. She became headmistress of some school in Worcester (Worcester High School, I think it was). Anyway, she was my one and only pupil. And I think at this stage it is appropriate to say that at that time, even after the war, it wasn’t popular for wives to earn money, once they were married. I think I’m right that even in those days married women wouldn’t have been allowed at the BBC, or in banks, or even teaching. So, my husband wasn’t unusual perhaps in his attitude to the thought that I would earn money. I could do all the playing that was from an amateur’s standard; well I hope it was more than that. I didn’t earn money playing the piano, but teaching I did. And of course Edward was born in 1949, and I was really rather desperate for money of my own. And if you look through any old cashbooks in my box, you’ll see why because I had very little money to manage on, and I did enjoy the odd theatre and concert. And so, rather in desperation, I wrote to Miss Moller, head of Headington School, to ask if there was any vacancy in teaching the piano at the school. And she replied almost by return of post and said yes she could do with someone to take some of the boarders, which was after school time mainly.
Anyhow, it pleased me considerably and I took some of them on. And when either Michael or Philip weren’t at home, it was when Grandpa Archer had moved next door, and Robert (as he was then) used to go in and watch television – I’ve always felt a little bit guilty that I wasn’t there always when he came in. However it turned out to be a very satisfactory move for me to teach at the school. And I always remember this feeling when I went through those swing doors at the school, I felt I was somebody. I had never felt like that before. But somehow the respect I was shown was something I always remembered. And it led to some very enjoyable musical activities. For instance, they had a very good head of music, Margaret Bailey, and she produced Benjamin Britten’s opera “Let’s Make an Opera”, not the whole one, but The Little Sweep, and I played one of the two pianos, and there were two violins, cello and viola, and percussion. That’s what Benjamin Britten scored it for. And it was very enjoyable in that lovely big hall of theirs. And it led to all sorts of playing for singing and improvising for dancing, and it was really a very happy association for me.
And at the same time, Joan McKerras, sister of (now) Sir Charles McKerras, was one of the two violins playing. And later on, I played for the rehearsals of The Gondoliers, and Julia Somerville was, I forget which part she took, she’s the ITV newscaster. Anyhow it led to a very happy association for many years, I can’t just remember how many, and then in the mid-fifties I also introduced music to Joska’s School. I don’t know whether that is remembered today. But it was on the site of what is now St Luke’s Nursing Home, in Latimer Road, and it was a lovely building, with a lovely little theatre. I went to see several very enjoyable productions there. It was all pulled down for a nursing home. One of the pupils was Peter Gallop, and Julian (as he was then) Rosenthal, and JonathanWhaley – those are perhaps three names you will remember.
And it was quite fun. They’d had no music, and I used to play to them, and they used to sing, and it was quite fun and not far to go.
And then again of course, around this time, Michael was getting on with the violin, and I was enjoying playing with him and for him, and although he wasn’t very enthusiastic around the adolescent age, in fact he said the best birthday present I could give him was to let him give it up. And he had a very long-suffering teacher, Mrs Sargent of Iffley Road, I think it was then, and I said just keep him ticking over because I think one day he will pick it up and be glad he didn’t drop it, because I knew he had a gift for it. And then I don’t know how it was we heard or found Dorothy Churton, who was a very good teacher. She lived at Haddenham and used to come in and give Michael a lesson.
And one little incident I remember. He played something then with a cadenza, and when we used to practice in the evening, I would leave the piano for a moment or two to put the potatoes on…. In other words, there was a certain point in this cadenza when I went and put on the spuds.
Anyhow, it was a very interesting period for me, and I hoped very much that he would keep it going, which he did, and he played at the Magdalen concert, and had Martin Jones to play for him, just before Michael went to Teddy Hall. And of course Martin Jones is an international pianist today, a fine player.
And again, I think that Michael played at the Teddy Hall concert, and, I think it must have been around this time, that I went to a sale at Malham’s (pba:Malham Payne & Dorne?), and I think it must have been some goods that had been in the Archer Cowley store, I can’t remember exactly, I think that was it, and when I told Dorothy Churton (it was a violin and two bows), one of the bows was a Tubb (spelling?), she said Oh go down and get it. It’s one of the best makes. One was a Tubb, and one was a Hill. She wasn’t sure about the violin. So I let one of her pupils have it. But anyway it turned out to be a very good buy, as Michael will verify. At the moment I think he’s got Uncle Bert’s violin, which I think is quite a good one.
I paid £25 for this violin and two bows. Well Michael knows what the violin was worth…. I think it has run into…..yes, a lot of money, the bows, yes the bows. I don’t know how good the violin was. No, the bows, one especially, the Hill bow I think. They both have silver on them. And at this time he’d taken a renewed interest in playing (I think it was Dorothy Churton who did this), and he was playing of course in the University Orchestra. He played in Ernani. and L’Enfant et les Sortileges, and Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex, and Gordon Cross was also at Teddy Hall at the same time, and I have an idea that Gordon Cross who made a name as a composer since, played for Michael.
Incidentally, it was the Oxford University Orchestra that Michael played in, I believe amongst the first violins.
Now going back to Headington School, I was there, associated with the school, teaching or playing, from about the mid-fifties to about the mid-seventies I think. I know it was around twenty years, and it certainly did give me a little bit of financial independence, because, at that time, although we hadn’t a mortgage, (I’ve explained earlier how we came by our house, to own it), we really, although FG was the managing director of Archer Cowley, we never had a surplus of money, and I remember one summer he was very glad of a cheque from me at the end of the financial year, for a deposit on a holiday. And although I went to see Oswald who was head of the firm of accountants (Thornton Baker/Grant Thornton) which dealt with Archer Cowley, or did their accounts, I tried to get our car put on the expense side, so that that would have been a help, but nothing was forthcoming from Oswald, and I always felt that he didn’t do what he might have done for us as regards expenses when we read today what ‘s done among these big firms. Anyhow, that’s by-the-way.
And going back to Headington School and my teaching, a number of pupils came, as a result, I think, of teaching at Headington School, so that I had quite a number of private pupils as well as the school pupils.
And I believe at this time, I was trying to help Phil with the piano, and I think he did learn quite a bit, and I’m sure it stood him in good stead for it’s good to hear him play today. And I remember so well, I brought all three of you boys up on the Fraser Simpson songs: “When we were very young”, and “Now we are Six”, and I remember each one of you, would sit as long as I liked to sit and play, and sing them to you. You used to sit on my lap, and I used to rather feel that I was instilling good music into you boys, and I think probably I did, because they are delightful songs, and I’m surprised more of them aren’t sung today. I think “Christopher Robin saying his prayers” and “Changing guard at Buckingham Palace” are the two best known ones. And “Half-way up the stairs is a stair where I sit”. (pba: I remember and can hum/whistle: The King of Peru/Tinker Tailor/ Where the Wind Comes From/ In the Corner of my bedroom/and others). And talking of this, I bought one of the books. They’re out of print now. I know a mother who has tried to get one of them but they’re out of print. And “Now we are six”, I’ve got the copy that my aunt sent me from South Africa, after my cousin was killed (pba: that must be Aunty Carrie and her daughter Lorna), on the level crossing accident. And they’re delightful pieces (pba: which I heartily endorse, as I can still remember them very easily and find them exactly that: totally delightful both melodically and in terms of the lyrics).
But I can’t remember much more …. I think you boys all used to sing a little bit, and I encouraged it of course, and it was a great joy to me to hear Michael playing the violin, and so, ….. this tape is ending.
I’m afraid I’ve not done very well this time. Michael finished at University in 1960, and that’s where I’ll begin the next tape, when I hope I’ll do better.
(Transcription reached this stage Monday 5th January 2004, three years and one month since the date on this tape of Edward’s note sending it to me).
Tape No. 2
Today is October 27th, in the year 2000, and I’m now going to begin the period from 1960 to 1968. I had intended doing the whole decade, but it’s such an eventful one that I think I shan’t get beyond 1968, which will take us about half an hour, which we both find quite sufficient.
Well, to introduce this period, Michael had just finished at University, Philip was a prefect at Magdalen College School, and Edward had just gone to Magdalen College School. And of course we were living at 17 Sandfield Road, and incidentally I doubt whether we would be living in such a road, had we a mortgage at the time, but which in a previous session I explained how we came to be living in our own house. And it was a very beneficial move, financially, and particularly for me, because I doubt whether I should have acquired the musical connections which I did, in other than Sandfield Road. It was a very good road, because there were a number of academics living around, and I’m sure it was through that that I got so many pupils, for I didn’t make any effort to get them, they just somehow turned up. And of course I was teaching at Headington School which was convenient, and one told the other, and I had about fourteen pupils at that time around the 1960s.
And I went in 1960 to Oberammergau, to the Passion Play. FG should have gone, but he’d done something very serious to his back, digging-in manure on the allotment, and I think this was one reason perhaps why Sandfield Road didn’t mean as much to him as to me, because he found the garden too small. So, he took on an allotment. First of all, there was one just off the (Northern) by-pass, near The Fox public house. And then, nearly opposite to us, where Woodlands Road is now, were just allotments belonging to Headington School. But of course they sold it and built on it, and then he found an allotment off Pullen’s Lane, and it was there that he was digging-in manure, and made his back somehow very painful. I think it was a slipped disc, so he couldn’t go on the trip to Bavaria, so Aunty Roz came too. And it was organised by Elizabeth Archer (or Gladys as she was then), through the church she went to, and it was very enjoyable, very hard going because we did hundreds of miles in the coach by day.
But in a way it was nice for me because I amused the tourists of our group by playing for them in the evening, and it kept up my playing and was quite good practice. So that was an enjoyable trip.
That was 1960. then around 1961 one of Archer Cowley’s customers by the name of Freshville, had been unheard of for many years. I forget how many years it is before the people who are storing the goods may offer the goods for sale to defray their rental. But that’s what happened. And so, he was obviously a great music lover, and he had a piano and an adjustable music stool, which I bought at an auction sale where his goods went. But amongst his goods was a box, oh more than one box, I forget how many boxes of music.
Now Archer Cowley tried to sell it. But because I was able to go through it and see what the boxes contained, I made out a list to see whether any company or shop dealing in music would be interested. And it turned out to be such a boon to me. They couldn’t sell it, and I offered Archer Cowley five pounds for the lot, which they accepted, glad to get the space.
And in this box there was the most wonderful music. The cost would have been well into three figures, even in those days: all the Chopin works, Scriabin, Schubert, Debussy (the Preludes), modern Russian music, and songs – sheet music, and a large amount of popular music of the 1920s and 1930s, which unfortunately I gave away a lot of, and they sold it at the Magdalen College School fairs, thinking that it wouldn’t interest me. But however the rest of it has been just a delight. I would never have had the money, or I wouldn’t have spent it, so lavishly on music, so that I felt that was really one of my many blessings.
