Memories of Barnsley Issue 2

EDITOR

Rebecca Lawther

The Drill Hall, Eastgate Barnsley S70 2EU

Telephone: 01226 734302

email: editor@whmagazines.co.uk

Welcome to another edition of Memories of Barnsley. Thank you to everyone who has been in touch about the first issue, for all the lovely comments, photographs and stories we have received by post, email and telephone – they have all been very much appreciated!

DESIGN

Paul Wilkinson

Email: design@pen-and-sword.co.uk

ADVERTISING

Carolyn Mills

Tel: 01226 734704

Fax: 01226 734703

Email: carolynm@whmagazines.co.uk

PRINTERS

Warners (Midlands) Ltd

PUBLISHED BY

Wharncliffe Publishing Ltd

The Drill Hall Eastgate Barnsley

S70 2EU

© Wharncliffe Publishing 2006

All rights reserved. This material must not be reproduced without the publishers’ consent.

While we strive to ensure accuracy and impartiality of information, final responsibility for this rests with our contributors.

While every effort has been made to trace the copyright holders of featured illustrations, this has not always proved possible because of the antiquity of the images Where we have failed to acknowledge copyright please contact us and we will be happy to correct any oversight.

Don Booker MBE, has had a long career with the Barnsley Chronicle, starting in 1947 with the front advertising counter before moving on to reporting. He later held the position of editor, and is now a motoring journalist.

The daffodils are opening and the sky is getting a little bluer and it's generally a cheerful time as we reach spring again; but the mood was slightly sadder in February as this month saw the 150th anniversary of one of Barnsley's worst colliery disasters at Lundhill near Wombwell. I wonder how many of you have played on Hillies Golf Course without knowing that it was the site of such a terrible explosion where so many lost their lives.

On a brighter note though, we are now officially in FA Cup season; and it was really exciting for me to be able to write about when our very own Barnsley FC won the title nearly a century ago. One of the most popular articles from the last issue was Brian Elliott’s ‘Remembering the Theatre Royal’. This issue Brian Elliott writes about Barnsley’s ‘posh’ cinema, The Ritz. Having heard of its luxurious style, and having a more personal connection to the building as one of my relatives used to work there, I was delighted to see the photographs and read more about it, and hope that it will spark as many fond memories for readers.

We were lucky enough for this issue to be able to access an old report and newspaper article researched by Andrew Totty (Taylor) and Ian Harley, about a World War II bomber aircraft which unfortunately crashed into a quarry near Cresswell Street, Pogmoor, in 1942. It seems that whilst many of you have vague recollections regarding this, not many know the full story. If any readers have information regarding the ornaments or rings made from debris found at the crash site then we would love to hear about it.

I hope you continue to enjoy the magazine as much as we enjoy putting it together, and if you have any information and photographs which you might have which you would like to appear in the magazine please do get in touch.

Rebecca Lawther Editor

CONTRIBUTORS

Kath Parkin has been employed at the Barnsley Chronicle as a reporter for over 40 years and now works in the Sports Department. She started writing the paper’s ‘Memories’ column 17 years ago.

John Threlkeld is Deputy Editor of the Barnsley Chronicle. He started work at the newspaper in 1960 and, apart from six years with Sheffield Newspapers has worked there ever since. He has published books on coal mining.

Brian Elliott has an M Phil from Sheffield University for research on Barnsley and its neighbourhood. He now works as a freelance writer, editor and consultant, and was editor of the Aspects of Barnsley series of books, and more recently South Yorkshire Mining Disasters

6 Lifting the Cup

Remembering the proud day that Barnsley FC won the FA Cup.

12 The road ahead

Looking back over 100 years of motoring with the Eyre family.

16 The ‘posh’ cinema

Brian Elliot remembers over four decades of entertainment in the luxurious Ritz cinema.

20 Australian hero

The story of the WW2 bomber which came down in Cresswell Street, Pogmoor in 1942.

26 ‘Upon that fateful morn’

Brian Elliott recalls some of the big name acts who performed in this Wellington Street theatre in the 1950s.

32 Cutting the cloth

Taking a look at Barnsley's linen factories and bleach works.

34 Changing faces of Royston

A pictorial look at Royston, past and present.

38 Readers page Comments and memories from our readers.

42 The seat of power

A look at the history of the miners' offices on Huddersfield Road.

46 ‘They’re off’

John Threlkeld remembers Wombwell man Alan Beck.

theLifting cup

Wednesday 24 April, 1912 was a historic date for Barnsley Football Club. Rebecca Lawther looks back on the day the Reds won the FA Cup

aving helped to raise the status of South Yorkshire football by reaching the Football Association Cup final twice in three seasons, the Oakwell brigade were ready to take on West Bromwich Albion FC at

Crystal Palace on Saturday 20 April, 1912 in front of 60,000 fans who were gathered to witness the ‘piece de resistance of the football season’.

The two teams appeared to be evenly matched and both held good records; the weather was

Barnsley FA Cup winning team of 1912

witnessed at the Palace. West Bromwich had been quietly training at home and were anticipated to be at full strength, Barnsley had been in training at Lytham and had travelled down to London on Friday.

On the whole, the Barnsley team appeared stronger than it had two seasons earlier in their last appearance in a Cup final. Several of the players who had represented Barnsley in their last game of the 1909/10 season were selected again for the 1912 final, including Glendenning, Utley,

SPORT’S HEROES

GOAL: JACK COOPER Born: Nottingham Height:

inches Weight:

LEFT BACK: ARCHIBOLD TAYLOR Born: Dundee Height:

feet 91/

RIGHT BACK: RICHARD DOWNS Born: Mildridge, Durham Height: 5 feet 61/ 2 inches Weight: 12 stones

RIGHT HALF: ROBERT GLENDENNING Born: New Washington, Durham Height:

feet

inches Weight:

Photograph from the cup final at Crystal Palace which ended in a goalless draw. The match was described as ‘dour and uninspiring’.

would expect of an FA Cup final. Both teams sent thousands of fans, but there were fewer trains into London than in previous years, and many South Yorkshiremen were unable to afford the trip as they were at the end of a five week long miners strike.

Overall it was a tame first half. The Throstles had the better of the exchanges for the first part, and the Oakwell forwards were not finishing at all well. Both sides had a tendency to get offside which spoilt the flow

of the game. Albion's advances were far more dangerous than Barnsley's, though Cooper did a good job and saved several

The second half was much livelier, and both sides had a handful of chances. Several times the ball bobbed about on the Albion goal line, but no one could force the ball into the net. Wright hit the post for West Bromwich, ruining their last

The game itself was described as ‘featureless’ and ‘disappointing’. The people of Barnsley were growing tired of drawn games; everyone had been looking forward to a result and were sorely disappointed by the final score of 0–0 in the third successive drawn final at Palace.

The replay was arranged for the following Wednesday afternoon at Bramall Lane, Sheffield.

‘All roads led to Bramall Lane on Wednesday’

The replay was the first time the final tie had ever been played in Yorkshire, ‘the county of the broad acres’, and there was a good attendance of 38, 555 with receipts totalling £2,615 9s.

The ‘vast and enthusiastic’ crowd rolled up to the Sheffield ground in one continuous stream

in the hours before the match to witness what promised to be a fast-paced and exciting contest. Both sets of supporters were very confident for their respective teams, however many were leaning in favour of West Bromwich Albion – it was felt that the summery conditions would be better suited to the Staffordshire eleven.

The weather was uncomfortably hot for spectators, and for the players, who also had to contend with a pitch that was baked hard. The stamina displayed by both teams in playing through the entire 120 minute struggle, showed the quality of their

CENTRE HALF: PHILIP W. BRATLEY Born: Rawmarsh

LEFT HALF: GEORGE UTLEY

Elsecar

INSIDE RIGHT: HARRY TUFNELL

INSIDE LEFT: GEORGE TRAVERS

Trainer, William L Norman.

Weight:

OUTSIDE RIGHT: WILFRED BARTROP Born: Worksop

Height: 5 feet 8 inches

Weight: 11 stone 12lbs

CENTRE FORWARD: GEORGE LILLYCROP Born: Gosport

Height: 5 feet 61/ 2 inches

Weight: 11 stone 4lbs

OUTSIDE LEFT: JAMES MOORE Born: Boldon, Durham

Height: 5 feet 81/ 2 inches

Weight: 11 stone

OUTSIDE LEFT: BERT LEAVEY Born: Plymouth

Height: 5 feet 91/ 2 inches

11 stone 2 lbs

Barnsley’s Cup winning team, with signatures below.

Founding Father

Tiverton Preedy: 1863-1928

Before 1887, Barnsley had been a staunch Rugby town in the middle of the Sheffield District, where Association Football ruled supreme. Reverend Tiverton Preedy, cleric at the church of St Peter in Barnsley decided he wanted to “build a soccer team that the Rugbyites will not crush!”

So he formed Barnsley St Peters Football Club. They played their first friendly match against Manor House, a team from Worsborough Bridge. Barnsley won 4-0, and wore navy and maroon striped shirts.

They soon acquired the nickname ‘The Saints’ from their religious associations, and played home games in the grounds of a local pub called the Dove Inn. The pub itself was used by way of changing rooms. Preedy also applied for permission to use a local landowners field in the Oakwell district. He was turned down several times before the owner; Mr Arthur Senior finally gave in, saying, “You can have it so long as you behave yourselves.” This field, grudgingly granted, was to become the Oakwell Ground, home to Barnsley Football Club to this day.

