This page will contain further stories that have been received . Again your story can go in this section.
Contained below are memories from:
| Joe Harford | Kevin Rushe |
| Lawrence Shields | Daniel Madden |
| Mary Divine | Tony Dryhurst |
| John Tocker | The Authors Tale |
Joe Harford.
Joseph Harford Born -: 23.03.34
What did you do during the war (Granddad) ?I was born at 215, Nechells Park Road. It was a street lined with trees, every house had the original railings on the front gardens. My first recollection of WW II was,
" Mom some men are pinchin our railings". It was one of my elder sisters, and to our amazement they were cutting down the railings and loading them onto a lorry. After a heated argument with mother they told her the railings were needed to make bombs for the war. I often wondered where our railings landed in Germany.
For a few months nothing happened, it was when they gave us gas masks to wear and the first air raid warnings were sounded we knew we were. This happened one day at school, and we were taken to a brick air raid shelter in the playground. It had no lights but for one paraffin hurricane lamp which filled the shelter with smoke. It was long and very narrow and they got as many as they could inside. For some of us it was quite frightening.
The school was St Josephs in Long Acre, Nechells. I have been back but all that is left is the floor of the shelter. I will never know how they got so many of us in to it.
Within months the bombing started. Living down the bottom of our road was bad because quite near was a Gas Works, Electricity Station, a Tar Distiller and munitions works etc. so the enemy had easy targets and our houses were right in the middle.
We had to go to the shelter in Eliot Street if the air raids were at night. These shelters were quite big with bunk beds for the mothers and children. When there was a big air raid the place used to shudder with the bombs dropping and the anti-air craft guns firing. We spent Christmas of 1939 down the shelter but we still had Santa with his big sack and a dip for all the children. I think the last straw came when a massive bomb fell in between Argyle Street and Wharton Street - that was close! One of our school chums, a girl called Gloria Loveday, was killed that night, she went into a pals garden shelter during the raid and it took a direct hit.
The Brierley family were closer they lived in Wharton Street. There was Mr & Mrs B, Sheila, Paddy & Molly. I’m still in contact with them - to date - Mr & Mrs B passed on a few years ago
In a war everybody did their bit, the young men and women went to fight, the older ones stayed here to do all sorts of jobs to help the ones away fighting.
A whole book could be written about such things; from the two men who climbed on to the gas-ometer to kick incendiary bombs off to prevent a massive explosion, to people riding bicycles and even walking to Coventry the night they had a terrible air raid.
Young boys used their cycles to carry messages during the air raids because the telephone wires had been broken. Yes and even us young ones after an air raid would collect the bits of bombs (shrapnel) or any metal we could find to be melted down to make any ammunition. So everybody did his or her bit to help.
As the bombing got worse they decided to evacuate young children and mothers with babies.
I had two older brothers who joined the army. Both came back safe. One sister who worked in a factory and of course, my Dad.
Mother was sent with my two younger sisters to Gloucester, I was sent with my brother to Hartshorn Nr. Burton on Trent. My two older sisters went to Smisby, which was about three miles from us. If you haven't worked it out there were nine children in the family.
The reason for the first part of this story is to answer the question 'why were children evacuated?'
So the second part begins the day we were taken to school with our little brown cases, our gas masks and a packet of sandwiches -also tied to our coats was a luggage label with our name and address written on. Now this may seem strange but there were children screaming the place down, they did not want to go, others were just sad and there was my brother and I, we could not get on that Midland Red bus fast enough. We hadn't got on to the Lichfield Road when the sandwiches were out.
It was a sunny day and I don't think I had seen so much countryside all at once. They dropped some children of at Smisby including my two sisters and then on to Hartshorn. This part was so strange to us because all the people who had volunteered to have the children were waiting outside the village school.
We got off the bus and stood on the pavement whilst they chose the ones they wanted. I think you can guess what happened. All the girls got chosen first, then the boys, then, the people who had children of their own had problems because they didn't like the look of the ones that were going to live with them so there were a few swaps taking place.
Eventually everybody got sorted out but for the two brothers who stood on the pavement alone. They had agreed to keep us together and nobody wanted two boys. The teachers took to asking passers by if they would have us but no luck. You may wonder how I can remember these events -all will be revealed towards the end.
Back to these two boys, who should come walking down the road but Mrs Fish, not realising that within the next few yards or meters she would be the proud stepmother of two little angels.
The teachers must have done a wonderful job to get her to take us. It gets worse! (for Mrs. Fish) Mrs. Fish owned the local farm with her husband.
Now, to two small town boys this was our wildest dream come true. Most of the heavy work was done with Shire and Clydesdale Horses. Gentle giants as they were called. The horses were the first things we saw as we walked into the farmyard. Then Mr. Fish was the next thing we encountered. 'What’s’ that you got there'! They went into conversation the contents of which at that point in time did not bother us. After a few minutes we were taken into the farmhouse and shown the room that we were to sleep in.
The first morning we woke up to a deserted house, nobody anywhere. After exploring every room we set about getting breakfast, well Tom my brother did the breakfast, all I can remember is burning and a very irate Mrs. Fish.
So the routine started. It seemed we would only just got into bed and before we knew it, it was morning and we were being hauled out again -it must have been 5.00 a.m. I should think this happened every morning. We were given odd jobs to do before going to school.
I think we got into a few scrapes -nothing serious. They had two farm hands that we had a lot of trouble with. On one occasion they caught us scrumping so they pinned us to the ground and dipped apples in a cowpat and popped them back in our pockets. Mrs. Fish was not a happy lady. The better times made up for all that.
The ride on top of a load of hay on a summer evening, was out of this world, or riding the horses back to the stables after work.
My favourite treat was going out on the milk float delivering to the people around the village. The milk was in a couple of milk churns, which, was then ladled out into their jugs. This life was better than the bombs back home -the one thing that I will always remember is the quietness of the countryside.
