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The Eulogy given by Neil McKerrow (S58-63) at Michael Thornely’s Memorial Service – Sat. 28th November 2009 in Sedbergh School Chapel. 600 attended the Service. We come together this morning to celebrate and give sincere thanks for the life and devoted service of one of Sedbergh’s greatest servants and Headmasters. With Richard’s eloquent tribute to his father five weeks ago still resonating, we rejoice in a truly wonderful life that enriched the careers and formative school years of all who fell under his unique and inspirational tutelage.
Gervase Michael Cobham Thornely quite simply defined the post war success, reputation, and character of Sedbergh. He was the first HM since the 16th Century to be appointed from within the chapter that is Common Room. And from its reincarnation in 1875 as the great public school we recognise today, no other HM has served longer. His record of 35 years service, 21 as Headmaster, is unlikely ever to be equalled. He transformed Sedbergh from bleak post war austerity to a modern, thriving, outward looking educational establishment. Through his inspired leadership Sedbergh maintained its position at the forefront of independent schools.
Michael Thornely arrived in Sedbergh in 1940, aged 22, becoming House Tutor of School House, after a glittering career at Rugby and Trinity Hall, Cambridge, as Organ scholar reading French and Classics.
His first class was the bottom form for history; the term’s syllabus was ‘The World from 3,000 BC to the Synod of Whitby’! He just about managed it, keeping 2 pages ahead of class!! He quickly made his mark as an innovative, even eccentric, teacher of French. Many have written of his impact –
“Unforgettable; to this day, my vintage can still recite French irregular verbs to the tune ‘There is a tavern in the town’. A begowned whirlwind! – enormous fun, slightly mad, and boy did we learn French!”
Cycling into class to a chorus of ‘Bon Jour Monsieur!’- miscreants speaking English were despatched ‘Par la Fenetre’ to run round Powell Hall block, - waste paper baskets were set alight to cries of ‘Allez Les Pompiers!’ – no risk assessments then!
(In later life he not unnaturally considered that a master who could play the fool on purpose was always the sign of a good schoolmaster).
Outside class, doing all the usual refereeing and umpiring, in wind and rain, he was celebrated for his theatrical productions and ability to play the piano masterfully – one who heard him play Chopin’s Revolutionary scherzo in B Minor was converted then and there to classical music for life. What more could you give a young man!
He was an inspirational leader of ‘Dec and Deb’, and at one point mentored a debating group that included a future Lord Chief Justice, Lord Bingham, and distinguished Parliamentarians Sir Giles Shaw and Robert Rhodes James.
He remained forever grateful to JH Bruce Lockhart, whom he regarded as a supremely talented, gifted Headmaster, for the invaluable apprenticeship of what was to come; Bruce Lockhart saw in him a man of the highest ideals and many talents, with extraordinary powers of creating enthusiasm and inspiring boys to quite exceptional standards.
Michael gained a priceless insight into the private world of a Headmaster. He recalled entering the drawing room in School House to find Bruce Lockhart, full of gloom, ‘Thornely I’m terribly worried about this School’. ‘Oh dear sir it seems to me to be going rather well’ responded Michael - ‘that’s just the trouble, nothing’s going wrong!’’ Years later he came to learn the wisdom of that remark.
Michael was naturally adept at subtly influencing outcomes –knowing that Bruce Lockhart could often take a contrary line, on a beautiful whole school day, fells ablaze with sunlight under cloudless skies, he could be heard to sigh in Common Room, but within earshot of the HM, ‘I hope it won’t be an Extra Half today, do so much want to catch up on Latin with Lower 4b’ …the Extra Half he craved was usually granted!
Life was to change profoundly and comprehensively in 1953. He met Jennifer on Riverside touchline, watching her brother play rugby. Soon after their engagement, greatness was thrust upon him. Thoughts of wedding and where to live in Sedbergh were dispelled by the shock news that Bruce Lockhart had announced his retirement, and recommended Michael as his successor. Against a strong short list, (and a grilling from a Professor Semple - ‘You do not seem to have much regard for the beauty of Latin authors and poets if you merely regard Latin as a discipline!’) - Michael was confirmed as new Headmaster shortly before Ten Mile Day in March 1954. Following a term’s sabbatical, he returned to Sedbergh with his new bride of 20 years –almost certainly the youngest couple at the head of any public school at the time.
