Memories
Unsolved Crime at Marley Hill
Missing Money Still A Mystery. (from an old article).
Miners' wages to the amount of £12,900 were stolen from Marley Hill Colliery Offices on Thursday, 15th September, 1949. The money, made up into wage packets, was put into the strong room on Thursday night, and when it was opened on the Friday morning at 8.0 a.m. by the cashier, Mr. J. Bell and Mr. D. Dormerhill, head bill clerk, the money was missing. No force was used to gain entry into the colliery office or strongroom itself, and the supposition was that a duplicate key had been used. When Thursday became the day for collecting the money from the bank it was necessary to guard it overnight at the colliery itself. A night watchman's rota was instituted comprising colliery officials. Mr. Ralph Shield, foreman drainer, was the night guard on duty in a room. Thursday was his usual night on duty and during his period on guard he was visited at regular intervals by colliery firemen from a nearby building.
Mr. W. Welsh, N.C.B. area general manager, stated that all 1540 men affected by the robbery would be paid on Saturday. Fourteen men and girls worked (under police prtoection) all over again to remake the miners' wage packets and the paying out proceeded smoothly on the Saturday morning. The money was in soiled pound and ten shilling notes and £1,000 in silver and copper and the thief left nothing. He even struggled away with a hundredweight of copper and silver.
Detectives form Blaydon and Felling pursued inquiries led by Supt W Wilson and Chief Inspector A.S. Thornton. Durham County's Asst. Chief constable, Mr A. Reay and Detective Superintendents R Hall and R Lee are also involved. Firms who offered a key-cutting service were checked on the theory that duplicate keys were used. Pay packets for men at Burnopfield and Byermoor Collieries were taken too.
The N.C.B. offered a reward of £500 for any information which would lead to the arrest of the thieves and the recovery of the stolen money. Now 18 years have passed since the robbery. Not a single clue has been found that would help the police in their investigations and today the North East's perfect crime still remains unsolved.
£12,900 was worth about £330,000 in 2007.
Sport and Recreation in Swalwell
Swalwell Village Late 1920’s to Early 1930’s by Jack Dixon
Picture the scene. Saturday noon. Several ladies making their way to the cricket field -Thomasina (Sina) Laidler, Mary (Polly) Mason, Jenny Errington, Mary (Polly) Dixon, to name just a few. Heavily laden with baskets full of kettles, teapots, cakes, bread, etc., to make sandwiches for the players’ teas. Before 2pm., crowds are gathering to support their team. Prompt 2pm., the umpires in their white coats make their way to the centre of the field and carefully place the bails on the stumps. A great cheer goes up as the famous Bruce brothers Tom and J.B., both Durham county players, proudly walk to their positions, Tom to receive the first ball. More often than not they made a century partnership laying the foundation for a big score. In later years, JB took over the Highlander pub in the village and it became better known as the Cricketers Arms as the teams usually called in there after the game for a quick one (or two)! Depending on the state of the game, tea was usually taken about 4pm when the locals rushed off home for a quick snack then back again for the second innings. If Swalwell were victorious many of the spectators remained, talking about the game, and if the umpire had made a bad decision, questioned his eyesight! “How could he be given out as caught behind the wicket when his bat was nowhere near the ball?” was the cry. Those stalwart members, Tommy Rutter and Humphrey Errington, never without pipes in their mouths. Will Baty, Andy Dixon and others always ready to help in any way.
The ground was very picturesque, separated from the football field by a line of tall trees, the home of scores of crows. At the bottom end was the Newcastle to Consett railway line. Legend has it that a batsman once made a huge hit – the ball soared high into the air and landed on a wagon that was passing and finished up in Consett . Some hit! The river Derwent flowed nearby. There was however one unpleasant spot just outside at the very bottom of the field. Jimmy Foster’s piggery – when the wind was blowing in the wrong direction it was, to say the least, very unpleasant. He also had a little sawmill where he made bundles of firewood that he sold in the village. No central heating in those days, all coal fires.
Next to the cricket field was the football ground. The team was very well supported and had some very good players. The towering Frank Watson, very few players got past him, and Joe (Hockey) Watson, strong as an ox. No massive wages for them – they played for the love of the game. What about the pitch? Sloping, bumpy, and often muddy. Could the modern day footballers cope with that and a leather ball and boots? Cricket and football games were not only played on Saturdays but mid-week too for cup ties The cheers and shouting could be heard in the village.
Quoits was another game that was popular. How the men cared and tended that yard square of clay – watered only when necessary to keep it in prime condition. This was played near Coalway Lane, now a council house estate. It was a great pastime for the men to fill in their time and ease the boredom and frustration of unemployment.
Sadly, after the war, things changed. Support dwindled and the football team folded up. The cricket team moved to a new ground. Executive houses are now built on the site. The grounds may have gone but the memories of those happy days and the enjoyment they gave remain.
My Country Needed Me (Really !! ): Part One
A whimsical look at his National Service.
by Alan Davidson.
Once upon a time the government announced that they had great need of young, strong, handsome men to help out the Regular forces. I knew they meant me of course, so I duly registered at the local Labour Exchange. The clerk there asked me which branch of His Majesty's armed forces I would favour with two years of my life, and when I said RAF he quipped " I suppose you want to be a pilot?". I told him I would love to be a pilot, but I did
not think that many of them wore glasses as I did.
They would not take my word for it that I was a perfect specimen of manhood and insisted that I have a medical. So, the day after my 18th birthday I turned up for that ceremony at the Medical Board in Newcastle. Here I was poked, prodded, made to jump up and down off a chair, but they finally had to admit that I was right. Later they confessed and gave me a card to prove it.
The registration number of this card was---GFN22431. Was this some secret code? Had they classified me already as ;--Good For Nothing ???
Three months later (now I know how Julius Caesar felt about the Ides of March) came that well known envelope marked O.H.M.S. Inside was a lovely letter asking if I would help them out. How could I resist? My country needed me. So I went.
With it was a warrant for rail travel, and instructions for getting to Padgate, in Lancashire, for our Basic Training (posh name for square bashing ). And so I eventually arrived at those well known gates (not the Pearly ones, RAF Padgate), along with a few lads I had met on the train.
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Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
My Country Needed Me : Part Two
We passed through the gates, entering a new and strange world where every one except us shouted, at us of course. The shouting seemed to be mandatory and it went on all the time.
I can remember my first meal in the RAF,---pickled gherkins,which looked to me like a big fat caterpillar, floating in
grease.
Next day we were kitted out, and that seemed to provoke the loudest shouting of all. The kitting out took place in a large wooden hut which was lined with tables, before which we trembled in file(the RAF has lots of large wooden huts for all sorts of purposes). The Staff behind those tables gave us a quick glance and decided what size we were. That did not make much difference to the size they gave us, but eventually we had a full set,
including a "hussaf"(short for housewife), a little bag containing needles and thread and blue wool. Surely they did not expect us to do our own mending? Yes, they did.
We spent some time marking our kit with our service number, and it was stamped on everything, especially our minds. No serviceman will ever forget his number.
They did not let us out of camp for three weeks because, they said, in that charming way they had, we were not fit to be seen in public until we could dress properly, and walk as if we knew how.
We learned to march, (easy for me as I had learned in the Church Lads' Brigade), drill, salute the right people, say Sir when appropriate, or Sergeant or Corporal when we had learned the difference. That did seem to be important to them, so we humoured them.
My brilliant career, and my life, almost came to an abrupt end in the fourth week of training. We wore webbing belts with bayonets attached most of the time, but were not allowed to wear bayonets at meal times (did they think we might attack the cooks?). Running down the path between the billets (wooden huts in which we lived), one lad realised that he was still wearing his bayonet, so he stopped, very suddenly. I ran into him and
the lad behind ran into me. Unfortunately the lad I hit was the anchor for the station tug of war team and weighed about sixteen stone. As I weighed about ten stone wet through I just bounced off him and was knocked down by the lad behind me. When we got up we were both bleeding , him from his thumb, me from my neck.
(he had been carrying knife fork spoon and a china mug which probably broke on me). I had a cut about two inches from my jugular vein, which I believe is quite important.
So off we went to the M.I.Room (a sort of surgery). Sadly the M.O. (a sort of doctor) had gone to lunch, so we went for ours. The bleeding did not impair our appetites. Then after lunch I watched fascinated while the M.O. stitched up his bleeding thumb. I'd never seen this done before and was suddenly stricken with terror as I realised that he was going to to this to me. I sat on a chair with wooden arms, and I'm sure I left my fingerprints on the arms as he put three stitches in me. He apologised for not giving any anaesthetic, which he said would hurt more than he would. I was more concerned when he sprinkled the wound, and most of my uniform, with Sulphanilamide
(a war-time discovery, very anti-septic). He then gave the coup de grace by sticking elastoplast from my chin round on to my hair. Can you imagine what it was like getting that off after a week? Hair -raising to say the least.
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Part Five
My Country Needed Me: Part Three
Talking of hair, there were hair-cuts. These were not a form of hygiene but a form of discipline and punishment. Whenever you committed a misdemeanour, however small, it was "get your hair cut". A favourite trick of D.I.'s (drill instructors) was to stand behind you and whisper in your ear "am I hurting you? I should be, I'm standing on your hair, Get it cut."
There was one lad in my billet who seemed to have forgotten that washing is sometimes necessary. After a while we noticed his strange custom, and it was changed by a few lads who washed him; in a bath; in cold water, with a broom. He soon changed his routine.
The assault course was another delight they had for us. It was a series of obstacles designed to strike terror into the hearts of raw recruits, and it worked. It was exhausting as well as frightening. We had to carry rifles and wear tin hats. The first obstacle was the favourite (of instructors) two tree trunks over a pool of water. The safest way to cross these logs was to run, if you walked you fell in. Then came a large ramp, about ten feet high, with a sudden drop on the other side. This is where the tin hats came off. Few lads finished the course
wearing the same hat that they had started with. Other delights were; tunnels to crawl through, steel ladders placed horizontally about ten feet above a large pit.(I came to grief on that one), a rope ladder attached to a large wooden structure like a goal post. One lad, six feet tall and fat as a pipe cleaner, while climbing the rope ladder, froze halfway up, and could go neither up nor down. His hands had to be prised off the rope before he could be helped to terra firma(much less terra when you are on the firma). But near the end of our six weeks square bashing we ran round the assault course twice in one lesson, just for fun. It had lost it's terror, and we were
much fitter by then.
Rifle drill was something new for all of us. Did you know that a Lee Enfield 303 Rifle weighs only ten pounds (real
pounds, none of this metric stuff)? There was always one clever dick who could lift it up by the muzzle(that's the end where the bullets come out). To me it felt more like ten stone. Another experience was to fire the wretched things, not the ones we drilled with, they were old and not safe to fire.
Off we went to the butts, a wooden two tiered structure you had to lie down on to fire. Picture the scene;-ten lads on the bottom tier, ten on top, all wriggling about trying to get comfortable to fire this young cannon.
The dust fell down on me and my rifle, and instead of a smooth action it became very gritty. And, count carefully along and make sure of your target. I was number five, and when we had blasted away our ten rounds we all went up to the targets and examined them. Imagine my horror when I realised that mine had not one hole in it. Number six was delighted, his had twenty holes in it, what a score!!!
The Parade Ground seemed to be sacred, and woe betide any one who walked upon it outside of parades. Ceremonial Guards were a necessity, for which honour we had to compete.
Eventually came our "Pass out " parade, when we showed off our new found skills to some high ranking Officer. Of course, until that day we were the worst Flight that any instructor had had to bear with (telling us that was supposed to inspire, or frighten, us to do better, and it probably did both).
Then we had to decide what our future in the Service would be, what trade would we learn. A list appeared showing which trades were trained and where. Lots of lads chose a trade that was trained near their home, but as nothing was trained any where near mine, I asked to be a Wireless/Teleprinter Operator, or in RAF terminology a Wop/Tele Op. When asked why I had chosen that trade I said that I MIGHT sign on, but only AFTER I had done my two years National Service (and I hadn't even kissed the Blarney Stone then !! )
Do you remember lads that first leave? How we showed off our new uniforms? What handsome dashing figures we cut. Didn't we? During that leave they sent me another of those nice letters, asking if I would mind going to Compton Bassett (I wondered where that was) to become a Wop/Tp/ op.
So began that long journey to Wiltshire (that was down south somewhere, wasn't it? ). Train from Newcastle to Bristol, only 8 hours. Then to Chippenham and Calne. The last train had carriages with wooden seats length wise, like a tram-car, and candle brackets on the walls. It stopped at what looked like a wooden bus-shelter called Black Dog Halt, and waited for a man who had walked across the fields to meet the train, at about half past five. What service. Come back British rail, all is forgiven.
Then by taxi (actually they called it a three ton lorry) to the camp at Compton Bassett, my home for the next nine months. That was on a Wednesday, and by Saturday I was on guard duty. They gave us a bicycle built for a man nine feet tall, and told us to guard the camp, which we had not seen in daylight.
My training lasted through a bitter winter, it was so cold we burned anything we could lay hands on, in one of those cast iron stoves. Late one night my pal Ken fed this stove so enthusiastically that he tipped it over, and it rested on the concrete surround (white-washed of course). The chimney, not having the stove to support it, fell down at the foot of my bed. I did not waken, (my wife is never surprised at that.)
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Part Four
Part Five
My Country Needed Me: Part Four
We had weekly progress tests, and they gave us little chits to record our success, or failure. Did I mention that the RAF has chits for every purpose. We were taught touch typing on old manual typewriters with steel covers over the keys so we were typing blind. Three weeks was all we were allowed to gain the required speed,
which was fifty words per minute. The essential speed for sending and receiving morse was 18,(Words per minute, a word being 5 characters) to pass as AC2, 20 for AC1, and 22 for LAC. We were also taught procedures for signalling, and a lot of technical stuff, about how the radios worked and that sort of
thing.
One almost "end of career" incident occurred. We went on field training, which meant taking a portable radio set (
portable if you have a three ton lorry to carry it) out to the airfield at Yatesbury, where a howling gale was b lowing. This was the airfield from where they flew Gloster Meteors, one of the earliest jet fighters, it could fly at 600 mph, which was much faster than anything else at that time First we had to erect a bell tent. This was easy I thought, I had erected many of those in the CLB.. First you lay out the canvas, pop in four tent pegs, pop the pole in and stand it up. The wind had other ideas and began to pull out the pegs. The Corporal in charge put his foot against one peg and said "knock it in further". I did try, honest, but instead of the peg I clouted his foot ! He was
wearing wellies! I thought that this was the end of a promising career, but he contented himself by running quickly through his extensive repertoire of naughty words. It was most educational. By the time we had the radio set up we were soaking wet, and I sat down on a little stool, got the radio going and signalled back to camp that we were operational. As I sat there the water was trickling down into my boots. When we got back to camp we were allowed one hour off duty to dry out and change.
There was very little entertainment on camp, so we made our own. One idea was burial at sea. We persuaded one lad to take the star part, so he lay down on a wooden form, we covered him with a sheet and carried him shoulder high with great solemnity down the billet. Then, unrehearsed and unknown to him, we opened a window, rested the end of the form of the window sill and, yes we did, we tipped the form up and he slid silently out into the
cold dark wet night, in his pyjamas. We quickly closed the window and tried something else. A few minutes later he came in the door, soaking wet and not too pleased with us, and we found that he had learnt a few of the Corporals naughty words.
Another home made entertainment, for dry week-ends, was the assault course. This had long been abandoned, and was overgrown with grass and weeds. There was a tree stretched across a small ravine, and we crossed it, sitting astride and clinging tightly. But one lad in civvy street was a Ballet Dancer, yes a genuine ballet dancer. He was a nervous lad, somewhat effeminate, but very fit, and he just walked across, perfectly balanced. You
should have seen him trying to make ballerinas out of us. Of course we were heavier than most ballerinas, and he had some difficulty lifting us over his head, so we used the bed springs to help us get there. After his national service he returned to his ballet dancing and had a successful career in Edinburgh.
This was the lad who, early in the course while listening to morse code through earphones (at only about 4 words per minute) suddenly threw his head-set on the desk and burst into tears. We thought that this was not the done thing, but the instructor was not at all surprised, and just told him to go for a walk and come back when he felt better. This instructor came to me and said "where did you learn morse code"? I was very surprised, and he would not tell me how he knew, but he was right, I had learned in the C.L.B.
It was here in Compton Bassett that I had my "moments of glory", and discovered how frightening they could be. There was a large NAAFI building, complete with delicious goodies on which we spent most of our pay, and a stage. This had curtains, usually closed, and behind them was a piano. I discovered that I could sneak behind the curtains and play away on the piano and nobody would take any notice. Or so I thought. One evening I was
playing away, quite alone, when a voice above me said "Ah, you can play in the concert." I was shocked, was this God speaking directly to Me?. No, it was just a corporal fixing the stage lights. I grabbed my music and was off like a shot, I wasn't going to play in public! But my friend Ken, bless his cotton socks, told the corporal who I was, and I was "persuaded" to play. One other chap would play, but he was quite keen. Fortunately he was the same size as I was. Fortunately because there was only one evening suit, so we both wore it (at different times of course). I was first on, and when I walked on in full evening dress, bow tie, white shirt, claw hammer coat, there were cries of " what's this the Ritz" and so on.
All I could see was a huge rectangle of dazzling lights, and when I sat down to play I was shaking. I played
three short pieces that I could play from memory; Poem by Fibich; Etude by Chopin; A sprig of Lilac by A.N.Other; and when I stopped between each piece my hands were shaking. When I had finished there was a ghastly silence, and I thought "how am I going to get off this stage with some dignity?". But it was only a few seconds and the applause rang out (thunderous? Not quite). I bowed quickly and left the stage. The corporal was very
pleased "they liked it , play some more". But I was already taking off that suit, ready for the other chap to wear. That was my second public performance, the first had been at school. I still don't like playing in public.
At the end of this fascinating period of training I duly "passed out" as Aircraftsman 1st class (much superior to AC2) and my pay went up from 7 shillings per day to 14. (that's about 70 pence in new money).
That magnificent sum was paid 7 days per week, out of which I had to send 7 shillings home to Mam, and pay for "barrack damages". Damage the barracks? ME? of course not.
Then I was posted to Bushy Park, the grounds of Hampton Court Palace, and the Headquarters of Transport Command. We had little cards like library tickets which, if they were in the box in the Guard room meant we were in camp. If they were not in the box we were out. As signals bods worked twenty four hours each day we had two cards, one for normal hours and one for other times. But, silly me had both cards out at the same time, so I was
AWOL. When my sin was discovered I was made to clean out the store room where all the paper from the signals was kept, and of course, get a haircut. At Bushy I worked on the telly/op part of my training, that is on teleprinters (they were later called telex machines). The Russians kept me busy by blockading Berlin. The airlift started, and for every aircraft that flew into Berlin a signal was sent, in code, detailing it's cargo, so we had lots and lots of signals.
There were American airmen at Bushy, and when they came on watch they arrived in great big cars. But when those tough, not so well paid, British airmen came on watch we arrived either on foot or by bicycle (we did not need cars !!! ). There was not such signals traffic between us and the Yanks, but one day they sent a particularly long signal, and not having the same confidence that we had then sent s little signal saying "did you get that long signal OK?. Of course our reply was---"what signal"?
I remember with some satisfaction, a morning when we were all sleeping soundly ,the door burst open, and an over-zealous corporal gave that awful war-cry "wakey wakey". He was quietly told that this was a signals billet and he apologised and withdrew. I can't remember any other perks we had.
By this time we had become quite domesticated, you might even say house-proud, because we had learned to polish everything; our buttons (not like these modern softies who have lacquered buttons); the floor of our billet. Yes we did, we polished the lino on the floor. We had pieces of felt, about a foot square, and we walked around the billet on these, developing a shuffling sort of walking. And woe betide anybody who forgot;- "don't forget the polisher" was the agitated cry. We had even learned to iron our shirts and press our uniforms, though probably not
in a method approved by Mams. And, I could even darn socks, and oh boy did they need it. The shirts had separate collars, which came back from the laundry starched and curled up in a tight circle about three inches in diameter, so they had to be opened up before we could put them on.
While at Bushy it became clear that my expert services were needed elsewhere. We were asked were we willing to serve overseas. Willing, I could hardly wait to get there, anywhere. So I said yes, my pal Ken , who was then at Abingdon, said no. So, he went to Fontainebleu in France and spent most of his time there arranging entertainment for the troops(he was a great amateur actor), while I went to Changi in Singapore.
When you leave one RAF station for another you have to get your clearance chit (I did tell you that they had chits for everything ?) signed by every section, just to make sure you don't owe anything. On presenting ourselves at Sick quarters the clerk there led us to a table covered with forms, and began picking up quite a few. Naturally we asked why, and he just grinned and said that each form represented a jab that we were about to get. So we were inoculated against practically everything, except those nasty social diseases we had had warning, frightening films about. I was well protected against small pox, cholera, typhoid, yellow fever to name but a few. The yellow fever was the worst- a syringe like a stirrup pump, the vaccine put in frozen; it hurt, and I had to go up to London
to get it!
On embarkation leave I visited my former office and the girls knew that NYLONS could be bought out there, so I sent a few pairs of 15 denier nylon stockings home (and they paid me when I returned).
So I arrived at Southampton, to board a troopship. Yes, a troopship, I thought the RAF flew everywhere, the indignity of it all. There were only 50 or so Airmen, all the rest were the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders on their way to Korea. The ship was called the Empire Trooper, and had been a German Liner, captured early in the war by the cruiser H.M.S.Belfast (now a museum on the Thames). It had been refitted as a troopship on the Tyne, used during the war and had been shelled by a German warship. As troopships went she was fairly comfortable,
three tier bunks to sleep in, and a dining room. The air conditioning had outlets everywhere and you could smell when the bread was being made.