One day I went down the farmyard to explore one of the barns opening the door and peering into the gloom I had the feeling I was not alone. I was right -in the gloom was this animal -it wasn't a horse, it wasn't a cow -there was a broom leaning up against the wall so I thought I would give it prod to see if it was real -this was not a good idea of mine because all hell let loose. It was then that I found it was 150 ton bull! AND it was alive! My luck was still in because someone had tied the bull to the wall by the ring in his nose.
The roar he let out could be heard back home. This is where my luck ran out because as I beat a hasty retreat I crashed into one of the farmhands, who was on his way to find out what was wrong with the bull. My rear end shuddered once, I don't know whether it was a size nine or size ten boot but when the second one made contact I decided it was time I was not there.
Things got a bit worse, because when I looked back my brother Tom was on the back of the farmhand knocking seven bells out of his head.
So back outside the village school there were two small boys again!!, with suitcases and gas masks and a teacher stopping passers by asking if they could find room for us. Down the road walked Mrs. Spencer happily going to visit her mother who lived next door to the village pub, which was next to the school that had these two boys outside.
Mrs. Spencer didn't volunteer to board evacuees when it was first put to the village at the start of the war. So for her to walk into her mothers’ with these two urchins on tow, was to say the least, a shock for her mother. 'Will you be able to cope' said her mother. In Mrs. Spencer's own words which she told me years after' I saw these two poor lads and I thought, if I can take care of these perhaps my son Eric will return safe from the War. Yes, Eric did return safe!.
We went to live in Camp Lane, Hartshorn with Mrs. Spencer and her daughter Hilda. Mr. Spencer was a miner who worked at the local Swadlincote mine. Also he was the caretaker of the local Church so he always took me with him. One of the tasks was to stoke the boilers to warm the Church. This was my favourite. It was dead spooky down the cellar. I can't remember ever being unhappy in all the time I was there.
The beds were always fresh and clean and Mrs. Spencer was a wonderful cook, she baked all her own pies and apple and blackberry was my favourite.
The four seasons were so vivid, with Spring, with all the lambs being born, the Summer, with all that sunshine and hay making and harvest time in the Autumn and lastly Winter. Deep snow, frozen village ponds, skating and something never heard now and that is the humming of telephone wires, which was quite eerie.
I suppose if there was anything that we did not like, it was being set on by the local lads. In the end the school used to let us out early and it was a short cut across the fields, through the clapper gates and home.
We always had Christmas presents and Easter Eggs. Mr.. & Mrs. Spencer used to take us to 'Swad' (Swadlincote) and buy us clothes. which was not in their allowance that was paid to them for our board.
Mrs. Spencer was a cuddly sort of person always made you feel safe and Mr. Spencer was a bit of a stern man, but still wonderful.
A lot of children were very unhappy in their digs, one reason was because their fosters had got young children of their own and they did not get on with each other. Other fosters had not got their own children, so couldn't cope. Sadly others did it for the money.
Quite a lot returned home within weeks, very distressed. I suppose with us coming from a large family, the one to one scene we were now in, was too good to be true. My sisters who were at Smisby were never happy for what reason I don't know.
We had a setback when my brother Tom was 'transferred' to live with Mrs. Cox just a few doors up from us. Two main reasons being that, one he sleep walked. I think one night he was found outside the house -the second reason being, that Tom was a tough nut and wouldn't accept any bullying towards himself or me. I used to scoot at the first sign of bother but Tom would stand his ground and in Mrs. Spencer's words 'was always coming home with cuts and bruises' Mrs. Spencer was alarmed very easy, so it worried her that she was not looking after him.
Mrs. Cox was also a wonderful lady who looked after Tom and could cope.
One little prank of mine, was that one day on the way to school, there was a shop that sold bulls-eye sweets. I only had a farthing and asked for a farthings worth but was told the smallest amount was a halfpenny's worth. I was desperate for these bulls- eyes so on the way home I went in the shop and asked for halfpenny's worth, put my farthing on the counter and bolted. The trouble was I could never go back in the shop again, how that shop-lady must have laughed, she knew me!
They were happy days, so much so that one lad never went home. Maurice Hill still lives in the village, has a thriving business and a super house, his brother Kenny was in a road accident getting of the school bus. We didn't see Kenny for some time. One afternoon a knock came on the door and Mom and Dad had come to take us home. We had been there about 2 years, so I was not too happy to say the least. The War was on the wain but we still had air raids.
To come back to the devastation and danger was terrible. When I was old enough I went back to Hartshorn to visit those wonderful people. Through the years Mr. Spencer died and then Mrs. Spencer. I still visit Hilda and Eric, Christmas, who, though well advanced in years, still live in the village.
Some of the events might be out of sequence but I retain many happy memories and every year, as soon as I drive past Camp Lane, Fishes Farm, that shop, the Church, the pond and the pub, that spot outside the school, those memories come flooding back.
Dedicated to all the foster parents who opened their homes so that we can be here today.
A TRUE STORY REMEMBERED AS IF IT WAS YESTERDAY
More from Joe
A walking bus!
“We keep hearing this phrase as if it was a new practise. I can remember way back in 1940. It used to start at Cuckoo Bridge at Tom Powell’s, house then on to Cuckoo Road, Wharton Street, our house at the bottom of Nechells Park Road. If you felt lucky, we went up Nechells Park Road past the Convent. I say felt lucky because we had to get at the back of Sr. Margaret, because if you were in front of her, you could not walk with one foot in the gutter, carry a stick, kick a stone or play marbles etc.
At the school you had close encounters with “Maggie”.
But let me refer back to “the Bus” Tom Powell was like the Pied Piper. He always had a tale to tell and he could spin it out until we reached school, sometimes, the tale would have to be continued on the way back home, after school. He could “embroider” a story to perfection. On occasions, he would relay the story from a film and you could think to yourself “I saw that film and don’t remember that!”
