West LondonMECCANOSociety

Edited by Chris Bourne June 2011

Paul Joachim 1946 - 2011

Westland “Sea King” Helicopter, Henley Exhibition, 1986. (photo by “NoirProfond2”)

Glasgow “Coronation” Tram, SKEGEX Exhibition, 1989 (photo by Rob Thompson)

Paul Joseph Joachim, 1946-2011Chris Bourne recalls the life and Meccano times of our late Chairman

Our dear friend Paul Joachimhas passed away, at the age of64. Paul has been at the heartof the WLMS for nearly thirtyyears, variously Chairman,Newsletter Editor, and an in-spiring and influential model-ler in his own right. We havelost a wise and capable leader,a loyal friend, a modellinggreat, and a vivacious play-mate all in one man.

The phrase “RenaissanceMan” is generally overused,but in Paul’s case it is most apt:we are talking about a chapwho could play the Frenchhorn, light a stage, patent newchemical applications, singlight opera and serious orato-rio in a fine tenor, build hisown loudspeakers and bottlehis own whisky. All while run-ning a Meccano club and con-structing models of the high-est quality.

Paul Joseph Joachim was bornin Bradford in 1946, but theJoachim family soon moved toGlasgow, which is where theseed of his Glasgow Corona-tion Tram model was firstsown. Paul has often told howhe lived in the shadow of the“great Joachim” - Joseph, thecelebrated violinist for whomBrahms wrote a concerto,Paul’s great-grandfather, themeasure to which later genera-tions were expected to aspire.

But from an early age, Paul wasdrawn to engineering: notably,at the age of three, he investi-gated the family’s Bendixwashing machine with a knit-ting needle, and later disman-tled the alarm clock - and putit back together again.

Paul and Margaret at Paul’s 60th birthday party in ActonClearly requiring the rightsort of toy, Paul was first givena Dinky Builder set, and then,by a perceptive aunt, aMeccano Number Two outfit.“I have most of the parts fromthat set still” he wrote in 1989.“Hard use has made them al-most unrecognisable. Theyare buckled with frequentbending, some of the plateshave split, the original mid-red and green enamel hasquite worn off, and the roundend holes in the plates are dis-torted from frequent leveringwith the drift.”

By the time Paul was twelvehe had got up to a NumberSeven, with two gears sets anda whole load of extras. Heused to take it on family holi-days, and longed for a betterelectric motor than the Trix“Permag” that was all hecould afford. Once again his

favourite aunt came to the res-cue, and the combined effortsof aunt, parents and grand-mother produced the expensiveE20R(S) and transformer forPaul’s eleventh birthday. Paul’simagination ran riot: if only wecould now see the plans for hisautomatic washing machine, orhis egg boiler, which had itsown indicator lamp to let youknow when the egg was done.

Paul’s father had converted tothe Quaker faith in the 1930s,and Paul was sent down Southto the Friends’ School inLeighton Park - anotherLeighton boy was formerWLMS chairman Roger Poulet,although the two were not quitecontemporaries.

An unsympathetic headmasterwarned Paul off engineering,which is what he wanted tostudy, but could not prevent

him from getting into Balliol toread chemistry. As well as hisstudies, Paul played Frenchhorn in the University Orches-tral Ensemble and was activein student theatre, as a set de-signer and lighting director.He taught himself computing- a prescient move in the mid-60s - and dated the youngMarianne Faithfull, or at least,had tea with her. But the lureof coffee proved stronger: theGeology and Chemistry labsshared a coffee machine, andthat is where he met his futurewife Margaret, then a studentgeologist. It must have been anoisy romance: they cementedthe relationship by foundingthe Oxford University Gilbertand Sullivan Society.

Paul embarked on a career inindustry, and joined Albright& Wilson, where he becameadept in pyrotechnics. Notyour usual fireworks, butchemical markers for depthcharges and other military ac-tivities. “I am a world expertin orange smoke” he said,grandly, in his appearancewith the WLMS team on theBBC2 quiz programme Egg-heads.

During a career that took himto British Oxygen, StandardTelephone & Cables, Fujitsu/ICL, Itochu, Anglian Waterand Alginate Industries, aswell as a spell at the NationalEnterprise Board advising oncorporate venture capital fornew technologies, Paul foundhimself increasingly involvedin industrial strategy ratherthan chemistry. For over a dec-ade the Meccano stayed in itshome made box, until hisdaughter Rowan, unable tomake a lorry from her Lego setthat had proper steering,asked her dad for help, and

dad in turn resurrected thatancient Number 7 from the loft.And it was a chance articleabout Geoff Wright’s use of anEpson computer to assist inrunning MW Models thatbrought Paul back into contactwith the adult Meccano hobby.

Paul was introduced to theWLMS by Ian Evans, and hisfirst model duly appeared inJune 1985: a Sentinel 0-6-0 SRdiesel locomotive. Right fromthe start, Paul’s trademark stylewas there: uncompromisingattention to scale prototypedetail; mechanisms that repro-duced essential features of theoriginal; and a near-puritanicaldedication to doing as much aspossible in ‘official’ Meccano.He brought his daughterRowan along as well, whocharmed the entire society, notleast, the notoriously grumpyBert Love. Father and daugh-ter were a regular fixture atmeetings, with Rowan’s won-

derfully inventive models - thesandwich, the handbag of fab-ric plates - alongside Paul’s in-creasingly ambitious scalemodels.

Those must have been goldenyears for the WLMS. Not onlywere such Meccano ‘greats’ asBert Love and Noel Ta’Bois infull creative flow, but the in-take for 1985 alone includedPaul, Roger Poulet, TerryAllen, Nick Rudoe, HowardSomerville and Tim Gant, toname only half-a-dozen. Insuch company a man mightwell sit in the shade and letothers make the running. Notour Paul. His next model wasone of his finest: the WestlandSea-King helicopter, completewith fully functionalswashplate, followed by theFestiniog railway’s doubleFairlie.

