My English Speaking Union (ESU) Story

I attended a boys’ boarding school in western Virginia for 4 years; an idyllic 1200-acre estate where, in the spring, you could taste the leeks in the milk from the cows kept there. I graduated in June 1967. 

For several years, we had students from British schools through the ESU program, but I didn’t know them and I didn’t think anyone from our school ever enrolled in the ESU program. I was a relatively good student and good athlete. In the spring of my junior year, I was accepted to college based on my graduating with good grades the following year– this was a major relief. Getting into college was a major goal, especially given the politics of the day. 

In the spring of my senior year, the school had a speaker from the ESU. For some reason, I liked the speech and decided to apply; there was no real thought process – it seemed like a good idea at the time. Most of my friends thought I was nuts – defer college, girls, cars, sex, drinking and cigarettes – how could you?? College was happy – “You are the first person to be accepted in two years back-to-back!!” 

So off I go for a year to Eastbourne College, starting with the September term. As I had played football, the school suggested I join the rugby players at Crystal Palace for early practice – sounded good. Had my last cigarette (one could get expelled for smoking at my old school) and got a very short haircut (all football players had short hair), grabbed my suitcase, and took the train from London to Crystal Palace. 

After wandering around like a real twit, I found the sports pavilion and a bunch of guys hanging around – half of whom were smoking; most had medium to very long hair – well-kept – but long; most had bell bottoms; jewelry and short cut boots with heels and zippers. As we faced off, I asked one of them if they knew where I could find the rugby players from Eastbourne College. 

“That’s us – who are you?” 

“I’m Charlie Wilson and I’m looking for John Barr.” 

As in Moses, Exodus 14-21, the group parted and I saw this one kid – long, beautifully-coiffed hair – wavy, long, full of body and very well kept. He was having a cigarette – in fact, his smoking fingers were a most beautiful mahogany color from the smoke coming up his fingers – he held the cigarette with the burning end facing down. The most extreme bell bottoms very tight-fitting at the top, tight-fitting, slightly unbuttoned shirt, short boots with heels and zippers, necklace and bracelets!! Not quite Carnaby Street, but close – facially, he resembled Mick Jagger. Introduced myself – his family had volunteered to “adopt” me while at Eastbourne – to be a family on holidays, etc. Later, Jonnie would admit that the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with the “Yank!” 

So, here we have the crewcut hick from Virginia with all sorts of perceived ideas about people with long hair – it is 1967! – the “Yank” being hosted by Mick Jagger and all his preconceived ideas of a real rube – a “Yank,” no less with zero class! 

Then the coach shows up – everyone keeps smoking!! Hell, if I smoked in front of my football coach, he would have shot me!! We unpack and all meet at the local pub – with the coach!! – don’t remember the pub’s name but they served Newcastle Brown Ale – fondly known as NewKB! A strong, bitter ale – yuck!! Of course, I’m used to American beer - lagers like Budweiser – weak with no flavor. We all got merrily plastered, sang dirty rugby ditties and went to sleep. 

This was nothing like early football practice in Virginia. By the end of the week, we had drunk the pub out of NewKB!! Up next morning – massive hangover - I was faced with a breakfast of baked beans (who ever heard of baked beans for breakfast?), gammon (grisly, oily bacon), fried eggs and fried bread!! Enough grease to make me gag, but maybe settle a hangover! 

After breakfast and clean- up, we go to the playing fields – proceed to run 1 mile, which I had never done before – and especially had never done with a massive hangover. Got sick and didn’t finish!! Off to playing – trying to learn the rules, how to play – the positions - hooker, scrum half, second row, prop – where do these names come from??? 

I later learned (from cricket) that rugby names were quite benighted!! Mick Jagger was the hooker – I was split between playing second row and prop. I liked the game because it was unstructured and free flowing, no stop action and a lot of drinking, singing and irreverence. I was a good tackler. Coach came to me and said that he wanted me to play one real game (outside opponents) on the second side (B-team) and then I could play on the first side (varsity, I must be dreaming – this would be fantastic - like a dream!). Also, by this point, while still the “Yank,” people seemed to like me – Mick and I became best of friends and his family did almost adopt me. 

