by Bill James
And Optor had, in fact, brought a couple of top players – Pierre Pajot and Sean Nuseby, both in club gear. Their expenses, also, would be an allowable tax break for Optor. On the back of the lorry now they mimicked shots at Optor’s goal and all three of them frequently bent over the sides of the vehicle to sign autograph books of fans who trotted to keep pace while Optor and his friends scribbled. Although Tane had felt obliged to get into soccer kit himself to maintain tone, he didn’t expect anyone to want his autograph.
It was part of the Bounty Week tradition that both principals should be personally involved in the cavalcade and a little way ahead, next in line to the jazz lorry, Victor could see Lawford Chote apparently garbed in breastplate armour and occasionally wielding a sword. He was clearly meant to be Shakespeare’s Macbeth. He wore a pink plastic crown. Near him three staff members dressed and made-up as witches sat around a big metal cauldron that simmered over a paraffin heater. It gave off occasional puffs of steam. Most probably the witches would be muttering their creepy spells, though Tane could not hear any of that from this distance. Would they predict for Lawford what was going to happen to Sedge and Charter? The early witches’ scene in Macbeth had a mewing brindled cat referred to. Maybe Chote would see some sort of link to the d’Brindle Hall. Which sort, though?
Victor thought one of the witches might be Chote’s Volvo companion, now in rags, his face smeared with what could be black boot polish, and with a wig made of what seemed to be a mixture of grimy cord and rope bits.
TWENTY-SIX
1987
As the Sedge Macbeth float trundled the last stage of its journey, Chote seemed to get bored with the play-acting. He sheathed the plastic sword in its glinting plastic scabbard and put it on the floor. He came and squatted down with the witches at the cauldron and said to Martin, ‘So what kind of future do you see, Third Witch? “If you can look into the seeds of time/And say which grain will grow and which will not?” We see her tactics, don’t we, Mart?’
‘Whose?’
‘Geraldine’s.’
‘Tactics?’
‘There’s to be a meeting, isn’t there – Geraldine, Lane-Hinkton, you, me? Why does she require you in on it? I’ll tell you: she’s trying to concoct an appearance of fairness. Geraldine’s bringing Lane-Hinkton for various services, so she’ll balance that by inviting you. She wouldn’t want, say, Roy Gormand with me. He’s near the end and seeks a calm and sedate life from now on. Entirely understandable. He would do his customary act of backing me absolutely on whatever, wherever – not so much loyalty as serfdom. She believes that wouldn’t be so with you, Mart. The main part of your career is still to come, isn’t it? You’d like Sedge to survive in its present state to help you along with that. Also entirely understandable, Mart. Geraldine believes she and Lane-Hinkerton can convince you that what they’re going to propose is the correct and, in fact, the only feasible policy for Sedge. She’s sure they can win you over and sure, also, that you will then help them to persuade me into cooperation with them. Blandishments – you’ll get blandishments, and they’ll expect you to give me blandishments. It’s why I ask how you see the future, Mart. Will they be able to recruit you?’
‘Ned Lane-Hinkton phoned and spoke of an ultimatum, but didn’t specify what it was,’ Martin Moss replied.
‘Oh, I can tell you: they’ll demand I cut Sedge expenditure for at least a spell of years. “Do it our way or we slash all government funds to Sedge immediately. You wouldn’t be able to pay the staff or put the lights on.”’
‘That would be extreme, wouldn’t it?’ Mart replied.
‘Geraldine is extreme when she wants to be. Lane-Hinkerton would copy. She’s his boss, inter alia.’ Chote waved to some spectators and adjusted his breastplate which seemed to be giving him discomfort. He became silent, head bent forward a little. Mart went quiet, too.
Second Witch, Jasper Dunning (Archaeology), and often a deep-dyed nuisance, said, ‘“Stay you imperfect speakers, tell me more.” That’s a Macbeth line, but Witch 2 has borrowed it.’
‘Sod off, Jasper,’ Chote replied.
‘You mentioned the future, I think, Principal,’ Dunning said.
‘Yes, the future for Sedge, now, starting at 1987 and going on into the 1990s and eventually into the new millennium as far as we can see,’ Chote said. ‘2001, 2010, 2020 etcetera.’
