A Double Sadness, Daisy Alcock 1901-1996

Daisy Alcock, after a long and active life, died in 1996 aged 95 and her passing is doubly sad. For one thing; it’s the end of an epoch. I believe it is true to say that she was the very last surviving person who had known Edward Johnston as a teacher. So that direct, personal link with Edward Johnston has now been broken.

On the other hand, we have lost one of the great calligraphic personalities. Make no mistake, Daisy was a unique character. She was a tiny woman, full of fire. All her life she’d had to make her own way, but she had an indomitable spirit.

Brought up on the farm near the Midlands town of Wolverhampton, she returned there later in life in order to take care of her ageing and ailing Mother. As a young girl she was expected to share in the work of the farm but, determined to follow a career in Art she studied at Wolverhampton Art School and eventually forged a place for herself at the Royal College of Art in London. It was there, in the 1920’s, that she studied Penmanship and Illumination with Edward Johnston, and fell under his spell. But, of course, even that did not prevent her from doing Calligraphy Her Way!

Daisy was a popular teacher herself. She taught at Hammersmith School of Art and Craft for 20 years, and she generated a loyal following among her students. At least four of them became Fellows of the SSI- Margaret Adams (who also died in 1996), Maisie Sherley, Mary White, and Tony Wood. Until quite recently she kept in touch with many of them, she delighted to display the many Christmas letters and cards she had received from her friends and ex-students around the world. She was eager to hear from Mary or Maisie or Dorothy and Charles (Mahoney) or Paul Standard in New York.

My personal introduction to Miss Daisy Alcock, ATD, ARCA, FRSA, NRD turned out to be a Baptism of Fire. At the time, I was teaching in the Art Department in Solihull, which is quite near to Wolverhampton. I received, at the College, a telephone call from her (actually it was more like a telephone summons - one learned not to argue with Daisy). Apparently, she had telephoned the British Library and “Someone” had informed her that I could do gilding. She needed help with a little matter. I was to visit her at the first available opportunity and attend to it.

On arriving at New Cross Farm, where Daisy was living alone now that both her parents had died, I was ushered into the parlour. There she unwrapped a large package, revealing a manuscript book which needed some attention. The “Little Matter” turned out to be the RAF Memorial Book for the Battle of Britain which Daisy had made nearly 40 years before, for Westminster Abbey. The title page had, inexplicably been damaged.

The Dean of Westminster had wanted the repair to be done in the Abbey, but Miss Alcock (in her 70s’ and not given to much travel) insisted that it should be sent to her studio in Wednesfield. One learned not to argue with Daisy. The manuscript made the 100-mile journey from London by car, accompanied by an RAF motorcycle escort!

The book is used in the annual Battle of Britain Commemoration in the Abbey and somehow the large (no, Huge) gilded letter B was cracking. This letter must be 8 inches tall, with a main upright stroke nearly one inch wide, and the surface of the letter is decorated with a fine pattern of indented dots. On the title page it acts as the initial letter for both words, “Battle” and “Britain”.

The “Studio” turned out to be Daisy’s enormous bathroom (having the best light and humidity in the house), and I attempted the nerve racking job of removing small sections of the cracking gold and applying new wet gesso, under the penetratingly watchful eye of the original Illuminator! She sat at my elbow during the whole process. Even at that age she was extremely alert and sharp and she wasted no time in letting me know that I was going about it in totally the wrong way!

Following this initial trauma, I got to visit her regularly. I remember, vividly, her immaculate home with wood floors so highly polished that I could see my face in them, her extensive gardens which were her pride and joy, with lawns as smooth and weed-less as billiard tables. Daisy’s home was full of examples of her own work, framed on the walls or books in display cases. Some of them, like the wonderfully gilded naval badges, were duplicates of those done for commissioned books. (The badges were from her amazing HMS Hood Memorial Book now in Boldre Church.) Others, like the framed alphabet exemplars and descriptions of gilding and colour techniques, she wished to place in a “Daisy Alcock Room” in the British Library! Her work, if not always to my taste, was astonishingly skilful; razor sharp letters and brilliant gold.

On those Sunday afternoon visits, we reminisced about Edward Johnston or life in her Kensington Studio, her love of fast cars or her typeface designs for Edward Rondthaller in New York, her big commissions like the Royal Badges for the Garrison Church at Aldershot or the RAF Queens Colour Book. On those occasions she invariably served enormous tea trays, mountains of sandwiches, and always three or four desserts (she always loved desserts)!

Daisy was always pleased to talk with someone who understood her Art. I think she missed the vitality and society of her earlier life in London. Wednesfield was hardly the centre of the universe, calligraphic or otherwise. Yes, a double loss. The educational link with Edward Johnston has finally been broken, and a uniquely spirited calligraphic character has gone. There will never be another Miss Daisy Alcock, ATD, ARCA, FRSA, NRD.

Stan Knight.
Former Chairman - The Society of Scribes and Illuminators (1979 - 1982)