St. Mary’s Forebank, Dundee. 1950’s.

Mr. Creegan.

If teaching was all about faithfully following a prescribed curriculum, expounding the 3 R’s, and maintaining a strict 9 till 4 Time Table, then Mr. Creegan had unfortunately got it all wrong. If, on the other hand, teaching is considered a means of propagating fertile minds, broadening horizons, and motivating people to achieve their ultimate potential (Whatever background and brains they have been blessed with), then Mr. Creegan was, and would still be considered to this day, a man ahead of his time. His roots, being firmly imbedded in the community in which he lived (worked, worshiped, and played), gave him not only a unique understanding of his pupils psyche, but also the assumed responsibility for their development - Mr. Creegan walked to St. Mary’s and back every day, just like the rest of us, only considerably faster.

But listen!!, words are all very well, but what lies behind these assertions?
If you can indulge, I will relate some personal reflections of the times and the man – You can make up your own mind.

The Big Fight.
Two policemen came to the class one day looking for me – It was around St. Patrick’s Day, and as most of you will know, for some reason, at that time of year we had to fight Protestants. I had been identified on a ‘raid’ on Ann Street School by a bright yellow scarf given to me by my big brother (Damn!!). Now, why I wanted to go and pick a fight with the likes of Harry and Neil Leadingham I’ll never know, they were a lot tougher than me for a start (Went on to become successful Businessmen by the way). But ‘Scotch & Irish’ was something you just got caught up in – I remember hundreds of people in the streets – Police horses keeping us apart – Split heads – Hospital cases – Even my wife (at that time a wee Prodie from Rosebank School) said she was scared to go out at that time in case she was eaten alive by Catholics. Anyway, Mr. Creegan persuaded the Policemen to let him deal with it (They didn’t even take my name), and to show retribution gave me ‘six of the best’ – Twice!! In front of them. All honours satisfied (Such a belting achieved a lot of kudos), the matter was concluded? Well not quite, and here’s the stroke of astuteness – To save me from the peer pressure of further involvement, he decided to walk home with me until the ‘Festivities’ petered out. This was a big bonus though, because not only did I get fitter trying to keep up with him, but I also got extra stories!!

The Stories.
We all did everything we could to get Mr. Creegan into his ‘Story’ mode. Thinking we had some influence over the matter, we would say “Go on Sir, tell us about the war Sir – Tell us about so and so Sir”. But only when he was good and ready (psychologists today would say that he was mindful of our attention span), he would hold us in awe with a never-ending array of stories, anecdotes, and life experiences. Mind you, thinking about it now, they all had a moral point and a lesson to be learned – Like the one about the soldier who gave up his ticket on the train to the poor old lady who had lost hers, then pulled the old toilet trick. As you can imagine, being very young, of limited means, and with our horizons extending only to the top of the Hilltown, these stories considerably extended our view of the world and it’s ways.

The School Trips.
I would suspect that Mr. Creegan not only contributed a lot of his own time and effort into these trips, but also some of his own funds. It was a day out where cost wouldn’t be an obstacle to participation. We took our daily milk ration on the coach with us (those little bottles), together with sandwiches for lunch, and Fish Suppers were provide from a passing Chip Shop on the way back. Every time a likely field was spotted on route, it was all out for a game of football. The trip that sticks in my mind most was the Christmas Ice Spectacular at Murrayfield in Edinburgh, and our visit to that big covered carnival next to Waverly Station.

The Election
Although he never expressed any political views, I’ve a feeling that Mr. Creegan was involved in Politics in some way or another – Possibly the Labour Party. Anyway, if that was the case – I didn’t half let him down!! All the paraphernalia was set in motion for a class election mirroring the national model (candidates, hustings, ballot boxes, etc.). There were two candidates, Conservative (I think his name was Roddy McMillan) and Labour (Yours Truly). Now, being a popular guy myself and having Laurie Ireland for a running mate, how could I lose? The trouble was, I was up against a professional, aided and funded by his father (Just like the real thing), our Conservative put up posters around the school, and presented a polished speech promising everything (Usual). After a second recount suggested by Mr. Creegan (He wasn’t going to give up) Labour lost by one vote. This exercise taught me two things in life: - Everyone doesn’t support the Football Team – Never vote for your opponent.

The School Plays.
“I need you anyway,” said Mr. Creegan before I had a chance to fluff my audition for the school play “ Your in!!” Well, I thought, he obviously recognises talent, this could be my career. As it turned out, I was the tallest in the class (By far), and he needed an undertaker for the last scene – My one and only line went something like - “I’ve come for the body”. “You’ll need a hat” he said, “Can you get hold of one?” – “No problem,” says I. However, I will never forget the look on Mr. Creegan’s face, in the wings on the opening night when, upon asking me to put on my undertakers hat, I proudly donned my Brother-in-Law’s working bonnet. Ok! I didn’t know the difference between a hat and a bonnet, but I still think delivering the lines “I’ve come for the body” wearing the bonnet instead of the hastily arranged Janitor’s Cap would have got a better laugh. Produced, directed, and painfully rehearsed by Mr. Creegan, these plays were entertainment for everyone, but hard work for him.

The ‘Black Babies’.
In those days (I’ve probably got this wrong) you could adopt a ‘Black Baby’ for a penny and give it your name. Consequently, Africa must now be bulging with well-nourished sixty something year olds with names from Mr. Creegan’s class (A good few Patricks anyway, because that’s where all my sweetie money went). It’s not that we were overly generous by nature, more that Mr. Creegan had ‘Means’ of extracting every last bit of pocket money, bus fare, lucky penny, we could muster to the cause. The target would always be just ahead of the total, with the last pennies being squeezed from individuals to rapturous applause. Hey! It’s what they do today in Call Centres, and on Sales Drives – ‘Children in Need’ even. Now, we may all have been a good bit poorer after one of these sessions, but we didn’t half feel righteous.

