Mark & Gus in Summerhill Art Room

I am deeply saddened at the loss of my friend and fellow alumnus Gus Dudgeon. Aside from all the music business credits that Gus has to his name there was another aspect to his life that I shall remember him by. I met Gus "Prince Rhino" for the fist time at an IDEC conference-taking place at Summerhill School where both Gus and I had attended as kids, in July of 1999. The British Government was trying to close the school down and we were there in support.

Gus and I had been corresponding via email for a few months before we met face-to-face. We hit it off right away. There was a bond between us not only of music but also of the affect that Summerhill had had on us. What I'm trying to say is Gus is more like an older bother to me. We were able to spend five or six hours swapping stories of our times at Summerhill over a few "too many" pints that weekend. Gus shared how he had lived in this shack with a couple of roommates out by Neil's house. How one of them had got his wanker stuck in some machine he had built. I asked him how it was that he had come to Summerhill and he said, "My dad had run out of options for my education, so it was Neil's turn". I told Gus about how years later we had raided this old shed (his shed) and taken the bedsprings to make slingshots out of them. I shared the mythological stories about the "shed boys" that had been past down from the time he had left the school. He said he mostly recalled, "Riding his bike all day just as fast as I could" and told him of the tree houses I built. So the evening went taking turns telling stories about our days at Summerhill and drinking suds. We talked of others things that related to music and how he became involved in producing. It was great fun and very bonding.

Later that night when we ran out of beer we devised a plan to break into the pantry where the beer was being stashed. You see it was way too late to go into town, as the pubs were closed and way too early to stop the fun. So first we cased the old sitting room that was now the panty/bar for the conference. "What do you think Mark, the door?" "No, No Gus we'd have to break it and I don't want to damage the place". We decided on the windows that had been screwed shut. Paul (another old Summerhillian) gathered his tools from the car while Gus and I stood around trying not to attract any attention. It was the perfect plan and we were celebrating our brilliance with each screw that was removed. Then it happened as two of the elder students came around the corner and there we where with screwdriver and screws in hand...busted! "What are you guys doing?" they asked. "You can't open that window or the bricks will start to cave". "You were going to pay for the beer you'd take, right?" Oh my we were talking fast to get out of this one all the while putting the window back together. Just as we thought we had escaped via our smooth talking ways some more students came bye and seeing the toolbox at our feet one of them tore into us something ferrous. "I'm bringing you guys up...I'm calling a special meeting...you guys piss me off destroying our school you old summerhillians you". On and on the railing went for about ten to fifteen minutes although it felt like an hour. The kids finally left and Paul took his tools back to his car. Gus turn round to me saying,"damn, that was f**king brilliant those kids". "Yeah and we almost got away with it Gus", I stated. "Had we gone to school at the same time Mark I think we would have gotten into a lot mischief", Gus exclaimed. I replied, "Yup, and we would have left Paul out of it, the mole". After catching up to Paul we all went off to bed.

The next morning the legend of Hewy, Dewy and Louie was born in the special meeting as Gus slept in (the bleating basted) and left Paul and I to face the music.

I kept in touch with Gus via email telling him that after that weekend I started playing drums again (after a fifteen-year hiatus) and he turned me on the Soca music. He was really jazzed about Soca after hearing it on some island he had visited (the place escapes me now) while partying it up with Juilan Lennon. He'd razz me about my spelling and punctuation saying things like "you really are a Summerhillin - you're spelling stinks".

I miss Gus and it hurts knowing that I can't just shoot off an email to him to see what's doing.

Good bye my Summerhill brother, good bye Prince Rhino. I shall remember you all my days.

Love, Mark