Sooner or Later

By Harold Cunliffe

When you reach a certain age you acquire a number of tales relating to characters you have known from the past. It is with this wealth of material that my two grandchildren usually request an interesting tale before they take to their slumbers.

Of all the tales which I have related there is one which has remained in their minds, one which I am reminded of each time we pass under a certain railway bridge.

It all began when as employed as the Parks and Cemeteries foreman, one of the gardeners had previously spent time as a ‘rag and bone’ man touring the district with his horse and cart. By all accounts Mike enjoyed his time collecting old clothing due to the number of items which was in good condition and he could make use of. My two little girls however enthralled by the tale of when Mike would visit the dealer at the end of his working day. This depot was located in Chadderton, Oldham. The most direct route was via Jumbo, or Middleton Junction. The highway passes under a railway bridge, being the line to Rochdale. Each day Mike had to prepare himself for action, because upon entering the tunnel his horse would take fright at the echo of its own hoofs, its ears would pick up, followed by its hoofs. He commented that the animal would race up the highway for two miles before it calmed down and came to a standstill. So whenever passing this bridge, two little voices in the rear seat of my car enquire, “Is this where the horse frightened itself granddad?”

Above: Rag and bone man Image: David Lappin

“PIGGY”

The gardening staff that was responsible for maintaining the Central Garden area would commence work at 7:30am. Then half an hour later an elderly chap would canvass the workmen, exchanging pleasantries in the hope of procuring a cigarette or a little money to enable him the buy a breakfast. It was a waste of time him asking me, I was possibly more hard up than him. I found out many years later that this man was a retired pig farmer named Les, so this was how he gained his nick name. He was well known in the town due to the antics he got up to. It transpires that he would board a bus carrying with him an old sack. In the sack was a quantity of pig muck. After travelling a couple of bus stops he would exit the bus and leave the sack under the seat. The passengers were left to ponder where the awful pong originated. A shop keeper who witnessed him driving a horse and cart during the time he did some ‘totting’ related the story of when he allowed the horse to proceed through a red traffic light in the centre of town. A policeman observed this incident and gave chase. But when he reprimanded him for allowing his horse to go through a red traffic light he jumped from the seat of his cart and went to have a word with his horse. He stood in front of the poor animal, waving his finger he swore and cursed at the horse, exclaiming, “How many times have I told you not to go through a red light.” Les would be seen out and about, walking the streets around eight o’clock each day, so maybe he gained board at the Men’s Hostel which was located close to the centre of town. This hostel was owned by Mr Deakin, who also owned a small chip shop which was a timber construction, supported by wooden stilts and positioned over a river. Our image shows the building following its closure. The left hand room was the dining area; the right hand room was where the coal fired cooking range was located. Deakin said that he stood no messing. He had a trap door near the counter and should anyone kick off he would open the trap door and they would find themselves in the river below. He also had a strict rule at his hostel. He requested everyone be out of their beds at a certain time each morning. He found that some of the customers were reluctant to vacate their beds. To remedy this situation he had all the beds removed and the rooms were converted to hold hammocks. Should anyone fail to vacate their place of slumber Deakin would cut the rope attached to the hammock. A large coil of rope was visible in the corner of the room so this type of wake-up call must have been adopted with regularity. 

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Being interested in the history of the town in which I live commenced at a young age. Around the time that I sat the 11 plus exam, one of the teachers reached retirement age so cleared out her cupboards. It was while Miss Taylor was sorting through her huge pile of documents and old papers she found an old map of the town. Looking in my direction she said, “Cunliffe, you can have this, it will help, you are always getting lost.” Upon inspection I found that most of the roads and streets that I knew were not on this map. The town was very succinct in those days. Best of all though were the adverts placed by local businesses which were printed around the outside edge. They too did not exist today. The map dated to around 1930. The next item to arouse my interest in how the town once was came about when I visited a stationers shop in the mid 1960’s. There I noticed that the only picture postcards available gave scenes of the town at a post-war period. At this time I was employed as apprentice gardener which entailed maintaining the central area of town. This included the Central Gardens, Market Place and a large park near the local library. My first postcard purchased from the stationers depicted Market Place just after the Second World War.

Above: Post war Market Place with ARP shelter arrowed

The site was used as a Market with Air Raid shelters visible. It was while I was maintaining the grassed area that the position of the shelters could be found via using the postcard as a reference. In the location were two cast iron access covers. One to support the 35 foot Christmas tree, the other gave access to the shelters, which were still in place. Entering the passages was not easy. Metal “D” rungs were set into the brickwork which acted as a ladder. This was a great place for a gardener to cool off in summer. Along the passages three doors still existed, doors to the toilets, which still were still in place. A wooden seat was fixed to a tin bucket which was ox-blood in colour. The seats and woodwork were covered in a white cob web type of material, a mycelium fungus, due to lack of fresh air and lack of use for over twenty years. So the postcard purchase sparked an interest in seeking out more to show how the town once looked. This how I became interested in the past. June 1974 following my appointment as Parks Foreman I became known by the staff at the local newspaper. This was also a good tool to be used by the council; media coverage with events had its benefits. Around the festive period, the reporters would struggle to fill the columns of their paper. Back then nothing happened, everyone went home and no news was created. For many years I would supply the reporters with stories and items of interest. It would seem that the readers enjoyed these tales from a bygone era, because, out of the blue I was asked if I would help to produce a weekly feature known as “Bygone days.” The feature was a hit with the readers which resulted in many of them donating items, or offering pictures and stories for copying.

