1958-1959

It should be added here that, in 1958, my year marked the first entry of 100% pure Huddersfield New College pupils. The older classes were a mixture of former Huddersfield College and Hillhouse Technical School scholars. Indeed, for at least my first year, it was possible to see senior boys in three different versions of uniform: the black blazer and old badge of the College; the red blazer of Hillhouse; and the new black blazer and yellow badge combination of our amalgamated institution.  

We were brought into our first school assembly at the front, to be addressed by the Headmaster, Mr A R Bielby. I recall that he looked at us newcomers and remarked “It appears that you have all managed to obtain uniforms”. He obviously hadn’t seen me, or – perhaps with reverse logic – deliberately decided to say this, so as not to embarrass me. Regardless, as the only one without a blazer (just a dark jacket), I already felt out of place.

Mr Bielby then went on to describe what was expected of us by the school. We would work hard to obtain the best possible results in our General Certificate of Education Ordinary Level examinations (GCE ‘O’ Levels), then build on this in the sixth form to pass our advanced papers (GCE ‘A’ Levels) at a standard required to enter a good university. It wasn’t impossible for us to dream of higher education at Oxford or Cambridge.

Frankly, he’d lost me at working hard. There was no way that I could consider anything after the date when legally I would be allowed to leave school. I would finish at 15. And that’s exactly what happened.

But I was a survivor. Even later when it was discovered that I was illegitimate, leading to a playground confrontation with a group who said “Leonard, you’re a bastard. That’s what you are!”, I just learned to shrug it off. Today’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper, as we used to say. 

I was never bullied, simply not accepted as a member of any of the school’s cliques. That situation suited me, although over time I became more secure in my status, having learned to stand up for myself where necessary, often using humour. And, of course, I made friends who thought like me.

Against this background, perhaps it’s not surprising that I reverted to my “just do enough” approach to education. Most interestingly, when my career path is reviewed in retrospect, the four subjects which I enjoyed – and correspondingly to which I paid more than passing attention – were Maths, French, Latin and German.  

The Maths was a no-brainer; Huddersfield New College was shown to be one of the strongest performers in the subject in the north of England. The reason? The examination board’s GCE ‘O’ Level course textbook was written by A R Brierley – our Headmaster – who had assembled the cream of mathematics teaching talent at his new school. I believe that nigh on 100% of pupils received an ‘O’ Level pass in Mathematics.  

(I was later to study maths as part of my mature student degree course in marketing. Even twenty years after leaving school, my knowledge of the subject was still far superior to that of my younger classmates. Such was the standard we had attained under Mr Bielby’s tutorage).

As concerns languages, I was surprised and delighted to discover that I had an aptitude for the subject in general. After the event – proven by subsequent experience – it’s now obvious that I could have made my initial knowledge of languages stronger, and thereby more enjoyable, had I simply carried out revision of vocabulary at home. I knew perfectly well how to fire the weapon; I was merely forgetting to load the ammunition. But then again that was too much like hard work, against my principles of just getting by. The cramming of vocabulary was to come later in life.

I stood out in another way: I was a minority Roman Catholic in a Church of England establishment. 

 

Even though Father Power’s reaction to my choice of school had already tarnished my views on religious observance, I was nevertheless officially a Catholic on the school’s records. In this manner I became a member of the fifteen or so non-Church of England representatives who were treated differently at school assemblies.  

Our group, made up chiefly of Catholics with a couple of Jews and a single Hindu, would only enter the morning service after the completion of hymns and prayers. We would file onto the back of the balcony via an upstairs door to hear the reports of the day. At the beginning we all mingled on the first floor landing chatting, waiting until called forward. Then, after a few weeks, we Catholics were summoned separately to a nearby classroom where a teacher started to lead us in daily prayer sessions.  

I had quickly got used to the advantages of being an outcast in religious matters; this morning prayer initiative – probably made with the best motivations – now served only to increase dissatisfaction with my lot. Even at this young age, I was already well on my way to rejecting religion. Nevertheless, my outsider status did bring one extra benefit: I was excused Religious Instruction lessons for the whole of my secondary education. I used this weekly free period to do my homework in nominated “private study” classrooms.

I must admit here that my recollection of some of the details about our time of living on South Street are vague and therefore not fully reliable.  

Irrespective, I recall that my mother had gone back to work, this time in a local mill. How she arranged for the care of Carole when she was working, I cannot be sure. I know that there was a council-run day nursery on Leeds Road, opposite the old Huddersfield Town football ground, where I believe that Carole went for a period, but the timing of this is unclear.

I remember visiting my mother at work one time, at the Alan Priests textile mill in Lockwood, just down the hill from our home. From experience I received later, I now recognise the section she worked in as a yarn spinning shed. The noisy, giant machines which traversed back and forward whilst adding twist to the stretched yarns seemed like something from a science fiction film to me. Indeed, I think that I may have been allowed to stand on the frame as it moved to and fro, something which would not be permitted now, due to transgression of a vast number of health and safety rulings. Everyone had a different attitude to industrial safety in those days, something I was to become increasingly aware of once I myself started work. 

Whilst working at Alan Priests, my mother met an older bachelor who had worked there for many years, Norman Brook. After a seemingly short courtship period, they were married in March 1959.  

(Auntie) Emily Brook; Norman Brook; Catherine Leonard; (Auntie) Winnie Lightowler & (Uncle) Eric Lightowler

Carole Leonard (later Brook)