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A Great Man and a Great HM – WJ Smyly

Reminiscence of Ha Kao – Thomas Liang (66)

Reminiscence of Ha Hao (Jimmy Lowcock)

The Headmaster’s House – Peter Kwok (65)

In Memory of Mr. Sidney James Lowcock – the Headmaster’s House

Where was that special “classroom” in which extra lessons were taught and learned on Hill Kadoorie?   The Headmaster’s House.

The House had served different headmasters through the years.   For my years, it was Mr. Sidney James Lowcock.   There could be many reasons why Mr. Lowcock had chosen to continue with the tradition.   One of the reasons could be that he preferred to be close to the school and his students.   After all, it was only a pleasant few minutes walk to school each morning across the field, a good warm-up with a healthy pre-load of fresh air for a long day at the office.   However, the more important reason perhaps was: Mr. Lowcock wanted to make himself and his 2-story old house accessible.

To me, Mr. Lowcock had made our headmaster’s house an integral part of our campus on Hill Kadoorie.   I may have learned my academics in many different classrooms in the main school building, my practical skills in the laboratories in the New Wing, and experienced that added dimension of school life on stage in the Assembly Hall with the orchestras.   However, when I became a boarder in my U6 year, my horizon widened.   As a senior boarder, hence free from all lights-out restrictions, I was able to stay at the headmaster’s house until late.   It was there, given those additional after-school hours, through the many days and nights in my Upper 6 year, that I was privileged to both know Mr. Lowcock better and above all, learn about my “self” much more.  

DBS had been known for offering a rounded education to its students.   Being active on the music-arm in our DBS tradition, I thought I was “rounded”, meeting the challenges in time-management between the demands from academics and extracurricular activities.  Little did I know that to be “rounded” in music, I needed to open up my tunnel vision, extend my understanding and involvement in music beyond the classical.   Still could remember how captivated I was when first introduced to jazz by Mr. Lowcock, listening to the body-moving, finger-snapping sounds by MJQ, the Modern Jazz Quartet.  Mr. Lowcock was holding a drink in his hand, with his body gently swaying to the rhythm and the syncopated thumps of the double bass.     “That’s the way to enjoy music!” I said to myself that night.   Not body-stiff, neck-tied and sitting still in the etiquette-laden concert hall!    I was amazed by the fact that despite being called “Modern”, the jazz group actually followed such old classic musical forms as baroque counterpoints, something I was familiar with and could therefore appreciate the new sound almost immediately.   At that moment, the boundary between the almost aristocratic classical music and the people-friendly music, such as jazz, began to blur; the wall separating them began to tumble as I began to realize the more important purpose and true meaning of music.   I finally unlearned my biases, and thereupon became open to question the meanings of not only music in particular, but also life in general.   It was Mr. Lowcock who had shown me the way, just as he had enlightened many others, both before and after me.

Mr. Lowcock had made his residence into an open “class room”, an extension from the main school across the field.   During his years, Mr. Lowcock had made his house an “open” facility, a “House of Discoveries” for all who came through the door.   The Prefects, the boarders, the day-boys, our school’s budding artists, painters, achieving athletes and the musically inclined… each would have his own unique encounter and story to tell.   David Sung (Class’65), my Upper 6 roommate, had told his.   It was also where my other artistically gifted roommate, late Victor Yeung Charn-hung, was finally able to verbalize his deep-seated fear of the unknown and uncertainties, in dealing with his health and financial problems as he contemplated on applying for college in the US.   Mr. Lowcock challenged Victor with more than a token stipend, but more importantly also with a lesson to learn in successfully completing a project.    So night after night, Victor would disappear from our dorm room, working overtime on his project when our remaining days on Hill Kadoorie were numbered.  There were times he hinted he could not make it, but he also expressed how important it was for him to start and be able to finish the project.   He eventually overcame his self-doubts and went on to finish his drawings of our headmasters’ portraits, now lining up the walls of our Assembly Hall.  [To this date, I still ponder what pain and sufferings he must have gone through after his DBS days before he finally took his own life.]

The headmaster’s house was a popular haven where we were encouraged to not only challenge the established with courage and determination, but also our self.  In the process, many would discover our own “self”… in our innocent nonage.  Mr. Lowcock made it happen.

…………………………………………

Headful of memorable flashbacks
Heartful of deep gratitude
Heavy indebtedness

Mr. Lowcock, thank you for being there
You touched and changed my life
You gave me my first instrument

[My first verse from “Joy in Heaven” (with attached mp3 audio track), a parody on Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven”:]

You would know our names
If we saw you in heaven
It would be the same
If we saw you in heaven…

We must be strong
And carry on
’cause I know
How you would have
Joy in heaven…

Good-bye, Jimmy…
One of your many who had received,
Peter Kwok, (Class ’65)

..

