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 Bernard St. Junior Secondary School 


  


1964
This building has been demolished and replaced with industrial units. See Bernard Street


Possibly all that remains of Bernard street school namely the wall for the girls entrance gate hinge


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Bernard Street playground

Extract from e-mail, GlescaPal Peter Scott, Canada, Dec. 2002, 
Bernard Street School in the 1930s
Bernard Street School was in the heart of Bridgeton, and in the tenements overlooking the school, on most days you would find the housewives engaged in their favourite pastime of "hingin' oot the windae", and on the street below, the usual greeting was not "How are ye?", but that almost imperceptible shake of the head known as "The Glesga nod".
An outsider, on observing such behaviour, might think that the inhabitants were persons of low quality and inferior intellect - but they'd be wrong - dead wrong! - for in spite of the extreme poverty and the hardships they endured in the depression, the average Brigtonian was a bright, considerate individual who would give you the shirt off his back - it can't be said any plainer than that. And in education the student in Bridgeton enjoyed the benefits of an education system that in its day was among the best in the world -No question!
In 1938, in pursuit of learning at Bernard Street School, I took my seat in Mr. Paterson's music classroom one Friday afternoon. The lesson that day was tonic sol-fa and Mr. Paterson proceeded to sketch on the blackboard a series of notes, quavers, crotchets, semi-quavers, minims, and the like, and, starting in the back row put the question "Name that tune". No success so far, and now it was my turn. I stood up. "Celeste Aiida," I said. "What!" thundered Mr. Paterson, staggering backwards against the piano. "Celeste Aiida, sir" I repeated, putting added emphasis on the "SIR". "Do you mean this?" and he sat down at the piano and began to play and sing. "Celeste Aiida forma divina," I confirmed that that was indeed what I meant. After he had recovered his composure, he asked how I came to be acquainted with such "heavy stuff"  (Verdi is heavy). I told him that sometimes on a Saturday afternoon I'd listen to opera on the radio, and I'd also heard that aria sung by Richard Crooks at the pictures.
Now for the punchline of the story - about time too, I hear you say!
Anyway, it turns out that it wasn't "Celeste Aiida" after all, but "Charlie is my darling", which, if you are familiar with both melodies, you'll know that the notes are about the same - it's just the timing that's different.
From that day on, I was Mr. Paterson's favourite pupil, and each Friday after class, I was invited (ordered?) to stay behind, when he would put a classical record on the radiogram and explain the piece being played. A cultural feast indeed for a wee lad from Brigton!
I often wish I could have met Mr. Paterson later in life to tell him about my visits to the Opera in Italy in the three years I served there during and after the war........
..

see Peter's Band of Hope story

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