Shawnigan Lake School - Yearbook (Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia Canada)

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In the Royal Canadian Navy, by the latest count, we have four captains, three commanders, and four lieutenant-commanders — it won ' t be long, says the Treasurer, his face lighting up with unholy joy, before he can write an abusive dunning letter to a Rear-Admiral. Captains O. Robertson (1917-19) and C. P. Nixon (1926-33) and Commander J. R. Doull (1929-32), are at N.S.H.Q. in Ottawa; Captain M. G. Stirling commands the training base at Cornwallis, N.S.; Captain P. E. Haddon is Chief of Staff in Esquimalt. Commander A. C. Campbell, after a NATO job in London, has a staff appointment in Halifax, and Lieut. -Commanders R. B. Hayward (1931-37) and A. H. M. Slater (1937-39) are both in ships based on that port. Commander R. H. Leir (193540) and Lieut.-Commander (E) J. O. Aitkens (1938-99) are both in the United Kingdom; and Lieut.-Commander J. R. H. Ley (1933-41) is Staff Officer Communica- tions in Hamilton, Ont. Before we leave the Senior Service, mention might be made of an exciting book, Gunboat 658, in which the wartime efforts of three Old Boys are warmly praised by an R.N.V.R. officer who served with them. T. E. Ladner (1928-31), J. D. Maitland (1928-30) and C. Burke (1930-32) all made an outstanding contribution to the guerilla warfare of small fast naval ships in the Mediterranean, and all earned the D.S.C. This is a book for every O ' .d Boy to read and take pride in the exploits of the Three Musketeers from the School. Stebbins Rohrback (1948-52) is at college in Tacoma and hopes to have a degree in history, and a teaching certificate by the end of 1957. Graham Anderson (194042) is taking a B.A. and has ambitions to teach at Shawnigan in a vear or so. F. L. A. Elmaleh (1948-53) is at Menloe College and J. E. Berg (1951-53) at Stanford. There is now a large number of Shawnigan Old Boys at U.B.C.. These include John Madden, Barry Drysdale, Victor Allen, Bob Harman, Bob Simson, David Read, Tam Robertson, Gerald McGavin, Tucker Battle, Hugh Mowat, Brian McGavin, Farrell Boyce, John Roaf, Robert McKechnie, John Armstrong, Sam Perry, Colin Kyles and Geoff Smith. John Burr (1946-50) has just graduated in Medicine. Playing on U.B.C. rugger sides are Gerald McGavin and his brother Brian, Sam Perry, Tucker Battle and Geoff Smith. Michael Kaye is at Victoria College, while his brother John continues at McGill. Last winter John played rugger for McGill and won his letter. Derek Brooks has passed into his second year at H.M.C.S. Venture, the Naval Training College at Esquimalt, and is being joined this year by Colin Crisp. T. A. London (1949-52) has completed his course at Royal Roads and is at R.M.C. R. O. Edwards (1952-53) is with the Royal Bank in Vancouver and W. J. Liaskas (1952-53) with Western Steel-Reinforcing. In the Academic sphere special mention should be made of John Strathdee (1942-52), who was a Gold Medalist in his final year at McGill University, with 1st Class Honours in Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. He also won a Morse Travelling Scholarship, which takes him to the Cavendish Laboratories at Cambridge. We have news of two Old Boys who, in 1938 and in 1940, wrote from the school and won scholarships to the California Institute of Technology. Dr. Allen Bell (1934-38) is practising medicine in Pensacola, Florida; and Dr. Maurice Rattray (193740) is a Professor of Oceonography at the University of Washington and is considered the leading authority on the Pacific Coast. John Gale (1942-43), who is with the Toronto Star, visited the school during the summer when he was in the West covering Marilyn Bell ' s swim. Wishing to report a blow by blow account, he swam the entire distance alongside her; John was always very conscientious in the performance of his duties. John Pearkes has been called to the Bar in Vancouver, where he will practice. Graham Anderson has distinguished himself as a Cadet in the University Naval Training Division at U.B.C. He recently received an award for being the outstanding Cadet of the third year students under training. Lyman Louis graduated from the University of Washington in Business Administration last June and has been commissioned in the U.S. Air Force. John Louis, in September, entered the University of Washington, where he is to major in Law. Old Boys with sons at the school this year are Fraser Mcintosh, Bruce Robertson, Bob Douglas, Jack Larsen, Bob Malkin, Gordon Best, Doug Macrae, Harry Housser, Phil Haddon and Corny Burke. Sons of Old Boys who are themselves now Old Boys are Peter Olsen (Bruce), Stephen and Foster Knight (Edward), Ewing Larsen (Pat), John Roaf (Bill) and Colin Crisp (Fred). Page Twenty-Three

