Interactions with Students

We soon became aware of J R R Tolkien when he moved into rooms in 21 Merton Street. I lived on the top floor of 22 Merton Street in my first year as an undergraduate from 1970. If you crossed his path, he would readily share a greeting.

Later, as JCR President I invited him to the 1972 Eights Week Cocktail Party held in the JCR Common Room. Other Fellows were invited, and undergraduates could buy tickets for themselves and family.

There I remember introducing him to my parents and they had a long conversation with him about Leeds and how much it had changed from his time there beginning in 1920 when he worked at Leeds University.

Only later, on a guided tour of the Leeds Tolkien trail along the streets between the Hyde Park and Headingley areas, did I realise the significance of Tolkien’s years in Leeds. For example, how much influence the Shire Oak in Headingley, which existed in Tolkien’s day, may have had on his writings. The tree was thought to have been there since the Danelaw in the 9th century and a site of a meeting point from Saxon times. Sadly, the tree fell down in 1940.

I have found the letter that he sent me accepting the invitation to the Eights Week Cocktail Party.

-Revd Geoff Ellis (1970) 

I read English (Old and Middle English, Old Norse and Mediaeval Welsh) 1956-9. Tolkien was one of the Merton Professors, with rooms in Fellows’ Quad. Tolkien was very visible, friendly and approachable and every now and again would invite chaps who were reading English to tea. I remember enjoying these occasions, although feeling slightly apprehensive that he would discover that I hadn’t managed to get through any of his books, as fantasy fiction just wasn’t my kind of thing, but I don’t think he ever rumbled me. As I recall, he was tweedily rumpled, and completely unstuffy. He was also self-deprecating. On one occasion he expressed astonishment that there were ‘people in the USA doing PhDs on The Lord of the Rings. Quite extraordinary.’ 

-Richard Thomas (1956)

In Summer 1973 I was the Secretary of the Bodley Club. My duties were principally to find speakers for the meetings and then emcee the meetings. I decided to see whether JRRT might come to speak. I was then in 20 Merton St and he had rooms in 21. I wrote him a very tentative note and put it in his pigeon-hole in the Lodge. 

To my delight, his reply appeared very swiftly. He would be delighted. Would I call round to his rooms to discuss a suitable date? Of course I would, and rapidly did. He received me with warmth and kindness and we settled a date. He told me that he was working on something called The Silmarillion, and perhaps he might talk about that. Not a lecture, but a gentle stroll and an exchange with the members. His doctor, he said, had banned wine but, he hinted, he was allowed whisky. 

The evening was a joy. JRRT engaged us gently and compellingly, and the whisky was acceptable. I have no detailed memory of what he told us, but simply the warm glow of an evening spent with a charming and kind man.

Ridiculous as it sounds, I had not by then read any of his work. That summer I set about Lord of the Rings, and enjoyed it all the more for having the author so close in mind. Unsurprisingly, it is my abiding regret that I did not then think to ask him to autograph a copy for me. I am sure that he would have done.

After the Club meeting I would encounter JRRT from time to time in College and in Merton Street as each of us walked between our respective rooms and College. He always took the trouble to pause and speak. One day he asked whether I would like him to approach Auden on our behalf. Would I! He promised to do so during that Summer Vacation.

Tragically, JRRT died during the Vacation. On my return to College I set about plucking up courage to approach Auden direct. Alas, my courage took too long to arrive. Before I could do so, Auden also died. I did wonder whether there might be a Curse of the Bodley Club.

Decades later, my wife told me that she had heard a talk on Radio 4 by Rick Gekoski, who had just published his excellent collection ‘Tolkien’s Gown’. It seemed that signed copies were of considerable value. She thought we had one. Our fortunes were made. I had to let her down gently. No, all I had were unsigned paperback copies of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. To prove the point, I went to my bookshelves and took down the copies.

And out of The Hobbit dropped JRRT’s note to me, dated May 5th 1973 in his inimitable handwriting, inviting me to call and discuss a date for the Bodley Club.

-Philip Head (1971) 

In the early 1970s I was a (bolshie) undergrad at Merton reading PPE, and had rooms above those of Professor Tolkien in Merton Street. I was a big fan of his writing and had made some sketches of characters from the Lord of the Rings, and one day I plucked up courage to ask if I might show these to him. He graciously invited me to afternoon tea and graciously commended my drawings, but nonetheless chided me for my captioning one of them as of an ‘Orcish warrior’ - if an adjective should be made of ‘Orc’ it should of course be ‘Orkish’!

-Allin Cottrell (1971)

My academic career at school was originally good, but in my later teens things started to unravel. (Decades later I discovered I was dyspraxic, and this had hampered my writing of essays.) During this time a ray of light was my discovery of Professor Tolkien's works, in particular The Lord of the Rings. I found the effect of reading the book extraordinary; it seemed to have the effect of lifting my spirits like little else.

I was also becoming a Christian during these years, of the Evangelical persuasion, and a kind couple who helped me were deeply suspicious of The Lord of the Rings, and I remember praying to resolve the issue. 

When I matriculated to the University in 1972, to read PPE, I was given a room in Merton Street, underneath Professor Tolkien's bedroom. (For security his name was not listed on the pegboard for the staircase.) We shared the same Scout, Charlie Carr, through whom I managed to get an invite to speak to the great man. For an excuse I decided to ask him to pray for the Mission being undertaken at that time by the Oxford Inter-Collegiate Christian Union.

We had a pleasant conversation, and he promised to pray for the Mission. He did subtly try to put me off Luther, by speaking about the horrors of the Peasants' War in the 1520s. One of the most remarkable things he said was that he was very interested in what was happening in San Francisco. I believe he was referring to a movement of the Spirit called Catholic Pentecostalism - much talked about in Charismatic Evangelical circles at that time - which had also been happening in that city. 

He made the obvious joke about my surname - Gollum! Before I went up to Merton somebody had been playing about with the pegboard giving the names of us undergraduates on that staircase; I think 'GOLL' had contributed to 'LOGO'. Charlie Carr was very annoyed. But Professor Tolkien admitted to me that it was him! I think he loved playing with words.

So, instead of finding some weird occultist - I think the fear of the kind Evangelical couple - I found a rather wonderful old-fashioned English gentleman.  

-Jonathan Goll (1972)

In February 1958 I was an undergraduate in my first year of reading History at Merton College, Oxford. I had made friends with a fellow student, David Smith, who was reading Law, and we found that we had both read and very much enjoyed The Lord of the Rings by Tolkien. 

I then found out that Professor Tolkien was resident in College. So, I wrote to him expressing our admiration of his work and inviting him to join us for tea. He replied politely declining our invitation as he visited his wife in hospital in the afternoons, but inviting us to join him for a drink before dinner. I replied accepting his invitation. We met him as arranged and I remember that Tolkien told us that the whole background of The Lord of the Rings came from his work in philology, in that he had played around with the original stems of words and had then begun to think of the people who might have used such languages and from these had created elves, dwarves and orcs. 

He recalled going to receive an academic honour for his work in philology from a French university. When his name was announced, there was a huge burst of applause and he then asked why as the award was for obscure work. The reply was ‘Ah, but Professor Tolkien here, here you are a set book’! 

He had received abusive letters from those who hated Frodo’s wavering on the edge of the fire and deciding to keep the ring just before Gollum bit his finger off. He was shocked that these people hadn’t realised the power of the ring, the main thrust of the story. 

-Tony Wood 1957-60