As my colleague Frank McDonald reported recently, a 14-year-old student at Blackrock College, David Watchorn, is campaiging to have the school's Jubilee Hall preserved. It is scheduled to be demolished and replaced by a "new, more functional centre".
The hall, which was completed in 1914 to mark the college's 60th anniversary, has fine architectural features, including mullioned old English gothic-style windows, sweeping granite steps and "toothpick" battlements.
Whatever about the architectural merits of the structure, the place holds many memories for me, and for that reason I would like to see it preserved.
Noisy parrot
Back in the 1950s, just outside the front door of the building, there used to be a big, noisy parrot in a cage. One of the priests had brought it back from the missions. The bird was quite an attraction and liked to entertain. Some days it was in chatty form and we got a few words out of it; other times you couldn't get a moan out of it. Eventually, the powers that be got rid of the poor creature as the students had taught it too many "F" words. The unfortunate bird disappeared one night, never to be seen again. He was taken out as cleanly as a Mafia hit.
Every Christmas a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta was staged in the hall. This was a gig that every boy wanted to get a part in. If you were in the cast, you got off class to rehearse for the week before curtain up. The lucky guys also got buns and lemonade at a special party when it was all over. The only drawback was that you had to dress up in girls' dresses and put on make-up, something that was a bit of a downer for us macho blokes. The director of operations of all things musical was Father Corless, who eventually got the nickname Bing (after the one and only Mr Crosby). Bing was a decent man, but unfortunately I didn't impress him at the audition. He told me gently that my voice was not quite up to operetta standard and suggested I look a bit further afield for stardom, preferably far away from the world of music. I was deflated, but with the resilience of youth I made a quick recovery.
All the big exams were held in the Jubilee Hall. The fine timber floor must be suffering from rising damp from all the sweat and tears that seeped into it over the decades. The best of "cog" systems were in operation in that hall. Some were rumbled but many were never detected by the eagle eyes of the supervisors. We also used to get our big pep talks there. We would be reminded that we were being trained to go out into the big outside world to act as responsible citizens, to bring pride to ourselves, our parents and our college. I used to sit there earnestly wondering what lay ahead. Would I become a success "out there"? Would I be the only failure, while everyone else was going on to be a source of pride to their parents and to their college? God, the doubts, the terrible doubts, sitting in that old Jubilee Hall. The uncertainty of the future used have beads of sweat standing out on my young forehead.
Adult world
How would I fare in the adult world? Would I be able to survive in the rat race? It was a pretty hostile adult world back in the 1950s, with little prospects for anyone, regardless of what parents or the college could do for us. How were we going to make our parents and the college proud of our endeavours? So many questions plague your mind when you are young. . .
Underneath the building was the bicycle shed and the table tennis area. We used to park our bicycles there every morning and sign in. If you arrived late the roll book was gone and you were in big trouble. It was like clocking into a factory.
Outside was the athletics area, where the sports were held every summer. Proud parents would come along to see how their son would do in the 100-yards dash or the relay. One of the highlights used to be musical chairs for fathers. One year an over-enthusiastic father got his leg broken. The man had grabbed a chair, but another ruthless parent pulled it out from under him and there was a horrible crack. No fool like an old fool. . .but I suppose fathers are really just big boys anyway and never really grow up.
The tennis courts were also in this area. It was great to get out after school and try to reach the courts before slower colleagues to grab a court for an hour. I can still smell the freshly cut grass.
Admirable courage
I admire the courage of young Mr Watchorn in taking on the college authorities and trying to save the building from destruction. He must be a very driven young man. I don't think it could have happened in my day. We were far too docile and the age of protest had not arrived. We did what we were told. Campaigning for change was not part of the educational package. In fact, if you rocked the boat you would be on your way home with a letter to present to your parents. He has been writing letters to An Taisce, the Irish Georgian Society and Dun Laoghaire/Rathdown County Council in an effort to engage their interest in saving the Jubilee Hall, which is not at present listed for preservation.
This is a story I will watch with great sentimental interest.