Brentwood College School - Brentonian Yearbook (Mill Bay, British Columbia Canada)

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Brentwood ' s Quarter Century 1986 marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of the re-founding of Brentwood College on its present site at Mill Bay. As a tribute to those who have contributed to the life of the school, and, in particular, to honour the vision and indomitable spirit of the first headmaster of this era, David Mackenzie, and his late wife, Joyce, we have assembled a potpourri of memories from the years 1961-1976. VALETE Long service at Brentwood College brings many rewards, but I regard it as a singular honour to be asked by the Editor of The Brentonian to write the Valete for David Mackenzie. Pleasant though it is, the task is not without difficulty. Where on earth am I to start with a man whose interests are so numerous and varied? Obviously with Brentwood College, for 1 am sure that David would regard this as the greatest achievement of his life. Although Brentwood College was founded 54 years ago, the School, as we know it, is largely a creation of David Mackenzie ' s. When, in the late 1950 ' s he had the idea of starting a school, it was a lucky accident that there existed a group of Old Boys of an establishment that had burned down in 1948. They supplied a ready-made Old Boys ' Society, and, by and large, the original Board of Governors. They would be the first to admit, however, that the new school bears little relation to the old, and, enthusiastic as has been their support, the school exists largely because of one man. Just as Brentwood College under David Mackenize was different from the old school, so, 1 feel, will it never be quite the same again. 1976 marks the end of an era, the ' Mackenzie Headmastership. ' Although the school was changed enormously in the last 15 years, it has always borne ' the Mackenzie stamp. ' Hard as this is to define, I shall attempt to do so. Anyone who has met David Mackenzie must be impressed by the incredible enthusiasm of the man. Sometimes this has led to ' boyish excess ' and to what the Staff has felt is a monopoly of his time by his latest craze. How often has a Staff member found it impossible to see David on some urgent business, because this was the time set aside for playing in the School band, of jogging. And yet, in retrospect, he was the most accessible of Headmasters because he loved the Common Room, and its banter He obviously regretted the move from the old M.C.R., next to his study, to the new premises some 70 yards away. How often has the Staff sought to find out what was the School philosophy, but David would not be pinned down. Looking back, I now realize one of David ' s greatest strengths was his ability to improvise. But it frequently was harrowing to be involved with some major policy change, such as going Co-Ed, where the nitty-gritty detail had been ignored. How often has the Staff read some memo of the impending arrival of some new boy who was ' a terrific athlete, very musical and bright ' only to meet some ill-co-ordinated, tone-deaf Neanderthal. Only a man with this sort of enthusiasm could have had the audacity to start a school, and then to build it to its present stage of development where it is among the best schools in Canada. Who but an enthusiast could have taken the site of the old Solarium and hewn, literally, lawns, gardens and playing fields out of the wilderness? Who but an enthusiast could see good in the worst of boys, and, in the early days, we certainly had more than our fair share of rogues. I find this trait particularly hard to comprehend, as I feel much more affinity with WC. Fields ' comment that ' someone who hates children can ' t be all bad. ' Who but an enthusiast would have had the good sense to gather about himself the amiable group of lunatics that made up the Staff in the early days, and inspired them with his own hopes? This, I believe, was David ' s greatest gift. He managed to persuade people to teach inspirationally, often in conditions that were far from ideal, and to devote themselves, body and soul, to Brentwood. Nostalgia isn ' t what it used to be, I know, and our present Staff is professional and dedicated. Nevertheless, there is a bond between the Staff of the first five or so years that makes ' newcomers ' different. We hear them talk of the length of their Duty days, and smile, for we worked from 7:00 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. They mention the frequency of Duty days, and we smile, for we stood Duty every three days. A not unusual day for us was classes until 3:30 p.m., Rugby 3:30 to 5:30, a quick bit of food. Staff vs. Boys Basketball, and then rehearsals until 11:00 p.m. for the Sutdent Staff concert. We were young, we had energy, we were athletic (we boasted the best Staff Rugby Seven in the world) and we were few, which meant we knew each other intimately. And long as our hours were, we knew David ' s were longer Energetic as we were, he was more so. Good athletes as we were, he was better. As an Olympic athlete, and International Rugby player, David had obvious physical advantages over the rest of us. Yet he encouraged all to become involved. He wanted excellence, but he also wanted participation. He was, of course, delighted when, after years of

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The Brentonian Brentwood College School Mill Bay British Columbia

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David and Joyce Mackenzie . playing the 3rd XV ' s of other Independent schools, the 1st XV finally won a game. He was naturally delirious when we won the Independent Schools ' and B.C. Championships. But he was, I suspect, almost as pleased when we put out 12 different XV ' s on the same day. Basketball, softball, tennis, soccer, snowball fights, sledge runs down the driveway, skating on the frozen tennis courts — it didn ' t matter what it was, David was there. His recent interest in jogging has led those of us with weaker wills to marvel as he has braved the elements. His philsophy is ' Mens sana in corpore sano ' and he practises what he preaches. I realize I am in danger of painting a picture of a man that is just too good to be true — a sort of cross between Mr. Arnold of Rugby and Lord Baden-Powell. I mean this remark cynically, with a typical 20th century scorn of ' do-gooders, ' but I suspect David would be flattered with the comparison. He is, essentially a ' Victorian gentleman. ' In an age of relaxed morals, he often surprised us when his Calvinist streak showed through. Years of naval service meant he had a broad outlook not often found in Scottish Presbyterians, but he could be genuinely shocked and deeply hurt by some of the actions of the students. Some of the Staff concert sketches left him embarrassed. It is again typical of him that his idea of a good school concert bore many of the marks of a camp-fire song. The most esoteric productions of Gil Bunch (and which of his productions is not esoteric?) David just did not understand. He smiled politely, applauded enthusiastically, realized he was watching something very good, but wondered why Gil could not put on some ' fun ' thing like ' Charlie ' s Aunt. ' For years we could set off a heated argument by suggesting in David ' s hearing that Gil put on a production of Gilbert and Sullivan. As usual, David had the laugh, for, since the arrival of John Queen, we have had biennial performance of G. and S. These musical tastes are again typical. I have an abiding memory of David, sitting on a log, playing his accordion, and leading a sing-song of students and villagers on Mill Bay Day. The School Band was his passion, and he was never happier than when playing the trombone, or tuba, in some military march, or selection from some Broadway show. Again his middle-brow tastes proved correct, for they reflected the preferences of most of the audience. If I appear to have painted a paragon of virtue, I must admit that David has one vice. He is a thief, and what he steals are some of my better lines. How often have I sat through Speech Day to hear one of my jokes attributed to, of all people, a parent. I can, however, forgive him, as he is the best audience I have ever had. He laughs at all my stories, bad, good and indifferent. As the Rev. Sydney Smith said, ' It requires a surgical operation to get a joke well into a Scotch understanding. Their only idea of wit is laughing immoderately at stated intervals. ' As David was essentially a Victorian, so did he have their universality of interests. It is impossible to deal adequatley with fifteen years in an article such as this. I could write a book. A few random thoughts, however, spring to mind. David, happy at having passed his