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Maurice Sills, Cathedral Treasure

March 27, 2016
by the gentle author

Maurice Sills in the library at St Paul’s where he wrote the catalogue

If you were to read the staff list at St Paul’s Cathedral, where Maurice Sills is described simply as ‘Cathedral Treasure’, you might assume that a final ‘r’ had been missed from the second word. But you would be wrong. Maurice Sills has been in the world longer than you or I have been in the world – longer, I venture, than anyone reading this article. The truth is that Maurice Sills is over one hundred years old and he genuinely is a ‘Cathedral Treasure’ at St Paul’s.

Travelling to work by rail and tube from his home in North London three times a week, Maurice regularly gives up his seat to what he terms ‘old ladies,’ by which he means women of a generation later. There is an infectious enthusiastic energy about Maurice which he has kept alive through a long term involvement with sport and his delight in the presence of young people.

We met in the Chapter House at St Paul’s but Maurice was keen to take me up to the magnificent library, embellished with luxuriant carving by Grinling Gibbons, high in the roof of the old cathedral. When completed, the shelves were empty since all the books had been destroyed in the fire, but now the library is crowded with ancient tomes and Maurice has catalogued every one.

In this charismatic shadowy place, Maurice was completely at home – as if the weight of his hundred years fell away, rendered insequential by comparison with the treasures of far greater age that surrounded us, sequestered in an ancient library where time stood still.

Maurice – My earliest memory of anything – it must’ve been 1918 – was when I was staying with a relation who was manager of a grocer’s shop called Palmer’s in Mare St, Hackney, while my mother was having another child. They sold provisions – on one side you had bacon, butter and so forth and the other side fruit and vegetables. I can still picture us going down the wooden stairs of the shop into the cellar and, in the cellar, there was an oil stove, one of these with little holes in the top that cast lights onto the ceiling – I can still see those lights there. I worked out from my relations who I stayed with that it was a Zeppelin raid! So that was my first memory of life – those little marks on the ceiling while I was down in the cellar.

The Gentle Author – Maurice, are you a Londoner?

Maurice – Certainly I’m a Londoner, if West Norwood is London, yes. I was born there in 1915 and my baby brother still lives in the same house where he and I and five brothers were born, six of us all together.

The Gentle Author – What were your parents?

Maurice – My father worked in the Co-operative Bank. My mother was purely a mother, with six boys she had no choice but to be a mother! Norwood, in those days, was almost a village. My mother’s family were the local undertakers and everybody knew them. When somebody else opened up another undertakers that caused trouble. My parents got married a few months after my mother’s father died. My mother had to look after him when he was a widower, so she couldn’t get married. That’s how families were in those days, but when her father died that was freedom, so she had a quiet wedding and we were brought up in the house.

The Gentle Author – And what kind of childhood did you have?

Maurice – Being the eldest of six I had a lot of freedom because my mother had enough to do looking after the others – the three youngest boys were triplets. So I learnt to enjoy life. I was encouraged to enjoy sport by my father who played cricket and I became scorer for his team when I was eight. Cousins made sure I knew what soccer was like, so I enjoyed soccer for the whole of my days until lately. I played for my old school boys until I was forty-nine when I then got hurt badly and had to give up. My mother said, ‘Serve you right, you should’ve given up before,’ but I still played cricket until I was demoted to be the umpire because they wanted younger people, they said.

The Gentle Author – How old were you then?

Maurice – About eighty. They often asked me, as an umpire, where my dog was? Well, a blind man has a dog!

The Gentle Author – Did your parents bring you up to London to the West End?

Maurice – No, because we didn’t go far. We had a fortnight’s holiday every year in Bognor, Eastbourne or Clacton – a long way then. Other than that, the only outings I took on my own would be on bank holidays when I went to Crystal Palace where there was always a lot to see, whether it was motorcycle racing, speedway racing, or concerts.

When I was eleven, I obtained a free place at St Clement Dane’s school close to Bush House in the Aldwych, so I used to travel from South London on a tram every day to the Embankment and walk up the road to school.

The Gentle Author – What were your impressions of the city then?

Maurice – One was of The Lord Mayor’s show, which was not always on a Saturday as it is today. We were allowed to go into the churchyard at St Clement Danes and see the procession go by. The other thing which stuck in my mind was that every Christmas, Gamages in Holborn used to have a cricket week where well-known cricketers came, so I would go to obtain their autographs. But other than that, in a quiet way, I suppose I got to know London very well. I had a season ticket to town so, after two or three years, I would go to museums on my own. I was allowed complete freedom.

