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AS IT WAS IN THE BEGINNING
Retired Police Superintendent Adrian Sawyer 1953-1960 looks back to 1953, when he joined the School in Broad Street on a scholarship, to recall cherished memories and his gratitude for the opportunities and experiences that have shaped his life.
The Schoolroom at Broad Street
Autumn Term ‘53 at KES began on Wednesday 16 September and my mother, a seamstress at Titley, Son and Price in Cheap Street, had taken the morning off. We walked up Broad Street, past St Michael’s Church, The Saracen’s Head and Payne’s boot and shoe shop, soon reaching the entrance to Powells’ Yard. Powells made sweets! Next building on our left was King Edward’s School and, after a peck on the cheek followed by ‘Good luck, Son’, I stepped nervously through the gates, climbed the steps and entered the centuries-old doors at the left-hand end of ‘Broad Street’.
After descending narrow stairs to the basement, I climbed the main staircase to the First Form classroom where Mr Willett, Second Master, was waiting to welcome boys from the Prep School and six or so new boys from local authority schools. Ewart Willett – ‘Pop’ Willett to the boys – was to be my Form Master and for the next five years he and Old Edwardian ‘Bill’ Burden would teach me Latin. I was amongst the cadre of new boys (‘scholarship boys’), having passed the Eleven Plus examination whilst at Widcombe School and then survived an interview with the Headmaster, the indomitable H M Porter. He taught English from Vth Form level and read Chaucer to us in medieval English, translating for us as he went.
But this was later – I must return to ‘the beginning’. I knew not a word of French or Latin and soon encountered the first conundrum in a bewildering day. ‘Pop’ Willett led the way to Big School and seated the ‘First Years’ on the front desks. He left us in the care of Prefects – Head Boy was C R Chandler – and returned to the front hall, where he joined the waiting procession of masters. They soon entered Big School, gowns swirling, some getting caught on the vintage 1754 desks. There were prayers by HMP then Chandler rose and went to the lectern. He called the register at break-neck speed and shouts of ‘Adsum’ echoed around Big School. Believing that the responses were the word ‘Absent’, I thought to myself: ‘It would be a bit of a squash if everybody was here!’
The Headmaster, H M Porter
An early event was being amongst ‘23 boys in Form 1, for not learning their French vocabulary’ signed S A Brewer. This was an entry in the Detention Book, which was kept on the windowsill in the main hall for all to see. A detention within 10 days of term starting! ‘Syd’, as he was known to the boys, knew what he was doing. (An experienced master, who taught French with a Devonshire accent, Mr Brewer later steered me through A Level French.)
My first year at KES was marked by the absence of two people – fellow pupil and now longstanding friend, John Ennor and the Chemistry master, Colonel McKee. Each had developed tuberculosis the previous year and, for 12 months, John’s name was called by the Prefect in the daily roll call – called twice, as was the custom when there was no answer the first time. During the Colonel’s absence there was a temporary Chemistry master, Mr Booth, who failed hopelessly to maintain discipline. He carried with him the leg of a chair, not with which to beat the boys but to crash down on the nearest desk in an effort to quell the noise. Bill Currie would come in and, with just a glare, silence the mob instantly. He was to become one of my heroes.
Music lessons were taken by a peripatetic music teacher, Mr Cleak, who, with moderate success, managed to get us singing whilst accompanying us on the majestic Steinway.
Geoff was the better pianist but I had my moments of musical ‘stardom’ later in school life as for several years I played the organ at Bath Abbey for Founder’s Day and was the first boy to take A Level Music at KES.
Not being sporty, I loathed the run along the canal towpath to Bathampton before rugby or hockey, which left me exhausted before the game began. If chosen to run back to school, that was even worse, as laggards like me arrived when all the hot water had gone! But I have very few horror stories to share about life at KES. Most embarrassing was the reading of marks to the assembled school by HMP at the end of each term. Rarely was I high on the list of achievers, save for French where I regularly topped the list – but I was in good company. Amongst those of us languishing near the bottom of class were several who achieved remarkable careers and I have often wondered whether being able to record ‘King Edward’s School, Bath’ as our alma mater eclipsed our academic achievements.
I must conclude with ‘What happened next’, lest some might think I am still struggling along the canal towpath towards Bathampton! I had joined the CCF in Year 2, but Bill Currie’s attempts to persuade me to pursue a military career failed. (He remained a friend until his death and I cherish the memories of visits to Oriel Cottage and tea with Bill and his wife.) I joined the Metropolitan Police in 1961 and, upon completing the statutory two years on the beat, became a Mounted Policeman, serving continuously in central London. I married a nurse from St Thomas’ Hospital, Lambeth and we have four children and five grandchildren. Latter years in the Police Service, 36 in all, were spent in the West Country, where I held senior operational posts throughout Bristol and the County of Somerset. I spent a short time working at the Home Office and enjoyed five final years at Force Headquarters near Portishead.
Looking back, one of my proudest moments in life must be when I nervously entered ‘Broad Street’ in September 1953. I had fulfilled my dream of becoming a pupil at ‘KES Bath’. Not impossible but unlikely for a Widcombe schoolboy, the son of a butcher and a seamstress, coming from one of the most deprived areas of the post-war city, to become the first person in my family to remain at school beyond the age of 14. My debt to ‘KES Bath’ can never be repaid.
John Ennor (left) with Adrian and Gay Sawyer
'The Cooks', CCF Summer Camp at Yoxter, 1958 (Adrian centre back row)
