St Joseph's Society
A BAD START
Being inappropriately dressed can be very embarrassing. Picture the scene: Everyone else seems to know that formal attire should be worn, but you have arrived in informal wear.
My first day at Upholland left me in a dilemma of that kind. I had been sent the wrong list of clothes to bring, which didn’t take account of the fact that as a First Year Philosopher (I’d never even heard of them!) I should wear clerical dress! So I arrived without the necessary cassock (worn all day every day by Philosophy students at that time), clerical collar, surplice and biretta. This looked like a problem not just for a few hours on that first day, but for every day as far as the eye could see. There was no going home or shopping for the next four months!
Fortunately, a young man – Leo Burke, to whom I am for ever grateful – came to my rescue. I knew him slightly – his family lived in the next parish to my family’s parish. He had been at Upholland a couple of years already and had acquired a second cassock (fortunately we were about the same size), a second collar, a second surplice, and a second biretta, all of which he kindly lent me for that first term.
My blushes were spared. But to those in the know there was an added irony: My uncle was one of the main suppliers of clerical attire to the college and could have fixed me up with everything I needed – if only we had known!
COLLEGE CELEBRATIONS
“Church students throw their Prefect of Studies into the College lake”
The headline seems incredible, but the circumstances were unique. 1953 was the year of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation and the unusual mood of celebration came upon the students at Upholland College. They were not allowed home and there was no television, so how would they celebrate?
A football match seemed like a good idea, between the “Phils” (studying Philosophy) and the “Divs” (studying Theology). The referee was none other than the renowned scripture scholar, who was also Prefect of Studies at the College at the time, Fr Alexander Jones. I can’t remember the score, nor any controversial decisions that would make the referee the object of more than the usual opprobrium, but it just seemed a good idea at the time to round off the celebration by depositing the Prefect of Studies – with, let it be said, his good humoured cooperation – into the nearby lake! So, hoisted on high, the world famous future editor of the Jerusalem Bible was tipped into the massive font.
Well how else would you celebrate such a national event as a royal coronation if you couldn’t leave the College premises to express your joy?
PRIZE DAY
Archbishop Downey was Archbishop of Liverpool from 1928 to 1953. He was renowned as an accomplished public speaker, but towards the end of his 25 years in office he found it difficult to say anything new on each festive occasion. In schools and colleges around the archdiocese, for instance, he had a speech for Prize Day which began: “I have given prizes for many things in my time. I once gave a prize to a girl for being the youngest pupil in her school: she could legitimately say that in fair competition she had beaten many pupils who were older than her!”
(Pause for laughter.)
Came the day when one of what were known as “Common Room Concerts” (given by senior students for the senior students) took place on the day before the formal Prize Day at the College, at which the archbishop was to be the principal guest and speaker. At the aforesaid concert one of the Liverpool students, dressed as an archbishop, gave an address. It began “I have given prizes for many things in my time. I once gave a prize to a girl for being the youngest pupil in the school…” Those of the audience who had been around a few years heartily enjoyed the – gentle and respectful take-off. But the climax came on the following day, when less experienced students gasped in wonder as the archbishop began his presentation speech: “I have given prizes for many things in my time. I once gave a prize to a girl for being the youngest pupil in the school…” The open-mouthed applause which followed was not just in appreciation of a well-crafted speech, but also in admiration of the oratorical magic of the speaker who had shown such prescience the day before.