Laurence Gretton
Laurence died on Christmas Day. Peter Hill has provided this appreciation.
Laurence was a Bushmen legend. In 2009 he took his 800th wicket for the team – in his 58th year of playing. Nearly twice as many as any other bowler.
He started playing back in 1951. He was one of three sons of George Gretton, a founder member of the Bushmen together with Hugh Greene, and later to be head of the European Service in Bush House. I recall from meetings in the early 60s that he was, like Laurence, a man of few, but well-chosen, words.
The scorebook, still preserved, for a match in 1951 at West Chiltington, near Pulborough in Sussex, shows them in sequence as E.Gretton, F.Gretton, L. Gretton and G.Gretton. None of them scored a single run. One of them, unspecified, bowled a few overs. We were thrashed and the fixture was not renewed. Maurice Latey observed: ‘they were at that time little more than knee-high’. Laurence at the time was 13. Francis later went off to California, though often returned to play for the Bushmen.
With his easy run-up and fast follow-through Laurence could bowl many overs, mostly to a length, and swinging the ball just enough to worry the batsman. His best figures were 8-22 (Francis once took 8-14) and he got a rare hat-trick in 1974 at Herongate. In the seventies he twice took more than 40 wickets in the season. His preparations in the dressing-room for action on the field sometimes caused amusement – but what did it matter when he could still get out and take a few wickets at 70? He and Francis also had limited navigational skills, and once in France, though starting out in convoy, managed to arrive an hour after everybody else.
He became a close friend of many Bushmen, including Mark Jones, with whom he worked at BBC Archives. Laurence had also done legal work, and in the late 60s was legal adviser to the Board of Trade on the Films Bill, when the Labour minister in charge was Mrs Gwyneth Dunwoody. He also translated German legal documents.
Laurence was always a North London person. He went to Highgate School, and then on to Balliol College, Oxford, where he read Greats. So his knowledge of languages – taking on board Latin and Greek – was considerable. He also knew his cricket history and had a set of Wisdens in his house.
He was interested in the visual arts and practised both sculpture and painting. He particularly liked the work of John Minton. He held a small exhibition of his own works – mainly in water colour pencil, and of modern buildings – in a private house in Hampstead. He and I would now and then exchange watercolour postcards from various foreign beauty spots. He was fond of Italy and its architecture. He also took an interest in politics and dabbled with UKIP, which at one time reflected his views about Britain’s membership of the EU. The Daily Telegraph sometimes published his letters. He held forceful views, though quietly expressed, and he had an ironic sense of humour.
Laurence in later years began to suffer from short-term memory loss (though still able to recall Bushmen escapades from decades earlier). He had help with this, but found himself in and out of hospital for other ailments. He died in the Hepatology ward of the Royal Free Hospital on Christmas Day. He was 80 years old. He never married. He remained loyal to his disabled sister Ann, enabling her to live a semi-independent life over many decades.
Peter Hill
From Fred Emery:
I too am very saddened to hear of Laurence’s untimely death. What a character he was! As occasional stand-in behind the stumps I had as much difficulty as the batsman with his late swing! And so much enjoyed his often philosophical conversation — however far out, like Nietzsche (?), he sometimes was! A privilege to have known him. New Year’s greetings to all Bushmen Fred
From Chris Capron:
What sad news !
I had no idea tat Laurence was ill and am therefore shaken and shocked to learn of his death. What a character he was – while the Bushmen cricketing history will always record his phenomenal haul of wickets and a considerable number of runs over six (?) decades, his scholarship and general knowledge which he often seemed to do his best to hide were equally impressive. When I first met him (Bushmen v Navestock circa 1960 or 61 I think) he was a high-fllying young Barrister at the Board of Trade following his first class degree at Oxford. However he was always unambitious and absolutely unimpressed by the notion of a ‘successful career’ and since fairly soon leaving the Civil Service (bored by its bureaucracy) I’ve known him to be a Local Council tree lopper and, if memory serves me correctly, a minicab driver, an artist ( I have one of his watercolours on a wall in my home), an unpaid legal adviser to his friends and with a very impressive record at pub quizzes – with a wide knowledge that included classical mythology and the pop music scene as well as details of cricketing and sporting history. I remember him astonishing Roger Bannister with his precise knowledge of athletics records. In recent years I’ve mainly met him for lunches and funerals. For both he frequently arrived late by bicycle with a ruck sack on his back. I’m delighted that Peter has mentioned the care he took of his disabled sister whom he lodged in his house for many years. As with everything else he was always modest about this although it must in fact have been a considerable burden. For me knowing Laurence has been a constant source of amazement, amusement and pleasure. Like many other Bushmen I’ll very much miss him.
