Remembering The Old Hands – Locomen’s incidents

Built for the GWR by Peyer Peacock in 1864. No 337 seen here was photographed in 1879. No.473, ‘Sir Daniel’ class. Built at Swindon in 1869. Seen here, perhaps at Didcot, prior to 1880 alterations.

a need for beer. Those who know the London end of Southall station on the Upside might remember the Red Lion’ pub. The fence is a few feet from the engine, the road is at the same level as the railway and the pub is about 30 yards from the fence. It would be an easy vault over the railings opposite for a craving man who knew his fireman would not ‘split’ on him. His further decline is shown as the incidents crept down his page. He was unusual in that. He was never more than a 3rd class driver but that could only be that he was not senior enough to move up a grade. He was a 3rd class driver at Reading from 8th October 1894, in 1899 he had been posted to Trowbridge. In November that year he was marked down as ‘AWOL’ and when did return he was ‘insolent to his Foreman’. That was the last straw. The register states: Notice of dismissal with four weeks’ notice was served on 8th December’. But he left the service of the Great Western with a good character reference. What did Great Grandpa do? He went back to Reading and got a job in Simmonds brewery looking after the boiler and stationary steam engine. He obviously liked steam! Years later, he became landlord of the ‘King’s Arms’ in Wallingford Street, Wantage and died there in 1932. His last words to my Granddad were ‘Fetch us a pint, Will’.

A Look at The Company Staff Records! (See also the Appendix on p50)

The ancient Permanent Way Ganger at Uffington, ‘Butty’ Martin had told me most emphatically, ‘the old Company would sack yer soon as look at yer, boy’. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Here are some examples from the Company’s Staff Records. On 17th February 1874 Driver Evan Harry was taking a goods from Llantrisant to Black Mill. That was three days past his 33rd birthday. He arrived on the branch line and reversed his train into the Down Siding. He told the signalman he was going to a party in a farm house across the field and went away. Four hours, later he returned and drove on. This did not go unnoticed and the result, shown in the record book was that he was sacked and a red line was drawn under his entry in the book. But he was not sacked because on 21st September 1877 he ‘dropped a plug’ causing serious damage to the firebox and tubes and for that he was sacked. But he liked being an engine driver so he moved to the other end of South Wales and was taken on as a driver on the Monmouthshire Railway and Canal Company. On 1st August 1880 the MR&CC was amalgamated into the Great Western and Evan along with it. On 4th January 1909 he was ‘called upon to retire because of old age. He was 68. He died nine months later. On 24th November 1881 Driver 3rd class George Gazey, off duty, got drunk and was brought before the Magistrate charged with ‘attempting to commit a criminal assault on a woman in Pontypool. The record does not tell us what action the Magistrate took but the GWR suspended him from duty for 8 days and demoted him to shed engine turner and shunting Engineman. George Armstrong was Chief Locomotive Superintendent of the GWR’s Northern Division based on the great locomotive factory and engine sheds at Wolverhampton. When Armstrong heard of Gazey’s demotion he made ‘an earnest request’ that Driver Gazey be re-instated as 3rd class Engineman. So he was reinstated and Gazey’s list of errors continued to fill the lines of his record. On 1st December 1884, Wolverhampton driver William Lovejoy failed to arrive on duty to work his train. On 12th of December he failed to arrive to take out his train and was sacked. On 27th September 1890, Driver Wheeler drove from Wells to Draycott, a single line, without the benefit of the Single Line Staff. He was fined £1. On 16th March 1982 Driver Charles Haynes succumbed to the Stratford-onAvon Stationmaster’s blandishments and drove a privately ordered Special to Honeybourne without the single line Train Staff. He was fined five shillings and suspended for one day.

My Love of the GWR is Born!