Michael later observed that it was perhaps salutary that every strong society or community suffers a periodic major explosion, and that a crisis shows where the true men lie. Any tensions within and without common room were overcome by those very qualities which Bruce Lockhart earlier identified - judgement, understanding, moral courage, unswerving loyalty, and the combination of a very ready sense of humour with a power of authority that commanded immediate and complete respect.
He treasured 2 letters received from Headmasters’ as he took post –one said ‘Dear Michael, Don’t worry; it only produces inefficiency.’ The other read – ‘Dear Michael, You will enjoy being a HM very much when everything goes right, - which it never does.’
The Sedbergh Common Room of the time comprised extraordinary talents. All had experienced the impact of one, if not two, world wars in widely differing ways; highly motivated, they were determined to influence future generations for the better.
Assuming responsibilities for School and House, and win the respect of this formidable array of talent cannot have been easy, but win it he did. And he went on to display uncanny skill over the years in selecting younger men for Common Room who not only worked well together, but also found common ground with their older colleagues.
The Sedberghian at the end of his first term commented:
‘The new Headmaster by his liberality of outlook, sympathy and understanding, his sincerity, and sure handling of affairs, won the confidence and warm loyalty of both boys and staff, and inspired a happy confidence in the brightness of Sedbergh’s future”.
At his first Speech day –Michael paid fulsome tribute to his predecessor, and was pleased to report that a small boy writing home to his parents had observed that - ‘the new Head Man is managing ok’ -!
His early philosophy is evergreen-
“To carve a career in the world, where competition is keen, Sedberghians must be able to hold their own in the academic field, and this requires a liberal education.” He reaffirmed his intention of keeping the education at Sedbergh ‘broad based’. In particular, he recognised that boys should go up the side of the school where they would be most successful and therefore most happy…. “character, initiative and a willingness to accept responsibility are of profound significance”. He recognised that the hills around us could give spiritual as well as physical toughness.
The purpose of a privileged education was much discussed by Headmasters of the time, and Michael’s philosophy for Sedbergh contrasted interestingly with his friend Father William Price of Ampleforth who reported that there, they prepared their boys for death –said without a hint of irony!
In correspondence with Father William one term, Michael added a footnote to say that it hadn’t been a great start, they had a boy in the house who was slashing sheets in the dormitories; the return letter from Ampleforth also had a footnote, saying ‘That is unfortunate, but don’t worry, I have a boy who is eating pullovers!’
His sense of humour and mischief were legendary. A formidable prospective mother with a long list of questions asked if the boys had brown bread? Responding that he didn’t think they did have brown bread, and come to think of it, he was almost certain it was a sort of dirty grey –he wondered if they might like to look at another school such as Bryanston perhaps, where he was sure they had all the brown bread they wanted, and what’s more they probably spent 20 minutes in bed each day –“please ask the boys what they think of their dirty grey bread” – of course they returned from their tour, thoroughly hooked!
He was a master of the art of getting colleagues to undertake the unforeseen role, which without a friendly chat they would otherwise never contemplate. Some called it Machiavellian! Gerry Blackwell, editor of the Phoenix, went to his Headmaster to suggest that the literary magazine should be discontinued, - only to emerge half an hour later as editor of an expanded Sedberghian, incorporating the Phoenix! Arts and Crafts deployed the most unlikely members of Common Room in skilled works –Brooke Dowse taking five years to print the Te Deum (well, the rollers were always wet!), and bookbinding under Peter Meadows managing a German dictionary that stopped at the letter G!
Michael was keenly aware that Sedbergh was essentially a sporting school, excelling at rugby, and one of his greatest achievements was in nurturing the Platonic ideal of ‘Music and Gymnastic.’ Even if its very success in the field of sport was apt to dominate, this was no philistine school! Like so many others who have come to love Sedbergh as the unique and different place it is, Michael believed that “there is only real greatness in tradition when it is kept alive, and not worshipped in its tomb.”
Michael’s Sedbergh was vibrant, and the grace notes soared loud and clear in the Dale as Music and the Arts flourished, with great musicians flocking to perform.