Going back to Sister Margaret; someone wrote in an earlier Newsletter, that “no-one went back for second helpings” if Maggie had caned you. Well, I must have been a slow learner because I often came into contact with THAT cane! We were like oil and water and between her and “Killer Kilmartin” I learned to “dance” very well!
I wonder how many of you remember Maggie’s cane? We’ll just before Palm Sunday she had a branch of palm leaves and we made crucifixes from them. So, every Easter, she had a new cane, which throughout the year frayed at one end to become a “cat of 20 tails!” So, if you chose to step out of line, it was difficult to decide exactly when! Later in the year was probably better – she could not miss, but the pain was spread out a little!! In preparation she would roll-up her right sleeve, flick her veil behind her and take aim – OUCH!!!
One of Sister Margaret’s assets was her vision. She could identify you a quarter of a mile away! But she had a particular gait. She walked in such a fashion that the “wings” on her headdress flapped up and down. This became our early warning device and we ran away. I tried hard to stay out of trouble and one day during prayers, I thought “if I close my eyes and stand perfectly still, I cannot do anything wrong. At the end of prayers the dreaded sound “HARFORD TO THE FRONT” rang out. I wondered, what I had done; perhaps she thought that I had fallen asleep I was so still! But for once, I received a pat on the back for concentrating during prayers. I was, at last, in her good books. It didn’t last long however. One lunch time, Micky Jordan and I took a walk down Lichfield Road. On our way back, we stopped at a factory which made
shovels and became so interested, that we forgot about the time and were late back. For that I received “six of the best”. With the exception of “Killer” I got on well with the teachers.
Sister Margaret, Bless Her, kept us on our toes but I am sure that we are the better for it.
Joe Harford
More Joe Harford’s Memories.
BOG DOWN
EGYPT Suez Canal 1954
I was stationed at El Ballah, which is about a third of the way down the Canal. We were Royal Signals attached to 33 Para Royal Artillery (Gunners) we were a troop and socially we kept to ourselves.
We were in the NAAFI one evening and when it came to “throwing out time,” a gunner came over and whispered an invite to my mate Brummie Larvin and myself for a few drinks in his tent. We had to get rid of a few “hangers-on!” To do this, we went back to my tent with a few bottles and from then, things started to go wrong. The main guard burst into my tent (drinking in tents was not allowed) to inform us that the NAAFI had been broken into. As we knew the Guard Sergeant, he advised us to get rid of the bottles and get into bed. We decided to throw them down the “bog.” The “bog” was a netted structure with a pit about 12’ long and 3’ wide with a long box over it, the box having approximately 8 holes cut into it. The pit contained ammonia, which was pretty strong! We did not get away with it, as next morning we were on a fizzer. The SIB (CID) had been called in and we were ordered to produce the bottles to prove that the brand was not the same as that taken from the NAAFI! (Are you getting the drift?)
We took the box off the pit and could just see the necks of the bottles sticking up above the “you know what!” Now, who was going to be the lucky boy? We decided to draw straws, so put 6 strips of paper; one much shorter than the rest, into a book and each drew one. I was lucky but Brummie Larvin was not!! We fetched a ladder, a plank and a rope. We put the ladder down the pit, lowered the plank into the “you know what” and tied the rope around Brummie just in case he fell in, and down he went!
The fumes were so strong that he had to keep coming up for air. As he pulled the bottles out, the labels were sliding off, so he had to hold them on with one finger while he pulled them out. Luckily, they were not the brand of beer that the gunners had acquired. We didn’t see those gunners for quite a while as we ended up with 2 weeks’ fatigues!
LUCKY HORSESHOE
This is about my older brother Tom Harford.
We lived that the bottom of Nechells Park Road. Tom was 2 years older than me but smaller. My early recollection of him was that he had been born with his feet pointing inwards, so that when he walked or ran, his feet had to cross over each other; this was quite funny to us kids!
We went to St Joseph’s School so some of you may remember him? He eventually went into the Woodlands Hospital where his legs were re-set but had to wear callipers on both legs for some time. When they were removed, it was said that he had the right-shaped legs to fit on a horse (bow-legs.) We lived in Nechells until about 1944. Mom had a lock-up shop in Great Lister Street – a café. Pat Brierley was to ask me years later what happened as we were “there one minute and gone the next.”
Well, at the rear of this café lived a family. The husband was rather a bully. One Saturday, mom had words with him and he became quite abusive, so she sent word home for my dad to come. He immediately jumped on the bus, knocked on the bully’s door, which was opened by the bully himself, and my dad “clobbered” him! The bully ended up in hospital and my dad in Bloomsbury Street Police cells! The following Monday, Dad was up before Dame Cadbury. For his trouble, he got a month in “The Green” sewing mailbags. In those days, we kept that sort of thing quiet, hence we moved to Duddeston.
Tom finished his schooling at St Vincent’s and became an apprenticed jockey. He spent 24 years working at some of the top racing stables. His most famous horse was Meld, which was the first horse to win the top three classics in one season. Unfortunately, as Tom was not from a racing background, he found it impossible to get a race, although he could get more out of the horses that some of the jockeys. He took a couple of kicks during his time but came through OK. He finished at Chesterton Stud, Warwick. A photograph of Tom and Meld is on Snippets page
He finally left the racing world and for a while drove for Pickfords Removals and then became a Shunter on Weymouth Railway Station. This was where the horseshoe entered his life again. As a Shunter, he had to couple or uncouple trucks and carriages and horseshoes were distance plates that were placed behind the buffers to stop them compressing too much when the freight engine was connected to the passenger carriages.
One day, he was doing this job but because he was so small he had to stand on the railway line to hook them over the buffers. With the noise on the station, Tom did not hear the engine coming up behind him.
TOM 1932 – 1970
Hello, my name is Leonard Shields. I am one of four brothers who attended StJoseph’s between the late 40’s and early 60’s. My brothers are Laurence, Bernard and Francis.
