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'A Man For All Seasons'
John Henderson writes,
I first met this man in 1958 when I happened to sit down beside him upstairs
on a Glasgow Corporation bus travelling from Argyle Street in Glasgow to the
Scotstoun area of the city. I, like my other 1st Year class-mates, was
hurrying back at about 10am on a freezing cold winter morning to Jordanhill
College from Cranstounhill Baths to be in time for our Gymnastics' Session
at 10.35am. I soon recognised the person sharing the seat, and was indeed
very surprised that the Head of the College Education Department should be
journeying thus. More surprise followed immediately as 'the great man' said,
"Hello, John ... you played well last Saturday ..... you've certainly been
blessed with a powerful and well-educated right boot!" So we chatted rugby
over the 20 minute trip to the vicinity of the college ... in the course of
which it transpired that Mr Scotland travelled mostly by public transport. I
was too shy to ask him the reason for this ..... but as you will read below
.... such was an important aspect of his study of humanity.
Apart from occasional glimpses of him on the touch-line supporting us at the
college grounds, I had no further direct contact with him, until, in Year 3,
he conducted our twice weekly classes in History of Education . He certainly
brought a potentially dull subject to vibrant life with great humour and
erudition! Although, I must admit that, at this formative stage of my life,
I was not a follower of his extra-curricular drama activities that mainly
focussed on Shakespearian plays!
There was a fair amount of disappointment in summer 1961 when we, who were
returning for post-graduate studies in Education, learned that he had been
promoted to be Principal of Aberdeen College of Education .... but, as a
College 1st team rugby player for the next five years of our bi-annual
visits to the 'Granite City' to play Gordonians and Grammar FPs, I had the
pleasure of occasional chats with him, and opportunities to thank him for
his continuing support of our efforts to join the elite in Scottish rugby.
Of course he was a great friend of our committee men, our former lecturers
at the Scottish School of PE, Jordanhill, George Orr and Bill Dickinson ....
and while we after-match socialised in the 'George Hotel' lounge bar, Mr
Scotland's wife Jean acted dinner hostess to 'Wee George' and 'Dickie' in
the their Aberdeen residence.
My last memory of meeting Mr Scotland was on the morning of Monday 7th
March, 1966, and this was indeed one of the most significant half-hours of
my life. Why?
As a young Lecturer in PE at Glasgow University, ever ambitious, I had
reached the short leet of two interviewees with Andrew Stevenson, Head of PE
at Aberdeen Grammar School, for the post of Principal Lecturer in PE at
Aberdeen College of Education. Mr Scotland, alone, did the interviewing, and
his opening remark certainly put me at ease .... "Congratulations on
reaching your 1000 points for JCRFC last Saturday in Glasgow against
Kelvinside Accies. at Balgray. But, tell me about your disallowed try that
would have clinched the 1000 pts. before you later kicked a goal to clinch
it. From where I was sitting in the grandstand near that corner, I would
have sworn that the referee was wrong." I replied .... "Although the referee
is never wrong .... I certainly did score legitimately .... but ....".
The rest of the interview was not so much about the job in prospect, but
rather what I should do about improving my academic qualifications to match
my professional ones. I soon realised that, although I was not a serious
contender, I was somebody for whom Mr Scotland cared and wanted to counsel
about his future. Finally, he said as 'our chat' came to an end ... "For
this line and status of work, John, you must at least get an ordinary degree
of a university ... without it you will never gain entry to College Higher
Education lecturing, far less principals' jobs."
I took this advice to heart, and, within the next decade, not only gained a
'Distance Learning' Upper 2nd Class Honours in Education and Literature at
the Open University, but also, in 1974, a Lectureship at Moray House College
of Education, Edinburgh.
David Northcroft in the
August 2004 edition of 'Leopard Magazine', writes,
'Jimmy' Scotland played many roles: an authentic urban 'lad o’ pairts', he
emerged from an east-end tenement in Dennistoun, Glasqow, to gain three
First Class Honours degrees, and he latterly became a teacher training
college principal.