From Michael Cockerell:
Very, very sorry to hear about Laurence. And thanks Peter and Hilary for what you have written about him.
Lawrence was as still a very good cricketer when I first played with him in the early eighties – a fine bowler and a v useful batter — tho he did not so much call for a run as open a negotiation.
Laurence was also extremely well read, with an often amusingly oblique take on the world (tho of course he was Righter than Right, albeit not in a racially nasty way). I will miss him very much.
Best wishes for a happy New Year
From Chris Ancil
This is such sad news – Laurence was such a nice man to Kate and I.
We had great laughs with him and he was kind and told us good reflections on life.
Please keep us both informed with information on the memorial – which I hope we can attend.
From John Whitehead (current Captain)
Thank you Hilary. Very sad, unfortunately I never knew him in his playing days. Nice eulogy from Peter.
Best
John
From Alastair Lack
Sad news indeed, but thanks for letting Bushmen know. Yes, we’ll all have many fond memories of Laurence.
All the best,
Alastair
From Will Cockerell:
Thank you for this, fascinating stuff.
Have shared this with Andy and Peter:
Have found the blurbs in my book. It was classic Laurence really. I mentioned one day when driving to a Bushman game how difficult I was finding it to really get inside the mind of Abebe Bikila, his strategies, personality etc… he was a real enigma and so little was known about him personally.
Cool as you like Laurence said in that laid-back manner: “I think my dad interviewed him once.” Wow, an incredible piece of luck, but as you can imagine, getting hold of that interview was a huge ask. It took Laurence around a year, but by jove it duly arrived at my door and was pure gelignite. It completely revolutionised the chapter on Bikila with all sorts of unique copy and insight; and all due to one passing remark on the way to a game! Lovely stuff.
Laurence was an enigma, inside a mystery, wrapped in greying flannels. An encyclopaedic mind, and otherworldy in that way of the intellectually gifted, it’s little surprise that he wasn’t suited to the murky waters of the law. But what tempted him into them in the first place? In some ways he was the yin to the yang of his brother Francis. The latter is all nervous energy, while Laurence was calm and rather contemplative. When I started playing in 1987, he was a canny batsman who could nip and tuck his way to a useful thirty odd, and a deceptive bowler who would run in slowly and swing it away nicely, but then cut one back off the seam just when we needed a wicket. And he did this with no fuss, no agonies over field placement, no complaints about how many overs he was allotted, no groans about denied appeals, and if he said anything to the batsman it would be an admiring “well played” or “good shot”. Then in the pub afterwards, we’d both enjoy a beer and a bar of chocolate. In the later years of his playing career, I would always give him a bowl and he would invariably give me back a wicket, having kept one or even both his jumpers on for the spell. He’d field in gully, and inscrutably bear the brunt of comments from less naturally talented players about his fielding. Over the years, as he aged along with the rest of us, he seemed to fade into the long grass and the last time I saw him he was a solitary figure on the boundary, having come to watch a match, perhaps to remember past summers, but unselfishly to support the team that he loved, which had been a great part of his life.
I’ve been devastated by the news Stateside in Los Angeles. I hope you don’t mind my posting here. .. I was close to Laurence for many years and came to my maiden Bushmen match in 1972 with Francis and George Gretton on my first visit to England from San Francisco. George Gretton then lived in Kirby-le-Soken in Essex. Unfortunately, I was allergic to the English countryside, so I saw many matches thru a haze of antihistamines that first summer season.
Laurence and his good friend Roger thereafter visited me in SoCal in 1975 having survived driving Francis’s VW bug down the Calif. coast. They then withstood my grand tour, including the all-you-can-eat buffets in Las Vegas and a marathon drive thru Death Valley where there weren’t any pubs.