Like many of you in those days, we were not well-off financially. Our father was a fork lift truck driver and our mother worked part-time in a local fish and chip shop.
I do feel that we were lucky in some ways; we lived in a large house, having an attic, three bedrooms and three ground floor rooms. The house was situated at the corner of Fowler Street and Bloomsbury Street, Nechells and was originally, we believe, the Gamekeeper’s lodge for Aston Hall. The Council had obviously taken it over at some stage and divided it into two homes, so in effect; we lived in half of the original house! The other half was occupied by the Ellis family, whom I am sure many of you will remember?
How times have changed! No more crossing the yard to go to the toilet or going down to the cellar to feed the gas meter or to bring up a bucket of coal! What joy when electricity was connected to the bedrooms – no more candles!
Looking back to schooldays, there were always highlights such as First Holy Communion, Confirmation, Processions around the Church yard on special occasions, singing in the Town Hall etc. Then there were the school outings to the Zoo and various other places. A coach trip always seemed, and indeed was, a very exciting event in those days. A very special time for me and a few other pupils was meeting Rolf Harris and appearing on television in a programme called “B for Birthday Party” as a guest of Bridie Walsh. We did not have a television ourselves and my family had to go to a neighbour’s to see me on TV.
Today, the world is at our fingertips but in the 50’s it was quite different. We had an Aunt and Uncle who were also our Godparents and had no children of their own. They took us camping to Stratford-on-Avon which seemed a million miles away from Birmingham. How we looked forward to those two weeks of freedom, running across fields, fishing and swimming in the river and so on.
In 1961 I left school and followed my brother Laurence into the painting and decorating trade with a local builder, signing my papers to become and Apprentice and attending Gosta Green College (now Aston University) I remember meeting other pupils from St Joseph’s who were attending various courses. Danny Kennedy was also doing decorating and others I recall were Robert Mooney and Michael Mahon.
Laurence & Len Shields.
During my teens, I met Annette at the Onion Fair (do you remember that?) and we eventually married in 1968 at Corpus Christie Church in Stechford. After moving around the Midlands and Cornwall, we are now settled in Swadlincote near Burton on Trent. We have a Son and a Daughter and three young grandchildren.
I was a pupil at St Joseph’s from 1955-1963. Mr Cassall was Headmaster and I believe that Mr Peter Whittle was Deputy Head. Mr Whittle was my favourite teacher and I was delighted to see a picture of him and his wife Mary in a previous Newsletter.
My name was Mary Divine. I lived with my parents and younger brother John at 2/19 Nechells Park Road. John has attended one of the reunions and met a few old school friends.
I have so many memories (mostly good) of my schooldays at St Joseph’s. I recall a Mrs Ball (JNR1) whose husband was a policeman, Mrs Tyler (JNR2) who taught how to “write double” with wooden pens and scratchy nibs. Miss Scaly (JNR3) who always grew a hyacinth in water on her desk and who also taught us Irish dancing. If the weather was bad we practised dance in the junior cloakroom. Through her, we also had the honour of dancing at Birmingham Town Hall dance festival. My memories seem endless; walking to school dinners at Charles Arthur Street School where my mother was a cook and server for many years. I particularly remember her serving Mr Whittle – “More cabbage Mr Whittle?” etc etc. He had a good appetite and yes, they were lovely dinners. The Head Cook was a Miss Powell who would stand in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, keeping an eye out to make sure that there was hardly any waste in the waste bin! I also recall walking to the baths on Nechells Park Road; getting the bus to the playing fields and our science class at Nelson Street, Hockley. My grandchildren can’t believe that we didn’t have everything “on site” as they do now. A lovely Irish teacher in Senior 1 was Mr Fitzpatrick who was really quite strict but funny as well. In senior 2 was a Miss Kay. I remember her as being very glamorous as she wore bright orange lipstick, red high heeled shoes and a fur coat permanently draped around her shoulders. She would remind us that our “rough” books should be as neat as our proper books. She was also quite fond of the ruler rapped across the knuckles! We never told our parents if we received this punishment as we would be in trouble at home for being in trouble in the first place! Senior 3 was always changing teachers for some reason. For quite a time, this class was taught by a Mrs Hardwick who one day, caught her legs in her chair and fell off the podium where her desk and chair were. Someone ran next door to fetch Mr Fitzpatrick to help her up. We did not dare to laugh, it was not allowed! Mr Whittle had senior 4 and he was known to be firm but fair. He was always present at swimming galas and win or lose; he congratulated you with a hearty “slap” between the shoulder blades!
Collins Sweetshop was across the road from the Long Acre entrance. We all thought Mr Collins had a glass eye but we never found out if this were true or not. The shop was full of humbugs, barley-sugar sticks, flying saucers, pear drops, 1d fishes, 4 a penny fruit salads blackjacks, bimbos (bright pink bubble gum) and black sambos (black gritty bubble gum) Lovely! Many of us bought something which resembled a twig which cost a ½ penny. Firstly, you sucked it to death to soften it then you chewed it until it frayed and you got fed up with it! I really hated it but bought it because everyone else did!
Nechells Park Road had every kind of shop you could wish for and on Saturdays, became a hive of activity. Every mother went out shopping several times. To the butcher, the grocer (Masons or the Co-op), the greengrocer etc. Saturdays was also the day for men and boys to get their hair cut at Browns the Barbers next to the Post Office. I remember Hurcombes Chemist, Midland Bank, The Wine Shop which sold cigars and sherry from the wood, Latham's the drapers, Wendy’s Wool Shop, Clarke’s Chip Shop, The Cathedral (a music and record shop) The Co-op and Masons, Levine's Ladies’ Dress Shop and Harleys Boot Menders which was at the top of our entry. Even the local doctors were on the main street – Dr Rogowski and Dr Stypulkowski.
