We know began to think seriously about our first production. Apart from the boys in my school and the girls from one other, I was unaware what other schools could offer, assuming they would co-operate at all. Although I am an optimist, I felt from the evidence that I would get little help from the local schools. The chill wind blowing from the studies of many head teachers was apt to either reduce the temperature of the enthusiast or send up his blood pressure. In my case it was the latter.

Our major problem was rehearsal facilities. I contacted Lady Robinson, our patron and also chairman of the Education Committee. I stated our requirements clearly and asked permission to use any school in the borough, provided head teachers and caretakers agreed. The latter were very important on such occasions. The permission was graciously given, but subsequent events lacked grace.

I had certain plans in my mind and it was my earnest desire to offend no one. Like the man in the fable, I found this an impossibility. If I was to continue with my scheme, I would have to ignore opposition. I was anxious that this first venture should fully represent my aspirations. I wanted as many schools as possible to participate, and wished to employ all who wanted to help.

Accordingly I visualised a show with a large cast. Having to deal with varied youngsters for the first time, I felt a revue-type entertainment would be best. Each item would be a unit and could be given by a group from one school. It could easily be an item they had done before and the difficulty of working with strangers would thus be minimised. Talented groups or individuals could be easily accommodated.

We sent out a circular to schools explaining I was about to cast for our first show. I asked that all children who wished to be considered for a part should contact me giving their dates of birth, schools they attended and particulars of any shows they had been in, and what apsect of theatre work attracted them. I already had a number of letters, but true to childlike exuberance, many contained no addresses. I asked head teachers if they would kindly announce my requirements at Assembly. A few heads did this. More ignored my request. Some, because they thought that participating in our Theatre might interfere with their own productions, tried to dissuade their pupils from joining.

Candidly this annoyed me. At no time would I encourage a youngster to put anything before his own school. My intention has always been that the Theatre should help schools to develop their own drama. Those schools that have co-operated with us would bear witness in our favour on this point. I consider my rule concerning school performances is clear and just. It is as follows.

If one of our members is cast in a school play, then rehearsals and playing dates are his first consideration. I avoid casting him in our production, unless it can be done without interfering with the school production. If I cast someone in our play, and after we have started rehearsals he drops my show for any other, then he is not allowed to participate in another of our productions. There need be no trouble about divided loyalties if a long-term view is taken. Should a member want a part in my production and one at school, and we find production dates are awkward, I am always willing to discuss the situation. The final decision, which I expect him to honour, is left for him to decide.

I asked head teachers to offer an item in the names of their schools. One secondary boys' school offered the old favourite The Dear Departed. There were a few half-hearted suggestions from individuals. That was all. By the time of the scheduled audition I had dozens of names, but little knowledge of potentialities. The press helped by publishing particulars of the audition. Gradually the shape of the show emerged.

My school provided a marionette item. A woman teacher agreed to prepare a tap number. The highbrow will shudder, but I maintain the revue has a place in our work.

The producer of the play at one point evinced a puzzling reluctance to co-operate. Since I cannot endure a hole and corner attitude, I asked him what was biting him. With hesitation he explained he did not relish the idea of another producer interfering with his play. When I assured him I only wanted to time it and make sure the standard was fit for public presentation, he was mollified.

I planned to audition in a school centrally placed in the borough. Discussion took place with the head and the caretaker. Every difficulty was placed in my way. Conditions were stated which made the whole idea impossible. My own head then offered our school hall. My reluctance to use this was because the school was situated at the farthest end of the borough. If we used this venue, many children would have a long bus journey. After considering, I decided this disadvantage as compared with being at the first school. Here I would be at home; there, in a foreign land. So we used our hall.

The evening arrived. I had expected a fair number, but not the crowd which came. There were children-and parents-of every size, shape and colour. I recalled Noel Coward's account of his first rehearsal of Cavalcade, when he looked at the crowd of characters and felt he did not know where to begin. That was just my reaction, yet at the back of my bewilderment was a pulsating ecstasy. Here we were actually beginning. In my harassed state, as I questioned and listened, I detected a not of joy.

A few days before I had been browsing round a music shop and had found an old-fashioned action song called The Coffee Stall. It was a spirited little number with a catchy chorus. I bought it and planned our show around this song.

It took two or three meetings to sort out my cast of sixty. My qualms about rehearsal attendance, remembering the situation of the school, proved unfounded. Few members were poor attenders, disregarding bad weather and darkness with a geniality which was enchanting. My spirits rose. Then rumblings of disapproval began and queries started to roll in.

Are you rehearsing during school hours? What about homework? How do you pick your cast? Is it a fair method? And how about this question in the twentieth century-do you think it quite nice for boys and girls to rehearse together?

Another big hurdle loomed. Our chairman was a militant socialist. His house, where we held our committee meetings, was the Labour Committee Rooms for the Council Elections. One gentleman withdrew his daughter from the cast when we were well into rehearsal because he said he was not allowing his child to indoctrinated with Socialism. I assured him politics were never mentioned to the children. He was angry and adamant finishing the conversation with, 'If I had my way, you would not be allowed to teach in the borough'. Tolerance! Understanding! We are still in the Dark Ages. I assured him I had got politics out of my system years before. His door was banged in my face.

Shortly his daughter met me in the street. Sobbing, she told me she did not want to leave the Theatre. I was deeply moved but helplesss. My hands were well and truly tied.

I felt weary sometimes during those early days. But my wife's encouragement and the sparkling eyes and rapt attention of my youngsters at rehearsals made me feel I must keep faith with them. Here and there in rehearsal would be a flash of genius. I felt those tiny sparks just had to be given the opportunity of expression. No effort must be spared.

Our Education Committee had allowed us two schools for our show. One was my own school, the other was at the opposite end of the borough. We decided to give two performances at each school. Apart from one or two small mistakes all went well. We invited all the Education Committee and most of them came. Quite naturally, they were curious to see if my claims were justified.

I was delighted with the result. We had fairly good houses, and audiences enjoyed it. Whilst I was not ashamed of the product, I was not satisfied. I know are standards today are a thousandfold better. That is how it should be. No organisation, no one, stands still. Progress or deterioration occurs. We have always tried to ensure true progress.

The Education Committee made no charge for the schools. We played to curtains. The few costumes required were made by parents. Props and small pieces of scenery were made in the cellar of a committee member. Teenage girls sold programmes and acted as stewards. The press praised our efforts, and the general attitude was, 'When are you doing another show?'

Our balance showed a profit of over fifty pounds. We have never reached that profit figure since. As the standard of production has improved, expenses have increased.

After the curtain fell on the last evening, we held a rush meeting. We were tired, dusty, but very happy. As I had talked to parents and children in the audience, I had heard several children express their enjoyment and their intention of joining the Theatre.

A few days after the show we received a letter of congratulations from the Education Committee. We felt full of optimism. At our lowest estimate, our teething troubles were behind us. I had proved my main point. The course ahead looked a little bleak, but our spirits were high and we were girded for the fray.