Henry (Harry) David, Gibbs' 2014–2019 (June 2022)

Harry_Young

The following is a full transcript of the tribute to Harry, written by Matt Smith and read by him at Harry's Memorial Service at the Lancing Chapel on Saturday 15 October 2022:

 

Consider yourself at home.

Consider yourself, one of the family.

We’ve taken to you so strong.

It’s clear we’re going to get along.

Words – and a few strains there on the organ – taken from Lionel Bart’s classic musical Oliver, which was produced at Lancing in November 2014, and featured Harry Young – in his first term at the College – playing the role of Nipper, a member, but of course, of Fagin’s Gang. Frankly he could have played the Artful Dodger there and then, and as I got to know him over those opening weeks and months of his five-year tenure, and as he in turn rehearsed Lancing, many of the song titles seemed to strike a chord as being quintessentially Harry. Food Glorious Food, the rallying cry of any self-respecting teenage boy who’s sneaked many a midweek takeaway order past his housemaster. You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two, one of Harry’s favourites, a number for which he evinced the greatest enthusiasm on stage, no encouragement needed, still less direction. And of course, I’d Do Anything, an exultant blazon of self confidence that would become something of a calling card in Harry’s career here. The Friday night performance of Oliver coincided with a dinner of local head teachers hosted by the Head Master – himself a new boy that year – who thought it would be great fun to have a number from the show performed between courses, preceded by an apparently impromptu invasion of the Dining Hall spearheaded by Fagin’s Gang. When I put this proposal to the boys, Harry’s mouth fell open in wonderment and silent awe that he had landed himself with a headmaster after his own heart and that he was being given nothing less than licence to run amok. I never witnessed the mayhem - for it was all carefully timed for the interval of the performance - as he and his fellow scapegraces leapt from table to table with bloodcurdling whoops and skirls, prompting at least one choking fit, but I do recall Harry’s shining eyes and beaming smile as they reappeared in the Green Room to announce mission truly, joyously and uproariously accomplished. It’s A Fine Life indeed.

And yet it’s the words from Consider Yourself that resonate most, as I consider Harry alongside his Gibbs’ peers: Max, Will, Punn, Seb and Seb, Chris, Cameron, Gray, Roman, Kadir and George, not to mention his many friends in other houses and other years, and other walks of life, so many of you sitting here this afternoon.

Whatever group he was a part of, whether house, class, team, cast, friendship, Harry embodied in himself and evoked in others a sense of belonging: clubbable, companionable, a social and a sociable being. Life imitated art: the zany capering of Fagin’s gang on stage was mirrored exactly by the Gibbs’ gang in the third form dormitories and the fourth form pitts as they sought to master the not so gentle art of living together in something approaching, if not harmony, then at least a spirit of live and let live. And there was undeniably a spiritual side to them – though not perhaps in the way Nathanael Woodard had envisioned. If memory serves, it was Harry who promulgated and championed the legend of the poltergeist called Keef, calling upon Fr Richard to come to perform an exorcism in the Fourth Form pitts. This though was a rare flight of fancy; by and large the group were more down to earth, harnessing the four elements to their every impulse and whim. Inundations from their water fights that would disgrace the fountains at Versailles and put Niagara Falls to shame; after their deodorant aerosol fights the acrid air was heady with Lynx Africa, and if that hadn’t set the smoke detectors off – and it usually had – there was always the box of matches lovingly spirited back from the CCF overnight exercise which would guarantee a small yet satisfying explosion in the wee small hours, first in the pitt and then in short order from the housemaster as sixty boys congregated bleary-eyed and resentful at the fire muster point. A little touch of Harry in the night. Finally, though, those mighty Gibbs’ boys were as constant as the earth, a rich soil fertile with friendships that took root, and blossomed, and bore fruit over five years and beyond – and Harry was essential and integral to that. His coevals cleaved to him, and he was elemental to all our lives.

Consider yourself well in

Consider yourself part of the furniture

It so happens that next summer the Gibbs’ III Form dormitories are slated for significant refurbishment – not before time for to be honest they’ve never quite been the same since they were comprehensively occupied – and I use the word advisedly – by Harry & Co. As we’ve already heard, he wasn’t above trying a spot of refurbishment himself – give him the job and he’ll finish the tools. With Graham and Caroline’s blessing, once that renovation is complete, that area of Gibbs’ House will thereafter be known – and styled – as Youngers, the moniker by which Harry was affectionately known, at once an appropriate designation of its residents, and earnest tribute to one of Gibbs’ most characterful alumni.

