A very enjoyable part of my job these last few years has been entertaining clients with corporate hospitality at the Rugby Union International matches at Twickenham. I work for a software company, as Finance Director, and these events – such as The Six Nations, or the annual Barbarians Tour - provide companies such as mine a valuable opportunity to spend time with customers and prospects and try to interest them in our products, or at least get them to be favourably disposed to the company.
Sponsorship of Rugby matches like this is actually quite a smart move marketing-wise. They are very popular events, with a convivial atmosphere not usually found at Football (soccer) fixtures – and appreciation of Rugby still, in England at any rate, pretty much follows along old-fashioned class lines. The kind of boy who went to a “good” school – where typically they only played Rugby (soccer being for the oiks), thereby instilling a lifelong love for The Game They Play In Heaven - is the kind of privileged, well-to-do boy likely to have risen in the corporate world to be a mover and shaker in the city. Precisely the kind of corporate big-shot we want to meet.
Usually, we’ll arrange a nice lunch before the match – Twickenham stadium these days has loads of top-rate restaurants and private dining rooms right under the stands - with plenty of liquid refreshment thrown in to make sure the event is jolly and enjoyable.
And from time to time, if the occasion and company is right, I might just say to the guest that I’m entertaining - “Do you know what? I actually lived here, sleeping under the West stand , for two weeks one summer back in the seventies!” It invariably gets their interest, and then I’m able to tell them my story about being one of the…
… Night Guards at Twickenham.
The truth of it is, I can’t believe that no one has ever written a post about night-guarding at District Assemblies before; it was such an experience. Having been out for more than 30 years, I don’t even know if the Society does this any more, but back then, in the seventies, it was a highly-sought-after assignment for a young man in the Truth.
What would happen is this: The society would hire a football (or Rugby) stadium like Twickenham for that summer’s annual District Convention. The brothers would typically have occupation of the venue a week or two before the actual assembly, and the need was felt for some sort of security force. The Night Guards’ job was to patrol the venue through the hours of darkness to discourage any worldly or criminal element from attempting to damage or steal any of the Society’s property on site.
Looking back now, I’m not quite sure what we were supposed to be guarding. Signage? PA equipment? Watchtower Literature? Certainly, there was never any money left on the site overnight. Anyway, a Night Guards corps was formed every year and word went out to the congregations for any “suitably qualified brothers” - preferably pioneers - to apply for the job. In the summer of 1974, this was me and Tom, my pioneer partner.
Both of us were In Good Standing, both regular pioneers and Ministerial servants. In the first year we ever applied, we got accepted, and were asked to go along to Twickenham about a week before the assembly was due to begin. We were to turn up with clothing, toiletries, sleeping bag, a torch and a referee’s whistle.
At Twickenham, we wandered around for a bit (Tom had actually helped with some construction/wiring work a little earlier, so was more familiar than me with the pre-assembly set-up) and eventually we met a young brother – about our age, but whose name I have completely forgotten. Anyway, he was one of the deputies to the Night Guards boss – a middle-aged brother called Bob Miles, who we’d get to meet later. The young brother showed us where we’d be sleeping – it was a players’ changing room area under one of the stands - and we found a spot and unrolled our sleeping bags.
We walked back out into the sunshine on the concourse with the young brother who was explaining all about the shift system ( 6:00 pm to 1:00 a.m. then 1:00 a.m. to 8:00 a.m.) and how we’d be assigned to a partner, so that we’d always patrol in teams of two. He also explained about the torches, whose purpose was obvious, and the whistles - “Very important. Blow on your whistle if you see something, or need assistance – there will always be at least 6 or 8 teams of two in the stadium, and they’ll all come running.”
Then Tom said, on a whim, really “I suppose we should just try them out then, for a test?” - although, I have to say, our whistles had been blown plenty of times before, ever since we got them.
“Yeah, sure.” Said the brother.
Tom gave his whistle a prolonged blast – similar to a full-time whistle in a football match, if you know what that is.
“Seems to be okay!” we all laughed. But I could already see a figure bearing down on us from one of the marquees around the concourse. I vaguely knew this chap, I’d been introduced to him some time before, a wholly unpleasant, self-righteous Bethel brother, Neil [something], who, it turned out, was a Night Guard and Bob Miles’s number two man. He marched up to us with a face like thunder, furious and indignant.
Neil pressed his face right up to Tom, maybe two inches away, and he bellowed.
“You never, ever, EVER, blow your whistle except in an EMERGENCY!! IS THAT CLEAR??”
He was red in the face and actually spitting into Tom’s face as he shouted.
This chap richly deserved a smack in the gob, and no mistake, but Tom - to give him his due - was absolutely humble, and just said,
“Okay, sorry”
Somewhat mollified, and – I think - beginning to feel a little ashamed of himself, Bethel Boy Neil said
“Yes. Well. It is important. So, uhhm, don’t forget. ” And he turned away. We watched him go.
“What a pratt.” Said Tom, and the three of us nodded in silence.
We met Bob Miles later that evening, prior to doing our first rounds. He was a tubby, white-haired, mild-mannered, benevolent uncle type of chap, the kind of guy who you couldn’t imagine ever saying boo to even the timidest goose. Not at all the military-type I was expecting.