Do the Right Thing – Kenneth Wan (62)

Headmaster S.J. Lowcock – R.I.P.

Headmaster S.J. Lowcock had inspired me to become who and what I am today.

The pivotal point, where I changed my behavioral view in life, transpired from a single incident that happened to me in Form 4, the year Mr. Lowcock became the Headmaster.  Joseph Chou, my best friend since our DPS days and my partner-in-mischief, and I were ordered to the Headmaster Office during a Mandarin class taught by Mr. T.C. Chang (Mandarin Lo).  We were there because Mandarin Lo had noticed paper balls were flying across the aisles while he was writing on the board, and we became the prime suspects, even though there were other culprits.

Lowcock (as he was frequently referred to, besides Har Gau Lo) was surprised to see us at his office.  We were considered two of his favorite students after all, being quite athletic and religious.  Nevertheless, before he would meter the punishment, he said to us, “Do the right thing.  Admit that you were throwing paper balls, and that it was the wrong behavior to do in a classroom.”  In my heart, I thought Lowcock needed to hear a confession from us first, as a principle, before he would carry out the punishment.  However, by telling us to “Do The Right Thing”, it immediately trumped over all other feelings and excuses that we might have had at that time.  We both confessed, thereby relieving other offenders from being called to the carpet.  Ten canes later, we obviously felt the pain, but more critically, we felt a lot more at peace and renewed, knowing that we had done the right thing by confessing and by owning up to our (mis)deed.

From that day on, “Do The Right Thing” became my conscience and my guide in life.  Joseph Chou eventually excelled academically in DBS.  But his life was cut short soon after he entered HKU.  To this day, I still reminisce our time together in DBS.   Meanwhile, I continued to participate in sports.  “Do The Right Thing” rewarded me once again the year I became the school swimming team captain in 1961 -– In order to maximize our total points in the Inter-School Swimming Competition, I volunteered to enter a vacant slot in the Butterfly event that no other team members could or wished to participate.  Even though Butterfly was my weakest style, I did not want to give up the opportunity to increase our total team points.  I wanted to do the right thing.  Not surprisingly, I came in last, but I gained a point to the overall score for the team, and solidified our Inter-School Championship that year.  I still treasure the victory and the award ceremony to this day.

Headmaster Lowcock continued to be my mentor and advisor after I entered the business world.  When I wanted to marry the love of my life, he would “Do The Right Thing” for us and walked my bride down the aisle at our wedding because her father was not able to make it.  For that, Juliana and I are forever grateful to Headmaster Lowcock, especially when we celebrate our 50th anniversary in two years. 

For us, “Do The Right Thing” continues to inspire and guide us in cultivating team spirit and having a clear conscience on things we do in our daily life.  Juliana and I are very saddened by Headmaster Lowcock’s sudden departure.  We had looked forward so much to seeing him at our ’62 Class Reunions (DBS and Pooi-To Girls’ School) this year.  We shall miss Headmaster S.J. Lowcock dearly.  May he rest in peace.

Kenneth Wan, Class of 1962

Lt. Governor (retired)

New York State District, U.S.A.

Kiwanis International

Email Address:  kenwan888@hotmail.com

February 2, 2012

Mr S J Lowcock – my encounters with him- Sung Tai-Wai,David (65)

Mr S J Lowcock – my encounters with him, how he shaped and changed my life

To those who do not know me, I am Dr. David Sung, 1965 graduate of DBS. Some people may describe me as meek, gentle, and quiet. An average guy.

I spent 9 years at DBS, from Primary 5 to Upper 6. Academically, I was above-average. In extra-curricular activities, I did a bit of foot-ball. Swimming could be the only sports that I excelled in, being a member of the school team and elected house swimming-captain in F4. I was a member of the photographic society, music promotion society, both of the school choirs, and had played some minor roles in house-drama. I had never been caned, or given a DC. Quite an inconspicuous and low-key member amongst other active boys in a school like DBS.

Upon my return to school in the summer of 1965, to collect my school-cert results, I made my first personal encounter with the head-master, Mr. S.J.Lowcock, for the first time. We exchanged conversations for a few minutes – nothing remarkable that I could recall. On another occasion, we exchanged a few more words at the school field, when I brought my brother, 7-years my junior, to show him what DBS was like, and to play skate-board.