The Gentle Author – How wonderful for you to explore London.

Maurice – It meant I learnt a lot about it. I went to evening classes at Bolt Court just off Fleet Street. There were lectures on the City of London and summer evenings would be spent walking round to see things we had heard about.

The Gentle Author – Were you a good student?

Maurice – I did all the essays I was asked to do. I kept them til a few months ago when I was moving into an old people’s home and I decided I’d just got to say goodbye to them. I’ve no regrets. It was all wastepaper, it had been in a drawer for twenty years.

The Gentle Author – What age did you leave school?

Maurice – Seventeen. At that time it was very difficult to get a job.

The Gentle Author – This is the Depression?

Maurice – 1932. Like in the world today, it’s not who you are but who you know, and my father knew somebody so I started working. I went for interviews in banks, but I couldn’t pass the medical test. They weren’t very sure about my heart so they wouldn’t take me on. My father knew somebody at Croydon, not too far from where we lived, at the Co-operative there, so I worked at the office from 1932 to 1940, doing clerical work, and playing football and cricket, until the war came and I then went into the Navy for five years.

The Gentle Author – How did your involvement with St Paul’s Cathedral come about?

Maurice – In 1978, when I was at evening class at Bolt Court, a lady said to me at the tea break,‘You’ve just retired, you could come and help at St Paul’s.’ I came for a few months every Thursday and one day I took a school party round. Evidently, they wrote and said they had an interesting time, because the Dean asked me the next day if I could come more often.

The Gentle Author – Did you know the history already?

Maurice – I’d already got the background you see. I went home and said to my wife, ‘They want me to come more often, and she said, ‘Well, why can’t you?’ She was younger than me and was keeping me in the state of life that I wanted. She was kind. She only made one mistake in her life but there we are. She put up with it and suffered me for forty years!

The Gentle Author –  Were you the mistake?

Maurice – Yes!

The Gentle Author – Why have you stuck with St Paul’s?

Maurice – After the Dean asked me and my wife said, ‘Of course you can,’ I took it on and for twenty-odd years I did all the school visits to the cathedral. But eventually they decided that the modern idea was to have an education department which meant they wanted a full-time paid person. I had been working twenty years for nothing and, because I worked for nothing, I enjoyed it – I didn’t have to worry what the other people thought. So I wouldn’t have put in for the new job and, fortunately, the headmaster at the Cathedral School said, ‘If they don’t want you, you can come here every day.’ So then I moved to working in the school.

The Gentle Author – Were you teaching?

Maurice – Helping out in various ways, especially hearing children read and going with the boys to watch them play football and cricket. For the last fifteen years I went every day, until eighteen months ago when I decided to cut it down and now I only go on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But the little children make a fuss of me.

The Gentle Author – How are you involved with the cathedral?

Maurice – In the morning I’m in the Cathedral School but then, after school lunch, I help in the library. One of my jobs is to ensure that we have two copies of every service, I put them all in order and file them away. I look up letter queries for the librarian. When people write to say, ‘I believe my great grandfather was in the choir at St Paul’s,’ I go through the records. Usually they hadn’t, they had sung here but with a visiting choir probably.

The Gentle Author – Do you know the collection well?

Maurice – Oh yes, many years ago the librarian decided we ought to have a list of all the books. And so, in my spare time, for about five years I wrote down on sheets of paper all the books. The ones in Greek were difficult, I just had to copy the alphabet. Those records are kept and the librarian still consults them today.

The Gentle Author – That’s a big achievement.

Maurice – I was lucky I had a librarian who chased me around in good fun and called me rude things, saying, ‘Get some overalls on you lazy so-and-so and get some work done!’

The Gentle Author – Do you like the cathedral?

Maurice – It’s given me a great deal. I’ve walked with school parties up to the top of the dome at least two thousand times, but I can’t do it any longer.

The Gentle Author – When was the last time you went up on top?

Maurice – Oh, probably five years ago. I’ve only become an invalid in the last two to three years really.

The Gentle Author – You don’t seem like an invalid.

Maurice – I’m wearing out. It’s hard work now – I have to make myself come here whereas I used to be dashing here. When I was a schoolteacher, I knew how many days before the next holiday. But here, when the school says they’re away for three weeks, ‘Oh,’ I say, ‘I’m going to miss you. And the school lunch!’