As a boy I sat on the little wooden seat, usually occupied by the fireman, and listened to the chat between driver and fireman. They usually talked about events in the past – or maybe that’s the only

conversations I remember. I don’t remember what was said, 70 years ago, but what they said fascinated me, it was the folk lore of the Great Western. I joined the Western Region of British Railways to be a part of that community. I found railwaymen on Grayrigg Bank, West Coast main line, on the Settle & Carlisle, in Ireland and Italy who were welcoming to a chap who was showing an interest. The oldest railwayman I ever met, was Mr. Burgess. He was born in 1850 in South London, joined the London Chatham & Dover Railway as an engine cleaner in 1864. He became an engine driver and retired in 1914. When I met him, in 1948, I was seven years old, and he was 98. The front room of his council house at 863 Oxford Road, Tilehurst, Reading, had large-framed photographs of LC&DR locomotives. He was glad to have even a 7-year-old to talk to about his steam engines. On sunny days, his wife would take two straight-back chairs on to the front porch. The busy railway was on the far side of the Oxford Road, Tilehurst station off to our left. We’d sit out there and enjoy each other’s company watching the tank engine shunting the Cold Meat Store sidings and the main line trains rattling east and west. He set me a question. ‘The inner rail of a curve travels a shorter distance than the outer rail. How can two wheels on a rigid axle get around a curve when one is travelling further than the other. I will give you sixpence if you can tell me how that’s done.’ I put that to the drivers who allowed me on to their footplates of the Reading (GW) station pilot. I never picked on the driver who knew the answer. Mr. Burgess died in 1950. He was a locomotive man to the last and he showed me what it meant to be a railwayman.

We Move to Childrey, near Challow

Listening to and talking to the men who accepted me into their railway world was a practical history lesson. I learnt something of railway work while learning a little of what the old hand railwaymen had survived. In May 1953, our family moved to the village of Childrey. I was 12½. The nearest railway station was Challow, 2½ miles north, on the main line between Didcot and Swindon. I became a regular visitor, on non-school days and very soon was helping the porters load wagons, shunt wagons and using the shunting pole. I rode on the shunting engine, was coached in driving, drove the shunting engine, and became skilful enough to be allowed to actually do a ‘fly’ shunt. Working with the Porter, I went with him for ‘elevenses’ in the signal box. I was very soon working the bells and levers under the signalman’s instructions and began a study, under him, of the signalling regulations. I met the permanent-way (p-way) gang. Five steady men aged in their thirties and fifties and their Ganger, who must have been 60, in jacket, waistcoat, hobnailed boots, belt, braces and baggy trousers. He kept the rails perfectly aligned for ‘top’ level and gauge. Kneeling on a sleeper end, bending over to rest the side of his head on the rail top he could see a slight ‘hump’ in the rail, a dip at a fishplated joint, or a slight outward’s turn on the rail. His men, with crowbars 3ft long, would walk in single file under his direction; ‘Goo-on, goo-on….. whoa! Bars in! They would drive their long crowbars into the ballast, touching against the rail. Bob would call ‘Hup! Hup! Hup!’ and they levered back against the rail. Sometimes one ‘Hup’ was enough to adjust the track. They jacked up a sunken joint and packed granite chippings under the sleepers. This was ‘goin’ shovel packin’. That probably sounds a crude practise to younger readers, but the Blue Pullman diesel trains ran over Bob Thatcher’s track and dozens of other hobnailed Gangers’ track between Paddington and Bristol and South Wales at 90 mph several times a day, 5 day a week from 1961. They were stalwarts, hardy men, out in the cold and wind or the hot sun every day.