So that was that. At this time I had about twelve private pupils, and among them I had some very interesting ones too. I had two girls; there were three sisters, by the name of Young. And their mother was a plain Mrs Young in those days, but Edward Heath raised her to the peerage because she was a very keen Conservative, and so she became Lady Young. And I remember one of my little pupils’ concerts. It was rather interesting, because I had Lady Young, a staunch Conservative, and I had the head of Ruskin College, whose daughter Kirsty I taught for some years, so we had a good mixture there.
And another thing: her mother turned out to be quite a pianist and kept it up, and I used to go to her house, and she occasionally came to Sandfield Road, and we played duets together. I used to go to her on a Sunday evening, and have sort of supper on our knees, and it was very nice, but unfortunately she lost her memory and I lost touch with her. But the Youngs were very kind and friendly to me. Mr Young was head of one of the colleges, and Mrs Baker, the mother I played duets with, she was a widow, but her husband was principal of St John’s. And this is what I say, I think living where we did, I made contact with people I would never have done just socially, because we were beyond the pale, as I pointed out in my early session, when we lived in North Oxford, but somehow music lowers the barriers, and I had some very interesting pupils.
Another one was Martin Cotton, whose father was Elmer Cotton, the sports shop in Turl Street, I think it was. And he’s a presenter now on Radio 3, and I read in the Radio Times the other week, he lives with Penny Gore, who presents the early morning programme on Radio 3.
And then I had Helen Whaley. Of course her father was principal of one of the colleges, I can’t think of it now, but she was with me several years, and she passed grade 8 with distinction, and won an Associated Board scholarship, well, not exactly that, but she was entitled to enter the scholarship, and she did win a bursary to Dartington, where she was very very happy, and from there she got to the Royal College. And for some years she has played around as a solo harpsichordist, because unfortunately she developed Hodgkin’s disease, in her early days at the College, but she seems to have overcome it, with drugs I think, and for years she’s been an Associated Board examiner, and has travelled all over the world, and seems to keep fit on it. Unfortunately, her husband has developed Parkinson’s disease.
Now at the same time, and I think it was through the Whaleys, I had another interesting pupil, Susanna Payne, and she was a niece of Professor Hodgkin’s, who won the Nobel Prize for her work on crystallography, and she passed grades 7 and 8 in one year, well less than one year, and she got entrance to The Royal College of Music. That was quite exceptional.
And then, I think through her, I had another interesting pupil, from Canada, who came with her husband who was a Rhodes Scholar, and he was a crystallographer. I think all three were tied up somehow.
Well this brings me to about 1965, when Gran came to live with us. She couldn’t cope on her own any longer in Rottingdean, in the flat, and she came and spent her money on a little Fiat car for me. She said if I would drive her around, she would gladly buy a little car, which she did. And it led to some very pleasant trips for me. And one in particular. I went to Glyndebourne, with Aunty (Roz). We were staying at Saltdean. That was through Mary Carter. She had then founded a trio. (pba The Carter String Trio). And they became quite notable. Leon Goossens played with them quite a bit. And I did go and hear them here, at the Town Hall. And what was interesting to me, her mother was an old school friend of my mother’s, and they were quite poor, and obviously her talent was noted and my Uncle Will, whose photograph you will have seen in one or two of the albums, financed her: paid for her fees at the Royal College, or the Royal Academy, I can’t be quite sure which, and she made a really successful musical career.
So thanks to her, she got me two tickets for Glyndebourne, and I was able to take Aunty (Roz) there, and we saw Don Giovanni. Now that was quite an experience for me. Unfortunately it was a wet evening and we had to eat our supper in the car. However it was something I will never forget, and one of my favourite operas.
And about this time, Christopher Headington had begun giving lectures on music, connected with The Oxford University Delegacy of Extramural Studies. That’s the title of it. And he gave lectures, and I don’t know quite how I heard of them, but he gave lectures in Rewley House, which is in (I forget which Square), and has become a much bigger organisation, since Kellogs financed them. But it was something quite new to Oxford. And I must have heard of it locally, and I think for at least ten years, I went to some of his courses, such as a one year course on the piano repertory. And a three-year course on the musician’s world, an opera course (Monteverdi to Britten), and then The Concerto, and that’s only just a few of them.
And you can imagine what this meant to me, because I realised how circumscribed my musical education had been. It’s one thing just to study for the LRAM piano, but this so broadened my mind and my outlook, and I know he did as much for some of the other people I met on the courses, and I met some very interesting people who are still my friends. For example I met Doris Stogdale, and we still regularly play duets together. And I met Jean Bedford who knew Sue (Zimmerman/Archer)’s relations up in Leeds, on one of these courses, and it really did broaden our view on music, and I shall for ever be grateful for that, and so will these other friends of mine.
As regards the family, this was a momentous decade, because Stewart and Graham were both born in 1969, Mark was born five years before that in 1964, my mother, Rosa Penfold died in 1968, and William Archer, grandfather to the boys, died in 1969. And soon after my mother died, Edward went on Voluntary Service Overseas, and I really felt bereft with Mother gone, and he’d gone too. And I immersed myself in musical activities, considerably, and one of the most enjoyable was in 1969 we did a concert in The Holywell Music Room in aid of the Vietnam war, and it was quite successful both musically and financially. And you can read the press reports of that and many of the other little musical activities I was in my scrapbook or little news cutting book. So I needn’t say much about that, but for me it was quite an experience for me to play duets with Christopher Headington, and I haven’t spoken of Peter Reynolds and Christian Hunter, who came into my life very much. They were two singers, a bass baritone and soprano, who for several years took the lead in the Oxford University Opera Club’s productions, such as Ernani, Stravinsky, and no end of interesting operas. And we combined, making a foursome, Christopher and I on piano, and four singers, I’m sorry it was four singers, a vocal quartet and duet. And we did Brahms’Liebeslieder (at The Holywell), and finished up, Christopher and I, playing the Debussy Petite Suite de Concert, and that was quite an experience.
And at this time, I think through Peter Reynolds, who incidentally was married to Archer Cowley’s very first shorthand typist, Mary Alden, as she was, and I think it was through that that I first got to know Peter. But he has a fine voice, an operatic voice, and at this time he knew a cellist by the name of Honor Beattie, and said that she was rather keen to play with a pianist, I had played with her once or twice, and wasn’t all that impressed with her intonation. However, I did agree, rather reluctantly, to play with her at a master class which Rostropovich was going to give within a few weeks, in Oxford, connected with the Bach music festival.
Well, I agreed, and we worked up, as best we could, the only sonata which Chopin wrote for cello and piano. It’s a lovely work, but not easy. And I really didn’t feel very happy about it, however I agreed to play in The Holywell with her.
Well, I somehow thought a master class would be just, the audience I mean, the others taking part in the master class. I didn’t realise that many would be there to listen to it. And to my astonishment when we went in, The Holywell was packed. Just packed with people. And my heart sank, as I wasn’t too happy with my soloist.
However, we both started this cello sonata, and we hadn’t got very far when Rostropovich (incidentally he is a charming man), and he stopped us, and he picked the cello up, and indicated to me to start at the beginning of the sonata, and I played with him for several pages. Well, that’s an experience that I shall not forget.
And then he went on to explain to her how her intonation was not as it should have been, and I didn’t know of course, but she was not putting sufficient weight on the bow. And when he played on her instrument, it sounded like a Stradivarius, by comparison.
Anyhow, he was so nice afterwards, and shook me by the hand, and incidentally he wouldn’t accept any of the fees for this master class. He was going on to play actually at Blenheim Palace. Well, that was quite an experience. And so I can honestly say that I’ve played with Rostropovich (per Edward: “the world famous cellist).
Well then I had become a member of the WI. The year before perhaps it was, in 1968, and it happened to be their jubilee: 50 years since it was founded in Britain, and they decided to put on a big show, and they did, and Malcolm Williamson, the Master of the Queen’s Music was commissioned to write something for this occasion. And he wrote what was described as a pageant, a musical pageant, and it really was a great success. And it was so organised that various choirs would take part, and in various levels of difficulty. Choirs which weren't experienced could just do a two-part part of the singing, or three or four parts. And then it was produced at The Albert Hall. And there were four pianists. Now I did enter into the trials for playing at the final production, but there were of course some very competent pianists among the WI and I had been suffering from ‘flu very badly, in fact I had to cancel one of the auditions, when I should have taken part. However I did enjoy seeing it, and I did my little bit trying to get some of the people in Oxfordshire interested. But I’m afraid Oxfordshire, of all counties, is very unmusical, and I think they’re much more interested in farming. (Edward: I don’t think you mentioned the title of the work. Gwen: it was called: The Brilliant and the Dark, showing what women had gone through in the past thousand years.). And I can perhaps give a few more details later on, but I’ve got all the details in my box. And it was broadcast on Radio 3. But of course, being a contemporary composer, it wasn’t what most of the WI members could enjoy learning, not as Vaughan Williams’ folk songs had been enjoyed at an earlier period. It was a little bit too contemporary. But however it was a success, and Radio 3 broadcast it.
And at this time I tried to bring music to some of the WIs. And I did put my name in their yearly book of speakers and so on, and I got such a lot of requests, and I used to go round to I don’t know how many villages that I visited during the time that I was available. And I quite enjoyed it. It was such a change because they were just not used to a music session.
But of course I was up against the terrible village hall pianos. I remember one that I just couldn’t play at all. It was just not workable. Nobody had troubled to find out whether all the notes worked. And it was about now that I acquired my Telefunken tape recorder. A big heavy thing. I don’t know how many pounds it weighed. I used to have to find out whether the piano was playable, and if not, I recorded a programme. And it sounded just as though there was a lovely piano in the hall. It was an amazing instrument really, which I’ve still got. And it took large tapes (as you probably know).
And then again, at this time they hadn’t a piano at their head quarters-come-hall in Middle Way (pba: Oxford presumably), and at that time in Archer Cowley’s warehouse, there was a piano about to be sold, and they only wanted twenty-five pounds for it, and it was a very good piano, I think it might have been a Challen, with a very pleasing tone, and I bought it, but you know from that day to this I’ve never had any acknowledgement of it. It just went into the hall, and I got our tuner to put it right, and he spoke quite well of it. But we just couldn’t have gone through the various concerts, or played for the WI central office hall without a piano.
And at about this time I was then on the county music committee, and they sponsored me to go on a choir leaders’ course at Denman, and that was the first of several very enjoyable sessions at Denman. The following time I played. I went as a pro, and played for the choir-leaders’ course, and then Christian Hunter and I went to Denman and gave a recital. And somehow Christopher Headington got caught up in the WI, and used to give talks over at Denman. It really was quite a fulfilling period. And I think it was perhaps because I thought I could spread a little music that influenced me in joining.
