The New CWC swimming pool was due to open on the 3rd March 2018. As a former Leinster dual swimming silver medalist - I’m trying to pawn off to my boys George (Syntax) and Patrick (Grammar) that I have a special invite but the truth is all parents of current pupils are invited. The opening is postponed as the Storm “Beast of the East” strikes and CWC sends all boys who can go home - home. On the drive home I casually ask the boys what they think of the new state of the art pool - I am horrified to hear the answer “Dad the new pool is no fun - in the old pool we can wrestle, mess and hang out - the new pool is just for serious swimming”.............youth is wasted on the young....we would have killed for a pool like this in 1973.
It is the 4th September 73 - summer is over and CWC opens its doors for our 2nd year experience. A massive change Mr O’Keefe is no longer our Prefect he has been replaced by a bearded scholastic Mr O’Riordan......he is smaller and doesn’t invoke the fear that Mr O’K did. Rules are relaxed or is it that we are now veterans of the system. Bounds are no longer enforced - it seems we can go anywhere - and we are allowed into Clane, freedom beckons.
On the academic front - I am particularly relieved, I have been re-assigned from Latin into Spanish class. A shot at redemption.......I seize it with both arms.....Spanish becomes my favorite subject.......I just can’t let this opportunity pass me by.....there is a joy and sense of accomplishment in learning......it feels good. On my Halloween exams I get my first 2 placecards (having been light years away from any academic achievement in Rudiments) 2nd in Spanish (the Editor is fluent so no contest) and 2nd in Ray Lawlor’s French.........a life lesson.....love what you do and/or do what you love......the recipe for success.
We are provided with a set of new Board games and a new wreck room. There is Monopoly, Battleships, Chess and an unknown game of RISK.......Gucks becomes an addict and word spreads that the best entertainment during evening break 8-9pm is to watch Gucks at Risk.........his expletives are the bluest of the blue and blasphemy reigns when the dice goes against him! Live theater at its’ finest.
This is the year that the ESB Unions decide to go on strike for better pay for their workers. CWC doesn’t have its’ own generator and “blackouts” reign. We can’t believe our luck - study periods in the evening are wiped out. We are free to roam and use the excuse that we couldn’t finish our homework. Bliss for the average student, a category that I fitted into comfortably. Torches were the currency of the day and everyone somehow scrounged, begged or stole them - they were now essential hardware for CWC power cut imperiled students.
On the Sporting Front - none of our U14’s are called up to join the elite - those who will represent the school in the Leinster Schools Rugby JCT Competition. The school apparently have a good Team for the first time in many years and are fancied to go far under Percy Winder SJ & Vinny Murray - disaster strikes in the form of a 16 points to 6 defeat against Mary's.
Our under 14 Soccer Team trained initially by Barney Cullen our Geography Teacher begins to make some progress, but Barney is waylaid by a broken ankle. Vinny Murray steps in. We win a couple of matches and progress smoothly to the semi-final which is held in Newbridge College a neutral ground. We are up against Bono’s school “Mount Temple”......we are not a soccer school.....but against all the odds and coached brilliantly by Vinny, we squeeze into the Leinster Schools Final section A. The Final is held at Tolka Park - the home of Bohemians......we are living our First Division Hero’s life-style. I learn 2 life-lessons - the pain of getting dropped - which I was for the Final, Wally and myself are demoted to subs. I get on for the 2nd half - Vinny insists that I have to turn the game around.....I play well.....I’m the best dribbler in CWC but to no avail, we lose 2-0. The dressing room hurts, Mike, Eoin, Gerry, Johnny, Doggo, Greg......all of us are hurting....what could have been........a Loser’s medal is a huge achievement for a non-soccer school but it wasn’t enough. Another Life Lesson - Sometimes - “almost isn’t enough”.
Jake Brennan SJ - Rector of the school takes it upon himself to get to know each and every one of us. He decides that he will speak Mano a Mano to all individuals in Grammar/Syntax. He is also likely to be around every corner - 2 incidents - where fellow students were caught unawares. 1. Tigger was heard telling a joke and Jake after the punchline is delivered exclaims to our assembled group “what makes an O’Beirne joke even better is a few FUXXX’s thrown in” 2. An unfortunate year member was caught with the latest edition of “Hustler or Penthouse”, which were being rented out by an enterprising CWC Grammar Student who is now a prominent Financier/Banker. Jake enquired “how would you like to see your mother like this!” Not only did the unfortunate student have the embarrassment of Jake’s talking down - he had to cough up a Fiver (a King’s ransom in 1974)- to replace the confiscated Magazine.........
We all dread Jake Brennan’s five minutes, probably well intentioned questions about how we are getting on, what would we like to get from CWC, what profession do we think we would like to aspire to..........all too heavy for young adolescents trying to survive the CWC experience. The dreaded day arrives Jake joins Michael Dolan and myself for Tea - Dolan somehow escapes and I’m left about to be interrogated......thankfully its’ 5.50pm........saved by the Bell as I protest I really need to get ready for Study. Jake says he will catch up with me again........not if I can help it.......he never did!