The first time we went for a meal we were given a disc, say round and green. Next meal time we exchanged that disc for one of a different shape and colour, to prevent us having two meals. After a while, when delicate stomachs had asserted themselves, the colours of the discs became very mixed, as meals were missed. My brother, who had been in the Royal Navy had warned me that I must eat even if I did not feel like it. It was difficult to remember his words while sitting in the dining room, unable to bear the sight of food, and looking through the
porthole, seeing first sea, then sky, then sea, endlessly. But we survived. There was a sort of café on the ship where we bought a mug of tea for a penny,(real pennies, not this metric stuff) and a packet of biscuits by Carr's of Carlisle for another penny. As soon as you picked up your mug a voice would say "will you get one for me?" and you ended up carrying four mugs. It was okay going up with empty mugs but tricky coming down when each hand held two mugs of steaming hot tea..
Fresh water was only available twice per day, one hour in the morning and one hour in the evening. There was endless supplies of salt water, and we were issued with salt water soap! This did not work very well in salt water, but it was very good in fresh water. I'm not sure whether it was this soap or the salt water, but it narf made your hair curl.
So off across the Bay of Biscay, smooth as a mill pond, those tales of rough seas were exaggerated.
Past Gibraltar through the Med to Port Said, where we changed our blue uniforms for tropical kit, a light sandy colour. The ship had run out of Carr's biscuits and bought Egyptian ones, which were awful, made out of sand , and they have plenty of that out there. We were allowed ashore for a few hours, where we could buy anything. Every street urchin seemed to have a sister for sale, temporarily of course. We had been warned never to buy water melons anywhere but in the NAAFI, because they said, once cut off it's stalk a water melon when placed in water would absorb that water, whatever state it was in.
The ship gave a lift to two Arabs by hoisting their little boat on to the Davits. We all watched fascinated while they
smoked their hubble bubble pipe (tchibouk I think it was called). Down the Suez canal and out into the Red Sea. It was so hot there that we were allowed to sleep on the open deck. I woke up one morning to find that I was covered in spots, there wasn't room for even one more spot. In no time I was surrounded by a group of lads(at a respectful distance) who were all afraid that I had some dreadful tropical disease (the same thoughts were in my mind). But I was relieved to here them saying, oh so have I, and it soon became apparent that nearly everybody was affected. The MO said, if that's all that is wrong don't bother me, I can't do anything about it. It was just the heat which caused it, and the spots disappeared quite quickly, to every one's relief.
The distant land looked barren, uninhabited and faintly pink, which could explain why they called it the Red Sea. Next stop was Aden at the bottom of the Red Sea, but we did not get ashore here, not that there was anything to go ashore for, why anyone would fight over that desolate place, as the Yemeni tribesmen did, I do not know, though I suppose it was Home to somebody.
Then on into the Indian Ocean, where the fun started. The waves do not break in this Ocean, but that did not stop them coming right over the top deck of the ship. I sat near the bows and watched the moon sliding up and down the mast, no stabilisers on that old ship.
We called at Trincomalee in Ceylon (now called Sri Lanka ), and were allowed ashore for a few hours in the evening. This caused some fun, the soldiers had to have their sleeves rolled up, but the Airmen
had to have theirs rolled down (must stick to regulations no matter how hot it was.). We dashed up to the NAAFI, and spent all our money on cold drinks (there were no cold drinks on board).
In a brightly lit street, with all the shops open, there was a man sleeping rough in a doorway, and the biggest spider I have ever seen just walking about the street. It had a body as big as my fist, and legs at every corner. We granted it the respect it deserved. And so on to Singapore. While the ship was moving at sea there was a slight breeze, but as soon as it stopped in the harbour at Singapore the heat bore down on us very oppressively. They told us that in this heat our blood would thin down in three weeks, and take three months at home to get back to
normal. There was a band there to greet us, and we could see the sweat running down the base drummers face. He was wearing uniform, a tiger skin, and carrying a huge drum.
A lovely coach was there to take us to Changi, about 14 miles away, and en route we had to cross the runway, and all ducked as we saw a Dakota thundering down the runway at us.
And so began my short stay in Changi. There was a shortage of Wireless operators, so we worked 7 days per week, a different shift each day. I enjoyed the work very much, communicating with other operators all over the place;- Butterworth up in Malaya, Kuala Lumpur (KL), Iwakuni in Japan, Ceylon (well we had to get the football results somehow), and even once to Australia. We worked in morse code, in code and plain language, but morse is a little out of date now, it is so out of date that my computer's spell checker does not recognise the word. At Butterworth they had dodgy electricity, and often had to use a little generator for their transmitter. This was low powered so we had to turn the volume on our receiver up. Then without warning they would revert to mains electricity, the power was suddenly much greater and nearly blew our heads off.
We sent signals in code and plain language. When we were on night duty we would start at midnight with perhaps a pile of signals to send, but there would be quiet spells and these were hard to bear. But just to make sure we did not fall asleep we had to communicate with the distant stations every 15 minutes. This made sure that the channels were always open, and the operators had not gone to sleep.
I sent a plain language message one day saying that a Sunderland flying boat had crashed while taking off from
Seletar. The next day I sent a signal saying that the pilot had had both his legs amputated. This was quite upsetting.
Another time I was put on the distress frequency. A squadron of Spitfires had set off for Hong Kong and they had lost their skipper on the way. I had to listen, turning the receiver dials this way and that, hoping to catch his Mayday call. Aircraft radios were not so reliable in those days and it was quite stressful, knowing that if I missed his call it could lead to his death. He was never found.
When we were on night shift, midnight till eight am, we had a break at three, and enjoyed a trip upstairs to the canteen where a very sleepy Chinaman sold us a fried egg sandwich and a pint of orange juice.
There was a lad there with us, we called him Yank, because he talked and walked like a Yank. He was English but had been evacuated to America at the beginning of the war. He was a trained wop/telly/op, but one day when there was little work to do, the Corporal in charge saw that he was bashing away on his morse key. On enquiring, what are you doing (or words to that effect) Yank said "I'm just practising, but it's ok I've turned the dial". The dial was on his Receiver, and he had not affected the transmitter at all. So he was transmitting his practice to the whole of the far east. His practice was extracts from the book For ever Amber, the spiciest book around at that time.
Another little incident I quite enjoyed concerned a flight sergeant. He had recently come from England where he had not done any operating for some time, he said he had been keeping pigs for his C.O.
He wanted to try his hand again, so I signed off in the log (I was not going to take the blame for any of his possible mistakes). After a while a Q signal came through. Q signals were for operators only, groups of 3 letters meaning operating messages. QRS meant send slower, QRQ meant send faster. But the Q signal which arrived while this flight sergeant was operating meant "put a competent operator on". He did not know what this meant, so I had to tell him as tactfully as I could. Thankfully he accepted that he was no longer competent, and signed off.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
My Country Needed Me: Part Five
There were electrical storms very often, and they were not welcomed by Wireless operators, they created too much noise in our head-phones. The cables to those phones were the old fashioned braided kind which absorbed some of the damp atmosphere (Singapore is a very humid place ) and if we had made ourselves comfy, ready to send a long signal (perhaps 500 words long) the cable would perhaps be resting against our cheek, and as soon as we touched the morse key we would get an electrical shock.
Not serious, just enough to make us jump, and interrupt our transmission. I learned to swim out there, where the water is always warm, and very buoyant, but not too healthy. Some of my friends offered to teach me. They told me to jump in the deep end, and promised to teach me how to swim once I was in the water. This method I believe originated in Japan, but I did not fancy this Kamakasi method, so I declined their generous offer. But one quiet lad said that he could teach me in about a foot of water, and he did. I wasn't very good, I could not manage the breast stroke, seeming to breath when my mouth was under water instead of on top. But I developed a satisfactory side stroke, which kept me afloat for the rest of my stay in Changi.
When I returned to England I went to the Shipcote Baths, to show off my sun-tan and my ability to swim and dive. This was a mistake! My friend Ernie Johnson went with me, he dived in first and pronounced it lovely. So in I dived. The water was FREEZING compared to the water in Changi. I came out rather quickly, and have never been back. I should have remembered that I hate cold water. Another happy occasion I vaguely remember was to take a bus trip to Seletar, about 30 miles away. The bus was an old Chevvy, driven by a native Singaporean, obviously a direct descendant of Ben Hur. He hurtled along at what seemed suicidal speed, remembering that the jungle came down right to the edge of the road. His method of negotiating a village was simply to sound his horn all the way through it, and chickens and people ran for cover.
There was some kind of fair on at Seletar, but I can not remember much about th at. But the return journey, in the dark, was even more scary.
One lad, a fellow wop/telly op, got on Fairly well oiled and carrying a pint glass full of beer, yes a glass not a bottle, and my concern was that he would spill it all over me. But he didn't and had drunk most of it by the time we got back to Changi. I picked up a germ from the water in Changi (the swimming pool, or pagar, was simply part of the sea fenced off) and this caused a fungus to grow on my ear-drum and made me deaf. A deaf wireless operator is not a lot of use, so I spent a week in hospital, being pumped full of penicillin. We were paid extra for being over seas, one Singapore dollar per day, that was two shillings and four pence. When jankers (punishments) were being dished out the sentence was doubled because we were on active service. It dawned on some bright lad
that we should have some of the perks of being on active service. So we were issued with a tin of 50 cigarettes each. As I did not smoke I was suddenly very popular.
There was a chance to go on leave to Penang, a few hundred miles away, but to go there I had to draw a rifle and fifty rounds of ammunition, just in case the train was attacked by communists. This was a regular occurrence and as the train took more than one day to get there you had to sleep, with the bolt of your rifle clutched in your hand as this was the part the thieves wanted most of all. I did not think this was much of a holiday so I did not go. We played football, in the evening as it was too hot even for mad dogs and Englishmen to play in the mid-day sun, against a local team who played in their bare feet.
There was a big parade for Battle of Britain day, September 17th, and it started at 5 a.m., because by 7 it was too hot for parades. Dawn did not creep gently over the window-sill, it leapt up into instant bright day-light, hurtful to our sleep laden eyes. The sun came up at the same time every day, started instantly hot, and just got hotter as the day progressed. There was a native village at Changi, but we were not allowed to stray off the main street, but spent many a happy hour in Tong Sing's restaurant, when we had any money left. Thursdays were pay-days, once per fortnight, and it seemed strange to be paid for two weeks work with one bank note, for 45 dollars (£5.5.0d). this did not seem quite right as I earned sixteen shillings and four pence per day, which should have amounted to £11 plus, less of course those infamous barrack damages. Or did I pay income tax?. I did not worry about tax in those days.
But we went straight down to Tong Sing's and had steak egg and chips followed by pear berry fantasy. This was simply tinned pears, ice cream smothered in a purple sort of juice which in England we called monkey's blood. But we could walk on the beach, and sometimes the local Ladies of the night would be there, and as we passed (and we always did pass, remembering those awful films) they would shine a torch on themselves, what a sales technique ! The notorious prison at Changi was outside the camp and village and I never saw inside it. Nowadays it is a tourist attraction, as well as a prison, but then the war was too recent (this was 1949) to let any one inside just to have a look.
During the war British prisoners were forced to build the airstrip, and of course they sabotaged it, so it needed repairing. There were Chinese women working on the airstrip, carrying a yoke with a basket on each end, filled with stone or rubble. They looked as old as my grandmother. Other Chinese women sewed for us, shortening our shorts, which when issued came down to our knees, but nobody left them that way, so "Sew-Sew" made some money altering them for us. We employed a Bearer, and paid him two shillings and sixpence per fortnight to clean our room and make our beds (well you did not expect us to do that ourselves did you ?). He was Indian, black as night and wore t-shirt and shorts, no shoes. But after he had swept the dusty floor he stood on the bed with nice clean sheets to fasten the mosquito net. He was I think Hindu, and went mad if we stood on an insect, it was the spirit of his ancestors.
We had four uniforms, and wore one each day, then they were washed by the local Chinese laundry. Can you imagine washing shirts, shorts and undies for 1500 men every day. After washing they were starched, and left the seam inside very rough, causing some problems in the most delicate of places.
One incident I will never forget. Wilf and I were alone in our room when we heard a kitten crying. It had been locked in another room, but when Wilf called to it puss puss, it ran at him and sank it's teeth into his outstretched hand. Muttering naughty pussy, or something like that, he walked to the door and threw the kitten into the darkness. After he had gone on watch at midnight I was alone in my bed, just below the window, which was just an opening, no glass in it. I was wakened by the howling of a cat, and there on the window-sill, silhouetted against the moonlight was the biggest cat you ever saw It was forty feet long, twenty feet wide, with claws everywhere, honest ! I thought it was the kitten's Mam come for revenge, and lay terrified, I had not put down my Mosquito net and was wearing only shorts, and vivid pictures flashed through my mind of my tender flesh being torn apart by this monster. But it left me alone. I never liked cats. We left on the first of December to come home, on the good ship Devonshire, which had been built as a troopship and was not nearly so comfortable as the Empire Trooper. Christmas day was spent on board, and we had extra good meals, served by RAF officers, whom we had not previously seen on board.
There was a stop at Port Sudan in East Africa. Ashore we found that it was not a nice place at all, where the beggars maimed their babies so they would have more appeal as beggars as they grew, what ambition. The red light district (I don't mean the street lights) we were told was nearly as big as the town. While in port here we saw two men walking along the quayside, they looked like father and son. I think they were "fuzzy wuzzies" because of their thick mop of curly hair. They wore only a European shirt and each carried a spear. No one laughed at them. Back up the Suez canal to Port Said, where we changed back into Blue uniforms, the wind off the Med was very cold. We called at Valetta in Malta, but were not allowed ashore.
There we listened to a little radio, which was playing Grieg's piano concerto no 1. I used to like it, but it does not sound the same when the ship's telegraphist is blasting out signals in morse code at the same time. The Devonshire had only hammocks to sleep in, and we had started off in Singapore sleeping in them in shorts. By the time we arrived at Liverpool we were sleeping on the deck wearing everything we could. The beautiful blue Med was anything but, and there was a violent storm. The ship (remember no stabilisers) rolled and pitched it's way through the storm, the screws thrashing the surface of the water at times. But we arrived at Liverpool safely, it took several hours to disembark, 1500 men walking in single file down the gang-plank, through customs to the waiting trains. We docked at two in the afternoon and I did not get off until eight in the evening, standing waiting impatiently on the open deck all that time. We became hungry, and one lad found a little room down below where
someone had prepared packets of sandwiches, and we helped ourselves. Well they were for us weren't they? They had just forgotten to tell us. R.A.F. sandwiches are a meal in themselves, just two slices of bread with about a month's ration of corned beef between them, and a slab of fruit cake. Very satisfying. Off we went to Kirkham in Lancashire, where we were "demobbed" during the night. We were x-rayed at four o'clock in the morning! I had to pay £6 for my uniform to come home in, the only civvies I had were shark-skin shirt and shorts, hardly suitable for England in December. So I arrived home at twenty minutes to midnight on New year's Eve, no longer required. My country could manage without me at last. Or so I thought. A few months later came another letter, they had realised
that really they could not manage without me and would I mind helping them again. Of course not, so I went as requested for another fortnight. New uniforms were issued, and I went to Patrington, near Hull. The camp was on that little promontory of land sticking out near the river Humber, beyond the light-house, in tents. That was where we lived, we worked on the mainland, and were driven each day in a lorry along the single track road. The driver had obviously driven that road many times before, and new every bump and pot-hole. It was bad enough in the day-light being driven at high speed, wondering when he would tip the lorry over or put it in a ditch, but in the dark it was quite scary. By that time I was courting and spent most of my free time writing to my girl-friend. But a fortnight isn't long, and my National Service came to an end.
The motto of the Royal Air Force is ----Per Ardua Ad Astra,
--through hardships to the stars.
had a little of that ardua, but I never quite reached those stars.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Farming Memories
Phyllis Tulip (nee Duningham)
was born at the farm in 1925. She recalls that cattle were kept on the fields which were on the hill going down to Swalwell, behind what is now Spoor's Chapel. The cattle were taken from the farmyard into the slaughter house behind the adjoining butcher's shop (Turnbull's). Phyllis's childhood friend, Della Knott, (nee Gibbons) can remember going into the dairy at Glebe Farm to buy milk.
Front Street was little more than a cart track, motor vehicles being a rare sight. Phyllis and Della remember harvest time, when the hay was transported from the fields on Hay Bogies (flat wagons) pulled by horses. A pike of hay was hoisted onto the wagon by a chain, then was taken along Front Street to the farm to be made into stacks to provide winter fodder for the live stock. The two girls were allowed to ride on the back of the bogie in the place of honour, with several other local children running alongside trying to join them.
Potato Picking
"Discussing the price of potatoes in 1984, £2.50 for four stone, took me back down memory lane to the years 1919-23 when we had a week's holiday in the Autumn to help farmers to gather in their harvest.
All the local village farms such as Glebe, Grange, Windy-Hill, Wood-House, Southfields, Marshall-Lands, (all of which are now demolished), were first to recruit their temporary labour force. Those children who were left including me and wanting work, had to go to Riding Barns, at Fellside which was a long walk for an 8 o'clock start. We did not know what a tractor or a trailer was. We carried our own buckets, no plastic ones in those days; we also carried our own bait and a tea mash.
Old Ned's wage bill for approx 20 pickers would be around £1 a day.
Sometime later he would travel the village with horse and cart, selling and delivering potatoes 4/- a cwt 2/- for 4 stone.
Spud Bashing
Spud Bashing was not the preparation of mashing potatoes for the Sunday Dinner; but the cold, wet, back-breaking work of picking potatoes for the local farmer. I did it once in 1963 for the princely sum of 10 shillings a week. It was the worst job I had ever done in my life and was glad when the week was over!
Every morning, at 7.00 armed with enamel buckets and a couple of jam sandwiches. We would be taken up the Lonnen to one of the potato fields on Smith's farm where we spent all day bent over collecting the potatoes churned up by whatever the appliance was called which did the job. Half an hour for a jam sandwich and a cup of tea and we were back at it until 5.30 in the evening. The 10 bob was spent at the Blaydon Pavilion at the end of the week and I realised the true meaning of slave labour. Apparently, and incredibly, similar work still exists in the UK!!!
If you need a translation send us an email.
Picture Gallery
A Miscellany of pictures
Ellison Road running from Four Land Ends to the Teams
Whickham Avenue behind the Co-op
Four Lane Endslinking Swalwell with Whickham and Dunston
Ede Avenue running at right angles to the Crescent
Maisie's Butterfly Cloth
Reverend Little and anassistant polishingshell casingsin Whickham Rectory in 1914
Local Weddings
Kitty Jackson and Jeffery Campbell married April 1926at Christchurch
Maisie Jacksonmarried Mathew Kay at ChristChurch 1937
Mary Dorothy AnnSnowdon Fail marriedJames Alexander Davidsonin 1936
Local weddings
Ethel Miller andWilliam Richardsonmarried 1927 atChrist Church Dunston
Phyllis Laybourn andFred Wandlessmarried August 1938St Mary's the Virgin,Whickham
Dionne Robertsonarriving with her faherJohn at St Mary the Virgin,Whickham 1937
A Dunston Family's holiday snaps
Enjoying a walkalong Tynemouth Prom 1929
Enjoying Tynemouthsands 1929
Enjoying being in charge,Tynemouth beach 1936
Francis Newman
A Boy on the Railway
Francis Newman
At the age of 15 I worked for British Railways as a Messenger Boy reporting to the main office, next to the Staiths at Dunston. I picked up all the mail and used to deliver to all signal boxes from Dunston to Blaydon, bringing mail back to Dunston, then picking up the mail for delivery up the line to Marley Hill. I used to hitch a lift on the coal trucks cable set up to Lobley Hill top.
I sometimes sat on the front with the Onsetter, the man responsible for detaching the cable. We jumped off as the set ran on to bump into the other empties. The empties ran up from Dunston to Lobley Hill, an engine took them along to Watergate where the cable took them up to Pennyfine. If my luck was in I hitched a lift all the way up on the empty sets and all the way back down on the full sets. An engine from Marley Hill pit brought the coal trucks down to the bank top at Pennyfine and took the empties back to the pit. The engine drivers often let me drive the engine up, through Pennyfine gates and into the pit. I used to enjoy blowing the hooter and if I helped the fireman throw coal onto the fire he sometimes made me a bacon sandwich, cooking the bacon on a shovel held above the coals.
I was sometimes out of luck and had to walk all the way up from Dunston to Marley Hill and back again. On route I used to help the railway workers fill the signal lamps with oil and climb up to replace them. I became quite an
expert hammering nails into the sleepers to keep the rails in.
It was a great job in good weather but horrendous in bad weather. We often trudged miles during the blizzards, fighting our way through giant snow drifts. We had to deliver and collect the mail regardless of the elements. Because of my route I knew every worker on the line, the Brakes-man who slowed the sets down with a huge wheel in his box, the Gate-keepers who opened and shut the road gates, the Signalmen , the Linesmen, the Guards. I have happy memories of the way they all treat me as a young lad, with great friendliness, good
humoured banter, and sharing their food with me. I must have been the best fed lad in Sunniside in the 1950`s, such a kind hearted lot of men.
In later years when I worked at Marley Hill pit on the screens filling the trucks with stone free coal I used to watch the trucks coming and going with a different perspective. I think I was the only one who knew exactly how the coal
reached the Staiths and onto the ships at Dunston. For a month or two I had worked as a switch lad on top of the Staiths guiding the trucks to the bays where the coal dropped into the chutes sliding down into the ship`s hold.
Again, when I think of the On/Off Setters sitting on the front of the sets moving at about 60m.p.h. with a hammer in their hand ready to knock the washer off the hawser at the top/bottom of the banks, I shudder to think that they wore no safety harness and could have met an instant but horrific death. Even when they detached the hawser they had to climb on the truck side and jump clear, often falling down, especially in icy weather.
