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Horwood‘s Illustrious Weather Vane.
"Towards the end of the Easter term in 1962 I was returning from Geology lab to Unit B in Horwood Hall. In passing the Library – then still a building site – I noticed a truck unloading the large pole and copper ball which now tops the clock tower as a weather vane. That evening in Unit B we had our regular supper session (coffee and toast) and I suggested that our unit would look rather splendid with that pole on its roof. Eight of us formed the team that went into action (Col James, the late Geoff Banks, Alan Gill and four others whose names I cannot recall). Earlier I had explored the below ground tunnels carrying the heating and was confident that we could use it to get inside the security perimeter around the new library site. Hence, from inside Unit B, 4 of us with torches descended into the tunnels and within ten minutes were inside the library site. There was a security man but he made a circuit regularly every half hour. As son he had passed we popped out, grabbed the pole, and lifted it over the wire fence into the hands of the other four. It was then whisked away to Unit B. Two long ladders were borrowed from an adjacent building site and the pole was hauled up onto the unit roof. A convenient ventilation shaft was the perfect place for the pole – its diameter fitted preciously.
The next morning there was a commotion outside the unit once the missing pole had been brought to the attention of the builders. Two workmen were sent up to retrieve it. It proved to be too heavy for them to handle safely and they dropped it. Unfortunately one of the workmen was hit by the falling pole and in their anger they simply tipped the pole over the parapet and it fell like a missile onto the concrete. Net result – a rather sick looking pole no longer straight (I think that the copper ball was also dented). Naturally we were hauled up in front of Robert Rayne, our Warden, and of course no one knew anything about it.
There matters had to stand until a week or two later when one of the members of Unit B, who was not involved, ratted on us. We were then summoned to appear before the VC Harold Taylor. I had a sneaking feeling he had some admiration for the way we had tackled the logistics of getting it onto our roof without damage. But he nevertheless had to defend the Universities’ interests and account for the damage repair which I recall was something like £900, a monstrous sum in those days. Being not long before finals he showed compassion and permitted us to take the exams. We were each saddled with a £100+ debt to the university and we declared that we would do our best to raise the money. After finals we had a barbecue type event but I recall that at the best we hardly broke even. And we were allowed to graduate. I believe we also sent a “Get Well Soon” message to the unfortunate workman.
I presumed that the University has long since written off the cost since after leaving Keele I heard nothing further. It has just occurred to me that I now have an explanation for why, when I submitted for my Geology DSC in 1992, the fee went up from £110 to £550! After protest the lower figure was accepted and I passed!
Incidentally, earlier whilst exploring the tunnels in the Horwood site we found that we could get under the floor of Robert Rayne’s house. If we gently tapped on the underside of his floor his dog would go berserk being much more sensitive to vibrations than Robert who was oblivious of the cause!" Peter Worsley (1962)
"The weather vane was on B-Block (or Unit B as we used to call it!) The weather vane had been delivered to the library which was under construction and it was clear that the library would not be in need of such a fine item for some time! It consisted of a pole, perhaps 20 foot high, with a large copper ball half way up, with the actual vane at the top. It looked magnificent to us! It was very heavy! It took 10 of us to get the weather vane onto the roof of Unit B using ladders (courtesy of the library construction site) and ropes (courtesy of the climbing club).
For a day it was the envy of all of the other blocks in Horwood. But for some reason Bobby Rayne, our trusty warden, took exception to its location, and requested the maintenance staff to remove it. As Tony said, we had wedged the pole of the weather vane into the roof drain with several chocks. If Bobby had asked us to remove it we could have done quite easily. But alas, this was not the case! The two maintenance men chose to remove the chocks, unaware of the great weight of the pole. Gravity took over. The pole proceeded to plunge down the drain, flattening the copper ball, and the vane striking one of the maintenance men as he watched the disappearing pole with some alarm. We were very fortunate that he was not standing under the 'W' of the vane otherwise the outcome could have been much more serious than the sore head he did receive. The position of the arms of the vane changed from horizontal to almost vertical as they hit the roof, but they did prevent to pole from disappearing entirely into the roof drain! I am not sure how many maintenance men were dispatched to remove the battered weather vane from the drain hole, but it would have to have been more than the original two. I did see the damaged vane lying in a sorry state outside the library the following day, and it had lost all its glorious lustre.