The Football.

Why did the ‘Forebank’ dominate Dundee Schools Football so much in those days? Simple – We had an excellent Director, Manager, Coach, Administrator, Scout, and Tactician. They were all Mr. Creegan, but we also had one or two decent players. Could it have been a freak of nature that one school should produce so many talented footballers? At my time in the team alone Laurie Ireland, Raymond McKinnon, Michael Quinn, Billy McGann, Tom Clink, Jimmy Brown, Robert Connelly, Billy McCluskey, and Joe Flight also played for Dundee School Boys. Most of these boys then became predominant in Secondary Schools football, and together with the likes of Jimmy Gabriel, and Jackie McEnerny, went on to play Junior football for St. Joseph’s - A team founded by Mr. Creegan himself (I think his son Jerry also played). Although in at the start of St. Joseph’s, I switched to athletics early on, but I still remember the stench of that changing hut at Fairmuir Park, and half of us on the field playing with one foot bare, training to utilise both to best advantage.

So, there you have it, maybe not exactly the ‘Prime of Mr. James Creegan’, but then the Forebank wasn’t as prestigious as the Marcia Blaine School for Girls, and we certainly were not the ‘Crème de la Crème’ (Football Team apart). However, we all know that history sometimes blends people and circumstances together, producing a unique sequence in time when things just fit perfectly into place, and this is a case in point. "Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life" says Miss Jean Brodie. Mr. Creegan was certainly not that manipulative, but I’m sure, like me, his many pupils still retain elements of his teaching that have helped them through life.

Thanks Mr Creegan, on behalf of us all.


MISS FARRINGTON.



Miss Farrington was a real targer. She had a simple logic as far as discipline was concerned – The punishment should fit the crime. Kenny Ward, flexing his developing cockiness, made the grave mistake of swearing at her one time. Grabbed by the scruff of the neck, he was dragged to the wash area (a lot of little sinks lined up outside the class) where she proceeded to ‘Wash his mouth out’. Although we didn’t actually see anything, the gargling, spluttering, screaming, sounds reverberating around the tiled walls, painted a picture of poor Kenny’s plight, continually struggling to avoid swallowing the soap. However, despite his undying promises never to swear ever again, Kenny’s sanitised language soon lapsed back into the vernacular. But that wasn’t the end of it!! Things kicked off again the next morning when Kenny’s mother arrived for a remonstration. Tough Jute Wifey as she was, she was no match for our intrepid teacher, and considered herself fortunate to skulk away muttering retribution, without getting a good mouth washing herself.

Anyway, the tables turned somewhat a few months later, when, returning from a visit of convenience, Miss Farrington took up her playground patrol duties with the back of her skirt tucked into her bloomers. Everything looked demure and proper from the front, but from the back it was like two midgets fighting in a pink parachute. Being followed around the playground by a group of sniggering waifs, she couldn’t understand what was going on until Mr. Creegan dispelled the pack with a stern look that wasn’t entirely genuine, and had a quiet word in her ear.
(Kenny Ward is on the right in the back row of the photo above, I'm in the centre of third row).

Brother Kenny

Although rarely appreciated at the time, certain incidents in ones very formative years, which have such a profound influence on later life, are invariably connected with school and teachers. In this respect I will always be grateful that my first teetering steps on the meandering path of life crossed that of Brother Kenny.

The man had many attributes, and no doubt other people who fell within his sphere can relate additional facets of his extraordinary character. However, for me it had three main ingredients – Even-handedness, fortitude, and (maybe surprising to some) musical talent.

Herewith an example of each of the aforementioned: -

“Who would like to learn to play the Clarinet?” asked Brother Kenny upon entering Miss Farrington’s class. “Me Brother!!!! Me…Me… Me.” accompanied the chorus of waving hands. In those days the pupils sat in a strict packing order, the brainiest front right, descending to the dumbest back left (you can guess where I was), so it wasn’t surprising when the selection of the six ‘starters’ commenced from the prime positions. Only one left to choose - Brother Kenny’s eyes searched the back – “You can’t do anything else Murray, you may as well have a go at this”. Now, I was never a great musician but I did lead that field, and started out in a career as an Army Bandsman.

Bullying wasn’t necessarily rife in the school, but Freddie Morlong did his best, he was one of the ‘Qualies’ - they were big guys left over because they couldn’t qualify for the secondary school (in fact I ended up one myself). Unfortunately (for him) Freddie took a fancy to me one day in the playground, got on top of me (ok he took me by surprise!!), and proceeded to give me a good tanking. Then suddenly he disappeared!!! Brother Kenny had lifted him right into the air, and not initially realising the situation, Freddie began to retaliate, big mistake, although smaller and lighter Brother Kenny proceeded to give him the hiding of his life. Freddie did ask me in Church the next day (after no doubt confessing to hitting a Priest) if I’d like to have another ‘go’, but with little prospect of Brother Kenny coming to my rescue again, I respectfully declined.

Grant Duguid and myself approached Brother Kenny one day with our Clarinets (Pupils of Mr. Elder by the way), we were unable to find the music to a certain Hymn that we’d been asked to play, he took a piece of blank paper, and whilst humming the tune, proceeded to write down the music. I must admit, I’ve seen it done since, but that was by top musicians at the Royal Military School of Music.

A truly remarkable, devout man - Administrator, Teacher, Scholar, Musician, Sportsman, Big Bad Bully Beater, but above all, a Gentleman.

(Kenny Ward back left this time - Grant Duguid middle, sixth from left - Me, middle, third from left)