Mike Payne’s eulogy to Vivian Cox delivered at his memorial service in the Chapel on October 2, 2010
Vivian, you have completed the last Act of your Play on Earth. This service is our standing ovation for you.
On earth, Vivian, you were a man and a half! And for me and many others, a friend and a half! Thank you – I miss you. We all do.
That twinkle! There would have been one in his eyes when somebody asked him if he was going to a funeral the following week. “No,” he said decisively, “and he’s not coming to mine!”
And who else could say “Never drink on an empty stomach, no matter whose!”
That wicked humour! When I was with Vivian in later years and he tired more easily, I said to him once, “I’ll shut up and you can have a sleep.” “No,” he said, “just keep talking – that’ll do the trick!”
Well, Vivian, I’m talking now, but don’t go to sleep or you’ll miss reminiscence, and you know how you love that.Those of you who visited Vivian’s house on the Lowers or his nursing home rooms, would have felt you were entering an art gallery. Portraits and photographs abounded – theatrical and sporting ones predominant. We know so much about him now that I will not rehearse names in his past, as he did so wonderfully himself. Somehow one forgave him his name-dropping, because his stories were never dull. And in my experience he seldom repeated them, partly because he had so many to choose from.
Eighty-five years ago Vivian arrived at The Old House, then the name of the Prep School. His own name was soon to be emblazoned over its honours boards. He was indeed a ‘dag’ – a Cranleigh word, now disappeared, which meant someone who was really good at something. Four years later he crossed the road where he graced the games fields, the theatre with Michael Redgrave, and the role of Senior Prefect. Then at Thames Ditton for OC Rugby and Hockey. Exploits in the war and in films filled the 30-odd years before Vivian was back at Cranleigh to teach for eight years from 1967.
Vivian and I were both interviewed by David Emms – he, one-upmanship, in a helicopter above the School! We were new boys together in the Common Room, especially in the bar and on the sports field.
I remember we often partnered each other in a tennis four against David Emms and Peter Carroll. In one I remember straining my ankle – Vivian was in his element as I struggled on the baseline and he took control everywhere else!
His squash playing was legendary. Even in later years he could successfully take on the best of the boys. Any one of them could have lived up to three times his age and still be younger than Vivian! OC Chris Mann recalls: “When I was in the 4th Form, and yet another return clattered into the tin, he would bellow from the balcony: “N V S D G R !” It meant ‘Never Volley a Serve Down – Golden Rule’.”
On the hockey field, in matches against the Houses, Vivian laid off passes like the master he was. Stephen Boyden writes: “’Viv’ was a glamorous, shadowy figure for me. I am visualising him now, and I see him playing hockey. He was much more athletic than his silhouette suggested, and I never once bested him – ever!”
James O’Shea remembers a Monday morning French lesson. Vivian had returned from Paris the night before. His first words: “As Jean Paul Sartre was saying to me on Saturday evening…..”
After teaching, Vivian became president of the Old Cranleighan Society, and remained committed supporter of all things Cranleighan. We were both on the OC cricket tour of Kenya in 2001, when an 85-year-old Vivian belied his years and loved every minute. It seems strange now watching cricket without him.
Then there is Vivian the benefactor – among his gifts the Vivian Cox Theatre, improvements at Thames Ditton, and finally his legacy, which enabled the installation of our wonderful new organ and gallery. And how he loved this building.
So, Vivian, you were indeed special. All of us will remember that wit, and I wonder how many people’s lives Vivian did touch. I recall a 2001 girl leaver, who met him only once, describing him as “a truly captivating man, a Cranleigh legend.”
Vivian’s ashes could have been laid in the North Sea or the Mermaid Theatre or elsewhere, but they are where he chose them to be, on the South Field. How appropriate that the casket was lowered supported by two old-fashioned hockey sticks – sticks that were found among Vivian’s possessions – maybe ones he used in Cranleigh’s 1st XI, in the OC Hockey Club, or maybe even in the England team. From the flowering cherry there you can see two places dear to his heart – his home on the Lowers and the Jubilee pavilion.
Vivian, your ashes are in South Field, but our memories of you are here and now.