There was great consternation about the injured maintenance man for we learned that he was in hospital as the result of his injuries, and we immediately owned up to Bobby Rayne and were called to meet the Vice-Chancellor. He was relatively new to Keele and seemed to be a little nonplussed that we would confess to such an activity. However, he dutifully fined us, and the fines were to pay for the repair of the weather vane.
On my last visit to Keele it was good to see that the weather vane still stands proudly over the library! They were great days." Colin James (1962)
Pretentious Statues?
"When the library was opened in the early 1960s we all thought the little lions on top and the pole with an open book which was in front between the tow sets of steps were pretentious and not at all in keeping with the campus architecture (which was still army huts, mostly). The lions were soon crowned (my memory says with top hats, but chamber pots may have suited better) and the pole adorned with a red painted stripe going round it like a barber's pole. Unfortunately the paint soaked into the pole and could not be removed so that was the end of that expensive piece of sculpture". Mo Waddington (Brown) (1965)
Ordinary items in Extraordinary Places….
On another occasion we stole very early in the morning into the RAF hut (photo) the subsidiary eating hall on the way to Keele Hall, and removed every seating-cushion from the chairs. We hid them in a nearby university gardening shed. We duly went to breakfast at the normal hour to observe the result, half expecting the seats to have been already found and restored to the chair frames. But they had not been found, and so everyone used the dining trays as impromptu seating surfaces. I think it may have been several days, even a week, before the seats were restored to their former state. We never heard anything about this prank: no enquiry, no investigation, and no punishment. Jeremy Steele (1962)
Items placed on top of the Refectory roof at different times during 1950-54 included a white porcelain toilet filled with purple rhododendron flowers and Clive Collier's (1954) motorbike. I was given to understand that Clive was lent a climbing rope with which to lower his machine to the ground - the same item had been used to raise it on high! Ian Cameron (1967)
Regarding the motorbike on the roof, I was involved to the extent that it was my mortorbike, a Velocette LE. It happened in early 1953. I always suspected Tex Cooper (1954), for two reasons, he knew something about scaffolding and was sufficiently familiar with the incident to be very helpful in getting the bike down. Another suspect was Russell Towns (1956). He was something of an expert on motorbikes and was said to have been in the Royal Signals Corps display team. Anyway, he too was sufficiently familiar with the situation to be helpful in getting the bike on to the ground. Clive Collier (1954) 
I seem to re-call that a certain gang of chaps dismantled the old car of a member of staff and put it back together again on top of the refectory, which of course in my day and age abutted onto Sneyd Hall. I think that it was made clear that if the car was returned in working order nothing would be said. John Pearson (1958)
A motor cycle combination (some unknown lecturer's) was dismantled, sent up to a roof possibly of the new Chemistry building, reassembled and ridden around by a group of pranksters. I never knew how much my father was telling the truth and how much was wishful thinking. It would be very interesting to hear confirmation of these events. Tony Budd (1963)
In about 1963 or 1964 I was living in F Block and there was a fellow in the next building who had a skiff lying upside down on the grass. There was no better place to store it I guess. There was some left wing comment and grumbling so we conspired to relocate it to the fountain inside the Chemistry building. Around 2am eight of us heaved it up and travelled uphill with this beast of a vessel. It weighed much more than we had anticipated and the hill was steeper than we had. After rest stops and alarming encounters with people on their way back from evening trysts we deposited it in the pool, where it just fit. It was days before the hapless owner could mount the help necessary for its removal. It never graced the grounds after that. To this day I do not know on whom we played this trick. Richard Barker (1966)
Free Parking Permit Anyone?
