Reminiscences: Aubrey Verna Colefax (Pupil, 1916-1920)

My memories are drawn from the period 1916 - 1920 inclusive.

The school was then situated in Mary Ann Street, Ultimo. One walked down Harris Street from George Street, passing the Technical College and Technical High School on the left, and then immediately turning left into Mary Ann Street. Still on the left in this street, one advanced up the hill past the side of the Technical College, arriving at the entrance to Sydney High School at the top of the hill. The main building was of red brick, consisting of two stories. A narrow passage way separated it from the Technical College. The school tuck-shop was situated in this passage. On the other side of the school's main building was the so called playground. Its entire surface was of asphalt. Its perimeter consisted of low form-like seats permanently fixed, and fully occupied at lunch time. There was another two story building at the other side of the playground on the corner of Mary Ann Street and Jones Street. This was part of the Technical College, but the High School had the use of the ground floor. This space consisted of four rooms - the staff room, the theoretical science lecture room, the practical science laboratory and a first year class-room for class 1 AG. Across Mary Ann Street directly opposite was Scrutton's Foundry and Engineering Workshop. The multi-decibel volume of sound issuing therefrom was not conducive to smooth knowledge assimilation. When I started in 1916, the Headmaster was Mr R. J. Hinder. He was a portly man with a close cropped white beard. He had a gentlemanly dignity, and though a vocal and stern disciplinarian, he was basically kind hearted. His nickname amongst the boys was "bunger", because he was reputed to be explosive when annoyed.

The Deputy Head was Mr W. A. Moore affectionately referred to by the boys as Wally. I think it may have been some time in 1918, when the whole school was shocked and saddened when it was announced one morning that Mr Hinder had succumbed to a heart attack during the night. As I recollect it, Mr Hinder had been at school the previous day. He was succeeded by Mr C. R. Smith. He was a dapper little man with a white moustache. I guess he was a Latin Specialist, as the boys almost immediately christened him "Caesar" and therefrom his office was known as "Caesar's Winter Quarters." This was coined from a Latin text book Caesar's Gallic Wars where the phrase occurred frequently. Nevertheless it was appropriate, as the office was, in fact, a dark cold room.

The teaching staff during my five years there, to the best of my recollection were as follows:

English and History: Messrs Smairl, Cantello, Fletcher, Greaves, Larum, Moffitt, Castleman, Hudson, Killip.

Classics: Messrs Cain, Craddock, O'Smith, Kelly, Gibbes.

Modern Languages: Messrs Derkenne, Denehy, Mussmann, Cohen, Murphy, Savage, Wootten, Snowden.

Mathematics: Messrs George, Godfrey, Outten, Leaver, Frott, Hallman.

Science: Messrs McNiven, Watson, Johns, Wright, Towns, Willmott.

Commercial: Messrs Moore, Steele, Brodie.

Physical Culture: Mr Cropley.

Mr Smairl was head of English and History. He was very gentlemanly and nice - a tallish man with an ample white moustache, pink skin and robust build. He had an exaggerated pronunciation of sibilants like T. V. gardening expert Alan Seale. The boys always referred to him as "Whistling Rufus". After I left school he wrote a book called "The Story of the English People". It was an admirably concise history, and was used for some time as a secondary school text book.

Mr Greaves had charge of my initial period at the school. It was English and the text book was The Talisman by Scott. He was a very sober impersonal imparter of knowledge, quite unsmiling and humourless. No doubt this is why the boys referred to him as "Dead-horse". However, he could exhibit some animation if actuated by the right stimulus, as we observed on the occasion of a visit to the school of some members of the Conservatorium of Music. One of them was a beautiful girl of olive complexion and sea-blue eyes. During the assembly we caught "Dead-horse" ogling and smiling at this girl, from quite a distance between them.

Mr Cantello: I was never a pupil of his, but I recall him being of slim build, and having big brown flashing Latin eyes. I believe he advance to a high position in the Education Department.