And before I became President, or was voted President, it was the year my mother died, and I think that was a good thing because I just had to attend every month, and (go to) committee meetings, and so on, and I think that was a good thing.
The other thing which happened too, while Mother was with us, in about 1967, she realised that having only the one grand piano in the one room which we’d knocked into one several years before, in a way made things a little bit difficult for me, because the dining room at the back was used only for meals, and she thought that a piano there would enable me to practice a little bit without being a nuisance to the rest of the family.
And at this time I had a pupil, Penny Willis, whose mother was one of the Gurden girls, the big cake makers. And Penny was a very nice girl, and she used to tell me about this lovely piano that her grandfather owned. Now he lived in one of the little cottages in The Croft, in Old Headington. And then he died, and one evening her mother rang me up for advice as to how to get rid of a piano, or how to sell a piano. Well I leaped in and said, (it was a Bechstein), that it was just what I would love to have, and if she would get it valued, I would buy it. And this is what happened. So, at that time I had a second piano. (Edward: how much did you pay? Gwen: Taphouses valued it, and I paid one hundred and thirty pounds, because I said I would pay anything that she had it valued at, and I paid a hundred and thirty pounds for it). And it’s been a joy to me ever since.
In 1968, that was the year that Mother died, I had booked a WI trip to Norway, and I was able to go, and I think perhaps it helped me to get over her passing, and it was very well organised as all WI affairs are, and knowing I was a pianist, they enjoyed hearing me play in the evening, because we stayed at a very comfortable hotel, and just went on lovely boats on the fjords. And we went to Bergen; in fact I think we flew to Bergen. And I can’t remember the name of the place, but it was where Grieg lived for many years, and we saw his room, and his piano. And it was where he wanted to be buried in the rocks, so we saw his tomb. That was quite an experience.
Now I think that’s the end of my activities during this decade, and I think the fact that I had all this lovely music came my way, and then this lovely upright Bechstein also came my way, I think it was good fortune for me in many ways. And it was an enjoyable few years.
Looking back on the decade with forty years of hindsight, I can see that part of my good fortune was not only Freshville’s music, and the Willis piano, but living in Sandfield Road, and near to Oxford. As I’ve mentioned before, Sandfield Road, where many academics lived, for example the Collieus, the Dysons, Tolkien, Robert Layton the composer, Dr Whaley, and a few doors away Mrs Hodges, who was sister of our ambassador in Paris, and of course Headington School. Teaching at Headington School brought me pupils. They came by recommendation. I never advertised. This contact with intelligent children with academic parents, Dons and several heads of colleges, the Hughes of Ruskin College, Habbakuk, the Childs of St Edmund Hall, and the Staniers, the Youngs, of whom the mother became Baroness Young, and her husband a head of a college…. So the environment meant a lot to me, and I liked 17 Sandfield Road. It was light, and I liked the outlook.
But at this time FG seemed to have an urge to move. He even would have liked to have gone to 36 Pembroke Street, next to Archer Cowley’s warehouse. I’m not sure why. I think it was to cut down on the travelling. And again he had designs on the Tomkins house, on the other side of the road (Sandfield Road), with a lot of land, and having a long drive, and I didn’t like the house, it was dark, and I would have felt isolated. And I was quite worried about these ideas of his. And in desperation I said to him: would it make you happier to move to the Tomkinsons’ house? And he gave it quite a bit of thought, and he had to answer no it wouldn’t. So I said what point is there in moving? And I think this philosophy is a good one. I have asked myself many times over a query: would it make me any happier?
Suffice it to say that we didn’t move, and lived on many years at number seventeen.
Now you will have heard how musically active my life was in this period, but it didn’t alleviate a certain loneliness in my marriage because my husband couldn’t share any of my musical interests, which meant so much to me.
I was quite a regular listener to Woman's Hour at this time. And in the autumn of 1968, having heard on the programme a subject on boredom in marriage, I think they invited letters from listeners, and I wrote to them with the result that they got in touch with me and asked me if I would be prepared to take part in a programme on the subject, with the result that I went up to Broadcasting House where I’d last been in 1936. There I was interviewed, one to one. It’s so long ago I can’t remember the details, but it was recorded, and when it was broadcast, I can’t remember how soon afterwards, I recorded it and I kept the tape for quite a while, and then I wiped it. I suppose I felt I’d been disloyal. I had feelings of guilt. But there it was. And it was somewhat ironic that in 1936 I’d left the BBC to get married, and I went back in 1968 to talk about boredom in marriage.
Now I understand that the BBC were inundated with letters from women in a similar position to mine, or feeling as I was, and I really wish now that I had kept the tape, and I don’t feel guilty about it any longer. It was true, and it was no reflection on anybody. I was bored, but somebody else might not have been bored.
So that I think completes or concludes my reminiscences of the sixties. It was for me a decade of high notes and low notes, and I will begin my reminiscences of the seventies on the other side of this tape.
The 1970s
Today is Monday 13th November in the year 2000, and now I’m going to continue with my musical life story, such as it is or was.
I continued teaching during this period. (They were) private pupils, and I suppose I averaged about ten at any one time. I gave up Headington School because they wanted more time from me, including class singing, and I decided it would all be too much, and I decided to carry on with a few private pupils.
I also continued my journeyings to WI villages, with my recorder, or, if the piano was good enough, I played live. And I also went to a number of Townswomen’s Guild meetings. Now they were in towns such as Banbury, Newbury, Reading, etc, and on the whole, their pianos were better (I suppose because they were in a Town Hall, where more functions took place which needed a good piano). And I suppose I averaged about twenty journeys a year, and I began to realise what a beautiful county Oxfordshire is, and what lovely villages there are.
And this year, 1970, Oxfordshire (WI’s [pba]) fiftieth anniversary festival was held, at Gosford Hill School. Now Miss Pilkington was the Oxfordshire music secretary at that time, and was responsible for the music in schools, and she was very helpful in the WI, that was part of her job, and she got a number of small choirs together, and I played for them, and it was quite fun. And (there was) a lot of art: pictures and embroidery and so on. It was really quite a successful festival.
And also at this time, I acted as professional accompanist at Denman, for the choirleaders’ course. I had been previously to learn about the choir leading, and the singing in the choir.
And at the same time I took part in a number (several) recitals, with Peter Reynolds and Christian Hunter (for charity), and Ron Hewitt. Now Ron Hewitt used to take the comic lead in the Oxford Operatic Society Gilbert and Sullivan productions, and he was great in The Sorcerer, I remember. I’ve always enjoyed playing with him, and I remember we did one at The Randolph hotel.
And Christopher Headington’s classes carried on during this period, and his Monday evening weekly ones, and also fewer, but quite a number of Saturday “Music Days”. And I remember quite well (that) he usually had a colleague with him, and one day we were very fortunate in having Lennox Berkeley, who Christopher studied with for some years.
And another well known name was John Mc Cabe. I see he’s giving one next year.
And also Christopher gave a recital for The Holywell Music Room, of Debussy studies. Now these I found, almost as good as new, a bound volume, in Freshville’s box of music which I have spoken of previously. And Christopher had never seen them, and they’re much more difficult even than Chopin. And he decided to give a recital of them, which he did in The Holywell Music Room, and it was said by the local critic that it was probably the first time in Oxford that they’d been played.
And I turned over for him. He evidently didn’t manage to memorise them all, which is understandable.
And about this time, The Oxford Music Festival was founded. Now it was a c competitive festival, and was founded by a very good pianist, a Royal Academician, Marion Creaser (phonetic, pba), whom I’m still in touch with. And I was on the committee for quite some years. And one outstanding name, to do with this festival, a competitor, is Jack Gibbons. Now at the time when I first heard him take part, (I suppose he was nine or ten), he played a Chopin waltz. Well I was horrified by the wrong base notes, because it is very general in Chopin. It leaps about in the base always. And he was rather chewed up by the adjudicator. But nevertheless he evidently got down to work, as he was advised to, and I don’t know whether any of you know his name in connection with Gershwin. I think he’s filled The Royal Festival Hall with a recital of Gershwin. He certainly fills The Holywell Music Room with not only Gershwin, but Chopin as well, and Liszt. He’s got the hand for Liszt.
So, that was my connection with… and I did give the Oxford Festival two silver cups in the early stages because they didn’t have enough cups or medals to start with, and so my name will remain on these two cups. And it’s still alive and doing well. And they have the best of adjudicators: Anthony Hopkins was one of them two or three years ago.
Now another sort of little highlight: I went down to Cheltenham Town Hall, the first time since I played there with The Oxford String Players in the forties, and I heard Alfred Brendal give a master class. And I don’t know whether to say his pupil or his victim, was Imogen Cooper, who has gained an international reputation as a pianist, and a fine player she is. And I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed it. It lasted four hours, and he really did put her through her paces, and I could see she was almost in tears. And I’ve come to the conclusion that some master classes can be like that. I witnessed one at Dartington. So different from Rostropovich. I can’t imagine him reducing anyone to tears.
Well, another useful occurrence just about now was that we had an acoustic door fitted in the lounge, which, as you may remember was one large room as we had the wall knocked down. But I realised it wasn’t altogether convenient. So we had this door which you just pulled across, and is still there as far as I know. And it was very sound proof. So, with that, and my second piano in the back room, which was only used just for meals, I felt that I wasn’t causing quite such a disturbance in the house.
Now another highlight was my first of two or three visits to the International Llangollen Eisteddfod. And that was quite an experience. I usually took one or two local friends who were keen, and it’s well worth experiencing. Lovely dancing (and) singing. All of the best. And depending on the weather, it can be very hot, or it can be very wet, but I was usually fortunate.
And another highlight too, round about this time: I think I heard one of the earliest recitals when The Kings Singers were formed. And they sang out at Ewelme Church. And again I took a musical friend. My musical Austrian friend. And how thrilled we were. The acoustics were perfect. And of course we sat well to the front. It’s not a very big church. And of course you will know how famous they have become. But that was really their very earliest days together.
Another lovely recital at Ewelme was one of the few first recitals I should think, of The Endelion String Quartet, which has made a name in the years following, and really is my favourite quartet. They are fine players. The cellist has been Waterman, who is Fanny Waterman’s son, and I think he is still the cellist.
Well, so much for Ewelme. Now one other event. Of course Mary Archer (pba: WGRA’s second wife) died in … (I can’t remember). 1970, and it was my lot, being musical, to sort through her boxes in the store (pba: Archer Cowley’s furniture store). And I’d no idea… I think she kept every Christmas card for the past 25 or 30 years at least. And of course The Bach Choir Archives were in these boxes. I don’t know whether they knew they were there or thought they’d been lost, but really important items of years and years previously I found and packed them all very carefully into a box, a huge box, and also I did find some music that has been of use to me, that Mary had as a student. And Archer Cowley delivered this box of archives to the current secretary of The Bach Choir. Of course Mary was secretary, for many years, and from that day to this I’ve never had any acknowledgement. I know they’ve got them, because they were delivered by Archer Cowley. But I thought they might have acknowledged them, because they ought to have been very pleased with what they found. Anyway, so much for that.