"When I lived off campus there was a tremendous hassle every time I came on to campus as there were not nearly enough parking spaces – I think we were only allowed to park in the Union car park. I can’t remember what the porters actually did about it if we parked “illegally” and most were quite friendly but Charlie Wainwright was one of a kind. Now this may seem fantastic to you who cannot remember an age without computers or digital photography but I found a good, clear photo of Charlie’s head and with the aid of Letraset and the copying facilities in the union I managed to produce roundels pronouncing themselves as “University Parking Permits” and distributed them freely. Within a couple of days I think they’d become reasonably popular and were to be seen in quite a few windscreens – enough to cause a bit of a stir. Charlie was hopping mad but unfortunately I don’t remember what happened in the end, even though “they” found out it was me who’d produced them. It was 1972/73 perhaps?" Adrian Stern (1976)
“Frying Tonite”
"While on the subject of pranks, I am surely not alone in remembering the special place occupied by the rising large building destined to house the Chemistry Department. I suppose this would have been in 1951-52, though I'm not sure. Anyway, we awoke one morning to see at the top of the huge chimney that made up part of the new 
building a message in starkly white paint near its top. The chimney had a rectangular cross-section, so offered a fine place for some graffiti. Next to a reasonably recognisable large white fish were the words “FRYING TONITE”. At about the same time, a song emerged among the campus community, the opening lines being – “Have you seen Prof Springall's erection? It gets bigger every day”, referring of course, to the new building. Edward Derbyshire (1954)
Having been informed during a conversation at the Pioneers Reunion that the perpetrator of “Frying Tonite” was Harold "Tex" Cooper (1954), I decided to phone him about it and he confessed, believing that the passage of time might spare him from the University’s wrath. Apparently he was invariably known as Tex Cooper to differentiate him from so many others in his year group called John. He was 24 when he entered Keele following deferral for National Service. Tex was British but a Wild West fan and always wore a Stetson... He was also an accomplished rock climber and his skills enabled him to ascend the chimney and to perpetrate the painting of the "Frying Tonite" graffiti on the Chemistry block chimney! Keele legend! John Easom (1981) based on “inside information” from Alfred Kendall (1962)
I was involved with Tex on Frying Tonite, The Chandelier and probably some more now forgotten. Visiting the Hall recently I looked up at the impressive chandelier in the main staircase and wondered how on earth we managed to get it down. Philip Sheppard (1954, Class of 1956)
The honour of perpetrating many other pranks also lay with Tex Cooper and his co-conspirators... but the truth is never easy to establish!
I read that John "Tex" Cooper wore a Stetson hat. I was a contemporary of "Tex" and never saw him wear a Stetson hat. The name stuck to him because of his great knowledge of, and interest in, American Frontier History. We both read History and I recollect that his special subject was connected therewith. I also recollect that he came to Keele straight from school, not after national service. Clive Collier (1955)
Coronation Day Colours
My father John Moulton (1954) would always tell of the pranks that were done in his time There was the painting of the Campus in Red, White and Blue paint on Coronation night (June 1-2 1953). Apparently the paint was mixed with cement so it would last. There was still evidence - albeit very faded - around the post box in my time. Tony Budd (1963)
Tex confessed to being the perpetrator of a legendary prank for Coronation Day of Queen Elizabeth II on 2nd June 1953 – Tex Cooper (1954) and a number of others painted the campus red, white and blue with hydrated lime coloured with red and white dye. This mixture was painted in stripes the width of a broom across every surface – buildings, tree trunks, roadside kerbs, etc. Although he confesses to be one of those who painted the campus, he notes with remorse that he was not one of those poor unfortunates assigned to scrub it all off again. Alfred Kendall (1962)
The Clock House Drive Chandelier
Tex Cooper (1954) was something of a legend at Keele when I arrived in 1957. Mary Wilson told a story that he, and presumably others, dismantled one of the Keele Hall chandeliers and re-erected it in Clock House Drive. Apparently it was hung from the bridge, connected to a power supply and lit. She seemed to think that it had something to do with newly installed lamps on the drive between Horwood and Lindsay Hall huts to deter the amorous proclivities of students after the 7.00pm curfew. Students, until well after my time, were not allowed into rooms of the opposite sex after 7.00pm and Mary Wilson was in the habit of driving her car - MMA 838 - along the drive shining her headlights upon those engaged in fond farewells. Sheila Everard (1961)
One more thing on the Chandelier. It was connected to the mains via a lamp post and lit up. It is amazing we didn't electrocute ourselves doing that up a pole in the dark. Unfortunately an early morning delivery truck severed the connection. As I remember it, we hung the chandelier in a tree which made it look like a Christmas tree. Philip Sheppard (1954, Class of 1956)
Re-designing the Campus
During the busy buildings years, of the ‘50s and ‘60s, opportunistic students were supplied inadvertently with the building materials to “redesign” the campus. It is possible that the entrance to the courtyard and hence to Keele Hall was blocked up on more than one occasion. Certainly I remember it being blocked up some time in the first four years (1950-54). This was done with bricks on a Saturday night; leaving a small gap low down through which Lord Lindsay and a visiting dignitary had to crawl through on the Sunday morning. Lord Lindsay was less than amused! One of the perpetrators was the late Ron Ferrans (1954), a good pal of mine. Pam Lloyd-Owen (1954)