James Scotland was the principal of Aberdeen College of Education from 1961
to 1983. During the first half of that tenure he campaigned for the
transference of his institution from its stony downtown site to the open
spaces of Hilton; in the latter years he presided over an establishment
which had, as he had insisted, a theatre at its very centre.
This, however, is only one of the ways in which it is possible to represent
the man. Always a man of the theatre, he was in turn a stand-up comedian,
radio and stage actor, script-writer to the stars, dramatist, producer,
Shakespearean biographer and critic. If the theme that runs through his
richly plotted life was that of public performance, it is important to grasp
the integrity which gave meaning to that concept. For Jimmy Scotland, the
notion that life should be presented as if on a stage went much deeper than
any personal desire towards artful display: it was the very means by which
the individual could engage with others in a disciplined representation of
humanity’s most abiding concerns, a way of converting knowledge, ideas and
emotion into an act of public education.
Born in 1917 in an upstairs apartment in Dennistoun, Jimmy Scotland grew up
surrounded by examples of this belief. Membership of Sydney Place, the
family church at the bottom of the street, and its range of activities, drew
him into the kind of neighbourhood drama club that was a feature of urban
life in interwar years, while his education at the local Whitehill School
involved him in debating and concert appearances. And when he went to the
university over at Gilmorehill, his studies under the distinguished
Shakespearean scholar, Peter Alexander, gave academic structure to a
life-long passion, one that began with a Jordanhill production of A
Midsummer Night’s Dream in 1950 and culminated with The Tempest in Aberdeen
33 years later and which, all that while, was accompanied by the drafting of
the book, Shakespeare, a Personal Memoir, that he looked forward to
completing in the retirement that never came.
The young Jimmy Scotland was first a fan, then a readily adept stage
practitioner. By 1940, while immersed in his Law studies, he was appearing
alongside Dave Willis as ‘Jimmy, the Student Comedian’ in the touring
Bombshell shows raising money for the war effort.
Call-up into the Royal Artillery allowed him to bring his enthusiasms to a
more mixed audience. In May 1945, while serving in Italy, Colonel James
Scotland scripted, acted in and produced Cinderella at the Benevento Opera
House, a show that was announced by the cry, ‘Oh, to be in England now that
Scotland’s here!’
It was an aptitude which he was to refine during his 12 years on the staff
at Jordanhill (1949-61). Winter and summer, the college’s annual pantomime
and Shakespearean weeks would bring the non-theatrical and practised trouper
together in productions that were at once institutional and youthfully
vital.
All this time, James Scotland, Head of the Education Department, was
establishing a second career. As ‘Ronald Emerson’ or ‘Kenneth Little’ he was
one of the most prolific purveyors of comic material to the brightest of the
new postwar talents in Scotland. Whether working alone or in collaboration –
most notably with Alex Mitchell of Parliamo Glasgow fame – the biggest names
of that generation were ready consumers of his material. Among them were
Jimmy Logan, Andy Stewart, Roy Kinnear, Una Maclean, Duncan Macrae, John
Grieve, Beryl Reid, Molly Urquhart and Stanley Baxter.
In this capacity, he was able to join in the last pre-television flowering
of the Glasgow theatre, when post-war audiences still thronged to an array
of pantomime shows at a dozen various venues. Chief among these was the
Citizen’s. Between Clishmaclaver in 1958 and A Beano for Jack in 1965, the
team of Scotland, Mitchell and, for the music, Arthur Blake, forged the
Christmas shows which ensured that the theatre upheld the reputation for
topical wit, for self-aware sentiment and nimble linguistic exuberance – as
well as 13-syllable titles – that had been ushered in by The Tintock Cup of
James Bridie and Stanley Baxter in 1950. And when the Alhambra brought in
its Five Past Eight show, it was Kenneth Little who was the mainstay. During
that time a whole cascade of sketches and musical numbers, under titles like
Hell Caledonia, The Glasca Waltz, Pinto’s Scaretaker, My Fare Lady and The
Cheery Orchard demonstrated his fluency at turning the topical, the
highfalutin, the commercially calculated sentimental and the downright
vulgar, into the stuff of an irrepressible local culture.