If he had the knack of getting the best out of the staff, it was more than matched by his profound influence on the Boys. His dramatic productions over the years were many, but he will perhaps be best remembered for his brilliant Gilbert & Sullivan operas. Nothing was left to chance, every stage position, every prop, every intonation of every line was inspirationally produced. And if one OS confessed that his sole disappointment at school was failure at audition for one of his productions, the Bishop of Durham claims to have learned Episcopal dignity from just such an experience under Michael’s unerring casting of the Mikado.
And so much was fun –congregational practice involved ‘Dec and Can’ singing in parts across the aisles, school prefects teased, Michael at full pitch -all present were aware of a consummate orchestrator and inspirer of men.
Whether it was the aspiring music scholar informally invited to play a piece over a cup of tea, surprised to find the Headmaster accompanying him on piano; or the team captain reporting in to him on return, whatever the hour, to discuss the game over a hot drink; or the errant boy encouraged to go trout fishing, waking up his Headmaster (and his wife!) at 3 am to proudly display a 7lb sea trout, - Michael sowed the golden seed of self-confidence and modest self esteem to believe that one could achieve whatever one aspired to, so long as you gave it your best shot. He encouraged us to go out in the world, and whatever one undertook, to do it to the best of one’s ability, and in so doing achieve works of which most had never dreamed they were capable.
Michael was a natural at public relations, able to diffuse the most difficult confrontations –from angry anglers disturbed by river bathers, to the prospective labour MP speaking outside the Sun, now the Dalesman, hit full square by a rotten apple from an Evans window, to the irate farmer complaining of boys knocking slates off walls.
All fell under the spell of Thornely charm, somewhat aided by beakers of whisky or gin; in the face of a determined statement that the ‘whole school would suffer for such impropriety’, complainants weakened –‘well, I suppose we were all young once’, (very sternly now) - “That may be so, Mr Metcalfe, but youth’s a time to learn some hard lessons –being young once is no excuse!’ - ‘No, no Headmaster, please, don’t take any action, it was only high spirits and really of no consequence!‘
He enjoyed enduring and productive relationships with his Chairmen and governors, in particular Brendan Bracken, the enigmatic, brilliant member of Churchill’s wartime cabinet, 1st Lord of the Admiralty and later chairman of the Financial Times, and the formidable Sir Hamish Blair-Cunynghame, Chairman of RBOS - (when it really was a bank!).
He was a regular visitor to Lord North Street, Bracken’s London residence, and knew his close circle of friends including the American Ambassador, the Queen’s Physician, Churchill’s Private Secretary, and the Chairman of Ford amongst others. Lunches were invariably of Yorkshire ham and Stilton, followed by coffee and superb cognac. He recalled Dr Johnson’s words ‘Of talk, sir, there was plenty, of conversation, none.’
During his watch, public schools, as now, lived under constant threat of interference by a hostile labour government. Michael was instrumental in reconstituting the governing body. The best brains from business and senior university representatives were available to the school as a formidable Board.
During his headship, great progress was made with school facilities – which included new maths, biology and science blocks, a magnificent school Library, endowed by Brendan Bracken and designed by Sir Albert Richardson, President of the Royal Academy, extended swimming pool and chapel, new music school at Guldrey, refurbished boarding houses, new Art School and Project centre for Technology and Crafts- a relentless capital programme, part funded by a successful appeal he himself led, and the product of much careful planning and close partnership with Colonel Tim Bain Smith and Victor Collison, distinguished Bursars of the time.
The Library called for all his powers of diplomacy – mahogany wood for the panelling arrived, stained with a mixture of what looked like mulligatawny soup and black treacle. Informing Bracken that it was a dark chocolaty colour and was this what he had in mind, he received a note by return “ If you think Sedbergh School is to have a library which resembles a third class smoking saloon on the Lusitania, you are gravely mistaken.” Back to the drawing board!
His many friendships were greatly aided by the warmth of family life in School House with Jennifer and their four talented children, where music, on baby grand pianos, hospitality and conversation flourished. Their special friendship with Donald Coggan, Archbishop of York and governor led to an early invitation to preach on the occasion of the School’s 450th anniversary. ‘Oh no, I’ll be in my retirement cottage in Knaresboro’ by then!’ ‘I don’t believe so’ said M, ‘I think you’ll be at Canterbury!’ –‘Well then, York, Knaresboro’ or Canterbury –I’ll be there!!’ –And indeed, keen supporter and friend of Sedbergh, he was there – and as Archbishop of Canterbury!