I have a lot more memories of the School and on my 50th birthday, my husband took me back there but of course, all of the shops were gone, except for a draper’s shop called Bullivants which was on the corner of Cattels Grove and Nechells Park Road. I went up to the Church and the graveyard. The school playground was all churned up and the old building had gone but still, St Joseph’s was there!
I have lots more that I remember about the school and certain pupils there. I loved the place and the people in it, although, at the time, I did not realise just how good it was to be there.
Considering the
lack of facilities compared with today, I believe that we had a really good
education for which I am very grateful. 
So, to all of the teachers, past and present who may read this, THANK YOU ALL VERY MUCH. Mary Price (nee Divine)
John was born on the 13th
April 1942 to Louis and Rose (nee Ingram) Tocker. Louis had lived in Nechells
Place and Rose in Trevor Street Nechells before meeting and getting married at
St Joseph’s on the 6th June 1941. Louise, who was a master carpenter,
worked at
Magnet Joinery, Love Lane, Aston. Rose was employed at L.H. Newtons, Long Acre.
Louis and his brothers all attended St Joseph’s School. John’s great grand parents are buried in the Church’s Cemetery. They had come to Birmingham from Ireland during the great potato famine and settled in Nechells.
John would be the oldest of three sons, Bernard and Dennis would later follow and like John attend St Joseph’s. The family lived at 304, Thimblemill Lane, Nechells. This was at the top of that Lane, right at the junction with Nechells Green.
They shared a large backyard with several other houses. They also shared the toilets, which were situated at the top of the yard. You didn’t need boxes to put your old newspapers in; they had their own way of recycling newspapers in those days! They also shared the old brew houses, where the weekly washes would be carried out.
That backyard became a cricket pitch, a football field, or anything else it needed to be. Many a window was broken by a flying ball. All replaced by the father of the child that caused the mishap.
The backyard was at the rear of some of the shops that faced onto Nechells Green. Amongst these were, Wimbushs, The Bakers, a butchers shop, The Co-operative Store, The Municipal Bank and many others. Amongst the families that shared the yard were, the Parrys, Roberts, Coombs and Garbetts. Mr Pow’s Coal Yard was a short distance away.
Nechells Gas Works was a regular journey we had to make, especially during winter months to obtain our coke. This we would collect in a pram which we would have to push up Nechells Place Hill on our way back home. Still this was all worth while, when at the weekend we would take it in turns to have our bath, in front of a nice fire in the grate.
The house was the standard, two rooms downstairs, a coal cellar in the middle of the house. A winding staircase, leading to two upstairs bedrooms, each with it’s own fireplace. The gas lighting that was there would not be replaced by electricity until the late 1950’s.
An essential piece of equipment, was always the bucket, they had to keep on the landing at night time, in case of emergencies!
They had a cat, blackbats (beetles) and mice spiders. When John’s father would go to the Bull Ring on a day out he would often come back with day old chicks in paper carrier bags.
November 5th each year, was always celebrated by a large bonfire in the rear yard. All the neighbours would join in. As the fire would cool down, Horse Chestnuts and baking potatoes would be put into the fire and cooked.
The weeks before the fire would always have been taken up making Guy Fawkes and with the finished article, trying to get “Penny for the Guy” from passers by.
To get into the City Centre, the family would have to travel on the number 43 bus. On occasions a highlight would be when Rose took John and his brothers to a shop opposite the Central Fire Station. Here she would purchase shoes and clothes for them. The cost of which would be paid for “on tick” over the next 12 months.
Days out often took the form of visiting the Lickey Hills or Sutton Park. A pot of tea from the hut at Cofton Park at the Lickeys, is still remembered. Of course the trip to the Lickeys in those days, was by tram.
Trips of a more local nature took in the Old Lady’s Park or Spion Kop in Mount Street. There would also be visits to the Onion Fair, at The Serpentine, which for those who never had the pleasure of such a trip, was a piece of land adjacent to Aston Parish Church. Most of the land is still vacant now with the exception of the Sports Centre.
The family hiding behind curtains, when the rent man called, often paid for this trip. Well you could not go to a fair without going on the rides and having candy floss!
Saturday afternoons, on the days Aston Villa would be playing at home, would be spent watching the men on the way to the ground, either walking or travelling on the special buses. Later you would hear the roar of the crowd if the Villa scored. On occasions John’s father or uncles would take them to the matches at Villa Park or St Andrews, Birmingham City’s ground.
The best remembered footballers of this time were, Johnny Dixon, Jackie Sewell, Peter McParland and Nigel Sims of Aston Villa. Eddy Brown, Gil Merrick, Trevor Smith and Peter “Spud” Murphy of the Blues.
A Saturday evening was more often than not, spent at the L H Newton’s Social Club. A general sing song would take place, usually with John’s father starting the proceedings. For this he often received a pint of beer from the then steward, Jimmy Jones.
John had started St Joseph’s in 1947. He joined the school choir in 1953. They did have a good choir in those days and whilst he did have a good voice, it has always been thought, that John only joined, so that he could be involved with the girls for the games of hide and seek, which took place after choir practice on a Wednesday evening! He later became an altar boy.
His memories of his first day at school include sitting next to Leah Taroni and Veronica Anderson. He also remembers that their mothers had coated them in Vick, to help sooth the running noses and wheezing chests, both girls were suffering from. Well let’s face it, Vick was a cure-all in those days, along with Castor Oil.
John, without any doubt took a great interest in the social aspect of the school and quickly realized that by being part of the country dancing group, would involve him with the girls in the class. Names that spring immediately to mind were, Janet Flood, Frances Johnson, Bernadette Priestley, Ann Pretty, Mary O’Cleary and Annie McShane. It was a case of “Eat your heart out Michael Flatley”.
John did spend sometime away from the girls, when at playtime he played tennis ball football, in the playground. His regular friends were Michael Street, Graham Bowater, Maurice Donaghy, George Bull, Patrick Johnston, Hughie McKeown and myself.