Mr Fletcher: likewise never taught me. I remember him as quite a tall man, with extraordinarily thin and long skull structure and a body which somehow matched this. For this reason the boys had nicknamed him "Slat".

Mr Castleman has a huge nose, and was known as "Stickybeak". His speech was liberally punctuated with the word "er", as he hesitated to marshal his words. The strange thing was that he was totally unaware of this failing - so much so that in a lecture to the Debating Society he emphasised the vital importance of smooth flowing speech delivery. We lost count of the number of "ers" which so liberally punctuated the lecture. One of the boys with artistic pretensions sketched a large caricature of "Stickybeak". The caption below it was "To err is human".

Mr Moffitt Mr Herbert W. Moffitt, M.A. remains affectionately in my memory, as he was a very kind friend to me at school, and for sometime thereafter. I still have the reference he wrote for me when I left school ...... regular contributions to The Bulletin.) Because of a somewhat patriarchal appearance, the boys referred to him as "Dad". In my last year, he would often set us written work to do in a given English period, and then pace back and forward in front of the class, intently studying a thick blue-edged note book. We all knew that he was ambitious to obtain his law degrees. I guess he would be then in his fifties, and he went on to a brilliant success in the law, progressively graduating from Solicitor to Barrister, and then to an Honoured Judge in the Industrial Court. He was the father of the present Judge Athol Moffitt. Unlike Deadhorse Greaves, Mr Moffitt infused sparkling good humour wherever possible into our English lessons. For example, our Shakespeare text book for the final year was Coriolanus. The texts issued to us were expurgated. Mr Moffitt was reading to us from his (we suspect, deliberately) unexpurgated edition, where Coriolanus has entered the home of his arch enemy Aufidius, in disguise. A servant accost him and said (Mr Moffitt reading): "How Sir! Do you meddle with my master?" to which Coriolanus replies: "Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress". To-day this might cause a smile, but in 1920 the class exploded in an uproar of merriment. When it subsided, Mr Moffitt, with only the ghost of a smile, continued on with the reading.

Mr Cain was more generally known as Captain Cain, having been formerly attached to the army. He was a genial little man with a twinkle in his eye. He was a wonderfully proficient teacher of Latin. He had invented his own ingenious methods, which one might have dubbed "Latin made Easy". He had his noun plan covering the five declensions, and his verb plan covering the four conjugations active and passive. Each plan was a comprehensive tabulation at which one could get required information at a glance. He also had a series of mnemonics. The present tense endings of verbs of third and fourth conjugations subjunctive mood are "am", "es", "et". To remember this our teacher told us to imagine a boy eating a ham sandwich, and then the "am es et". (The ham he's eaten). The endings of masculine nouns of the third declension are: o, or, er, os, es. Mr Cain told us to imagine a girl in her rose bower looking through it at the sky. Then think of the phrase "Oh, o'er 'er 'oses" (Oh o'er her roses). That I still remember such lurks indicates how effective his mnemonics ere. It is almost seventy years ago. One day by way of diversion, he wrote on the board: "Dico Caesar eris ego fortibus es in ero", and asked us to translate it. They were all legitimate Latin words, but we couldn't make head or tail of it particularly as we were only in first year. Mr Cain said with a twinkle: "Aren't you duffers" and wrote on the board:

I say, Caesar, 'ere's a go;
Forty buses in a row.

Mr Craddock was in charge of Classics. He was an accomplished Latin and Greek scholar, and looked it - just like those reproductions of the sculptures of the heads of famous Romans or Greeks of the B.C. times. As a schoolboy I wondered if his head and face had gone that way through him being constantly immersed and deeply devoted to classical Latin and Greek. Why he was nicknamed "Dickie" I cannot guess. His initials were H. O. He wrote either the music or the words, or possibly both, of the school song, a copy of which appears elsewhere.