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Naivete — September, 1956 LAKE ' S HOUSE C. B. Culter R. W. Murdoch W.J.Locke P.D.Ryall H. T. Mould GROVE ' S HOUSE M. J. M. Beddall G. T. Hogarth A. W. Riddle A. G. Best B. M. F. Housser C. A. Russ M.Burke T.A.Lyons L.F.Shaw G. G. Foster G. K. Macrae RIPLEY ' S HOUSE C. J. Gould J. E. G. Taylor G. P. J. Haddon A. G. S. Archbold M. McAvity J.F.Angus I. H. Munro E. Cotter COPEMAN HOUSE M. C. Beardsell J.C.Long J. P. Carmichael D. A. Powell Williams J. M. Creighton D. J. Russell L. W. Devane B. T. Sharp R. H. Johnson R. R. Waters ti ft ti Jld d oui J rioted We were chewing the cud of a ten-cent cigar, moodily trying to find a resounding phrase to open the annual edition of Old Boys ' Notes, when manna fell from Heaven in the shape of a bulky package sent by Ramsay Milne (1932-39), now a partner in a Vancouver firm of CA. ' s. In it was an old S.L.S. exercise book marked Old Boys ' Club and containing more or less of a cash record of Old Boys ' subscriptions and Club expenditures from 1929 to 1944. At once we were fishing in a lake of reminiscence and may perhaps devote a paragraph to some of the catch. Inflation, of course, struck the eye at once — the $25.00 Old Boys ' chair for Big School was $10.00 in 1929, and in that halcyon time magazines could be mailed to subscribers for two, repetition two, cents apiece. In the face of strong protests by the present Treasurer of the Old Boys ' Society, who said it would give a totally misleading impression, we may not disclose the 1929 annual subscription rate; but in revenge we extract from November 1930 a debit entry Interest — shown in error on credit side — 25c and can safely say, that ' s not the last of that tribe. In May, 1932, a Kiplingesque air is imported to the record by Tryon I (1917-23) paying his subscription in Rupees; in February, 1933, there is the solemn entry of a cash shortage — $2.00. In November, 1938, we find Adhesive plaster (Old Boys ' Rugger Match) — $1.00, a caption which conjures up a lurid picture of a moaning defeated rabble of Old Boy casualties. However, it so happens that we witnessed that game, in which a remarkably active team of Old Boys (several of whose names are, alas, on the War Memorial plaque) not only beat the school 8-6 but were all on their feet at the end of the second half. We suspect that the buck for the band-aids was a deadpan jest by the late C. W. Lonsdale, swallowed by a new and junior Treasurer in awe of the great man. Well, back to current news of Old Boys. The Rev. M. C. W. Piddington (1945-47) is Anglican priest at Split Lake Mission in northern Alberta, whither he has taken his bride of this summer. He writes, We are very happy up here at this Indian village. I spent four months here last year, but it still seems very new work. Having quite a time with the language. I preached my first Cree sermon a week ago. Michael Bellm (1948-50), who has been working pretty damned hard took three months in England and France this summer; brother David Bellm (1948-52) went travelling in Mexico and is now on a cattle ranch at Milk River, Alberta. Another Old Boy recently moved to Alberta is Marco Gandossi (1936-42), Comptroller for Woodward Stores in Edmonton. Our President, Ken Hanson (1943-47), is with T.C.A. in Vancouver, and took his holidays this year in Trinidad, where he reports the cost of living is 85c a bottle. Ian McPherson (1935-39), Law Dept., C.N.R., Montreal, sent along a contribution for the plaque for dear old Skrimmy who taught me at an early age that there was no money in poetry. Page Twenty-Two

