To round up Women’s History Month 2026, we’re sharing a special contribution from intern Ava Spurgeon, a student of Journalism, Advertising and Visual Arts at Boston University. During her time with us, Ava has been exploring our archive, uncovering stories that speak not only to the history of the College, but to the wider role of women in shaping creative industries.
Drawing on materials that span decades and revisiting these histories, Ava’s work shines a light on the role of women’s leadership in shaping creative practice and education.
We’re proud to support emerging writers like Ava and to see our archive used in ways that bring fresh perspective and insight.
“Rose Bruford was a remarkable lady. An inspired teacher, an exquisite verse-speaker, a talented director, an impeccable organiser, a respected Principal and Leader – a creator, investigator, encourager, and friend to all,” James Dodding, an alumnus of the college, said. “A woman of integrity – of the highest possible standards in her life and work – a woman of character.”
Known by her signature green pen, impeccable timetables, and incredible kindness, Rose Bruford was a pioneer in the theatre world.
Born 1904 into what she described as a loving and caring home, Rose was always drawn to acting. After attending drama school, she taught at the Royal Academy of Music before leaving to found Rose Bruford College.
During her time at the Royal Academy, she grew her programme from seven to 74 students and after four years, was made Director of Drama. She wrote of the responsibility she had for her programme, her good pay and pension, and the ease of the role. But at a certain point, she felt she had done all she could. She wanted to create something of her own.
“Either major alterations or sit comfortably there and grow old doing the same job the same way – never being satisfied,” she wrote.
Hardly anyone understood her feelings or urge to move on, and they were not shy of telling her –
“Don’t be silly”
“46 is too old to start”
“What about your pension”
The two people who supported her wholeheartedly were Edith Scorer and Mary Henniker-Heaton, who she had met a few years prior.
Edith, who Rose described as “always vital and adventurous”, told her if Rose wanted to do it, she and Mary would help.
Rose attempted to put in her notice at the Royal Academy multiple times and was only told she couldn’t have meant it. Would she think it over? No permanent staff member had ever quit before.
“People say, ‘what courage, how brave to start. It was neither. More likely – foolhardiness or obstinacy,” Rose wrote. “Had we known what the struggles would involve – might not have tried!”
Opening the school with only £600 in the bank, the first few years were difficult and not economical – but Rose was committed. She and the rest of the inspired staff had faith in her project. She took no salary for three years and lived off £300 each year from other engagements. The staff worked for incredibly low wages as well, some only £150 a year. Their passion is what allowed the college to become what it is today.
Rose pioneered an innovative curriculum, training actors in teaching, and teachers in acting. They took a variety of classes, with a focus on breadth. This ideal of a comprehensive theatre training was a unique and new approach to drama education.
Gordon Griffin, alumnus from the class of 1963, wrote in his autobiography of his time spent at Rose Bruford College where he trained under Rose herself:
“The three-year course at Bruford’s was nothing if not comprehensive. The idea was that everyone who left college to go into theatre had a thorough training,” Griffin said. “Rose Bruford students were often hired because they’d been so thoroughly taught everything to do with running a show backstage from lighting to prop-making, from sound to backstage etiquette.”
Griffin wrote about the very first experience he had at Rose Bruford College, when he was given the unconventional assignment of having to improvise a scene in front of the entire school.
“The improvised scene was an embarrassing shamble. The whole experience was terrifying. And that was the point, apparently. Miss Bruford reckoned that whatever we chose to do with our lives, whether we chose the stage or the classroom, we’d never have to face an ordeal so frightening,” Griffin said
Rose kept the school to her high standards and vision. She hired staff that she loved and respected, such as Barbara Lander, the pianist for the college.
Barbara wrote music for Rose to teach with and made records for those times she was unable to be there, so Rose would never have to find another pianist. Rose and Barbara shared correspondence throughout the years, even after Rose’s retirement.
“I am quite sure that your music contributed a very great deal to the success of the play. I can never tell you how grateful I am, or what a lot it has meant to us all. Everyone concerned with the production feels as I do, and the audience was full of praise,” Rose wrote in a letter to Barbara.
Nigel Rideout, an alumnus from 1964, was another friend of Rose’s who kept in touch following his graduation from the college. Her unique teaching philosophy inspired many aspects of his career in theatre.
“As far as my international teaching, directing and administrating, all my Rose Bruford College voice and teaching notes have been a bible for me in constructing classes, syllabi etc,” Rideout said. “My voice book is a development of my training all those years ago and the values for which Miss Bruford stood.”
Despite her pioneering ideas, determination, and drive, she was only ever described as a warm individual.
“Bru, as everyone called Miss Bruford, was, as I mentioned before, an inspiring teacher. Bru was a wonderful verse-speaker. It was a privilege to have classes with her,” Griffin wrote. “I admired her very much but was terrified of her. We all were. But it’s surprising because she was small and not at all aggressive. Never once did she raise her voice in anger.”
Although she was Principal, she was a present and kind figure for students.
“I was called into Rose Bruford’s office. It was rare to go into that ‘holy of holies’. I was terrified rather as if I had been at junior school; I feared the worst,” Griffin described. “I sat in front of Bru’s huge desk quaking. She smiled. She had the loveliest smile. Her eyes and her whole face lit up.”
As James Dodding put it, “Wherever she went she spread light. She made the other person feel important.”
This is part of an ongoing exploration of the College’s archive, uncovering stories that continue to shape how we understand theatre training and creative practice today.
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