Mr O. Smith ( I show his initial to distinguish him from Headmaster C. R. Smith). He taught us Latin for a short time. When I was 25, I met up with him at a Masonic Lodge in Sydney. I said "You taught me Latin at S.H.S.", to which he replied "Have you ever forgiven me?"

Mr Denehy was my first German teacher. It could be said he was a nasty type, ever ready to belittle and embarrass a pupil when it was quite undeserved. A Chinese boy named Tet Fong had won a Bursary from Tingha, and was in my class. One day, Mr Denehy, in addressing him, used the term "Ching-chong-Chinaman", and brought tears streaming down Tet Fong's face. Had this nasty man been reported to the Head, I'm sure he would have been removed from S.H.S. if not from the Service.

Mr Derkenne was a nice little Frenchman with a red moustache. Of course he taught French which was not one of my subjects, but I remember he was popular with Masters and boys.

Mr Murphy taught us German. He was a relatively frail man with sunken cheeks. He appeared to be much more interested in health topics than he was in German. The boys were quick to sense this, and were constantly trying to divert him from German to his favourite topic. In this they frequently succeeded. He would discourse at length on the manifold virtues of wheatmeal bread. It could not have been very long after I left school that I learned that Mr Murphy had succumbed to T.B.

Mr Mussmann or more appropriately Herr Mussmann was a dear old German gentleman, still retaining very much his native accent. He was quite tall, heavily built and shabbily dressed. He alternated between Cleveland St High School and S.H.S. and it was said he invariably walked, despite the appreciable distance and his age. As might be guessed, he taught German. The boys called him "Mussie" (vowel sound "oo" as in "loose")

Mr George was in charge of mathematics. We called him "Jackie". He was a slightly bent bag of bone, a small figure who seemed to scoot along rather than walk. He had a drooping moustache, and high cheek bones. His face was so small that it made his spectacles look unusually large. He was a Scotsman, or of close Scots descent.

Mr Godfrey taught maths. He was a tiny man wit a red blotchy face. Unfortunately he was the type whom the pupils inevitably victimise, and use as an opportunity to have a good muck-up. He was known as "Willy the Weed".

Mr Outten remains in my memory as a pedagogue who would take a blue riband against all competitors for his magical knack of imparting knowledge. He could teach maths successfully, even to pupils of relatively dull intelligence. It was my privilege to have him for a teacher. He was then a young man. I remember the Rugby match in 1916 for School v. Old Boys, won by the latter with Vic Outten as their star. At that time he didn't have his degree. However, 30 years later, I happened across a text book written by V. R. Outten M.A. There I found he was the author of nine maths text books, and co-author of another eight.

Mr Foott was regarded as a brilliant mathematician, but in contrast to Mr Outten was a relative failure in imparting his knowledge to any but the brightest students. He was a six-footer always immaculately dressed and faultlessly groomed. He had smooth rounded features with a suggestion of femininity, which no doubt explains the reason why the boys selected "Phyllis" for his cognomen. I recollect the boys putting some ferrous sulphide in the inkwells, and just before "Phyllis" was due to come into the room, some hydrochloric acid was added, causing the effluvium of sulphuretted hydrogen (rotten egg gas) to spread around. Mr Foott merely said: "I would remind you boys that I am gifted with very strong lungs, and you are causing much more discomfort to yourselves than you are to me". But he didn't respond so casually to the next bit of chemistry. One boy made a tiny tunnel in the end of the chalk and inserted a miniature pellet therein, made by wetting a particle of iodine with ammonia. This was quickly tamped in with chalk powder before it had quite dried out. We were all in a state of excited expectancy as Phyllis began to write on the board. Suddenly there was quite an explosion and a big yellow stain appeared on the board - an illustration of the extreme instability of ammonium iodine. Nobody would own up to the offence, so the whole class had to suffer a lengthy detention. If a boy was guilty of insolence or such a misdemeanour in class, Mr Foott would seem to ignore it. He would set us an exercise to do in our books. Then he would walk quietly around checking over each boy's shoulder to see how he was progressing. He invariably carried a Hall & Stevens geometry text book under his arm - quite a robust book. The offending boy, engrossed in his work, would suddenly be aware of a shattering blow across the back of his head from the heavy geometry book, and the class would break into uproar.