Pam is quite correct about the wall across the entrance to Keele Hall; it was a Saturday night when it was built, and dear Ron and I built it. As I have said once before Paul Rolo, assistant men's warden at the time was amazed that no one else was involved. We were 'gated' for two weeks for our sins. David Harvey (1954)
My own memories run to another hut bricking session but this was in Horwood Hall just up from Robert Raine's bungalow. I cannot remember why the victims were selected but it took a lot of labour to haul the bricks over - a full two huts’ worth of student power. Afterwards the contractor demanded the SU pay for the recovery of his materials. He was told to get the money from the students involved (it is safe to confess now given the law limiting the time of claims). Tony Scrase (1960)
I remember being told that some years before my day the entrance to one of the huts, a woman’s hut containing a resident tutor, was bricked up overnight. If you recall, there was a kind of porch projecting from the side of each hut, so the interior door would have muffled the sound of trowel on brick. Normally, the only way out the next morning would have been through a window, but, this being a university, defenestration was the only means of egress. Ian Cameron (1967)
Early Pranks and Japes
Any student who has passed through Keele University has, at some point, thought about or taken part in a mischievous jape. Some are more memorable than others and live on in Keele’s tribal memory....
“GOOD LUCK LADS”
One of the longest lasting marks left by early pranksters can still be faintly seen in Keele Hall courtyard today….
I recall the message on the inner wall of the courtyard very well. It read - GOOD LUCK LADS! I seem to think that it appeared on the morning of the very first Finals Examination in 1954 rather than the first Foundation Year exam in 1951 as suggested by others. I never found out who the pavement artists were, but it was a huge boost to some of the first finalists, including me. Edward Derbyshire (1954)
I have part responsibility for Good Luck Lads and it was 1954. I am glad it cheered up some of the first year on the eve of the exams. The paint used for the "Good Luck Lads" slogan was emulsion not gloss. We thought it was whitewash and would come off easily. In retrospect also sexist in tone. One of the more embarrassing memories I would prefer to forget! Philip Sheppard (1952-54)
On a wet day the remnants of Good Luck Lads – well, "Lads" and a bit of" Luck" – can still be seen in 2009. The sandstone walls must have absorbed enough of the white paint to endure the wind and weather for over sixty years.. John Easom (1981)
WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE KEELE RAILWAY STATION SIGNS?
"I was in the Hawthorns 1956-6O and we (including the late Ken Plampin) commandered the KEELE railway sign from platform approach in 1958. Ken brought it to our shared room and it was secreted under my mattress in the old house for months before someone ' pinched' it in 1957/58. It was never seen by me again. To this day I do not where it went or where it is." Cliff Blakemore (1960)
"I remember that Keele Station became derelict when the Newcastle to Market Drayton branch line closed to passenger traffic in May 1956. Although the station was a mile or so out of the village on the road to Madeley, the distance didn't deter me from my quest to acquire a souvenir of my time at Keele. I lived in Hut 40 (the 'top hut' in more ways than one) just below the professorial houses, which was handy for a home run down the drive from the village. The operation was planned in advance and in daylight and I found that there were two iron station signs which were attached by bolts to wooden frames and which would require some strength to remove them. I believe that there was also a much larger wooden sign which would have required a horse and cart to carry it away. On the following night, which was suitably dark, cold and wet, I set off with my good friend Roger Halls (1959) to help me wrench a sign off its board and carry it home. It came as somewhat of a surprise to discover that someone had been there before us and one sign had already gone. You can't trust anybody, can you? We removed the remaining sign and bore the loot away between us. Had we just tucked it under our arms and strolled home I don't suppose that anyone would have given us a second glance. However, a heightened sense of drama and guilt made us skulk along the country road trying to look innocent whenever we were caught in the headlights of passing cars. However, we made it back safely to Hut 40 where it hung on the wall of my room. But who had the other sign? There's another mystery." Peter Maybank (1959)
"I was at Keele 1950-54 but I had no idea that Keele had a station! I think many of us came by coach – cheaper!" Anna Swiatecka (1954)
The Market Drayton branch railway opened in sections, with Stoke on Trent to Newcastle-under-Lyme being the first to open on the 6th September 1852. This was followed eleven years later by the Newcastle to Silverdale section in May of 1863. It wasn't until the 1st of February 1870 that the connection to Market Drayton was completed, giving Madeley an east-west route. Although initially the line was double track, it was converted to single track in 1934. Passenger services were withdrawn on May 6th 1956 and the Silverdale to Stoke on Trent section closed on 2nd March 1964. It was finally closed to goods trains on the 9th January 1967, although coal trains still ran from Silverdale colliery to Madeley Road and onto the former LNWR line. With the closure of Silverdale colliery in 1998, all traffic on this line ceased. A map of the Market Drayton branch line places Keele Park between Keele Station and Madeley Road. Keele Park had its own station, not to be confused with Keele station and is where horse races were held. The station was opened in 1896 and closed in March of 1907. The racecourse was located to the right of Clockhouse Drive, facing away from the Clock House - and now beyond the route of the M6. People who have explored Newcastle will know that the station was near the Borough Arms Hotel and the footpath known as the Station Walks follows the line of the old railway and its cuttings. There was a tunnel just on the Newcastle side of Albert Streetand another one by Victoria Street, Basford - after the tunnel was filled in it left a deep hollow at the entrance point now known as the "Grum".