He was also adept at the other mass entertainment medium of the age, the
wireless. The essence of his work here lay in the daily scene. Much of his
material was gathered, notebook in hand, on the tram or in the teeming
downtown streets of his native city. Such work was based upon the intimately
observed and acutely overheard daily comedies that lay around him. The
Scottish Home Service became a weekly outlet.
His collaboration with Stanley Baxter resulted in the 1954 series Speedy;
for the up-and-coming Andy Stewart, the domestic adventures of the newly
weds, Jim and Mary, followed a year later. The ability to sustain
recognisable scenarios culminated in the four-year run of 17 Sauchie Street
between 1957 and 61.This was a comic soap opera that involved the ups and
downs of the McGuthrie family as its members cheerily struggled with the
vagaries of life in their tenement home. Through its regular, and prized
6.30 Friday night slot, the doings of this ordinary east-end home and its
two young female lodgers from the country, with creations such as Jessie and
Jennie – ‘the fat yin and the thin yin’ – and Lord McGurk, who had risen to
riches by way of his black pudding factory, became a neighbourly
accompaniment to the lives of tens of thousands of fellow Scots who, like
them, were stuck in the daily round of holding down jobs, of understanding
the younger generation, of social snobberies and neighbourly warmth, all
interspersed with the occasional trip to exotic Aberdeen or off to Rothesay,
as they kept on seeking out the laugh and the warm touch that would pull
them through life’s long haul.
Although his removal to Aberdeen in 1961, and the duties of a college
principal, curtailed such ventures, the new setting also encouraged him into
an eager return to his origins in the amateur theatre. Even during his
professional scripting days, Jimmy Scotland kept his feet upon the common
stage. At Jordanhill he was a leading member of the Torch Theatre Club,
founded by college staff and ex-students to bring ambitiously serious work
to the Glasgow stage. In the absence of suitable Scottish titles, it had
tended to concentrate on the European and the American – Pirandello, T S
Eliot and Thornton Wilder.
Jimmy Scotland determined to refresh its repertoire with a more ethnic
character. In 1954, he wrote A Surgeon for Lucinda, in which he transposed
the situation of Moliere’s L’Amour Medecin to the Tobacco Lords’ rule in
18th century Glasgow. It was quickly taken up by the Citizen’s and given a
run there. This stimulated a series of dramas which showed how Scottish
history, and the pungency of Scots speech, could be exploited to renew the
scenarios of the classical theatre.
The following years saw The Honours of Drumlie, set in a small Lanarkshire
town as it unwillingly awaits the arrival of Prince Charlie’s forces in
1746. Over the years it enjoyed more than 250 performances, including ones
on both radio and television, and was performed by such names as Fulton
Mackay, Hannah Gordon, Roddy Macmillan, Una Maclean and Walter Carr. Other
titles followed: Oh Whistle and I’ll Come to you my Lad, a stage version of
Compton MacKenzie’s Whisky Galore, Baptie’s Lass, The Deacon and The Daurk
Assize.
Each of these works was neatly crafted, crisply written, shrewdly paced and
readily accessible. If these qualities limited the extent to which Jimmy
Scotland was able to play a creative part in the revitalisation of the
Scottish theatre – and thus keep pace with the more innovative work of those
who were to follow such as Liz Lochhead, John Byrne, Bill Bryden and the
7.84 Company – they also satisfied the need of amateur groups for lively,
well made material that acted out human situations within a distinctly
Scottish setting.
It was the Scottish Community Drama Association which was to provide his
most appreciated, home. Founded in 1926 to offer a structure and, through
its regular festivals and competitions, an incentive to the scatterings of
local dramatic groups that were by then covering the whole country, it had
more, by 1950, more than 500 membership groups.