Boarding school had its’ upsides and downsides as does life. There were dreaded classes where you learned to hide and/or at least diminish the odds of getting scrutinized. Ben Sherry’s Chemistry class was probably the ultimate Machiavellian theatre of fear for those not blessed with an aptitude for Science. Ben had the amazing ability of bestowing the Grandest Titles on those who had the least ability. So for example Professor - the highest accolade was placed on the shoulders of only a handful of non geniuses - currently one of Ireland’s leading Medical Practitioners, and another Senior Counsel who shall remain nameless, fitted this title. You all know where you stood with Ben. I was in the middle category and bestowed with the title Dr Fitzpatrick. The real brains were the Mr category. Two other things that Ben consistently did was to (I) reward students with his jellybeans/sweets and (2) make us answer as a Group to his beat......to show we were awake. In relation to the latter hard to describe in writing.......you had to be there....he would knock out a beat on his desk and we would answer with our feet!
We all had our favorite classes, mine were languages but of all I lived for PE/Sports with Vinny Murray - generally it was my time to excel - while I languished in the bottom of Physics and Maths - this made up for it as some of the Geeks just hated PE - justice at last. Just behind PE was English - I was gratefully demoted from Gerry Lynch’s English 1 to English 2. It was bliss Bertie Brereton SJ was a true Gentleman and Scholar. He encouraged his students to love the language - he suggested that we did “freelance” - unheard of in any other class. I couldn’t grasp what he was suggesting - that I should do “extra homework for the love of it”.......madness! By term 2 - I had bought in - I could write about my favorite topics “George Best, Manchester United, horse-racing”.......he would read it and mark it. Berties class was so far away from Ben Sherry’s Theatre of Fear, that arguably the Pendulum had swung too far........there was no control.......it was laissez faire.........surprisingly I occasionally wished for a bit of discipline. Ray Lawlor’s French class was probably the right mix enough discipline but no fear.
The CWC shop was legendary - the only retail store in History - which lost more money than Mugabe’s Zimbabwe. The shop was run by Oggy Doggy SJ with a handful of Poetry Helpers. If you had the right connection with the Helper - your 10 shillings could yield far more bounty than it paid for. Ultimately Mr Crabtree took over the shop and dispensed with both Oggy Doggy and his Helpers - returning the premises to Profit within a day. The system had caught up!
Lunch queues were another of Grammar’s abiding memories. In order to facilitate the orderly doling out of lunch to 350 students, Oggy Doggy would summon Grammar classes for lunch 5 mins early, as part of a staggered system between the year groups. Despite much protestation from Oggy Doggy as he roared “walk please” - an absolute stampede would break out with Sambo Shields (who had never run for a rugby ball), Gucks, Country, Freddy all of us sprinting for the line.......another life lesson, if everyone is breaking the law, you best be there first.
Young Adolescents are full of testosterone and unfortunately one of the side effects was the number of fights (Claims) that broke out. Conor McGregor would have been at home in some of those claims - they always gathered an audience and were part of the growing up process. I personally partook in a couple of minor events and my opponents know who they are. The Big Claims are legendary - and consigned to the archive of life’s experience at school. The major participants in these crowd drawing duels were probably Burns, Healy, Waldron C, Hoban, Tempany........apologies to participants who aren’t remembered. In some ways the Jesuits turned their backs, possibly in an enlightened way. Similar to the story Warren Garland tells about the ALL BLACKS famous coach Alex “Grizz” Wylie - who almost encouraged/facilitated the younger players in attempting to take the established players’ seats at the Back of the Team Bus. Perhaps another life lesson you had to know how to take care of yourself!
Corporal punishment still had 2 years to run until the new era of Fogarty/Shiels dispensed with it. Our Poetry Study Prefects could write “Cheques” which we had to exchange with either the HeadMaster Fr. Crowe SJ or one of the Scholastics/Brothers such as O’Riordan or Br Ward. In essence depending on the offense committed, 2, 4 or 6 hits with the Pandy Bat could be ordered. It was only when I became a prefect in Poetry myself that I understood the value of such a deterrent system. That said - King Carrot (Niall King our Prefect) could be unreasonable and write a cheque at will. Barney Cullen kicked me out of Geography class and unfortunately I ran into an eager HeadMaster who gave me 4 of the best and returned me to class. Our Spanish Teacher, my grand-uncle “The Raz” carried his Pandy Bat with him for ease of use. That said his more favored method of discipline was a knuckle to the head. This I experienced on a couple of occasions and definitely agree a Pandy strike to the hand was preferable. My three boys one of whom finished CWC last June - see these implements of torture only in the CWC museum and it is with a misplaced sense of almost pride that I can tell my boys that we were the last pupils in CWC who experienced Corporal Punishment.
That is all for now as we await Sunday’s big game Leinster v Saracens - another installment “Syntax 1974/5” is a mere month away as I continue on the theme of Born in 1960 - made in CWC.
Contributed by Francis Fitzpatrick OC'78
The opinions expressed in our published works are those of the author(s) and do not reflect the opinions of Clongowes 1978 or its Editor.
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