John Knox (4170)

Teacher, Inspiration, and Friend

A tribute by Gary Dickson (6304)

John Knox was one of the most popular and respected teachers at Campbell over the past 60 years for simple reasons; he was great company and an absolute gentleman.

As generations of pupils will testify, he was also very good at his job.

Anyone who liked football, fun and French – and necessarily in that order – couldn’t fail to enjoy his guidance.

Since the news of John’s passing, ‘gentleman’ has been the word most used to describe him. And he really was a gentle man in the literal and original meaning of the word.

This most mannerly of men hardly ever raised his voice in anger. Relentlessly positive by nature, he was always cheerful.

I first met John in the autumn of 1978, when starting ‘A’ level French in the temporary classroom that would become his permanent home. It was clear from the start that he was different to many of his colleagues; his was a happy hut.

He immediately had our respect because he talked to us as equals and also because he was a friendly, open character who encouraged debate. Even then, it was apparent that he was just as good a listener as he was a talker. And although he was an enthusiastic and inspirational teacher, he loved to chat about things that had nothing to do with French – about football in particular. Sometimes entire 40-minute periods would be taken up by punditry in the Portakabin.

Years after leaving school, I reminded John of how successful we were at getting him off the subject and on to football. He replied: “Actually it wasn’t like that – I wanted to talk about football.”

Despite his fanaticism for the round ball game, he certainly had no aversion to rugby. He was in charge of the 2nd XV at different times, although he was better known as the long-term coach of the 4th XV. In the summer he ran the 2nd XI cricket team for much of his career and his reports on his teams in the annual Campbellian magazine were renowned for their entertainment value.

The craic on the cricket seconds was mighty; the trips to away matches were the best. A few of us loved to imitate the Australian commentator Richie Benaud and one day we were up country and couldn’t buy a wicket, because of a biased home umpire. Several good lbw shouts were turned down as were a couple of obvious slip catches. Eventually one of their batsmen whacked a shot high into the air and when he was caught the bent official had no option but to raise his finger. One of our outfielders reacted by roaring in his best Benaud: “He’s given him! I don’t believe it!”

Any time the second eleven was mentioned in subsequent years, John would recount that story and laugh, throwing his head back in his characteristic fashion.

He was a man of hugely diverse interests, and along with his wife Andrée (Hon OC) enjoyed taking courses in many different subjects including art history, music appreciation, and languages. In recent years he took an Italian GCSE for fun and obtained the highest mark in Northern Ireland before going on to pass the ‘A’ Level with ease. But he wore his learning lightly and never talked down to anyone.

This constant hunger for knowledge and curiosity for life was at the heart of John - he was interesting because he was interested.

Football remained his greatest passion however, especially his beloved QPR, and his knowledge of it was encyclopaedic.

The game was once described as ‘a magnificent triviality’ by the sportswriter Hugh McIlvanney but John disagreed. His favourite quote was from Albert Camus, the French novelist and philosopher: ‘All that I know about morality I owe to football.’ Indeed, John had a T-shirt with those words on it that he wore proudly, at least around the house.

As a French teacher, he was an authority on Camus, and there was logic in his fondness for the author of L’Étranger (The Outsider).

Like Camus, John played in goals and was also a deep thinker about the game. One suspects that in his dreams, John was Camus – moody, profound, and bearing an uncanny resemblance to Humphrey Bogart.

L’Étranger was our ‘A’ Level book, and John was able to transmit his enthusiasm for it to us, which was no mean feat. He never tired of quoting the opening lines: ‘Aujourd’hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas.’ (Today, mum died. Or perhaps yesterday, I don’t know.)

John enjoyed explaining to us the French philosophical idea of the Absurd, which was about the profound absurdity of life, as adherents saw it.

Another of his pet words was ‘Ennui’, which in French writing was more than the mere literal translation of boredom. This was a state of moral and intellectual inertia that arose from the futility of life. It was also memorably described as ‘languid melancholy’ – the type of feeling that John only experienced when picking the ball out of the net.

Of course this stuff sounded more than a little pretentious to our adolescent Anglo-Saxon ears, so he often delivered it with a mischievous smile and a mock-pompous tone. John didn’t take anything too seriously, which was part of his appeal.

That’s probably enough about French now. Getting back to the subject, QPR’s great team of the mid-70s was stuffed full of legends and none more so for John than the maverick to end all mavericks, Stan Bowles.

Stanley was an extravagantly gifted striker, cheeky chappie and anti-authority figure who would surely have been a world class ‘messer’ at school. He loved the good things in life and had more than the occasional flutter, which once prompted a fan to throw a copy of the Racing Post at him when a corner was about to be taken. Stan’s response was to pick it up and start leafing through it.

Although QPR were John’s first footballing love - and he went to see them in West London many times over the years - Northern Ireland weren’t far behind. He was only eight years old when his dad brought him to his first international at Windsor Park in 1949.

In December 1957 he went to the infamous ‘Battle of Belfast’, which was a World Cup qualifier against Italy. However it was downgraded to a ‘friendly’ after the referee’s flight to Belfast was cancelled due to fog. That match, which finished 2-2, ended in a riot with police baton charging home fans who had invaded the pitch and attacked the Italians.