After playing friendly matches for three seasons, with a fairly successful record, the Oakwell Saints applied to join the Sheffield District League, and were accepted immediately. They changed their strip to chocolate and white shirts, and enjoyed moderate success finishing fifth from seven in their first season (1890/91). In the 1895/6 season, Barnsley St Peters joined the Midlands League, and initially rejected a proposal to change their name to ‘Barnsley Football Club’. Two years later the same proposal was passed thanks to the influence of the Club’s new chairman, Alec Black. Under Black the Club applied for, and succeeded in gaining membership to, the professional league. The Oakwell club, along with Glossop, New Brighton, and Kettering began playing league football in the 1898/9 season. To mark the occasion, another strip change occurred, this time to red shirts and white shorts, a combination that the club has stuck to.

After the founding of the club, Tiverton Preedy left the area in 1893 to take the curacy in St Clements Church, Islington; before moving on to administer the mission in WhiteLion Street near the Angel, Islington.

Cooper as one of Barnsley's heroes of the game, for he cleared many difficult shots which he might easily have conceded, and

appeared to anticipate what West Bromwich's forwards were going to do before they even did it. He was assisted by two ‘outstanding

backs’, Downs and Taylor, and the three showed a good understanding of one another. The report also mentioned Glendenning, describing him as ‘about the best man on the field’.

The Cup, which was supplied by Fattorini & Sons, Ltd of Bradford, was presented after the game by Mr J C Clegg who congratulated both sides on their sportsmanship and handed the Cup to Archie Taylor ‘with greatest pleasure’. The two team captains shook hands and Pennington congratulated Taylor warmly on Barnsley's handsome victory. Both the winners and the runners up were presented with gold medals, and individual players were rewarded financially for their success in Cup matches.

The streets of Barnsley’s town centre were filled with throngs of people who were eagerly awaiting the result. There was much jubilation when news of the final

Clarence Hotel, in Sheffield Rd, the headquarters of Barnsley Football club.

Crowds gather to listen to the result of the final.

score reached those waiting.

It was arranged that the Barnsley team would return to town around 8.00pm, though long before this Sheffield Road; from May Day Green to the Borough boundary; was a mass of people. The team was a little behind schedule due to the lateness of the final whistle of the match, and all traffic was stopped in Sheffield Road. There was a significant police presence, despite the crowd being quite orderly; they entertained

themselves by cheering on exhausted cyclists who were returning from Sheffield. When the team's char-a-banc came into view of the crowd they scrambled to get close to the vehicle, and people clung on to the sides.

Taylor was seated at the front with the Cup, and the whole team waved their hats as they were greeted with deafening cheers and music from the Territorial band which continued along the road on the slow progression towards the town. Hundreds of people watched from their bedroom windows, their houses decorated with red and white flags and streamers.

The crowds gathered outside the club's headquarters, the Clarence Hotel in Sheffield Road, and when the char-a-banc came to a stop there Taylor lifted the Cup triumphantly. The players made their way up to the second storey balcony which was decorated and lit up with electric lamps where they were received by the Mayor and speeches were made, though

those standing on the street below struggled to hear what was said over the continuous and deafening cheers. Encouraged by the crowd, Tufnell (the goal scorer) made a short speech and was lifted onto the shoulders of his colleagues which set off new bursts of cheers. The players then went back into the hotel and the crowds began to disperse.

Barnsley FC broke several records in the 1911-12 season, including playing in a record number of drawn games. It took twelve matches that season before any team lifted the Cup, rather than the usual six. They were also the first club who appeared twice in the Cup final whilst being in the Second Division, it had only been won twice before by Second Division clubs.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Photographs courtesy of Arthur Bower, Chris and Pearl Sharp and Taylor Archive.

The victorious team returns with the Cup to a rapturous

Booklet produced prior to the cup final giving a brief history of the club and statistics.

FA Cup winners’ medal from the 1912 Final.

The road ahead

One of Barnsley’s early motor engineers and traders was Eyre Bros Ltd. The family have 100 years association with transport and Don Booker MBE , the Barnsley Chronicle motoring writer, looks back along the road they have taken

he pioneering days of motoring early last centenary must have been exciting, just as the new technological gadgetry excites and bewilders many today.

Motor engineers and traders started to appear on Barnsley's business and commercial scene around 100 years ago. They included Eyre Bros, L V Grimes, Reynolds Bros, Harry N Booker, and J C Snell.

Only Snell retains a title today, but Eyre Bros are marking a centenary of continuous association with the motor trade through the grandson of Hubert Eyre, Stephen Eyre, of Cawthorne. He has been with the same company for 33 years, now Perrys of Doncaster, where he is general manager.

Eyre Bros was sold to the late Derek Cook in 1984. Eventually the company name disappeared, but the family still have grass roots involvement with transport in the town.

The business was founded in 1906 by Hubert Eyre at Ardsley, where petrol was sold not from a pump but from two gallon cans. Benzol was also produced at a local colliery chemical works and this was offered at 41/2 d per gallon.

Motorcycles were the first form of transport to be sold, and cars followed shortly after; the first being an 8hp Darracq Tourer, which was fitted with solid tyres and without such luxuries as a

Petrol was sold not from a pump but from two gallon cans...

Hubert Eyre, aged 22, at the gate of Ardsley Lodge in 1911. The car was a Napier and the chap in the rear is thought to be a villager.

windscreen or hood.

The Darracq was Barnsley's first hire car, and formed the basis of a hire fleet.

In 1909 Hubert was joined by his brother, George, and the business continued to expand resulting in the tenancy of town centre premises known as King's Head Hotel Mews. The stables were demolished and the coach houses converted into garage accommodation. The business was then run under the name of Eyre Bros Ltd.

There was an increase in the demand for repairs, both from the public and from the company’s fleet of cars and chara-bancs. Further expansion was needed, even though the First

World War started, which slowed down production in many areas of business across the country. To cope with the demand, garage and workshop space was taken in Regent Street South in 1914, and a year later shop premises were taken in Eldon Street.

These were adjoining the former King's Head garage and the site was developed into a showroom and offices from which I bought my first new car in 1959, an Austin Farina A40. They used this site until moving to new premises in Regent Street, which is now used as a night club.

When the First World War ended, the company entered the retail motor trade in a big way and one of the first orders was

placed on 3 December 1918 for an Austin 20 Landaulette, it was delivered in 1920. Orders were also placed for versions of the Star, Angus-Sanderson, Bean, Overland, Richardson, and even a Morgan – a three-wheeler at that time.

Commercial vehicles were also ordered including Leyland, AEC, Guy and Napier.

It was 1930 before the firm secured the famous Austin franchise, and this meant re-building the Market Hill premises. Premises were also bought in Peel Street next to the King George Hotel, and also extensive premises in Huddersfield Road, eventually opening new showrooms at

Before entering the London to Brighton Run, George Eyre, at the wheel of the 1902 Napier, would call at the Barnsley Chronicle office in Church Street, so a photograph could be taken. Leaning on the car is mechanic George Bennett. In the doorway is a young Don Booker in 1949.

Claycliffe Road, Barugh.

The first directors were Hubert and George Eyre; the latter was the well-known driver of a vintage 1902 Napier with which he would always call at the Barnsley Chronicle office in Church Street for a photograph,

two days before participating in the London to Brighton run. The Napier had Barnsley's first-ever registration number, HE 1. During my motor-writing travels, Hubert told me of the days when there was no insurance for cars and the road

tax was the same as it was for a pony and trap – a few pence. The driving license was like a dog license and cost 5s (25p).

When driving the 120 miles from Llandudno he never met another vehicle, but his paraffin lamps were constantly being blown out by the wind. He had to buy a lamp from a cyclist for 7s 6d (371/2 p) and return it later by post.

Hugh and Peter Eyre, sons of Hubert Eyre, joined the board just after the Second World War, along with Hamish Crate, Company Secretary. Peter died in 2001, but Hugh still lives at Cawthorne, aged 88, and retains a keen interest in motoring. He told me: "Today's cars are remarkable. They are so reliable, perform so well, and one could drive to London from Barnsley without stopping.

"In our early trading days there were few foreign cars, and they were mainly prestige makes. Motorways revolutionized travel, and I can remember some workers at Triumph who would drive to London and back from Coventry in their dinner hour."

The final comment from the last link in the family motoring story comes from Stephen: "I'm proud to be associated with the motor trade, and even more so to continue the Eyre family connection for an unbroken period of 100 years."

The 1902 Napier also competed abroad with the Veteran Car Club and is seen at Le Touquet, France, proudly displaying Barnsley's first registration number, HE 1

The first Mini to go on sale in Barnsley was at Eyre Bros Peel Street showroom in the summer of 1959. Pictured, left to right, are Hubert Ere (with pipe), his sons Peter and Hugh, Ralph Grimes and George Thompson. Second from right was Ken Adams, the company's first sales manager. Seated include Olga Frostick, a receptionist and Jack Schofield, a later sales manager.

Hugh Eyre, 88, with nephew Stephen Eyre, who still maintains a link with the retail motor industry.

A view of the past

Old Barnsley

Has an extensive collection of images of Yorkshire, showing local towns and villages of the early 1900s

Old Barnsley is a unique stall with over 6000 images of Yorkshire towns and villages taken in the early 1900s. Of particular interest are the buildings and shops long since faded away, which may rekindle fond memories of bygone days. Other subjects include: canals, collieries, industries, armed forces, royal visits and other social events. We may have something which is right up your street. As well as photographs we stock a wide range of local books and magazines; along with commemorative plates, coal figures and other mining memorabilia.

Perhaps we have a view you would like mounted in a frame. You may also bring your own picture or postcard that you would like us to enlarge or frame.

The ‘posh’ Cinema

information about its early history, combined with personal memories – hopefully much more will come from readers.

The Ritz began life as a Union Super Cinema in 1937 and closed its doors for the last time thirty-seven years later, on 16 March 1974.