Will Harrison's reflection of a job on the railway
Will Harrison-Reflections of a job on the Railway
I was born on the 28th. March 1904 in a pit house at High Row, Marley Hill. When the houses were being altered we were offered a house in the "hole" but my mother wouldn't go because her sister had lived there in one which had been washed away, so an exchange was made with Mr. Prinn and we moved into a house in Thirlaway Terrace, through the chapel opening. There were 6 of us :- mother father grandmother and 3 children all in a one -bedroomed house. (My sister used to say "how did we all get in? Where did we all sleep Will?" I said "I don't know, but we managed" )
I had a dangerous job on the incline. When I got the job my father was a pitman earning 38s.0d per week and my mother was having hard pickings. I was earning a lot less. When the job on the incline came up the boss came to me one day and asked why I had not sent in the application form. I said I had been applying but I hadn't heard anything. He said, I want your letter on the Monday morning. So I sent my application in and he came back at the weekend and told me I had the job. My wages went from 35s.0d. per week to £3.15s 0d. My mother was over the moon. I had that job from 1923 and I closed the line on the 7th. September 1962, I was the last brakesman, and Norman Christer was the Bank-rider.. They closed the old railway and that was the oldest railway in the world.
We used to get visits from the Ravensworths at the castle, the Lord and Lady Ravensworth. Lord Ravensworth often used to come over and have a ride up on the incline. He was a single lad, just a bit older than me and he often used to come across regular to ride on the incline and then at about half eleven you would hear the bell at the castle and that was his time to get away. He set away off home, there was no colliery there then, no Watergate there was just the wood at each side.
loved my job and I made a friend there, a little robin, I used to come in in the morning and open my lunch bag and feed him right away, I used to shout Dick! Dick! and he would come straight out of the trees in the wood on to my seat in the cabin and he would have his lunch and he would have his feed and he would just sit there,. He came regular for two years and then the next time he came he sat on the hard floor and he only had a stump as it had been frozen in the winter and I christened him Peg Leg.
An interesting story. I was a boy of 15 year old and you can imagine at 15 what size you were. And the tool vans, there was three engines and a large crane and the big van and the long fat wagon and they would go up to Tanfield and it took three engines to get them up the incline.
So one time they got them up the incline and I was a switch lad at the bottom of the bank and everybody went home and left me, a little lad, to look after this runaway switch which was supposed to run them into a field . They came down the incline and took the outside lane passed my Cabin where I was and passed my runaway switch onto the flat on towards the top of Lobley Hill . The switch was in the cabin, and I closed it down and fastened it down and went along and put chocks in the blades so that they kept shut. I was there till two lads come down from Sunniside to keep me company. The two lads liked the idea of being on the railway and I had already sanded the road and we were just waiting when the chap who minded the gates and signal box at Lobley Hill, come along and he said they were a long time coming. He said "have you heard anything?"
I said "no I have been phoning but I cannot get no word where they are" And it was about half past eight or nine o'clock at night . There was a lamp coming down the incline and some men walking. You could see where they were. When he came back he said, "ring the bell son, give them four rings on the bell." This was an electric bell in the cabin which rang at the top of the incline and when I rang, the driver, who was sitting on the step outside the cabin at the top, heard the bell ring, so he knew then that we were ready for him.
They set away to go down the incline. They got to about the Marquis. The Driver was Jenny Jackson's father and he reversed his engine and the lever flew back and hit him in the jaw and he fractured his jaw. The fireman got on the step to jump off but he dare not jump off because it was going that fast. So they were worried about what I was going to do with it a runaway train , But it went straight on passed the runaway switch so I was pleased when it went passed, I had saved the runaway train.
That railway was important to Sunniside and Street Gate it gave people a lot of jobs. Everybody had an interest in the railway. Holmeside Terrace was built by the Inspector. There was a cottage at the top of Alexandra Terrace The name of the cottage was Bracken House, and I can remember the two old people who lived in it. They had a family of two boys and they both were railway guards and a sister May Dobson. She was in the first world war as a Police Woman. I can remember the old man sitting outside the door of Bracken House when I used to come home from the Chapel.
There is no sign of the railway there now only the Tanfield Railway.
Will Harrison on his 90th birthday in 1994
Sadly Will Harrison died in 1998 aged 94 after what he described as a "marvellous life".
Mining Memories
Mr. Tommy Wharton, Whickham. Coalminer.
Tommy Wharton
Tommy went to Whickham Front Street School until he was 14 years of age then after working for a short time on a farm he obtained a job in Axwell Park colliery. He worked there until it closed in 1954 then transferred to Blackburn Fell Drift mine where he stayed for 20 years. He then went to Marley Hill colliery where he did development work until 1982. Tommy and other miners were then moved to Monkwearmouth colliery at Sunderland, where he worked 15 miles out under the North Sea. In 1984-1985 the miners went on strike to prevent the wholesale closure of the mining industry. In September 1986 Tommy retired after working for 40 years "down the pit".
George Wallace
Taken from 21 Eleanor terrace,
looking up Whickham Banktowards the pit head
and pit yard, about 1940
During the strikes in the mid 1920s, my Grandfather, who had trained as a saddler in the first world war, was employed by the pit management as clerk and company weighman. My father and uncle were on strike and worked in the cobbler's shed to make a little money. This photograph was taken from his garden.
The Miners Strike 1926
We endured hard times in the village of Whickham in the depression years especially during the miners strike in 1926 as 60% of people were connected with Whickham, Whaggs, and Watergate pits. The strike was a very testing 26 weeks.
A soup kitchen was formed and run successfully in the grounds of Whickham Social Club. Boilers, which were coal fired gave a satisfying smell throughout the village.
The produce to supply these boilers was all given by local trades-people. Coal came from the colliery, bags of spuds plus turnips from the farmers, leeks, carrots, parsnips, etc., and from the market gardeners. The butcher would supply a barrowful of bones, often with a bit of meat on them, the grocer would provide a tin of bully beef or something similar and all labour was voluntary.
Basins, bowls, jugs and cans were prominent in the queue on soup days, in fact it was more of broth. If there was still a queue when the soup was running out, in went a bucket of hot water and every person received a ladle full. On special days uncooked fish was given out.
The Soup Kitchen Committee arranged comic football matches, including ladies, and various games and parades. These events raised money to purchase equipment and utensils such as ladles, scrubbing brushes, dishcloths, tea towels etc.
When the miner's strike was about two weeks old, games, chores, pastimes and pleasures almost ceased one afternoon when word was passed around that the Pit Galloways were being brought to Bank. Lads and men who had handled these ponies in the past collected at Whickham Pit gates to welcome their favourites.
They came up in the cage two at a time in care of the horse keeper and his assistant. Stepping out of the cage into daylight each pony was soon recognised by the lads who shouted out their names. There were Tip and Darky, Doctor and Dragon, Bullar and Freddie, Saxon and Sweep and so on. Lads were invited by the horse keeper to hold a pony in the pit yard until all (approximately 25) had been brought up.
Now some of these ponies had been underground for months, some even years. They were hard working, docile and very friendly. Now in the bright sunshine after two weeks rest they took some handling, there was plenty of hoof flying, (fortunately the shoes had been removed), prancing, neighing, squealing and kicking all round quite exciting.
All assembled they left the pit yard still prancing, neighing and kicking. Each handler had his work cut out to keep control.
As the strike was in the summer months, men and lads spent most of their time, after a few home chores, playing football and cricket on Cooks Field or taking a few favourite walks around the area. Fellside, Meadows, Sandy Lane, Washingwell Woods, Back Lonnon etc. were all popular places to walk.
Political meetings were often held off Front Street opposite the Hermitage, or on the ground behind Spoor P.M. Chapel . The speaker would often stand on a soapbox. Mr W. Whitely M.P. for the Blaydon division and Mr E. Shinwell from Seaham addressed and gave speeches to large gatherings of men.
Soup Kitchen in Dunston
In 1926 during the General Strike a soup kitchen was set up to help the needy during those hard times.
Hundreds of breakfasts and dinners were served in Christ Church, Church Hall, commonly known as "The Tin Mission".
Florence Wood's Memories of her father in Dunston Hill Hospital
In 1935 my Father was sent to Dunston Hill Hospital. He had been wounded in France and it was thought they would find something to relieve the pain and inflammation. My mother visited him there every week. There were many men in the hospital who lived there all their lives as they had nowhere else to go. Some had relatives, but because they were badly wounded or shell shocked, the relatives would not have them back. All the men wore blue suits in the hospital. After a few months he returned home but wasn't much better, so he was sent back in l937. Again my mother visited him every week, and on one memorable occasion took we three children with her. I remember the train journey to Newcastle and then a bus from Marlborough Crescent to Whickham. We were made a great fuss of by the men as they rarely saw children. One very cheerful man had had his legs amputated at the knees and he could move faster on his stumps than most of the other men on their feet. He would jump from the floor to his bed and then jump from bed to bed around the ward. He had a wonderful spirit and kept the ward entertained with his antics and jokes. Again my father returned home after a few months but never returned to the hospital because of the Second World War. He died in 1958 aged 64, which was quite a long life considering his health and experiences. He and my mother were married 35 years but she was a widow for 45 years as she lived until she was 101 years old.
The old wooden huts now stand empty. There is a new brick built NHS hospital catering for physiotherapy and a hospice ward.
Photographs taken at Dunston Hill Hospital
Billy Kendall (born 1906)
Mr Kendall was born in 1906 at High Row, Marley Hill. 
At the age of 14 he went down Marley Hill Pit for 10 shillings a week, working shifts of 9 to 10 hours. He worked at the pit for 48 years.
In 1938 he sat his Deputies Certificate, after being coached by a teacher from Marley Hill School. He also had to take a hearing and sight test.
As a deputy he had to take a Glenny Lamp down the pit to test for gas - the smaller the flame the more gas there was. He had to go down on Sundays to take measurements.
Eventually Bill became a Training Officer at Marley Hill Colliery following a 3 months safety-training course at Middlesbrough. He had to take the trainees for six weeks to the Morrison Busty at Annfield Plain. He retired at 64 years.
Bill was Secretary of Marley Hill Welfare Hall, which is now Marley Hill Community Centre.
Bill remembers:-
* the grass on the football pitch being withered as the result of its proximity to the acid plant at the Chemical Works.
*Elizabeth Kendall, nee Simpson had a shop in her house. She made meat pies for sale and sold basic foods, black bullets and yeast, as most women baked their own bread.
*Once a week the storeman from Burnopfield CWS coming round with his horse and cart selling everyday necessities.
*Eating chocolate sandwiches and ones with just sugar in them.
*When canaries were used to check for gas.
*When the pit ponies were pensioned off.
*Allotments, pigeons, leeks and chrysanthemums.
*The many deaths and accidents down the mines, particularly one when a man had his leg blown off.
*When the pits were taken over by the N C B in 1947.
*He is still known as his nickname of Lovely, which came about when he was an overman. If he wanted to compliment some one on their work he would say "lovely, lovely".
Mrs Ellis, caretaker at Marley Hill School (born 1908)
Mrs Ellis started in 1945 and was there for 18½ years.
There were 10 outside toilets, which regularly froze in the winter.
She was paid an extra 4 shillings for lime washing the toilets.
The meals for 150 pupils arrived in containers from Burnopfield Central Kitchen. There were 3 helpers.
Mr Bellerby, the Headmaster, lived in the School House for which he paid 2 guineas a week rent.
4 tons of coke was delivered to the school each month. It was dumped in the yard and she had to shovel it into the boiler house. There was often a heap of coke lying in the schoolyard.
Mrs Elllis helped at the Coronation celebrations in 1953, which was held in Marley Hill Welfare Hall. The Burnopfield Co op loaned a television set for the day and it poured down with rain. Mrs Ellis was responsible for the staff toilets.
Her salary when she retired was £4.14.6d per week with 2 days extra pay for her length of service!
Ronald Kennedy and Maurice Chevalier
Ron was a teacher at Brandon. When the First World War started all the young men from the school joined the Durham Light Infantry. Ron was the only one of them to return. He was badly wounded and taken prisoner. A German doctor saved his life. While in the POW camp, an officer asked in the Sergeant's mess if anyone could teach a French officer English. Ron volunteered and was introduced to Maurice Chevalier, who was a very good pupil with a good ear, even picking up the Durham accent.
Ron came home, married, and eventually came to Whickham Front Street School as headmaster.
He met Maurice in London and asked him how he got his new accent. Maurice replied "What is the point of being French and speaking like you?".
Maurice came to Whickham in l932 accompanied by his wife Yvonne. At that time Ron lived at Hillcrest at the top of Fellside Road. The house was besieged, there were so many people there that they pushed down the garden wall. Helen slept through the noise but it woke her sister Moyra and there were press pictures of her in Yvonne's arms.
Maurice Chevalier dining
with Ronald Kennedy
Maurice went to America with his one man show, the first person to do this, then in 1952 brought it to The City Hall, Newcastle.
A Maurice Chevalier
programme
Ronald Kennedy with
Maurice Chevalier
Signed photograph of M. Chevalier
The next time Maurice was in London he stayed at the Dorchester and booked the Kennedys in there too.
Ron and Maurice kept in touch all their lives, Maurice died in l972 and Ron in 1975.
Control Commission, Germany, October 1945-1946. Mary Holmes' Memories
After the defeat of Germany in 1945, a Control Commission was set up to support the Military Government, which was in place at that time. This Military government was gradually phased out and the Control Commission took over the role of " Local Government. It was responsible for Public Safety and Health, Transport, Intelligence (which included rooting out Nazis), housing etc. The advanced HeadQuarters was in Berlin. Recruits had to be 21 and were recruited from, civil servants and foreign office and demobbed force's personnel. The Control Commission gradually replaced the Military Government, becoming in fact the "Local Government".
Mary Holmes joined the commission just after her 21st birthday; she was posted to a division, which was at Bunde, near Bielefeld in Westphalia.
Working in the office was much the same as being at home. Life in general was certainly very different. The staff lived in an army type mess with army cooks! It was thought that some of the food meant for the staff ended up on the very active black market.
Uniform was worn (which was neither shape nor make) and army type rules had to be obeyed. There was a curfew at 9.00p.m. No fraternisation with local people was allowed. Germans had to step off the pavement to allow the British to pass by.
One compensation, was the social life, friends were made with work colleagues or ATS, many of whom, when demobbed returned to serve with the Control Commission.
Weekend passes were available to Paris and Brussels. On visiting Brussels for the first time Mary was amazed at the variety of goods in the shops compared with the shortages in Britain.
There were many parties, mainly organised by males competing with different and wilder ideas to attract the very few females available. To reach the American zone (where the best parties were) you had to travel through the Russian control points where security was very strict. The curfew had to be carefully adhered to or you would be stuck there all night and not get to work on time the next day!
Sadly Mary's mother became ill and she returned home to take care of her parents and siblings.
Mary came across many characters during her time there. One girl bought a Dachshund and decided to take it home when she went on leave. She drugged the dog with aspirin and took it on board ship in a zipped up shopping bag!
Another girl took tea and sugar and coffee from the mess (everyone wondered why there never was enough to go round) then took it home to sell. She then bought aquamarine gemstones to mount on silver obtained by melting silver spoons, which she had brought from England, returning to England on her next leave with jewellery to sell!
Fred and Jean Howitt
...were the landlord and landlady of the Coachman's Public House and always had a good display of flowers around the pub.
Fred and Alan Martindale, a customer, built the large planters which stand outside. The stone they used was from Sam Curry’s Electrical shop on Front Street and the soil too was donated by David Foggin from the grounds of his property. Jean won first prize in the Britain in Bloom competition for the best kept commercial premises.
Fred restarted the Leek Club and won second prize in his second year.
In the late 1970’s The Coachmans was used as a school-room by the pupils of the Parochial School because of a caretakers strike. Television cameras took pictures to publicise the use of pubs during the strike. Jean said that the cleaners had their work cut out cleaning everything in the early morning before the children came. She also remembers the time after a refurbishment when there were no ladies toilet facilities in the bar area. The ladies had to go out of the bar and walk around the back of the pub and into the lounge area where there were toilets. Alterations were later made to access the toilets from the bar by knocking a hole in the wall between the bar and the snug.
Whickham Memories 1954
That was the year that as Ann Riches, I married William (Bill) Urwin. Having lived in the Teams area of Gateshead until I married, it was wonderful after living in an upstairs flat to move into a new three bedroom, semi-detached house, in Whickham!
The house in Park Drive, Whickham, was one of the first private houses built by Alec Watson when permits for private building were issued. The Police houses built in Duckpool Lane, being the first houses built by him after the war. It was exciting to watch the houses being built and view the various stages imaging the day we’d move in and it would be our first home. We moved into number 3, on the 4th of December 1954. The lounge was a lovely big room, we had a carpet on the floor and net curtains at the windows to mask the fact that the room was empty of furniture.
It was hard at first to settle down as I was working at Proctor and Gamble in Gosforth, and had to leave home at 7.30 am to catch two buses to get there in time. There were no houses in Lambton Avenue then just fields right across to Swalwell, so it was easy to see if the 89 bus was in the distance and decide whether to walk or run to catch it. The fare was 5d single to Newcastle or Gateshead, and 9d return or 4s for 12 journeys.
In 1956, our daughter was born which was wonderful! I gave up working in an office but worked in the house instead.
One of the penalties of going into Whickham to shop was the fact that there still were no paths or roads and if wet, the pram, my pride, was a Silver Cross pram which kept sticking in the mud. I don’t know which was worse, going up or coming down.
There was a good selection of shops in Front Street then - Hadrian, Laws, Co-op, fruit shops, paper shops and the cottages along toward Back Row were lovely to look at. I was glad that some of the trees that were in their front gardens were left when the houses were demolished for the shops that now form St. Mary’s Green. Old ladies used to sit outside their doors in the afternoons wearing their white pinnies that were dazzling in the sun when it shone. The assistants in Hadrian and Thompson Red Stamp Stores always gave biscuits to the children when mums were shopping.
There have been many changes in the village since we came to live here. Whickham is not the little village we moved into but the camaraderie still exists. People always exchange greetings when meeting in the street.
We attended West End Methodist Church enjoying the fellowship and doing various duties for the church. In 1980, a new church was built in Ancaster Road and all members transferred thereThe green outside St. Mary’s Church is the responsibility of the council; the flowers there get better each year.
The Britain in Bloom Committee was formed in 1980 Bill was one of the first members due to his love of gardening. I was co-opted in 1998 onto the committee and enjoy serving on it, doing duties at the various shows in Lobley Hill and the Spring Flower Show in Whickham.
Park Drive now has a road, pavements, houses opposite and a smart permanent brick building built in 1960 to replace the wooden hut used by the Whickham Scouts.
The bank doesn’t get any easier but Whickham is a great place to live in.
Whickham Winters
From the early nineteen hundreds reaching up to approximately the nineteen sixties Whickham often experienced very severe winters. In the earlier part of the century there was ice and snow which lasted for days, sometimes even weeks.
After one of these heavy snow storms Whickham Council arranged to have a snow plough pulled through the village by several horses. Each horse had its own handler who would sit on its back with a cushion for a saddle. The horses were harnessed up like husky dogs pulling a sledge and always had a great leader.
On one occasion, there were two well groomed and cared for horses, in polished harnesses and shining
brassware. These belonged to the council, but the rest of the horses were supplied by various carting contractors such as Wright and Huston from Whickham, Beasley of Dunston and Oxley from Swalwell. The leading horse was owned by Ord Wright who had a stable on the Croft. It was a big black boney nag with a torn and tattered harness but was regarded as the strongest and most willing horse in the district.
The plough went up Fellside Road where there were drifts of snow up to three feet deep and ten to thirty yards long. The young people followed the plough.
That evening when the roads were almost clear of the normal horse traffic, crowds gathered on Whickham Bank to do a sleigh run from Whickham to Swalwell. This run which was about three quarters of a mile in length took them two or three minutes. Mary Minto remembers doing this run with her friends and family and having to haul the sledge all the way back up the hill.
On one occasion Dora Silcock broke her leg whilst sledging down the Bank and she got into big trouble from her mother, as her mother had forbidden her to go sledging.
Of course there were no fancy sledges in those days. All families made sledges of their own, of varying descriptions.
The sledgers could reach an uncontrollable speed on this run. Steering was by foot alone. Sledgers trailed their feet to guide them one way or the other. There would be a thunderous roar of sledges speeding in the night. It really was a good night's sport if you could achieve two runs.
There were three other places to go sledging. One was just off West Street which was popular being about 150 yards, not as exhilarating as Whickham Bank. Another popular run was down through the Chapel Fields to Swalwell. The third place was named Hilly Howley, a field west of the churchyard wall. It was not as long a run, but was very fast with the hummocks and dips towards Coalwell Cottage.
There was often a brazier at the top of the field, next to the garden wall, which was a great comfort to the sledgers. The boys used to collect coke, fill the brazier up, then roast potatoes which would be ready when they returned.
At weekends during daylight, Carr Pond was the place to be for sliding on ice. The Carr Pond was situated on Windy Hill. Very few people had ice skates in those days. Ted and Betty Kerrigan were said to be quite artistic on ice. Betty, a school teacher, was able to perform a cute figure of eight on her skates.
The code of dress for these activities was trousers for men, women, boys and girls. This would be the only time you would see women or girls wearing trousers. The ladies often had to borrow their brothers pit hoggers (short fustian trousers worn by pitmen) to wear during these leisure times.
All the fields, including the Carr Pond, are now housing estates.
Memories of Bill and Betty Oloman
Billy the youngest of four children to Mr and Mrs Oloman was born, in a house belonging to his grandparents, on the 22nd January 1922. Billy's grandfather was the coachman to Mr Hunter (of the Tyneside ship building family). The cottage was the Coachman's Cottage, Grange Farm, Burnthouse Lane. The Hunter's lived in a big house on Burnthouse Lane.
There was a fire at the big house. It was so badly damaged they did not bother to rebuild it. There was a small section which was habitable. An elderly brother and sister belonging to the Hunter family did stay there for a short time. They were quite elderly and died shortly after the fire. Billy said there were a number of houses along Burnthouse Lane including Laundry Cottage, Dinsdale House,(which was built by Blyths of Birtley Brickwork fame), Green Shutters and Appletree House.
Billy thought it quite amusing that his grandfather who was a teetotaller lived in a house which one day would become a pub.
Billy's father, William Oloman, was a time-served joiner and a clerk of works for various councils. During the war he worked as an assessor for the War Damage Commission.