Their hardest duty was ‘Fogging’ the Distant signals. After a full day at work on the track, they would be at home. Dinner over, they’d look outside and see a heavy fog had come down. There was no point in going to bed, they knew they would be called

No.45. London Chatham & Dover Railway, 2-4-0 by Kirtley. (Courtesy the Chris. Wilson Collection. )

The “Challow Gang” at Challow in 1963. From left to right: Bob Tilling; Jesse Betterton, Harold New, Bill Lamble and Ganger Bob Thatcher

out for fogging. Challow signalman would go across to the Staff housing, part of the station, and ask Bill Lamble – much younger than Bob Thatcher - to call out the fogmen for the Up and Down Distant signals and one to stand beside the Up line opposite the box to ‘spot’ tail lamps on the trains for the signalman. All night, 8 hours, they would stand at their posts. Keeping a fog signal, a detonator, on the crown of the rail as long as the Distant signal was showing ‘Caution, Be prepared to stop at the first Danger signal’. P-way men were the only wages staff on the railway who were not issued with any clothing. Yet they were the most in need of hard wearing, outdoor clothing.

I Take the Queen’s Shilling!

I had had an unofficial apprenticeship to station work, signalling and even footplate work. In February 1956, I took the Queen’s shilling and left for the Infantry Boys’ Battalion at Plymouth. I joined up to get away from home and to have regular journeys from Challow to Reading and from Reading to Plymouth on the 1.30 Paddington and 8.30 Plymouth back to Reading. The big draw was this: to experience at first hand ‘Kings’ and ‘Castles’ hard at work after reading O.S Nock’s description of the work done on their footplates.

I join the Western Region at Uffington!

I joined the Western Region as a Lad Porter at Challow on 13th September 1960. The railway doctor at Swindon had advised me not to enter the locomotive side but advised me to aim at signalling ‘from there you’ll meet the locomen and then you can have lots of footplate rides,’ he said. I became a signalman at Uffington in September 1961. The Swindon – Faringdon goods ran daily. When I was on 2 – 10pm shift, I’d get to Uffington at 7a.m and ride on the tank engine to Faringdon round about 7.40. As I got to know the drivers, I was able to drive to Faringdon, shunt the yard and drive back. The drivers I remember were what, to me aged 20, seemed elderly and the firemen young.

I remember one old driver telling me of a trip he made as a fireman from Swindon to Paddington, back before the war. “We had a ‘City’ and some empty stock for Old Oak. They let us out of Swindon behind the last fast in front of the milkies that evening, and my mate knew we’d have a clear road behind that if we kept up. The ‘Cheltenham Flyer’ was all the rage at the time.”

My mate looked over to me as we pulled away and said “Shall we have a go?”

I said, “If you like.”

So, he set sail! It was a moonlit night, our engine was fine for steam and we were flying. It was great to see those side rods flashing round outside the frames, needle on the mark as we went through the Vale. My mate and I looked across to each other. We just grinned and said nothing. It was beautiful.

I Move to Challow

I took on as signalman at Challow, in March 1962. The signal box was at the west end of the station on the Downside. The Up Relief Line turned out of the Up Main 370yards west of the signal box, while the Down Relief line merged with the Down Main a few yards west of the box. There was nearly always a steam-hauled goods train waiting at the Down Relief signal at the east end of the platform. The drivers or firemen often came to the box. I got to know them and they me.

Footplate trips were easy to arrange. A visit to Swindon shed, by day or by night depending on what shift I was on, meeting a driver who recognised me, and trips to Severn Tunnel Junction, via Gloucester or via the Tunnel were possible – wherever - depending on what he was booked to do. Watching the fireman, I learned the way to fire an engine working hard or lightly ‘on the road’. I made a tape recording from the footplate of a 28xx going through the Severn tunnel. On one occasion, bound for Severn Tunnel yard, we were brought into Stoke Gifford yard and told we were ‘terminated’.

The Yard Man came to our driver. “Control doesn’t want you through the tunnel just yet. Hook off and take your engine ‘light’ back to Swindon.”

We had a Hall that morning. The driver, who had a nice Wiltshire accent, said to me. “What you needs is a recordin’ off the footplate of a faast. You go and

WD Class 2-8-0 No 90676 passing Uffington Signal Box Adrian on duty in Challow Box

4073 Class 4-6-0 No 7033 Hartlebury Castle with the 10.45 Paddington to Weston-super-Mare, passing a WD loco on the Down Relief at Challow. 1961.

tell the Bobby we wants to turn on the triangle, heads-up for Swindon, and then I’ll show you.”