Sadly, demolition of the art deco building followed soon afterwards, the site ignomiously occupied by a new (Co-op) supermarket car park.

Of course, cinema audiences

had dropped markedly during the Swinging Sixties when television ownership soared, and especially after the arrival of Independent Television (ITV). By the early 1970s new, more sustainable ways of presenting films emerged. For some venues, it meant a divided auditoria and, in the 1980s, the Americanstyle multiplex. Interestingly, the Ritz’s last manager, Arthur Seddon moved to a new multiscreen cinema at Hull. The great tragedy of Barnsley’s Ritz was that it was not listed as being of architectural or historic interest. Unfortunately, our relatively recent recognition of the British cinema architecture has come far too late. All we have left are photographs, ephemera and fading memories. I recently visited The Coronet, now Wetherspoon pub in the Holloway Road area of London, tastefully adapted from a large former (1930s?) cinema and, latterly, a snooker hall. The old cinema interior is absolutely magnificent, mostly unchanged, the building given a new, vibrant lease of life. Reasonably priced beer and food, too.

My earliest memories of the Ritz was when I occasionally attended the Saturday morning children’s matinee during the 1950s. It was a great treat for me and friends to travel to Barnsley

From the 30s to the 60s, cinemas played a large part in family gives us an insight into the Ritz

The great tragedy of Barnsley’s Ritz was that it was not listed as being of architectural or historic interest...

from my home at Carlton – and made a nice change from walking to the Ace or Palace cinemas at Royston. Then, the Ritz was probably part of the ABC group of companies but its original owners, Union Cinemas, also had a strong tradition of junior participation via their Chums’ Clubs. ‘A happy group of Barnsley Chums’ was featured in their November 1937 programme.

The youngsters were treated to a visit by Jack Field, the ‘YoYo’ champion of Europe ‘whose mastery of the devilish little toy set all the Chums busy trying to emulate him...’ No video games in those days. The Chums’ recruitment song, rendered to the tune Blaze Away, went something like:

Come along and join our party, Let’s enrol you as a chum. With all your pals so gay and hearty We can hardly wait For Saturday to come. What fun we have at every meeting:

The good old Ritz will take some beating.

That’s why I shout: ‘Whooppee!”

I’m glad that I’m a Union Chum Then, as a teenager, it was a handy place to do a bit of courting and, if you could manage it, get in an X-certificated film at a time when censorship abounded.

The most impressive film that I saw there, however, was when I was a student, in 1969. This was Ken Loache’s Kes, based on the

Barnsley’s ‘posh’ cinema, The Ritz, was purpose-built in 1937.

The Ritz staff assemble for the grand opening in 1937.

book by the Hoyland Common writer Barry Hines, A Kestrel for a Nave. The low-budget film, which used an almost totally non-professional cast, featured ‘Billy Casper’, played by local schoolboy David (Dai) Bradley – and a memorable cameo performance by Brian Glover as the PE teacher.

Kes was premiered at

the ABCs in Doncaster and Barnsley. I can’t believe that this was almost forty years ago. At the time I seem to remember some discussion as to whether non-Yorkshire audiences would understand the dialogue!

Recently, Kes was voted 7th (out of 100) ‘best films’ by the British Film Institute and 28th in a World Cinema census.

The economic depression of the 1930s affected Barnsley families pretty badly. Many pits were working part-time, poverty was widespread, and there was a great shortage of housing. George Orwell came here in order to experience hardship and working conditions, when researching his book The Road to Wigan Pier

Yet it was also a period of what we now call regeneration, when several landmark public and commercial buildings were erected, changing the face of the old town.

These included the Mining and Technical College (193032) and Town Hall (1932-33),

Barnsley Permanent Building Society’s new premises at the top of Regent Street (1936), Montague Burton’s tailoring emporium at the corner of Eldon Street and Queen Street (1930), as well as the establishment of two notable chain stores: F W Woolworth’s (c1930) and Marks & Spencer’s (1937). Along Pitt Street, opposite Taylor’s Mill, a new luxury picture palace was built in the modern art deco style, its striking facade enhanced at night by the use of neon. The name RITZ was placed in large vertical lettering on either side of a triangular centrepiece, and ‘UNION CINEMAS’ emblazoned above the roof line. It was a magnificent exterior. Glitz in depressed Barnsley.

The Ritz was designed by Verity and Beverley to the requirements of J H Lundy, Director of Theatre Construction to the Union Cinemas Ltd, in consultation with their staff architect, H F Tulley. An earlier Ritz Super Cinema was located in Hallgate, Doncaster. The Union company underwent a huge expansion programme during the 1930s, accumulating a portfolio of over 250 cinemas. By 1939 there were 5,000 picture palaces in Britain. Barnsley’s 2,000 seat Ritz was one of the very best.

The first Ritz advertisement to appear in the Barnsley Chronicle, 1937

The Ritz organist Trevour Willets who played there from 1943 to 1962. His signature tune was We’ll All Go Riding on a Rainbow.

Early ‘Stage and Screen’ advert for the new Ritz .

A preview of the sumptious interior of the Barnsley building appeared in the Barnsley Chronicle of 20 March 1937, a few days before the official opening:

‘One enters the new Ritz through a double line of glass doors, which forms a glass lobby, into the spacious main vestibule, which leads to the stalls on the ground floor, and to the grand staircases to the balcony. An atmosphere of wealth and warmth is imparted by the decorative scheme in these foyers, which is repeated on a larger scale in the auditorium. The decorations give a feeling of luxury and are enhanced by the artistic use of mirrors and a most attractive lighting scheme.’

The colour scheme in the auditorium was in ‘graded tones of terracotta, peach and gold’, with the seats and carpets ‘in harmony’, therefore creating ‘a thoroughly pleasing effect of intimacy’.

Going to the Ritz in the 1930s was excellent value for money. The main feature film, for example Charles Lawton in Vessel of Wrath or More Than a Secretary, featuring Jean Arthur, was followed by a ‘full supporting programme’.

The latter was no exaggeration. It might include a ‘B’ movie (following the British News) and a short cartoon (in colour),

perhaps Popeye the Sailor meets Ali Barber’s Thieves. But, of course, that was not all. During the interval the audience was entertained by the Wurlitzer organ and there was an an hour or two of live variety. For 6d (2.5p) to 1s (5p) in the stalls or 1s.6d (7.5 p) for best seats in the balcony you got almost five hours continuous entertainment.

In the early 1990s, former projectionist Alf Steele, recalled the likes of Charlie Kunz; Wilson, Keppel and Betty (sand dancers); Sandy Powell (Can you hear me mother?); Gert and Daisy (Elsie and Doris Waters), Billy Costello (Popeye); Wee Georgie Wood; Stainless Stephen and many others.

At the grand opening, on the evening of Monday 22 March 1937, before Alderman J Jones, the Mayor of Barnsley, the main feature film was My Man Godfrey, starring William Powell. Much was made of the sound system, described as the ‘new wonder Mirrophonic...a perfect illusion of reality’. Unfortunately, the new Wurlitzer organ was not fully operational. The situation was remedied on 26 April, with a special guest appearance of H Robinson Cleaver who, at the time, was almost as popular as the great Reginald Dixon. Cleaver’s repertoire included his signature tune, An Earful of Music.

What a marvellous sight it was to see the Wurlitzer console rise into view, as if by magic, amid a myriad of changing lights. Norman Townsend was the first organist, then Arthur Manning but the most well known player at the ‘Mighty Organ’ was Trevor Willetts. An Elsecar miner, he took over on a part-time basis in 1944, becoming permanent organist and musical director after the War. Trevor continued until 1962, making several BBC broadcasts in the course of his notable residency. Until the 1980s he continued to entertain members of Swaithe Working Men’s Club. Do you remember Trevor’s signature Tune? It was, We’ll All Go Riding on a Rainbow Super cinemas such as the Ritz employed many staff, from pageboys to projectionists, cashiers to ushers. If you have special memories of the Ritz - as a former employee – or customer, then do let us know. I’m sure your comments will make very interesting reading.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Old Cinemas, Allen Eyles, Shire Books, 2005

Cinemas in Britain: One Hundred years of Cinema Architecture, Richard Gray, Lund Humphries, 1996

For further information on Barnsley during the 1930s see my book Barnsley’s History from the Air, 19261939, Wharncliffe Books, 1994.

All the illustrations are from the Brian Elliott Collection and Chris and Pearl Sharp

Ritz staff: perhaps at a retirement presentation. Can anyone supply further information?

Australian hero

The story of an unsung hero was unearthed after a charred fragment of map came into the possession of Andrew Totty on the death of his aunt. Paul Wilkinson recounts the tragic story of Z9289

attack docks and shipping at Cherbourg, France.

The lead aircraft Z9289, Captained by Alexander ‘Bruno’ Hollingworth, took to the air at 4.24 am.

This was his ‘nursery flight’ – first flight – as captain and as the day unfolded would prove to be his finale. As it would be also for wireless operator/air gunner,

Canadian Sgt Alexander Gibson Buchanan, known as ‘Buck’ to his friends. The three other crew members that day were: Sgt John Toker Clough Hazledine, second pilot; Canadian Ed A Brain, observer (later known as navigator and bomb aimer); and seated in the tail of the bomber, manning the four .303 Browning machine guns was Sgt Leonard Jackson.

Their brief that Tuesday morning was to

As they flew over the French coastline, they found it impossible to identify their target due to the heavy cloud cover, and as they had been instructed on the pre-flight brief, if they could not identify the target they were to return with full bomb load. All three Whitleys turned to return to base.

It was whilst over Cherbourg that Hollingworth’s aircraft started to develop problems. The starboard engine’s exactor control – which was an early form of constant speed unit – started to fail, which caused the engine to

Australian born Alexander ‘Bruno’ Hollingworth, pilot on the Whitley Z9289.