The Gentle Author – Do you have any opinions about Wren’s architecture?

Maurice – Only insofar as I’ve read so much about it that I realise, in my lack of knowledge, what a wonderful person Wren was to do what he did, despite all the handicaps that he was up against.

The Gentle Author – What kind of man do you think Christopher Wren was?

Maurice – Well, he was so gifted at so much, you see, he was brilliant not just in one subject but in many things. And he persisted in what he wanted, even though it wasn’t always easy for him financially. He was a marvellous person to have done it and I realise it was 300 years ago, you know.

The Gentle Author – Three times your lifetime.

Maurice – That’s right and a lot has changed in my lifetime, so 300 years ago it was very different…

The Gentle Author – What do you think are the big changes in your lifetime?

Maurice – One of the biggest is computers, and now I realise my day is up. If I sit on the tube in the morning, if there are a dozen people – six here, six there – nine of them are playing with these tablets and phones. I’m not talking to anybody you see!

The Gentle Author – It’s rare to meet someone so senior, so I want to ask what have you learned in your life?

Maurice – I’ve learnt from experience how wonderful it can be to have sensible friends and a sensible upbringing and a perfect wife. My parents were strict insofar as we were told what was right and what was wrong. ‘I’d rather your hand was cut off than you stole something,’ my mother would say.

I learnt to live – I think – a full life. I’ve enjoyed my sport. How fortunate I have been in life that I have been pushed to do things rather than had ambition. I have no ambition.

When I was ending my time in the Royal Navy a colleague who was a schoolteacher said, ‘When the war is over you would make a good schoolteacher,’ and I said, ‘Of course I wouldn’t – my schoolteachers would laugh if you said that.’ But when the war was over, they were so short of male teachers, they were willing to take almost anybody. The result was my mate made me fill out a form – he pushed me and I became a teacher.

Every Christmas, I hear from about two dozen of my pupils of fifty years ago. When I go to watch cricket at the Oval when the season starts, one of my pupils of 1959, he’ll be there saying, ‘Oh you’re still breathing! We prayed for you every night and you always turned up in the morning despite our prayers!’

(Transcript by Rachel Blaylock)

Maurice Sills – ‘I learnt to live – I think – a full life’

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33 Responses leave one →
  1. March 27, 2016

    What a lovely man!

  2. Barbara Elsmore permalink
    March 27, 2016

    What a privilege it has been to meet with Maurice this morning.

  3. Sarah permalink
    March 27, 2016

    This charming man sets an example of graceful ageing to us all, and – what’s more – he has superb taste in Fair Isle sweaters. Respectful good wishes to him.

  4. Yvonne Eade Kolessides permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Thank you, not only for this piece but for every day..

  5. Carolyn Badcock - nee Hooper permalink
    March 27, 2016

    I’m sitting her saying…….Goodness me! Wow!! Can’t wait to share this story with my godmother next week. She’s only 95 and a half. She recently rewrote the last six chapters of her memoirs, as the publisher had advised her to do. Oh, can’t we learn so much from these magnificent individuals.
    Lovely work, gentle author.

  6. March 27, 2016

    Maurice is a gentleman of the first order who quietly gets on with Cathedral business. His knowledge of the church and life must be enormous. There is a saying ‘you are only as good as the genes you inherited’ its true this lovely man is a one-off, take care please. John

  7. March 27, 2016

    What a wonderful man, a treasure indeed, thanks for sharing his story! Hapy Easter, Valerie

  8. March 27, 2016

    Maurice is far more knowledgeable than he lets on, particularly where the Cathedral is concerned. Having used the ‘Sills list’ when cataloguing in the archives there I can vouch for it! Sadly I didn’t meet Maurice properly but I heard all about him; he really is a treasure.

  9. GLENN permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Beautiful human interest story. Thanks GA. Congratulations Maurice on a wonderful life.

  10. March 27, 2016

    Happy Easter Maurice and you too GA xx

  11. March 27, 2016

    A splendid read for a Sunday morning. What a delightful and impressive man. Thank you both.

  12. Helen Donovan permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Happy Easter.

    Maurice you an amazing man who has led such an interesting life.

    Thank you Gentle Author for sharing such a delightful article on this Easter Sunday, just what I needed.

