GEORGE DENCH (1905 –
George Dench is believed to have been the longest serving chorister in any English parish church choir with no less than 87 years of service. A lifelong Leatherhead resident he joined the choir as a boy of nine and was still a member at his death aged 96. For age reasons he saw military service in neither world war but was an auxiliary fireman during the London Blitz. He devoted his life to working for the community.
Interview date: 8 November 1983
Location: Leatherhead
Interviewer: Edwina Vardey
Rustic early life
I was born at 24 Highlands Road which is quite near the St Mary and St Nicholas parish church which is on the hill. My father was a gardener and as far back as I can remember, he used to walk to work to just beyond Grange Road, Ashtead, to a big house and gardens.
Whose house?
Mr Hue Williams. The house was known as The Uplands. I think they were solicitors or barristers up in London. I think the name still goes on, Hue Williams. Whether it’s the same people or not I don’t know.
How many children were in your family?
There were five and my youngest sister died at the age of two. I had a brother who was about two years older than me, Sidney James Dench, and two sisters. The eldest is Evelyn and she is living in Forty Foot Road, Leatherhead, in the flats. My younger sister is Mrs Gosher [?] and she lives still at 24 Highlands Road. She was born there too. We were all born there.
My mother [was] Elizabeth, known as Eliza. They were Effingham people. My father was a gardener at the vicarage there when my mother and father met and my grandfather was a farmer over on Effingham Common towards the railway junction. Of course in those days there wasn’t any railway. It hadn’t got as far as Bookham. When we went to Effingham we used to have to get up early in the morning and walk from here. All the way. We used to go through the path of the millpond at Leatherhead and then on through the Lower Road to the other side of Great Bookham church. I suppose you would call it a second class road in those days. A sort of roughish road. A little way past there was a pathway which ran through to Little Bookham church. We used to sit down on a little seat which was built around a yew tree – I believe it is still there today – and then we used to have a rest. The path went on to Effingham churchyard because I think in those days the paths went from one church to another. We used to rest there and then walk down the second class road to my grandfather’s.
Would that take you two hours?
I should think so. All that, I should think. But we thought nothing of it.
It wasn’t dangerous?
No. Perhaps we would see a pony and trap coming along, something like that. Of course there weren’t cars and things much in those days and we were lucky if ever we got a lift. Not very often at all. We would spend the day in the farmyard playing about and then in the evening we had all that distance to go home.
Your grandfather didn’t bring you back in a horse and cart?
No. He had a horse and cart, of course. Also just round the corner at a place called Lee Brooks there was another little roadway going across and my mother’s cousin had a little smallholding there. There were two properties. The house was in the larger property and the other one was a small kitchen garden. There were fruit trees all in the orchards and my mother’s cousin used to have to go to Kingston to sell the fruit and also he kept cows and sheep as well. A few months ago I was being given a ride round to some friends in Bookham and they took me over there. We went up to this little narrow road and went up as far as possible. But the road was pretty bad and very wet and muddy. But still the old cart was there in the little cart shed with shafts up, you know, as it used to be. It is still there today. Where the people who ever owned it, owned the property after it was sold, still kept the cart.
Growing up
Lee Brook Cottage belongs to Adrian Estler, the tree surgeon.
[A commoner who lived at Lee Brook Farm, near the Effingham Common cricket pitch. He had a wife and daughter early in the war but the marriage broke up and he was on his own. He had a piebald horse called William which grazed on the common, mostly on Eastcourt, between Wise Folly and the road and sometimes on the other side nearer The Willows.- From Effingham Parish Council]
That’s right. That was the cottage. Sometimes we used to stay there and help pick the fruit.
The cousin was John Carpenter. He and his sister lived there together and then actually through the Carpenter family we were taken one day to Hampton Court Palace to see the palace and the rooms and so on. My Aunt Carpenter told us that one of her relatives was an artist and had painted one of the ceilings there. So we went in of course to see it.
Your sister is an artist, Evelyn.
Yes. She was just amateur. She did watercolours whereas Mrs Bond, her friend, was a sort of companion and worked with her. They did things together at home. She was partly a maid, I suppose. They used to go to Scotland and all over the place, painting. That was right in the early days.
It was a happy childhood.
Oh it was, yes. [But] it was very hard. My father as far as I can remember I think the first money brought home was 15 shillings and then it was raised to a pound when he was working for the Hue Williams. He was the second gardener there.
Your mother worked in the house?
No she didn’t work. She lived at home.
You saw the garden of the Williams house often?
Oh yes. Yes, it was a beautiful; garden and strangely enough at a later date I worked there for a very short time.
