Women of UCBC
A personal account by Margaret Chamberlain
Margaret Chamberlain was in the first intake of women in 1979 and read Jurisprudence. She founded the College Women’s Boat Club in early 1980 and was captain 1980-1981, a boat is named after her (2007, Class8+). She is a solicitor (formerly a partner with Travers Smith LLP) and a trustee of two charities, Parkinson’s UK and Target Ovarian Cancer and a Trustee of the Univ Old member Trust.
A personal experience depends to some extent on one’s own character and personality. So here is my impression of what I was like at 18. I attended an all girls comprehensive school in Kettering, and was the first member of my family to go to university. I had never met anyone who had been to a public school, and was very much into human and women’s rights and I had scary huge hair, permed and hennaed. Hillary Clinton- Hair matters.
I knew, with all the conviction that one has at 18, that I would not enjoy the broader experience of being at an Oxford college, but I was very competitive, I didn’t see this as something that should prevent me from coming to Oxford. Oxford was the best place to study law, so I wanted to be there. Schools like mine had little ability (or interest) in preparing students for the entrance examination.
For the 1979 intake Univ. began a scheme of offering one or two places per subject on the basis of an interview, conditional on A-level results. I had a tough interview with the law tutors, nothing about my interests etc. All to do with logical reasoning and skills at making a case. I was made a conditional offer to read Jurisprudence, for me this was the lifeline to a different world and the relief and delight I felt when I got my A-level results is something I will always remember.
Pictured: Margaret after winning blades in Torpids 1982
So we were around 30 women in an intake of 100, total College members about 300. I spoke recently to Carolyn Briggs who read Experimental Psychology, coming from a comprehensive school in a small Lancashire town. We have both been told in later years that the College was trying to find women who would not only be able to cope academically, but who would have the strength of character to cope with being in such a minority and “breaking the mould”. If that was the aim, then, looking at the women in my year, I think some very wise decisions were made.
I arrived in College on Thursday, 11 October 1979. I had received a letter from the Dean informing me that I ought to arrive before 8:15 PM when there is a meeting in the hall “which all freshmen” have to attend, and that there would be a special dinner for Freshmen on 12th October. I am sure that now the use of the term “Freshmen” would provoke a Twitterstorm, I don’t think I even noticed it.
As I walked through the gates I was approached by two young men who offered to help me find my room and carry my suitcase. I was surprised to find that they seemed quite normal (they were indeed of the species known during my time as the “Northern Chemist”). I remember them sitting in the window seat in my small room in Goodhart and chatting away, and at that same moment some of the prejudices with which I had arrived began to melt. I recognise they may have had mixed motives, but they seemed good types to me.
Pictured: the first ever women’s eight outing
I have heard since that the College had taken a deliberate decision not to make too much of a fuss about the arrival of women, but to treat it as a continuation of business as usual.
So there were no separate bathrooms and women were scattered around the college, rather than on one or two staircases. although (I think) no woman was entirely alone, we were all next door to or very close to at least one other woman. Gwynne Ovenstone had with her usual skill paired people pretty well, I was put next door to Wendy Hunter, a medical student with whom I am still friends today.
First ever photo at the start of the Torpids race
Before term began the Men’s Boat Club had sent out an invitation to all freshers (including the women) to join the Boat Club, which I ignored on the basis that I had managed to avoid sporting activity so far and had no intention of changing my approach.
Fate took a hand when I sat next to the Captain of Boats, Philip Lafeber, at the Freshmen’s Dinner. He was probably struggling to find common ground and also in need of a cox. He observed that I was quite small in stature and asked if I had a loud voice, to which the only suitable answer seemed to be “yes”. He suggested that I would make a good cox; I said that I had no idea what a cox did. This conversation resulted in a trip to the Boat House and an outing in a tub pair. To this day I have absolutely no idea why I agreed to meet Philip at the river, but I am so glad that I did.
I became the first woman member of the College Boat Club and in my first term coxed the Univ. men’s third novice eight, there was no fourth novice eight. My coxing abilities matched the rowing skills in front of me. I couldn’t drive, I hadn’t realised that when one end of the boat moves in one direction, the other end will move in the opposite direction and so my principal qualities were those identified by Philip at the dinner, I was not very big and I had a loud voice, very important in pre-voice box days.
I have no doubt that if there had been anyone else available to cox, I would have been relegated to a substitute cox, but there wasn’t that much interest.