I visited Laurence several times over the years and tagged along on many cricket tours (Sir Hugh’s, Dorset, Mr. Dilkes, et al) extending into the 80’s. I fondly remember many of the players I met (including Maurice!) and know how much cricket meant to Laurence. Underneath the at tImes cynical facade, he was deeply sentimental and kind.
He gave me remarkable tutelage and advice before any of my trips onto the Continent or to India. And he knew every last street in London and what time the trains and buses on any line ran. He gave brilliantly wry answers to my silly questions. Once, after I’d asked him to identify the regional accent of some fellow on TV, he informed me, not missing a beat, that it was “a Midlands banker’s accent.” (I had no idea if it was true or he was having fun.) Another time, upon picking me up at Victoria Station and eyeing my large suitcase, he asked if it contained my “many evening gowns.”
I have 46 years of letters and cards, many detailing the cricket tours. Of course, all the birthday and Xmas cards were unique finds only Laurence could have unearthed. Looking at the stash of letters today, the only mystery to me is how and why such an extraordinary individual ever graced my life. Someone like Laurence is quite irreplaceable to anyone who really knew him. Certainly a large part of my heart is gone.
Thank your for such a wonderful piece Alana, lovely to read.
Thank you to everyone who has left memories on here. It’s lovely to feel the gentle impact Laurence has had on us all across many years.
I remember the first time we played together in 2005 against a team called Nutley Hall (I think Howard had figures of 8-8-0-3 that day). If I remember correctly, we bowled them out for 50 odd and they took out their frustration by bowling bouncers at our batters’ heads. Of course, Laurence, bagged a wicket or two that day.
Over the next decade I became very fond of Laurence and any time spent in his company (on or around a cricket pitch or in a bar in Aldwych, Dorset or overseas) was something to be cherished.
The last time I saw Laurence was at my wedding on the Wirral in 2014. Elora and I had a big Hindu ceremony and I remember sitting on the stage in front of a packed room doing my best to follow the proceedings being delivered in Sanskrit; 20 minutes into the ceremony Laurence appeared from a doorway dressed in his ubiquitous beige zipper vest; he offered a swift subtle wave and warm confidence building smile before slipping into the crowd.
I will really miss him and send love to Sally and Frances.
Apologies to Francis for mistitling him, Frances!
Laurence Gretton
70 years down the leg-side or ‘It’ll be a different story next week’
It was nearly 50 years ago that I first met Laurence: Navestock, Sunday 11th May, 1969. This was my first Bushmen match and it started me on a life time love-affair with the Bushmen. I remember Laurence being a bit retiring, modest and quirky with an intriguing mind – there was no hiding that! We gradually became friends, although not in the conventional sense – there was nothing conventional about Laurence but his company was the best tonic ever. I always felt uplifted after a session with Laurence and so lucky to know him: he was witty, amusing, and had a unique and original take on everything. More than anything, though, I admired that extraordinary, even bizarre intellect (and was very envious of it, too). He was wonderfully well read, particularly in the arts and history and had an encyclopaedic mind of the most obscure information. He was certain to win Who Wants to be Millionaire but on the one time he appeared he stumbled over a question about the fat content of different creams. This was rather ironic as his life-time diet was one of cream-based desserts.
Cricket was probably Laurence’s greatest passion and on the cricket field he was a generous and honourable sportsman. He could be perverse and Bushmen captains never quite knew how to handle him. Ask him for quick runs and he’d poke around for ages; ask him to play for a draw and he’d smash the ball all around the field with gay abandon. He’d infuriate captains by turning up at 3 o’clock for a game with the rejoinder ‘sorry, thought it was a 2 o’clock start’. But he was a talented cricketer and his 50 scored in about 20 minutes before tea at Shoreham was just about the best Bushmen innings I’ve ever seen. As far as I’m concerned, his name would be one of the first to be pencilled in at the top of any Bushmen team sheet. His prowess on the cricket pitch strangely didn’t quite transfer to other sports. While he was a loyal and ever-present over 13 years for the Bushmen soccer team he wouldn’t mind me saying – although he’d come up with a rather surreal explanation for it – that his distribution was akin to that of a pinball machine. He was a keen and fearsome skier but would be marked down on style and, possibly, fashion-sense. I once went horse riding with him but he couldn’t get any of the horses to move, not until one bolted and dumped him into a patch of nettles. He got up, brushed himself down and quipped: ‘I need a faster one’.