Then there were several musical events at the WI headquarters at Middle Way, which of course is North Oxford. And thanks to me, they had a nice Collard and Collard piano, again which I’ve never had any acknowledgement for. The musical events could simply not have taken place, and I enjoyed playing on this piano. I sometimes wonder whether it’s still there. Anyway, so much for that.
Another event which I shan’t forget was a concert performance of Porgy and Bess, at The Town Hall, with Willard White, and an all coloured cast. And it was an excellent, excellent rendering of it. And Simon Rattle conducted it. Now that was in his young days. And I was so impressed, because I’ve followed his career, from the time he won an important competitiion in the days when he was only about twenty or twenty-two. And he’s, of course, risen to the top since. And I sat next to a rather attractive woman, and I turned to her because Simon Rattle didn’t take or didn’t respond to the amazing applause, and he let the company take the bows. And I said to her: How modest he is. It’s he who should be having all the applause, and she said in a very modest way and said well he’s my son, which was rather interesting. And her husband was recording the performance in the side gangway. And it was rather interesting because the following summer, I met them both (the parents) at Dartington. And so I reminded them and said we met at The Town Hall, and Mr Rattle was recording the performance, and she said yes he got into a lot of trouble, or he could have got into a lot of trouble. When it got to be known, I forget the name of the well-known music publishers, demanded that he took in the tape my first thing on Monday morning, or there would be a court action for copyright and all that. So anyway there wasn’t. Mr Rattle took it in, obviously, and that was that. So that was another interesting little incident.
And during this period I was in touch very much with Maida Stanier, who wrote quite a lot in The Oxford Times as Culex. I liked her verses. I’ve got several little books of hers. And she was known too, on radio Oxford because she used to read her verses quite regularly. And she thought it would be a good idea to add some music to it. So it ended up by my illustrating her verses, which was quite a challenge to me, but I enjoyed it.
And one of the recordings was called Tourists in Oxford, and I had to make up little bits here and there, and put appropriate music here and there, and it was broadcast about now, that period, 1975, or something like that. And then there was a second one, all about the villages of Oxfordshire.
And then she was keen to do yet another one. There was some event on at The Town Hall, which Humphrey Carpenter had something to do with, and she persuaded me to follow the others up with this rather sentimental ….. series of verses, to do with Woman’s Life and Love. And I somehow felt rather uncomfortable about it. It wasn’t like the previous ones that we’d done. But however, we did it, and then, when she suggested yet another, I said I thought I’d done enough and turned it down. But it was an experience.
Now I’ve spoken previously about some of my pupils, with interesting parents, and at this time I had a pupil, Robert Leighton, whose father was an interesting composer. They lived where the Havards used to live, almost opposite to us. And strangely enough, it’s such a coincidence, that Kenneth Leighton’s music is broadcast from time to time. A lot of it is choral music, quite a bit of it religious. But he was evidently a concert pianist, and he wrote for the piano as well. He went to Italy, and his wife is Italian. And he was moved, or he took a job from Oxford, to Edinburgh University, so I didn’t have Robert, the son, for very long. But, this morning, the 13th November, (2000, pba), I just listened to the news on Radio 3 at seven o’clock, and one of his piano compositions came over the air: a Sonatine No. 2. And Penny Gore, who introduced the programme, said it reminded her of Sati, and I agree with that. It was a light-hearted rather attractive piece. But sadly, a few years after he went to Scotland, he died quite suddenly at the age of 59. He died in 1988. So that was an interesting father I got to know.
Now another composer I got to know, and I don’t just remember how, but I think it was to do with reviewing a concert that we’d done, Cbristian Hunter and I at some time. And evidently he fancied her voice, and asked whether we would work together on his composition: Song of Rada. Now it’s rather, even he described it as an erotic poem. Well it was working from a manuscript for me, about 16 pages of it, but he was not a pianist, and composers who are not pianists have difficulty obviously with harmonies and how it sounds. And he thought it would be helpful for him, and perhaps a challenge for us, which it was, to work on this manuscript, and Christian, whose job was a full-time one then on the Oxford and Cambridge Examination Board, gave up a lot of time on this as indeed I did, for I suppose it must have been several weeks, and then finally we gave, he said he would like to hear a performance of it. So he came with a few friends, I think his wife, to hear this work, because our big room accommodated it well. And that was it, but I wish he’d been a little appreciative of it. I thought he might have given Christian a box of chocolates or something like that, but he didn’t. He did bring his own beer and his drinks for his friends, although I remember I did get a bottle or two of wine in. And so that was it. He was an interesting, rather a disappointed composer, he set Kubla Khan, Coleridge’s verse, and apparently it had been played in various places, Adrian Boult conducted it, and Sir Malcolm Sargent conducted some of his works, but he couldn’t get any of his music played in Oxford, not for years. It was a case of” A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country”. So that’s perhaps prompted him, although we didn’t play The Song of Rada in public anywhere, so I don’t know whether it benefited (him) or not, or (perhaps it was) just the pleasure of hearing it. And he wrote a lot of film music: fifteen (scores) altogether.
So, so much for Douglas Veal (pba: Beal?). I think The Bach Choir did sing something of his. He couldn’t even get The Bach Choir interested in his work, which seems rather unfair. (Edward, in background: John Veal? Gwen: yes, this was John Veal. His father was the registrar of Oxford University, and John used to say he was known as The Son of Douglas Veal, the Registrar of Oxford University). Incidentally, he went to Oxford, but read Modern History. And his father didn’t encourage, in fact he discouraged him, in his composition, and yet composition was the one thing that John would love to have followed. And he had difficulty in his studies, he did study with Egon Walsch (phonetic spelling by pba), who was a refugee in Oxford at that time.
Well, so much for Douglas Veal (I think she means John Veal, pba). In 1978, Helen Whaley, my pupil of past years, concentrated more on the harpsichord, because she’d developed Hodgkin’s Disease when she was at The Royal College of Music, and harpsichord is less demanding physically, than the piano, and it was a lovely event (pba: what event?). The Whaleys took me up to The Queen Elizabeth Hall, and Helen played one of Mozart’s concertos on the harpsichord, with The Mozart String Players. And that was quite a thrill for me.
And again, about this time, through a friend who had tickets given her, I went up to my first Prom. And I remember, (I can’t remember the name of the pianist) but it was the piano concerto …. We didn’t prom. We had a very good seat. But I remember because I was so used listening at home, on stereo, that the pianos seemed so far from me. And the balance of tone was not what I’d been used to. It’s what some of the critics say: you can’t better a good stereo set for the perfect balance, which I find in opera is so.
Anyhow, that was interesting. And Helen and I have kept up, all through the years.
And then at this time again, I don’t know how, I can’t remember how I met her, but a Russian pianist, who, with her husband, an American, lived for a time in a furnished house on the corner of “The Rough Road” (pba: an unadopted road, between Sandfield and Staunton Roads, next on the left after 17 Sandfield Road, going away from The London Road, with a little recreation ground on one of its Staunton Road corners), I can only describe it like that, and I got to know her somehow or another, and she had had an unfortunate first marriage with a Russian, (she’s Russian), and it was lovely, she was going to give a recital at The Holywell, and she played her programme through on my Bechstein grand, which was quite a thrill.
And she came to Oxford two or three years later, and played at Wolffson College, and we even played a duet or two together, which was quite a thrill. And they lived in Vermont in the States, not far from Solzhenitsyn, who had moved out there and bought quite a large place. And his son (Solzhenitsyn’s?) was evidently a bit of a prodigy. Natasha played The Carnival of the Animals with him out there at some concert or other. She was quite an interesting character, and a fine pianist. (Edward’s voice in background: surname?) Natasha Paden. That was her husband. The American husband’s name. I think he was a lawyer, and on sabbatical leave or something. I think that was it.
Now, shortly after this I went to Dartington. Now Helen Whaley had always recommended Dartington to me because she went there on a bursary from me, and so enjoyed it, and so she was sure that I would enjoy the summer school, which I did. I went two summers. The first summer I went to a “Pearl Mutter” (pba: phonetic, does she mean Vlado Pellermutter, which I do not feel I know the spelling of? No, surely not), the great Chopin and Ravel player. And again, I didn’t enjoy it because he really nearly brought his pupil to tears. Being sensitive, I’m afraid I don’t enjoy it. It rather put me off him completely.
But apart from that, it’s an experience well worth experiencing at Dartington.
And then the next year I went (Edward in background: what year? Gwen: that would be about 1979, I suppose), and I heard Jacqueline Dupres (pba: spelling?) giving a master class, and she was in a wheel chair then, but she managed it very well. But a very different Jacqueline Dupres that I’d heard in the Town Hall still at school, playing the Elgar cello concerto. I shall never forget that. I’d never heard such cello playing.
Well, then, getting on now, another group of interesting pupils I had were the Lloyd boys. There were three of them. And they lived down the road, towards the main road (pba: The London Road), on the other side, the Lloyds. I think they were something to do with Lloyds Bank, although their father was a cleric. And I taught two of them, and the eldest, Andrew, won a place at Eton. I did give him a few lessons in the holidays, but it was John and Stephen I took. And it was rather a pleasant experience. There was a charity concert in the concert hall at Eton, and Mrs Lloyd took me up there, and after a buffet supper, with the housemaster and his wife, we went to this concert, which was enjoyable. And I expect that was my one and only time inside the doors of Eton. They were an interesting family.
And now I speak of Bill Clennel who had done his grade eight with me. He worked at The Bodleian Library. He used to come in regularly to play duets. But I must say he got rather slapdash, and he didn’t get himself a good piano, which was a shame. But we did continue for some years playing duets.
And at this time too, I continued playing quite regularly with Phyllis Baker, the mother of Lady Young, who has been quite vocal lately in The House of Lords, speaking against the lowering of the age of consent among homo (sexual) s, and also against (I can’t remember the other….) anyhow, she has been quite vocal, and I admire her morality. We need a few more spokeswomen like that.
Well now, that I think, comes to the end of my notes for this 1970 to 1979 (period). I think I’ll end there for the moment, and continue another time.
Edward had just encouraged me to add a postscript to this session, regarding Jacqueline Dupres, I’m pretty sure she was at The High School (pba: where Mary Kate Archer taught), when I first heard her play, in The Town Hall, which would be way back , ………. I wish I could give the date. But Mary Archer must have known her, because Mary was teaching at The High School, and I think she taught there, because she started teaching there during the war she would have been called up for some kind of munition work, or something like that, because teaching was a reserved occupation.