Fragment of map passed onto Andrew Totty (now Taylor), which initiated his investigation into the flight of Z9289. Written on the back were the words, ‘Came down in Pogmoor Tuesday 6 Jan 1942 Whitley Bomber’.

over-rev. With the temperature gauge off the scale, it was obvious to the pilot that the engine was in danger of catching fire. It was decided to shut down the engine and limp back to base on one engine.

On reaching England, they were greeted by a cone of three searchlights, indicating they knew the aircraft was in trouble and showing the direction to the nearest aerodrome. A point noted by the Officer in Command, who in his report, had remarked bluntly, ‘should have landed at nearest drome instead of trying to return to base’.

Aerial shot of the city and port of Cherbourg. The three Whitleys were detailed to attack the docks and shipping.

Operations detail showing the ‘down’ time of Z9289 to be 10.10am.

Survivor story

Canadian, Sgt Ed Brain, navigator/bomb aimer on Z9289 was the only crew member to survive the war. He recalls his memories of his friends and the events that led to the deaths of pilot Alexander ‘Bruno’ Hollingworth and Alexander ‘Buck’ Buchanan, wireless operator/airgunner.

“Alexander ‘Buck’ Buchanan was a large man, always cheerful and smiling. He had joined 102 Squadron at Topcliffe several weeks or months before Alexander ‘Bruno’ Hollingworth and I. Buck and I used to visit Ripon and Harrogate occasionally together for relaxation and fun. Shortly before ‘that flight’ I loaned Buck five quid to send flowers to his mom.

The flight was a ‘nursery’ for Bruno – his first as Captain. He had done others as ‘second Dickie’. He was smaller than me – about five feet ten, 160lbs, balding with reddish wiry curling hair, freckles, brown eyes and a slightly round-ended nose.

Johnny Hazeldine (co pilot) was a short fellow, about five foot three, long black straight hair, with a London educated accent. His next flight after this was to be his ‘nursery’ as a Captain and I believe it was over Emden, Germany. He didn’t return.

‘Jacko’ Jackson was a Geordie, I believe – as solid as a rock and very dependable. He and I were usually in the same crew skippered by Flight Sgt ‘Bram’ Boothwright. We were loaned to Bruno for his nursery. Jacko was about five feet eight inches,

Perhaps, as it was his first flight as captain, Hollingworth decided he would rather attempt to coax the aircraft back to base at Dalton.

It soon became apparent that the aircraft was losing height too quickly. 12 miles south of Sheffield, over open moorland, Hollingworth gave the order to jettison their 12 250lb bombs, after disarming them.

Still losing height, and by now approaching areas to the south of Barnsley, Hollingworth tried to restart the engine. The engine burst into flames. It became clear to all onboard that the aircraft was now going down. Hollingworth signalled to Brain to parachute out, along with the rest of the crew.

Eye witness accounts indicate three parachutes unfolding. The first, probably Jackson, in

regular features, straight blondish hair and a dry sense of humour.

Briefing was in the late afternoon and early evening. We did a pre-ops flight in the morning to ensure that everything was all right. The briefing gave us the flight path, target, time of take-off, time over target, info on defences, heights to cross the English and enemy coasts, Met forecast winds at all heights, cloud cover, moonlight, bombload, height to bomb, light beacons in England, radio beacons, etc. There was no radar nor radar navigation aids for us. We used D R – dead reckoning – map reading if you could see the ground, astro navigation with sextant.

We were briefed on fuel load, ammunition and special instructions. In this case there was ‘no way’ that we were to drop our bombs without definitely identifying the Cherbourg docks, and drop only on the docks. We were to bring the bombs back to base if we couldn’t attack the target. If we had any questions they were answered.

Then I would usually go back to my bunk and listen to Glen Miller records that I had. We had an operational flight crew meal about an hour or so before flight time, then we assembled in the aircrew room and out into the back of a lorry to dispersal where the aircraft was – into the aircraft, stow our gear, test all our equipment, keep wireless silence at all costs, fire the guns into the ground to test them, rev the engines and out to the line-up for take-off. Then wait for the green Aldis lamp signal to take off.

The Whitley usually took ages to get airborne, but it was a good solid aircraft. I had all my courses to fly prepared beforehand and passed them, at

fields near between Genn Lane and Locke Park; next Hazeldine, in ‘Bull Fields’, which was somewhere between Broadway and Dodworth Road; and thirdly, Brain, just before Dodworth Road. As the plane crossed over Dodworth Road, a fourth figure emerged, Buchanan. But he had left his exit too late.

One eye witness, Mr Ernest Guest reported, “a crewman baled out and may have caught the chimney of the destructor [incinerator for refuse] cottage”. In any case, the plane was too low for the parachute to open and Buchanan was killed.

Alexander Hollingworth, was left alone in the bomber. Witness accounts differ in the exact course to its eventual crash site, but it was clear that Hollingworth was desperately

the appropriate time, by slips of paper to Skipper Bruno to set on the compass and fly that course. We would be gaining altitude all the way down England to get as high as we could. The rear gunner ‘Jacko’ and ‘Johnny’ the second Dickie, would give me any news of flashing beacons or pin points. Buck might give me radio bearings to plot. Usually on other targets you would get flak from anti-aircraft fire from around the target which would help locate exactly where the target was. That night, if I remember correctly, there wasn’t much, if any, flak and it was pitch dark...I couldn’t see a thing.

Still losing height,...it became clear to all onboard that the aircraft was going down...

Rear view of the Whitley MkV, showing the 4 x .303 Browning machine guns, which on the Z9289 were manned by Sgt Leonard Jackson.

Ed Brain in his position as a bomb aimer.

a coolant leak.

We turned and headed for home on one engine. Over the English coasts we were greeted by a cone of three searchlights – indicating to us that they knew we were in trouble and could indicate the path to the nearest ‘drome’.

Bruno said, ‘They want us to land but I want

I selected the ‘bombs safe’ – double checked ‘safe and unarmed’ and opened the bomb doors. I selected open ground in what looked like a quarry site – away went the bombs – no explosion thank goodness! Bomb doors closed; back to navigate again.

If I remember correctly, Bruno tried to re-start the starboard engine as we were getting lower and lower, and this a fair way from the nearest aerodrome. We were all furiously busy. Bruno coaxing the aircraft and engine with Johnny’s help. Buck getting bearings and probably rapping out a ‘Mayday’, Jacko alone out the back reading places we passed over and I busy plotting courses advising nearest aerodromes and what to avoid.

It was now broad daylight and I understand Bruno tried to restart the starboard engine. I was completely engrossed in my navigating when I felt a punch on my arm. It was Bruno. He was pointing to the starboard engine completely ablaze with flames seemingly fifteen foot long. He signalled to get out.

I couldn’t see Johnny – he had already baled out. I followed the drill that was drummed into us. Bruno, by now, was without a helmet and microphone so I switched my mike on and said, ‘Parachute parachute – abandon aircraft by parachute.’

The flames were getting longer. I didn’t hear from Jacko but assumed he had gone. I looked

We moved quickly, yet it seemed in our own minds to be in slow motion. I went forward to the nose door. As I passed Bruno his face was ashen white. We exchanged thumbs-up and I looked back for Buck. He was right behind me.

Down to the opening, I sat on the edge and put my feet through the slip stream, one of my flight boots was torn off by it. I checked my harness and chute ever so quickly, grasped the ‘D’ ring on the chute and push-jumped out of the hole in the floor. As I dropped my arms flung upward and legs out straight; the ‘D’ ring was now away from the chute. I looked at it and thought, ‘Oh my God – my chute hasn’t opened.’ I turned my hand over and dropped it. All of a sudden I felt as if I was jerked ten feet back up in the air – my chute was open. I looked around. ‘Boom!’ there was an explosion – the plane was a ball of fire. ‘Boom!’ again and a mushroom of smoke. A car was stopped on the road beside the fields where I had landed. It was a policeman. I gathered my parachute and went to the car and got in. My left leg started to shake and I couldn’t stop it.

Did the other chute open completely? Was Buck alright? The policeman didn’t answer directly. I can’t remember what else we talked about on the short trip to the police station. There was Johnny and we had a cup of tea well laced with rum – I think. No, Buck hadn’t made it. Neither had Bruno. Jacko was all right but had injured his foot.”

Plaque dedicated to the memory of Hollingworth and Buchanan, in Cresswell Street, Pogmoor.

trying to ditch the plane away from any populated area.

Mrs Olive Gledhill was at the time sweeping the street outside her home in Cresswell Street, Pogmoor; “I heard a plane, a funny noise – realised something was wrong and looked up to see this plane on fire. I don’t know where my brush went but I ran inside, banged the door and got under the stone sink”.

The bomber crashed into the clay pit quarry off Cresswell Street. Mr Norman Greenfield, who was serving as a Fire Service Officer at the time, was on the tender that went to the crash. He saw

Whitley MKV

The Armstrong-Whitworth Whitley first flew in March 1936. Although, it was more capable than the aircraft it replaced, the Whitley was hardly a modern looking aircraft. With a slab-sided fuselage and prominent jutting chin, along with its distinctive ‘nosedown’ attitude in flight, the aircraft acquired the nickname, ‘Flying Barn Door’.

The Whitley’s first operations of the war were not to drop bombs but leaflets, and these duties continued well into 1940. Its first bombing raid into Germany came on 19-20 March, 1940; and also carried out the first RAF raid on Italy in June, 1940.