In many ways Laurence’s ‘middle’ life remains a mystery. His only ‘real’ career as a barrister with DTI ended in his 30s with a snooker cue and case of wine. He might have hurried away sooner if he’d realised he was sharing a room with a man who was to become BA’s CEO. Some Bushmen theorised that Laurence was a spy as he was so often out of the country whenever there was an international crisis. A more unlikely spy it is difficult to imagine, although that adds some credence to the possibility. My own view is that he was just happier in an unstructured world without deadlines and responsibilities where he could dabble in his artistic interests (and which left him free to care for his partly handicapped sister).
Part of Laurence’s charm was that he did live in another world. It was a peaceful, timeless, old-fashioned, gentle and non-confrontational world. It suited his character well. He was one of those unlucky people who never had a computer that worked, he never quite understood the concept of time and he wouldn’t accept that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line. He would have been an O&M expert’s nightmare. Only Laurence could go to hospital and come back saying that he had a broken bone in his foot but it didn’t matter as most people didn’t have that bone anyway, only Laurence could arrive late at a burlesque show and stumble across the stage as the lights dimmed while everyone was expecting a stripper, only Laurence could cut a piece of wall paper into tiny bits before pasting it. Only Laurence……..
Laurence was always very coy about his age, but I managed to find out when it was just in time to throw a 60th birthday party for him. After speeches from various Bushmen, it was Laurence’s turn: ‘I left the DTI 25 years ago because every year on my birthday some damn fool would throw a party. ‘ And sat down. Just brilliant, just Laurence.
Laurence enriched my life like no other and the treasure trove of priceless anecdotes and memories that remain is undoubtedly one of my most privileged possessions. Laurence was undoubtedly a one-off; they broke the mold when he was born.
I am very glad to have known Laurence (an adornment to our former College) and to have played quite a few matches with him. I especially enjoyed his murmured irony. Many fine tributes above have given added knowledge and insight about a brilliant enigmatic Bushman.
I’m no Bushman unfortunately, but would like to add a story about our late friend Lawrence. which all you Bushmen may be unaware of.
We shared digs in our last year at Balliol, somewhere up the Woodstock road. Upon graduating we had to decide what do at least for a summer holiday, that was 1962. We shared the crazy idea of going to Zanzibar by motorbike. Seriously of course, so we went down to a second hand motorbike shop near the Oxford railway station, and each bought an elderly BSA 500cc machine, for ten pounds. We then stripped them down in the front garden of our digs to prepare for the great expedition. We set off after lunch with his father in London, but on Putney Bridge Lawrence’s exhausts pipe fell off. However armed with some spare wire, that was easily fixed. We steamed happily across Belgium and Germany and headed down to Venice, where Lawrence had a date with an amazingly beautiful Burmese young lady. Our rendezvous was to find her at the wind of the last carriage of a train due to leave Venice at a certain time one evening – if we were late she’s would be gone. Unfortunately travelling down the Dolomites we had sustained mechanical and electrical problems, and ended up crossing the causeway into Venice with the aid of a torch light compensating for defective headlights. But, we triumphed. The Burmese beauty was sitting there in the train, and we got her off it just it time. And then we had to plan for the night. I chivalrously lent my camp bed to Lawrence for his Burmese beauty, and I slept elsewhere on a stone bench instead on San Marco’s square. The following day the Burmese beauty left us, and I cannot report any more news of her. I always wished for him that they had lived together happily for ever after. Was it the Lady, now leader of Burma? Can’t say for sure but the looks and timing fit.
But now back to the expedition. We spluttered on our way through Yugoslavia with recurrent engine troubles. Lawrence’s bike finally gave up the ghost in the middle of Macedonia, and we slept in a field of maize. Only to be woken up by a severe sound of engine and threshing – a combine harvest was about to harvest us too. However the kind farmer stopped and even gave us a bit of money fo a good breakfast.