Billy's father built a house on Grange Lane for his family to move into.This property is still standing and is near Westacres Avenue. The house was named 'Dryburgh' for Pastor William Dryburgh, who had been a Presbyterian Minister at the Ebenezer Chapel, Swalwell. The Oloman family, having been Presbyterians at one time, had great respect for this gentleman. Pastor William Dryburgh was the father of Margaret Dryburgh who had died in a Japanese Prisoner of War Camp.(see People of Note,Swalwell)
Billy and Betty Roberts married in the Parish Church of St. Mary the Virgin on the 17th November 1942. Unfortunately they would only have three days together before Billy had to rejoin his regiment. They would not see each other again until December 1945 when Billy came home for a month's leave.
Betty's father had come to Whickham to work as a manager at Easey's farm. The whole family had to help out. When Betty got older she drove the milk cart delivering milk. She was offered the job of Dairy Maid with a cottage to live in so was able to provide a home for Billy when he returned from the war. The cottage on Windy hill was demolished to make way for The Broadway.
Betty and Billy have one daughter Wendy who was born in 1947 and a couple of grandchildren.
Bill and Betty have lived for several years in Park Cottage, School Lane, Whickham. They have been prominent members of the community all their lives. In 2002 they will celebrate their diamond wedding anniversary.
Park Cottage near the old
Parochial School buildingOnce confirmed into the Church of England, Billy became a very active member of the Parochial Church Council, Sides Person, Server, and Reader. Billy was Church Warden for St. Mary's for several years. Betty has always been a very active member of St. Mary's Parish Church, working on many things including several fundraising events.
Billy had the distinction of being the first Conservative Member on Whickham Urban District Council.
Billy Oloman died in Febraury 2007.
Memories of My Younger Days by Thelma Liddle
Betty Oloman's father worked at Easey's Farm in Whickham and Betty used to deliver milk by means of a horse drawn milk cart to local houses and the shops. The milk would be in big churns and the people would pour the milk from the churns into jugs. As Betty had to pass our house, in Cheviot View, to return to the farm, she would often give us a lift to school. This really was the treat for the day, going to school on the milk cart. Easey's Farm is where the riding stables are today.
In those days, north beyond Cheviot View, there were no houses. It was all just fields, which were called the Banky fields. Almost every winter, it never failed; the children were out on their sledges sliding down the hill.
After the war, in about 1945, Thelma remembered that they held bonfires on the Church Green; the Church Green was not what it is like today, in fact, the green was quite rough and not landscaped. There were bonfires there in November and they also held special bonfires there to celebrate both Victory in Europe and Victory in Japan day. Also bonfires were built in the Rectory field.
Thelma remembers seeing the one in the Rectory field. She said it was absolutely enormous and everybody was there. After that it sort of caught on. Every May they would have a May Queen. They would have a bonfire the night after the May Queen had been picked and the May Queen would go through the village on a decorated float.
Nearly every year one of the Scott's girls would be chosen to be May Queen. This went on for about eight or nine years. The bonfires held in November were also held on the Church green.
Ron and Thelma related a story which Skipper Heron told them about an incident when war had been declared. He and somebody else had hidden all the church silver and other church items so that if ever any Germans came up this way they would not be able to get the silver from the church. They hid it underneath the altar.
They also attended many evenings down at the Old Scout Hut. One in particular, which stands out, is when Skipper Heron showed them some wonderful old slides of the Life of Whickham. These slides, by the way, were not the plastic film of today, but made of glass.
The scout hut was a popular place for dances and social gatherings, typical old fashioned dances and socials where the girls all sat on one side of the room waiting to be asked to dance and the lads on the other. The Miners Welfare, now Whickham Sales room, held dances and this was the most popular place for holding wedding receptions.
There was a sweet shop called Donaldson's where they bought their sweets. It was absolutely wonderful when the sweets came off ration and we could have the choice of the shop.
Bill (William ) Thew. Morpeth U3A
"Living in the Colliery houses, Broadpool Green, an idyllic spot built in the middle of a "Parkland" with surrounding fields, trees, copses and views to Sheriff Hill and Penshaw Monument."
"A night watchman together with his coke brazier and canvas shelter. He was an elderly man who stayed there all night tending the red oil lamps along the road workings.
When the snow arrived it was everyone to the "Chapel Fields", these being the fields between Whickham and Swalwell. What a ride this was and what a walk back."
The Church Green wasn't green and was a rough surface where the annual "Hoppings" came and where all other events were celebrated, such as the Coronation of George VI with singing, processions and bonfires etc.
In Church Chare the large hall was used for Silent Films and when the chairs were moved for roller skating.
"The Woodman's Arms Public House was a house with two rooms, the bar and the singing room or best end."
"The Gibside Estate was used during the last war as a training ground for the Army and the Home Guard for grenade and Sten gun practise etc., the canteen being in the now derelict hall."
" When Gateshead Council took over Whickham Urban District Council the village lost its identity and became a suburb."
I enjoyed my childhood in Whickham, and these are just a few of my recollections.
John Handy (born 1904) remembers
After leaving school in July 1919, having difficulties finding work and finally finding work in October as an office boy at Hall Laidlers Shorthand School, Grainger Street, Newcastle.
Walking to Swalwell Station each morning to catch the 8.40 train to Newcastle, then running to Grainger Street, arriving just in time at 9am. returning in the evening and finding the walk up the hill so much harder!
His father giving up his job at Armstrong Whitworths to build three terrace houses in Whaggs Lane, living in one of them and eventually buying houses in Dunston the rents of which supplied their income (supplemented by occasional building jobs)
Leisure time spent as scorer at Whickham Cricket Club and travelling by bicycle to away matches at Swalwell, Blaydon and Ryton whilst the others travelled by open topped charabanc- very uncomfortable!..
Progress from a bicycle at 21 to a 2 stroke motor cycle made at Scotts of Elswick, then moving on to a BSA.
A Whickham man named Taylor, who lived in Burnside Lane making cars on Scotswood Road, made perhaps 40 and then gave up. Finally progressing to a car himself when he married and moved to Newcastle.
Working as a supervisor of the shorthand writers (all male who had to achieve 200 words a minute and worked at courts in the area and various Government Enquirers in the North of England) receiving and arranging the typing of the text.
Retirement 1971.
Returning to a new bungalow at Whickham, built on land he had known as a farm and seeing many, many changes. Finding new houses, roads, shops, schools and many local landmarks gone. Whickham at least twice the size.
"I have seen many changes since 1971 but still enjoy living in Whickham where I intend to end my days".
Swalwell Holy Cross Church Choir 1930
Vicar, Reverent Pettilegean, Organist, Foster Bruce
Choir members, Harold Bruce, William Brown, Joe Jobling, William Mantle, Joe Hetherington, Tom Jewitt and James Smailes. James is holding the banner on the left. Other members unknown.
Stan Wallace remembers his parents
His parents were Elizabeth and Nicholas (known as Cissie and Nick).
Cissie was the oldest of ten and more or less responsible for the nine siblings. As a young girl she worked at Carr's Pawnshop and at Miss Barnard's Drapers Shop on Ravensworth Road.
Nicholas's mother a widow remarried when he was fourteen. His stepfather did not want him in the home so he moved into lodgings.
Before he married Cissie he worked at Dunston pit, then joined the army and was sent to France but was sent home to work in the pit (it was the only bit of luck he had!). At that time Nicholas worked at Dunston Colliery. On losing his job at Dunston he went to work at Backworth Colliery.
They moved into rooms behind a Butcher Shop next to the Plough Pub in Killingworth Village. Unfortunately he was soon again out of work. When she wanted to visit her mother she had to push her two small sons in a pram to the Teams where her mother lived. Eventually they got a rented house in Clavering Avenue, Dunston where Derwent Tower now stands, but still no work.
In addition to all the mundane house chores, his mother did washing for other people.
Some of you will know what the "Means Test" was in those days. It meant you were given "dole" if you were not working.
One local man who was on this tribunal had the gall to call my father 'work-shy'. Nothing could be further from the truth! He cobbled boots and shoes, cut all our hair. I was never in a barber's shop until after I was married.
He had an allotment garden where he had hens and ducks and grew all of his own vegetables. My brother and I sold these from door to door in Dunston, getting a penny here and a half-penny there. It all helped!
He made beautiful furniture which is still in use to this day sixty years on. There was a treadle lathe in the bedroom where he turned the legs for tables and chairs. I can still smell the everlasting glue pot always on the boil on the gas stove. When it was dark nights, my brother and I helped father to carry planks of oak wood from Newcastle, along the 'Rabbit Banks' to Dunston. This was necessary in case anyone informed the dreaded ' Means Test'
Except for six weeks work labouring making the bowling green at the new Dunston Park, he was on the dole for thirteen years.
After this period of idleness he got on the short list for a dustman's job for Whickham Council. He was a short man and being desperate for a job, any job, I remember him standing in front of the mantelpiece after stuffing newspaper into his shoes to gain extra height because the minimum height for a bin-man was 5'3" and he was just under.
Imagine a short list for a bin-man's job.
He didn't get the job but the next time that it came up he got it. Whether joining the Labour Party had anything to do with it I don't know.
Later in his life I got him a job as a crane driver at J.W. Ellis, Swalwell.
Father died aged 82 and mother died aged 85. I have fond memories.
Photograph supplied by Audrey Simpson nee Wallace.
Bill Urwin's Memories of Dunston. (born 17th May 1916).
Bill now retired lives in Whickham, he remembers the early days when he lived in Dunston.
His parents lived in Davidson Street when they were first married. Bill was born in 1916 Davidson Street, and moved to Dunston Road (previously known as Asylum Lane) just before he started school. He lived just below Park Terrace which consisted of seven pairs of flats originally built for the workers at the Asylum. Dunston Road at that time was just a rough track.
He attended Dunston Church School from 1922 until 1934 when the school closed and he transfer red to the Hill School for his last two years. Whilst at the Church School, the head teacher died, and the whole school attended the funeral. The Reverend McIntosh took the service.
When he left school in 1936, as there were no jobs he was sent to ‘sign on’ and told to attend the “Dole School" with several others at Blaydon.
They received no ‘Dole Money’ but a voucher for the return bus fare from Dunston. They spent half a day being shown how to make bread tins with loose bottoms from sheet metal then spent three and a half days playing football because there was nothing else for them to do.
So back to looking for a job again!
He sometimes worked at Kennedy’s Market Garden which was on the site of the old asylum and was run by two brothers, George the businessman and Billy the gardener. The Kennedy’s lived in part of the old asylum, which at that time was lit by paraffin lamps. They used the pavilion, (which in asylum times was used as a dance hall for the inmates) for storage and bringing on plants. The pay was penny hapny per hour.
At other times he worked for Jack Havis who had a small dairy herd and paid twopence per day. If Billy Kennedy found out you had been working for Jack Havis he would not give you any more work. Jack and his sister Mabel, delivered milk daily by pony and trap, the milk being transported in large urns and measured out in gill, pint or quart measuring jugs into the customer’s own container.
He remembers :-
Morrison, the owner and manager of the Imperial Cinema known locally as the ‘Bottom Hall’. For more information see People and Cinemas sections.
The Albert Picture Palace known as the "top hall". 
In the 1920’s Mr. Clark, the manager at the Staithes built the white house that is still on Dunston Road, it was modelled on the main building of the asylum and was near to the site of the asylum.
The two ferries across the Tyne that the workers used to get to the factory. See Transport section for more information.
In 1926 the miners digging for coal in the Banky fields and as a result of this a workable seam was found that became known as the Watergate Seam.
The dedication of the War Memorial on Remembrance Day when Dunston Brass Band and the Silver Band performed and the Scouts and Guides marched, there as well as civic dignitaries
Dunston Silver Band playing each Sunday night opposite the Hill School in summer.
The Dunston Silver Band was third one year at the Durham Festival.
Dunston Band had a banner and the name was spelt DUNSEL probably a miss-spelling of Dunseil the original name for Dunston.
Dunston Park was opened in 1930. The work to develop the park was carried out by men on the dole! Prior to the opening, people used to walk over the spare ground to get to Ravensworth Road.
When the Ambulance Station was built on Dunston Road,(where the present petrol station now stands), in 1939 because of the coming war.
During the Second World War there were wardens working as lookouts from the top of the Power Station using ordinary binoculars. They worked in shifts, two at a time, looking out for enemy planes. It was thought that Dunston riverside area and Vickers Armstrongs on the north bank of the Tyne were targets for the German planes.
Extra staff were taken on at the Power Station some came down from Scotland and some were European Refugees. Local people were encouraged to offer lodgings
At the end of each shift outside the Power Station children would wait to ask the men if they had any bait. This also happened outside Vickers Armstrong where the children there would shout- “sportingmanorbaitleft�?- obviously the bait for themselves and the Sporting Man for their unemployed dad! The sandwiches were almost always bread and jam.
During the war Bill was exempt from the forces because he was in a reserved occupation making tanks etc., and when ships were damaged and sent to Dartmouth for repair, he was one of a team sent from Newcastle to repair them.
He was on duty for St. John and helped, despite working 12 hour shifts at Vickers, to ferry wounded personnel from Newcastle Central Station to various hospitals in the area.
He also worked at Dunston Hill Hospital when able to.
Bill was employed at Vickers Armstrongs’ from 1932 until November 1980, when he retired. Four members of his family were employed there, three brothers and their father. They all served and gained their apprenticeships as Fitters and Turners.
He was a member of St. John’s Ambulance Brigade, for forty-seven and a half years. Being the longest serving member in the north, he received a certificate for long service from the Lord Lieutenant of the County to commemorate this. He already had a certificate for forty-five years service.
For the full story listen to it on our Audio CD
Maisie (born 1908) remembers. (Maisie lived in Dunston until 1954.)
Running messages for neighbours and receiving half a slice of jam and bread as a reward and being sent back to return the money and apologise, on the occasion she accepted a halfpenny!
Playing games in the street. Her favourites were Ring a ring a roses, cannon, hidey, skipping and knocky nine doors!
Going to the matinees at the Imperial and Albert Hall cinemas- entry was 1d or 2d.
Working as a telephonist at the Coke Works, then owned by Mr. Reichswald.
Earning 25/- a week ( a big wage for a women in the 1920s) which went to her mother who returned 5/- pocket money. (She lived at home until her marriage in 1937).
Saving 1/- a week to buy bedding, crockery, ornaments for her bottom drawer.
The many foreign ships coming into Dunston Staiths.
Tramcars the only transport.
Dr. Foster travelling to visit his patients on a bicycle.
Standing in the back yard in a queue in all weathers to see the doctor at the surgery.
Washing day! Getting up early to light a fire under the setpot, ladelling the boiling water into the poss-tub, then "bang, bang, bang" with the poss-stick.
Wearing artificial silk stockings and only once affording to buy a pure silk pair!
Her father working as a trimmer at the Staiths.
Maisie remembers a hard, but very happy life " We didn't have much but we had happy times, making our own pleasure".
"We were not ashamed of what we were, or what we had not".
"It's what you do that matters!"
Maisie Kay (Mary Jackson) born December 1908, interviewed January 2000.
Sheila Carver Remembers Swalwell.
My mother moved to Mill Farm in 1911. I was born at Mill Farm, Swalwell the home of my grandparents George and Hannah Oxley and formerly the home of my great grandparents George and Elizabeth Oxley.
We never had a library but books were brought to Swalwell Church one evening a week. Most of the churches in my youth had some form of children's club running. The Headmaster too used to show films one evening a week and we used to pay 4d in old money. The teachers also often ran some form of club in the evening.
The Hoppings came every year to Swalwell. They used to be on the field behind Ridley Gardens. They used to get their water from the people who lived on Ridley Gardens and the children whose parents supplied the water received free rides.
All food was delivered to the door in those days from Grocers to Green grocers to Butchers and even vans with cakes.
Children from Swalwell, would come on Easter Monday and ask them if they could roll their eggs down our hill. My grandmother would sit on a chair at the bottom supplying eggs to children who did not have any. After this event, she would always direct her hens to the field and they would pick up all the shells dropped by the children from the eaten eggs.
Lots of children would play on the Hikey Bridge as we called it, because we liked jumping up and down on to make it move.
Sadly, grand-dad Oxley, died in 1946, and we shifted from the farm then and Uncle George went to live in the house.
Diphtheria - Sheila Carver
In 1944 both my sister and I had diphtheria. I was in hospital for six weeks but my sister was in for eight weeks and never off the danger list because she was terribly ill and could not walk for months. Lots of children died when we were in Norman's Riding Hospital. I know two children from Swalwell died so I suppose that we were lucky. I sadly was the carrier and had been immunized just the month before by Doctor Edward Smith. They were doing the immunizations in the old house, which once stood in Whickham Park. We were given nothing to eat for three weeks only hot milk, which I hated. We were also given a dose of Cascara every Friday night, such vile stuff, how primitive, every child could not possibly have needed that! Such were the times, doctors today would not agree with that policy.
Dunston Christ Church 1938.
Brownie Pack outside the
"Tin Mission", Church Street.
Miss Leonard and her
Sunday School class also
outside Christ Church Parish Hall.
Margaret Campbell.
"Worrying all the first day at school (1935), about home time.
I had heard such tales of rough behaviour from the older boys toward the new starters. Approaching the street outside the gate I heard a boy shout, "Leave her alain she's a Campbell's lass". Word had apparently spread that dad, after my older sister's experiences, had taught his daughters to defend themselves!
Hating percussion lessons, the teacher always chose me to be either conductor or to play a large triangle. I didn't like everyone looking at me and I wanted to play the drums. This task always went to a boy!
Playing with my (second hand) doll's pram, using someone else's tennis racquet for hot rice as our family didn't have one.
Emulating, Sonja Henie, on one roller-skate! A pair was expensive. You could actually buy one skate, which could be altered to fit different size feet; this was then used by the three Campbell girls.
Playing in "The Bungalow". Living in a tiny flat and making all our clothes and some for others, my mother was desperate for space and peace and quiet. My parents heard that someone had a pigeon cree for sale. It was duly inspected, negotiated for, dismantled and re-erected in our backyard leaving just enough room to get to the outside toilet, coal house, the gate to the back lane and access to the back lane shelter. It was scrubbed and disinfected, then painted, wallpapered, carpeted, furnished and equipped with crockery etc., We had some wonderful times there (and ate meals carried out on a tray by mam).
Walking with my family, around the Urban District. Sometimes 6 or 7 miles in an evening!
Mary Williams remembers.
"At last, the day arrived for me to start school. I had my new sixpenny case, from Woolworths. In it, was an apple for playtime. I reminded my mother frequently that she was to tell the mistress I was wearing my new boots. At last it was our turn to enter the mistress's office where I constantly nudged my mother and indicated the boots. At last, she said "Mary has new boots especially for today". They were duly admired. Then I was taken into the "baby" class to start what turned out to be a very happy school life.
"In my early days at school I hated to get it wrong. (I am still the same).
On arrival at school one day, I was horrified to find I did not have a slate rag. (Writing and sums were written with chalk, on a slate and a rag was essential). The said rag had to be held up in one hand and your handkerchief in the other at prayers (now called assembly).
What to do? I dashed into the toilet and tore a square out of the front of my petticoat it was plain green cotton with a lace edging.
All went well at school but when I got home, it was a different matter. My mother was furious. The "slate rag" was washed, then, sewn in again. I had to wear it for months, presumably to teach me that clothes were expensive and had to be looked after, carefully.
How I hated that petticoat"
In times of hardship.
"In the early 1930s when food was short some children went hungry. We were very fortunate in that my grandfather had an allotment, father's friend had a market garden, a cousin had a butcher's shop where we could get marrow bones for broth, and an uncle who was a railway linesman on the Carlisle route did a spot of poaching in his lunch hour.
One day my brother and I noticed children asking workers from the new Power Station if they had any " bait" left, and were given a newspaper parcel, which, when opened, seemed to be sandwiches. We stationed ourselves in a strategic position, "asked" and received a parcel, which proved to contain a jam sandwich - not of interest to us at all. Next minute we both received a sharp smack on the bottom, and were frog-marched home, by a very irate grandmother. Who lectured us all the way on how fortunate we were in always having enough to eat without any need to beg in the street - no treats for us that day from grandmother."
Flying Kites
Outdoor games were played in cycles-top and whip, marbles, skipping ropes, but when it came to kites my brothers and I were always sent up the road to ask Mr Clark to make us one with the instruction “don’t forget to ask nicely and�? DON’T FORGET TO SAY PLEASE.�?
We were always told to come back the next day and bring one string (saved from one old tattered kite).
The next kite was always ready- a cross made with two straight pieces of stick and part of the wooden hoop of a butter barrel was used to make a rounded top, the construction was carefully covered with newspaper skilfully glued on then a tail string with newspaper bows all the way down- wonderful Mr Clark would then send us over to the park to play fly it.
Sometimes he called us back and added some more tailing-perfect. Flying the kite usually kept us busy during the school holidays.
My Life Story as told by Noel Garvin.
Spoken and recorded by Noel for his family and given to us by his wife.
Thank you Cath.
My early life told by Noel Garvin
12/09/2005
Noel Garvin
"I was born the 21st December 1921. I lived at 16 Clavering Avenue, Dunston. It was a two bed-roomed upstairs flat and in those days, families all lived close together. My Gran lived in a flat the same as ours at the top of the street, it was number 130. Now my Aunt Jean lived at the bottom of the street at number 14. Now times in those days were very hard in the 1920s, there was very little work and people used to stand around the street corners in groups hoping they might get some little job to do for a few coppers. My father in a way was lucky now, lucky because he was a miner and in those days miners used picks and shovels to dig out the coal. They didn’t have machines like they have now. No pithead baths. They used to come home from work black dirty and wet with the coal dust. My father had been right through the 1914-18 war and very few men lasted that long. Unfortunately he had got gassed when he was in the trenches and it had left him with a very bad stomach and very poor health and in those days if you were off work sick someone would take your job off you so you had to work it doesn’t matter how bad you were so many mothers had to work. We had to help the family by taking in washing, making things, going out to work anything or anywhere to get money to exist on.