Governors’ Meetings could be unpredictable, and the stories are legion. Michael never forgot a proposal to reduce the number of evening chapels, nearly derailed by an off-hand remark from a governor, that fewer sermons were perhaps no bad thing –when loud banging erupted from the far end of the library, - the Archbishop spoke – ‘You make a very great mistake, if I may say so. The ministry of the spoken word is one of the most important manifestations of the Christian doctrine.’ A terrible silence ensued.
The 1960’s ended uneasily as a time of student unrest. Many schools conceded to calls to scrap uniform, ban compulsory chapel and even sports. Michael’s firm refusal to cave in under pressure gave Sedbergh breathing space, and allowed liberal and progressive changes to be made later in a climate of cooperation, but with the ethos of Sedbergh preserved.
His resolve found expression one notable Speech Day in this remarkable extract from Edmund Burke:
‘Because half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make a field ring with their importunate chink, whilst thousands of great cattle, Reposed beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the noise are the only inhabitants of the field; though many in number, loud and troublesome, they are but insects of the hour”.
In difficult times, he showed immense courage. Great public nervousness greeted the arrival of drugs; parents lived in fear their children would experiment For six boys found to have returned with a suspicious substance, there was no alternative to the ultimate penalty of expulsion. A traumatic day of phone calls, anguished parental pleas, transfers to alternative schools, culminated in a special school assembly in Powell Hall, heard in pin silence. Exiting the stage through the side door, pretty ‘done in’, as he put it, he was confronted by a solemn Head of School with all the School Prefects ranged behind him
“Sir” he said, “we the School Prefects are taking you back to your study; we are going to boil you up a strong cup of tea and you are going to stop worrying” - it had been the worst day of his career, that in later life he could scarce bear to recall, but a quite wonderful way to end it. This episode, more than words, conveys the depth of affection and esteem in which the boys held their head, though these less happy times still took their toll.
Michael Thornely will be universally remembered with warmest affection for developing a happy community in which each felt respect for his neighbour; he superbly reconciled the twin demands of balancing order with freedom. He faithfully upheld ‘godliness and good learning’, with real concern for courtesy in all human relationships. His belief in service to community was sincere, and he encouraged giving rather than taking, not getting the best job, but doing the best job.
Accessibility, wisdom, humour and fun, cooperation, concern for the individual, a progressive approach while honouring tradition, such qualities are the mark of a great Headmaster of Sedbergh, a community, school and environment he genuinely loved.
He valued beyond price his involvement with ‘the lights of their world in their several generations.’ As he told parents ‘it would be to these that the nation must in due course turn for spiritual and moral leadership”, and with what pride may he look down now and survey the achievements of generations of Sedberghians who passed his way and fell under his spell. And from his final resting place below Chapel, looking out across the Cricket Field and up to Winder, I have no doubt that he will continue to take pride in the present and future generations of Sedberghians.
Throughout his time, he was sustained by the happiest of home life, and a wonderful partner, wife and mother in Jennifer, whose musical talents, kindness and warmth of welcome touched so many of us, as boys, staff, governors and parents. He retired in 1975, appropriately on the 450th anniversary of the school, leaving it in the strongest of hearts, and with 450 boys!
Living locally, he was blessed with many happy years indulging his passion for music, literature, fishing, astrology, photography, teaching himself, amongst other things, maths –which he claimed to never understand, computing, clockmaking and much more besides.
But perhaps his greatest satisfactions derived from meeting OSS and hearing of their doings, chin characteristically thrust forward, penetrating gaze, all attention, and full of insight, wisdom, kindliness and encouragement.
In Michael’s favourite Shakespearian work, Hamlet’s best friend Horatio says of Hamlet’s late father ‘He was a goodly king’, to which Hamlet replies ‘He was a man. Take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again’. As we give thanks for the inestimable lifetime contribution of Michael Thornely to the success of Sedbergh, may we as Sedberghians echo these words as we remember ‘Our goodly King’ – one of Sedbergh’s very greatest “ He was a man. Take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again”.
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