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There must be numerous other Old Boys whose activities merit record, but who are not mentioned due to a lack of information. Please let us know what you are doing by dropping a note to Derek L. Johnston, our Treasurer, or to Ned Larsen, our representative at the school. MARRIAGES Paddington-Douglas — On June 9, 1956, at St. Olave ' s Church, Toronto; Michael Piddington (194547) to Patricia Ann, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. N. S. Douglas of Toronto. Coates-Crispin — On June 22, 1956, Barry Coates (1948-54) to Dawn Louise Crispin of Vancouver. Patrick-Peterson — On October 6, 1956, Archie Patrick (1948-51) to Nora Lee Peterson in the University Congregational Church, Seattle. BIRTHS To Mr. and Mrs. Ned Larsen on January 24, 1956, a daughter, Brenda Fraser. ft ft cJLiteraru S eclit THE LAST PREDICTION The last dim outlines of twilight had long since become invisible behind the black gloom of night as I wearily plunged through a tangled mass of underbrush which clutched my arms and legs as it viciously whipped my face. Icy sheets of rain lashed my body, drenching me to the skin and the air of dark despair was further intensified by the strong breeze which whistled a mournful tune. A cold shiver of hopelessness slowly ran down my spine. I ' m really good and lost this time, I announced to the surrounding forest. What an idiotic moron I was to try fishing on a day like this. This Fort St. James area is so wild there probably isn ' t a human being within thirty miles. Why in heaven ' s name did I have to get separated from the rest of the party ? I blew into my numb hands, shifting my fishing basket onto my left shoulder, and plunged into a maze of willows that confronted me and announced the proximity of a stream. Grimly I thrust my way through the dripping tangle of Nature ' s barb-wire, dragging my decrepit fishing rod behind me. Without warning the ground beneath my feet gave away ! I fell down the face of a cliff, a deluge of sand and rocks accompanying me. In vain I clutched at a spruce sapling as I bounded and rolled down the precipice. My right shoulder was ripped open by a jagged rock just before I plunged into the icy waters of a mountain stream. The roaring creek grabbed my numb body and hurled me downstream as I struggled desperately to keep my head above the water. With agonizing speed my strength left me and it was with profound relief that I felt my foot scrape a sandy bottom after what were probably the ten most exhausting minutes of my life. I staggered up onto a beach and collapsed. I awoke to the unpleasant sensation of a sharp stabbing pain shooting relentlessly up and down my injured arm and the firm conviction that during the night someone had bored a large hole through my aching head. At first all awareness of my sorry plight evaded me but eventually with sickening suddenness it dawned on me that I was lying helpless beside a mountain creek somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Cautiously I opened my eyes that smarted from the unaccustomed glare and surveyed mv new surroundings. I blinked with disbelief and then stared incredulously at the scene that met my gaze. I was on a bunk in a neat log cabin with a rough hewn roof slanting upwards above my head. The sight that made me gasp with astonishment was the figure of an old man sitting beside my bed, eyeing me with grave concern. If it had been the devil himself I doubt that my surprise could have been greater. He had a short, straggly beard of white hair that partially covered a livid scar which ran from his left ear to his pointed chin. Out of his fat wrinkled cheeks there protruded a long hooked nose that reminded me strongly of Cassius ' prominent member. His gnarled hands, which rested upon the edge of my bed, twitched nervously and his long white fingers entwined themselves into fantastic knots. His eyes, however, were what arrested my gaze. They were a curious light blue, from the depths of which seemed to flame an amazing combination of emotions. In them burned fire, knowledge, and suspicion. In short he had eyes from which shone the magnificence of a demigod. For what seemed an epoch he said nothing, eyeing me with critical apprehension. Finally he aroused himself from his reverie with an effort, and said, in a deep grating voice, How are you feeling, lad ? Wh - - - Wh - - - Where am I ? I stammered, feeling both uncomfortable and stupid beside this forceful being. Page Twenty-Four