As a gardener?
Yes. When I left school I went to work in the office of the School for the Blind but at that time I wasn’t all that well and after a time it was decided that it would be better if I worked outdoors. I took a job in the gardens at Thorncroft Manor. That was owned by the Wilkinsons of Thorncroft, they were merchants. They were wonderful employers. My wife came there from Weybridge with them when they bought the house. She was the head housemaid there. They were very good people and they did quite a lot for the church and all sorts of things locally. I met my wife while there.
Early brush with death
Before I went to school I went down one day with my brother and some other young boys fishing at Thorncroft bridge, the Mole at Thorncroft. The old bridge. I was sitting on a part of the bridge which was like big paving stones and suddenly I went in. Somebody said that somebody or other pushed me. It doesn’t matter who it was. I know who it was. But they pushed me in and I was four years old.
You couldn’t swim?
No. The thing that helped keep me up for a bit in those days we used to wear a little smock – a blue smock with a sort of white pin stripe and that for a little while must have held me up. Mr Dancer, a postman, Harry Dancer, had just passed a moment before to go to Thorncroft Manor with letters. He heard them call out and at first he thought they were larking about but he decided to come back and luckily he did. He saved my life and he was given a Royal Humane Society medal for saving me. He jumped in and saved my life. It was presented to him at the local post office by a Captain Furlong. I can’t just remember whether he was a captain of the army or navy, probably army. He used to live higher up the road from where I was born. There was an upper path, still there’s an upper path there up towards the School for the Blind. He lived there and at that time he was unable to get about. He used to go about in a bathchair. A man who lived in Highlands Road, a Mr Green, used to push him, I remember. He gave the medal. Harry Dancer used to live opposite the library which was the manor.
What happened to you when you got home all wet?
Well I thought I was going to get a hiding but my parents were good. I was put to bed, I can remember that.
Can you remember the feeling floating on the river?
It was fright, I think. Anyhow, I know I was just wet through.
Did you subsequently learn to swim?
No. Later on I joined the church scouts and I plucked up courage, because I was afraid of the water, and went to the baths at the bottom of Bridge Street -there used to be baths – with the intention of learning to swim. But unfortunately somebody pushed me in – that was a silly thing – they pushed me in and that put me right against it. So of course I didn’t learn to swim.
School days near the brewery
I went to school first of all at the Upper Fairfield Road. It was just near Buchanan and Curwen’s. There was an alleyway which went down – probably still does – to the Lower Fairfield Road and it was called School Alley. The headmistress then was a Miss Morley who lived up in Highlands Road up a path. I went there for a time. To get to school we used to go down through the old Swan yard or just adjoining the brewery yard. We used to have some quite good fun watching the brewers’ drays and they used to clean the bottles – the bottle cleaning – that was done by some machine. Partly by hand. I think they had some sort of machine thing there.
Did you ever see Emily Moore? She owned the Swan.
Yes. She lived up at where the council offices are. I can’t remember much about her but I remember the talk about her at the time. We used to watch the coach and horses from London to Brighton that used to come there. I can remember a man named Mr Ginger that lived in Highlands Road quite near me. He used to go down to work with a green apron on. He used to hold the horses’ heads. I believe they called him a post-boy or something in those days – some name like that. Potboy,maybe.
In fact the brewery used to put little pegs like this in after they washed the barrels and we used to get them to give us one or two of those pegs. When we played marbles we used to knock them down.
Many people working there?
Not a great number.
What was the beer like?
It was supposed to be pretty good. Leatherhead Brewery but I can’t remember the name of the beer. Mr James was the manager. He lived in one of the Fairfield Roads, going from the bottom on to the top.
We went to Poplar Road School under Miss Aldridge. There was a Miss Booth, Miss Shields…..
Meeting my wife
I got the outdoor job and took to gardening for a time. Then I met my wife.
What was your wife’s single name?
Denny. Una Dorothy Eveline. She was born at Weybridge.
From a large family?
Only one other. Her sister after the 1914-18 war married a New Zealander and went to New Zealand. That’s partly why, my sister-in-law being out there, that my daughter went.
You married…
In 1928.
The First World War
Before 1914 we had in Leatherhead church scouts and church lads brigade. I belonged first of all to the church scouts and then I went on into the church lads brigade. When war broke out some of the jobs we were given to do were to guard the railway station and the water works, the reservoir and various things like that. Little jobs I suppose that gave us something to do because we were taught to fire rifles. After a short time, when some of our leaders joined up they sent a man from the army who lived in the corner…….. lower down towards the Institute. He was stationed here to look after us. He was an army man and we were attached to the King’s Royal Rifles.