And also regarding Mary Archer, she was for years the Secretary of The (Oxford) Bach Choir, and she had so audition newcomers every year, and she was very very friendly with Thomas Armstrong, in fact I know for a fact she had a very weak spot for him. And she knew his wife very well too. And so she led, when she married William Archer, she really led the sort of life she enjoyed. She was at Somerville College, and … but when I asked her regarding a degree, or what qualifications she acquired, the fact was she hadn’t any. She didn’t pass through her whole course. I don’t know how far she got, but I think it was composition which prevented her from carrying through and getting a degree in music, which must have been a great disappointment to her.
But, she enjoyed musical life in Oxford, there’s no doubt. She mixed with the top-notchers. Every Bach Choir concert she must have fraternised with the soloists. I know she did. And I was well out.. ..; I kept well out of it. But I had my own little circle, as you will have heard from this tape. And we really didn’t contact much. (Edward, in the background: did she teach singing in The Bach Choir? Gwen: no,….well yes, she did. She must have rehearsed them a tremendous lot. And of course that was her subject: singing, class singing choir work. (Edward in the background again: I believe you know how she came to meet William don’t you? Oh she met William through Olive and Gladys (as she was then), the twins, because they were at ….. (in North Wales). What was the school? (Edward: Colwyn? Gwen: they were at Colwyn Bay. I can’t remember the name of the school. It’s such a well-known school. I will probably tell you before I’ve completed this saga. (pba: the name is Penrhos College, I believe). And that’s how they met. And so… and they were married for twenty-five years, well into William Archer’s ninetieth year, or over. But she led a very full life in Oxford, because one of her demands was that she should have a housekeeper when she married, which she did. And she managed to have a housekeeper all the years that I knew of, and thoroughly enjoyed ….the, and I think was quite highly esteemed in certain circles. I’m afraid I didn’t get on with her very well, but it didn’t matter really. I went my way, and she went hers.
That completely concludes my reminiscences of the seventies. The next time I shall be …. I think this was probably the liveliest one, perhaps the most satisfying for me. I think it tails off a little bit after 1980, but we shall see. I’ll rack my brains and my memory and see what I can remember. Anyhow, ‘till the next time!
(Edward): As sound engineer on this little project, (laughs), I’ll just put in a word or two here. Gwen did the whole of that side, her 1970s, in one go, with just one short pause in the middle. Which isn’t bad is it, for a ninety-one year-old. Since she has thoroughly exhausted the things she wanted to say about the seventies, and there are just about three minutes of tape left, we’ll leave that blank, and she will continue with her reminiscences of the 1980s on another tape.).
The 1980s
Today is the 29th November in the year 2000. And I’m going to recommence my musical reminiscences in 1980.
And I’d like to begin with just a mention of Edward’s aeolian harp, which in (just about) 1979 was broadcast on Music Weekly and Pick of the Week, the result of a visit by Michael Oliver, to Sandfield Road, who recorded it. He also made a very delightful little wind instrument, which he called the Lunicorder (Lunichorder?), which was shortlisted in the Prince of Wales award scheme. And of course both played quite a part in my life, because I was hoping that at least one of them would get off the ground.
But at that time I had about six or seven pupils, some of them grade eight standard. And I was still doing some music sessions with the WI and Townswomen’s Guild. I went to Thame, Witney. But my enthusiasm for the WI was waning.
In and around 1976, in the Oxford Town Hall, I proposed a resolution about the experiments on live animals for cosmetic and commercial products because I felt very strongly about this. But I could never get any enthusiastic response from my WI. At any rate, the resolution got through, but whether it got to National level, I can’t remember.
And again in 1972, I was very enthusiastic about the music. Concerned with the arts, I did all I could in getting choirs and getting interest going in the various WIs, and again at seventy (1970?), I was beginning to find I didn’t like driving at night. I remember wondering what I would do if a man came out and put up his hands to stop me. Would I go on? Or would I swerve and stop? So I began to think it was time I gave up the driving at night. And also the pianos were generally very poor. And my tape recorder, which I think weighed about thirty pounds, was proving too heavy for comfort.
So I withdrew, and I was no longer a member of Old Headington (WI), and I withdrew my name from the speakers’ book, but I still went on playing around on request: a few local church societies where there was a nice piano, or the odd WI or Townswomen’s’ Guild.
And at this time I had some interesting pupils: the Child family, I’ll call them. There was Patrick, who got grade eight with me, and since Cambridge is in the treasury and lives now in Brussels I believe, and Fran, and Hilary.
Now I was very pleased to hear only a week or two ago, Edward met their mother in Headington, and Patrick and Fran had had a two thousand-pound legacy left them, and they were both going to buy a piano. Which was very gratifying to me in a way, because I felt they must have kept it up, as they were both grade eight standard.
Well now, this brings me to 1982, when I had my car accident, at the end of May, with an almost miraculous escape. That really took a lot of getting over. It was psychologically very disturbing. But the two daughters of the victim of my accident, Laura Barnett, were so kind to me that they helped me to recover from it. Their mother, she was ninety, and it was instantaneous. So that, in a way changed my life a good deal because I wasn’t able to get around. It’s strange that I had already had my doubts about travelling around with music in the country and so on.
Well, then, I find out from The Open University, that they were doing a course on The Rise of Modernism in music. Now although we’d touched on it in some of Christopher’s classes, when I saw what the material would be like, which they sent to me, I decided to try it. Not to have any ideas of taking an exam, but learning a little bit more and trying to understand the modern music, which went only up to 1930. But I found it very interesting and stimulating, and I’ve still got all the material: tapes and records, which aren’t a lot of use to most people today.
Also at this time, or perhaps following The Open University (course), …. Incidentally, I had no intention of trying the exam.
Incidentally, after my car accident, I gave up driving. For one thing I would have had to take a driving test. And so, because of this, I was looking for activities closer to home, and I began a course on the history of art, at Rewley House, which I enjoyed very much over two or three years on a Monday morning, because I felt I had lost out rather on that side of art with much concentration on music
Well, at this time, Helen and Graham were coming down, periodically, quite regularly for a while, to have a piano lesson. And I believe that since, Helen reached grade five, and took it and passed it.
And at this time too, a neighbour in Sandfield Road, Edith Cadle, (Caydel?), who was a member of the WI, asked me if I would be interested in a neighbour whose boy (I think he was about ten), who was having difficulty with his piano lessons, and whether I would be interested to take him on.
Well, I did, and obviously he was very musical. He had perfect pitch, and he could harmonise at the keyboard, even at that early age. But he did have a physical handicap in that he had a club foot. And somehow his hands at that time seemed to be almost as awkward as his foot, and I did wonder whether I would be able to do much for him regarding technique, but however I took him on, and we had quite a rapport in time, but it did take time. And the result was that fifteen years ago, (what?), and he did grade eight with me but missed it by five marks. I never thought he would reach such a standard. But then I felt I had done all I could for him, and I felt he should find another teacher. And he did, and eventually he passed grade eight just with the pass marks, which were five more than with me.
Anyhow, he got in to Wolverhampton University, .and he still keeps in touch, and at last he has settled down to work, and is thoroughly enjoying the course. And he rings me up nearly always once a week, I would say, and comes down and sees me in the holidays. He was a very interesting pupil because he was so gifted. His name was Hugh McKay. And I think he will eventually teach. He has always wanted to teach music, and I think that if he gets through this course, that’s what he’ll be able to do.
And another interesting pupil was Frankie Webster, who lived, and the family still lives there, in the Collieu’s house, almost opposite us (in Sandfield Road). And his mother brought him over to me when he was eight. Now he again was very musical, but very bolshie. I had to go very tactfully with him, because at any time I thought he would just say he didn’t want to go on, and yet I felt that he should because I felt that he had some talent there. And I really let him, over the years, follow his own likings. He wasn’t really interested in the classics. But he loved Scott Joplin, and so I gave him every encouragement, because if you can play a Scott Joplin base correctly, you can play a Chopin waltz correctly. It’s the left hand which is the difficult feature.
And he went on and on, and in the end he really had an enthusiasm for Gershwin, and he wasn’t interested really in technique. I managed to get him to do a few exercises, arpeggios and so on to improve it, but he so enjoyed it in the end and he is at Durham University and enjoying the music club there, and playing quite a bit whenever he has time.
I have mentioned Bill Clennel before, and about this time I decided I wasn’t enjoying playing with him any longer. He was becoming rather slapdash, and he would come and play almost non-stop for two hours. And he was talking of changing his piano which was an old Bechstein, for an electric piano. Now I warned him. I was sure he wouldn’t like it. But he had already organised one to come, and he didn’t like it. And I don’t know. He was without a piano for a time. He’d sold his Bechstein, and he used to come and practice on my piano.
Well, he’d been coming on and off, fairly regularly on a Monday, except when he was away of course, and somehow I felt that he was taking it all for granted, and I gave him always refreshment when he came, because he came straight from The Bodleian, something to eat and drink, (I think he would have liked something stronger than lemonade, but I’m afraid lemonade it was). And I did tell him that I felt I needed a break.
And incidentally, one Christmas, or prior to Christmas, he came with a bottle or two and asked me if I would put them in the fridge, while he was playing duets. Not for me, but only for him after he’d finished playing. And I really did feel that he’d been very unappreciative. I never had a thank you or a word of appreciation. And so that finished our collaboration, or our playing together.
And again at this time, I knew Doris Stogdale, who I’d met at Christopher’s classes. And I even met her mother. And her mother met my mother, so that’s going back a bit. She lives on Shotover. And we got on quite well duet playing. She perhaps hadn’t got Bill’s flair, but at least she was a more sensitive player. And to this day, we still enjoy playing duets., and she comes almost every Sunday.
Well now, again, at the end of 1989, I had a phone call from a Celia Benson, who rang me because someone had told her about me, a friend, and wondered whether I would play for her. She’d got a class that afternoon, arranged in St Andrew’s Hall in Old Headington, and had got nobody to play. She was starting a ballet class, which was quite an innovation. Nothing like it had happened before in Old Headington. And so I said yes, I’d come. And I told her I was doing it 65 years ago. And I even showed her some of the programmes of 1924/5. And I did it, not expecting it to go on for long, but just to get her out of a difficulty.
But we had such a rapport, and she was so kind and so appreciative, that it went on for quite a few years. And I’ll tell you more about it in my next session. And I felt it was a change of activity. It got me out of the house. A change of surroundings. And it was with young people. And I really quite enjoyed it. She sometimes picked me up. Sometimes I would walk across the JR (John Radcliffe) grounds. But I’ll speak more of this later.