John was also there for the big one – the rearranged qualifier which took place at Windsor Park again, a few weeks later. This time, Northern Ireland won 2-1 to qualify for the World Cup in 1958, arguably the greatest result at home by probably our best ever team.

You had to fast-forward to 2007 though, before John attended his first NI match away from home. That was when he joined a gather-up called the Old Campbellian Northern Ireland Supporters’ Club (OCNISC) following a chance meeting with Henry Muldrew (6352) in a Belfast car park.

Henry asked John if he fancied going on our inaugural expedition to Iceland, and the rest is history. A day trip to the beautifully barren island included a surreal dip in the Blue Lagoon hot springs on a freezing cold day. After a few beers, we watched our team get ‘nul points’ and John was hooked.

The following year there was another memorable jaunt to Slovakia, where the GAWA (Green And White Army) had one of their traditional marches to the stadium from the centre of Bratislava. We were received like a liberating army as locals spilled out on the streets and waved to us from balconies. “I could get used to this’” said John.

Poland the next year was one of the best trips for all of us. We spent time in Krakow and football-wise, NI came away with a point after an enthralling 1-1 draw in a frenzied atmosphere.

John then contrived to miss the following year’s trip to Slovenia, where the Old Boars saw an away win for the first and only time in a qualifier. But normal service was resumed when he returned to put the jinx on us for the next one, a 4-1 thumping by world beaters Estonia.

It was on this trip that he was pointed at and repeatedly called ‘Old Man’ by a local bus driver. John was somewhat baffled by this insult until we explained that the driver meant he qualified for a senior rate. Our elder statesman found this hilarious and later that day at a museum ticket desk, he pointed to himself and said “Old Man”.

Naturally enough, we referred to John as Old Man for quite a while after that. In more recent years, because he was the spiritual leader of the OCNISC, he was officially called the Dalai Lama, or Dalai for short. He had many roles, as he was also chief diplomat, cultural attaché, and linguist.

John derived plenty of fascination from further trips to Luxembourg, where we lost to our mighty hosts, then Romania, where we again took nul points. None of us were terribly bothered by results though, least of all John – which was just as well. Our club motto was ‘It’s not about the game’ or ‘Non valet ludus’ (translation: J.M.R. Knox).

We thought that Bucharest in 2014 was John’s swansong, but when we qualified for the Euros in 2016, in France of all places, he was coaxed out of retirement.

Our match against Poland in Nice was the perfect finish to his OCNISC career. One of our number had secured himself a suite at the famous Hotel Negresco, which was turned into the club HQ. We raised a toast to ‘La Belle France and Norn Iron’ from the balcony, where we had a superb view of the pre-match revelry on the Promenade des Anglais.

There was a wonderful mood in the city and both sets of fans got on famously; the only thing missing for John was a result, as we lost again. Of course the outcome was a low priority for us, but there would be a happy ending nonetheless as we qualified out of the group.

John always extracted the absolute maximum from all our trips, whether it was history, culture, craic with the locals, or just revelling in the GAWA, who were a massive source of fun and entertainment.

He was in his element in the build-up to the game, beer in hand, taking it all in. He loved chatting with GAWA from all across NI and marvelled at their different flags, the exotic outfits and fancy dress on show.

John once said that he rarely felt more alive than when he was on these trips and that they’d been some of the best times of his life. And what a life it was.

John Martin Robinson Knox was born in Belfast on 1st July, 1941, the 25th anniversary of the first day of the Battle of the Somme. He was always proud of this fact as he felt it enhanced his Ulster credentials.

He was the eldest son of Walter and Glenara Knox, and had two brothers, Martin and William and a sister, Janni. His father was a chartered accountant.

John was one of those lucky people who enjoyed every stage of his life and he loved his schooldays, first at Brackenber, and then at Campbell. At Brackenber, his studies included the classics, and he also learnt to play classical piano. He excelled academically and won a scholarship to both Campbell and then Queen’s, where he obtained a degree in languages.

He loved sport from an early age and was an excellent cricketer who later played for North Down, in addition of course, to his goalkeeping prowess.

John completed his teaching qualification in England and got his first job as a French teacher in Brigg Grammar near Scunthorpe. It was there that he would meet his future wife Andrée, who was also teaching French, at another school nearby.

After a couple of years in England, John returned home in 1968 to take up a post at Campbell aged 27 and he married Andrée (Hon OC) the following year. They had two children, John (7228) and Gary (7434), both of whom work in languages. John Junior is a translator in Zurich, while Gary teaches French at Coleraine Grammar School.

John also leaves a daughter-in-law Kimberley, and grandchildren Thomas and Olivia.

He taught French, German and Latin for a number of years before concentrating on French. After 37 years at Campbell, the last 25 as head of the languages’ department, he retired in 2005.

John had a long and contented retirement and enjoyed good health until he went into hospital last summer, but even then he was delightful company. Indeed, some of his visitors might have wondered afterwards whose morale had been boosted more.

He had his setbacks, but overcame them for many months and still remained in good humour through his last weeks. He died in the Royal Victoria Hospital, Belfast on 26th January, 2026.

John being John, he amused us right to the end. Even after passing he made us smile, for he is surely the first Old Campbellian to be buried in a QPR tie.