Lt Col John Downton (Teacher and Housemaster 1947-75)
Address given at his Memorial Service at Holy Trinity, Elgin
on Thursday 24 June 2004
I was deeply touched to be asked to speak on this occasion of celebration and thanksgiving for life of John Downton: but first of all, I'm certain I speak for us all when I offer our sympathy to Annette, to Jack, to Camilla and all the family and to their close friends in their loss. Our hearts do indeed go out to you: our loss is great; yours is so much greater.
However advanced in years, when the moment comes it is a great shock: someone whom one knew and loved is gone: there is a huge gap which can never be filled – and yet it is the Christian assurance that John lives on and his huge potential is somehow brought to fulfillment in the loving presence of God Himself.
For me personally I was saddened that I was away abroad when he died, but I was reassured by the memory of a recent very happy visit paid to Abbeyvale: perhaps this is the moment to put on record our appreciation of all the care John and Annette have received at Abbeyvale and of what John himself described as the "wonderful series of carers" who provided support at Granary and helped him to cope in very difficult circumstances. In all this, the ministries, both ordained and lay of the church he loved so much, sustained him and enlivened him: in addition to the great courage John displayed during his last days, it was wonderful to see his sense of humour never left him: nor his great interest in the welfare of others; I remember we had quite a laugh about the fact that there was only one piece of scandal that I was able to tell him that he didn't already know about.
John, of course, was always extraordinarily well organised: so much so that he asked me some five years ago if I would speak at his funeral: I could only reply that I would do so on one condition: that if I went first would he do the same for me: sadly John has "won the great race" (as St Paul puts it): I know he would have done a far better job than I: those of you who knew that side of this deeply talented man will agree that he always had the ability to convey exactly what everyone was thinking with a combination of modesty, lightness of touch, and sheer common sense that few others can attain to.
So here I am fulfilling a role with a deep sense of gratitude yet with a measure of reluctance: how can I do justice to the life of a man, whom, admittedly I had known for some 36 years, but in a way, due to that very modesty, I knew so little about? Of course I can't! But this is where you come in! There are those here who have known him much longer, those who lived closely with him in the family sense, those who knew and loved him as husband, father, father-in-law, grandfather uncle: old friends of long standing, professional colleagues from his varied career who will each have their own picture of John: please think about that picture now and let us make a combined offering of thanks for John's life: please fill in the large gaps for yourself and help me fill out my own picture of him.
But first a little history: what were the experiences which made John the powerful force for good and moulded this creative and generous spirit?
Born in Norfolk in 1914, John was educated at St John's Leatherhead, and then at Queen's College, Cambridge. He considered Ordination to the Priesthood and did a spell at Lincoln Theological College, changed his mind and entered the Probation Service. Eventually he was called up to the Army and was commissioned in the Royal Norfolk Regiment in 1941.
He was enjoying life with the 7th Battalion in 1943 when he received a summons to go to Whitehall for an interview – with, as it turned out, Lord Rowallan of Scouting fame – this was the start of a chain of events which, in the long run, lead to his appointment to Gordonstoun. In the immediate future he was to take part in the establishment of a very special Battle School called the Highland Fieldcraft Training Centre. Those of you present today, who are old enough to have to have done National Service will have been familiar with the workings of WOSB (the War Office Selection Board for potential Officers). If you went through that mill, you will never have forgotten it: you will be aware too that a great many young men failed the test but some, at least, were allowed a second shot.
John's particular assignment, under Lord Rowallan and a certain Chief Instructor called Bobby Chew, was to ensure that they had a better second chance as a result of incredibly tough training based at Glenfeshie and later at Poolewe.
What John didn't know at the time was the Adventure Training provided had been set up as the result of consultation with an unusual educationist by the name of Kurt Hahn.
John was to spend 18 months at HFTC – by Army standards this is a long time and shows recognition of just how well he carried out this arduous and relentless assignment: it made a lasting impression on him and, after the War, when an Association was formed for those who had instructed and been through the courses at HFTC, John himself became deeply involved. Only last year (in May 2003) he gave a fascinating address at the Reunion Dinner at Kingussie on the 60th Anniversary of the Association.
I have spent quite a time telling you about John's involvement in this work because it meant so much to him and in a sense prepared him for what was to follow: he was not only deeply impressed by Lord Rowallan's Christian outlook and high standards but he also unknowingly commended himself to those who were re-establishing Gordonstoun School after the turmoil of its evacuation to Wales. No surprise then that he was offered a job at Gordonstoun to teach Mathematics and – although he soon dropped it – Chemistry. Incidentally, John also taught what we used to call Scripture during my time as Chaplain for which I was profoundly grateful: you just knew John would be steady and reliable and enthusiastic.
Well before my time, John had established himself in series of responsibilities as a Housemaster: his career mirrored the development of the school at that formative moment: first at Laverock Bank, then for nine years at Altyre when the School was functioning in two different locations; then, on the amalgamation in 1960, he took over at Hopeman Lodge.
Surprisingly Brereton's book on the School only refers to John's contribution in that last position at Hopeman; John's biggest contribution (and the one for which he received the OBE) was surely in the area where he felt most at home: I refer, of course to the CCF: this enabled John to remain in the army for a further 28 years – a fact he was immensely proud of – and he must have gained great satisfaction from the fact that this connection was sustained first by Jack with 27 years service in the Royal Marines, and lately by granddaughter Anna commissioned in the Royal Artillery.