Now about this time, Christopher (Headington) had given up his classes in Oxford, and they were missed. Unfortunately, he had the feeling that he wasn’t appreciated in Oxford, but I know very well that so many of the people who went to his classes so thoroughly appreciated him for what he did for them. And he planned and had a house built in Spain, not far from the border with Gibraltar, I believe, and so he sold up his house at Beckley, (and incidentally we bought two of his loudspeakers), and he went off to Spain. And it was a catastrophe really, financially and otherwise. Nothing turned out as he expected. And he didn’t find the peace that he thought he would. I think he would have found it at Beckley (more easily than in Spain, pba). But however, he was out there quite a short time, I think, and came back eventually, and bought a house in Devon. But he was very much missed in Oxford. And I don’t think his friends really understood why he should have given up in Oxford of all places. I think one can put it down to a mid-life crisis. For he was appreciated not only in Oxford, but he had his works performed in slots on Radio 3, his piano concerto, his violin concerto, are two that come to mind, and for quite a time he did “Record Review” (on Radio 3, pba). And he was quite a fan of Edward’s harp record. He didn’t review it, but he used it at least once in his classes elsewhere, when he went down to Devon.
I saw him quite infrequently. But I did have him and Marion Creaser (phonetic, pba) of the Oxford Music Festival to supper one evening, because I thought they might be interested to meet, which they were.
Well, I think that concludes my reminiscences of the 1980s. It obviously shows a slowing down as I was nearing 80. I had fewer pupils. I never did seek pupils. They really came to me, having heard about me, or their parents having heard. I never went out of my way to get pupils. And I would never teach a reluctant pupil. And so I rather picked them. I only took pupils who I felt would benefit from my teaching, and would respond. So, I didn’t seek more. And my energies weren’t the same at nearly 80 that they were twenty years previously.
So I think that concludes my reminiscences of the 1980s, and we shall get into the 1990s in the next session.
The Nineteen-nineties:
Today, is December 13th, and the year 2000. Now I’m going to begin the nineteen nineties of my musical reminiscences, but beginning with a quick postscript, because I believe I got the date wrong (for) when I began playing for Celia Benson’s ballet classes, which really was September 1988, when I was 79. I think that’s why I got it muddled. And I did it because I thought it would make a change, and I did enjoy it for the first two or three years. And the first year, for the first time I played for quite a number of the ballet exams, because Celia used to alternate. One year it would be all exams, and the next year she would put on a show.
So, I found the ballet exams quite pleasant because it had to be very quiet and concentrated and the children always seemed to respond somehow to the seriousness of the occasion, and were always very well behaved.
And in the 1920s, I didn’t play for exams. Ivy Chennel’s classes seemed to go in for competitions more. And I remember going up to London more than once, to one of the big hotels, evidently one with a ballroom, and that is where The Children’s Salon (it was called) was held, which was a big competition. And I remember so well, one little girl, I suppose she might have been about eight or nine, who always won it, and her name was Wendy Toy. And she did the Scottish Sword Dance. And I’ve followed her name through the years because she became, and probably still is, a well-known theatre producer.
And another little anecdote of my playing in the Twenties, was when I played for the ballroom dancing. That was a little more money. That was three shillings an hour. And I had left school, as I have said before, when I was quite young, (fifteen), and I remember a class, I used to meet my contemporaries. Girls who were still at school. And I felt, I had a sort of inferiority complex. Here was I, I know I was doing what probably they could not do, playing for dancing, but somehow a feeling of inferiority used to come over me. To think that I was there at fifteen, earning money, and they were still at school. And that didn’t enhance my self-confidence. Anyway, that’s passing, or it’s passed.
And in June 1990, Celia Benson put on one of her very successful dancing shows. And I was able to help, and she was quite glad to look at my old 1920s programmes of the shows that I’d played for. And I was able to select most of the music for her, because I’d got such a lot here to choose from, and we chose quite a lot of Fraser Simpson’s “When we were very young”, and “Now we are six”, and the children so responded to those, and I enjoyed playing them of course.
Then, in the Spring of ninety-one, we had a move in prospect. And of course it meant selling the Bechstein Grand, which in a way was sad for me, but it had been rather getting too loud for me. It was seven feet in length, and it really was too loud for the size of room. In fact I used always to shut down the lid, and I enjoyed playing in the other room on the upright. However, I sold it to Headington School, which in a way pleased me because I felt it was going to be appreciated, and used. So that was in the Spring of 1991.
And of course on May1st, FG died. And we had a house in prospect then. We’d seen it. At 17 Ambleside Drive. A smaller one. Much more modern. And with central heating and an automatic washing machine, neither of which we could have at 17 Sandfield Road without major plumbing operations. And I used to find a Sunday, when I did the washing, really exhausting. I couldn’t really do much more on that day.
And about this time, following our move, I had a cataract operation. And that was very successful. I couldn’t believe what I saw immediately afterwards. I only had it on one eye. The other one, the other eye is completely covered by a cataract, but the sight is such now, that since the op(eration) I’ve never had to use glasses for music. For reading music. And that has been a great joy to me, because getting glasses the exact distance is quite tricky.
Well then, about this time, soon after we’d moved, one of our Old Headington members (she was President in the sixties, the year before I was), got in touch with me because she was organiser of the drama group. And a group of them, eight perhaps or ten, wanted to do a musical evening. Of course that needed a piano and somebody to play it. And because I thought it would be nice in a fresh house to have people I knew, and it would somehow give nice musical vibrations to the house, a kind of housewarming, (I invited them here, pba). So they were delighted to come. They started coming in the autumn, and used to come most weeks, I seem to remember. And it was quite enjoyable playing such light music, like: “O Mr Porter” and “You made me love you” and “Waiting at the church”, all that sort of thing. And of course for the show, in December, they all dressed up, and they were most appreciative of me and my hospitality and my playing, and gave me I remember a ten pound book token, which was such a surprise, and very much appreciated.
Now that was in 1991. And at a similar time, I don’t know whether you know about The University of the Third Age? Because the same WI member, Jesse McLaughlin, was very enthusiastic. It was founded about fifteen or more years ago, in France, and actually Bill Clennel, the former pupil of mine, his wife was very active in getting it going in England.
And it’s really to maintain an intellectual interest in various subjects. People who’ve been teachers or interested in one particular subject, or able to do so, would form a group. And there are such subjects as calligraphy and art, and all sorts of subjects. And of course, I being musical, she thought I might be able to form a music group. Which I did, and they got together eight or nine. They started off by coming about once a month. Well that got too much for me, and actually I found the venue, which was up in Headington, the other side of Headington, near the Green Road roundabout, and I found it difficult to get there.
So I gave up being a member, but they still wanted me to keep the music group going, which I was pleased to do. So they used to come here. I think I found it too much at first, and I said I’d give them two or three meetings here.
Well now, about this time, the show, the ballet show, was coming on for completion. That was in February 1992. That was at Bayswater School, and I didn’t do all the playing. Half of it was done by Celia’s other pianist, who played for her other classes. So he did his half, and I did my half. And it was quite fun, and everyone was very appreciative, but I found it very noisy. The rehearsal I found rather noisy, (what with, pba) the mothers and the children. Anyhow, it all went off very well, and I was presented with lovely flowers etc.
And talking now of pupils, just a reminder that at this time I had only two pupils: Hugh McKay, who I’d had since 1985, and Frankie Webster who I’d had since 1988.
Now Hugh was not an easy chap to deal with. Very musical. I’ve spoken of him, I think, before. But, in time, I had him in mind for taking over the ballet (classes), because I thought it would be very good discipline for him: both sight-reading and rhythm, which was not a strong subject with him.
And it turned out to be good for him, I’m sure it was good for his playing, and for the next two or three years, he did quite a lot for Celia.
I think I’ve spoken of his handicap, and he didn’t find playing easy. Anyway I’m glad to say that he’s halfway through a music course for a degree, at Wolverhampton University. And he rings me up most weeks to tell me how he’s getting on. And he seems to be enjoying it.
And Frankie Webster, he didn’t want anything academic at all. If I had put him onto Associated Board music, or a mention of exams, I think he would have given it up. So he played what he enjoyed, which was Gershwin in particular, and he plays it very well. And he again keeps in touch. I hope to see him during the Christmas holiday. And I gave up Hugh in (I think it was) about 1995, when he went in for Grade Eight, and failed by five marks. And I think with a little bit more effort he might have made the grade. And I felt I’d done all I could for him. He’d been with me for about ten years, and I thought that a change would be good. And it proved to be, because in a year or two he got those extra five marks for Grade Eight. And also with me he had passed with Distinction, Grade Five Musicianship, which was quite a new exam for the Associated Board, one that should have been put in years before, because it included extemporising and all sorts of useful musical equipment. And he got a distinction, and eventually, with another teacher, he got Grade Eight Musicianship, with distinction. So he did go to University pretty well prepared. But he tried a year, no a term only at Portsmouth, and became so depressed, almost suicidal, that he came back, and then took on some of the ballet for me, which was quite a happy arrangement.
Then we get to 1993, and I was still (involved with, pba) The University of the Third Age. I was still enjoying meeting them. About twice a year they came. And we did subjects such as Gershwin and Rachmaninov, Debussy and Scott Joplin, and the origins of jazz. And I think what it was: they so enjoyed live music. They enjoyed my playing of the piano. And I was able to teach them quite a bit, and it was really a happy arrangement. And we did Percy Grainger, and Bach, I talked about the fugue, Bizet and Chopin. That was 1994.
Now a very happy event in 1994 was my birthday, on July the seventh. And I was in the middle of the dancing class, or I must have finished an item, and I was called down from the platform, from the piano, and Celia, there was a sudden burst of song: Happy Birthday To You, which was July the seventh, and Celia gave me a most beautiful bouquet of flowers. And of course it puzzled me how she would have known. And of course I was right in my guess: Edward had given her the tip, because he felt that never again would my birthday fall on a dancing class afternoon, which of course it never would.
At about this time, in 1994, the WI again approached me with regard to a show to go on in October. And they wanted to do “The 1920s”: some readings, songs of the 1920s, and they were happy, and of course I was quite happy, for them to come here, and rehearse. And although we didn’t sing it, my mind went to The Roses of Picardy, written by Hayden Wood. And I went to school at Wickham House, Brondsbury, with his niece, Pauline Wood. Her father was a flautist in one of the London orchestras.
Then, about this time, Christopher (Headington, pba) got in touch with me, and asked me if I would see about a piano for a recital the following Spring, in 1995, because he’d been asked to give a recital, at St Andrew’s church, in aid of the hall extension fund. And he said would I see about a piano at Acotts because he particularly wanted a Bluthner, so it was a little job I did.
And, the U3A was still going, and I remember we did Schumann. And I was playing duets with Doris Stogdale. She came down here and we played happily on the upright. And I’ve enjoyed duet playing very much, because there’s such a wonderful repertory. Schubert wrote some of his finest works, for example the F-minor Fantasy, we play, and the Mozart sonatas, and Dvorak Legends, and Dances, so that it’s quite a change of music.