You were quite young?
Yes that’s right. So of course for quite a time we carried on doing things like that until he was taken away at the finish and both lots packed up. My brother was also a member of the church lads brigade and he won competitions at shooting here with the brigade. He joined up and just at the end of the war he joined up into the Coldstream Guards. My father had already been a member of the Coldstreams in the Boer War so he decided to join the second Coldstreams. While there he got on so well that he – there was a guards brigade that used to shoot for the cups, the competitions in the army – and he and another man represented the Coldstreams and then there were two each for the other three.
My brother did so well that with the others they won all the cups one year against everybody else. My brother was made an honorary member of Bisley. After the war had finished he was one of the firing party for the Unknown Warrior’s grave at the Cenotaph.
Unfortunately after he came out of the forces, he had been out to India and he had contracted one of the diseases – malaria or something like that. Anyhow he appeared to be getting better and that and he was married and went to live at Haslemere – he went to Grays Wood which is just near – and he worked for the post office there. He carried on his shooting and won cups and things both for the post office and also for the British Legion there. One Sunday he went out firing and he got 99 out of 100 on that day and he came back and he was suddenly taken ill. He went into hospital and died. They said he had evidently caught something in India and that finished him. His family is still down there.
So you didn’t actually go to war?
I didn’t strangely enough for that reason. I wasn’t quite old enough you see.
Joining the Scouts
I was approached by the Rev Vivian St Clare Hill whose father was the head of the School for the Blind [Rev James William St Clare Hill, principal from around 1905 until the 1920s] and he said he intended starting Baden Powell Scouts in Leatherhead. Would I be interested to come in and help? He had heard that I had been in the other scouts before. This was in 1921. So I said I would be interested and his brother was interested too also Mr Burnett, Joan Burnett’s father. So we met one evening at the Institute. They had already advertised that there was going to be a meeting. There were 36 boys picked and Mr Douglas St Clare Hill was going to be an assistant scoutmaster and so was Mr Arthur Burnett. From the 36 they picked four patrol leaders of which I was one. So we started things going and eventually after a little time when we got to understand everything that was required, we gradually got bigger. That was the first Leatherhead troop. I’m not sure how many….I know there’s an 8th Leatherhead today because that’s the church troop. I have some things here because I was invited to their 50th anniversary to write something about it. I wrote something and have little reminiscences. (Father Vivian St Clare Hill was a Roman Catholic priest in Ashtead from 1955 to1977. Douglas was his brother.)
Joining the choir
In 1914 I was at Poplar Road School and I used to sings solos – right at the start. My voice didn’t actually break at all strangely enough. I carried on. I used to sing solos and duets at school – duets with the Nelly Hewitt. At that time I was trying to get into choir which was difficult because there were 24 boys. I wish there were 24 boys today. They are difficult to get today. But there were 24 boys and the main pews in the choir seats were full and the other boys used to sit up between the choir stalls and the altar. When I joined I sat up there.
That was under Rev Hobson?
That’s right. The choirmaster in those days was a Mr Webb. He was the organist and choirmaster and he was also a music teacher at St John’s School. He lived at a house just near the Institute in Church Road, the Chestnuts….we had quite a strong choir in those days.
Could you read music?
Yes, fairly well.
Do you play an instrument?
I don’t. That’s the one thing. We couldn’t afford to have a piano or anything in those days but I was fond of music. I still sing – that’s 69 years isn’t it? I sing bass. I don’t sing solos now. I stopped singing solos about two or three years ago because I had been in hospital.
You haven’t lost your voice?
No. It was through the choir – it was very difficult in those days to get into the operatic society because there was only one I think at Kingston and Guildford. I think Corny [Cornelius] Hooker was the musical director of the one first of all at Guildford. I think it was something to do with railway in those days….When it was time for my voice to break when I was 16 it hadn’t broken so instead of breaking away they suggested I sat behind and then see whether I went on to be a tenor or a bass. Apparently I was a sort of baritone. I was singing baritone solos then. There was a Mr Karn who had two garages in Leatherhead, he used to sing bass. There were well known people in those days members of the choir. Corny Hooker’s two sons came in when Mr Webb died and they were both tenors and we had what was called I suppose a counter tenor…. a high voice …..it was his son in law. He had a beautiful voice. We used to sing solos – I sang baritone solos – and the music was really tiptop.
What was the most ambitious thing they sang?