With its relatively low speed, it was mainly entrusted with night operations, with a few notable exceptions. One such being the ‘thousand bomber’ raid on Koln, in May, 1942. It was retired from frontline service in late 1942. It served out the remainder of its flying days in a number of roles, such as U-boat detroyer, radar tester, transportation of goods and advanced bomber training.

With Bomber Command Whitleys flew 8,996 operations, dropped 9,845 tons of bombs and lost 269 aircraft in action.

POWERPLANT

LENGTH

HEIGHT

WING SPAN

MAX SPEED

SERVICE CEILING

MACHINE GUNS

BOMB LOAD

CREW

STRENGTHS WEAKNESS

TECHNICAL INFORMATION

2x Rolls-Royce Merlin x 12-cylinder inline, rated at 1145 hp (853.59 kW) each

70ft 6 inch

15ft

84ft

230mph at 16,400ft

26.000ft

1 x .303 Vickers K in nose turret – 4 x .303 Browning in tail turrret

the aircraft from the Fire Station (then in Church Fields), as it flew towards Pogmoor from the direction of town. Upon arrival he saw the aircraft wreck on the upper slopes of the ash infill (which he guessed would half fill the quarry at that time). The aircraft engine was detached from the aircraft and had pushed the pilot into the tip, displacing a large volume of ash. ‘It was a Corporation tip and the infill would be soft stuff – coal ash and the like’. The pilot’s leg and arm could be seen but his body remained trapped by the large engine.

Mr Les Hall, was manning a searchlight battery at Ardsley, when he was called to attend the crash. He saw, ‘a body of a man trapped under the engine. He was lying face down, stretched out, with the engine across his back. He had polished boots and white socks. They couldn’t rock the engine off him, so a truck (or fire tender) was used to drag the engine away.’

Even though the site was guarded by the military police, many managed to get pieces of the plane as souvenirs. Pieces of perspex found after the plane was removed were used to make rings and ornaments. Children also collected ammunition from the site.

The deaths were not reported in the newspapers of 1942, as such incidents were subject to a strict embargo.

The bodies were taken to Finningley Aerodrome, near Doncaster. Alexander ‘Bruno’ Hollingworth was buried alongside Alexander Gibson Buchanan at Rose Hill Cemetery, Cantley, Doncaster.

Jackson was also killed in action on 24 September, 1942. Sgt Brain survived the war.

In recognition of Hollingworth’s brave decision to stay with the aircraft, to prevent it crashing into a populated area, a plaque dedicated to the memory of Hollingworth and Buchanan was unveiled by the Mayor of Barnsley, on Sunday 5 January, 1985, on the frontage of a Royal British Legion Bungalow in Cresswell Street.

Grave of Hollingworth in Rose Hill Cemetery, Cantley, Doncaster. The inscription reads, ‘He lived nobly and died bravely’.

Up to 7,000lb in total

5:

• pilot

• co pilot

• navigator/ bomb aimer

• nose-gunner/ wireless operator

• tailgunner

Long range in it’s anti-submarine role

Slow speed, insufficient armament, insufficient armour

The war was to claim the lives of two of the three survivors. Sgt Hazeldine was listed as ‘presumed dead’ on 26 January, 1942 during operations. Sgt

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We would like to thank Andrew Totty (now Taylor), and Ian Harley, who spent much time and effort in researching and compiling this information over the years. It is due to their efforts that this story can be told so concisely.

Whitley bomb release mechanism recovered from the crash site.

‘Upon that fateful morn’

n 22 March 1853, the first sod at the new Lundhill (also spelt Lund Hill) Colliery was formerly cut by the proprietors, William Taylor of Redbrook, Barnsley and Mr Greaves of Manchester, at Hemingfield.

An Easter supper was then held for the workers, at the Three , Wombwell. Also present was the local landowner, Mr Swift, whose toast of ‘Success to Lundhill Colliery’ was greeted by a round of applause. But success never really came to Lundhill Colliery. Even before the pit was fully operational, just 13

months after sinking began, an explosion occurred, resulting in the deaths of six men.

Although the pit’s owners escaped reprimand, there were some very telling comments against their attitude and actions from Charles Morton, HM Inspector of Mines. It took a further eight months, until 14 April 1855, before the first coal was extracted. Then, within two years, on a cold February morning in 1857, Lundhill fired again and became the scene of one of the worst tragedies in British mining history.

In 1857 Lundhill Colliery was one of the largest and deepest pits in Yorkshire. There were three shafts. Number 1, the water pumping and downcast, was the shallowest, at 77 yards (and 10ft diameter), sunk to the Abdy seam; number 2, used as a downcast and for coal- drawing, was 217 yards deep (11ft 4 inch diameter); and number 3, the upcast or furnace shaft, was 214 yards deep (9ft 3 inch diameter).

The deep downcast shaft provided access to the principal coal of the district – the famous Barnsley seam. Workings were extensive, extending several hundred yards from the pit bottom.

On the morning of the disaster there were about 220 men and boys at work underground. According to local press reports,

22 of the day-workers from Lundhill Row fortuitously ascended one of the shafts (probably No.2) at mid-day so that they could have some dinner at home.

The rest of the shift stayed put, consuming their ‘snap’ as usual, in workings away from the pit bottom. The men underground had barely finished their meal when, at about 12.30 (some reports say 12.20) there was what the Illustrated London News described as ‘a fearful explosion’, (and the official report as ‘an astounding and fearful explosion’) so large that it ‘shook the ground for a great distance around.’

The blast was so violent that the cage that normally carried the corves or tubs of coal was blasted up the deep drawing shaft and into the wooden headgearing over the pit mouth, its rope and chain tangling with the pulley wheels. When this happened after explosions there was always a delay before equipment could be re-used or an alternative system could be set up for a brave descent of the shaft, providing of course it was deemed ‘safe’ to do so. At the same time, from the top of the furnace shaft ‘...a prodigious amount of dust,

DISASTERS

The Lundhill Colliery Disaster of 1857 was the worst of its time. On the 150th anniversary, Brian Elliott uncovers the tragic story

On the morning of the disaster there were about 220 men and boys at work underground...

smoke, and flame arose to a considerable height, accompanied by a large report..’ [official report].

After reporting that the pit was on fire underground, therefore cutting off any attempt to reach the trapped men, the Illustrated London News referred to ‘... flames ascending the air shaft..’ , reaching skywards ‘more than 20 yards above the top’ and ‘illuminating the country for a distance around.’

A group of men, including Joseph Coe, William Porter Maddison, Robert Charles Webster, John Warhurst, William Beevors and William Utley descended the drawing shaft, finding twenty ‘scorched and injured’ survivors. They were successfully extracted from the pit and the underground search continued. This dangerous task was described by Charles Morton, in his official report:

‘The most dreadful havoc had been and still was going on around them; the dead bodies of men and horses lay among confused heaps of overturned corves, shattered doors, broken timber, and fallen roof stone; the furnace and its arches were in ruins; the solid coal in... the upcast shaft had ignited;

burning masses of coal were tumbling down the sides, and the fire was raging fiercely and spreading rapidly; the stables were in flames, and combustible gas showed itself in the safety lamps within a short distance...Smoke and after-damp were very strong in some parts, and the firedamp

prevailed in every boardgate.’ When the search and rescue party returned to the surface, at seventhirty in the evening, ‘a column of flames 100 feet high rushed furiously from the furnace pit’ and, with ‘blazing embers and sparks’ rising even higher, shedding ‘a lurid glare on the sorrowful and despairing countenances of

Relatives rushing to the scene of the explosion. The miners’ cottages of Lundhill Row are in the background.

Map showing the site of the Lundhill colliery shafts (circled), and Lundhill Row.

Lundhill Row, now demolished, housed the small community originally established to serve Lundhill colliery. Only the Lundhill Tavern (now The Tavern) – which can be seen to the left of the houses – remains.

Lundhill Tavern in the late 1960s. The building has now lost its 'Lundhill' name.

an immense assembly of men, women and children’.

It was a timely escape for the explorers. The Sheffield Fire Brigade arrived but extinguishing the blaze was hopeless. Local pit managers who had come to Lundhill to offer assistance met with the colliery managers and a decision was made to cap the two downcast shafts.

When this was achieved, using planks and clay, the flames at the top subsided and stopped, though thick smoke continued to come from the furnace shaft which was left open.

On the morning after the disaster Charles Morton, HM Inspector of Mines, had a meeting with two experienced mining engineers, J T Woodhouse of Derby and Henry Holt of Wakefield – as well as with the Lundhill engineers. A plan was devised and approved by Nicholas Wood and George Elliott, two consulting engineers who had

arrived from Durham. All four eminent engineers were given the responsibility of directing the opening up the mine and the recovery of the bodies, assisted by a local group of engineers.

The mouth of the furnace pit was closed, apart from an 8-inch aperture which allowed gas to escape. The use of water was the main tactic employed to extinguish the fires, a local stream being diverted into the workings for this purpose. Careful records were kept of the gradually decreasing temperature in all the shafts. It took a month for the mine to be flooded and then drained, great care being taken with regard to the use of safety lamps due to the everpresent danger of gas emission.

Two ventilation fans, loaned by Earl Fitzwilliam, were fixed above the upcast shaft, powered by steam from the colliery boilers.

The voyeuristic part of human nature increasingly came to the

fore at major disasters when, through the developing railway system, hundreds, sometimes many thousands of people travelled to colliery towns. Pit disasters had become great public spectacles:

‘Every train today has brought a large number of excursionists, who, by their conduct, seemed bound to a fair or country fete rather than visitors to the scene of a frightful calamity. At two o’clock there were from ten to fifteen thousand persons on the spot; and few indeed were those who appeared to think they were standing immediately over the bodies nearly two-hundred men, hurried without a minute’s notice into eternity. In the dense crowd before them the loud laugh and jest were heard incessantly. A few more serious ones sang hymns.’

