Stephen Rhys 1926 – 2024
by his daughter Christina
Some of you in Sheen will remember the familiar sight of Stephen on his bicycle, waving hello as he passed by, his basket loaded up with allotment vegetables, with copies of scores to take to a rehearsal or maybe some treasures rescued from a skip somewhere along the way. You’ll also remember his Morris Traveller loaded up with sacks of horse manure, maybe several tenors or several kettledrums, on the way back from a concert. Some of you may remember enormous pieces of driftwood from the banks of the Thames balanced precariously on the roof-rack. After months of drying, the same driftwood would be planed smooth and clean and became beautiful shelves, benches, bunkbeds and even once a hugely heavy wheelbarrow. Stephen loved his carpentry.
Stephen grew up in Putney with his father Brian, a French teacher and translator. His mother, Thea, was a very talented young woman who had been a student at Oxford and a viola player, but who tragically died when Stephen was just three. The gifts they shared with Stephen stayed with him all his life: his love of languages and passion for music.
Stephen developed a strong attachment to his father and they shared many good times: climbing Welsh mountains, sailing on the Norfolk Broads, visiting Paris, playing chess and reading Dr Dolittle together. At 13, Stephen won a scholarship to Bryanston school in Dorset. He loved his school and claimed he had cycled the 100 miles home alone to south-west London at the end of each term.
For a short time before the war ended he trained in the Marines. Stephen didn’t like being in the Marines but by lucky coincidence – a very lucky coincidence – our mother Julia, just 16 at the time, had also come with her parents to stay in a holiday cottage on the sea front at Deal on the Kent coast. The landlady asked the family if a marine, a young man named Mr Rhys, could come to practise the piano while they were holidaying. There began a very long and loving relationship that was to last more than 60 years.
Stephen was a student at the Royal Academy of Music, with piano as a first study and conducting and composition. He didn’t talk much about his time there and seemed to enjoy the Academy more when he returned to teach there as a harmony professor in his 30s.
Stephen and Julia began their married life together on a houseboat on the Thames but space was tight, especially as there had to be room for a piano. A year later they moved into a terraced cottage on Derby Road and soon afterwards their son Bevis was born. Very sadly Bevis died in a mountain accident in Scotland when he was ten. This was a very difficult time for everyone but with very good support from their friends and with their faith, Julia and Stephen began to recover from their loss and the family grew. Today we are 5 children, 6 grandchildren, 5 great grandchildren, and 4 daughter-and-son-in-laws.
Stephen’s musical career was wide-ranging. He loved his piano teaching and his harmony students at the Academy. Amongst these was Elton John! He loved his choirs and especially enjoyed each year planning ever-more challenging programmes for them. He also conducted the Richmond Orchestra who conquered The Rite of Spring one season.
He spent forty years as music director and organist at Christ Church. In the 70s and 80s there were up to 40 children in the choir – many conscripted by his own family from Sheen Mount school! Choir members earned a penny for each service and 20p for weddings – not a great rate – so they really must have loved that choir. He produced two operas in the parish, with a huge supporting team of volunteers, and oratorios such as Handel’s Messiah and Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. Stephen always seemed very fortunate in having wonderful people to support all his many projects. The choir also loved the bonfire party each November 5th in the back garden of the Well Lane house.
Possibly not so many know that Stephen at one time was also Assistant Chorus master for the Philharmonia Chorus with twice-weekly rehearsals in London. Their principal conductor flew from Aachen in Germany to take rehearsals but in the 1950s and early 60s London smog was at its worst. On foggy winter afternoons Stephen used to wait, ever-hopeful that once again Herr Pitz’s flight had been cancelled and he was to take the rehearsal that evening. Then he would be onto his bike and quickly off to Mortlake station – in the fog. Disappointingly for him, the clean-air act cleaned up the London air, the planes began landing more often, and Stephen lost a job.
Stephen planned many exciting family camping holidays. He used to work hard to find the cheapest possible – and often most complicated – ways of taking his whole family to faraway places: to the Hebrides, the Shetlands, the Faroe Isles, to Norway, the Netherlands and to Slovenia. Sometimes he condescended to renting or swapping a family home in place of tents.
His passion for learning languages reached dizzying heights when, already in his 60s, Stephen taught himself Mandarin Chinese from a cassette tape and a phrase book. He and Julia then spent a year in Urumchi, a city in a minority ethnic region of north-western China. Back at home he was often busily repairing bits of the Well Lane house, sometimes climbing up the highest ladders which he always enjoyed doing, especially if he could be seen by anxious neighbours as they passed by.
None of these things would have been possible without our mother Julia to support him through thick and thin, ever running after him with a flask of coffee and sandwiches, helping smooth the way when a piano lesson had unfortunately been forgotten or when, once again, Stephen was almost late for a rehearsal somewhere. She worked so hard looking after him and although with wonderful talents of her own, helped him achieve very many things whilst still having a big family to look after at home.
Stephen spent his last four years at Harley House in Leicester, where the care he received was second to none. We are so grateful to all the team for patiently looking after him, cooking him wonderful meals and listening to so many hours of piano playing. I will always remember the afternoon we first arrived there, when Stephen was still suffering from delirium after a difficult hospital stay. He told one of the welcoming carers,
“We need to find a second flute for the concert straight away” and was given very kind reassurance that yes, that would be no problem at all.
Stephen died on February 5th with a lovely Staff Nurse, Maria, by his side. She had read him Psalm 23 and then, leaving the room for just a very few minutes, she returned to find he had peacefully passed away.