All of a sudden, I found my name on the prefects’ list.

I joined boarding school at the start of Lower 6. My bonding with the HM started there and then. I considered this the most fruitful event of my life. More often than not, after school, and even more so during week-ends, upon our return to the boarding school, groups of “senior” boarders would go over to his house after dinner. We admired the settings and the “culture” of
his home – the furniture, the paintings on the walls, the books, his collection of whiskies, and LP records. We enjoyed classical and jazz music flowing out from his huge electro-static speakers. We chatted freely, ending up feeling intrigued by how he could easily read people’s mind, and the way he dealt with crisis. We listened with admiration to his stories which were
imbibed with philosophy, and yet so original. We all enjoyed our time with him, sitting at the balcony, under the stars. 

In Upper 6, I took up the post of house-captain of Sargent. I indulged myself in the role and responsibility with utmost devotion. That year, Sargent had a very strong team and was a strong contender to win the over-all athletic championship. During the 400m relay, the decider event, our final-leg runner crossed the finish-line at the same time as another from a house which was not in contention. There was no electronic device back in 1966, and our team was ruled second by the judge. As the house-captain, I naturally made an appeal, ending eventually having to confront Mr. Lowcock. His remark was a flat: “the judge’s decision is final”.
Clear as crystal. A good lesson on “the rules of the game”, a motto which I have adhered to for the rest of my life.

My next significant encounter with the HM affected my life and career altogether. One of the seven senior boarders, the late Victor Yeung Charn-Hung, suffered from recurrent hip pain which was undiagnosed at that time (it subsequently turned out to be “rheumatoid arthritis”, diagnosed years later). The HM took him, together with a few senior boys, to seek treatment by an acupuncturist. It turned out I became the “patient” instead. I fainted at the sight of needles going into Yeung’s body.

I began to doubt my endowment in applying for medical school after matriculation. That was the first private encounter I had with Jimmy, face to face. With no hesitation, he took me to the corner of the room, sat me on the floor, produced a paper-thin, glistening and brand-new razor-sharp blade, and instructed me to cut into his hands. I was flabbergasted and refrained spontaneously. Then he took my hand to hold the blade, and made a cut across his own hand. I tried to compose and control myself, as best as I could. He told me that was not good enough, and not deep enough. He wanted me to do it again, independently, with my own hands.

Only a super-natural human would attempt such a daring feat.

I was once again deeply touched when he handed me a cheque for pocket-money upon my entry to medical school, knowing that I did not come from a well-to-do family. He told me that the money was not from him, but from an anonymous sponsor and that it was part of an on-going project under his discretion.

To this end, I returned the act, upon my graduation, to support and carry out his well-intentions and mission. To me, he was the master of “give and take”.

Into my 4th year working at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, I caught pneumonia, with persistent high fever for a few days. 80% of my lungs were opacified on X-ray. The experts could not find the causative agent, be it bacteria or virus. I was in the isolation ward and nobody was supposed to come into contact with me. Jimmy visited me. He embraced me deeply with open arms. I tided over.

These incidences are some of the memorable encounters I had with Jimmy. My understanding has been: he never expected any acknowledgement from me. But I feel deeply indebted to him. He is more a father than a mentor, or friend, to me.

He shaped and changed my life.

Sung Tai-Wai, David
Class of 1965

S J Lowcock’s way – Kenneth Sei, Former Sportsmaster

S J Lowcock’s way

“Tell you what to do and never bother how you get the job done” gave those who worked for him full autonomy. Then a pat on the back made the job-well-done even more gratifying.

The humorous comments of this cantonese-speaking-gweilo always helped:
– At a general meeting, A PE teacher questioned about the fault/unfairness of the measuring system (in those days students were graded according to their age and height). He’s the first one to react, ” I agree.  Measure them while they are lying on the floor.” After a burst of laughter, case closed.
– A team manager kept questioning our time-keepers about his athlete’s time. SJL quietly whispered, “Why don’t we give each  athlete a stop-watch and let them time.”

When LSC’s new school ground opened, they lacked the special javelin to use on the artificial turf. He let their javelin throwers practise at the small field. I recalled he talked to Ronnie Chan (our star javelin thrower), “Let’s help them, coach them and beat them at the championship.”

Mr. Casswell, the Director of PE Department, once told me, ” Your Headmaster always sweats for POINTS.” Every team member contributed a little to WIN.

Thank you for the fondest memory under your tenure. We will miss you.

Kenneth Sei,
Former Sportsmaster.
Vancouver, Canada