And I ought to say here too on Christopher’s day on Brahms, at Rewley House. This was in October 1994. And I remember he kindly referred to our duet playing in the Holywell Music Rooms, when we did the Brahms Liebesliede Waltzes, with a vocal quartet. Incidentally, I heard it over Radio 3, one day last week, and it brought back memories. It’s a lovely piano duet part.
And then we get to 1995, and Christopher’s recital at St Andrew’s church, Old Headington, and the church was full, and he asked me if I would turn over for him. It’s not exactly and enjoyable task, but I’d done it several times before for him. And I don’t know that he was as prepared as usual, for this recital, and in one of the Chopin studies, I had an awful moment because he missed his place somehow or other. Fortunately I knew the studies pretty well, and it passed without notice. It was a success financially and musically.
The following year, we get to 1995 now, and he came here to lunch. He’d been skiing I seem to think. And he came about half-past twelve, in a very expensive-looking Porsche car. I think he was doing all right. He lived in Devon then. I thought he looked jolly tired, and suggested a siesta, which he had, and went off about four o’clock, or so. And then he sent us a Christmas card that year, thanking us for the lunch. And I rang him in the new year, to have a chat, which proved to be the very last one, for, the following year, in the spring, my friend Ilsa phoned me one morning, to say that she’d heard that he’d died in a skiing accident.
He died intestate, and next of kin apparently was almost non-existent, but I think a cousin turned up, and he had recently done quite a lot of recording. And there was a memorial service later on in the year at St Andrew’s church, and it was nice to meet other friends who had followed his career, been to his lectures and so on.
And then a friend, Gerald Bale, took me to Bradfield College chapel, because it was a kind of memorial service, and apparently Christopher’s “Responses”…. I half expected to hear a cantata or something like that, but it wasn’t anything like that. And there was a sort of buffet supper afterwards, and I was walking in the lovely grounds, and chatted to somebody and we got into conversation, and I said I was from Oxford, and he said he went to school at Oxford, and he turned out to be the head of Bradfield, (started here using a tape transcription machine to transribe the tapes.) name of Peter Smith, and he’d been at Magdalen College School, and knew Michael and Philip Archer.
Continuing my musical reminiscences of the 1990s, we’re in 1996 now, and how I met Peter Smith, the headmaster at Bradfield, and how he spoke about Anthony Collieu and his family being vegetarians, which I was pleased to hear, and that Anthony was Director of Studies.
And I ought to correct here the exam which Hugh McKay passed. The exam was practical musicianship, because it took place at the piano.
Now, I’m going to talk a little more about the ballet, and how I gave it up, in 1996. That year, the ballet show was given at Milham Ford School, and I was invited to go, because by now, all the music was on tape, so piano was no longer needed, and to my surprise and pleasure, at the interval I was called out from my seat which had been in the front, almost the front row, and I was presented with the most beautiful basket of flowers, and a lovely big card with all the signatures of the children as a retiring present, and it was such a surprise to me and so kind of everybody.
And the reason why I had had enough (was that) it had become so noisy, because by then, the exam music, not the exercises, they need a pianist for that, but the rest of the exam music was sent on tape. And so, the more tape there was, and I sat at the piano, and had to hear this taped music which was much too loud. And also, I don’t know how it is, but I don’t remember such screaming at classes. As the classes got bigger, it got better known in Old Headington, and the children, when they weren’t actually dancing made such a noise because they were quite near to me in the committee room just behind the piano. And the parents talked so much that I could hardly hear Celia’s instructions in the hall.
And this also Hugh found very trying, although he did play for Celia for two or three years until he went to University, but he found the noise very trying. I think if you are a bit of a musician you are bound to be more sensitive to it. And I felt I was becoming redundant with so much taped music, that I was happy to give it over to Hugh, and he took it on until he went to Wolverhampton, which I suppose was a year or two years. And I think it was good for his playing. He had to be more accurate, and more precise, but even so if ever I heard him, I felt he’d got a long way to go before he developed this inborn rhythmic sense. But however Celia was pleased to have him. He’s such a likeable chap, and when Hugh went, Hugh was able to find a friend who gladly took it on, and I think, as far as I know he’s still doing it.
But I was quite relieved to give it up. So then I had still my one pupil, Frankie, used to come quite regularly whenever he could, and enjoyed his lessons, and his family enjoyed his playing and bought him a very nice Yamaha upright piano. So I’m in touch with him. In fact I’m in touch with both of them.
And yes, incidentally, Frankie went to Magdalen College School, so it was rather nice for Edward. We sort of kept in touch, and although he, I think he was very happy there, but his parents never took any part in anything to do with parents at the Commem or anything like that. Rather different when I was a parent and we were trying to get subscriptions for the extension, the hall, and so on.
Now, the U3A group was still flourishing, we did English piano music, and Schubert, and then I got to the pitch that I had almost done the classics, and I suggested some of the lighter musical shows, and that was welcomed very much. And (we did) a Gilbert and Sullivan (session), and we included The Belle of New York, and The Merry Widow, and of course they loved to join in the chorus. And what I think they so liked was the live music, and although I say it, I think they just enjoyed hearing me play.
So really with these light shows, I felt I’d come to the end of anything fresh for them, so the last meeting we had was in March, this last March, 2000, when we did Jerome Kern, and Gershwin and Noel Coward, and then they asked me if I would do another one in October, but I couldn’t think of anything fresh for them, so Edward said he would give them a talk on the Aeolian harp. And so he played them the Radio 3 programme with Michael Oliver.
And I might mention here that since about 1994, Edward has been playing the piano. He’s taught himself. I’ve done very little for him because he hasn’t welcomed it, to be quite frank, but I can help him by playing the pieces, mainly light music. Again, he was rather like Frankie; he didn’t want the classics. So he’s really enjoying it, and he’s had a whole lot of light music passed on to him by his old friends the Hamiltons. Evidently Mr Hamilton was quite a pianist in his day, and left piles of this light music which will gradually come our way.
That concludes my nineteen –nineties, a mixture of major and minor, happiness and sadness. And I’ll speak briefly about my present day musical life on the next time.
Today is the 20th December in the year 2000, tomorrow will be the winter solstice, and we’ve had the wettest autumn on record, and I’m pleased to talk about the present day. I don’t enjoy looking back so much, at ninety-one-and-a-half. Living at 17 Ambleside Drive, which is comfortable and warm, and incidentally Eastie (Mrs East, who since the forties has done domestic work for GMA, pba) preferred it to 17 Sandfield Road. She thought it was much nicer. And she died in 1994. I was able to see her quite a few times towards the end, after I’d been to U3A meetings. The hall wasn’t far from her home in Pitts Road.
Well, I’m healthy in mind and body, which I’m very thankful for, and I enjoy the simple things of life. I enjoy a good night’s sleep, and about six o’clock, perhaps a little bit before, or after, I make myself a mug of tea, and then I listen to Today, or Radio 3, whichever I prefer. I love reading in bed. At the moment I’ve got John Betjemann’s second volume of letters, because there’s a mobile library within easy walking distance, and they will get me any book I like to ask for, for a pound. So I think I’m very fortunate there. I have breakfast in bed. I go and fetch it just before eight. And most part of the year, I have it in sunshine, which again is delightful, after which I have a bath, and then I see about what we are going to eat for lunch, which is usually pretty simple, and if necessary, we make bread. Edward puts the elbow grease in for the end part, and puts it into the tins.
And also I usually, once a week, make some cakes. We enjoy bought ones to some extent, but it all adds variety, and the days pass pleasantly. And I think we all ought to be thankful for that, for more than half the world couldn’t say that the day passes pleasantly. I have no pupils, except Edward whom I help when he’s in the mood. I wish I could help him more, but he’s getting on, and enjoying it. My pupil Hugh, who’s reading music at Wolverhampton, is heading for a degree in music. It’s been a struggle. And incidentally, only a day or two ago, we heard that Wolverhampton is now a city, as is Brighton. And Hugh rings me up, usually about once a week, and talks about his work and what he’s doing and what he’s playing. And Frankie is reading History at Durham, and they both like to come and play to me. They both like this piano.
And I play duets with Doris (Stogdale), quite regularly, usually on a Sunday, while Edward is at Theosophical Society headquarters in London. So that works out rather well. The one thing I have noticed (is) that as I get older, I prefer listening to gentle music, not too loud or too passionate. I think my passion is all spent! And for my own playing, and I do have to keep my technique going, because it’s only technique which enables me to play with feeling, to be able to express my feeling I have to have the technique there to do it. I think Yehudi Menuhin made a point of this, and said what a joy it is when you have reached that stage, when you can express yourself easily. So I do run over the keys, and play the odd Chopin study, but I love (usually on the piano is some Schubert), I love Schubert’s impromptus, I love Mozart sonatas, a little bit of Tchaikovsky I play, The Seasons, which really are monthly pieces, but they’re very attractive, they’re often played on Radio 3 the odd one or two when they’ve got some minutes to fill. And I play the odd Chopin study, and Waltzes, and also I have a go at his wonderful Fantasie from time to time. Then I’ve got so many scores, when in the mood I can get out a Gilbert and Sullivan, or selections from the shows, which takes me back to the thirties, and my fingers are flexible which I’m very thankful for, and they work well. My joints are no bigger than they were sixty years or more ago. Not like my poor friend, my violinist friend, Ruth Kelgren, who had to give up playing years ago. And also I read music without any glasses, which is a joy. And I love Gershwin. And then again, I think my vegetarianism of 25 years plays a part in my health and well being, and having read Dr Porter in The Radio Times, which I always do, he recommended half an aspirin to keep the blood a certain thinness. So I add that to my nightly potion. It all seems to work very well.
And of course I have the companionship of someone little more than half my age. No, I’ve got the mathematics wrong there. Half my age. I think I’m very fortunate to have someone so mentally alert that I can discuss things with. I think it’s old people being segregated together, which makes for dullness and their mental faculties gradually deteriorating, so I do count my blessings there. And but for him, I should probably have faded out a year ago with ‘flu. He so looked after me, and brought me round. And we usually, or we quite often watch the same documentaries on TV, and it’s wonderful to be able to discuss it with somebody. I imagine sometimes what it would be like to be alone, and I don’t like the idea at all. And with wide interests, I can’t enter into all Edward’s interests any more than he can into mine, and there’s so much common ground.
And again I say, contentment is great riches to quote “Nursey Persey”, that wonderful nurse who was with me when Philip was born.
And again, the best things in life are free, which was a song of the thirties. But they don’t write lyrics like that any longer.
Well, I haven’t said much about music, because I think I’ve already said all that, but I can assure you that I still enjoy it. It’s part of my life. And certain music gives me such a lift. I love hearing Vaughan Williams. It’s the essence of England, and that’s why I love reading John Betjemann. He was such an English lover, and he loved the English country, and its architecture. So, I don’t just live in this house. I live in a very much broader area. Thanks to music, and the lovely nature programmes on television. “Living Britain” has been a wonderful series. The four seasons. And I’ve thoroughly enjoyed them.