My mother was a charwoman she used to go down to the Cross Keys every morning and scrub out the bar. I remember getting a ride on her back while she scrubbed the bar floors then, when she had finished, she would come back from work, come home, get changed and then go back to the Cross Keys that was about eleven o’clock because she was a barmaid. Now my mother’s aunt was the manageress of the Cross Keys so that’s how she helped mother out so mother worked from seven o’clock in the morning until ten thirty at night. That was when all the bars closed.
Now I started school in 1926 that was the time of the General Strike and all of the men in the country came out on strike. They came out for more money, as they couldn’t live on the wages they got. It was a terrible time for everyone; people were dying because they had nothing to eat. Finally the bosses forced the men back to work because they couldn’t stand and let their family starve to death. So for the next few years things were very slow to get back to normal. By the early thirties you could see a glimmer of hope.
Now in the early thirties we moved to 26 Oak Avenue. It was almost a new council house with a garden. Behind the garden was all green fields right up to Whickham Highway. It was lovely to play in the fields. I was about ten years old then. Now in the winter we used to sledge right from the highway, where the Highwayman pub is now, right down to Ede Avenue in Dunston. Eeh, it was great!
There was always plenty to do even in the winter but, like all boys, we tried our best to keep out of trouble. Then in 1934 my mother’s aunty who had the Cross Keys died and my mother who worked all those years, well for the past few years had run the pub herself because her aunt was ill was made manageress so we left Oak Avenue and moved to the Cross Keys. I was about thirteen year old then and was getting about on my bike and getting ready to start work because working life you know began in those days early because everybody left school at fourteen."
My first job-apprentice at Taylor, Pallister and Company, Engineers
as told by Noel Garvin
Taylor Pallister's site
Noel Garvin outside Taylor Pallister's site
Noel Garvin outside Taylor Pallister's site
"Now seven days after my fourteenth birthday I started work at Taylor, Pallister and Company, Engineers. They had their factory underneath the coal staithes at Dunston. Now this was a small firm with about ten men and about fifty boys, all young apprentices. I was lucky to get a job. As I’ve told you before that jobs were very hard to get and I only got it through my mother knowing Mr Taylor that got me the job. He used to come into the bar with a lot of sea captains and a lot of engineers and get jobs and that’s how my mother knew Mr Taylor.
So I started on the Monday, a small built little lad about 5’3ins and 7 stones in weight and with my little new cap on as all the men in factories wore caps in those days. I’ll try to give you some idea of what it was like inside the factory. When I walked into that factory on that Monday morning, eeh, I though it was like the black hole of Calcutta! The factory was a large wooden hut with a corrugated roof the walls were made from used railway sleepers that had holes through from where the lines had been bolted on. Now inside it was black dark there was little lights here and there but no windows anywhere. The floor was an earth floor and dotted all over the floor were machines that were standing on flat blocks of concrete and running up from all of the machines was dozens of belts onto the pulley wheels above you on the ceiling that was driven by a single shaft that ran the length of the shop. A large motor at the other end with a big flat belt drove all of the machinery. The noise and the dust was terrible but you had to get used to it.
Now my first job was a messenger boy. I used to go for nuts and bolts over to Newcastle. I used to go on a tram and we used to get 3d to go to Newcastle but if you were crafty you used to get off the tram at Gateshead Station and pay 1/2d on the toll bridge and walk over into Newcastle which wasn’t very far so that means to say that you saved a 1/2d, and coming back you’d do the same thing – that’s a penny you’d save that day. Now we had to go sometimes three sometimes four times a week you know for different things because our small factory didn’t have any stock or didn’t have any stores, they couldn’t afford it, they used to buy the stuff they needed at that particular time. Now if you went over sometimes four times a week that was fourpence that was quite a lot of money! Now I lasted doing messages for about six months then I started in the can lab.
Now my job was making the cans – the men’s teas. Now all the men brought the cans. Inside the cans there used to be like a little ball of newspaper actually when you opened it out inside this was tea, sugar and thick milk rolled into ball. This used to be scraped off with a ruler you had in your pocket and then you put it into the cans. Now I used to put this huge cast iron kettle on the coke stove to get the water boiling. It was so heavy I had to ask some of the lads to give is a hand to lift it because I couldn‘t lift it when it was full of water. Now they used to stoke the coke stove to get it red to boil the water. Then this is where your cap comes in, you had to take it off and wrap it round the handle of the kettle because it was that hot by now, after a little while your hat used to get burned or singed through in the middle and sometimes when you put your cap on you only had a bit of the cap at the front and a bit at the back. It was nearly in half but all apprentices went through that but if you made the tea and the water wasn’t boiling or you got the cans mixed up the men would chase you and if they caught you they would kill you but what you had to do was to get a hold of the foreman and hide behind him, now they wouldn’t dare touch you. Then that went on for about six months and then you started to serve your time.
Now to serve your time you went on different machines and the boy on the machine showed you how to work it then he moved up to another machine and so on and so on so about every six months you moved up to do a different job so that you were really and truly taught well because it was a small firm and you had to be able to do everything even though you were only an apprentice.
Now in those days you only got one week annual holiday a year. Now this was the week that a couple of labourers used to clean the factory out. Well really it was a question of hygiene because as I’ve said before those sleepers were made of wood and they were really and truly filthy with different things so they used a white spray to lighten the factory up because it was dark and also like a lime wash the building over. Now if you left your coat or overalls hanging on a nail on the wall or you left your spanners on a machine when you came back the whole lot of you would just think the whole factory had been literally sprayed white, well it was. When you came to lift your spanner off the machine there was the imprint of your spanner on the machine and if you took your overalls off there was the imprint of your overalls or your coat on the wall.
These labourers never shifted anything and it was funny to see the lads or the men putting coats or overalls on as they were all striped where they’d been hanging up with the whitewash.
Now as I’ve said, the dust in the factory was terrible at times so what we used to do with the cast iron dust off the machines we used to get a shovel and spread this cast iron dust all over the floor and then used to get a watering can and water this cast iron dust. Now the dust and water used to rust and used to leave a hard skin on so over the years the lads had spread all this cast iron dust and watered it so that in places it was quite hard so this was the idea of trying to make the floor level.
Now once you had mastered all of the machines you then went outside to work on the ships. Now a fitter used to come and say to the foreman “I want an apprentice to go and work with me”. The foreman used to shout for a boy and you used to get your tools and the man’s tools and carry all his tools we used to go down to the jetty. Sometimes when you were walking down the jetty the coal would run down your back and on your head because they were loading the ships up, now as I’ve said before the factory was underneath the staithes and when the coal wagons used to rumble across the top of the staithes the whole staithes used to shake and coal dust used to come shimmering down and get on your head. Sometimes you used to look like a pitman by the time you got on board the ship.
Now when you got on board the ship, a lot of the ships, the olden ships had pipes, steel pipes that used run from the engine room right through the ship along the deck and on to the winches, because the winches were all driven by steam. Well in the winter a lot of these pipes used to split with the ice and what not so our job was often to put new pipes on and while you worked at one end of the pipe the man worked at the other and you watched what he did and you did the same. Sometimes the man used to say. “Go along to the galley”, you know what the galley is on a ship it’s the cookhouse. “Go and see if the cook has any nice tasty bits for you, you know a cup of tea or something like that”. You used to run along and of course in a morning, a lot of the sailors, if they had been out the night before drinking, didn’t want breakfast. The cook used to cook bacon or sausages in a big square pan about two feet square. This pan, you could hardly lift it, full of sausages, he used to say “Go on lads, get rid of them”. So we used to pick up the pan and run down and have a good feed of sausages or whatever was going, have a cup of tea and as I say the sailors and the cooks were always very good to the apprentices because you know we were always hungry. Lads of sixteen and seventeen year old, well, we would eat anything! Sometimes if the ships, if we didn’t take them the coal used to be loaded on and they’d be left. So we used to fill our pockets up with apples and things like that. We were up to all the good tricks that were going.
Down in the engine room, sometimes we used to have to work down the engine room. When you work down the engine room, eeh, it was terrible to have to work down there it used to be frightening!
When you look down from the top of the engine room doorway you could hardly see the bottom. It was all machinery with like open steel ladders zig-zagging all the way down to the bottom of the ship and the heat, oh, the heat was tremendous! The engineers used to have to strip to the waist just for the wet, it was like a scarf round their neck. Actually it was to stop the wet from running down their body because the sweat running down used to like, irritate them.
We used to put new pipes in the bilges. Now the bilges of a ship is the very belly of a ship, right down to the very bottom. We used to open the floor of the engine room, that’s right at the bottom, we used to open the floor and like trap doors, we used to go down and inside you could hear the sloshing of the oil and the water. You didn’t have any electric lights down there in them days, you had no electric leads. You used to take candles down with you and light a candle and we used to hold this candle.
We used to go down this hold and crawl underneath the flooring of the ship, right away along, and they were all into compartments, you used to crawl into another hole into the next compartment until you found the pipe that had got a hole in that had to be replaced.. Well you were working by candle light and all the oil was sloshing round and away in the distance you used to see just a little light and that was coming from the little hatch that you had left open. Well some of the lads used to play tricks on each other, you know, they used to close the door, eeh, well you were terrified well it was terrifying, you didn’t know where to go. Sometimes if you tried to turn round in a hurry but you couldn’t turn round in these little compartments you had to go backwards and your candle used to go out. Eeh, and you used to be frightened and you used to have a spanner or a hammer in your hand and they were knocking to tell you them you were there, eeh, it was frightening. in fact some of the boys wouldn’t go down into the bilges and then we got to an understanding that if I went down the bilges one of the lads would sit on the hole, like the little doorway and he would sit on there with his legs dangling down so I could see him and he promised that he would never move till I come back out again but some of the men wouldn’t go down and you used to get extra money for down the bilges because it was so dirty because when you come up you can imagine what you were like I mean the oil was running off you, you’d just think you had dived into a pool of oil, stinking oily water, now that’s the type of job that you used to hate. Now that was one of the dirty wet jobs. What we used to do we used to do another job.
Now this job was what we called floating the safety valves. Now on a ship you usually have three big boilers, now these boilers go from the bottom of the engine room to the top of the engine room the full side of a ship. Now these boilers, obviously, that’s the water that they boil for the steam, Now we used to go on top of these boilers that had a valve, the very top had a valve on, a safety valve. Now you used to have to trudge through the top of the boiler which was anything up to a foot deep in dust, because obviously, all the coal and everything when it got down onto the boiler it was pure dust, they could shovel it off, and our job was to get aside this big valve, the valve was about two foot or three foot high, a huge valve with a big spring on the top and a nut, and we used to have to stand there with a spanner and down below used to be a series of men in different parts shouting the orders out. Now when the engineer was down at the bottom of the ship in front of all his gauges he used to look at the gauge and lets suppose the gauge had to be up to the red mark, now when the steam got to that red mark it had to blow off, else it would burst the boiler. Now our job, they used to shout up “ready, now”, and when they said “now” we had to open this little nut so that the steam would blow off and that was like adjusted, so they knew by the gauge when that come to the red mark on the gauge that the valve would blow off and that was our job. But can you visualise a foot thick dust all over the tops of these boilers and when you let the steam off the pressure was at bursting point in the boiler, so you can imagine it blew the dust, well you used to come out of there and the heat was tremendous because you were standing on top of these boilers. Now when you come out and you looked at yourself you just had little white lips or red lips and white eyes. You were black.
Now you got 2s 6d for floating the safety valves and there was only about three of us that used to do it. The other ones either wouldn’t do it couldn’t do it, so we always got the job of floating the valves and we used to get 2s 6d, now remember, I only got 7s 6d a week for me wages, seven and tuppence actually, there was 4d off for stamps, so 2s 6d, that was a third of your wages you used to get for floating the safety valves, so that would tell you how dangerous a job it was, but there it was, it had its compensations. Of course that was the hard bits of jobs but it wasn’t all doom and gloom.
We had some very good lighter moments when we used to get back to the factory. If we were having our lunch out, you know and sitting outside we had a big crane, it was a hand winch crane. It had a big basket on the end. The basket was about three or four feet in diameter and they used to swing the jib of the crane out over the Gut, part of the river and the launch used to there and they used to fit it with bits and pieces and then wind it up and swing it back in again and that’s how they used to unload the launch.
In our dinner hour when we used to be carrying on you know, ‘cos we were old then, sixteen and seventeen, we used to put the young apprentices in the basket for a ride and say, “Go on, get in we’ll give you a ride”. We used to wind them up and swing the jib right out and put the brake on and leave it out. Course when the buzzer blew at one o’clock we used to go in the factory and working away and the foreman, they called him Alf, he used to say, “Whereabouts is so and so?” “I don’t know”, we used to say. “He’ll be hanging about somewhere”. When Alf used to go and see them sitting the basket because he couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t get back in. He used to be hopping mad at them. The apprentices daresn’t say anything you know.
Other times, you know, at lunch times they had a big lifeboat. It didn’t have an engine in it. This lifeboat was the funniest looking boat you could imagine because this boat was cover in thick, red paint. When I say thick, red paint it was thick, red paint. It was about a foot thick in places. You could lift it off in a shovelfull and throw it overboard and make big splashes. The launch used to tow it out and tie it alongside a ship and the men, the painters used to have these big five gallon drums of lead oxide paint and brushes on the end of a big long rod and used to dip it in and paint just above the waterline up to the Lloyds register mark and paint it red. They used to right round the ship like that and paint the ship. Obviously they couldn’t paint below the waterline. That’s how they used to paint it. Well of course, there was more paint on the lifeboat than there was on the ship. Sometimes if you sat down and the paint wasn’t dry and when you got up your overalls used to be red paint, but never mind getting back to this lifeboat.
On a dinner time we used to eat our sandwiches in about five minutes flat, then we’d say “Come on”, and get the oars out and go and row the lifeboat into the Tyne, ‘cos the little Gut part was adjoining the Tyne. So we used to all get in the boat, get the oars out and row out into the Tyne. Young lads never thought about it at that particular time, but we used to row with the tide and it used to go great you know, up by the flour mills which was alongside and then someone would say, “Hey we’d better turn round”. And when we came to turn round that was another story. You couldn’t row against the tide it was that heavy. Eeh, sometimes it used to take us an hour to get back. Sometimes it was half past one or two o’clock. Well the foreman was standing on the quayside waiting for us to come back. He used to be raging and he used to send us all home. Well of course when he used to send us all home he used to be kicking himself because he couldn’t get his work done.
This was the type of thing that the lads used to get up to. But, you know, all apprentices used to get up to various things, for instance in the shop with the foreman. You see we had another factory on the other side of this Gut. You know what a Gut is, it’s a little stream. Now then, Alf, he used to be the foreman of both shops, he used to go over this little footbridge. We would say to one of the apprentices, “Look out through all the holes in the wall”, that was where the sleepers was, “and look out over the bridge and you let us know when Alf comes back”. Well of course the men used to have domino handicaps and play cards and everything and nobody worked when the foreman was out. The little apprentice would say, “Alf’s coming back”. By the time Alf came through the door, we were all working like mad. Alf used to come in and look round and see the little lad and get hold of him give him real good belting on the bottom. He would say, “What’s that for?” “You’ve been watching me over there”. “I haven’t,” he says. “You have”. There was a white ring on his face, on his eye where he’d had his eye to the white wall. Remember I told you about the walls being whitewashed? Well he used to have a ring round and Alf used to know who’d done it and he daresn’t tell who had told him to keep an eye open. And these are the type of pranks us lads used to get up to."
No longer an apprentice as told by Noel Garvin
Noel Garvin, right, and friend
"Now jobs was getting better, work was getting better all over because this is now -I’d been at work about two or three years- so this would be about 1938. Now war was impending, every place was starting to get busy and they were preparing for war. Late 1939, war started.
In 1940,I applied to join the Navy as an engine room artificer, well an artificer is an engineer, and when I went in the navy to join the man says “How old are you? I said I was eighteen and the man said “Well go back and come back when you are twenty-one, when you are a man.” So I thought well, no. So I went across the road in Northumberland Street and I went and joined the Air Force. Now I got my calling up papers to go away in the Air Force about a month later, but you had to get your employer to sign the papers to let you go because we were in a reserved occupation, that meant to say we were doing war work!
So I had to take my papers in to Alf to get them signed. He said “I’m not signing them” so I couldn’t’ get them signed so I had to send them back. Six months later I got some more papers and I asked Alf to sign them, but no, he wouldn’t sign them. So later in 1940 I got another set of papers and this time I didn’t tell him and I waited till the very end – the last day and then they called me up.
Now I came out of the forces in 1946, August of ’46, and I went back to work at Taylor Pallister’s.
Now as I’ve said previously I was pretty good at my job and the foreman had said to me “Noel, I’m going to put you on maintenance“, so I was doing all the jobs in the factory preparing machines and whatever wanted doing I used to do it. The factory was very old and to keep the factory going I had a very dangerous job. At times I had to go up onto the shafting up a height and I had to pour on, this like black treacle to make the belt stick to the pulleys to drive all the machines because they were trying to push more out of the machines than the motor could give. If they pushed too hard it used to blow the main fuses of the shop. Then I had to go and put new fuses in the shop almost every day to keep the factory going.
So just after the 1950s, actually it was about 1955, they built the new factory in the old Dunston colliery works. They had pulled the colliery down, they’d left the colliery offices up but they pulled the colliery down and we had our new factory built there, which was a beauty.
Just a little thing I remember. I told you I got a bike when I was a boy about eleven and I used to ride round to the colliery, Dunston colliery, with a cigarette and a match in my pocket. Not for me, I used to wait for my Dad coming up the shaft and I used to sit there and give him his cigarette and his match and now we are here on the very spot where he was working. Of course my father died in 1941 just after I had joined the Air Force but we’ll come back to that later on.
This new factory that they had built was beautiful airy and light with windows all over and we had the job of moving the old factory, all the machines into the new factory. Now there were three of us at the time, two fitters, Bob Foster and I and an electrician. So what Mr Taylor done was to stagger the men’s holidays so the men were off instead of a fortnight it was spread over three weeks and in three weeks we took the roof of the old building off underneath the staiths and we got the cranes in we lifted all the machinery out of the roof and onto the flat trucks, on the railway trucks and of course the railway lines ran right past the factory so we lifted them out of the old factory, through the roof onto the trucks and had the engine take them along to the new factory. We took part of the new factory roof off, lifted all the machines through and lowered them into the new factory, put them on skates and put them all in long lines. Now there was no shafting but they had little motors on brackets with little belts on that we attached to every machine so every machine had its own little motor. It was just a little unit. So the whole factory was fitted out and we bolted all the machines down and we got the electrician to connect all the motors up. We worked day and night, weekends and I was hardly home for three weeks putting all these machines in and at last, on the Sunday before the men started work on the Monday we bolted the last machine down. Now Mr Taylor was so pleased with us that he said,“I think you lads should have three days holiday with pay and have a rest”
Shortly after the factory got going I was made up to foreman. Alf had retired. Now this was the busy years. All over people were working long hours, for instance I worked, or the factory worked, from seven o’clock in the morning until nine o’ clock at night on a Tuesday and a Thursday and we used to work Saturday mornings and sometimes on Sundays. But this was happening all over. The place was busy, very busy! In fact, it was so busy that after about twelve months I was made up to Works’ Manager and I had to handle then, all the unions.
But a little few light instances what happened, that the apprentices were larking on. We had Fentimans, the pop people, who came in and said, “We’ve got a pop machine or a lemonade machine we’d like to put it in. I said,“providing there is no liability to the company, you can have a go”. About a week later the man came to refill the machine. He got the shock of his life because all he got out of it was one coin a sixpence. It had a hole drilled in it with a long wire on and every time someone wanted a bottle of pop, they put the con in, pushed it in on the end of the wire, pushed it down, got the bottle out then pulled the wire back out with the coin on. So that’s how they cracked that. So when he took his machine away he brought another one.
“This one”, he said “was the state of the art, the very best, the latest technology, vandal proof!” You name it, it was or so he thought! This was an orange machine, you’ll have seen the type a square plastic bowl with an orange that revolves going around and the oranges getting mixed up. It took a day or two before our apprentices cracked this system. But crack it they did and how they managed that was, they put the plastic carton in the machine, put in the money and the machine filled up your cup, but before the cup got filled up to the top when it was only three quarters full, the machine, which was plugged into a socket at the bottom, just before ¾ full someone switched off the machine. Then they took the cup away and put an empty cup in its place, put down the switch and the machine started off again from the beginning, pouring out, again but before it got to the top, switch it off again and so on, providing nobody was getting too greedy. If somebody got too greedy and let it click over they had to put in another sixpence in but they could empty the machine with one coin, So, when the chap came back to empty it, he got sixpence out. That was the end of him!
Well later on, because these machines were all over, they were putting them in every factory all over the place and they were saying “If they’ll work all over, they’ll work here”.
Later on another machine vendor came in, this time with a cigarette machine. He asked if he could put it. It was foolproof in the other places that had it. I told him you’re wasting your time but he insisted, but they managed to crack that. So, as I said before, our apprentices were well and truly trained. They were really geniuses at beating the system."
Promotion to the board as told by Noel Garvin .
"About 1969-70 Mr Taylor senior retired and I was asked to join the board as a works director. Now this was a wonderful moment for me. I only wish my father had been alive. Here I was, a director of a company on the very spot I used to wait for my father to come up from the mine with a cigarette and a match when I was a little boy!
Well, this wonderful day was greeted by all the directors greeting me in the board room and then they showed me my new office and told me to go and pick up my new car. It was a beauty, a gold coloured Vauxhall Ventura, it was 3 ½ litres. That was the biggest car on the road at that particular time.
About six months previous, Mam (or Nan) and I were going through the town when we seen this lovely green Jag and we bought it, second hand of course. It was very expensive to run but we loved it. Heads would turn when we were out in it. Inside was real green leather. It had that beautiful hid smell about it. Oh, how I wish we had kept it! Anyway, I would love to have put that away in a garage until now, It would be worth a fortune. I was sorry to part with it but that’s life! Anyway we had a new Ventura to try out and to take its place.
Well as I’ve said before things were getting very busy and you don’t get made up to be a director for nothing and one of my main jobs was to deal with the unions.