He has never regarded himself as an academic, but still managed to sing for the school at Birmingham Town Hall. He also represented the school at football, cricket and athletics. He also gained his swimming free pass by swimming a mile at Nechells Baths. He did this fairly early on in his school days.
Science lessons in those days took place at Elkinton Street School, near to New John Street. To get there meant having to use public transport, for which the pupils were given plastic tokens to pay their fares. Wood work was taken on a Monday afternoon at Charles Arthur Street School, a short distance from the school.
John left school at 15 years and started work at Tant’s in Dolman Street, Nechells. He eventually moved to Mulliners Car factory in Bordesley Green Road. Around this time his family moved from Nechells to Cotterills Lane, Alum Rock.
John changed jobs again this time to BSA Tools, Mackadown Lane, Tile Cross. Here he continued to play football. Whilst there he actually played alongside Ron Atkinson, who would eventually manage Manchester United and Aston Villa, just to name a few. Now, a T.V. pundit.
Another move saw John move to Nuffields Car Plant, Common Lane where he stayed 10 years before moving to Rover, Solihull where he worked for another 10 years. From there he moved to West Midlands Transport as a driver working from both Coventry Road and Lea Hall Garages. He was on “the buses” for 21 years. He now works for a small construction firm.
Looking back John considers many things have influenced his life. In the early days it was his uncles. Coming back from their National Service they told many tales of the adventures, they experienced. As National Service had ended before he was eligible, John thought about joining up. This was not to be for on a weekend in Arley, Worceshire, he met a young lady , Shirley Barr. They have now been married 40 years and have two children and three grandchildren.
He remembers that his teenage years were influenced by the music of Bill Haley, Cliff Richard, Elvis Presley, Tommy Steel and Marty Wilde.
John has continued to give his support to close community links and was Chairman of The Fordbridge Parish Council, from 1985 till 1991.
Of all the influences the one he still strongly remembers is that of St Joseph’s School and the positive aspects he took from his time there and the teachers who graced the school at that time. He considers that he came through at a very good time and has been able to share his life with many good people.
Kevin attended St Joseph’s from 1948 to 1956.He remembers the following teachers
Miss Grundy. Miss. Martin. Miss. Scally. Mrs. Bonham. Mr. Cassell. Miss Sidebottom. Miss. Etsford. Miss. Howard. Mr. Morgan. Mrs. Harding.
Parish Father Slade.Priest. Assistant Father Motherway (a young priest recently arrived from Ireland).
The following is how Kevin remembers St Joseph’s.
Those classmates that I remember
Boys. Dominic Hughes Laurence Carroll Christopher Mortimer John Priestly David Coyle
Kevin McCusker Tommy Hall Geoffrey Lynne Patrick Saunders Michael Morris David McHugh Joseph Anderson John Sartori John Nugent Bernard Bamford Tony Carter Derek Thome Tony Barton Michael Street Brendan Rice Leo Hardy Graham Bowater Michael Lovett
Girls. Jean McGrath Janet Kimberley Theresa Bridger Jaqueline Slade Ann Campbell Christine French Barbara Trueman Elizabeth Dawson Linda Brueton Valerie Ling Helen Bilston Ann Hollis Pat Brown. Another girl I remember was Elizabeth Rooney. She was killed in a car accident shortly after leaving school. There were probably as many girls as boys. I cannot remember everyone, however the number that I remember must have meant a class size of at least 50.
Discipline at the school was very high and punishment very severe. Six of the best really hurt; you would have the marks on your hands for a week. Very few pupils were caned more than once.
Mr Cassell (who I believe has passed away) was very much a disciplinarian. I remember him as a very smart slim middle-aged man with iron-grey hair, a ruddy complexion and steel rimmed glasses. You never talked back to Mr Cassell.
Mist Sidebottom was again very strict. You made sure you paid attention in Mrs Sidebottom's class
Miss Scally who taught in the junior school was a short middle-aged Irish woman. She was an excellent teacher very religious, very respected and again very much a disciplinarian. (I believe Miss Scally has also passed away).
Miss Etsford (who was soon to be married) and Miss Howard were both very young teachers who joined the school not long before I left in 1956.
Miss Grundy was the reception class teacher in the infant school. Her name seemed to suit her she was elderly, thin. She wore glasses and wore her grey hair in a bun. I remember Miss Grundy as a kindly person. My first day at school (aged four or five) was spent playing with very bright pull along toys. I thought it was magic, although some of the other pupils were crying for their mothers.
Miss Martin was the 2nd year teacher in the infant school. I have very good memories of Miss Martin. All the children liked her immensely and were eager to gain her approval. She was a gifted storyteller and would hold the class spellbound with her stories. In those days no one had television and not everyone had a radio, (we did not). It seemed that Miss Martin could open a magic box of stories and adventures of a world we had never heard before.
Sister Alfreda was the head of the infant school. She was quite elderly and sat at her desk looking at us over the top of her glasses.
By the time we left infant school we were all familiar with basic maths and writing (printing). The infant school was situated below the senior school with the entrance (down a narrow set of steps) in Long Acre. The infant school had its own playground and its own outside toilets.
The junior school entrance was in Thimble Mill Lane. It was a completely separate building of two or three classes and also had its own playground and outside toilets.
While at junior school I can remember going on a trip to Dudley Zoo. It was the first time any of us had seen any kind of exotic animal. I can still remember seeing (and smelling) an elephant. I had no idea how big an elephant was, it was an enormous shock. I can also recall looking into a pit and seeing a tiger for the first time and feeling very nervous in case it might somehow leap out and devour me.
In 1952 we had a school trip to the cinema. This was my first ever visit to a cinema. I can remember it as clearly as yesterday. It was a religious film (naturally) called, "Never Take No For An Answer." It told the story of a small boy trying to take a donkey to see the Pope. It was the most magical moment of my life I have never forgotten it. After that we had many trips to the cinema always to see religious or biblical films. Quo Vadis, St Francis of Assisi etc.