[ILN, 28 February 1857]

It was not until 17 April, almost two months after the explosion, that the grim task of recovering the bodies began. The process was described in the report as ‘nausious, arduous, an[d a] hazardous undertaking’. In order to combat the stench ‘neutralising

This dramatic image showing the pit 'firing' appeared in the Illustrated London News.

The Lundhill disaster attracted thousands of sightseers in the days following the tragedy, as you can see in this reconstruction of the scene.

and deodorizing compounds’ were liberally used and the men were given practical advice concerning the handling of the corpses from Mr Holland, the local Inspector of Burial Grounds. Six teams of twelve men were deployed, each man working a maximum of four hours, and each team containing two deputies and at least one assistant engineer.

Stephenson safety lamps were used. The men wore charcoal respirators, covering the mouth, and gloves. The dead colliers and horses found at the pit bottom were removed first. By 22 May over a 100 corpses had been recovered and ‘nearly the whole of the remainder’ had been dug out from roof falls and debris before the end of July. A few bodies may have been left undiscovered in the mine, ‘named’ by elimination. Early press reports describe the planned arrangements for the identification:

‘It is intended to erect a shed capacious enough to contain the whole number, and as the bodies are brought up, they will be placed in coffins, which are in the course of preparation, and deposited in this structure. To each of them will be attached a ticket, containing (if the deceased be identified) his name, otherwise a number according to the order in which it is brought up. Every effort has been made

by the proprietors to ascertain the names of all in the pit [ILN, 28 February 1857].’

The above report concluded that 182 ‘had perished’ but that ‘even this number will probably be increased upon subsequent inquiry.’ This statement was based on local information rather than actual bodies recovered.

The last body reported to be got out, on 16 July 1857, was that of Matthew Broadhead.

A graphic part of the official report summarises the extent of damage to both the mine and the miners:

‘Bulky balks of timber were broken; substantial brick arches and stoppings were prostated; thick pack walls and firmly fixed chocks

were knocked down; strong malleable iron rails were riven up and contorted; stout wooden door frames were split and iron door bands bent; doors, brattices, and corves were shivered to fragments; two human bodies were dismembered, and the pieces scattered over a space of forty yards; the heads or limbs of other corpses were were blown from the trunks; many were so dreadfully burnt and mutilated as to be unrecognisable; one man was found transfixed with the pick which he had been in the act of cutting coal; a second appeared to have been killed (as if by instantaneous shock) while drilling a hole; and

Rescuers descend the mine.

several were sitting at dinner... some of the unfortunate victims were neither burnt nor bruised, but seem to have expired quietly under the insidious and suffocating influence of after-damp.’

The inspector and engineers toured the underground workings in order to try and locate the seat of the explosion. It was concluded that the explosion began on the northern or northwestern side of the mine and that firedamp had accummulated after a roof fall, ‘but it was impossible to determine exactly in what place and by what means the gas was first ignited. However, candles, ‘with their tallow melted off’ were found in the back boardgate and several slits.

Coroner Badger had presided over many mine accident and disaster inquests but his task

at Lundhill was immense. The proceedings took three months to conclude, including 11 days of testimony involving 60 witnesses.

William Corbridge (a deputy who had been employed at Lundhill for three years) said: ‘When the explosion happened, I and five others were getting dinner, near to the pit drawing bottom. I descended the pit on Thursday morning, about four o’ clock; went with a Davy-lamp, and examined the broadgates and banks on the south side, and found the places safe. I also examined the goafs [waste areas] and found no gas in them.’ Corbridge confirmed that all was safe in both the north and south side of the mine. He also said that though Davy-lamps were used ‘where necessary’, candles with ‘naked lights’ were also in general use. The furnace was ‘well-attended to’ but the packwall builders who ‘ought regularly to have used safety lamps’ appeared to have been in the habit of unscrewing the gauzes, but admitted that he did not lock them according to Special Rule 1.

Abraham Levitt, a packer,

150th Anniversary Commemoration

Aspecial event to mark the 150th anniversary of the Lundhill pit disaster took place at Hillies Golf Course, near Wombwell, on 19 February last

month, when a magnificent mining monument was unveiled by the Mayor of Barnsley, Councillor Margaret Hodge. Local school children and Dodworth Brass Band contributed to a very moving occasion. Several direct descendants of disaster victims were in attendance. Earlier, the church bells of St Mary's were rung 189 times in respectful tribute to each of the men and boys killed. The monument was commissioned by Wombwell Heritage Group following a successful funding bid from the Lottery Heritage Fund and Nationwide Building Society. It is the work of Doncaster sculptor Michael Johnson who, as an integral part of the project, consulted with local schools and community members. The new monument can be seen in front of the clubhouse,

who was sitting in a cabin at the pit bottom when the explosion occurred, said that he ‘worked with a candle, but at times used a safety lamp’. Levitt was of the opinion that the oil ‘was so bad we could not make the lamps burn’, confirming that the gauzes were ‘rarely locked’ and ‘sometimes we screwed them off’. He admitted that the packers were disobeying rules and thought that the explosion was ‘caused by a fall of roof’.

Most of the miners questioned who had come out of the pit early in the morning of 19 February after completing their night shift spoke about the widespread use of candles. John Robinson even spoke about there being ‘too much air which wasted the candles’ and considered the pit ‘as safe as I had seen it’ during his night shift. William Hubbershaw was working 200 yards from the drawing shaft when the explosion occurred: ‘Three persons were with me; one ran away, and he perished; but the other two came out with me. We remained in our place for several hours, and the air was so hot I thought we could not survive: we laid

overlooking the site of the old mine. A capped shaft remains in situ on the lower part of the golf course, near Lundhill Row, the now lost little community from where miners as young as ten years old walked to their death on a grim February morning in 1857. On Sunday, the day before the annivesary,

The grim task of the recovery of the bodies, as portrayed in the Illustrated Times

The new Lundhill Mining Disaster Memorial, Hillies Golf Course, overlooking the site of the colliery. ‘Our portraits’ of children as miners are featured on the edges.

Brian Elliott at the new memorial, with two young descendants of one of the Lundhill mine disaster victims.

still, and then taking hold of one another, we made the best way to the pit bottom, where we found several persons alive, having passed over two or three dead bodies: my senses left me, and I do not remember who brought me up the shaft.’

Hubbershaw also mentioned that the packers, despite any deputy’s instructions, used naked lights near the goafs (waste areas).

Joseph Coe, the resident viewer at Lundhill, had this to say about the use of naked lights: ‘Prior to the explosion, I considered it quite safe to work the Lundhill colliery with naked lights; but I should now recommend that every mine in the Barnsley district should be worked exclusively with safety lamps. As regards the system of working coal generally in this neighbourhood, I will venture to say (from my own experience in the North of England, in Staffordshire, and in Yorkshire) that the Barnsley mode of getting coal is the most wretched and the most dangerous that I know.’

The verdict of the jury was as follows:

‘That the deceased were killed by an explosion of carburetted hydrogen gas in Lundhill colliery, on the 19th February 1857; but there is no conclusive or sufficient evidence to show the immediate cause of the explosion. Therefore, the jury cannot come to the decision that it was criminal neglect, but accidental. They, however, must condemn the laxity of discipline, and the nonobservance of the special rules. The jury do not attach blame to the proprietors of the colliery, who were not cognizant of the loose discipline and misconduct of the under-viewer, deputies, and workmen.’

Furthermore, the jury reiterated the importance of working with safety lamps as well as other safety improvements suggested by the engineers; and the ‘heroic conduct’ of those men who recovered the bodies. Finally, ‘deep sympathy’ was expressed to all the bereaved in this ‘most disastrous accident’.

At the time, Lundhill was the worst disaster in British coal mining history, leaving

a Civic Service was held in St Mary’s, following a week’s exhibition in the same building. The formerly soot-black and vandalised obelisk in Darfield churchyard, commemorating the 189 men and boys killed in the pit has also been restored. Although

Wombwell schoolchildren at the new Lundhill Mining Disaster Memorial, Hillies Golf Course, 19 February 2007. Work with local children was a crucial part of the project.

90 widows and 220 orphaned children. Just over half of the women had remarried by March 1860. The Lundhill Relief Fund realised £10, 676, the Lundhill Coal Company donating £500.

Even after catastrophic disasters it was rare for pits not to function in some form or other. Lundhill not only reopened but became something of a show pit for London visitors, operating until the late 1880s when its then owners, the Wombwell Main Coal Company, began winding Lundhill coal from Wombwell Main.

When Lundhill’s last manager, William Gray, took charge at Wombwell Main any historic link with Lundhill ended in 1969 when Wombwell Main closed.

by no means forgotten, the Lundhill tragedy has perhaps been overshadowed by other neighbouring disasters such as those at the Huskar Pit (1838) and Oaks Colliery (1866). Yet, at the time, Lundhill was Britain’s worst colliery disaster, capturing the attention of the Victorian popular press more than any other previous coal mining event.

Funeral card of George Nortcliff, aged 15, whose body was recovered on 19 June, four months after the disaster.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

All illustrations used here are from the author’s own collection, unless otherwise stated. For more background details and list of casualties for Lundhill, see Brian Elliott’s book, South Yorkshire Mining Disasters, Wharncliffe Books, 2006; and John Threlkeld’s Pits. A Pictorial History of Mining, Wharncliffe Books 2003. Many thanks to Wombwell Heritage Group

Cannon Hall Museum (Barnsley MBC)

Courtesy of Cannon Hall Museum/Barnsley

MBC.

The Lundhill Memorial after recent restoration, with inscription (inset).