Norman Dix had not been in favour of admitting women to Univ., and his early experiences with me only confirmed his opinion. Indeed he told me in that first term, when yet another bobble on the Bennett needed repair, that if I had been a man he would have banned me from the boathouse. So there were some advantages to being one of the first women in Univ.
In Torpids 1980 I coxed the men’s third eight, indeed early one morning I crashed it into the Lightweight Blues and there was a headline in the local newspaper. I was actually quite good in the bumps races.
I was the only woman at the 1980 Torpids Dinner, and my tutor who was there congratulated me for having the courage to attend it (I think he found it a rather more daunting experience than I did!). Dinners were I think possibly more alcoholic than now. In defence of Univ men I never felt harassed at these occasions, but then I did have scary hair.
From this unlikely beginning the Women’s Boat Club took shape. How did I come to found it?
A few other women had asked to learn to row, something of a distraction for the Men’s Captain. Their training needed to be organised, managing the Men’s Boat Club was a fairly full time job and I was the only woman with any relevant knowledge at all, including how to get to the boat house.
The women’s crew row away after their first ever bump
Thus it was that I was asked by Philip Lafeber to take on the task of running what is now the Univ. Women’s Boat Club. Norman remained dubious about women in the boat house, but once he saw we meant business, he rapidly became our firmest supporter.
It would be fair to say that the men had no great expectations for the Women’s Boat Club and that no particular arrangements were made to accommodate us. We rowed in the men’s boats (adjusted by Norman) with men’s blades and it was some time before our campaign to have our own blades was successful, and some time before Norman let us (or more precisely me) loose in a shell, the precious “John Cross”.
At the beginning of the Summer Term 1980 I had called a meeting in my room in Goodhart of those women who had said they were interested in rowing.
I am pretty sure I made it clear that my interest was in doing it properly and happily there was a general feeling that we were not there to row prettily up and down the river on sunny days, we expected to be taken seriously and we wanted to win something.
We needed to look like a team. Whilst the men had kit, the women did not. After much discussion on preferred colours we decided to wear yellow tops and an expedition to the High Street (Top Shop or something similar) produced a result (we needed a large range of sizes) and we sewed the Univ cross onto the front. It was a typically Univ approach. Worcester College equipped their Women’s first eight with a new shiny black shell and an amazingly slick professional kit, but we were ultimately the slicker crew.
The next year we had a proper blue rowing slip onto which we sewed the Univ cross and a yellow ribbon trim.
Other parts of the college perhaps regarded us as a bit of a joke, I still have the handwritten note from Leslie Mitchell which I found in my pigeonhole one day:
“Dear Margaret, could you bring the rowers to see me at one on Wednesday to think about the revue sketch.”
It turned out that we were expected to sing a ditty (the draft of which I still have) which in my view mocked the efforts of the women rowers. I don’t remember how but the message was communicated that we would not do it. It was too early days, we needed to establish ourselves.
We also needed a dedicated coach. It was always a bit of a struggle to get someone to commit to us regularly. When we did have coaches they possibly felt a reluctance to be as direct or demanding with us as they would be with a male crew. Paul Aston, a first year chemist, had no such qualms and he became the Women’s coach during the 1980 Summer term (and indeed continued to be so for many years). The success of the women in the early years was due in no small part to his dedication to the cause.
The women in the Boat Club in the early years did not necessarily have a lot of contact with each other outside of the daily training, but they were a fantastic team. Everyone got up in the early mornings, tried their hardest throughout the training sessions, recognising that a boat is only at its best when its crew flow as one, that a lack of focus from one will upset the balance of the whole boat. They found rowing to be the best and the most demanding of sports.
As a new boat club we were in the same position as the women at the other colleges which had recently admitted women. We had no position in the Summer Eights divisions and had to “row on”, which we did with either the fastest or the second fastest time but sadly we did not win our blades. Torpids 1981 was our next chance and we had a fantastic crew and boat-the “John Cross”, according to Norman it was the last boat made from a single piece of wood . Again we rowed on well and bumped on the first two days, but the boat was brought to a stunning halt on the third day when our number 5 caught a crab and we never made up the lost ground. A bump on the last day was some consolation, but we were heartbroken. Summer 1981 brought renewed hope, we had a fantastic outing on an early evening outing on the Monday of the week of Summer Eights.
The boat ran level, the water ran under her like a flowing stream, we had a tremendous power and sprint capacity and we all left that evening feeling calm, content and in control. Our blades were in our sights.