A DIRTY PROTEST
“Does anyone else remember Princess Margaret's visit, when a toilet was cemented over the entrance of what is now the Walter Moberly Hall? And dustbins were arranged on the grass draped in undergraduate gowns? Some people did this or something similar during my fresher year 1960-61, but my recollection is that we did it in the middle of the roundabout, having emptied their contents around it. This was conceived as a protest against all the cleaning and polishing that had gone on in the week before her visit. If I thought hard I might be able to remember who was involved. It must have been some of those dreadful bounders who went to the "republican party" which always coincided with Commemoration Ball. How about the huhaw about wearing CND badges when being presented to Margaret Windsor at graduation?” Colin Smith (1964)
Some More Pranks
What happens when Keelites start Naming Names
"Do you also remember those esteemed legal gentleman who removed the complete law reports from the library just to shew it could be done? One is a professor of law in the US I believe and the other something important in the prison administration" Adrian Stern (1976)
"I remember the much more famous CAFÉ put on the chapel roof (using cut up sheets) by the legendary ‘Commander’ Larry Southcombe, also famous for parking his mini hard by the library door so that no-one could get in. A legend!" Gordon Mousinho (1975)
"Mark Kalisch (professor), Toj Brandon (was a prison governor, Parkhurst, now retired) and Ron Hawkes. All my year and did law with me (not noticeably well!)" Gordon Mousinho (1975)
"Actually, the two I meant were a year ahead of us; Tony Waters (Prof) and Alex (damn I’ve forgotten his surname) since we’re naming names!" Adrian Stern (1975)
"OK right – I thought it would be a stretch for Brandon and Hawkes (super straight) to do something like that. Kalisch on the other hand...." Gordon Mouisnho (1975)
"They both ended up as professors – Alex was in fact Professor Alec Spencer" Adrian Stern (1975)
The Mysterious Mr Mazurski
Dick Hubbard (1969) regaled Alice, Sue, Al Forster and me with the tale of R J Mazurki. Dick lived where there were a lot of Polish people around. His gang invented Mr Mazurki as a missing Polish war hero and wrote letters to the local paper enquiring about him. It got out of hand when real Poles started replying to their letters, saying they remembered this chap Mazurki. The R J were Dick's own initials. He claimed the story got into the Daily Telegraph.... Dick said that one of his friends joined the Navy and signed Mazurki in on every course he attended. At the end of his training, he had to sit an exam. A paper had been set out for Mazurki. As a result Mazurki was listed as a deserter. To avoid accusations of contempt towards Poles, we told a Polish student at Keele, Frank Pajak (1970) about Mazurki. All he did was laugh himself silly. Scenting a good thing, we made use of Mazurki too. Alice Meager (Wild) (1969) signed him up for a Physical Society trip to Rugeley B Power Station, much to Mike Ridley's (1968) consternation. When Alice replaced Mike as Physical Society secretary, we were unable to pull a similar stunt on her. My greatest success was years later when I was teaching, getting a colleague to put his name up on a supervision list for absent staff and almost persuading the Deputy Head that he really existed. No doubt he has cropped up in many other places as well. John Meager (1968)
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