‘But you’ve pissed on that, haven’t you, Principal? Never mind the new millennium and thereafter. Is Sedge going to reach even the start of the 1990s so my students can get their degrees?’
‘There are more important matters than one year’s student degrees,’ Chote said. They were talking to each other across the cauldron, the steam blotting out one face for a while, then the other.
‘My classes don’t think there are more important things than their degrees,’ Dunning said.
‘I’ve worked to make places available for many more students to get their degrees,’ Chote replied.
‘And you’ve made a fucking mess of it, Chote. You’re going to sink Sedge solo.’
Chote stood. He picked up the scabbard and sword and moved fast around the cauldron towards Dunning.
TWENTY-SEVEN
2014
Theo said, ‘Before the break Elvira was talking about the need to put a precise, personal value on each of the two principals, not simply and tritely regard them as equals. She suggested that any difference in worth – and she saw a mighty difference – yes, this difference should be reflected in the debate about statues. It means we’ve had a pair of very fundamental proposals before us lately. First came Wayne’s outright, even sweeping, declaration that there should be no statues at all, because many would consider such memorials elitist, backward-looking, stonily lifeless while pretending to be alive. I think the word “naff” was also used, though I wouldn’t like to attempt a definition. Wayne’s submission was, of course, well-expressed and structured, but not favoured by this group.
‘Elvira’s subsequent claim that it is intellectually slipshod and even dishonest to treat both principals as of the same merit, and that Victor Tane’s statue should somehow indicate this, is almost as deeply challenging. I don’t believe she would go so far as to say that there should be only one statue – Tane’s – though some might think this is where her argument must lead.
Bill Davey said, ‘It surely would. What occurred in 1987 was a crisis involving two universities and two principals. One of those universities was in real danger of disintegration because – it could be convincingly argued – yes, because of the policies followed by one of those principals, Lawford Chote. But, absolute disaster was prevented, and here we are today in a healthy, distinguished university formed from the merged Charter Mill and Sedge, or Sedge and Charter Mill. One of those two principals was hugely influential and, indeed, instrumental, in bringing about the 1987 rescue act: Victor Tane.
‘Suppose we went along with Elvira’s premise, there would plainly be something absurd, in the full, philosophical, chaotic universe, sense of that term, if the architect of catastrophe – Chote – were commemorated at all, let alone in some statue inferior to Tane’s. Could any sculptor indicate in his/her works that one principal had been a wondrous, resourceful saviour while the other was a bonkers, money-chucking, fuck-up, though well-intentioned?’
‘It might be possible to get statues from two separate artists, one specialising in happy, ebullient-seeming likenesses, the other in those less happy and ebullient,’ Angela replied.
‘Yellow Pages?’ Jed asked. ‘“Jolly Statues Ltd. Monumental Cheeriness. At Your Personal Service.” Or “Morose Statues, Free, Miserable Home Delivery in the UK”.’
‘Tane’s scrimshank, spectral body-form wouldn’t easily be made to appear ebullient,’ Gordon Upp said.
‘I want to bring to the meeting some other archive material unearthed in my searches,’ Theo replied. ‘It might have a bearing on our present discussions. Well, no “might” – it does, certainly have a bearing. Ther
e was then, in 1987, as there is now, in 2014, a Bounty Week devoted to raising funds for charities. The 1987 Bounty Week turned out to be exceptional because a famous soccer goalkeeper, Bernard Optor, plus two other international footballers, appeared with Victor Tane on one of the Charter Mill floats in the annual motorized parade. Archive papers show that Optor was a Charter Mill graduate. He must have dutifully come back to give Tane and Charter some réclame at a critical time, and it worked.’
‘Bernie Optor?’ Gordon Upp said. ‘Played most of his club soccer in Spain? Wasn’t he involved in a let-goals-in-for-a-fee scandal?’
‘Later,’ Theo replied. ‘In 1987 he was close to sainthood. Because of Optor and his pals the Bounty Week back then got a lot of press coverage, national as well as local.’ He brought copies of some newspaper cuttings from his briefcase and put them on the table to be passed around. ‘Most of the attention is on the three players, and particularly Optor. You’ll see pictures of young kids scampering alongside the lorry to get autographs. In the background one can spot Victor Tane in soccer gear – a yellow-and-black striped jersey.’