“SOONER”

Regular readers of my column were Keith and Wendy Connor, now friends of our family, who loaned photographs and slides which enriched the retro photographic archive. Keith decided to take pictures of the shop in which his sister was employed. Today the only images which exist of the now demolished ‘Boots the Chemist,’ are those taken by Mr Connor. The chemist had a resident cat, a real character which had the unusual name of “Sooner.” It transpires that the animal gained this name when it would ‘sooner relieve itself in the shop rather than go outside.’ Keith and Wendy loaned many old photographs of the town which were previously unseen. Special thanks for their generosity. Two pictures are featured, one shows ‘Sooner’ on the dispensing table and the second depicts the front of the chemist shop 

Above: Sooner the cat

Above: Street scene showing Boots

showing Margaret, Mr Connor’s sister. During the time I produced this feature, the method of submitting a story was to write the text in long hand, plus submit photographs for Imaging to scan in to their system. Normally the feature would be submitted a week in advance. The story was written up; the photographs were to hand, all I required was the title. Going over the story, we have a cat and a chemist, what do I come up with. Time was ticking away. Then sitting in my car outside the newspaper office I could not believe my eyes, the perfect title was looking at me. At the Civic Theatre a large sign had the words, “Puss in Boots.”

“SEE YOU LATER”

The working of a busy newspaper office is an interesting place to the outsider. Should a news item prove to be of interest, the staff are keen to cover the subject and make the story as interesting as possible. One amazing event happened during one of my visits to the office. Within the newsroom there were four reporters and one senior member of staff who would oversee the stories being uploaded into the system. This person was named the ‘matriarch.’ On this particular day news came in that the driver of a local bus company had a grievance with the management and was not happy at his job. The driver in question was allocated the route which transported passengers from the district to the newly opened Trafford Centre. Having a fairly good compliment of passengers aboard, the driver at first took the correct route along the M60 at Heaton Park, and then join the westbound carriageway, along the M62 towards Manchester. Feeling somewhat annoyed at the treatment he had received that day from those in charge, he decided to turn right, heading in the opposite direction towards Leeds. Many of the elderly passengers wondered what on earth is going on, had they boarded the wrong bus? A number of them mentioned to the driver that he was going the wrong way, but this did not change the direction of travel. Passengers then used the mobile phones to inform their families and friends. Some telephoned the police while others chuckled when they related the situation to friends who awaited their arrival at the Trafford Centre, that they would be a little late. Explaining the situation that they were heading towards Yorkshire was hard to believe. As soon as the situation became clear the police wasted no time in resolving this situation and gave chase, they managed to stop the bus near Bradford. Some of the passengers however enjoyed the ride out. But what interested me the most is how newspapers work, how 56 LANCASHIRE & NORTH WEST MAGAZINE they tick. A reporter, who was allocated the task of writing the story detailed the saga very well which made good reading, thus giving the piece the title, “Bus Driver Takes Passengers on a “Joy Ride.” The head reporter upon reading this promptly rejected the item, returning it for alteration, she commented, “This title will not do, in newspaper terms we write, “Bus Driver Kidnap’s Passengers.”

OLD MCDONALD

A well-known character, Annie McDonald, from Hulme, Manchester visited various suburbs of the City seeking work, plus hoping to fool the police by changing her location. It transpires that during the Second World War the 72 year old had taken to drink. While there is nothing wrong in this practice, you should not drink until you can’t stand up. Annie however made her place of slumber on the footpath outside the local library during August, 1942. A policeman on duty in the early hours of the morning requested that she stand up. He noticed that she smelt strongly of drink and could not stand without his assistance. For her own wellbeing he took her to the police station, on route passing the Market Place shelters, she could have slept there if she had not been so drunk. In court the Chairman asked McDonald, “Have you anything to say?” Prisoner: “I was tired. I have been house-keeping for a lady and got a few drinks. I have been getting an honest living, and if you will let me go I will go back again.” The Clerk of the Police Court stated, “The prisoner has previous. On the 15th July 1942 at Salford, charged with being drunk she was discharged with a caution. On February 24th she was sent to prison for a month, but ten days prior on the 14th February she was fined 10s, (50p). It was stated that McDonald had been before the bench 236 times previously.” The Chairman: “You will pay 20s, (£1) or thirteen days in prison.”