  13. March 27, 2016

    Maurice is of the generation of my late parents. Reading this brought them back to my mind . I was struck by the similarities in some of the stories . My Hackney mother’s first memory was of a Zeppelin raid and my father used to regularly attend evening classes at the City Lit in Bolt Court. I have his notes from those times – and have still kept them. An evocative account of another world but rooted in a place that still exists.

  14. Linda Granfield permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Oh, I’m so very happy to have ‘met’ Maurice today! What a wonderful man; I’ve learned something from his outlook on life.

    Maddy, my grade school teacher, passed away last month at 102. She, like Maurice, very much lived life–volunteering, Scrabble and card games, an interest in all that was going on in the world.

    She and Maurice and others of that generation–truly special people.
    Happy Easter.

  15. Nicholas permalink
    March 27, 2016

    A remarkable man and a superb piece. Thank you.

  16. Antony Webb permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Happy Easter. An shining example to us all.

  17. Patty/NS, Canada permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Absolutely sweet and charming, a lovely conversation. God bless you, Maurice. Happy Easter!

  18. Catherine Dixon permalink
    March 27, 2016

    I had the very great privilege of knowing Maurice when I was a little girl – he helped out at a local North London Sunday School. It would have been just as he retired. He is truly one of the kindest, humblest, most sincere yet fun-loving people I have ever met. His enthusiasm for life, especially to a child, was utterly infectious and I remember him with the utmost affection and gratitude. So glad to hear he is still so well and so lovely for you to celebrate him in this way. Thank you.

  19. Ros permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Lovely interview – lovely man. Excellent photos too.

  20. Dixie Lee permalink
    March 27, 2016

    A true treasure, as is your interview. Thanks to him and to you for your good works!
    Happy Easter!

  21. Jonathan Rickard permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Wonderful story. Lovely man.

  22. Sue permalink
    March 27, 2016

    What a wonderful gentleman. Thank you for sharing his story with us.

  23. aubrey permalink
    March 27, 2016

    Interviewing at its best.

  24. March 27, 2016

    What a dedicated, delightful man Maurice is…Thanks for sharing his story and observations. His service to the Cathedral, teaching and to the library are very inspiring. Made my day : )

  25. March 27, 2016

    A long and fruitful life. One gets a real sense of modesty. Uplifting stuff.

  26. James Wyburd permalink
    March 28, 2016

    Maurice Sills is a gem – and you, Gentle Author, are a beacon of light to us all.

  27. Teresa Clark permalink
    March 28, 2016

    Thank you for each day bringing a smile to my day!

  28. Jacky Berry permalink
    March 28, 2016

    I worked in the Chapter House for seven years many years ago and I warmly remember this lovely man. He was always cheerful and immensely helpful. He and I have kept in touch and he always sends lovely letters full of all his news. He is always busy and has such a zest for life. God bless, Maurice.

  29. March 29, 2016

    Maurice has enjoyed reading his interview and the comments. He has asked me to thank you, Gentle Author and Commenters, and says:

    “It’s very humbling to realise I have had such an opportunity to work with children and for our Lord Jesus Christ. The one thing that has most affected my life was being made to go to Sunday school and being taught the Bible and shown the love of God and Jesus Christ. This has been at the base of my life throughout and that is why I look forward to my warm body being replaced in the world to come”

  30. Jan permalink
    March 29, 2016

    Mr Sills took a party of children round the Cathedral about ten years ago. From St Chad’s church in Hackney, we were a big group, all ages and interests, his insights into the cathedral and explanations of its work were so memorable. I can still recall ABC a Bishops Chair which he told us was the difference between a cathedral and a big church.
    A truly gifted teacher and a modest man. We were so lucky to have been guided by him.

    He told us he wanted at his funeral too! I hope he has lots more time

  31. Dominic permalink
    March 31, 2016

    I cannot believe you did such a long interview & did not mention Norwich City! Maurice is a huge fan. He is also a big cricket fan. I have not seen him for years – he has not changed!

  32. Diane Haim permalink
    June 12, 2016

    What a wonderful person. Maurice Sills was my headmaster in infant school in the late 1960s early 1970s. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. fond memeories of him and so glad he is so well thought of now. what a brilliant job he is still doing. Bless you Mr Sills xx

  33. John Walton permalink
    July 2, 2017

    With great regret, may I register that Maurice passed away peacefully last Sunday night at the ripe old age of very nearly 103. He was my junior school teacher in 1957 and we have kept in touch regularly since then. He was a wonderful man and I will deeply miss him. For funeral details please contact the Cathedral. (02/07/2017)

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