Religious instruction was very important at St Josephs once a week we had to attend mass, this was usually on a Monday. At least once a week Father Slade would take the class for religious instruction. He would also regularly visit the parents and children in their homes. (Especially if they had not attended mass on Sunday.) Some part of every school day was devoted to religious instruction sometimes either by the class teacher, Father Slade or Sister Marguerite.
The vast majority of the children lived within walking distance of the school, coming mainly from the Aston and Nechells area. Most came from poor working class families. Some of the boys never wore socks and lots of the boys with socks had large holes in them. It was quite a common sight to see boys with the back of their trousers tom with gaping holes. There always seemed to be some sort of epidemic doing the rounds, ringworm and impetigo seemed quite common with a number of pupils having purple medication on their faces. Boys were forbidden to wear long trousers until the second or third year of senior school. The explanation for this was that torn trousers cost money and cut knees did not!
Physical training or P.T. consisted of once a week swimming and football. We usually went swimming at Nechells Baths in Nechells Park Road. I remember the water always seemed freezing cold and everyone’s lips turning blue. When it was time to play football, one of the teachers would fetch out a very large box full of very old stiff football boots all shapes and sizes mixed together. You were allowed about 30 seconds to select a pair of boots. We were then bussed to Aston Park where we quickly got our boots on. It was very rare to have two boots of the same size, usually one boot would be to large so your toes slammed into the hardened toecap. While the other boot would be to small giving you blisters on the top of your toes within minutes.
By today's standards the facilities at the school were almost none existent. There was no school hall, woodwork room, metalwork room, gymnasium, and science labs, inside toilets or dining facilities.
A lot of the children had free dinners, because the school had no dining facilities at 12.00pm we all trooped to another school. I cannot remember the name of the school we went to for our dinners, but it was situated in the vicinity of the new St Joseph's School. (Charles Arthur St. Ed.) Mrs Harding escorted the column of children every day to this school for our dinners. Mrs Harding was a heavily built quite elderly lady with bad legs. It was obviously very painful for her to make the journey every day but I never heard her complain.
At the other school we ate our dinners at very long tables and sat on long benches. Children were not allowed to leave any food on their plates unless they had been given permission from Mrs Harding. I can clearly remember one occasion in particular when we had fish for dinner (it must have been a Friday). The boy sitting next to me, John Nugent said, he did not like the dinner and that he was going to ask if he could leave it. Mrs Harding refused his request and told him to eat it because "of all the starving children in the world", (we could never understand how by eating our own dinners we were helping). John sat down and toyed with his dinner he ate a few mouthfuls, remarking that it was making him sick. He repeated his request to Mrs Harding and once again she told him to stop being silly and to eat his dinner. He was almost in tears as he sat back down. He stared at his dinner for a few minutes then reached for the bottle of salad cream, he poured at least a quarter of the bottle over his dinner. He then mashed it into a gooey paste. By this time all the children sitting near him were being put off their own dinners. He the proceeded to shovel huge amounts of the paste, into his mouth as fast as he could, just to get it over with.
We all watched with fascination, after about four or five mouthfuls he began to wretch. He put his fork down, leaned over to me and was promptly sick all over my dinner. I looked at the smelly mess on my plate with horror.
Mrs Harding saw what had happened, she went over to John, put her hand on his shoulder and told him he could leave the rest. She looked at the mess on my plate and said I could leave mine if liked! As a result of this incident, I have never been able to eat salad cream since.
Our school building was
very antiquated. In the winter months, unless you were sitting next to a
radiator or one of the massive hot water pipes feeding the radiators, you
froze. 
You
frequently had to go through one classroom to reach another. Considering the
shortcomings of the school facilities, the staff performed miracles. They did
their best to ensure that every child had a good education, with special
attention given to reading, spelling, maths, history and geography.
All the children liked and were fiercely proud of their school. Although I left St Josephs in 1956 to go to a brand new modem school, which had every facility. I never felt the same affection and never experienced the many fond memories that I did at St Josephs.
Kevin Rushe
My name is Daniel Madden who lived at 4/9 Taylor Street Nechells from 1958 until Nov 1965. I started my formal education at St Josephs in 1960 with Mrs. Pittway an apparently elderly lady whom I recall was very kind and understanding to her new group of pupils. It seemed that 45 in a class was not too bad as, although, it would be unacceptable now, the teacher who was in charge had the respect of us all.
Playtime was the best part of the day with people playing marbles in that hole in the middle of the yard, some of us used ball bearings (no one minded). It was just a happy carefree time I remember as we all came from similar poor social backgrounds and like me, there were many Irish children attending St Josephs at that time.
Teachers I recall are Headmistress Miss Lamb, Mrs. Vaughan, Miss Bonham Miss McCorr and Mrs. Ball. The caretaker was a quiet man called Mr. Webb who also served at mass with Father Timlin. Although we did not have great facilities Mrs. Ball ran the swimming team of which I was a member and I did swim at the local Galas held at Woodcock St Baths and Victoria Road baths as well of course, Nechells baths. I had the chance to represent the County, then Warwickshire, when I was 9 but as it was to be held in Coleshill my parents thought it was miles away and I never got a second chance.
Every year at St Josephs, in conjunction with Cadburys at Bourneville a road safety campaign competition was held and the last day of summer term, certificates and boxes of chocolates were distributed to all pupils who had either drawn well or written an article on road safety (I still have my certificate somewhere)
By the time I was 6 or going to school on my own, I would make my way up towards Nechells Green. It is funny as it is only called Nechells now on all the signposts I wonder why? Then passing Wright’s Fish and Chip shop, Thompson's the grocers and Mr. Henn, another grocer, past the Deans (money lender) a shop with a blacked out window. Then, on to the Green, at Nechells. At this time I would be able to see Newton's clock, it always was ten to nine, loads of time to get to school.
