Our new term began on Tuesday and we look forward to an exciting few weeks as we grapple with the admissions procedure for September 2011. Entrance Exams take place next week, with approximately 1,000 candidates to accommodate at 10, 11 and 13 plus. However, I wanted my first blog of the new year to deal with the sad news about one of our former Headmasters, Mr Bass. Below I have included an article which will appear in next week’s Citizen.
It was with great sadness that we recently heard of the death of Mr Bryan Bass, (Headmaster 1990-95) , on 23rd December 2010. He had been fighting cancer for many years, but was cheerful and resilient to the end. He was 77. His funeral at All Saints Church in Fulham was attended by a large number of present and former members of staff from CLS and was a fine tribute to a great man. His portrait (which he never liked) hangs in the Great Hall- perhaps you might look at it the next time you are there. He is standing, sternly and some might say menacingly, in front of the Tate Modern. He often gave the impression of being fierce and formidable – especially in assemblies, but he was a man of great sensitivity, learning and compassion, as Terry Heard comments below in the eulogy which he delivered at the funeral:
“My friendship with Bryan started in November 1988, when I was Second Master of the City of London School and he was a candidate for the Head Mastership. The occasion was a lunch for the short listed applicants so that they could see the school and meet some of the staff before the formal interviews. He stood out from the rest, both because he was about ten years older than the average, but more significantly for his friendly,straightforward manner and shrewd observations. Here was a man of wide experience, already the successful Head Master of Hymer’s College in Hull. Bryan later said that he did not really expect to get the London job, but thought it would be interesting to have a go. So he came with nothing to prove, but plenty to offer.
"He duly took up his post in September 1990, and immediately made an impact. A month later, at his first Lord Mayor’s Prize Day, he spoke of finding in London ‘an underlying and pervasive energy, a determination, restless in the best sense of the word, to seek out means of success and improvement …’ and continued ‘It is this same vigour which I find to be the essence of our school which lies at the heart of the City …’. He imbibed this energy, and changes soon came. I’ll mention just two of the many improvements made during Bryan’s five years at CLS.
"Though the school had moved to splendid new premises in 1986, it had not kept pace with the computing revolution, and lacked adequate IT provision both for education and for administration. Bryan saw that this was a major problem, and after much discussion went wholeheartedly for the large scale solution of networking and servicing the whole school. He persuaded the Governors to back this plan, and then fought doggedly to obtain the necessary funding of about £¼ million from the Corporation of London. The computer, however, was not Bryan’s personal forte. I remember that when the suppliers were appointed they suggested that the Head Master might like a computer in advance to try. This duly arrived in his office and he played with it for about half an hour. Then it sat there undisturbed for the rest of the term, eyed enviously by me, until, after a little nudging, he suggested that it might be more useful in my office.
"Another achievement which delighted Bryan was setting up the John Carpenter Bookshop, named after the school’s founder to mark the 550th anniversary of his death. This was entirely Bryan’s idea, based on something similar he had known as Head of the Modern Side at Manchester Grammar School. Luckily there was an ideal place for it, near the main entrance, in an under-used and murky space intended for sixth form coats. The old boys’ and parents’ associations contributed both funding and design expertise, and boy volunteers enjoy running it under the supervision of a professional manager. It serves all the components of the CLS family: boys, staff and parents. And it makes a small profit! In every way this was a brilliant innovation.
"Bryan’s style was traditional, the school master rather than the CEO of CLS plc. He loved to wander round the school and drop into lessons unannounced. Sometimes, perhaps when there was an urgent summons from Guildhall, his invaluable secretary Janet Eason would put her head round my office door: “Is he here?” “No.” “Oh dear, he’s gone walkabout again – Guildhall will have to wait.” But for his colleagues he always had time to spare. A visit to his study would often produce not just wise advice about the matter in hand but also a wide-ranging chat, including amusing recollections told against himself with no consideration of rank or position. It was a typical touch that in his first year his cameo performance in the staff pantomime was as the caretaker sweeping up the debris after the high jinks.
"Bryan was a fine musician, an accomplished actor and director, and had played both rugby and cricket at a high level. All these skills and interests were shown in his practical encouragement of the school’s many voluntary activities – very different from his own school days, of which he said “anything that was not forbidden was compulsory”. He particularly enjoyed singing in the choir, and was delighted when Richard Edwards composed for him the orchestral “Variations on a Head Master”, the theme being the notes B,G,B,A,S,S. His talent as a cook was put to good use too: no Summer Fair was complete without the challenge of guessing the weight of a magnificent Head Master’s Cake.
"Bryan was a man of complete integrity and deep humanity. This was evident in what he said at school assemblies, particularly those at the end of term which can be so tricky to handle. He had the knack of speaking directly and sincerely about what one of his predecessors called “the intangibles”; his natural moral authority could make nearly 900 boys, eager for the holidays, pause to think about their ideals and responsibilities. He was quick to forgive anyone who did not come up to his high standards, but he never shunned saying what he thought. When necessary his acting skill could play a part in heightening his natural indignation: once, after a suitably chastened malefactor had retreated from the study with lip trembling, Bryan asked me with a wry smile “Was that a bit much?” Parents too, however eminent, would get some pretty straight talking if they tried special pleading or weasel words. Of course this directness did not always go down well, but most agreed with the father of a prospective pupil who said to me: “I shall be happy to have that man take care of my son.”
"We are grateful to have known Bryan as a fine man, a devoted husband, father and grandfather, an excellent Head Master and a much treasured friend.”