The Chipping Sodbury tunnel, between Chipping Sodbury station and Badminton at the summit of the climb from Stoke Gifford is 4,444 yards long. The engine came out of the top end of the tunnel, a mile from Badminton station like a cork out of a champagne bottle. Our driver turned to me and shouted above the racket on the footplate ‘Thaat’s the fastest you’ll come thur wi’ a steam engine!’

The fastest train of the day on that line was the ‘Bristolian’. I guess we passed the surprised Badminton signalman at 60mph! Remarkable train working was done officially and unofficially in the last years of steam. I have been falsely accused of writing fiction. That is hurtful but I am about to run that risk again. On 3rd June 1964, 7020 Gloucester Castle, Driver Billy Green of Swindon shed with Fireman Dunn was at Challow with the London Division Civil Engineers Inspection Saloon. Challow was then the boundary of the London Division. The engine was chimney facing London.

That afternoon, I was visiting Reading West Main signal box. There were 222 levers and three signalmen. Reading West Junction signal box rang ‘Is Line Clear?’ for an ‘A’ headcode train. ‘Line Clear’ was given and a few second later ‘On Line.’ Half a minute after that the west end signalman shouted ‘Hey – look at this!’ I ran to the bay window and a few seconds later, 7020 with the Inspection coach rushed past at 60 mph. The distance from West Junction to West Main was a mile. As the train flew past, standing up and the windows were various members of the General Manager’s Office, waving arms, some with hats clutched! The train had been held up by the 10.08 York – Bournemouth from Cholsey to Scours Lane and got a clear road once the York had cleared the main line, going around the West Curve for Basingstoke. At Challow, on early turn next day, I looked at the train register to see the times of bell signals sent and received for the Special. Bill Mattingley had sent ‘Train Approaching’ to Wantage Road at 3.40 which is the time the train started from outside Challow box and ‘Train on Line’ when the train passed the IBS signals one and three quarter miles further east. But both bell codes were written down as the same time and ‘Train out of Section from Wantage Road 33/8 miles from Challow at 3.43.

I showed Bill Mattingley the times when he came on at 2 o’clock. He was surprised and puzzled of course but said, ‘Well, I didn’t notice them yesterday. I wrote them normally.’ Taking the leeway that can occur in writing down the times, the train had averaged at least 60 mph from a stand in just 33/8th miles. I phoned London Division for the arrival time at Paddington but they wouldn’t tell me. I phoned Swindon shed Foreman, my friend, Alan Jones. He said he’d ask Billy Green about it. A few days later, Alan phoned. ‘Billy said they’d asked him for a fast run back to Paddington. That’s all I know.’ When Alan Jones was a fireman, he was the fireman of choice, with Driver Alec (Need you go so fast?) Law, on the ‘home trainer’ That was the roller bed or ‘Locomotive Testing Plant’ used to make precise, scientific assessments of locomotive efficiency. Alan was a keen steam man and scathing of the diesels of that early period: as Loco Foreman he daily had to cope with the failure of diesels on express trains and getting them repaired. ‘Hymek’ diesels were twisting up their cardan shafts on coming up Sapperton Bank from Stroud. Spilt tea on their dashboards was leaking down on to an electric contact and insulating the copper contact with sugary deposit. The cardan shafts I saw in a row, leaning against the office wall like trophies. The sugary problem, Alan told me about. Alan told me how, when he was a fireman, the p-way department rang up Swindon shed one morning to order a track testing special for the afternoon. 5064 Bishop’s Castle was due to arrive on a goods train later in the morning. It was taken off and brought to the shed, fire cleaned, oiled round, coal and water and was ready for the afternoon’s run to South Wales. The 5-coach train was attached outside the Carriage works and they set off. Alan said, “We were doing 75” approaching Wootton Basset and I was wondering when my mate was going shut off and slow down – there was a 40mph speed restriction over the curve on to the South Wales line. Alec, shut off threw the vacuum brake handle right over for a total application. Brought it back again and opened the ejector. We hit the facer at the junction at 40 and he had the regulator open and we’re away. Going through Sodbury tunnel you could have read a newspaper by the light of my fire. We got into Newport and one of the Civils comes up to the engine. ‘Thank you very much for that, Driver. Great run for the track recorder. The speedometer in the coach was on the 100 after Sodbury station.’ Soon after ‘taking on’ at Challow, I had a Down goods waiting on the Down Relief line for a ‘path’