Late l960s and early 70s were the days of the very strong unions. There was full employment, industry was booming and shipyards were working all the hours that God sent. You could work seven days a week and many men did. A man could leave one firm say on a Friday, and start another firm on the Monday. For the first time the working man had money in his pocket. They worked very hard in those days but they played hard. Many had holidays abroad, some even twice a year. Others bought their first homes, a thing unheard of before the war. Some bought their first car. This of course was very good for the building trade, the car people who couldn’t build houses fast enough. Housing estates sprang up all over the place. Yes, it was good, but not for the managers of the factories. We had to walk a tight-rope to keep production going and strike free. Now the worst offenders were the dockers and the car workers. Their demands grew every week, week after week. They wanted more for the job. The dockers, well, they could paralyse the whole country in twenty four hours. That is if they called a dock strike. The car workers’ demands were even higher, they wanted higher wages and better conditions which unsettled other workers of smaller factories. There was even a song by Alan Price out at the time, “Oh you can’t touch me I’m part of the Union”. Sung by all the pop groups.
Then there were the electricians, the power workers. They drove the whole country into the ‘three day week’ when we only had electricity for three days. They worked a go-slow, it was terrible. You know you felt “What could you do?” You had to fall in line with these men some way. Now I felt, obviously in my own little factory, the only way to avoid trouble was to have that close contact with the shop floor. You know to nip anything in the bud before the trouble started. Get things sorted out. Get the grievances sorted out before they had time to fester. It wasn’t always easy. You might have one troublemaker and they could stop production in a minute, but I managed better than most and tried to be fair on both sides. After all you know, I had worked on the shop floor. I know every man in the factory personally, and the only strike we ever had was when I was on holiday in Scotland, and once Mr Harley Taylor, he asked me to come back and sort it all out. So they sent for me and I came back and sorted it all out and peace reigned once more.
By this time we had done away with our general repair work on ships. We concentrated on the making of big blocks and tackle because every ship had to have lifting gear. We supplied rudders and rudder carriers, many with a lot of patents. We supplied these all over the world, including a lot of the ice-cutting ships that went through the Russian waters, through the St Lawrence seaways to keep them free all year round to get the ships through.
One of my jobs was also to go, on request, from captains and people like that, to go to the likes of Rotterdam where ships were having refits to see what was needed. We had agents for selling, I didn’t do any selling, I just met these captains and their agents and sorted their problems for them and also get orders as well, and just then come back. We were on all kinds of ships, Russian, Chinese, wherever there was trouble I was there.
We also were still a family business but times were changing in the seventies up to the eighties. Now Mr Taylor decided in about 1978 to float the company and make it a public company because before that it was just owned by himself. Well, there was a lot of changes happening, there was these people from London, they were called in those days asset stripping. What they done they found a nice company that had money, and was running well and they would take all the money off the company and they would make the company go into overdraft and cut down on the men, sell all the assets that the company owned, make a real good profit out of them, fill all their banks with the money, then just let the company go to the wall and it would collapse.
Now, it was at this time, well, we managed to stay afloat obviously, but we were taken over by a London company called Bardsie. Mr Harley Taylor retired when the new manager of this company came up from London. They came up every week. They flew up every week for the meeting to see how we were getting on and they wanted, well, they were always on about wanting cutbacks and more money and everything. We had a board meeting every week and it was heated at times, especially when it was suggested that the work force had to be cut again, sometimes cut by as much as twenty five per cent. You know twenty five per cent of a small company, if you have a company of one hundred and sixty you know you are cutting back a lot of men. Their methods were considered cost effective by cutting the work force, but it didn’t work out like that. If you haven’t got enough men to make your equipment then you can’t get the money in, so it’s false economy to cut back too far, which these people wanted.
At this time I was now about sixty-one years old and the move I asked for – well I wanted to retire. So I said “Will you let me go?” They said no, or only if you attend to the unions and get an agreement for the hours. You know special agreements with them, they would consider it. Now that wasn’t good enough for me, so I got onto Mr Brighthouse of Bardsie and got an agreement with him. It took a lot of work to get this agreement that I would settle the union, settle them down, get agreements for the company that there would be no trouble and all this type of thing, cut back on the manpower which was very hard for me at that time because I had started nearly all of the men from young boys and I knew their families and everything. It was hard to pick out men and finish them. They were very sad days that last twelve months. It took me about twelve months to get all this sorted out.
At last the day had arrived! I was sixty-two. Fancy, after forty-eight years with the one firm, that was right from a boy to a man. Well, I was glad to be going but in a way sad to be leaving ‘cos I was leaving my many friends I’d made during my lifetime at work. But mind they gave me a grand send off. It was a big surprise party, it was all arranged. It was arranged in the boardroom with all of the men off the floor (well as many as they could get in), as well as the office staff and fellow directors. I get a bottle of whisky and six tumblers now they were from the shop stewards, they were feeling me going more than I was, a tobacco jar and a pipe from the men and from the office staff I got a wood turning lathe and portable garden hose. They were making sure that I was going to be kept occupied when I retired. Then the directors, they gave me a stereo radio and a set of matching leather suitcases ready for my many holidays abroad. You know there were many funny remarks, they were sorry to see me go but the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know.
I got a lovely retirement card from the office staff, mind the funny remarks on and all the office staff signed it and they all put their little comments and little verses on. Now I’ll treasure that for the rest of me days. This was now the 13th January 1984 I left Taylor Pallisters for the last time. That was the end of my working days.
It is now the 13th January 1997 and I am seventy-five years old now and I’ve had a wonderful thirteen years of retirement. Now we have seen some great countries on our travels on our many holidays including Russia and America. We’ve seen our grand children grow up and I’ve had a good time. God has been good to me and I have had a great life.
God bless you all!"
I
Wartime Memorabilia
WW1 Registration Book.
WW2 Ration Book.
WW2 Clothing Ration Book.
WW2 Defence Medal Application.
Identity Card - Inside.
Identity Card - Outside.
Services Beyond the Call of Duty
William Richardson was born in Sunniside on the 25th of August 1905. He married Ethel Miller in Christ Church, Dunston in 1927; they were married for fifty-four years, having one daughter Thelma. William died in 1982 at the age of seventy-seven.
He was a motor vehicle engineer for Northern General Transport Company in Bensham, Gateshead. William and a group of his friends and acquaintances from Northern General Transport Company joined the T.A prior to the outbreak of the Second World War so when the call for recruitment came, they were amongst the first to sign up for the services. He would serve with the 8th army, working in REME, rising to the position of Sergeant Major.
He was one of the last people to leave Dunkirk. Back in Dover they received a wonderful welcome home. According to Mr Richardson, they would have thought they had actually won the war instead of losing it.
William served in the British Expeditionary Force in France and later with the 1st and 8th Armies in North Africa and Italy.
He was a Warrant Officer (Class One) Armament Artificer in a large Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers Field Workshop, under the command of Brigadier W S Tope.
William rode on his motorbike scouting, this was ahead of the General Army, for places to set up workshops to enable REME to repair all the broken vehicles, tanks, lorries, etc. which could be repaired. A couple of times William went over enemy lines. This allowed him to advise the army of the dangers ahead. He warned them about pulling back a little because he didn't want them to lose the workshops.
The men of REME were the first in the camps, they were able to notify the army of fairly safe places to stay: and then when the Army was finished, REME had to blast everything, they destroyed equipment to prevent the Germans from using it; cleared up and got away on their motorbikes as fast as they could. These men were the first in and the last out; they really were on the front line of the war.
When they were departing Salerno Landing, William and his colleagues should have left on the second last boat, but because of orders requesting them to stay, they actually left on the very last boat. To their shock and horror, they discovered that the 2nd last boat had been sunk.
They passed a lot of casualities from the sunken boat on their way out, the men were struggling in very oily waters; William and his fellow soldiers helped with the rescue of those who were still alive.
Mr.William Richardson was not only mentioned twice in Despatches, the first 'mention' being gained for his work in North Africa and the second for the Salerno Landing; he was also awarded an MBE, (Member of the British Empire) for distinguished Conduct and services beyond the call of duty whilst serving with his regiment, the 8th Army.
The letter from the War Office telling Thelma's father that he had been awarded the M.B.E was written by Colonel J.C. Elwes Directorate of Mechanical Engineering Allied Force Headquarters CMF on the 23rd of June 1945, and was published in the London Gazette on the 28th of June 1945.
It stated: -
The Under-Secretary of State for War presents his compliments and by Command of the Army Council has the honour to transmit the enclosed Awards granted for services during the war of 1939-45 It is noted from records held by this office that you have been awarded the MBE, Africa Star, with 1st Army Clasp, 1939-45 Star. B.E.F. 12th September 1939 to 19th June 1940, Italy Star...C.M.F. 10th April 1944 to 8th May 1945.
William Oloman
Bill Oloman was in the Territorial Army from March 1939. Billy did his peacetime training in Low Fell once a week. Each year the TA went away for two weeks to various camps, including Halton in Lancashire.
He was called up on August 28th 1939, just a few weeks before war was declared and he joined the Royal Engineers where he rose to Company Sergeant Major. He was demobbed in May 1946.
In December 1942 he was posted to North Africa and sailed, December 22nd 1942 on the Strathalan, which had been a P&O Liner. The ship was torpedoed, he was picked up and taken to Oran then straight onto another troop ship where they were put straight onto another troop ship and taken to Algiers. They than followed the war through North Africa finishing in Tunis. When the campaign finished about September/October 1943. The aqueduct had been bombed, as engineers it was their job to get electricity and water back to various towns and villages.
In December 1943 Billy went to Italy, they landed in Taranto and went straight up country to Bari, where they were for only a few days before going to a place called Cervinaro which was not far from Monte Casino.
The troop was there for four to five months, again repairing aqueducts, reinstating water supplies, electricity and generally getting utilities back to normal Bill said "In our company we were like a contracting firm, all self contained sections. As a Sergeant, I was in charge of B section which was responsible for the oil and water pipeline (only because I was a Heating Engineer). When I became a company Sergeant Major I was in charge of them all! "
From there, Billy went to Naples, but they were only there a few months. In Naples they rebuilt the Royal Palace (which the Yanks had hit with bombs about six times) it was then used as the NAFFI. After Bill left Naples he went to Palestine.
The only time that Bill and his fellow soldiers came under dangerous fire was in Medjez-elbab in North Africa, when they were building a bridge. As they were engineers they relied on the infantry to give them cover. Usually Bill's unit only moved into an area after it had been made safe.
Bill and his men stayed in North Africa approximately 12 months, about the same time in Italy, then they moved on to Palestine where they built camps for housing recruits.
The men did quite a bit of maintenance on oil lines in Palestine, The men really had nothing much to do with the people of Palestine as there was trouble, even in 1944 between the Jews and the Arabs. Apparently the Jews left Palestine before the Germans came, leaving all their land and property. When they came back, the Arabs had taken over everything.
The Arabs, in fact planted orange trees and lemon trees. When the Jews returned, the Arabs refused to allow the Jews to reclaim their property; stating that they had worked hard to make the orchards, so fighting started.
Billy did get a months leave from Palestine in December 1945, but went back to Palestine for another few months until he was de-mobbed in May 1946.
I asked Bill had he met anyone from Whickham on his travels. "I met one chap from Whickham who lived at Watergate, who was a bricklayer, he came to our unit for pre-vocational training."
Across Europe with "Monty".
Whilst Margaret Rayner was chopping down trees in the Timber Corp her brother, Bill Hall, was guarding Field Marshal Montgomery's headquarters.
When he left school in 1937, Bill was unable to find work on Tyneside but he managed to gain employment in Welwyn Garden City. Consequently, when in 1939 he was called up, he found himself serving in the Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire Regiment. He was posted to "Monty's" headquarters where he carried out guard duties at the inner camp.
"Monty" preferred using caravans rather than a building. (The map caravan formerly belonged to Italian generals.) He liked to be surrounded by hedges and trees, which made task of guarding him more difficult! It was at times like a gypsy camp with Monty's two dogs (a wire haired terrier called Hitler and a cocker spaniel called Rommel) and a menagerie of other animals. When camped near Hamburg zoo these were peacocks, black swans and ducks from the local zoo they varied according to where they were.
Bill's personal view of "Monty" was that he was an infantryman who was a cavalryman at heart; a good soldier, too thoughtful to be an officer! He considered that "Monty" was very upset at the failure of the initiative at Arnhem. A nonconformist to some extent, Montgomery was an infantry officer but always wore a tank regiment Beret.
Bill himself was not keen on army regulations and considered himself an armed civilian. He reached the dizzy heights of lance corporal for one week! A printer in by trade, he had attended night classes in engineering for two years. One day in the mess an officer asked if any one was an engineer. A friend volunteered the information that Bill knew something about engineering! He was asked to draw a plan and he did so by pacing out the area in question. The officer was impressed. After that, he was responsible for making the plans for the advanced H.Q. until a draughtsman was brought in to carry out this duty.
On June 6th at 1pm., after leaving of the Isle of Wight, they sailed to the Normandy beaches and then journeyed through France, Holland, Belgium and into Germany. There, on May 4th 1945 at Deutsch Evern (near Luneburg), Field Marshal Montgomery accepted the surrender of all armed forces opposing 21 Army Group. Three days later Germany surrendered to the Allied Expeditionary Force and to the Soviet High Command, under which all forces would cease active operations at midnight 8/9 May 1945.
There were many interesting events along the way; at one camp "Monty" had his portrait painted. During a lull in the fighting King George V1 invested him as Sir Bernard Montgomery. Bill was in the guard of honour. The event was filmed a newsreel.
In Holland people were starving. Bill helped one family with 13 children; he gave them the left over bread from the mess. This family kept in touch for years with Bill by sending Christmas cards.
One night on guard duty (3 hours on - 3 hours off), he challenged two men who ran away. Later they turned out to be American airman who had escaped from a prisoner of war camp. They were taken to holding camp behind the lines then back to their camp in England.
The only time he came actually came under fire was during training with live ammunition! Bill has many, many more stories.
After the war, H.Q. became a regular army camp with white painted sentry boxes. Monty's reaction was "If these are for me take them away!" He did not care for army bull.
THE JOURNEY OF FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY'S HEADQUARTERS IN N.W. EUROPE
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June 6th 1944 1 pm Standing off Beaches.
" 7th " FRANCE Moved to St Croix-sur-Mer.
" 8th " " " Croullet.
" 23rd " " " Blay.
Aug 3rd " " " Foret-de-Cerisy.
" 14th " " " Campeaux (near Beny Bocage)
" 19th " " " Proussy (near Conde-sur-Noireau)
" 25th " " " Avernes-sous Exmes
" 30th " " " Fontaine (near Evreux)
Sep 1st " " " Dangu (across Seine)
" 3rd " " " Conty
" 4th " " " Saulty (Pas de Calais)
" 6th " BELGUIM " Chateau Houtaing
" 8th " " " Everberg (BRUSSELS)
" 21st " " " Hechtel
" 27th " HOLLAND " Eindhoven
Nov 9th " BELGIUM " Zonhoven
Feb 7th 1945 HOLLAND " Geldrop
Mar 10th " " " Venlo (2 miles N.W.)
" 17th " GERMANY " Straelen
" 29th " " " Bonninghardt
" 31st " " " Brunen
Apr 3rd " " " Nottuln (West of Munster)
" 6th " " " Rheine (Bombed Barracks)
" 10th " " " Ostenwalde (West of Osnabrucke)
" 14th " " " Nienberg (River Wesel)
" 21st " " " Soltau
May 1st " " " Deutch Evern (near LUNEBURG)
" 4th " " Field Marshal Montgomery accepted
Surrender of all armed forces opposing 21
Army Group.
" 7th " " Germany surrendered to the Allied Ex-
peditionary Force and to the Soviet High
Command at 070241, under which all forces
will cease active operations at midnight
8/9 May 1945.
Anne Sloan - Working in an Aircraft Factory.
My name was Anne Joynson and I came up North when I was very young. We lived in Bensham. I had four brothers and three sisters. I went to Lady Vernon School at St. Cuthbert's. I left school when I was 14 and started straight away in Fashion.
First of all I worked at Henry Dodgson's and then I went over to Fenwicks. I liked Fenwicks. I loved Fenwicks in fact and I was very unhappy when I was called up. I thought the end of the world had come. I could see myself getting pushed into this factory and I had heard such stories about factory life.
However I was first sent to a training centre on the Team Valley Trading Estate for six months. There I met a friend who was a lot younger than me. We are still good friends today.
She was very good at the practical work and I was very poor at the practical work but I was good at the theory. The foreman just didn't like me and I didn't like him. Every time I took a piece of work up he wouldn't pass it.
I said, 'I am leaving, I'll get put in gaol, but I'm not coming back'.
So my friend said, 'Take this up.'
I said, 'I can't do that!'
But she said 'Go on'. I did and he passed it.
Jimmy White's was the No.1 factory on the Trading Estate. In fact it was an Aircraft Factory - aircraft components and we used to do the Halifax Bombers and the Spitfires. He picked six girls out to go and work for him. I was one of them and so was Jean, my friend. Well, she was great at it, she was very good.
They said to me 'I think you should go on inspection'. I landed in inspection and left poor Jean on the floor and we worked there until 1944 when I got married.
There were few people who knew how important the Trading Estate was. We were No I and there was a No 2 factory, which belonged to the White brothers. They were also making the same components as we were. It was so important really; when you left the factory it was a blank because you hadn't to talk about it, very secret. When we first went in it was a factory full of men but by the time we had been there a little over a year it was a factory of women all doing men's jobs so the men could go and do the fighting. It was marvellous to think that women who had only been at home could come and be trained to do such jobs. We did shift work - day shift and night shift - week and week about.
Even the Fashion world had to change over and there were many Fashion factories in the Team Valley. They had to turn straight over to army uniforms. Also there were a lot of other firms who had to turn over and do different war efforts.
There was a very good, big, gun factory. The Bren Gun Factory. The man himself was a Czech who had escaped during the war but all his family didn't. However he managed to bring out the formula that belonged to him and that's how it was called the Bren Gun factory because they called him Bren.
I really enjoyed working in the factory as I enjoyed the comradeship. You know when I worked in Fenwicks you couldn't speak - I mean you entered that door and that was it till you came out at night. I used to 'fire watch' in Fenwicks. Every Sunday we had to take our turns and go up watching the building. Everyone else did in the shops in Newcastle, not just Fenwicks. Everyone had to take part and mind there was no transport. You walked there and you walked back home. It was marvellous how everyone helped one another then you know.
When I worked in the Aircraft Factory we had to walk to the other side of the Team Valley to the Canteen. It was a very big canteen, everybody used it. I think the Government provided the food and paid the staff. In the factory it was 'Music while you work' in the morning and afternoon. It was lovely, such a big change from what I had been used to because all my life I had worked under restriction.
What a difference the War made to my life
The Timber Corps of the Women's Land Army - Margaret Rayner
Timber was one of the most vital munitions of war, but the extra men required for the woods were required even more urgently elseIt was essential that women should replace men over as wide a field as possible and so, from a nucleus of about 1000 Land Army members already working in the Department, the Women's Timber Corps was established in April 1942. Members wore the same uniform as the Land Army except for a green beret and a Timber Corps badge.
Home Timber Production Dept.
Margaret Rayner
The Timber Corps sounded good to me. Two of my friends had joined and so I volunteered and was accepted for Training at Wetherby in Yorkshire. Here we were introduced to the main sections of the work, felling, cross-cutting, clearing in the woods, sawing and measuring. Each morning we were taken in open lorries along the A1 to work in Bramham Woods where the timber, which was cut here was mainly for pit props. We used 5lb axes, but the lumberjacks who we sometimes helped with trimming used the heavier 7lb axes.
At the end of our 4 weeks training, we were sent to work, some for the Ministry and others to timber merchants though we were all still employees of the Department. The administration and welfare of members was delegated to the Home Timber Production Department of the Ministry of Supply.
I was sent to work in a sawmill in Worcester where I learnt to operate a pendulum cross-cut saw. This was a circular saw of about 30 inches in diameter, electrically driven, fixed to a pendulum with a weight on one end. The saw was pulled across the saw bench and the weight took it back.
The work was out of doors. There was an awning of sorts - to keep the equipment dry - but the operator stood out in all weathers! Cold in winter to begin the days work but not for long.
Lengths of timber were cut for use in various ways, from tool and brush handles to tent pegs for the military and crosses for soldiers' graves.
There were 3 other Timber Corps members working in the sawmill, we were "the girls" although there were over 100 women employed there.
The work was hard but it was a good firm to work for and I enjoyed my time there.
Jean Mundy, Land Girl.
I set forth on my first trip away from home on the fourth of October 1944 from Leeds city station. My father saw me off and my destination was Exeter, changing at Bristol. I was very apprehensive about the whole journey, never having travelled alone before. Finally I arrived and a Land Army person was there to shepherd us into some transport to take us to Whiteways Cider Farm, which was our home for one month's training. It was at a place called Whimple in Devon and we lived in a hostel. We received a uniform, shirts, overalls, breeches, greatcoat, hat, shoes and Wellington boots.
We were then shown all the different parts of farming. It was a mixed farm, cows, pigs (300), and of course we had a big dairy. We worked in groups on a different section each week. When you were on pigs, which had to be cleaned out and fed before breakfast, no one would sit near you because of the smell. Before they let us loose on the dairy cows we had to train on a rubber udder, which was a laugh. We were taught how to record all the milk a cow gave and, of course, it went through several filters before it went into churns and off to the large dairy.
We didn't get a lot of free time. The girls were from all over the place. One girl I made friends with called Maira, she was Welsh. We were taken one night to a dance at a camp. They were Canadians and a lot of them were wounded. One week we were asked if we would go apple picking. We all thought this would be a good job. Not so - it was very hard work picking them up off the frozen ground. They sent us out with what seemed like old blokes to us. At lunchtime they all had big jars of scrumpy cider, the rough stuff and very strong.