We failed to notice the rising river levels. The next day the decision was taken to cut the divisions and we were only to row on the Friday and Saturday. I can recollect the despair we all felt even to this day. It was some consolation that we beat Somerville (then Head of the River) in a straight race in the final of the Oriel Regatta at the end of that term.
Photo after the women’s crew first ever bump. Cox: M Chamberlain, Stroke Sara Taylor, 7 Cathy Kneafsey, 6 Nicky Berry, 5 Carolyn Briggs, 4 Lindsey Stewart, 3 Patricia Hayes, 2 Sue Macfarlane, Bow Dorothy Ann Fraser, Boatman Norman Dix, Coach Paul Aston
Thus Torpids 1982 was the last chance for the first women to win their blades before Finals. Not all of the 1979 intake felt able to row during that term because of the work pressures. Apart from me as cox the others in the last chance saloon were our stroke, Sara Taylor (History), Cathy Jones (Medicine) at 7, Carolyn Briggs (Experimental Phsychology) at 5 and Melanie Davey ( Jurisprudence) at 2. Nicky Berry (Chemistry 1980 and then Captain of Ladies Boats) Jane Heyes (postgraduate) Patricia Hayes (History 1980) and Catriona Bass (Russian and French 1980) made up the crew. Suffice it to say we got 5 bumps and there was jubilation in the streets!
Torpids 1982, about to bump, when the women’s crew won blades. Cox Margaret Chamberlain, Stroke Sara Taylor, 7 Cathy Jones, 6 Nicky Berry, 5 Carolyn Briggs, 4 Jane Heyes, 3 Patricia Hayes, 2 Melanie Davey, Bow Catriona Bass, Boatman Norman Dix, Coach Paul Aston
The Men’s First Eight had a dining society, the Dinosaurs. Over time I felt that there should be an equivalent for those who had been members of the Women’s First Eight. The idea was that it was a dining society for women, but that we might invite male guests, but they would be a minority.
Why is it called Cassandrians? You will see from the history of the early days that despite having a good crew, we had some very bad luck which prevented us from winning our blades until our fourth attempt. On each occasion that we failed, there had been great confidence in the camp, except that I had had a niggling feeling of doom. I turned out (sadly) to be correct and so we called it the Cassandrians.
I still have the seating plan for the first dinner, attended by 14 women, the men present were our coach Paul Aston, my tutor Martin Matthews, George Cawkwell and, of course, Norman Dix, who we all loved to bits.
A year passes quickly, soon more women came up to College. I found the letter which the Ladies Boat Club sent out to the new women arriving in 1980. I was given a handwritten list of names and addresses (no GDPR issues there) :
It listed some of the advantages of rowing concluding with the statement
“There is an additional advantage in a college which will still be largely male it is a way of getting to know your fellow females - something which many of us here found it difficult to do at first - but which is necessary if you want to remain sane!”
Times have changed, when I see what the women do now I am astonished. I thought that we spent a lot of time on the river every day, but our fitness routines were nothing like the ones they have now and we certainly didn’t have nutrition before races based on our glucose and lactose levels! Coxes are properly trained. I do hope that they still enjoy their rowing as much as we did.
And so back to the issue of what it was like to be one of the first women. I simply don’t recollect having any particular issue by virtue of the fact that I was in that first cohort.
Experiences are also more shaped by people than furnishings and there were many special people who made a difference. We were lucky to have Bill Sykes as the College Chaplain at that time, he was always in one quad or the other, or down at the river and was a very significant contributor to the family feeling that there was in the college at that time. Norman Dix, one of the most gracious and kindest men ever to grace the planet, so knowledgeable about so much, in particular human nature and human experience. I will always treasure the many hours I spent with Norman at the back of the boat house with a chipped mug of tea, sharing his lardy cake, doubtless pouring out my heart about my latest frustrations expectations etc. Norman had seen it all and was always a great encouragement and comfort, particularly during exam periods.
So I experienced a college which was forward thinking enough to make it possible for people like me to attend, which adopted a low-key and no-nonsense approach to the admission of women, a development which was not welcomed by all, and which enabled women to settle and find their own place without feeling in some way singled out for special treatment (whether good or bad).
I was very lucky to get a place at Oxford, even luckier to be at Univ. and to have the opportunity to make a difference simply by taking up an offer made at a Freshmen’s dinner
I will always be grateful to Univ. for giving me a place, it was then, as it is now, a leader in constructive thinking as to how to broaden access to students without (I would say this) reducing the quality of its intake.