My last view of the Hall & Steven was of a book in a state of imminent disintegration. It was Phyllis Foott's main reprisal weapon.

Mr Leaver also taught maths. He had a habit of stamping his foot. His nickname was "Lucy". Like Mr Moffitt, while we were working out exercises in our books, he would pace back and forth studying his law course, but I never learned what success he achieved in this field.

Mr Watson known as "Andy" was a large tall man having the appearance of an English aristocrat. He taught science. He had the distinction of having been a member of an Antarctic expedition, which, in those days was a rare distinction indeed. He also played First Grade cricket for Waverley.

Mr Wright was a science master very popular with the boys. He had a habit of addressing one as "Jasper", much the same as the word "mate" is used nowadays. This is the reason for him being always fondly referred to as "Jasper" by the boys. He met a very sad and untimely end, being one of the drowned passengers on the ill-fated ferry "Greycliff", sliced in a collision with a large ship on Sydney Harbour.

Mr Towns also taught science. He was known as "Jackie". He was of powerful build, being a brother of George Towns, at one time rowing champion of the world at a time when rowing was regarded as a glamour sport. On more than one occasion, Mr Towns would set up an elaborate apparatus on the demonstration bench for an experiment to show how a particular known scientific constant was arrived at. When the experiment resulted in a figure widely at variance with the correct figure, Mr Towns would blandly say: "The difference is due to leakages in the apparatus".

Mr Willmott was in charge of Science in my latter years at school. He was a nice man with an expression suggesting he was always on the verge of tears. He had a peculiar strained gait in his walking. A boy called Hathaway was heard to say" "He walks like he has an egg permanently stuck in his anus."

Mr Brodie was an effervescent smiling little man in the commercial section. His specialty was shorthand. He had invented his own system which he called Orthic Shorthand. He claimed he could take 240 words per minute, which I thought was stretching it a bit.

Mr Steele taught book-keeping and business principles. He had a pock marked face, and large prominent teeth. I didn't do these subjects, and regarded Mr Steele as friendly and affable. But he was not so popular with all his pupils. I recall this bit of graffiti on the wall of the boy's toilet:

 We used to call him Steelie, and then we called him Husks;
From there we called him Lemonskin, and then we called him Tusks.
His face is like a lobster - his belly's like a pie –
his expression's like a daggy sheep that's just about to die.

On this classical note, I intended to end my memories of the masters, when the word "classical" suddenly reminded me of Mr Gibbes who had returned from World War I with shell-shock. He was a Latin teacher. His face was still subject to frequent spasms and twitches, but he was essentially cheerful and humorous. In his recitals of traditional history relating to the subject, he liberally used his own pithy phrases. For example Mithradates had caught a rival pilfering his gold. Mr Gibbes, relating the story, went on: "and so Mithradates satisfied the robber's lust for gold by pouring some of the molten metal down his neck". A boy called Macdonald in translating a passage from Latin into English had used the phrase "watching water seep from the bank". Mr Gibbes strangely had never heard of the word "seep", and was fascinated with it. He held the paper at all angles squinting at it, and exclaimed: "Macdonald what a lovely poetic word - wherever did you find it?" But his remarks when examining one of my efforts to translate an English passage into Latin, were in a quite different vein. After squinting and frowning at my work, he said to me "Colefax, this passage of yours is beautifully written, but unfortunately for you, it is not Latin". In the preceding memoirs, I have not dealt with all the listed masters, but only those who were most notable in my recollections.

Alan Watt was a student at the school, being a senior when I started there. He went on to University, and became the Rhodes Scholar for 1920. He was a brilliant scholar, and a champion tennis player. He went on to eventually become a very high ranking officer in diplomatic circles in Canberra.