‘He looks like a tall wasp,’ Lucy Lane said.
‘There’d obviously been a decision to pick soccer as this float’s theme and attract publicity for Tane and Charter. Note the imitation goal posts and netting to Victor’s left. The aim evidently was to make Charter and its head look successful, strong, popular at that time of massive tension in the city’s universities. Optor is praised in all the papers for faithfully taking time to help his alma mater. There must have been a briefing to let reporters know he’d graduated from Charter Mill. This was a skilfully planned operation. The media had been managed. Soccer agents would be very experienced at that.
‘For fairness, the Sedge main float also got mentions, but usually well down the columns. Chote was there apparently as Macbeth with breastplate, sword and dagger at his belt, and, no doubt, the occasional warlike scowl.’
‘I was a witch,’ Martin said. ‘We made up some curses about Charter Mill to chant and boiled murky water in a big metal tub to give off sinister fumes.’
‘There are several interesting paragraphs about that,’ Theo said. He read from one of the cuttings. ‘“When the Sedge float was passing through Highbridge Road a fight seemed to break out on the back of the lorry between Chote and one of the witches, a man but supposed to be female. Eyewitnesses said Macbeth had put his sword away in its scabbard earlier as if tired of the game, but there was what looked like a heated conversation between him and one of the witches, and suddenly he picked up the sword, still in its scabbard, moved fast around the cauldron, and began to beat the witch with it.
‘The witch had on only Y-fronts and a sort of in-character, unfetching sleeveless smock, probably made from old potato sacks. Although the weapon used by Macbeth was only plastic, it could most likely give quite painful blows on the witch’s poorly protected body. The witch didn’t defend himself very well, as if shocked and confused by this onslaught. As a tip-top warrior, Macbeth was sure to know the value of surprise.”’
Theo said, ‘The writer leaves straight reporting and does some speculation now. “But, while Macbeth was naturally capable of such very sudden physical aggression, nobody expected it from the principal of a university. Macbeth would have been proud of Lawford Chote – the sword hidden away until the exactly proper moment. Some of those watching this burst of violence couldn’t decide whether it was a real dispute or something staged – what used to be called ‘a happening’ to amuse spectators.
‘“Red weals and dark bruising could be seen on the witch’s neck and shoulder, though, which should have proved to spectators that it must be a genuine in-house spat. The witches’ bowl or cauldron was tipped over during this fracas and some people watching got soaked, perhaps scalded, by the hot, filthy water. Several men shouted curses and for a while it looked as if they might get aboard the float and hammer Chote and possibly the witches, though the witches couldn’t really be blamed for the mishap. None of this was derived from the play. Shakespeare’s Macbeth never attacked a witch or witches with his sword, either in its scabbard or not; and the witches’ cauldron was not spilled, it just went on simmering.”’
‘It wasn’t you he went for, was it, Mart?’ Lucy asked.
‘No, Second Witch. I was Third. The episode lasted only a minute and a half. Some of it made the local TV news. Lawford apologized all round and offered to pay for any dry-cleaning needed and/or ointment and painkillers for the folk scalded.’
‘In some ways this must have made the whole attempt to resemble the play hopeless,’ Gordon Upp said. ‘I mean, there’d be no dry-cleaning available in those days, nor ointment, though I think certain leaves were believed to have an analgesic influence.’
‘Dry-cleaning and ointment were not needed in the play,’ Elvira replied, ‘because the cauldron stayed upright and bubbling OK with bits of all sorts in it – a thumb, a newt’s eye, a dog’s tongue, a lizard’s leg. Probably they wouldn’t have had any of those on the Sedge lorry, except for thumbs. And Macbeth didn’t clobber one of the witches.’
‘Macbeth gets terminated, doesn’t he?’ Jed asked. ‘It’s a tragedy, yes?’
‘Some actors won’t mention the play’s name because the plot is so dark,’ Wayne said.
‘Fucking precious thesps,’ Elvira replied.