Sooooo the big day comes, school has started, first rugby games of the season are that weekend. “Seconds” were to play on the practice field at 11am and the “Firsts” on the main field in the middle of the campus at 1pm. “Adopted” family came to watch me – they would then go watch Mick play later. Opening kick-off – we kick off – I make a beautiful tackle except I had my head in front of his legs and the runner kneed me (by accident –– forgot I wasn’t wearing a helmet) on the right jaw joint and cracked bones above (skull) and below (jaw bone) on both jaw joints and my jaw in 2 other places. A little dazed – had made the tackle – played the rest of the game. Did ok! Alright, mom and dad – on the First team next week – think I would be the first American to play on the First team in years, if not ever!! These dreams flew away quickly when I left the dentist’s office that evening with my jaw wired shut for 6 weeks!! Interestingly, the jaw was wired shut, no rubber bands – in an emergency, they would have to cut the wires – after they found a wire cutter!! The dentist said, “If you get sick and throw up, you’ll probably die!!” Bad enough about the rugby, and now this. Never did get my 15 minutes of fame.

This did set off a chain reaction from the School to the ESU, London to the ESU, NY to my parents. Would there be repercussions? My parents were fine. I stayed at the school and had many other wonderful adventures – it might be best not to relate many of these. But my father did get a letter from my housemaster which included the line, “What bad luck he has had in cracking his jaw in his first school Rugger match.”

But school goes on. I am put in a class where the students are practicing for the Ox-Bridge Exams (one entry exam for both Oxford and Cambridge). Class practices by working on previous exams. One section is translating 40 lines of Latin – I am put in this class as I got a 5 (top grade) on AP Latin in the States. Class consisted of taking former Latin test sections as homework, translating it and then bringing it to class. No limits on how long, what resources you used – open book. After 2 classes I realized I couldn’t do more than 2 lines – these were poems, vernacular Latin, love letters, etc. – not the very structured stuff I had studied. My 5 in AP Latin was useless. Left this class – another failure.

So, they stuck me in Economics, which I had never studied before. I loved it. I also took an English course which studied mostly poetry. I’m dyslectic. I loved it. I did pass my 2 “A” levels in Economics and English, admittedly with the lowest passing grade. Normally, students study for 2 years to pass “A” levels – or maybe they just felt sorry for the dyslectic “Yank” with the broken jaw!! When I did finally make it to college in the US in 1968, I majored in Economics and Poetry!! Had a long and good career in international and commercial banking. All because of a snap decision in the spring of 1967 to give ESU a go!

This did set off a chain reaction from the School to the ESU, London to the ESU, NY to my parents. Would there be repercussions? My parents were fine. I stayed at the school and had many other wonderful adventures – it might be best not to relate many of these. But my father did get a letter from my house master which included the line, “What bad luck he has had in cracking his jaw in his first school Rugger match.”

But school goes on. I am put in a class where the students are practicing for the Ox-Bridge Exams (one entry exam for both Oxford and Cambridge). Class practices by working on previous exams. One section is translating 40 lines of Latin – I am put in this class as I got a 5 (top grade) on AP Latin in the States. Class consisted of taking former Latin test sections as homework, translating it and then bring to class. No limits on how long, what resources you used – open book. After 2 classes I realized I couldn’t do more than 2 lines – these were poems, vernacular Latin, love letters, etc. – not the very structured stuff I had study. My 5 in AP Latin was useless. Left this class – another failure.

So, they stuck me in economics which I had never studied before. I loved it. I also took an English course which studied mostly poetry. I’m dyslectic. I loved it. I did pass my 2 “A” levels in Economics and English admittedly with the lowest passing grade. Normally students study for 2 years to pass “A” levels – or maybe they were just felt sorry for the dyslectic “Yank” with the broken jaw!! When I did finally make it to college in the US in 1968, I majored in Economics and Poetry!! Had a long and good career in international and commercial banking. All because of a snap decision in the spring of 1967 to give ESU a go!