Capped shaft of Lundhill Colliery, Hillies Golf Course, near Wombwell.

theCutting cloth

to produce the best results, but what was essential to the process was that unpolluted water had to

This criteria, therefore, deemed that the location of bleach works had to be near springs and rivers

which were used for the steeping and washing process. It was also considered an advantage that the bleach works were situated out of town and away from other

works throughout the area, as well as on hand looms in weavers' cottages.

Linen manufacturing was, in fact, so successful it played a major role in the town's increase in population in the early part of the 19th century.

Bleach works, which dealt with the removal of browncoloured matter from the linen fibres, were set up in many areas of the town including Swithen (Dearneside), Old Mill, Hoyle Mill, Cudworth, Stairfoot, Rob Royd, Ardsley, Greenfoot and Redbrook.

Numerous chemical procedures were tried and tested

For over two hundred years linen manufacturing played an important part in Barnsley life. No doubt many today had Kath Parkin takes a brief look at textiles in the Barnsley area.

Barnsley's linen industry and bleaching works went into decline in the latter part of the 19th century...

industrial sites where the air was cleaner.

Barnsley's linen industry and bleaching works went into decline in the latter part of

the 19th century due to strong competition from Scotland and Ireland.

Only five bleaching grounds remained operational at this time; Greenfoot, Old Mill, Redbrook, Cudworth and Swithen. Thirty years later only two remained, one of which was Redbrook.

The Redbrook mill, once a busy, noisy place of work mostly for local women was the last mill in the Barnsley area to be operational. Hickson, Lloyd and King, which had taken over the Redbrook site in 1937, closed its mill in 1957, bringing to an end linen manufacturing in the town which had lasted for well over 200 years.

The buildings were put to a variety of new uses, but in recent years they have been demolished.

The history of the Redbrook bleach works goes back as far as the 1790s. It is said that a century later, tea towels which had been manufactured there were used

in Royal households during the reign of Queen Victoria.

The site was in a hollow and had a good supply of water from a nearby brook, and water was collected from a series of five ponds along the brook and its tributary.

Hand-loom weavers, however, continued to work from home in tiny cottages, many of which had been rented from their employers. Evidence of this cottage industry can be seen to this day in what remains of the old cottages with their low windows, designed to afford the home weavers with as much light as possible.

The firm of Thomas Taylor and Sons in Peel Street operated the largest linen factory in the town and employed hundreds of workers, both male and female.

One can imagine the noise the looms made when they were fully operational. But, even though the work was hard and the hour were long with poor financial reward, the workers enjoyed the camaraderie that existed between them.

Employees of Thomas Taylor & Sons, the largest linen factory in Barnsley, before its closure. Third from the left (seated) is Minnie Boothroyd (nee Barton). She lived in Summer Street, Barnsley.

The inside of the now demolished Redbrook Mill. The women were making Irish linen tea towels when the photograph was taken.

Picturesque view of St John's, Royston village's church and the churchyard. Built in the fifteenth century, the view has changed very little over several centuries, though the churchyard itself has undergone a number of alterations, noticeable in the lack of gravestones in the modern image.

This photograph shows the end of Midland Road and the Monckton area, with the old steam railway line in the background. The railway bridge can still be seen in the modern shot, though the area on the right hand side has since become a housing development.

A different view of Midland Road, this time looking up from the railway bridge. The back section of the rather interesting-looking building on the left hand side has now been demolished, but notice the beautiful oldfashioned streetlight in front of it.

The Cross Inn in Summer Lane. The public house retains the same name but the buildings do not have the same character as they have in the early photograph. This image is dated by the people in the foreground, and the old Ford car behind them.

Old photographs courtesy of Chris and Pearl Sharp.

The images above show the buildings of Midland Road, the main shopping street through the village, from different angles. If we compare the bicycles in the two old images with the motorbike which is visible behind the crash railing in today's photograph, the social changes which have taken place over the years are highlighted. In the absence of road markings the road appears to be much wider and quieter than it does today.

(Bottom) An early image of The Wells crossroads taken from High Street looking towards Midland Road. The scene is still easily recognizable today, to the left of the crossroads (out of shot) is now a supermarket. What is interesting is the large number of children included by the photographer, and notice the daredevil above the Andrews sign! The old signpost to the left of the picture is very different to the ones we see on today's roads.

Readers page Readers page

Down the market

Inow live in South Wales but I was born in 1951 in Barnsley and spent all my childhood there. I remember a lot of what you had written about in the magazine, and it brought other memories back to me about Barnsley.

As a child I used to shop with my mother in Barnsley's May Day Green (the market). My favourite time of shopping was our weekly visit to the pie and pea bus which stood in the market. The bus had been changed inside, instead of rows of seats there were tables and some of the bus seats were left to sit on. My mother used to order our lunch –pork pie and mushy peas in a dish, and of course a mug of strong tea. I think the owners of the of the pie and pea bus were the Oldfield family. The bus was parked up in the Gas Nook and opened up most days but always on market days. Just a little way up from the pie and pea bus was the fish and chip shop. I can't remember the name of it but have fond memories of going in there, and if we were lucky enough to get a seat we were served chips, soaked in vinegar, on a saucer – not a plate – I can almost taste them now!

We would go for a look around the market, the first call would be on Gordon Denton's second hand market to

search for bargains. Afterwards we would walk around and listen to the stall holders shouting their wares. The voice that I still hear was the stall holder named Jimmy or Joe Edwards. He used to throw plates, cups and saucers trying to get a price. Crowds would gather around to listen to him, I don't think anything ever got broken!

The yearly fair would come to town on Barnsley Feast. This would take up the space where the market stalls used to stand, but stall holders would still manage to put temporary stalls up. The best part was the donkey rides up and down the Gas Nook.

In the Spring issue we featured a photograph in Darton (above) and asked readers to help us to find a 'now' shot.

Thank

People would come from miles around to the weekly market. I think the market days are still the same now as they were then? The stalls were all across town, even up Market Hill going towards the Town Hall. At the very top of the hill, nearest to the Town Hall was the meat van, I think it was called Medlam's, we thought it was a posh meat seller as they sold all sorts of different meats. I used to go on the meat van with my mother and look at all the poultry hanging up, thinking that the birds would move anytime!

Barnsley is not the town that I remember anymore, but I was trying to explain to my daughter where all these places were which have now gone. I will always have memories of Barnsley and I am glad that I can tell you about some of them.

Photo identified

Susan Jones (nee Dewsnap)

Barnsley Market photographed in 1969.

you to Keith Beechill, Richard Watson and Steve Roe who all took the trouble to send in photographs, and for pointing out that the original photograph is labeled wrongly and is actually of Sackup Lane and not Bloomhouse Lane - no wonder we struggled! The photograph (right) is a modern shot of Sackup Lane, taken by Steve Roe.

In response to our first issue, many have written in with their own memories of life in Barnsley. This will be a regular feature in coming issues; so if you have pictures or memories you would like to share with us, please write to:

Rebecca Lawther, Editor, The Drill Hall, Eastgate, Barnsley S70 2EU or email: editor@whmagazines.co.uk

Lasting memories

Elizabeth Morcombe

Although I have been left Barnsley for nearly 50 years I have some clear abiding memories. I loved the Theatre Royal – it was a real form of escapism from a rather dull post-war childhood. I have a photocopy of the billposter from the week that the War ended. A very young Ronnie Ronalde was appearing that week and my father used to tell us how he was introduced to him in Peel Square the night of May 8th. My father (who never praised anyone) said to him 'Tha good lad, but don't get thee 'ead swelled.' I often wonder if Ronnie remembers that. Fretwell's gave everyone free fish and chips that night.

My schooldays are forever etched in my memory. I went to Agnes Road Junior School, and the High School later. I'm sure some of the teachers must have been ex members of the SS – they were very humourless and could be quite cruel; but I suppose that was the way in those days. How different things are today.

Another very happy memory is scraping together enough money to pay a fortnightly visit to Wood's riding school at Keresforth Hall – I lived for those visits! And does anyone remember Peggy Harrison's school of dancing? Miss Harrison was a real tarter but an excellent teacher.

Another is getting immunised at the Town Hall and the doctor saying I was the first person he'd ever had to get on the floor to! Then my tonsil operation being postponed twice because the hospital, St Helen's, had first an outbreak of measles and then it was full of wounded soldiers! Happy days on the whole.

A wonderful school

Myna Taylor (nee Banks)

Ihave just received a copy of your new Memories of Barnsley magazine. Congratulations to all concerned in its production, I was so interested in the article about Charlie Williams, who came to live at South Hiendly, my native village. We went to the old Church school across the common land, then later to the new school further up the village.

In 1937 the new Secondary Modern School was opened to serve Ryhill and other villages. What a wonderful school it was, with many excellent teachers; Mr Don Gordon was another who seemed able to get the best results from his pupils, as well as all the others mentioned (in the article). I have often wished to say a thank you to them all, for I have been so grateful for the tuition which helped me through the years.

I came to Herefordshire in 1944 as Women's Land Army and later married and have lived here for the last 60 years. I have of course visited Yorkshire and called at my old school which has since been renamed Felkirk. The headmaster gave me a tour, and said he hoped some of his students would call after over 30 years to see the school. I still remember so many friends in Yorkshire, it is still Home, after all these years.

After Brian Elliott’s article on the Theatre Royal in our Spring issue, Mr Clarkson kindly brought us this poster which he found in his attic dating from 1939. It was printed by the Barnsley Chronicle which had a commercial printing department along with the newspaper.

Butterfields models

Mrs

C Carr

Butterfields was a very ‘up market’ store in its day. Mr Gasson was the manager when I worked there, in the 1950s. I started in ‘fancy goods’, then moved onto the shoe department, and then the clothes and gown department.

