I am deeply saddened at the loss of my friend and fellow alumnus
Gus Dudgeon.
Aside from all the music business credits that Gus has to his name there was another
aspect to his life that I shall remember him by. I met Gus “Prince Rhino” for
the fist time at an IDEC conference-taking place at Summerhill School
where both Gus and I had attended as kids, in July of 1999. The British Government was trying to close
the school down and we were there in support.
Gus and I had been corresponding via email for a few months before we met face-to-face.
We hit it off right away. There was a bond between us not only of music but also of the
affect that Summerhill had had on us. What I’m trying to say is Gus is more like an older
bother to me. We were able to spend five or six hours swapping stories of our times at
Summerhill over a “few too many” pints that weekend. Gus shared how he had lived in this
shack with a couple of roommates out by Neil’s house. How one of them had got his wanker
stuck in some machine he had built. I asked him how it was that he had come to Summerhill
and he said, “My dad had run out of options for my education”, so it was Neil’s turn. I
told Gus about how years later we had raided this old shed (his shed) and taken the bedsprings
to make slingshots out of them. I shared the mythological stories about the “shed boys” that
had been past down from the time he had left the school. He said he mostly
recalled, “riding his bike all day just as fast as I could” and told him of the tree houses
I built. So the evening went taking turns telling stories about our days at Summerhill and
drinking suds. It was great fun and very bonding.
Later that night when we ran out of beer we devised a plan to break into the pantry where
the beer was being stashed. You see it was way too late to go into town, as the pubs were
closed and way too early to stop the fun. So first we cased the old sitting room that was
now the panty/bar for the conference. “What do you think Mark, the door”? “No, No Gus we’d
have to break it and I don’t want to damage the place”. We decided on the windows that had
been screwed shut. Paul (another old Summerhillian) gathered his tools from the car while
Gus and I stood around trying not to attract any attention. It was the perfect plan and we
were celebrating our brilliance with each screw that was removed. Then it happened as two
of the elder students came around the corner and there we where with screwdriver and screws
in hand….busted! “What are you guys doing?”, they asked. “You can’t open that window or the
bricks will start to cave”. “You were going to pay for the beer you’d take, right?” Oh my we
were talking fast to get out of this one all the while putting the window back together. Just
as we thought we had escaped via our smooth talking ways some more students came bye and seeing
the toolbox at our feet one of them tore into us something ferrous. “I’m bringing you guys up…I’m
calling a special meeting….you guys piss me off destroying our school you old summerhillians you”
On and on the railing went for about ten to fifteen minutes although it felt like an hour. The
kids finally left and Paul took his tools back to his car. Gus turn round to me saying,” damn,
that was f**king brilliant those kids.” “Yeah and we almost got away with it Gus”, I stated.
“Had we gone to school at the same time Mark I think we would have gotten into a lot mischief”,
Gus exclaimed. I replied, “Yup, and we would have left Paul out of it, the mole”. After catching
up to Paul we all went off to bed.
The next morning the legend of Hewy
, Dewy and Louie was born in the special meeting as Gus slept
in (the billeting basted) and left Paul and me to face the music.
I’ve kept in touch with Gus via email telling him that after that weekend I started
playing drums again (after a fifteen-year hiatus) and he turned me on the Soca music. He was
really jazzed about Soca after hearing it on some island he had visited (the place escapes
me now) while partying it up with Juilan Lennon. He’d razz me about my spelling and punctuation
saying things like “you really are a Summerhillin – you’re spelling stinks”.
I miss Gus and it hurts knowing that I can’t just shoot off an email to him to see what’s doing.
Good bye my Summerhill brother, good bye Prince Rhino. I shall remember you all my days.
Love, Mark