Harry was a terrific contributor, vivacious, inquisitive, sharply curious, there were so many interesting avenues to be explored, wells to be tapped, vast reservoirs of potential in him. He lived life deliberately, and intensely; paradoxically he lived it impulsively and tumultuously too, daring, fearless, yet always with purpose, looking for the edge. He showed others what was possible. Sometime belligerent adolescent, chippy contrarian; slowly, slowly over five years, alchemy cooled Harry’s heat of the moment impulsivity, ceding to something more reflective, far-reaching, and profound, whilst simultaneously aspirational, ambitious, entrepreneurial. The classroom was not the natural habitat for this outdoorsman and consummate sportsman, yet he put in the hard yards at his studies, wanted to do well and took pride in doing so, caring deeply about his work being validated by those who taught him. He sought approbation and vindication for his efforts. Ed Watson recalls returning a Business Studies essay that Harry had worked long and hard over but which didn’t receive a grade worthy – in Harry’s eyes – of the endeavour expended. Incensed, two sheets of A4 became snowflakes of A400 in the twinkling of an eye, in front of the whole class. More happily, Gordon Drummond remembers Harry receiving his National Citizens Service award, grinning from ear to ear at the success he had achieved, proud of the fulfilment he felt after a summer engaged in activities, learning and interaction with others, culminating in a community project. Harry was a citizen who made a difference, a bright and free spirit. I am reminded of an at times rueful Harry, glowering in my study, brittle and beleaguered, fragile and frustrated after a setback, yet my abiding memory is of the resilient Harry, who faced down every adversity, dusted himself off, and re-entered the fray, supple, new-minted. His Sixth form years were more secure, as he steadied the ship. And yes, like the Samaritan, he was neighbourly, someone whose first question was not “If I stop to help this person, what will happen to me?” but rather “If I do not stop to help this person, what will happen to them?” Harry always made time for the younger boys in Gibbs’ and many others too: he was instinctively kind-hearted. I wrote in my final housemaster’s report that Harry ended his time at Lancing with his trajectory triumphant, firmly in the ascendant, an impression confirmed by all I have heard of his time at Harper Adams, the opportunities he seized and created for himself, culminating in his placement in South Africa.

Quite a number of us sitting in here today have enjoyed the great good fortune and privilege of visiting that mighty continent that is Africa, thanks to the longstanding links Lancing enjoys with the country of Malawi. On the day of Harry’s funeral, I found myself in the grounds of a small cottage in Mangochi, a place some of you will remember staying at in 2018, looking out over Lake Malawi to the mountains of Mozambique far beyond, foregrounded by fishermen patiently plying their coracles to and fro, quite timeless, a scene that won’t have changed in centuries. A prehistoric hamerkop speculated the shoreline shallows, whilst farther out a pied kingfisher scouted from a convenient reed; above my head a pair of African fish eagles soared on the thermals, keening the air. The garden was a riot of purple jacaranda, and immediately in front of me, an impala lily, a small succulent whose apparently lifeless, dun branches flower pink and white in the African winter. It was in full bloom. There in the warmth of that landscape was life; colourful, abundant, vital, in all its variety – and that too describes Harry.

Graham & Caroline said to me some weeks ago that the family would like to make a contribution towards Lancing’s Malawi Project, as a way of marking the importance of Africa to Harry. The Henry Young Africa Award – as it is to be known – augmented by the College and whatever finds its way into the collection plate at the end – will fund a place on the biennial Malawi Expedition for a pupil who would otherwise not be able to go on the expedition. Africa was a very special place to Henry, a place where he continued to grow into himself, become the person he wanted to be. To enable someone else to experience and be inspired by that continent will be a fitting, and ongoing, tribute to the man we celebrate and remember today.

Consider yourself our mate

We don’t want to have no fuss

For after some consideration we can state

Consider yourself

One of us

 

And you always will be, Harry.

God bless.

 

MJHS

October 2022