‘Yes, it’s dark,’ Theo said. ‘Maybe that’s why Chote picked this role. It’s an aggressive-defensive, do-your-worst, kind of choice.’
‘But what’s your point about the statues or statue, Theo?’ Upp said.
‘What do we learn from this age-old, back-of-a-lorry, stuff?’ Elvira asked.
‘Well, Elvira, isn’t there, on the face of it, a sort of equality, despite what you’ve just told us?’ Theo asked. ‘Both principals, were willing to make a spectacle of themselves for the charities’ sake, each recognising the force of the Bounty Week tradition and cheerfully ready to uphold it. That is a very basic, very substantial, resemblance, as is the fact that they were both major scholars, whatever their qualities as managers might have been.
‘However, I’d say that if we’re going to put differing values on them the nobler, more worthwhile figure is Lawford, although we know he would tumble before the year ended. There’s a magnificent, basically flawed grandeur to him, as there should be to all tragic heroes and heroines, or heroines and heroes, in the theatre. He stands alone with his plastic sword, dagger and breastplate and will confront whatever comes. Just like Macbeth at Dunsinane he wouldn’t lose his nerve even if a forest started to move against him.’
‘Why did he attack Second Witch, Mart?’ Jed asked.
‘Second Witch was a Sedge lecturer called Jasper Dunning (Archaeology), ever a troublesome, sniping sod, recently knighted for the quality of his digs in Wales and France. He said something Chote didn’t like. I forget what now.’
‘Lawford’s reaction shows he wouldn’t take any insult or insubordination,’ Davey said.
‘Staunch, as I’ve already pointed out,’ Theo replied. ‘I regard Tane as a lesser figure, who had to make use of help from elsewhere – from a supposed celebrity, and a tainted celebrity, as he would become subsequently. There are three time lines running in our discussion: 1987, now, but also the quarter of a century and some between. It’s my conviction that there must be two statues. Tane’s should have about it somehow a spruce aura of achievement, because his success in making the amalgamation possible is plain and undeniable. But there should be a hint that his success came via a dubious, meretricious route. Possibly the sculptor could get some shifty, conspiratorial quality into his eyes. Chote’s statue should also have an aura, but of non-surrender, tenacity, valour and error – firmness in the face of those previously mentioned fearful odds; the fearful odds that refused to change in his favour and, in fact, grew worse.’
‘You’d say we get a generous dose of catharsis from Lawford?’ Lucy asked. ‘Tragedy is supposed to bring that, isn’t it?�
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‘I used to know what catharsis meant,’ Upp said. ‘Something emotional?’
‘Release,’ Elvira said.
‘Yes, good,’ Mart said, standing.
Theo began to gather up his cuttings, but remained sitting. ‘A postscript, if you don’t mind, Chair. It might have a bearing on the statues mission. In my search of the archives I found some very well maintained secretarial diaries. They were handwritten. Nowadays, of course, they’d be in some computer’s memory bank. Normally, the entries give time and place of meetings and a short title of the business carried out, the names of those present, duration, and sometimes the outcome if a policy decision were reached. But I came across a May 1987 occasion in Chote’s suite without any of the customary detail. The diary note said only: “Principal’s conference area engaged from 1420 to 1647”.
‘The date could be significant. It’s very close to the crux stages of the Chote–Sedge crisis, isn’t it? I had a really thorough hunt for anything further, particularly names of those who might have attended, and the subject for consideration. Nothing, though.’
Martin sat down again. ‘Yes, this would have been a “Preparatory Parameters Survey (U)”,’ he said.
‘Oh, what’s that when it’s at home?’ Elvira replied.
‘It’s a meeting that existed, but also didn’t,’ Mart said. ‘The bracketed U indicates the type of Preparatory Parameters Survey: the unminuted genre. There will be no list of those participating, no labelling title, no statement of results. It happens that I was at this one plus Geraldine Fallows – Baroness Fallows now – Neddy Lane-Hinkton and Lawford Chote. The fact that I, or rather Neddy and I, were included means that this session could not have taken place.’
‘I don’t get it,’ Angela said.
‘It’s a beauty, isn’t it?’ Mart replied.
‘But the diary reports that it did take place,’ Lucy said.
