Mr. Lowcock (I always called him Har Gow) was a superb teacher, motivator, and excellent coach. He tried most of the time to be tough (gruff even) but we all knew that he was kind and generous to all of us. Although he never taught me in class, he did offer to tutor physics to me just before the School Cert exams. I forgot why he did this–perhaps he saw my grades in the sciences and wanted to make sure that I would pass at least one science course require for the School Cert. He was so good at explaining physics to this humanities/arts student that much to my surprise I actually passed the physics exam with a high credit.
As a motivator of young minds and budding scholars, he knew when to challenge us and when to push us. At one point (again, I cannot understand what prompted the occasion), he told me that I would either ‘fall flat on my face and would amount to nothing, or that I will achieve great things!’ That remark gave me pause. I took it to mean that staying average was not an option that I should try my best at everything even if I would fail. You will recall that most of us were ambivalent about being picked as school prefects because we would have to change and to act more mature and to distance ourselves from our friends. I was sure that I was not ready for the appointment as a fifth former but Mr. Lowcock made me a prefect, perhaps to show his trust and support for someone who was young and had insufficient self-confidence. I think that I and fellow prefects matured overnight. I was a boarder prefect with (those names I still recall)–my brother Thip (senior prefect), Leslie Fang, Kenneth Wan, Joseph Chow (deceased), Patrick Choy Kwok Hung, Wong Zee Wah, and one or two others.
Mr. Lowcock also used athletics to give us pride in achievement and to boost our self-confidence. I was never sure if he was ever an athlete but he was a good coach and motivator. He taught me to high jump, gave pointers on how to throw the javelin and discus, and how to run strategic races. I remember that out of the blue he entered me in the HK Open Pentathalon event one year just to see how a high schooler can compete with fully grown atheletes. The competition was gruelling–five events in both track and field in one day. I did not win but was not last either. I still thank Mr. Lowcock for pushing me to compete. At one point, he also sent a few of us rookies to compete in an interschool meet to run the invitational 4×100 relay (myself, Au kin chung, Chaikiri (Dicky) Srifeungfung, and another more seasoned sprinter whose name I could not recall). We did win that race to our utter surprise.
I also appreciated his ecumenical view about religious beliefs. You may recall that back then, there was a large contingent of Thai boys at the school. We were mostly Buddhists but we all attended Assembly, read biblical passages, studied the Bible, attended Chapel and Church on Sundays. I do not think that any of my Thai classmates converted to Christianity. It was Mr. Lowcock who reassured us that all was well when he remarked that the ‘Buddhist Thai boys’ had beliefs and morals that was close to Christians.
Lastly, Mr. Lowcock tried to make us well-rounded boys (a prize that I surprising won in Form 3) by exposing us to his love for Broadway musicals. He would invite us to his house to listen to ‘West Side Story’ on his phonograph (I do not think that he had a stereophonic set up). It’s too bad that we were too young to drink back then. I would have loved to sit on his sofa with a glass of cognac and a good cigar and to engage him in a deep discussion of West Side Story and its social and political implications.
All in all, Mr. Lowcock made us live the life of what makes us a DBS boy. He was our exemplar and for that we owe him our successes and achievements.
Dear relatives and beloved ones of Mr. Jimmy Lowcock,
His unforgettable smile; sayings; negative to positive encouragement; helping others spirit will always treasure deep in our heart!
Please accept the deepest condolences with respect and fond memories,
Victor Yung (Boarder No. 9)
Chan Kam Tim
DBS 78
JIMMY LOWCOCK
Although I was a close colleague with Jimmy for only four year during my time as school chaplain at DBS in the 1960’s I have long regarded him as one of the great influences on my life.. When I last saw him in 1998 he was still the same Jimmy.
After being a refugee in the war years he returned to Hong Kong to witness the dire poverty on the streets when refugees from the mainland arrived in great numbers. His mentor at that time was Bishop R.O. Hall whose compassion-in-action contributed so much to Hong Kong’s recovery. Jimmy like R.O. had an enormous heart for the poor. When Hong Kong lacked much of a middle class he established a fund which gave free places at DBS for some of the poorest boys who later proved their worth. He hated all forms of hypocrisy. Self-righteous Christans were branded as ‘Pharisees’.He used to say that few understood his own brand of Christianity, least of all himself, but in retrospect I believe it was close to that of St. Francis in his humour and love of life and total lack of self-regard. His remarkable sculptures in wrought iron portrayed the Christ whose suffering he deeply felt and understood.