THE MISSING LINKS

Imagine being the keeper of the Mayoral Chain of Office at the Town Hall, then one day opening the strong room door to find that the solid gold chain was missing. This situation arose in one Lancashire town during the Second World War. Suspicion was at first with the keeper who took charge of both keys to the strong room, and this was an inside job. In fact the theft of the £900 chain was made by a former junior clerk in the Treasurers Dept. Seventeen year old Eric Clayton had left school aged 15 years and had found employment at Mather and Platt, engineers, Newton Heath, where he served for two months before taking up the position at the council in which he was in receipt of 23/- a week, which is £1-15p today. Upon leaving the Treasurers Dept he enrolled at the Wireless Training College at Liverpool with the view of entering the Merchant Navy once qualified. To finance his studies he hatched a plan of stealing the Mayoral chain and cutting up the gold links to sell as scrap. During his time with the council he had observed the keeper of the chain securing the strong room then placing the key in a certain drawer. Clayton broke in one night and stole the chain. This theft made the national news. Eric Clayton was eventually located in Liverpool when he tried to sell one of the medallions from the chain; the jeweller suspected the item to be stolen and informed the police. In a suitcase at his Admiral Street lodging the chain was found. A number of links had been damaged, some missing along with a medallion, which was never recovered. 

Clayton was tried at the Preston Quarter Sessions, where some forty magistrates heard the case. The Chairman said that they would postpone the case for six months and the sentence would depend upon the action and activities of the prisoner during this period, then they would decide what action would be taken. The magistrates wondered why this case was not dealt with locally, it was not necessary to bring it to the Quarter Sessions. It would seem that the magistrates looked leniently upon Clayton due to him wanting to help his country during wartime. He used the money for his education.

Above: Actress Dora Bryan has her hands on the gold chain worn by Cllr Frank Whitworth

The name of Wilcockson was known to everyone who lived in the district of Jumbo, and beyond. Ultimately it was their family run haulage business which made them famous. The Wilcockson’s were original from Yorkshire, living at Running Hill Head, Uppermill, Saddleworth. The family, consisting of a mother, father, who was a joiner by trade and three sons. They moved to Middleton Junction around 1870. John Willie and his brother Reuben, who was a clog maker, set up business in a shop on the main road through the village.

It was when the revolution of motor transport came about John Willie and his brother decided to set up a haulage business. John however was well known for being a hardworking man, thrifty and a non-smoker. It is interesting to note that during weekdays the vehicles were used to transport goods around Lancashire, plus visiting Fleetwood Docks to collect fresh fish. Then at the weekends the lorries would be converted into a coach by bolting on a body which contained seating. This way the vehicles did not sit idle, they brought in income by members of the public enjoying excursions to places like Bill o’ Jacks or Hollingworth Lake.

As the firm expanded tours to resorts much further afield were undertaken. Our image shows a party of holiday makers visiting Bournemouth. A notice on the chassis states that the maximum speed allowed was 12mph. It would take quite a while to travel to venues on the south coast. John Willie Wilcockson was a Primitive Methodist and financially supported his religious belief. He was described as a well-built person who would have been taller in stature if he had not suffered from a dislocated hip as a child. It was said that he was an imposing figure of a man. 

 Not many people can claim to have had their photograph taken with the Royal Family, yet John Willie did. It all began when he took a holiday at Southport, and took a trip to Liverpool. Upon arriving he noticed that there was a civic event taking place. The streets and buildings were decorated with streamers and bunting. He then found out that the Prince and Princess of Wales was to visit, they were coming to open the new Post Office. Many prominent people were to attend including Lord Derby.

Mr Wilcockson in his desire to see the Royal couple attempted to gain a position where the ceremony was to take place, but the police were keeping the area clear. It looked like all the residents of Liverpool had turned out to witness this event because it was two streets away before he gained a spot at the roadside.

He was unhappy at this spot, so took the decision to walk down the centre of the road in a manner of authority, head held high, in the search for a better spot. He was an imposing and well-dressed figure.

The first policeman he encountered stared at him, then Wilcockson held out his hand to greet him with, “Good afternoon, officer.” The policeman in was flattered by this, replying, “Good afternoon, sir,” allowed him to pass. Before long he was at the carpeted platform where the ceremony was to be performed. Mr Wilcockson went up the stairs to be met with a police inspector who asked who he was and what did he want. “Press.” Replied John Willie. “What paper?” “Oldham Chronicle,” was the reply. He subsequently witnessed the arrival of the Royal carriages and the proceedings.

When the ceremony was over the occupants were photographed on the platform for use by the press and the seat next to the Royal couple was occupied by John Willie Wilcockson.

TALES FROM THE GRAVE

At the local store where you can purchase decorating, gardening and household supplies I was asked a question by one of the assistants.

She asked if I was the person who contributed the nostalgia series in the local newspaper. She commented that while in the staff canteen a copy of the newspaper was being read and a staff member mentioned that I shop in their store.

She was obviously shocked by the way I looked, I must not look like a historian, because she said, “I thought that this column was written by an old man, who had possibly lived in town all his life and was probably dead.” n

Above: Wilcockson on tour at Bournemouth