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OWLS AND THE COLLEGE

By Helen Sapper
Contact the author via the editor by e-mail at christopher.johnstone@ntlworld.com

To a London GP, owls live in books. In Scotland where they are commonplace, a small one has lent its name to this magazine. Could they link too with the Presidents’ portraits at Princes Gate?

The College is full of emblem owls. One surmounts the College Coat of Arms and appears on the insignia of office and consequentially on anything official. Fellows get owl tie pins or brooches and owls on everything are sold in the gift shop. With its gavel and entwined serpent the overworked bird has become synonymous with UK general practice.

Owls you might think represent wisdom. Annis Gillie and Robin Pinsent two of many formidable individuals from the College’s earliest days demurred that they were not particularly wise when its appearance was mooted for the College Coat of Arms. The Richmond Herald responsible in England for vetting the design, reassuringly pointed out that the owl could represent working at night.

Owls look attractive but they prey off small creatures and seeing in the dark has sinister overtones. In medieval times they were seen as harbingers of doom, fear and gloom. On reflection they seem to have many of our profession’s less desirable traits.

For John Hunt the CGP was always going to be an institution ranking equal with the other London-based Medical Colleges. In the mind set of the fifties that meant a fashionable address, insignia, portraits and in time a Royal Charter.

He and Fraser Rose went up to Leeds shortly after William Pickles, himself a Leeds graduate, became the first President. There to promote faculty organisation, it seems too coincidental that within days of the visit the new Yorkshire Faculty announced its intention of commissioning a portrait of the President for presentation to the College. Probably not fortuitously when Dr Ian Grant became the second President, the Scottish membership decided that he too should have a portrait presented. The lack of a permanent home was no deterrent and these portraits were regarded as establishing the tradition of Presidents on completion of their term of office having their portrait presented to the College.

The early portraits were statements about the College’s academic status and affluence. Pickles was made a Hon D Sc shortly before he became President and is portrayed in these robes. Grant and Abercrombie were both MDs and could be robed as such. Future academic slights were averted by the creation of a special College gown.

There were no owls at first. One crept into Abercrombie’s portrait -–the College crest is in the top right hand corner---and as the insignia, all with the owl clearly visible, accumulated they featured in the portraits. Kuenssberg’s included a stand alone Scottish owl, a reminder that it would be improper to use an English Heraldic device for Scotland. The owl in the Scottish Council’s Coat of Arms lacks a serpent on the gavel. The distinction between the English and the Scottish owls has nothing to do with the serpent but about on what they stand. In England it is a helmet --in Scotland 'liveries of Argent and Sable'

If the early portraits are ‘history’ the later ones are about individuals and changing social values. A whistle-stop commentary on the paintings, presumably not his colleagues, by one ex-president was not complimentary. They were smug, bland and boring.

Horder talks of his ‘dreadful portrait’ in which he looks so depressed though the casting aside of the ceremonial garb were more about membership attitudes than his state of mind. Pickles thought he looked sad and Byrne’s family were furious that his arms were cut off. Gillie’s embarrassing original portrait has been locked away and a portrait from a photograph hangs in its place.

Overall the Presidents have been satisfied with their portrayal despite complaints about the tedium of the sittings. Composition and allusions were usually mutually agreed. Some odd postures were demanded to achieve flattering effect though only Drury managed to persuade someone else to (literarily) stand in for him. That magical interaction between artist and sitter was frequently facilitated by alcohol.

The Presidents were free to choose their own artist. Cost mattered—the portrait was paid for by the Faculty membership, until central college got so fed up of providing the shortfall that the cost was split. There were recurrent objections to a perceived waste of money. Only Donald managed what was often suggested –a studio photograph. (Given by the Institute of Medical Illustrators for allowing them to share the Presidency). The donated Fuji film has faded to a rosy glow; contextually appropriate no doubt but a warning never-the-less.

The College archives seldom mention the artists and deciphering signatures was difficult. It was this lack of information that prompted the compilation of a booklet on the portraits. Some artists were great publicists, others self effacing. Identity and biographical details were eventually established for all except NJ Miller Miller, Grant’s artist, of whom nobody admits knowledge.

Alberto Morrocco painted Kuenssberg and Lawson (he was the latter’s next door neighbour). Sanders (Pickles) and Rodney Wilkinson (Abercrombie) were fashionable portrait painters, better remembered for other work. Christian Furr (Newman and Southgate) scoped an array of prestigious awards. Hunt was painted by Halliday whose gallery of medical eminences decorate the RSM. Narraway (Watson) produced over 600 portraits of everybody who was anyone. Sancha (Pereira Grey) preferred grand floral displays to portraits. Reynolds (Drury), Walton (Carne) and Wraithe (Horder) continue to paint other things besides the great and good. Frith, who did a striking head in red ink and chalk of Gillie escaped to Australia. Kearsley (Rose) was a polymath schoolmaster who had a fatal MI at 50.

The portraits reveal more than they intend. Explore their background and unexpected stories and links emerge. And yes, there is an owl connection.

Helen Sapper’s beautifully produced, lavishishly illustrated and wonderfully researched booklet about the Presidential Portraits is available from the RCGP bookshop for £4.99. A snip at twice the price.

hoolet is the magazine of RCGP Scotland. It is supported intellectually, financially and emotionally by RCGP Scotland.

This issue maintained by Robert Hallam.