...start next Sunday
On my second “observation” visit to services at St Andrew’s Anglican Church Mayfield in September 1946, I was asked to see the rector Canon Withycombe. Meeting him in the vestry, I was greeted with: “Here’s the key to come and practise; start next Sunday”.
My piano teacher Alva Green (organist at St Paul’s Stockton) was amazed when she was told of the appointment as I had not said anything to her about applying for the position. However her delight was tinged with doubt, as she felt that at just 15 I was too young to be accepted as organist at one of Newcastle’s main churches.
All went well on the first Sunday till after the evening service. While playing the postlude, I could hear plodding footsteps up the stairs into the organ loft. An elderly member of the church council put me through an “inquisition” on how the organ worked. He had passed the ranks of pipes and various mechanisms to reach the console. Evidently satisfied with my explanations, he ambled off back down the stairs muttering: “Seems to know his job, but I say he’s too young, too young…”
Use the Oboe stop!
I will never forget the first wedding I played for a week later. Somehow a woman “well under the weather” had found her way to the organ during the “prelude” music. She stood beside me and kept calling: “Use the Oboe stop!” At one stage she started pushing and pulling stops as I played, so I reached out and smacked her hand with “don’t touch!”.
As was the custom in those days, there was a soloist to sing during the signing of the register. The organist would be handed the music just beforehand for accompaniment to be played “at sight”. In this particular case the music was full of massive chords in both hands but the copy presented was so old and tattered that it had to be held up with one hand while as much of the accompaniment as possible was played with other hand. Through all this the drunken woman kept calling “Use the Oboe stop!”
After the service the singer “went to town” in declaring what a “dreadful” organist I was. Naturally I was upset but Canon Withycombe said: “Don’t worry; you did very well in the circumstances.”
Trams didn't start till 7am on holidays...
On Christmas Day there was an extra service at 6am but the trams didn’t start till 7am on holidays. The rector was concerned about how I would get to church from Hamilton as I didn’t have a bike and my folks didn’t have a car. He was surprised when told that I would walk, as it was only half-an-hour via back streets.
After the early service I was invited over to the rectory (large two-storey Victorian building, now private residence) for breakfast in the dining room. The rector’s wife had prepared a “banquet” that would outdo the breakfast service in a five-star hotel. This was quite embarrassing as I normally had just a big bowl of cereal. Already “full” after the cereal and couple rounds of freshly-made toast, I just couldn’t “look” at the bacon, eggs and tomato Mrs Withycombe wanted to cook.
Despite his gruff demeanour, Canon Withycombe was a very kind and appreciative “boss”. The next year he retired at a “great” age.
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