Within two years Paul hadtaken over the newsletter and

Paul’s Glasgow Coronation Tram

Challenging the best to do better: Paul’s Franco-Crosti 2-10-0 locomotive

chairmanship of the society.He laid down something of abracing challenge to the mem-bership: “By constructive com-petition we improve ourstandards; continually chal-lenging the best to do better,and encouraging the lessskilled, by example and sup-port, to learn and practise newabilities” he wrote.

For Paul, that meant modelsbuilt to the highest standardsof scale, mechanism and origi-nality. And it meant docu-menting them in the club’smagazine: intricate drawingsby Philip Webb or Tim Gant ofimpossibly complex gearboxesand clutches, articles onepicyclic mathematics or loco-motive valve gear. The stuffyou needed to build the sort ofmodels that Paul and the otherleading lights of the societywere creating.

Paul, of course, had to go onestep better. His Glasgow Coro-nation Tram, Daimler FleetlineBus and Franco-Crosti 2-10-0locomotive were built, writtenup and published asModelplans even while he wasrunning the club and thenewsletter: most of us tend todo one or the other, but Paulmanaged to do it all at once.And there was the ISM: I leaveit to IM magazine to tell ofPaul’s work there.

At the same time, he was trav-elling extensively in EasternEurope on business. Hisrecord collection is stuffedwith obscure treasures fromthese visits. Years later Paulwould invite me, along with afew friends, to annual musicalsoirees in Acton, where we’dlisten to these and our own fa-vourites, on Paul’s impeccablyhigh-end hi-fi system (mostly

Linn), complete with a pair ofmassive loudspeakers he haddesigned and built himself.Back at the WLMS, the new re-gime was not without friction.Some members were dauntedby the increasingly high qual-ity of the modelling and thesuggestion that everybodyshould strive to produce thebest models they could, ratherthan just turn up with a prettymanual model. But althoughhe could be a waspish critic ofwhat he thought was sloppyengineering, he was alwayskind and encouraging to thosewho wanted to improve: in-cluding myself, when, afterPaul had given up the chair-manship (but not the Newslet-ter) he corralled me into theWLMS in 1998.

“The WLMS is the premierMeccano society” he told me,expansively. “And we ratherlike to go in for scale model-ling.” Of course it was outra-geous and provocative, butthat was Paul all over: proudfor his club and proud of itsmodellers, and wanting to en-

courage new modellers toreach for the heights, not themanual. I recall visiting himfor a cup of tea and a chatwhen he was recovering froma particularly drastic bit of in-testinal surgery. I broughtalong a bogie from my Class20 diesel locomotive project.“What’s that?” he asked,sharply, on the doorstep. I toldhim. He took it out of myhands and inspected it from allangles. “You can’t take this toa meeting” he declared. “Ithasn’t got nose-suspendedmotors. You had better comein. I think I have a book some-where...” He never did tell methat, as a boy, he’d won a cer-tificate from Meccano Maga-zine for his own model of thesame Class 20 diesel.

Having been a volunteer onthe Festiniog Railway as a stu-dent, he was a Director of theWelshpool and Llanfair LightRailway company. WithMargaret, he was an earlychampion of the IronbridgeGGorge museum: they first be-came involved right after Uni-

The Dunhill Team - Christmas 2005his sparkling element.

Paul returned to chair theWLMS on the untimely deathof Roger Poulet in 2006, but hehad never really been far awayand always remained on thecommittee. His handling of thepetty crises that can afflict aclub behind the scenes wasmasterly. At the same time hisLondon Eye, and BoeingVertol Chinook were remark-able essays in modelling,dense with mechanisms that

revealed the hidden secrets ofthe real-life prototypes.

By then his health, never good,was getting worse. He was of-ten in pain but willingly tookon the work, simply becausethere was nobody better quali-fied to do it. Naturally, beingPaul, he refused to be a victimof his illnesses. He chaired thePatient Advisory Board at theBladder and Bowel Founda-tion, the main advocacy groupfor incontinence and otherplumbing issues.

Everyone at the WLMS will, Iknow, be full of sorrow at theloss of Paul. A chemist and py-rotechnics expert by training,his life fizzed and crackledwith energy, like a rocket or aCatherine wheel: a delight tohis friends and an inspirationto his colleagues. I do not knowwhat we will do without him.But I know what Paul wouldwant us to do. He’d want us tobuild better models, be betterfriends to each other, andabove all, to “Get it right!”

versity and maintained theconnection ever since. He be-longed to a choir - goodenough to sing at the Barbican- and, with his wife, now theReverend Dr. MargaretJoachim, commissioned anoratorio for their church, fromthe composer Paul Ayres. Hewas Chairman of Ealing Pho-tographic Society too, until, ina typically bizarre feud, he andhis close photographer friendswere ousted: even so, he re-mained an accredited judge ofphotography competitions.Most WLMS members will re-call that Paul always liked acompetition to be judged,rather than voted upon: herailed against the democraticvote at Skegness, which he feltunjustly favoured spectacleover subtlety.

Perhaps his proudest Meccanomoment was the Dunhillproject, when the WLMS wasasked to produce the Christ-mas 2005 window display forDunhills. A select group ofmodellers spent that autumnbuilding the display units at“Mister Richard’s” country es-tate. At the evening reception,Paul, urbane, professional andfull of wit and charm, was in Boeing Vertol Chinook Helicopter

“Franco-Crosti” 2-10-0 Loco, 2nd Prize, SKEGEX 1991photo by Rob Thompson

London Eye, St Albans 2009photo by Alan Blake

Robinson R-22 Helicopter