We separated temporarily, as I went on to Thessaloniki by bike, while Lawrence took the train. Meeting again there we managed to buy a copy of the Times at the railway station, where we learned that Lawrence had got his first. In Athens we had to decide what to do with the single bike left. We decided to sell it, and this led to the hilarious experience with a young Greek guy testing it. Since Lawrence could speak Ancient Greek but I could not we all three got onto the BSA and charged up and down the hills of Athens. We sold very profitably for fifty pounds. At this point we decided to separate, but Lawrence went on by boat and rail and hitch hike all the way to Zanzibar, while I went to Morocco.
I stayed in contact off and on with him over the years, but never learned what happened to the Burmese beauty. Maybe his brother Frances (aka Black Fred) knows.
Michael Emerson (brother of sometime Bushman Robin)
Michael Emerson: Perhaps the name Mamonie?
Michael, that’s absolutely wonderful stuff. One just wants more. Let’s hope that one day we’ll discover Laurence’s lost diaries in someone’s attic….
It reminds me that on our cricket tour of Kerala, Laurence rented a motorbike one day.
‘How was your bike trip, Laurence?’
‘Oh, OK, but the bike caught fire’.
I can’t quite remember but I recollect that the owner spent the rest of the day remonstrating with Laurence after which Laurence paid him off for a new bike. He was greatly amused by the whole episode.
I showed these tributes to a friend in Australia who’s only response was: You’ve got to make a film about this guy.
‘Laurence of Kentish Town’?
Thanks for the lovely stories about my uncle.
All his friends are welcome at the memorial gathering in North London in the afternoon of 27 February – do contact Bill and Hilary for details.
Laurence supported the RNIB – if you’d like to donate in his name, see justgiving.com/gretton
So sad to go back to the box of letters and attempt a read. Too difficult, the words have so much more import when the person is no longer here.
So, dear Laurence, here is my last to you. Such happenstance when I rang the wrong bell that Sunday, in the early seventies. How startled I was when you opened the door, looking much like you had been dragged unwillingly from wrestling a belligerent stanza. You were so charming, and handsome, how could I resist later, when you suggested I join you for a glass of red? Of course you realised from my accent that I was Australian, asking if I was interested in cricket. You were delighted to hear that in fact I was, and had grown up across the road from the WACA in Perth and spent the summer holidays and weekends serving drinks and tea to the players. I described how, when big matches were on and it began to rain at night, that the curator would ring our house and my brother and I would have to dash over in our pyjamas to help haul the covers on. I described my autograph book, begun when I was about eleven, and all the famous names in it. You said you would like to see it one day. You told me about the Bushmen and that you had played for them since you were eleven! So that is how we began. Cricket talk and red wine. What a day!
Looking back, so many wonderful times, and fun… the ride in that tiny car on the way back from cricket at Bury St. Edmunds, the three (!) other fellows in the car singing hilariously all the way back. The cottage in the Cotswolds, Glyndebourne, the Sussex Downs. I loved our days trawling the markets while you added to your early postcard collection and occasionally purchased me another folding hand-fan, my favourite still, the emerald peacock from The Embassy Club.
But I had to return to Oz. Eventually, swatting the tyranny of distance aside, you made it for a visit. You rented a car from “Rent-a-Wreck” and took off travelling (I had to work). The farmers you met taking you to their hearts, hypnotised no doubt by your wit and your very proper English accent. How lucky were they that the bomb car clapped out at their gate? And then, intrepid you in dusty shirt-sleeves and a sort-of beard, returning to my house, having travelled in a ‘ute’, your new best friend – a burly shearer still smelling of the shed, and still swilling beer at the wheel. I think he fell in love with you too!
But our lives took different paths, the decades intervened. You visited Australia again and I came to England but…
these last few years it has only been letters and phone calls. However, such future plans we mapped out! Just a few months back we were on track for an extended April get-together in London. You assured me your house would be tidy… not that I would have cared, I just wanted to see your art and sculpture. And now… simply… goodbye.
Thank you – dear, sweet Laurence, you filled my heart with your quiet passion. It will remain.
Anna. 42 S, 147 E.
p.s. I have forgiven you your hurtful but apt witticisms regarding our abysmal cricket team.