It was in 1968 that, as the newly arrived School Chaplain, I first encountered John myself. I was lucky in that I found his deep sense of Christian commitment was shared by others: Henry Brereton, of course, but also Angus Macknight, Godfrey Burchardt and a young James Fitzgibbon to mention but four. But, for all this, starting as Chaplain wasn't easy and it took me quite a time to grow into the job and who do you think spotted this and took the trouble to seek me out and quietly offer encouragement?
Note: I didn't go to him, he came to me. I understand it is just this sort of initiative which has proved so valuable in recent years here at Holy Trinity. Canon Mark tells me that John made a huge contribution to the life of the Parish in helping to weld together, as a visitor, the diverse aspects of a congregation spread over both town and country.
What he did for the church he also did in school. I know for a fact that there were not only pupils who were immensely grateful for his expert Maths coaching but staff as well, whom he helped to cope with the intricacies of what was then called the New Maths.
I soon found what a wonderfully well organised person John was. If he was Chairman of a committee it went like clockwork: we were kept to the point and John's great common sense and tact always speeded things along. In later years, I inherited the Presidency of the Common Room from him – I think between us we covered nearly half a century in this role – and I know well the demands made on him. Here a helping hand for a new member of staff, here liaison required with the Headmaster, there a farewell speech or a function to be organised: such things came naturally to John and were, to us on the receiving end – both staff and pupils alike – just as naturally "right" and "good" as the superb addresses he gave both in Chapel and in the Michael Kirk.
For my final little vignette of this great life which we celebrate today, I can't resist a lighter touch – an event which caused John some amusement when I reminded him of it recently:
You see at that time, in the late 60's he was the chief organiser of an event which took a very different form from what it would today. Today, Schools have Open Days – then we had a General Services Parade complete with inspection by a VIP and that year the distinguished guest was to be none other than the great air ace Douglas Bade. Naturally John was pretty concerned that things would go smoothly. I felt rather complimented and understood him perfectly, when John, who knew that I had a little military experience myself asked if I would I like to "walk through" the forthcoming procedure with him. This I gladly did, although I privately thought this completely unnecessary as I knew he was such an excellent organiser, the boys I knew would rise to the occasion, and above all the weather had been perfect sunshine for the past three weeks.
Well, of course you can guess what happened: with five minutes to go, as the VIP was arriving flanked by the CO of RNAS Lossie and other dignitaries, the Heavens opened and washed out the entire parade with the single exception of Douglas Bader who seemed determined that something should happen. Five minutes of rapid thought by the Headmaster produced the idea that the most appropriate solution would be a demonstration by the Fire Service Unit: appropriate it would seem because a little more water being sprayed around would hardly be out of place. The only problem from my point of view was that as I was in charge of the said Unit, I, along with Colonel Downton, would have to conduct the Great Man up to the Fire Station, a distance of nearly half a mile. There was just no way he would accept a lift, he was determined to walk. How he managed on the waterlogged surface on his two metal legs I shall never know – but what I do know was that by the time we arrived my knowledge of the English Language was considerably enlarged by a wide range of expletives. Whether this was aimed at me, or the weather or just at his physical agony I'm not sure – perhaps it just kept him going. At the end, as far as I recall, he stumped off down the drive again with John in tow, with further grumpy comments leaving the impression that the School and everything to do with it was pretty much the pits!
When I reminded John of this, he smiled and said in a low voice: "I didn't like Bader". Notice, no detraction of Bader's amazing achievements – just that he plainly wasn't John's cup of tea; not surprising really and yet there is an instructive comparison here and an amusing sequel for me personally.
There are parallels: both men showed enormous resilience in dealing with physical handicap: Bader lost his legs, John rose equally to the challenge when he lost his sight; both men had crystal clear sets of values: but where one was brash and outspoken, the other was courteous and thoughtful; on the other hand, where Bader had a distinctly "cherchez la femme" reputation, John, where the pupils in his care were concerned could not have been more different: as a family, we have often had a little smile about the fact that when, in the early 70's, the CCF was opened up to girls, John initially had but one applicant: she was our eldest daughter Caroline and she enjoyed every moment of it not least the exercises on Dallas moor: but there was just one thing she was less than delighted about: the fact that each night she had to be collected from her slit trench and taken home to be returned early next morning in case the attentions of her fellow cadets became more than she could cope with! Such were the early days of co-education at Gordonstoun! We may smile a little now, but it was these foundations of mutual respect and pastoral care which contributed so much to the success of co-education at Gordonstoun.
Such then are just a few personal insights into the character of this wonderful man: now I shall come back to where I started. I hope my thoughts may have helped a little to trigger your recollections of him and to help you to hold him in your thoughts. I would like to end by asking you to do that quietly for just a few moments: to hold our personal memories up to God in thanksgiving. Then I shall finish by reading some words John himself wrote about Lord Rowallan, and which, as you will hear, albeit unconsciously, sum up his own wonderful life so well:
A moment for reflection..........
"Here was a man's man, a fine gentleman, a proved soldier, and a convinced and sincere Christian. His personal standards were high, and he expected the same from those around him. He saw the best potential in everyone; he had great belief in youth, and his enthusiasm and humour were infectious. His aim was to inculcate self-reliance and independence as the foundation of leadership and his methods were rooted and grounded in the deep Christian principles of honesty, integrity and feeling for one's fellow-men".
May he rest in Peace. Amen.
Anthony Montgomery