The extent to which he served the SCDA over the next three decades is
demonstrated by its establishment of the commemorative James Scotland Trust
Fund, set up in 1990 in order to provide assistance to emerging young
talent. This was a recognition of the way in which the man had, for year on
year, supplied a series of attractive one-act plays, with topics that ranged
from the impact of the oil exploration on a small Highland community (A
Hundred Thousand Welcomes) to pre-war slum street life (The Girl of the
Golden City), each considerately designed to allow the thoughtful amateur
company to test its skills before appreciative live audiences.
By the end of the 70s, it was reckoned that at any one time a performance of
a James Scotland play would be going on in a village hall or inner city
community centre somewhere across the land. More than that, he had become a
highly popular adjudicator, a genuine enthusiast who was prepared to tour
the country from Kirkwall to Stranraer, bringing to all the local companies
of WRIs, of ex-servicemen, of sewing circles and Transport Union members,
the same wealth of constructive, well balanced and utterly fair minded
criticism.
All this while he maintained his own practical involvement. One of the
earliest steps he took on arriving in Aberdeen was to enlist in June
Gordon’s – Lady Aberdeen’s – Haddo House Choral & Operatic Society. Over the
next 22 years, he was to give it indefatigable service, both as a producer
and actor. In his own institution, he established the public performance of
a work from the canon, most notably Shakespeare, in the College Theatre at
Hilton, as an annual Aberdeen tradition.
It is this achievement which reminds us where, ultimately, the mainspring of
Jimmy Scotland’s lifelong involvement in drama lay. When, in 1969, the
Scottish Education Department architect set the plans for the new campus
before him, he crossed out the reference to ‘assembly hall’ and substituted
‘Theatre’. He then made sure that it was to be equipped to fully
professional standards- ‘three more lights than the London Palladium’ was
the rumour that ran through the city at its opening – and that it was
positioned within what was to be called the Students’ Life Building, with
the refectory as neighbour, the bookshop across the way, the Union above and
the Music Department below.
‘Drama’ was to be built into the very fabric of the place. It was also
integral to its curriculum. When the SED was searching around for the most
productive location for its new Diplomas in Drama and Music, he made sure
that, in 1972, they would come to Aberdeen. Over the next decade he
established a formidable team of tutors, several of whom, such as Charles
Barron, Tom Johnston, George Crossan, Alan Nicol and Annie Inglis have
continued to play a powerful role in the region’s cultural life.
James Scotland, you see, was first and last a teacher: not simply an
educationist or a theatrical, but a teacher. His whole career was driven by
his search for the most effectively human way of involving the next
generation in the ideas, the knowledge and the experiences that best define
our humanity. For him, theatre, and the concept of performance which it
embodied, was both a content and a means. It was the most compelling, the
most versatile, the most truly vital educator society possessed. The theatre
that he lobbied for, and which he designed at Hilton, was his most cherished
expression of what was both a personal pursuit and an educational
philosophy.
The decision by His Majesty’s Theatre to move itself here for the year of
its refitting is a handsome recognition of the scope and the power of Jimmy
Scotland’s conception. It will, however, be a fleeting one. By the end of
2005, when the developers move in and his old college has been moved down
the road to King’s, it will, as a physical entity, have disappeared
completely. Fortunately the plaque which stands on the far wall of its
auditorium, and which commemorates the list of ‘Scotland Productions’ which
were housed within it, will, it is understood, accompany that flitting.
But the final word need not be of memorialisation at all. As an educator
and, through articles such as Shakespeare and the Dominies and Scottish
Education Looks Ahead, in combat with the rooted Presbyterian suspicion of
the theatre as a frivolity and with the nation’s desk-bound academic
culture, he would insist that the theatre’s power lay in the simple coming
together of people and performance, that it was a jointly creative endeavour
that could be shared there and then on the classroom floor. |