Then it was time to go out to different farms. I was sent to a place called Ladrum Bay, very lonely it was, right on the coast. I didn't last long. They hardly spoke to me and the cooking was pretty awful. The farmer's wife was a Londoner. The rice pudding I remember very well -it took three days to cook. So when I got a day off I left and went back to Exeter. I expected to get really told off, but it wasn't so bad. It was getting near Christmas and one of the farmers at Ottery St Mary's needed a land girl while their girl went on leave. They were called Potter and they were really lovely people. I slept in a feather bed before duvets (very comfortable). The food was great. We did so much work before breakfast; we milked and then I used to deliver milk with one of those bikes with a big basket on the front. I had one disaster, spilling the milk before I got the hang of it.
I spent that Christmas with them and I hung up my stocking and got all sorts of bits and pieces plus a ten-shilling note. Mr and Mrs Potter were lovely people and when I got moved to a permanent farm, I still used to cycle over to see them. I used to write to them for years after I left the Land Army. Mr Potter died first, but I wrote to Mrs Potter until she was over ninety years old.
Before I was taken to my next farm I had to go to Headquarters in Exeter. They told me I was going to the Barry's at Ten Acres on West Hill, Ottery St Marys. I was told I was only to do farm work, no housework. They felt they were just a small place and as their daughter had to go to the Admiralty at Bath, they thought Mrs Barry might be after a cheap servant. This was not the case but they used to call to make sure. Mrs Barry never asked me to do any housework, but I did use to help as they were so kind to me. I learnt so many things, skinning rabbits, killing ducks and chickens and preparing them for the table. We didn't get much meat ration so I used to get sent to the gamekeeper for pigeons etc.
Theirs was a lovely house. Mr Barry had had it built with about 16 acres of land They had beautiful Jersey cows, a pet lamb, a horse, chickens, ducks and cats that slept outside, and a lovely English Setter called Dina. She was also kept outside. Mr and Mrs Barry had decided to retire fairly young and then decided they would like to farm. They worked very hard. They had built most of the outside buildings themselves.
This was where I really got to know about farming.
The Barry's always used to show me how to do things like lifting sacks of feed without damaging myself. I used to milk but some of the cows were quite temperamental. They used to hold the milk if you didn't do it right, so it was a while before I could milk all of them. They didn't have a bull, but used artificial insemination, which was very modern in those days. The herd was a pedigree one, so we used to get all the semen from another pedigree herd. This used to come in big thermos flasks by train so it was all a matter of timing and, of course, the vet with me as his assistant holding the cow's tail. Then a wait, to make sure it was all OK. The first calf I saw born, I sat up all night. I was very thrilled it was so beautiful.
A good job was sawing logs. Two used to work the bow saw; it kept you nice and warm on winter days we used the wood for the fire.
I was one of the lucky ones in the war. The air raids were never near where I was and we never went short of food. Plus nobody I knew was killed in the war. I was always glad I went away from home. It showed me how the other half lived.
Minnie Rutherford.
Minnie Rutherford was registered for war work when she was 19 and called up when she was 20 years old. She was put into the Land Army in Wolsingham near Bishop Auckland. There was one other girl there and they had to milk cows, make butter and even go shopping. It was the first time she had had a room to herself so she quite enjoyed it!
Mary Burdon Gilhespie.
Mary, born in Whickham in 1923, belonged to an old Whickham Family. She left school when she was 15 years of age. Her first job was at the Hadrian Stores. When she was sixteen she went for one of those really old fashioned interviews. She had to sit at a large table opposite a group of men who interviewed her to see if she was acceptable for a job in Whickham Co-operative Stores.
Mary got the job and started work in the Grocery Department on Fellside Road. In those days, you were quite privileged to get a position with the Co-operative Stores. As Mary said "To get a job with the Co-op in those days meant you are set for life"
Mary worked at the Co-op for four years before being called up in 1943. She had to go to Scotland to do her training, which she said was an event in itself. She had only once been to Scotland before, and that was when she went on a school trip to Edinburgh. Mary's journey involved her getting a train to Glasgow, changing trains there for the onward journey to Bewick, which was on the banks of Lock Lomond.
Mary's stay in Scotland was in December and January. She recalled what a beautiful place it was. Unfortunately for her and her fellow Wrens, it being winter, they had to go round in oilskins, clogs and sou'westers. Apparently the site had once been an American Naval Base with just Nissan Huts and oil stoves to keep them warm. Mary said it was dreadful and she would never forget the experience as long as she lived.
After her training in Scotland Mary was sent Rochester, which was not far from the Chatham Dockyards. She had all her injections and what not done there. As a young Wren, Mary remembers, the Royal Navy being very protective towards the young girls who were stationed there. If they went into Chatham and were caught by the MP's loitering, talking to anyone, more so Naval Personnel, they were in front of the Commodore the next day.
Mary was not in Chatham very long before moving to Staines in Middlesex. Here she worked in a former Lino Factory, which the Royal Navy had taken over. There were Men Ratings as well as the Wrens, working in the various departments, shipping, packing and office jobs; this was where Mary worked. From this factory the Navy were repairing and supplying spare parts and machinery for the ships including anchors and propellers which were then transported to Naval Bases abroad.
When in Rochester, Mary's accommodation was quite good. She and her fellow Wrens lived in one of the houses taken over by the Admiralty. There were four streets of Victorian houses, which were on two floors with attics and large cellars. They also had small gardens to front and back of the house. The Windows were blacked out on the inside and sandbagged half way up the windows on the outside. Mary and her fellow mates saw at first hand the raids in London, all the bombing and the doodlebugs. It was a terrible experienced she said.
In the house at Rochester, the Wrens, lived, slept, and washed. There was no furniture, only makeshift cupboards for clothes with curtains around them. No food was taken there as meals were served in the canteen at the Wrens quarters in Rochester. One or two Wrens were billeted there, but it was just a staging post before being transferred.
Mary was at Chatham about eighteen months before she went to Windsor. She and a number of her fellow Wrens actually lived in Clewer Park, a large house which stood in its own grounds, with the house backing onto the River Thames and Windsor Racecourse. Whilst in Windsor Mary was a messenger for the Navy and she used to go to The Admiralty in Trafalgar Square to deliver messages.
She used to get a pass to take her on the train from Staines to Windsor, where there was a civil defence place. This was all to do with the Admiralty. It was like the military supplies department. When signals came up from the Admiralty, into the teleprinter room she would deliver them to the different departments. She was one of the first in the section, apart from the Admiralty, to know that the Second World War had ended.
Mary came out of the Wrens in January 1946 after being with the Wrens just over two years. She never thought she would have been called up for the war. Her position as Wren Caygill was, in her opinion, just an ordinary jenny Wren who was a messenger.
Women at War - Caroline Chilvers
I was called up in 1940 because my husband was in the army and I had no children.
I had to go to the Dole Office on the Windmill Hills for a medical examination first. I had always worked in hotels but now I had no choice, I was told to go to the Royal Ordnance Factory in Birtley. I was there for four and a half years. I lived in Back Athol Street, Dunston, and had to walk to Victoria Road for the special bus that was provided for us. There were a lot of women from Dunston working there and we all wore clogs so made quite a clatter walking along. There were three shifts, 6 am until 2 pm, 2 pm until 10pm, and 10pm until 6 am. I didn't know what daylight was like on some shifts. I was paid £3 a week and that was a lot of money in those days. I felt like a millionaire! There were only women in the shop and we had a couple of air raids while we were at work. We had a canteen for our breaks. It was hard graft! I was on a machine making shells that weighed 40lbs and we had to lift them. I am only 5 feet tall. I am 88 now so it didn't do me any harm. We were told to tell anyone who asked that we were making tins for food.
Women at War - Florence Clark
Florence Clark also served in the W.A.A.F. during World War 2. She met and married George Wilson, a soldier, during the war.
Women at War - Elsie Harm
Elsie Harm served in the W.A.A.F. during World War 2. Elsie married Gordon Hartley on 5th March 1947.
Sheila Carver
My first memories of the war were of men coming to the farm all dressed in different uniforms. going off to war. Most of them had played with my two cousins George and Tom at the farm. One young man, Jackie Rutter, was his name, walked up Millers Lane with me hanging from his neck.
He was in the RAF and was killed in Holland. When you enter St. Marys Church, Whickham, in the porch is a small stained glass window that the Scouts put in his memory.
My grandparents had purchased a Ford V8 car in about 1936-37, but sadly had to sell it to Whickham Council to be used for Civil Emergency in the war years.
I remember the balloons on the cricket field. I used to be very frightened, I remember that one got away and my cousin told me that men were in them and they would come and take me away.
German prisoners came to work on the farms during the war. The camp was on Lord Gort's estate at Hamsterly Mill. The prisoners, Italian and German worked on local farms travelling daily by bus. My sister and I went with grandma and Mrs Clark to look around the prison camp. The coach driver took us there and we went to so many farms picking up, that the bus got full. My sister and I ended up sitting on two German's knees.
Two of my cousins went off to war and as they had made a fuss of me I missed them terribly, but suddenly the Germans came to work; one whose name was Helmut, came to East Farm. I found him like my cousins. We used to tease him, shouting:-
There will always be an England
And England shall be free
Because of our brave army
Air force and Navy".
He used to pretend to be mad and throw turnips at us.
His home was in Leipzig. When the war ended I have often wondered what happened to him as that was in the Russian Zone. He was not bothered about going back to Germany because all his family were killed during the war. When the war ended, he would come to the pictures at Blaydon, grandma always insisting that he sat beside us in case of any trouble.
House bombed in Sunniside
May 12 1941 a German bomber dropped a stick of five bombs. One landed in the front garden of nos. 16-17 Fernville Ave. One of the occupants, George Shanks, was killed and Tom and Jeannie Ann Shanks were injured.
The roofs and windows of nearby houses were damaged and even as far as Elm Street some of the back doors were ripped open by the effects of the bomb blast.
The illustrations are of a Letter from District Valuer and a List of Clothing Destroyed.
The Ack Ack Camp 1939-1945
In the early part of the war Whickham had a Ack Ack camp, (an AntiAircraft Guns and Research camp). There were a number of big guns there and also vital equipment. The camp operated by W.A.A.C. (Womens Auxillary Army Corps) was located on Fellside Road, where the bungalows are now on the Rectory Estate, going towards the Glebe. This camp was not large and the accommodation consisted of wooden huts.
There were various nationalities in the camp including soldiers who had been evacuated from Dunkirk, and some Americans. Eva Tingler relates a story about the young men in the camp. Apparently one day a group of young Americans knocked on her and a few of her neighbours' doors, asking if they could please have a bath.
Eva lived in one of the Colliery houses quite near to the camp. As Eva's husband was a miner, with a concessionary coal supply, they had ample coal to heat the hot water needed for the baths so she quite willingly obliged. In way of thanks, Eva was given some army blankets. Eva said she not only kept the blankets but also used those blankets right through the years until just recently when she bought herself a quilt.
A number of the men from the Ack Ack Camp used to go to the dances at the Miners Welfare Hall, (now Whickham Sales Rooms) on a Saturday evening and quite a few acquaintances were developed with the local girls. The hall was originally built after the First World War for Axwell Pit as an Institute, but as it was not used it was offered to Watergate Pit.
Betty Oloman can remember when doing her milk round on her cart, she would sometimes carry extra milk and the men from the camp would buy it from her. She also remembers being teased by the wolf whistles she received.
When the army vacated the camp many of the local families moved into the camp as squatters and used the wooden huts as homes. In those days it was very difficult to get houses. Many people had no option but to squat. They stayed in the huts until they were either rehoused, often in prefabs, by the council or they could afford to buy a property for themselves.
Thomas Dickinson's Memories
The first memory I have of world war two was when the proprietor of the local shop, Mr L. Jarron, came down the street shouting that war had been declared. Everyone was standing at their doors.
As the war progressed air raids became more frequent so the school I attended, Whickham County Council, introduced a code of practice which was that if an air raid finished after midnight you did not have to attend until 1pm the next day.
Air raid shelters were built next to the school and our gas masks were often tested for different kinds of gas that may have been used by the Germans. Barricade blocks were built on certain roads. These were made of concrete and there was just enough space for one vehicle to pass through. There was one on Broom Lane near my home and others at Fellside road and Sunniside.
The government introduced a scheme so that you could get extra clothing coupons if your feet were over a certain length but I never qualified.
As the war progressed, when you reached the age of 13 you were allowed to "potato pick" in the autumn. I think that it was for either 25p per day or 25p per week. It was hard work!
There were a few air raids when bombs were dropped in our area, notably one in Tait's farm field at the top of the street where I lived. A number of houses had their windows shattered. The day after the raid we used to go into the bomb craters to collect shrapnel (pieces of the bomb). In an air raid on Sunniside a bomb killed a Mr George Shanks. The bomb was a direct hit on his home.
My father was a coal miner and one of the shifts he worked finished at 11.30pm; if an air raid was on and they were bombing South Shields, he would take me to the bottom of the street and show me the flares, fires and guns being fired at the German aircraft.
There was an army camp on Fellside Road, which had an anti-aircraft gun; there was also one at Lobley Hill and the noise was terrific. There were also barrage balloons situated around the area, one in Beech Grove (below Whickham Church) and one at Fellside. There were also static water tanks where gallons of water were stored in case of fire from the bombs. During the blackout people were shouted at by the wardens, for showing lights from windows.
Once my mother took me to Whickham pictures, now the gym in Church Chare, and when we came out it was pitch black. Instead of walking up Broom Lane to our house we ended up in Duckpool Lane.
I never saw a banana, until near the end of the war. A schoolboy brought one into the schoolyard it was black. His father, a soldier, brought it from abroad.
At the end of the war we were all introduced to a famous person. It was Maurice Chevalier, the French singer and film star. He was introduced by our Head Master, Mr Kennedy, who had been a prisoner with him during the First World War and who had taught him to speak English.
I keep remembering things since starting this story such as when an air raid was in progress we either went to a public shelter which was about 75 yards from our house or to a single bed under the staircase which was supposed to be the safest place if we were bombed.
Sweets and chocolates were rationed to 4ozs a week so when we went to the pictures we used to buy a half-penny carrot at H. Hutchinson the fruiterers, Front Street, Whickham, now a bank.
Another event in the war was just after Dunkirk, hundreds of soldiers were sent to Whickham and district. I remember them seeing some of them sitting and lying in the fields below where The Gibside is now. My father once brought a couple of soldiers home for lunch.
Margaret Campbell remembers the war years.
"At the beginning World War 2 most of my friends were evacuated to villages in Co. Durham. My parents decided that we would be evacuated together. My father stayed at home, I went with my mother and sisters to stay with relatives at Salters Gate between Castleside and Tow Law. It was a street of houses in the middle of the moors, almost two miles walk to the nearest bus stop. We have very happy memories of all the things we did there. In later years, we were surprised to find we had been there only two weeks. After a fortnight, my father had had enough of being on his own so we all went back to Dunston. On our return we found that air raid shelters were being built. We only used the shelter in the street once. After one air raid my parents and grandparents decided to strengthen the large cupboard under the stairs. We always referred to it as the gas cupboard because it had a gas meter in there."
"Stronger beams were added and a platform bed built under the sloping roof. The three of us could just fit in there. There was an armchair in there where my mother or grandmother could sit. My mother made us all siren suits; these were one-piece suits to wear over our pyjamas. If the air raid warning went during the night, under the stairs we went, wearing our siren suits, and there we stayed until the all clear sounded. We were supposed to go straight to sleep! I do not remember how well we slept. We liked being there. We had a tin box with treats in and if we were in any length of time we might get a piece of chocolate or a Horlicks tablet or something we wouldn't have got if we'd stayed in bed!"
"I remember playing in the street with my sisters and I think some friends. We were playing some sort of chasing game because of course there was no traffic so we could run quite safely across the cobbles. Suddenly we heard a plane and a machine gun firing. It was above our heads, bullets were bouncing along the street. Our mother was shrieking at us to get in the house. She was very annoyed with us because we had not come straight into the house. Our main interest was looking round to see if we could pick up some shrapnel from the bullets coming at us. This would have given us high rating in school the next day. We almost got a thick ear for that one.
The next exciting thing that happened was, when, in the middle of an air raid a warden came along the street warning everyone to get out quick. My father was out on duty that night. The whole street was evacuated because a bomb, an unexploded bomb, had landed in the backyard next door to my grand parents, which was next door to us. So out we went, no time to take anything with us. "
"They turfed us all out, there we all were standing in the cobbled street underneath the streetlight. The adults started getting their heads together deciding what to do. We were lucky that we had an aunt who lived in another street of terraced flats about 100 or 150 yards away. My grandmother and we three children headed in that direction. I think my mother was trying to find my father to let him know what was happening. She arrived with some neighbours who had no had relatives nearby. Those who had, had rushed off in various directions but there were those wondering what to do next. No one was saying well use the church hall or anything. My mother and aunt went back again to see who had nowhere to go. They brought more people back I am not quite sure how many people were in the house that night but there were certainly 30 or more. We were all crammed in a large kitchen, sat around the walls or on the floor. My mother and aunt made tea continuously. It seemed to last all night. I do not remember having any sleep. There were people who we had hardly even spoken to before. We were quite excited and thought great we won't have to go to school the next day but in fact it was afternoon school so we did go."
"We were thinking we'd have to go in our siren suits but a warden came across and told us we could go back in the houses. It was all a false alarm. It turned out to be a dud shell from Big Bertha, the big gun at the top of Lobley Hill. It had gone down the drain. They managed to get it out, so we could all return to our homes. We had to go to school after all.
My aunt had no bread or biscuits left and certainly no tea. Later that day everyone was back at my aunt's house giving her tea and biscuits and anything they had, to thank her.
"There was one more exciting thing that happened. I have very strong memories of the soldiers rescued from the beaches at Dunkirk. There were all these dirty, tired, weary, very dispirited and hungry men and not enough army camps to take them. They went to various places overnight and then further a field.
Someone came round the doors saying that the Dunston Board School was going to be re opened to accommodate soldiers from Dunkirk. They asked people to offer a bath and a hot meal to one or two soldiers. It was a lot to ask people to do in an area like that in those days. The housing in the area was what is now grandly called Tyneside flats. They had no bathrooms or inside toilets, it was quite a performance to have a bath your self, never mind offering a bath to strangers. There certainly was not much food around with all the rationing.
We all turned out and lined the sides of Wellington Road at the time of their expected arrival. We sisters stood in a row beside my father, jumping up and down, before the convoy arrived.
I can still remember how tired and weary the soldiers looked. I am sure they had not had much to eat since they left. They certainly had not had a wash. They were probably in the same clothes as when they had left the beaches. They really did look terrible."
"We were getting anxious. People were shouting, Hi, mate, you just come with me, but my father just stood there just looking whilst we were dancing up and down. I do not know who it was in the end. I think it was one of my sisters, who shouted. I do not think my father ever did. Two soldiers said they would be pleased to come to our home.
We had to stay outside and play while my mother organised baths for the two men who came with us. We did not see an awful lot of these soldiers. The next day the soldiers came to thank us and gave us a tin of bully beef. We discovered later that my father had been too busy looking at the men because he knew that it was very likely his brother, our Uncle Frank, would have been on the beaches of Dunkirk. He thought he might have been in one of those army lorries in that convoy.
The soldiers were from various regiments, many in fact from Australia. My sisters said they knew as soon as they saw their hats. I only remember their faces."
"My next strong recollection is that we did have a big street party when the war ended. Trestle tables were put along the cobbles, everyone in the street contributed what they could. We had to remove to the tin mission, (the local church hall) because it rained, nothing changes!"
Mary Williams remembers the war years.
"I started work in 1939 having attended Commercial College and studied book-keeping, business economics, as well as shorthand and typing. In those days most accounts were kept by male members of staff, but they were soon all "called up", and because of my training I was transferred to Accounts. This was fortunate for me as when the official came, on one of his regular visits to interview all workers who had reached the age of 18, my papers were stamped "Exempt" as the company was then on war work and I was the Book-keeper!
I was given instructions to report to the First Aid Depot where I had to do training and stay overnight one night each week and also report immediately if the air raid siren sounded. My mother was aghast, as I was prone to fainting at the sight of blood. However, orders are orders. In the event, I was never put to the test."
The war continued - a round of work, evening classes and first -aid depot to the end of the war. The only bright spot was in October 1944 when, acting as bridesmaid for my cousin, I met my future husband, who like the bridegroom was also on leave. Alas, by the end of December he had been posted to the Middle East and remained there until June 1947, long after the end of the war without any home leaves. However, he did return, we were married and lived happily together for 40 years."
Memories of September 1939 - June 1944 by Jack Dixon
"Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill-at-ease,
My fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys."
(the words of a popular song of the early 1930's)
I can relate to the first line because that is what I was doing on Sunday 3rd September, 1939, at Ravensworth Road Methodist Chapel, Dunston. I was not weary or ill-at-ease but rather excited or maybe apprehensive? After the first hymn it was accepted that in a few moments we would be at war with Germany. I could not imagine what the future would be - the excitement maybe because of the unknown, and apprehension of how the war would affect me. Shortly after 11 a.m. the preacher closed the service with a prayer, and a few minutes later the air raid sirens sound. What a weird, frightening sound and a sound which still remains with me. I left the chapel and made my way home.
No buses, no people, complete eerie silence. Maybe people were afraid to come out, imagining the skies would be black with planes (as we had been told). They would have to be fast ones to be over Dunston so soon!! It proved to be a false alarm - the first of many. The evening service was held at Wood Street Methodist Chapel - again I was on the organ seat complete with cardboard box containing gas mask!