Now I think I should conclude. In the next session I shall be summing up this musical life. It’s been… although I don’t like looking back, I think it’s only by looking back one can understand the present, and I think that’s why all politicians should be historians. And so looking back has helped me to understand my life, and I think it’s been good for me. And I’m going to do that at the end of this year, completing the year 2000.
Today is Christmas Day in the year 2000. A suitable day I thought, as it’s quiet and peaceful, to conclude my musical life.
Well, looking back, I certainly am very thankful for the love of music, for it has enriched my life. And the piano has always been a magnet. If ever I have visited a house, somehow I couldn’t keep away from the piano if they’d got one. And I realise that my ability is limited to some extent, and my education even more limited.
Now I was a very sensitive child, I realise now. And I’m afraid my parents didn’t. And as a result, I think I suffered rather more than I might have done. And leaving school too early was really the reason for my lack of confidence. I don’t think I could have got very far in the BBC with such limited education.
And I shall never quite understand my father agreeing to let me leave at fifteen, except that I wasn’t really very good at any other subject, and I thought I was just going to concentrate on music. Whether he intended sending me to a music college or academy, I shall never know. But he never did, and never voiced it at all. And that was my trouble: the lack of communication in the home. We never discussed subjects that really mattered. So I left school, and unfortunately, I am sure, I was a late developer, because I did the LRAM quite easily all the way through, every subject, at twenty-two. And I must say here that of course my father did agree to pay the individual teacher. I went, I think, once a week, for a lesson. But by that time I was already earning a little bit with my music, which clothed me.
And another thing which I shall never understand about my father: when I realised I hadn’t a living at my fingertips, I suggested learning shorthand and typing, so that I could earn some money. But that, it was beneath his dignity that his daughters should be just a shorthand typist, and yet he didn’t make me any allowance, or help me to further my music education. Eventually he did, because my mother agitated so, because she felt that I had nothing to make a living in my hands.
Anyhow, I got the LRAM, and that gave me a certain confidence. So much so that I applied to the well-known educational agents Gabbitas and Tring, to see what jobs were going. And there was one, a residential job teaching at Lawnside Malvern. Now that’s a lovely school, and little did I know what a lovely place Malvern is.
However, there again, lack of courage, I cancelled the interview, and that was it. I thought perhaps I wouldn’t settle to an institutional life, having had a certain amount of freedom, in fact a lot of freedom, living at home.
Anyhow, I strove on, to improve my technique beyond the LRAM Teachers’ Diploma, and I did acquire through sheer hard work, a pretty good technique, but I realised my limitations, that I would never be a solo pianist. And I think I was temperamentally suited to be an accompanist, because I didn’t mind playing second fiddle, so to speak, and I enjoyed it, because there’s such a wonderful repertoire of piano playing in Schubert’s songs, the Lieder, and French songs, Debussy and Ravel and so on, but, working with singers, I did find them very egotistical. They’re quite different from instrumentalists. I suppose its because their instrument is themselves, their body. They haven’t the in-between instrument of a violin or a cello. And I got on with them all right, but I found them very full of their own importance, and ability. And many of them hadn’t a lot of real musical ability. I think that’s where they have to have a repetiteur, which I would rather like to have gone in for, but I think, being a female, I wouldn’t have got very far because the repetiteur really helps where the singer is failing in musical knowledge. The pianist helps her, in the rests and the detail. And in a way I quite liked that, but I don’t think I would have got far enough.
And of course, as I think I’ve said before, my career was hampered by my mother’s emotional instability and her restlessness as a result. I noted in Raymond’s journal that he referred to her restlessness, because I think his education suffered as a result, also.
And when we moved to Richmond, that was a complete break for me. I think I have referred to it before, when I took the secretarial course, which was a real grind. I had no time or energy for piano. To learn short hand and typing in six months well enough to take a job was a full-time occupation. And for me, being musical it was really hard work. And as you will have known, I’d had six months of a wearing and intensive course, and I did get a job as a trainee, I think it was called in those days.
But I took it in a pretty run-down state. Well, then, as you will know, FG turned up, and Miss Redfern, who was one of the adminisrators asked me a very important question, and if I’d been true to myself as I have learned is such a profound saying (to thine own self be true, thou cans’t not then be false to any man), and to her I was not true. She asked me whether I was getting married because I thought I wasn’t doing well enough in my job. And instead of saying (as was the truth): yes, I was, I said: Oh no, because she then went on to tell me that no one was the least good to them for at least six months. It took them six months to get into the swing of things, into the routine. So that, I’ve often thought of that, if there is any vital or profound saying, it’s that: to thine own self be true. And I think I have tried ultimately to follow that.
And so, in a way, I was hurried into marriage, because my future husband wanted an answer almost on the spot. And within three months, we were married. And you’ve heard about the depression I suffered in Oxford following that.
But at any rate, I had time to regain my piano technique and to enjoy playing. My husband was always a good provider, never obstructive, but uninterested and uncultivated where music is concerned. The only programme I ever knew him to listen to, and he did it quite regularly on a Sunday evening, was to The Hundred Best Tunes, which Alan Keith produced. And I must say I think it was his Sabbath-like voice, which was the appeal on a Sunday evening, perhaps more than the music.
And of course FG, he couldn’t share the love of my life. However, I have many compensations. And I had a stable marriage, enabling me to follow my music life, three sons all healthy in mind and body, one a violinist, and two piano players, all three of them enjoy light music, and of course my great compensation was living in Sandfield Road, and in the lovely City of Oxford in particular, and the lovely surroundings. I would rather walk through Christ Church Meadows than along Brighton Front.
And at ninety-one and a bit, I still enjoy listening and playing, and I have a sense of fulfilment. And I have still the technique which I strove for. If I had practised regularly, what I should practice, my technique would not be much below that of many years ago.
And, looking back, I’ve enjoyed music without being in the rat race, because there’s a tremendous lot of jealousy and bad feeling in the music profession. I’ve learned that. I’ve been able to enjoy it as an amateur. The very word speaks the difference between being a pro. I just did it for the love of it. And even the teaching was enjoyable because I had receptive pupils, and got a number of them through the vital exam of grade eight, which is essential for going further to get into a college, or academy, and of course I realised how the quality of playing has so improved. The teaching of piano has so advanced since I’ve been doing it, and the standard that young people achieve, to me is amazing today. The young musician of the year, I watch and listen to them with amazement, because I sometimes think that had I had better tuition earlier, I might have advanced further, but I think my early lack of confidence would have been an obstacle to me as regards any kind of solo playing. I did do some, but it was always on an amateur basis.
And again I think of all the lovely sheet music that came my way through Freshville, and again, living in Sandfield Road, and of course, going back to the Penfold family, it seems to me that I’m about the only one in the family who has shown any interest or talent in music. As I’ve said, my father had a certain amount. Probably, if it had been encouraged in his early days, or he’d had opportunities to play an instrument, or to get on with his singing, he could have done better. And what is rather interesting, I asked Margaret (Raymond’s wife, sister-in-law of GMA –pba), only a few weeks ago, when I was on the phone to her, whether Raymond had ever made any reference to my playing, because after all, I did most of my exams that mattered while he was at home, in fact all of them. And it meant a lot of practice. But Margaret assured me that he never mentioned it. Because I wondered whether it had been rather tiresome to him to hear practice, but evidently it didn’t worry him at all.
And I suppose that was the same with FG. He heard me playing, but he wasn’t aware of what I was playing. I think that was the case really. The fact is that my music has provided a solace for me, all through my life. It’s been the compensation for my aloneness that I’ve often felt. And I’m a great believer in the law of compensation or law of Karma, cause and effect, and one thing that I feel that the … what I’d done to deserve the criticism of my father, and the lack of affection, I shall never know. I think the greatest thing parents can give their children is affection and approval, to engender confidence. So I always had a lack of courage or guts. I remember my singing partner in my very first recital, she thought we’d been very brave to embark on it at The Royal Pavilion, and she always said Fortune Favours the Brave, and I think it is a very good saying, and I’ve often thought it or said it.
And in compensation during my life, I’ve had all manner of good fortune. As I’ve said before: the grand piano, Freshville’s music, the upright piano, coming to Oxford to live, and although being semi-educated, I mixed with the academic elite of Oxford, and taught their children, something I could never have dreamed of when living at Brighton.
When I taught part-time at Headington School, I felt respected for the aspect of me most important to me: my musical ability. Actually, recent floods remind me of another school I used to visit once a week, where I had that same feeling of confidence, and it was Southover Manor School. Because of the recent floods, I thought of them quite a lot. I think probably the school may still be there, it was very near the Anne of Cleeves cottage where Henry the Eighth put his Anne who he didn’t like the look of, and she I think remained there for many years. And at the same time, at Lewes, with the money I earned at Southover Manor School, where I taught, and played in a beautiful lofty hall on a beautiful Bluthner piano, and then had tea with the staff, and that did really boost my ego. And in Lewes, this was of course when I lived at Brighton, in the thirties, when I used to go by train to Lewes, and of course Glyndebourne was just opening at that time, so Lewes station was quite well known. And also in Lewes, I discovered an excellent pianist by the name of Evelyn Monroe, who had given one or two Wigmore Hall recitals, and with the money I earned at Southover Manor School, I was able to pay for some lessons from her, and she really put me through the mill, but I learned a lot regarding technique, with her.
At ninety-one-and-a-half, I am still enjoying listening and playing. Two evenings ago, I listened to practically all of The Merry Widow, live from The Met. And I could hear practically every word, either sung or spoken, like the old days of my opera-going. You don’t hear it as clearly today as a rule. And over this Christmas I have Alfred Brendel, a documentary coming up later-on this evening, which I shall watch, because I saw him/heard him in the Sheldonian a few years ago, and there’s The Nutcracker ballet, much of the music of which I’ve played. And Rossini’s Cinderella, which is lovely music.
And altogether, I have a feeling of fulfilment, because I think I’ve passed on knowledge, I’ve somehow passed on my enthusiasm to my pupils, and I’ve seen and heard results, and one of my favourite quotes is another Shakespeare (one): There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we may. Now there’s in that saying, I feel very deeply that somehow I have been guided somehow or another by some power or call it what you like. Some I suppose would say God, and I don’t know why not.
And I think I’ve always done my best in all my life, all my activities, and I did my best with my available talent, although I might have rough-hewed some of my opportunities, but this concludes my musical life story. I hope you’ve found it interesting, and it has been done with love and affection, and not without effort, but I feel now that it’s been worthwhile. And without Edward’s encouragement you wouldn’t have been listening.
So, until… the next time…..
(end).
C:\My Documents\Family History General\Gwens musical life story.doc (pba/18.2.03)