No . 131 The Trusty Servant
Sons of Art
Alex Martin ( C , 67 – 71 ) remembers Grahame Drew ( Co Ro , 58 – 80 ) and Jonathan Hills ( C , 67 – 71 ):
The enigmatic smile . The hooded eyes . The stately walk . The trips to Italy and Glyndebourne … This curious alchemy led generations of Wykehamists to a lifelong passion for art , architecture , gardens and opera .
Grahame Drew taught Art at Winchester from 1958 to 1980 . Not just Art , but the Art of Living . He was a paradoxical figure : greatly loved , yet impenetrable , a man of mysteries . The obvious ones ( his wealth , his private life , his past ) were the subject of schoolboy gossip , but it was the less obvious ones that drew us in .
His eyes were narrow slits of darkness that seemed to absorb everything . In their depths shone a splinter of golden light . To a schoolboy this was a most refreshing sight . It sent a message of gentle and fatherly amusement — so different from the official line we were used to — a message of encouragement , acceptance and tolerance .
In the late 1960s and early 1970s , schoolteachers had an awful lot to tolerate . The ‘ youth revolution ’ was in full swing , with its counterculture , pot-smoking , deafening music , libertarian individualism , ‘ cosmic consciousness ’ and so on — a far cry from the traditional spirit of Winchester , in which scholarship and Christian values were paramount . Yet Grahame and his contemporaries put up with this menacing cultural fusillade with an openness of spirit and a trust in our common sense that was little short of heroic . The Headmaster , John Thorn ( 68- 85 ), supported by his wonderfully idiosyncratic and sympathetic wife Veronica , must have been at the centre of this , but they were ably helped by some great-hearted members of staff . I think particularly of the Rev ’ d Paul Bates ( Co Ro , 70- 80 ), Tommy Cookson ( 64-65 , 67-72 , 74-90 , 03-05 ), Michael Burchnall ( 49-83 ), Mark Stephenson ( 59-90 ), Jock Macdonald ( 64-97 ), Michael Fontes ( 66-04 ), Gordon Pirie ( 63-84 ), Ken Grose ( 69-73 ), and those kind , upright , mild-mannered housemasters who somehow kept the lid on our seething adolescent cauldron from day to day : Martin Scott ( 62-86 ), Johnny Stow ( 53-86 ), Tony Wood ( 48-86 )… Richard Bass ( 46-80 ), whom I knew best , ran Cook ’ s with extraordinary skill and humanity while coping with the grief of losing his own son .
Grahame Drew ’ s house , 7 Kingsgate Street , was a place of refuge for both dons and boys , with its huge black door and brass knocker , its rooms muffled from the world outside by books , paintings , carpets , silks . We were too young to interpret its meaning , but that house was an eloquent expression of his mind and personality , a worked-out application of his ideals of art , aesthetics and educated good taste . It was also enormously hospitable . Afternoon tea , which Grahame offered three days a week to anyone remotely interested in Art , was sumptuous and — one sees it now — a highly efficient mechanism for taking the pulse of the boys , by letting them talk freely . The Prince de Talleyrand was renowned for using the cooking of his chef Carême as a weapon of diplomacy ; Grahame Drew weaponised his housekeeper ’ s chocolate cake with similar effect .
Grahame died in 1986 , but his influence lives on . One of his keenest disciples , and a close friend in later life , was Jonathan Hills . A highly gifted painter and draughtsman , Jonathan was a loyal frequenter of the Museum ( Musā in the local dialect ), where Grahame held open house for anyone who wanted to try their hand at Art . Jonathan ’ s natural gifts blossomed there , deftly nurtured by Grahame .
Inspired by the air of liberty that Grahame exuded , Jonathan and I , and our friend Hugh Ward-Perkins ( C , 67-71 ), decided to take History of Art A level . This was taught by Grahame in a most surprising way . We would gather in a small darkened room in Musā and watch a slide-show of masterpieces of , say , Italian Renaissance painting , while Grahame stood by the screen and waved his hands about in vague circles , saying , ‘ This may look to you like a lot of figures jumbled round a crucifixion , but actually there ’ s an invisible triangle there with the apex at Christ ’ s head , and all the lines of these bodies lead up to it . The point is it ’ s all very carefully thought out ….’ We found this amusing , particularly when we studied Berenson , Gombrich , Levey , Clark and other scholars , and compared their finely articulated insights with Grahame ’ s bumbling commentary . Little did we realise how quietly and cunningly he had motivated us , how his love for these works , his connoisseur ’ s familiarity , had lit a flame inside us that would never go out .
Jonathan and I shared a study in Cook ’ s , edited a humorous magazine together and dreamed of a glorious freewheeling life of art . We hadn ’ t the faintest idea of the world that awaited us beyond Winchester , only a sense that there were infinite opportunities
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