Maybe he got the job precisely because he was that type of harmless-looking meek “Christian” type of brother. Perhaps the Society knew that there was a danger of the Night Guard corps becoming a magnet for the more aggressive, uber-masculine type of volunteer, and his appointment was a deliberate counter-balance. Or maybe it was all just random, who knows? There was the fact that he had as a deputy that absolutely puffed-up, self-important martinet in old Bethel Boy, so, I guess Bob himself had a counter-balance.
As it turned out, Tom and I were not partners, but each of us got assigned to someone else. Tom got a mischievous-looking young chap (called Ray, I think); my partner was a recently-baptised young man, all quiet and bookish called Martin.
Martin turned out to be really good company. We patrolled around the concourse through the night and talked and talked. He was a recent convert and had been pretty much a hippy living in a commune when he came into contact with the truth. He went for it straight away, got baptised, started pioneering and was made a ministerial servant in not much more than a year. But, because of his background, he had the most encyclopaedic knowledge of rock bands and music, which, to me, was hugely impressive. He also had a rich fund of drug-related stories, including loads of personal experience, which made him even more exotic in my eyes.
Looking back on it now, I think I was so impressed with Martin precisely because he was a recent convert. As a born-in myself (well, not quite – but good as), I think the overwhelming cognitive dissonance I was wrestling with at that time - and which I was doing such a tremendous job in repressing - made me attracted to anyone from outside and who appeared to have been recently convinced about the Truth.
I wanted to find out all about their experience. My closest friendships were not with people like Tom or other born-ins like myself, but with people like hillary_step (who is on this very forum!) and others such as my best friend brother Pete (h_s will know who that is) who were newly converted. I just couldn’t get enough of that stuff - I think I was looking for a way to continue believing myself.
Anyway, Martin was a really great chap, but – back to the Night Guards.
One experience I remember very clearly from the first day of the actual convention was early in the morning. We were all (I guess about 30 of us ) gathered with Bob talking about our day-time duties, as the brothers and sisters were beginning to stream in.
A chap came running up to us, all breathless and excited.
“North Car Park! A Worldly Ice Cream Van!” he said.
“ Okay, lads!” said Bob. “We can’t have this”
The whole mass of us started walking to the North car park. Walking faster and faster. We broke into a trot. We were running. Bob was being left behind. A low sound started, I don’t know who began it, but it rose and rose, louder and louder … “yyyyyeeeeeeeeeeEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
We were a mob. A lynch mob. I realised straight away what was happening and my blood ran cold. I stopped.
I watched them run on (Bob still gamely trying to keep up) as they disappeared around the corner of the stand. I wasn’t going to have anything to do with it.
I heard later that the chap just simply moved away and there was no unpleasantness at all. I guess he was just bemused. After all, what possible harm was he doing? He wasn’t competing with anyone - it wasn’t as if there was any Watchtower Ice Creams you could buy. But, we had exercised our rights - if we had been animals, I guess it was the equivalent of the Witnesses pissing in every corner to stake out their territory.
We had seen off the Worldly Ice Cream Man.
On the second or third day of the assembly we had our biggest moment of excitement f the whole assembly. And I missed the whole thing.
Martin and I were on the 6:00 to 1:00 shift, and went back to base to sleep at 1:00. As I slept, I was vaguely aware of whistles and shouts going on, but not enough to properly rouse me.
I found out about it the next morning.
Bethel Boy Neil called us all together to tell us what had happened.
“ Last night, we had a break-in. Worldly people, snooping around, looking for what they could take.” He puffed up a little. “I discovered them, and called for assistance. Eventually we were able to chase them off.”
Now he got all serious. “Let this be a lesson to all of you! This job is not a lark! It is a serious business, and we must all remain alert!”
I must admit to being impressed. I never really thought there was any danger of “worldlies” attacking us, but, here was the proof, from Neil.
I spoke to Tom about it, who seemed not impressed at all. Eventually, he told me the truth.
“Yeah, it was me and Ray. That Neil, he is such a f***ing arsehole! [in our private pioneer code, swearing to each other was acceptable, but never in front of others] We just had to do it! It was Ray’s idea, we hid behind a bin for a bit, then just buzzed him in the dark as he came past. We just turned off our torches and ran around a bit. What an idiot! He deserved it. Did you see how he’s carrying on?”
All they had to do after that was turn their torches back on, and join in the ”hunt” for the Wordlies, same as everyone else – but the Worldlies couldn’t be found. They must have been frightened off!
I had to admit it was funny. And I’m pretty sure that, by the end of the day, most of the Night Guards - everyone except Neil and Bob - knew the real story.
Twickenham’s been so rebuilt and redeveloped that my old lodgings there don’t exist anymore – the whole stand has been replaced. Do the Society even have Night Guards any more?
Anyway, that’s pretty much my Night Guards experience. On the final day of that assembly I got introduced to a sister who seemed enormously impressed with the whole Night Guard thing. She took my photo - I looked heroic.
I married her a year later, and consequently was never a Night Guard again - but that’s a whole other story.
Duncan.