Having played for the Bushmen a few times over the years, and been on a handful of tours with them, I would like to add a couple of sentences to the wonderful comments about Lawrence. I found him one of those people that if you were in his company you could only smile, a joy to be around. His cricketing advice (and boy did I need some) was always right. But he was not the best person to have to follow in a car, as I found out trying to follow him to a cricket ground in Suffolk. I don’t think he looked in his mirror once as I got stuck behind a tractor and never found the pitch. I only have happy memories of him.
Anna, that is such a beautiful, poignant and touching tribute to Laurence and so 3-dimensional. I can just see him leaning on a dusty ute with a tinnie in hand going through a bag of lollies……. Funny to think here I am on the other coast (36S, 150E, Bermagui, NSW) going through many of the same emotions as you. Even though it’s nearly two months now they never go away. We must have met in the early 70s when you were over, although I don’t think I was in the ‘tiny car’ coming back from Suffolk. Some of us had to make sure we got back to work on a Monday morning…… The first time I came to Oz Laurence sent me down to see you from Perth where I was playing cricket. But I never found you. When I returned to UK and told Laurence he said ‘Oh, no, I don’t think she’s there any more……’
As Alana said in her tribute, how come we were so lucky that someone as extraordinary as Laurence touched our lives???
Bill Latey has provided these words:
Laurence Gretton, a Bushman Memoir
I’m honoured that Nick has asked me to speak this afternoon. I am grateful to have known Laurence and the Grettons for many years through our Bushman connection.
This started in my boyhood in the 1950’s when, on a number of Spring days, the Lateys visited the Grettons’ home in Cloncurry Street for Boat Race parties. We would have lunch and make the short walk to the embankment in Bishop’s Park to see the start before rushing back to watch the rest of the race, on the BBC, of course!
Most adults smoked in those days and snuff taking was a minority activity. I watched with childish fascination as George, Laurence’s father, indulged in this apparently pleasurable but somewhat strange habit, always concluded by sneezing into a snuff taker’s handkerchief, beautifully coloured.
In those days there were few cars around and certainly none belonged to the Lateys. We lived not far away in Earl’s Court and a kindly George would drive Maurice to matches with young Laurence and occasionally me, as passengers. I recall the drive to Great Missenden, a Bushman fixture for many years. Motoring in those days took place at such a steady pace that drivers were easily distracted by inn signs. A number of pubs on the way sold the celebrated beers of Benskin’s Watford brewery.
So it became necessary, in the era before drink driving laws, for George and Maurice to call in and sample a pint in one or two of these welcoming waypoints. But not for long! The takeover of Benskin’s by Ind Coope with its indifferent brew did much, not only for Bushmanly sobriety but also for their timely arrival at matches.
I’ve read the tributes to Laurence on our website. They have made me think of him as a gemstone whose many facets are not all visible at once. Among these tributes, we have been reminded by Peter Hill of Laurence’s glorious cricketing career. But we must not forget that he was also a faithful and enthusiastic supporter of the Club’s dining activities. His acute comments were received with pleasure and some controversy.
It was always good to meet him at Dinners. Sometimes we sat together. When relaxed, Laurence was a fascinating conversationalist. He once told me that he had built a scale model of Broadcasting House in the days of its pre-horseshoe shape. He didn’t disclose whether this was from a love of the fine but brutalist architecture with its Eric Gill carvings, or of the BBC itself.
Knowing that he enjoyed dining so much, I was surprised to find that on several occasions over the last year or so, he had not booked. He explained that his computer was at fault and then of course I would happily take a phone reservation.
On one such occasion he didn’t turn up and was mysteriously uncontactable for some time. Months later, Nick Gretton, whom I did not know then, telephoned out of the blue and explained that his uncle was becoming a little absent minded. Following that, Nick kindly made sure that Laurence found his way to dine where he sat among friends. Thank you Nick and I am so glad to know that you are now a Bushman: a third generation Gretton Bushman!
Let us now salute Laurence whose company and cricket over the Club’s first seven decades have been enjoyed by so many, past and present. His memory is like the Bush: it burns and yet is not destroyed.
Bill Latey
The Gatehouse, Highgate
27th Feb. 2019
Hello, Peter (Herrmann),
Laurence and I talked, over the past few years, of coming to see you at Tilba, but of course, we didn’t manage it before you moved on. Just wanted you to know how keen he was to get there.
A