The Crucifixion and all those sort of things. Stainer. Yes I sang the main solo in that with …Bill Jarvis was the tenor and I was the baritone. Of course we sang all sorts of other things in those days. The church in those days used to be for morning and evening. Unfortunately today although we get a good congregation in the morning we don’t in the evening. Which I think is very sad really. I think possibly because parents of today go more to take children out Sundays to the seaside and all that sort of thing. In our days we had to go to church and we used to go about three times a day. It didn’t put me off at all. I’ve seen a good many vicars over the years. The farthest one I can’t remember much about but I think he christened me. That was the Rev Utterton. Then there was the Rev Nash, I think. I’ve got a list over there. Then the Rev Hobson, Rev Page, Canon Vaughan, strangely enough. (Frank Arundel Page was vicar from 1944 and succeeded by Rev Ball in 1959.)
Seeking employment
Did you go on as gardener?
I did for a time until war broke out. I left Thorncroft Manor because I wanted more money and couldn’t get it there at that time because they had quite a number of gardeners. I went to work at another place in Leatherhead up in Reigate Road and stayed there for a while and tried to get more money of course. When I couldn’t get more I spoke to the secretary of the Leatherhead Building Company who was a member of our church, Mr Arnold. A man next door was also a member of the company. I went with the idea of becoming a bricklayer and I was going to be apprenticed. I stayed there for about five years and then things got so bad that the Leatherhead Building Company looked as though they were going to pack up. I was lucky to be kept on until one of the last. They were training me for it. There were no other sort of jobs about then and eventually I had to be put off.
Well in those days one had to go to the employment exchange and I was told that I had to see a magistrate or the parson to get papers signed. I decided to go to the Rev Coleridge. I went in to see him and told him that I was looking for a job and he said to me, well I know somebody that wants a gardener. Have you done some gardening? I said I did do. I’m quite interested in gardening. Oh yes, he said, I know somebody that wants a gardener but he wants a chauffeur-gardener. He said can you drive a car? I had driven a lorry in a field. You know for the building company I used to get into the lorry and drive it sometimes. I said I know a bit about it but I wouldn’t say I can drive in that sense. He said, oh wait a minute, you stop here. I was in the study. I’ll go through to the phone and see if I can get hold of Rev Canon Downes.
So he got through to him and he said I expect you know George Dench in the choir, he wants a job. He said something about he has done a little bit of driving but I don’t know much about it. He said, yes, I’ll get a message to him. He came back in and said I’ve arranged for you to see him about 12 o’clock when he comes from the school over to the house. So I went up to him and saw him in his study and he asked me if could drive a car and I said no, I’ll tell you straight that I have only driven a lorry but I said I can soon learn to drive. He hesitated and then said to his wife well I think perhaps we will give him a chance. So he said I’ll ring up my garage and see if I can make arrangements for you to go over to learn to drive. So he rang up the garage at Ashtead and he said after talking to them, I’ll get him to come over to you and he can go over for a month to learn to drive. I did.
I went down then to the exchange and told them that I could have a job in a month’s time. I said I want to take it and you can’t give me a job here, there were over 400 waiting ahead. So I said I’d like to take that job. They said if you take that job we won’t be able to give you any money. I said, oh well. They said you can have money for this week but we will have to get in touch with the authorities After about a couple of days I had a letter come asking me to go to Sutton in front of a board of referees or something. They gave me a railway ticket to go. When I got there I had to go in front of four people sat there, they asked me all about it and I said you can’t give me a job. They said if we can give you a job you wouldn’t be able to take it if you are prepared to take this other job and I said you can’t give me one. I’m just beginning to buy my house. I was married and I was already paying the mortgage. They said we can’t help that. I’m afraid we can’t do anything about it. I told Canon Downes about it. I was going to work for him. He said well look, I should be paying for you at this garage and I can’t pay you for two. ……
In the event, George was eventually employed at builders merchants A G Nunn and then Godwin & Shiel’s ironmongers shop in Kingston Road, Leatherhead. He later became manager of the shop, working there until he retired. In the book Over the Bridge, author Brian Hennegan describes the shop as selling “almost anything” from door locks to bicycle repair kits, from seeds to fireworks and airguns and rifles to clothes lines. George Dench was said to have been “lord of all he surveyed”. He and his wife Una had one daughter, Mary, who lived with them in Copthorne Road until she emigrated to New Zealand in the late 1950s. In 1978 George and Una celebrated their golden wedding anniversary with a three-month visit to New Zealand to see Mary and meet her husband Burton and their granddaughter Patricia for the first time. Una died in 1983.
George William DENCH, born Leatherhead on the 17 November 1905. Died 22 August 2001 in East Surrey.