Listened to the 9 p.m. news on radio - the ATHENIA had been torpedoed and sunk with heavy loss of life - men, women and children. Now the meaning of war hit me and excitement left me. Days went by and the term 'phoney war' expressed the situation. British troops were in France but no action had taken place. Sirens were often sounded but mostly false alarms. Christmas came but festivities were very limited. Eventually the real war started. May 1940 - the German army swept through to the Channel ports. Miraculously, more than 300,000 troops were evacuated from Dunkirk. All equipment, arms etc were left behind, mostly destroyed. Great Britain now faced invasion - the phoney war was over. Factories went into full-time, and there was now a greater sense of urgency and determination. We had to face the fact that there was every possibility on invasion. I was now in the LDV (later to be famous as 'Dad's Army') and on patrol at nights if the sirens sounded. One night, or rather at 2 a.m. in the morning, whilst listening to 2 old soldiers telling of their experiences of WW1 (World War 1) and making my hair stand on end, a messenger arrived on a bicycle. "Report to Headquarters immediately - paratroopers have been sighted dropping nearby". Fear not, I was heavily armed with a cudgel!!?! What a farce! It transpired that a balloon had been broken from its moorings and passed through a searchlight
On now to Wednesday, July 3rd 1940. A plane had been droning around for some time and it was evident from the sound of the engines that it was a German - no sirens had been sounded. Left the office at 5 p.m. to cycle home and approaching the barrage balloon site the plane dived out of the clouds machine gunning the balloon. I could clearly see the Swastika markings. Terrified, I jumped off my bike and dived into the hedge. The plane flew towards the bridges over the Tyne and I saw a huge flash and clouds of smoke and dust. My first experience of seeing a bomb dropped. Many more were to follow in the next 12 months. When I got home my father handed me a buff envelope marked 'O.H.M.S. and I did not need to open it to know that it was my 'calling up papers' - "Report to Dingle Vale Schools".
Liverpool, Thursday July 11th. Mixed feelings. What would it be like leaving home? I knew the misery of homesickness from school camps and Boy Scout Camps. I had a good home life, good pals and a great interest in piano and organ playing. All this would be lost. The next few days were grim, the waiting and uncertainty were worst. Wednesday July 10th 10 p.m. dreading the farewells at the Central Station, Newcastle. Only in later years did I realise what it must have been like for my parents to see me disappearing over the bridge to Platform 9 then returning home and worse still, a few days later when the case containing my clothes arrived.
The journey to Liverpool seemed to be never ending as I had never been further than Saltburn! Duly arrived at Lime Street Station 8 a.m. Apart from Joe Thomson (Swalwell) I had palled up with Jack Stenhouse (Benwell). The three of us found a cafe, thick chipped tea mugs and bacon sandwiches! "How do we get to Dingle Vale School?" we asked the Chinese owner. "Tlam Clar (Chinese accent) with notice Aigburth on flont". For about two miles we rumbled and clattered our way, and there was the school. Documented and issued with clothing etc. then escorted to a classroom. "Sorry lads" said the Sgt. "No palliasses yet, you will get used to sleeping on the floor!." Night came but sleep did not. There were 30 of us and it was talk, talk and more talk, and lots of fun until the Orderly Officer came and ordered "SILENCE!" After three days we dispersed to various houses in the area (there were 300 soldiers in the Company). Beautiful stone built houses, the owners evidently well off, had moved to safer areas and the army took possession.
Joe, Jack and I were in a room on the third floor, (comfort now because we had palliasses). Every morning we were marched to the school which was about a mile away for breakfast followed by the inevitable Square Bashing. I was happy and enjoying a completely new life. Exercise, discipline and comradeship, and a feeling of pride. Walking out in the evening in your best battledress (even if it was not a perfect fit) shoulders back and saluting officers, great. One morning on parade the Officer in charge said that personnel were required to form headquarters staff to control the intake of 300 recruits every Thursday. Cooks, admin, quartermaster etc. were needed and if anyone was interested to step forward otherwise instead of volunteering you would be ordered. I was pushed forward by Joe, and the Officer assumed I was volunteering. "Report to QM Captain Gosling at 2 pm." So at 2 pm I was giving an account of what I had done in Civvy Street, and I ended up in the QM Stores Office. This was start of the worst period of my six years service. Good fellows to work with, Taffy, Smithy, Ray and Stan but the work was so futile and useless. We had ledgers to control the input of clothing etc and issues of same. If the stock remaining did not tally they were simply written off!
As the weeks went by air raids became almost nightly and heavier. Sitting in the Trocadero Cinema one Saturday evening (September 15th) and listening to the Wurlitzer Organist who, later was called up, joined our unit, and eventually played the organ for our wedding, when suddenly he stopped and a notice was flashed on the screen ALL SERVICE MEN REPORT TO THEIR UNITS IMMEDIATELY. No trouble getting lifts to the school where chaos reigned. Report to the armoury was the order. Issued with rifle and five rounds and marched in groups of ten to the banks of the Mersey. Word passed that invasion was imminent and two German battleships were at the mouth of the Mersey! We lay there all night and I'm sure everybody thought the same as me, what will a rifle and five bullets do to a battleship?! At 2 pm on Sunday we were stood down. Rumours were flying around and many weeks later it was disclosed that invasion barges had been sighted in the Channel but it was not clear whether it was an exercise or the real thing. I remember once standing on the landing stage waiting for the Ferry to New Brighton when suddenly there was the sound of a bomb dropping. The piercing whistle got louder and I felt it was going to land on my back. Instead all I got was a soaking. The bomb dropped in the water near the landing stage. That bomb evidently did not have my name on it.
May 5th 1940 was the start of a week of continuous bombing every night from 7 pm till 4 am for 6 nights. I was now billeted in 99 Colebrook Road with Taffy, Smithy, Ray and Stan which was an extra storeroom for Army clothing and blankets etc. This street was only 100 yards from a huge oil storage depot - 30 tanks in all. On May 7th two tanks received direct hits and night was turned into day. There was a direct hit on No. 104 but fortunately most of the inhabitants had cleared off to Sefton Park as they felt safer there. The noise of bombs and anti-aircraft fire was deafening. The sky over the city was red. I went into Liverpool on the Saturday - fires still burning on the dock side and ships sunk by the docks. Lewis's Store completely burned out, Bryant & May's factory burning and scores of people outside the Town Hall scanning the notices of names of the dead and unidentified. There was an air of sadness and despair.
The powers-that be decided that Liverpool was not a safe place and it took them 12 months to realise that, so we were moved to Pheasey Farm Estate, Great Barr, about five miles from Birmingham. This was a huge council house estate which had just been completed at the beginning of the war but commandeered by the Army. Leaving Liverpool was a wrench despite the bombing. It is a wonderful city and I have memories which will never fade. Some happy ones, some sad. I think of the little boy who used to play with us in the evenings. We did not see him for a while but when we did on crutches - he had lost a foot. I think of the brave firemen who night after night tackled the huge fires. I think of the times I walked up the hill to the Anglican Cathedral and sat there and prayed not only for myself but for all affected by bombing. Air raids are so terrifying as you can't see your enemy, you know he is up there but you are helpless.
JULY 1941 saw us settled into our new camp and this was to alter my career and also my life. I felt that I must get out of the boring job so I requested an interview with the QM who was also in charge of Transport. I took the bull by the horns as it were and asked for a transfer to the Transport staff. As luck would have it, there was a vacancy and so I became a driver. I was so happy driving cars and lorries of all sizes. One afternoon I was detailed to go to Great Barr station to pick up an ATS Corporal and thirty other ranks. On arrival at the station there they were, all very smart. Something about the corporal attracted me immediately - standing there so smart and lovely, not only physically, but something else which was hard to describe. Whatever it was I had no doubt whatsoever that some day, if she would have me, I wanted her to be my wife. Love at first sight - call it what you will. As we talked on the way back to camp I found that she was from Birmingham (but no Birmingham accent) and was to work in the QM stores. What a stroke of luck - it meant I would see her almost every day! I was so afraid to ask her for a date so asked my pal, Taffy, to do that. "Surely he can ask me himself" was the answer. So I plucked up courage and the reply was "Yes, I would like that". Remember she was a corporal and I was a driver so officially we were not allowed to hold hands but I think we broke the rules a few times! Clifton Cinema, Perry Bar, was our first date and beginning of a wonderful courtship. After a few months she(Jessie) was posted to Lichfield on an NCO's course. I missed her so much. Eric, one of the drivers (who eventually married one of the ATS and we kept in contact long after the war ended) came to the rescue. There was an old motor cycle without a pillion seat in the garage and Eric said he would take me to Lichfield one evening. I put my greatcoat on the back mudguard and away we went. I often think how did we have the nerve to do it - goodness knows what would have happened if we had been stopped by the Redcaps! Jessie was delighted and it wasn't long before she returned to camp - this time a Sergeant.
Our next move was to Oldham where we got engaged, and then three months at Heysham, near Morecambe After that it was on to Prestatyn which was formerly Pontins Holiday Camp. We planned to get married but Army regulations stated that a married couple could not be on the same camp.. If we had gone ahead we would have been separated, so we agreed that it was better to be together and hope that some day the stupid regulation would be cancelled. Out of the blue it was when a few months later the Commandant of the ATS paid a visit to the camp. Questions were invited from the NCO's so up got Sergeant Hobson and asked was it not better for a married couple to be together in time of war than separated. The Commandant claimed that she was not aware of this rule (likely story) but would look into it. A few weeks later the regulation was cancelled so we were able to go ahead with our plans. The date was set - Saturday, June 17th 1944 at Trinity Church, Prestatyn. A glorious sunny day and understandably, a nervous one. The start of another chapter in my life.
Memories of WW2
"The first memory I have of the war was when the proprietor of the local shop (Mr. L. Jarron) came down the street shouting that war had been declared. Everyone was standing at their doors."
"Concrete barricade blocks were built on certain roads. There was just enough space for one vehicle to pass through. Do you remember where these were?"
"One day while on the way to the hairdresser's in Back Row a plane came overhead and a man pushed me over a wall by Spoor's Chapel. The plane was a German one and it machine-gunned children playing in the schoolyard in Rye Hill."
"The night they bombed the Derwent instead of the Tyne the sky was lit like illuminations with flares and incendiary bombs."
Home Guard Certificate
"All the women of the pit streets used to hold Beetle drives (no Bingo then) to raise money for a victory party after England won the war."
"Air raid sirens were sounded after the Chamberlain broadcast on the wireless, which woke the baby."
"If bananas appeared in fruit shops there were big queues. Bartering food for goods and services was usual in the village. People grew their own vegetables. Patterson's nursery on Grange Lane was where the prisoners of war were put to work."
"A shell came across the park and landed in a lady's back yard. We thought it was German but it came from the big gun in Lobley Hill known as Big Bertha, The heavy Ack Ack battery sited on Fellside Road. Everyone was evacuated from their homes and came to our house."
"An army camp of the Kent's regiment was on Fellside Road and Larkspur."
"My father and others used to bring them (soldiers) home for supper and we even had their wives come to stay."
"I used to deliver the newspaper (to the army camp) every day and used to look forward to my huge mug of tea and a big jam sandwich."
"Holidays were spent at home. Bands played and we had dances. The army played football matches against Whickham in fancy dress."
June moved to the trading estate making filters for gas masks while other buildings were being adapted for producing shell cases. The pay was five pounds a week. The pay was increased when working on furnaces.
"Working on the furnaces was alright in winter."
Marley Hill Home Guard
"The Gibside Estate was used during the last war as a training ground for the Army and the Home Guard for grenade and Sten gun practise etc., the canteen being in the now derelict hall."
"My daughter was getting christened in church, another lady was a godfather short. So one of the young soldiers who had just arrived from France stood as a godfather for her."
"At a time of very heavy bombing in London, Cockney evacuees arrived on Tyneside. A group of children, mothers and grandmothers were billeted in the disused church school building in Dunston. My grandmother was in the WRVS. I went with her when she went to see how they were coping. I remember being fascinated by their Cockney accents."
"We did not go to school full time from 1940."
"There wasn't a lot of room so the Catholic school children and the Board school children would go in the morning one week and the Hill school children would go in the afternoon. The next week it was reversed."
"I was playing in the street with my sisters and some friends because of course there was no traffic. Suddenly and simultaneously we heard a plane and a machine-gun firing and realised in fact they were above our heads and the bullets were bouncing along the street and our mother was shrieking at us to get in the house.
Our main interest was in looking round to see if we could pick up some shrapnel."
"Someone came knocking round the doors saying that the Dunston Board school was going to be opened and soldiers from Dunkirk would be billeted there and could people manage to offer a bath and a hot meal to one or two soldiers."
Whickham Memorial
On Whickham war memorial are inscribed the names of those who lost their lives in two world wars. R.A.F. Sergeant John Guthrie was shot down in a Lancaster bomber as h e flew over the village of Erskdork, Germany. He was only 23 when he was shot down. His sister still remembers the day when it happened. "My mother was informed of what happened by the war office and from what I know the rest of the crew were also in their twenties. Every time that I walk past the war memorial in Whickham I look at it as his name is on there, I think it's only natural." [Source Gateshead Post, 14 June 2000]
Killed on the Last Day
Nick Timbey was a non-commissioned officer with the Scots Fusiliers survived Dunkirk only to be killed on the Dutch/German border on the last day of the war. The whole village was devastated by the news.
Horrific Find at Dunston
Shortly after hostilities finished in World War 2, an armed merchant ship in the service of the Royal Navy was bought by ship breakers Clayton and Davie, during dismantling workmen discovered human bones behind emergency concrete repairs.
The ship, which had been in action, had had many casualties, and the emergency repairs which were necessary, concealed the presence of some dead sailors, who sailed in this floating hearse until found by the men at Dunston.
There had to be an inquest, then the bodies of the unidentified were buried in Garden House Cemetery, Swalwell.
Tom Goulbourn tells us that he was on board when the bodies were found and that his father Thomas Thompson Goulbourn was Foreman of the Jury at the Inquest.
Killed in Action WW2
Frank Calder, the last photograph to his wife before he was posted to France, 1940. He did not return from the beaches of Dunkirk.
A Son Killed in Each War
Ann Keen nee Scott Remembers
I know a great deal about Mr & Mrs Robert Scott's sons, even although one was killed twenty years before I was born and the other was killed when I was three years old. You see one was my Uncle Fred and the other was my Dad, Robert "Bob" Scott. My Granny, Margaret Humble Scott nee Elfert, kept their memories alive for me. In the days of large families my grandparents had only two sons.
Killed in Action WW1
Frederick Ernest who was born in 1894 was a great scouter. He was a member of the 19th Dunston Christ Church Boy Scouts and had the distinction of winning the Silver Wolf. This is the highest award a Scout can win and he was the first boy in the North of England to obtain this much-coveted honour. It was not until 1979 that anyone else in the Gateshead area was awarded this honour.
He served in the 1st (Northumberland) Field Ambulance, Royal Army Medical Corps, in the First World War. He died on Thursday 24th October 1918 aged 24 and was buried with honour at Abbeville Communal Cemetery Extension, Somme, France. [View Memorial on Commonwealth War Graves Commission website.]
Killed in Action WW2
Robert Norman was born in 1903 and served in the Merchant Navy, rising to the rank of Chief Engineer. He died on Wednesday 13th November 1940 aged 37 and was buried with honour at Swalwell (Garden House) Cemetery, Co Durham. [View Memorial on Commonwealth War Graves Commission website.]
I last saw my Father at Greenock, where his ship was in dry dock being fitted out against the magnetic mines laid by the Germans. His ship sailed for Falmouth where it was blown up by a different type of mine, which a German submarine had laid during the night.
My Granny hated the Germans. They killed both of her sons. The ironic part of this is that her Father, Christian Ernst Frederic Elfert, was a German who at the age of sixteen had run away to sea and ended up marrying Mary Francis Humble of North Shields.
Remembrance Sunday, Swalwell
Remembrance Day (nearest Sunday to November 11) "The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month"
The Swalwell War Memorial
is opened by the Earl
of Durham on Easter Monday 1919
Until the early 60s, Remembrance Day in Swalwell was an event to be waited for. Members of The Royal British Legion, local military and TA units plus elements from the local army cadet forces and war veterans would all parade through Swalwell. The parade would start at the RBL building at the bottom of Ruskin Road and would march along Clavering Road, down Masefield Avenue, along Crowley Road swing into the bottom of Napier Road and then turn left on Market Lane to Swalwell War Memorial which was then next to Keelman's Bridge on the Waterside.
It was a grand sight.
Led by a military band the RBL would be flying all their banners and flags, the military units would be in their different uniforms and the veterans would be bedecked in medals. All would be carrying poppy wreaths to lay at the memorial - it was an inspiring sight and despite the solemness of the occasion it did have a kind of festive air if you were just a kid.
It made you feel proud to be British. Sadly this day is no longer what it used to be.
Remembrance Sunday, Dunston
On Remembrance Sunday people would gather on Barry Street to begin the walk up Wellington Road and Dunston Road to the War Memorial. The Scouts, British Legion, and the St John's Ambulance Brigade used to march to the drum beat. On one occasion in the thirties there were seven drummers with just a glimpse of wreaths and banners behind the five buglers in the front row: In the late fifties Pipe Bands lead the way to the War Memorial with the British Legion Banners right behind them.
In 1936 the then vicar of St Nicholas asked if any motor car owners would collect men from the 'Pensions Hospital' Dunston Hill Hospital, to bring them to church on the 8th of November, this was to allow the old solders to Commemorate the death of their fellow servicemen who had been killed in the First World War.
Unveiling of Dunston War Memorial 1923
You will see from the date that some time had passed between the end of the war and the building of the memorial, a simple Celtic Cross. It took a while after the deprivation and horrors of the war before local committees could begin the fund raising necessary to finance memorials. The Celtic Cross was typical of the memorials built by smaller towns and villages.
The ceremony for Dunston war memorial, was conducted by the Reverend W .D. Macintosh (Vicar of Dunston from 1904 to 1933). He was probably responsible for the siting of the memorial as he had chosen the adjoining site for the first St. Nicholas Church that opened in 1929.
Dunston - Peace Sunday 1919
A service was held at Christ Church Dunston on Sunday July 6th,1919 to celebrate peace after the Great War.
War Work
1914-1918, Rev. C.E. Little polished shell casings as his contribution to the war effort. He used machines supplied by Vickers Armstrongs. These machines were powered by a single cylinder gas engine. His helpers were mainly 13 and 14 year old scouts. After the war the engine was used to help the church organ.
Reverend Little's Helpers
Back Row John Nevin, Alf Pyle, Harry Jackson, Eddie Goffin, Ned Redpath
Middle Row Charlie Thompson, Mrs Inglethorpe (daughter), Rev Little
Front Row Sammey Proud, Harold Proud, Jackie Bell
Florence Wood's Memories of her father
My father, William Henry Thompson, was born in West Hartlepool on the 31st March, 1894, the eldest of six children. He left school at 14 and went to live and work on a Yorkshire farm.
When the First World War broke out in 1914 he volunteered immediately and joined the Green Howards. He was in the second contingent to arrive in France, when the first army arrived, the Kaiser, when informed of the number of men in it, said 'that contemptible little army', these men then became known as the 'old contemptibles'.
The second army was much bigger so no comment was made about them. The second army marched across France to the front line, with full pack. They became tired and thirsty and so stopped at street pumps for water, only to find that some of the French had chained these pumps so the British army could not get water. They continued tired and thirsty until they reached their camp for the night.
Sometime in 1916 my father was wounded in the leg and after being sent to the field hospital was sent to England to recuperate for a few weeks and then sent back to France. In 1918 he was wounded in the arm and while he was lying semi-conscious in a shell hole with his arm outside it, a stray bullet hit him in the wrist. This time during his recuperation in England the war ended, so he did not go back to France.
At some point during the war, the Germans sent gas over the British lines which badly affected my father's lungs . In later years because of his weakened lungs, he developed pleurisy every winter and pneumonia a few times. The doctor informed my mother that his body was at least 20 years older than his age because of what he went through during the war.
It was then found that his arm, wounded at the elbow, had not been set properly at the field hospital, so the ends of the bones did not join completely. The ends of the bones not joined together began to decay and so he had inflammation and great pain for the rest of his life. The wrist and leg wounds healed completely but bits of shrapnel worked their way out of his leg right up to the year he died.
Mrs E. Kempton remembers Swalwell School During WWI
As Emily Ryle, I began Swalwell School in April 1915 and as many of my contemporaries will recall, we had a lovable, but firm, teacher in the reception class. Miss Ada Morrison was "mother" to generations of Swalwell children. This was during the First World War and we were taught at a very early age to knit double khaki scarves for the soldiers. Food was in very short supply and I well remember queuing, before school, for meat and jam. What a thrill it was to get a large jar of rhubarb and ginger jam! I remember clearly the day when Mr Sutcliffe, headmaster of the "big" school, paid a visit, dressed in his officer's uniform.
Part of the Peace Celebrations was a fancy dress parade by scholars in the schoolyard and on this occasion, each boy and girl received a Peace mug, which I still treasure.
[Mrs Kempton's mother, Emily Home, taught in the Infants Dept. at Swalwell School from 1895-98.]
Dunston - Memories of World War One
"I remember the Zeppelins coming up the Tyne. You see the Germans used to work here in peacetime. They knew where the works were and how to cause damage so sent the Zeppelins but they got turned back."
"We learned to knit. I knitted socks and gloves. The boys knitted hats. We used to have a penny a week school collection to buy cigarettes for the soldiers. When the soldiers came home what a welcome they got."
Sergeant James Firth V.C. - Boer War hero
Sergeant James Firth, a Swalwell resident, though originally from near Sheffield, lived in Quality Row and enlisted in the Duke of Wellington's West Riding regiment in July 1889; winning the Victoria Cross on 14 February 1900, during the Boer War, when he rescued two men from enemy fire by carrying them to safety.
The citation reads, "At Plewmans Farm near Arundel, Cape Colony February 24th 1900, Sergeant Firth gained the Victoria Cross for two acts of bravery and devotion" "Lance Corporal Blackman had been wounded, and was lying not more than one hundred yards from the enemy, who were keeping up a severe hail of fire on all around" "Sergeant Firth scorning the bullets aimed at him and his brigade, advanced to the stricken corporal and carried him to the cover of their own lines". Shortly afterwards, second Lieutenant T H B Wilson fell dangerously wounded, in spite of the proximity of the Boers who had advanced quite close to the firing line, Firth carried the Officer over the crest of the ridge to shelter, receiving a bullet through the eye and nose, whilst engaged in this humane act".
In 1900, Sergeant Firth was discharged as medically unfit from the services. He applied for service again in 1914 at the outbreak of World War One, but he was turned down on medical grounds. After a long period of disability he died of tuberculosis in May 1921. He probably attended Swalwell School and a presentation was made to him by the villagers on his return from South Africa.