Having been asked to model some of the clothes for a fashion show, I was quite flattered to be chosen to be the ‘bride’.

I remember once a young man coming from the Barnsley , and choosing a couple of us girls to have a

The caption that appeared in the 31 March issue of the Barnsley Chronicle, 1956 for the photo below: ‘When storm clouds threatened and these pretty girls abandoned their walk in favour of “thumbing a lift” there was a surprise in store when the motorist to the rescue was popular comedian Dave Morris. Dave is appearing at the Theatre Royal this week with his original gang in “Club Night.”

Mannequins of Butterfields, staff make a pretty picture as bride and attendants in the store’s Spring Fashion Parade.

publicity photograph taken with Dave Morris, who was appearing at the Theatre Royal that week with his ‘Crazy Gang’.

Shopping in Barnsley in those days was very different from today, with a much more deferential approach to customers.

High school for Girls – 1924

Mr D Morland

My brother has brought Memories of Barnsley for me to read and I wonder if you might be interested in this photograph which we found in a book that we bought several years ago at the Penzance Auction House. There must be a story in there somewhere.

Changed scene

Les Nixon

Iwas delighted, just before Christmas, to receive a copy of your first issue of Memories of Barnsley. As one who was born and bred in the town in my formative years (the 1940s and 1950s) it evoked very pleasant memories.

In this respect I have a few treasured photographs of the area from that time and I wonder whether they might be of interest to you. In this regard I enclose a rather interesting picture taken in 1957 from Platts Common looking over towards Wentworth Castle with Barrow Coking Plant and colliery prominent in the foreground. It is a very different scene today! I wonder how many miners walked across that bridge over the railway in the foreground.

Printed on the frame of the picture are the words 'High School for Girls, Barnsley. Form VI Student Teachers 1924'. Can any readers help us to identify any of the ladies in the photograph, or supply any information about it?

Above: View from Platts Common overlooking Barrow Coking Plant in 1957. Right: the same view 50 years later.

Carolyn Mills

The seat of power

Miners’ Association. A flag floated from the tower of the building and banners were displayed at and the Coach and , where the guests at the opening ceremony dined.

coined by a Fleet Street journalist in the 1970s.

Others gazed at the offices in Huddersfield Road and used terms such as architecturally eccentric, elegant and even grandiose.

In the 1980s, during which the NUM appeared to be a growing threat to the nation, and miners were perceived by many as class warriors, more profane labels were mentioned in middle class homes.

The offices stand at the corner of Huddersfield Road and Victoria Road and were opened in November, 1874, by the South Yorkshire and North Derbyshire

There were more than 100 miners’ delegates present at the opening. It was presided over by John Normansell, general secretary of the association, who had been the first miner to be elected to a local authority –Barnsley Council.

He said there had been unusual scenes a few weeks earlier when miners, whose union subscriptions had paid for the building, arrived and peered at the stonework: “That stone is mine,” said one. Another pointed to a wall: “That belongs to me.” But no one touched the building.

The union was on top of the industrial world and wealthy at the time of the opening ceremony – but it did have humble beginnings.

It was formed in the Old White Bear Inn in Shambles Street in 1858. For a time the organisation was housed in Mr Normansell’s home in Nelson Street; however more space was needed.

During that period union

council meetings were held at The Prince of Wales at Wombwell. This former pastoral village was quickly becoming a mining

The National Union of Mineworkers’ headquarters, in Huddersfield Road, was the focus of the nation’s media during John Threlkeld takes a look at the building and the union’s humble beginnings

The union was on top of the industrial world and wealthy at the time of the opening ceremony...

John Normansell, South Yorkshire Miners’ Secretary, 1864-1875. He played a leading role in the decision to build the miners’ headquarters. He died aged 45.

pits on its doorstep, and that’s why the meetings were held there.

But the pub became too small and the venue was switched to The Temperance Hall in Barnsley. It was a sign the union was expanding and it was time to have large purpose-built offices.

Until the 1870s unions did not have a good reputation. The middle classes saw them as revolutionary and as a destabilising force in the country, even some miners were disinclined to join because they had a stubborn and independent streak in them.

The men behind the designs did not want the offices to look too futuristic or bold in case it frightened the populous, nor too stolid or dull on the grounds the union was going places.

The union was now respectable but still youthful and

demanded attention: an ornate and ostentatious appearance to the building served that purpose. But the design did not go over the top.

Compare the offices to the other buildings in the town centre, such as the commercial buildings and banks at the bottom of Market Hill – fewer frills and adornments there, no need to capture the attention of the public.

In a way, the union was ahead of its time. The premises were constructed during a period when a miner could earn a pound a day, blue chip earnings in those days.

By the mid 1870s the coal boom was over and miners, pit owners and the union were on their knees. But boom always follows a slump and within a few years the union was expanding

again.

In the 20th century it became the powerful home of a number of prominent Yorkshire miners’ leaders, including Herbert Smith, the president from 1906 to 1938, who was one of the toughest leaders of all time. He was elected national president in 1922.

He was a formidable but

Herbert Smith, Miners’ President, 19061938. He died at his desk in the miners’ offices, in 1938.

National Union of Mineworkers’ headquarters photographed around 1900.

humorous character, a man of few words, a man suspicious of education. “Books do not butter parsnips,” he said.

During a meeting with the government ministers during the troubled 1920s he rose to his feet, removed his false teeth and wiped them with his hankie.

“Nowt doing,” he declared and sat down. It bamboozled the opposition and there was no compromise with the government on that day.

On another occasion he went to 10, Downing Street. “Can I take your cap?” asked a member of staff.

“No,” replied ‘Arh Herb’, as he was known, “I have lost caps like that before.”

Joe Hall, from Wombwell, was Yorkshire president from 1938 to 1952. He was an orator of exceptional ability who could mesmerise large gatherings of miners. Miners were still overawed by his reputation years

after his death.

Arthur Scargill, of course, became just about the most famous, or infamous, person in the country in the 1970s and 1980s, another silver tongued orator whose mind is as sharp and as deadly as a rapier. Behind the public facade he has all the gifts of a showman and comedian.

At miners’ galas the audiences loved the speeches in which he dished out to the media and politicians the same kind of

verbal abuse he believed the miners had to absorb from the establishment.

The NUM still occupies the premises but the union is a mere shadow of its former self. In 1913 there were nearly one million mineworkers in the country; in the 1960s there were 70,000 miners in the county.

Today official figures are not available but the national membership is thought to be several thousand.

Joe Arthur Hall, Yorkshire President, 1938-1952.

Arthur Scargill, National President, 1981-2000.

The Old White Bear Inn, on Shambles Street where the library now stands. This was where the union was formed, 5 April, 1858. The photograph also shows the Royal Hotel in the background.

They’re off!

Two years ago this month Alan Beck, Wombwell's showman of the streets, died at the age of 64. John looks back on his eventful life.

on the dole. His horse races were far from depressing, too.

Others think of Alan Beck... and smile. He was a wonderful teller

"They’re off..." his madcap Grand National commentary in the club or pub was farcical. He took over the role of a BBC-type commentator and created an imaginary race in his mind that he 'broadcast' to the customers in the pub or club. The names of genuine characters in the town became the jockeys and horses.

but one of his yarns could enliven an otherwise dank evening in The Alma in the 1970s.

For instance, his son, George, said he was the only goalkeeper in Wombwell who had played in a suit. On Sundays he wore his best suit and on one occasion while crossing the local rec on his way to the pub one of the teams beckoned him over.

"We are short of a goalie."

"Right", said Alan, and went between the posts without taking off his jacket. On another occasion, his first wife went to the dole office as Alan was walking out. The bewildered clerk did not recognise Mrs Beck and said: “You know, I can't get on with that man." She replied:"

I have been married to him for 20 years and neither can I."

He always brought elements of the music hall to doleful life

His commentary set off at a canter but the tempo and excitement increased as the 'horses' stormed towards the finishing line. I once witnessed a similar 'race' at the Chinese takeaway in Knollbeck Lane, Brampton.

Late one evening in the early 1980s Alan, or Algie as we knew him, strolled in: there was a sharp intake of breath and at breakneck speed he reeled off without repetition, hesitation or deviation the long menu on the wall (plus the prices and ingredients).

It was in the gushing style of a racing commentator on television.

"They’re off...." His brain went into immediate overdrive and turned the chop suey and other oriental delights into horses that whizzed around the course – and around his mind – as if they had had a Vindaloo! His eyes glazed over and his voice developed a cut glass accent: "With two furlongs to go No 24, sweet and sour chicken with rice or chips at 75p, is behind beef curry and boiled rice; pancake roll, priced at 20p and the favourite at 3-1, fell and rolled over at the first fence, and special fried rice with bamboo shoots and beansprouts is up there with Hong Kong-style

fried duck which has just quacked up..." And so on...

It was a monumental feat of mental elasticity on his part but one which flummoxed the owner of the shop who had not encountered a man from another planet before. The race got faster and faster so that his words and the names of the horses merged into a numbing stream of raucous and excitable babble at the finishing post. Who won? Who cares!

His language in public could be horrendous, and it was not just the Woodbines and ancient pipe smoke that turned the air blue in the old taprooms.

But his legacy was that he made many people laugh. It was straight off the street corner humour, raw and unpredictable, which Alan, the town clown, embellished with impeccable showmanship.

His pals knew him as Beck, others as Becky or Algie. His grandchildren preferred Grandad Pikelet. But I think he preferred my tag – MR Beck.

"I like that," he said. And smiled.

PERSONALITIES

Alan Beck, pictured in his pomp, aged 31. He had just broken a bone in his foot in an It's a Knock Out competition.

One of his yarns could enliven an otherwise dank evening in The Alma in the 1970s...

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