Ross Gollan, a contemporary of mine, also achieved success in Canberra, as a noted political reporter.

George Stenning became a prominent medico, and, I believe, surgeon in Macquarie Street.

Selby Burt became general Manager of Tooths Ltd.

I have just selected these gentlemen at random from my memory. I'm sure that investigation would reveal a long list of notable successes by pupils who attended S.H.S. in the years I was there.

We had religious instruction one period a week by visiting ministers. I was in the Methodist division. Rev. Deane was the first parson. He was a short stoutly built man, who had the distinction of being a forward in the first grade Western Suburbs Rugby League team. He was succeeded by Rev. Nolan, a tall man with red hair and a sandy complexion. His son was a pupil at the school.

There was a shop for school requisites on the corner of Ultimo Road and Harris Street, owned by the then well known firm of G. B. Phillips & Son. The shop was looked after by Miss Mack, a very nice middle-aged lady. We all knew her as Miss Mack, but I seem to vaguely remember her full name may have been MacNeil. She was greatly liked and respected by every boy who crossed the threshold of her little shop. It was not uncommon for small coteries of boys to foregather there for pleasant discussions with Miss Mack. She was there for my full five years. I am not aware as to how long she was there before 1916, or for how long she remained there after 1920, but it is certain that hundreds and hundreds of boys would have become known to her during her tenure. It was said, and I am sure it was true, that Miss Mack remembered clearly the names and faces of every boy who attended her shop throughout all those years. A glowing reference to this kind maternal lady should be included if and when the annals of Sydney High School are written.

Two other females should be mentioned also. They were our cleaning ladies, Mrs Hunter and Mrs Hyde who resided close to the school. They were respected and liked by the boys. If an artist required an ideal model for painting a picture of Mother Machree, he would no need to have gone any further than Mrs Hunter.

Then, as now, S.H.S. was the only high school which was a member of the Great Public Schools. This was resented hotly by all the other members, with the possible exception of St Josephs College. We always sensed some kind of affinity with Joeys in contrast to an awareness of a vicious class distinction where the others were concerned. We were referred to disparagingly as "Second Hand Shop" and "Sydney Horse Stables". In my years at S.H.S. and previously, the annual Regatta on the Parramatta River took pride of place in importance over all sporting events. On Regatta night there were gala celebrations through the city's main streets, culminating in a mass attendance at Her Majesty's Theatre. Eventually the Old Boys' Union organised purchase of a boat and necessary equipment and arranged for a first class rowing coach. And so S.H.S. was able to enter in the Championship Eights. I think the year was 1925 (this is subject to check), and they won handsomely. There were no combined traditional celebrations that night, nor have there been any ever since. No doubt the disappearance of this custom became consolidated by victories by S.H.S. being repeated in the next two succeeding years.

The Shakespeare text book set for my penultimate year in 1919 was The Tempest . A cast of players was selected by Mr Herb Moffitt with a view to putting on the play toward the end of last term. This was eventually done at the old Repertory Theatre situated up the hill from George Street in the vicinity of Grosvenor Street. We were assisted by Miss Elsa Parkinson and Miss Gladys Canning from the Conservatorium. We played for two nights to full houses. To complete the program some excerpts from The Taming of the Shrew were presented.

There were quite a number of boys remembered because of unusual characteristics. I will choose a few at random. Vincent Pike comes to mind. He was short and fat, and was known as Tubby Pike. He was a rabid red-ragger. At that time the I.W.W. (Industrial Workers of the World) was the Public Enemy No. 1. One of their principle anti-capitalist activities was the burning down of establishment buildings. Tubby was a self confessed ardent supporter of this body, and he preached his revolutionary doctrines openly to anyone who would listen. He even brought to school samples of destruction and combat devices used by the I.W.W. I recall that one such was a stout wooden stick about twelve inches long, heavily loaded with lead at one end. He lagged behind a lot in his education, which caused regular visits to the school by a concerned sister, Veronica by name, to make enquiries and see what could be done about it. However, sometime after I had left, he managed to pass in the Leaving Certificate, and eventually go on to qualify as a solicitor. I believe in his profession he became a kind of working man's friend, thus maintaining in a more sensible manner a practical sympathy for the under-priveleged masses.