Ebbw Vale station. In the background are the station cottages where Don Kingdom grew up

westwards. The driver came to the signal box. He was slim built, in clean overalls, shiny boots and ‘grease top’ cap. He seemed to be young for a driver. I was impressed. After the usual greetings, he asked, ‘Would you do me a favour? I’m swotting up on the signalling Regulations. I’m taking the exam – if I pass it will look good on my record. Would you take me through all this’ he waved at the levers and instruments.

‘Only if you show me around your engine’, I replied.

‘Oh – do you like steam engines?

‘Oh yes!’ I said emphatically. So that was me and Driver Don Kingdom of Oxford shed. He was then about 37 years old. A young driver indeed. A softly spoken man with a lilting, poetic South Wales accent. Don and I became very good friends. I went with Don quite a lot by day and by night when my shifts at Challow were before or after his shift. The 6.40 a.m. Oxford – Bletchley parcels with a ‘Black Five’ was a favourite. I turned up at 6.39 from a mad dash from Uffington to join him and his mate. Climbed aboard. ‘You’re firing – there’s the shovel’ said Don cheerily. Jock stood back in his corner against the look-out glass. I looked into the fire. It was not made up. There was a hill to climb through Wolvercote tunnel on the LMS. As we pulled out. I sprinkled some coal back corners, under the door down each side of the fire box. On then to LMR at North Junction and along the level of Port Meadow. I put some more on carefully, not wanting to ‘black out’ the fire. We got through the tunnel, just about. Don shortened the cut off and eased the regulator, more coal around the grate, speed and pressure recovered. Don was born about 1925 in one of the two station cottages at Ebbw Vale (GWR) station. His father, Percy, was a signalman at Ebbw station. Don left school aged 15 in 1940 and went as an engine cleaner in the loco shed at Aberbeeg, five miles down the valley from Ebbw. He was promoted to fireman and moved to Abergavenny. Abergavenny shed had 12 roads, and 7 engines in 1940. Among these was an L&NWR Webb 0-6-2T. Wooden buffer beams. and brake blocks. The antiquated loco was the Llanvihangel banker! The incline was 4 miles long rising towards Shrewsbury at 1 in 82/95. Don was regularly fireman on this engine. He said it was ‘a poor tool’ and not good running downhill either because of the wooden brake blocks. There were cans of water on the running plate operated from the cab to pour water on the blocks to stop them catching fire from friction. Don’s driver came up against the brake van of a goods train one day ‘a bit hard’ and broke a buffer off the beam. Back to shed. Another time they came back down the bank, light, and developed a hot axle box. They went straight to shed. The fitter jacked the engine up and put some oil-soaked waste under the axle. They did another banking trip and came back to shed without any white metal left in the axle bearing. “That’s a good job then’, said the fitters, saved us the trouble of getting it out. When the shed closed in January 1958 Don was redundant. He was a senior fireman and was posted to a vacancy at Oxford. He had not been working long at Oxford when he was booked to fire a Royal Train: the Queen Mother wanted to go to Cheltenham races. In a letter Don wrote to me years later, he gave some details of that although not his driver’s name. ‘We were issued with brand new

Aberbeeg Shed with 4200 Class 2-8-0T No 4269

An L&NWR Webb 0-6-2T Coal Tank