John Hervey Randolph (1898-1975)
In 1922 two young men from Oxford joined the staff: the one tall and thin of face and frame, the other the reverse. Almost inevitably they became ‘Long Bun’ and ‘Dough Bun’; it is the latter whose memory is honoured here. ‘John Hervey Randolph’ announced the Blue Book for forty-five years, but he was Jack to his family and a few intimates; and Dough Bun softened to ‘Doughey’ Randolph or just ‘Dolph’ for everyone else.
Having gained a first in Maths Moderations at Oxford, J.H.R. then switched to Theology. This rather small, and for much of his life, rather stout man, stalked, and sometimes strutted upon, the Sherborne stage for nearly half a century. Choleric, and at times infuriating, gay and companionable at others, quick witted and full of humour, temperamentally nervous and unpredictable, enthusiastic and excitable, imperious and diffident in turn, deeply affectionate but embarrassed to admit it, exceptionally clever and gifted (The Times crossword was a daily routine but scarcely a challenge); learned and widely read; of unswerving Christian conviction, brilliant teacher, fine schoolmaster, fervently patriotic Englishman; was above all a lovable man. A man of such stature that for all his lack of inches, no-one who was part of the Sherborne community in his time will ever forget him.
Mathematics was his main subject, and he was Head of the Department for many years. Of course with his quick mind he was at his best with the top sets, and marked papers with astonishing speed and accuracy. There was a splendid cartoon of him once in the Shirburnian, when he was at his most rotund. He was depicted standing on a dais with a piece of chalk in his hand and half facing his class. Out of his mouth were coming words, ‘then I looked round’. He treasured that because it so aptly matched his own sense of humour.
A born actor in his earliest days, he often took major parts in School Plays, and his memory was such that it was difficult to catch him out over a quotation from Shakespeare.
The Corps, which he commanded for sixteen years, was his pride and joy, though not every cadet shared in his joy! He could be an intimidating figure in his uniform, and if on parade some cadet was particularly inept his Commanding Officer would march up to within inches of him and vent his displeasure in a voice which became high pitched with fury. Even his officers were known to wilt before his tirades. He was proud with good reason of the discipline, efficiency and morale of the Corps, especially at Camp. There he was a highly respected Contingent Commander.
Fond of games, he was in his day a diminutive wing forward in the Christ’s Hospital XV; a College cricketer inclined to retreat towards square leg, so he said, when confronted with fast bowling, and for years an impressive coach of the school 2nd XV, refereeing in shorts of such shape and length which even in those days caused furtive merriment! Golf he played until very near the end of his life. In his prime he had a handicap of three. Woe betide anyone who moved or spoke when J.H.R. was addressing a golf ball.
Having spoken of the Corps as his Pride and Joy, Housemastering at Abbeylands, followed by his marriage and the growth of his family took over that role in his life. Betty who understood him so well, unobtrusively and steadily helped to develop the other side of his nature, and with his children gave fulfilment to his life. This fiery self-willed little man gradually mellowed, and in his own kind of way became a devoted pater familias. I am sure that his other gifted children will agree with me when I say that no family success gave him greater pleasure than the news that Mark was to follow in his footsteps with a Mathematical Scholarship to the Queens’ College, Oxford.
His work for the welfare of others in politics, Schools Clubs and Parish cannot be adequately summarised here. Suffice it to say that it was a matter for regret to many that it never received any mark of recognition.
I shall end as I began with the schoolmaster with his deep and abiding loyalty to Sherborne. The man who never preached, but taught so much to his colleagues and his boys; the man who won the respect and attention of the five Chiefs under whom he served. The Housemaster who cared deeply about his House, collectively and individually; who interfered as little as possible and respected a boy’s privacy, but whose help and advice was always available. It was perhaps because he had the brain and wit to see clearly what was really important that he could sympathise with the ways of the young, and forgive or pass over some waywardness or temporary aberration, when younger less tolerant men were baffled and upset.
H.F.W. Holmes
The Shirburnian, 1975, p.4.
John Hervey Randolph (1898-1975).
Born 8 March 1898.
Christ’s Hospital.
Queen’s College, Oxford.
Assistant master, Sherborne School, September 1922-July 1967
Housemaster of Abbeylands 1940-1955.
Died 17 August 1975.