Dave Meaker came from the Bega dairy-farming area. He was a very raw country lad and was painfully shy and almost terrified when first entering the school precincts. He had short trousers reaching to the knees, and full length black stockings. He had a felt hat without a dent which was turned up all round, just as it came from the shop shelf. However, Dave rapidly adapted to his new environment, and it didn't seem very long before he was clad in a smart three-piece suit with long trousers, and had become brightly outgoing and popular with all.

Jimmy Neave was a bursar from a tiny place called Tumbalong near Gundagai. He was a small weedy lad, and, like Dave Meaker, was somewhat stunned at first at the sudden change in his life-style. He boarded with a parsimonious aunt who would not allow him to use a light in his rom for study or homework. So, weather permitting, Jimmy did his study out in the front of the house beneath the street light. He had a flair for classic literature, plus funny mannerisms. For example he would stop another boy in the playground and grab that boy's tie. Then stroking the tie with a bi-manual milking action he would say in a dramatic voice: "Sweet youth, I thee do love!" His pass in the Leaving must be the strangest ever, before or since. It read: One H, one A, One B, and one L.

George Coughlan was a bursar from the north, from Tingha i think, or was it Manilla? He finished up in the clergy, and as the Rev. George Couglan, he became famed state-wide as the leading marriage counsellor.

Quite a few boys commuted long distances daily to school. I remember Orth from Penrith; Tabrett from Katoomba; Bartlett from Woy Woy, and the four Stainer brothers from Gosford. These would not be so noteworthy nowadays with the much speedier electric services.

In my time there were four school terms. The end of term holidays were as follows: First term Easter one week. Second term towards end of June - Midwinter - two weeks. Third term (September) Michaelmas - one week. Fourth term Christmas - six weeks.

Our school magazine was The Record, published quarterly. It reviewed all notable happenings, sporting results, and such like, as well as giving a lot of space to literary contributions by the boys. Valuable interest was provided by a pupil named Murphy who was quite talented with providing caricatures and cartoons.

During my time at school, there was compulsory military training for all physically fit boys. They were divided into Junior Cadets and Senior Cadets. There was also much importance attached to Physical Culture, for which Mr Cropley was the teacher.

We had the use of Wentworth Park Oval for sports training, and as a home ground for Rugby matches. It was a relatively short walk from the school. It was the home ground for the then Glebe Rugby League Club. The curators were Paddy Gray and Dutchy Brolley. Most of the boys enjoyed their company. They were the types on which C.J. Dennis must have modelled his famous Sentimental Bloke. They were both typical Aussie ockers. Paddy's brother, Bert Gray, played in the pack against England in the 1920 Rugby League tests. Our senior Rugby Union boys trained with him on Wentworth park.

There was petty thieving from the school laboratory. There was much consternation when a master found that the storage battery was missing. That afternoon every boy was questioned and his bag inspected as he left, without result. It was probably stolen days previously. However, I must confess to being guilty of some petty thieving myself. Another boy from my hometown acquired chemicals and apparatus parts over a period of several months. This was done mostly on Wednesday afternoons, when we "wagged it" from sport and the school was generally unattended. We even dared to venture into the masters' room - a kind of holy of holies, where the more unusual chemicals were kept. Our object was not unworthy. We planned to lecture and demonstrate at our hometown school. This we eventually did in December, having carried the gear to the school in a large old style laundry basket filled completely. I trust the Statute of Limitations precludes me from being arrested on a charge of petty larceny, some 66 years ago.