Distant as I have been from him across the world and beyond the gap of years I deeply grieve the loss of one who changed and envisioned me as he did countless people who for a while were privileged to walk with him. But I give thanks to God for dear Jimmy and both pray and believe that he will be surprised by heaven.
Canon David C. Ellis, DBS School Chaplain 1965-69)
Personally, I did not have much contact with Mr. Lowcock when we were sharing our last days at DBS; I was neither the top of the class nor the athletic type. As I worked in the education field for 20 years, I know the quality of a principal is vital as it attracts talented educators to serve. Without such guidance, my teachers would not have the space and dedication to nurture our development then. Thank you, Mr. Lowcock.
Erik Cheung ‘82
In Memory of Mr. Sidney James Lowcock – the Headmaster’s House
Where was that special “classroom” in which extra lessons were taught and learned on Hill Kadoorie? The Headmaster’s House.
The House had served different headmasters through the years. For my years, it was Mr. Sidney James Lowcock. There could be many reasons why Mr. Lowcock had chosen to continue with the tradition. One of the reasons could be that he preferred to be close to the school and his students. After all, it was only a pleasant few minutes walk to school each morning across the field, a good warm-up with a healthy pre-load of fresh air for a long day at the office. However, the more important reason perhaps was: Mr. Lowcock wanted to make himself and his 2-story old house accessible.
To me, Mr. Lowcock had made our headmaster’s house an integral part of our campus on Hill Kadoorie. I may have learned my academics in many different classrooms in the main school building, my practical skills in the laboratories in the New Wing, and experienced that added dimension of school life on stage in the Assembly Hall with the orchestras. However, when I became a boarder in my U6 year, my horizon widened. As a senior boarder, hence free from all lights-out restrictions, I was able to stay at the headmaster’s house until late. It was there, given those additional after-school hours, through the many days and nights in my Upper 6 year, that I was privileged to both know Mr. Lowcock better and above all, learn about my “self” much more.
DBS had been known for offering a rounded education to its students. Being active on the music-arm in our DBS tradition, I thought I was “rounded”, meeting the challenges in time-management between the demands from academics and extracurricular activities. Little did I know that to be “rounded” in music, I needed to open up my tunnel vision, extend my understanding and involvement in music beyond the classical. Still could remember how captivated I was when first introduced to jazz by Mr. Lowcock, listening to the body-moving, finger-snapping sounds by MJQ, the Modern Jazz Quartet. Mr. Lowcock was holding a drink in his hand, with his body gently swaying to the rhythm and the syncopated thumps of the double bass. “That’s the way to enjoy music!” I said to myself that night. Not body-stiff, neck-tied and sitting still in the etiquette-laden concert hall! I was amazed by the fact that despite being called “Modern”, the jazz group actually followed such old classic musical forms as baroque counterpoints, something I was familiar with and could therefore appreciate the new sound almost immediately. At that moment, the boundary between the almost aristocratic classical music and the people-friendly music, such as jazz, began to blur; the wall separating them began to tumble as I began to realize the more important purpose and true meaning of music. I finally unlearned my biases, and thereupon became open to question the meanings of not only music in particular, but also life in general. It was Mr. Lowcock who had shown me the way, just as he had enlightened many others, both before and after me.
Mr. Lowcock had made his residence into an open “class room”, an extension from the main school across the field. During his years, Mr. Lowcock had made his house an “open” facility, a “House of Discoveries” for all who came through the door. The Prefects, the boarders, the day-boys, our school’s budding artists, painters, achieving athletes and the musically inclined… each would have his own unique encounter and story to tell. David Sung (Class’65), my Upper 6 roommate, had told his. It was also where my other artistically gifted roommate, late Victor Yeung Charn-hung, was finally able to verbalize his deep-seated fear of the unknown and uncertainties, in dealing with his health and financial problems as he contemplated on applying for college in the US. Mr. Lowcock challenged Victor with more than a token stipend, but more importantly also with a lesson to learn in successfully completing a project. So night after night, Victor would disappear from our dorm room, working overtime on his project when our remaining days on Hill Kadoorie were numbered. There were times he hinted he could not make it, but he also expressed how important it was for him to start and be able to finish the project. He eventually overcame his self-doubts and went on to finish his drawings of our headmasters’ portraits, now lining up the walls of our Assembly Hall. [To this date, I still ponder what pain and sufferings he must have gone through after his DBS days before he finally took his own life.]
The headmaster’s house was a popular haven where we were encouraged to not only challenge the established with courage and determination, but also our self. In the process, many would discover our own “self”… in our innocent nonage. Mr. Lowcock made it happen.
Peter C. Kwok
Class of 1965