There is a lot more I could tell you about St Josephs and my memories. When I had to leave due to demolition of Taylor St in 1965, I found myself in three different schools in the space of one year. I never really got over this up to the time I left school at 16.
I've never really left the school. Coming back on a regular basis over the next 40 years or so to both the Church and that playground, gives me a great sense of belonging and obtained for me the values and the way of life that I have to this day.
I am glad we can maintain the link to the school and parish with our group to help keep the name for posterity. I did mention whether a commemorative plaque could be set on the playground wall to mark where the school once stood. It could be viewed by everyone who visits the grounds in the years ahead, of a bygone age.
Tony attended the school between 1935 and 1940. He lived at 64 Rupert Street, Nechells until his house was bombed. Here Tony mentioned the good luck he and several members of the family had when the house was subject of a direct hit during a bombing raid. They had been sheltering in the cellar when the bomb hit. He vividly recalls being dug out of the debris by workmen from the nearby railway yard. As he said, “You never forget that sort of thing”.
The family were then moved to Great Barr and he had to attend Maryvale. Later the family did return to Rupert St. It was here that his younger brother Paul was born on the 14th November 1946. As this was already Tony’s birthday, it made remembering their birthdays easy.
He mentioned that he remembered Fr Bouchier, who has been mentioned in the past by a number of former pupils, came to the house to see Tony’s mother and congratulate her on the birth. He presented the family with a small bottle of Champagne. Paul still has this bottle, unopened to this day.
Tony also recalls that one of his grandfathers was an Italian, who came to this country at the end of the 1st World war after his demob. His surname was Marchione. It would seem he was very good friends with the Farina family, who many of you will remember is our great story teller, Phyllis Arnolds, family.
He opened a shop in Rupert Street at the junction with Oliver Street. The premises had previously been a pub. Jack Hood, the former boxer trained in the rooms above the pub and was a friend of the family. From the shop the family made and sold Ice cream and also baked potatoes. These potatoes were also taken by Tony’s father and sold outside the Aston Hippodrome to people attending the shows there.
Tony has one major regret in his life. As a young man his greatest friend was John Russell. It seems that they were only parted when Tony went away to complete his National Service. By the time Tony came home John had started his. It would seem that whilst away John met a young lady from the London area.
Tony has never seen him since their National Service days, despite numerous attempts to trace him. I have tried to assist Tony’s search in the past but to no avail. If you can help, contact me and I will pass any information on the Tony.
When I commenced collecting articles that would be in included in the book that I was writing about St Joseph's Church and School, I had no intention of putting my own memories into print. It was only after listening to others relating their experiences that I realised there were some memories that I could contribute about how things were for me whilst I attended the school and lived in inner city post war Birmingham. For those same reasons I feel it is relevant and hope those who read this page feel the same.
I was born in George Arthur Road, Saltley, in 1942. My father was a Dublin man born in Capell Street, Dublin. He, like many other Irishmen, had come to England to seek work. After periods working on building sites, he had eventually started work in Morris Pressings, Common Lane, Washwood Heath.
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It was here he met my mother, who together with her sister and mother, had come to Birmingham from Hartlepool, County Durham, in 1939 to work in the munitions factory. Shortly after marrying my mother, my father enlisted in the army. He was to serve from 1940 to being demobbed in 1946. His health suffered during his service. Having entered as Grade A1 his discharge papers indicated C3.
I remember my mother telling me that when I was born, German air raids still aimed for the gas tanks by Nechells Place. One such raid resulted in a hit on the nearby St Saviours Church Yard in Hall Road. Apparently this resulted in the shelter we were hiding in receiving quite a serious blast, though no one was injured. I was three days old.
Coming from a fairly large family, my father was often visited by his relatives from Dublin over the next two years, when, for most of the time he was ill. I remember one who was a radio operator with Air Lingus and who always brought sweets when he came to visit.
Sadly my father died in 1948. As the years passed, I come to realise that after the death of my father, his family never ever contacted us again to discover how we were getting on. I now understand why I hold very strong feelings of resentment towards them over their lack of support.
In 1947 I started at the Holy Rosary School, Bridge Road, Saltley. The parish priest at the time was Monsignor Power. I understand he was a member of the Powers Distillery family. I remember him as a very strong minded and dominant man.
I am still not certain of the reason but in 1949 my mother placed me into St Joseph’s School were I was to remain until I left in 1957. My first teacher at this school was Sister Alfreda. I know Miss Grundy still taught the first class but I cannot remember the second-class teacher. Sister Alfreda’s class always seemed to have a lot of interesting books available. I remember a particular one about Africa contained the word “veldt”, a word that intrigued me so much I could not wait to find out more about Africa.
I remember making my first Holy Communion at St Joseph’s Church. After the service it was intended that all those who had participated would be taken to Sutton Park. The cost would be 6d (2. 1/2p) Going home I found that my mother did not possess that amount to give me. I was still living at George Arthur Road and either had to walk or catch the bus to Nechells. My gran, (My mother’s mother) solved the problem by going out, and finding sufficient bottles, took them back to shops to get refunds. She was a lovely woman who had raised 12 children in Hartlepool, then in County Durham, during bad times. She knew the problems of having no money. She died the year after my Communion.
By now I had a younger brother, who had been born 10 months before my father died. My mother, like many others found times hard. Due to problems with my brother’s health, she could not leave him to go to work. I can remember going with her with an old pushchair around to the coke works in Crawford Street to get a bag of coke so we could have heating. On the way back I would pick up coke that had fallen off other pushchairs. From then onwards I would often come home with pieces of coal or coke that I found in the street. I also remember scrounging boxes that could be broken up to burn.
I remember that food was not always plentiful I know that a stew of some sort or other was often the meal of the day. Sometimes it only had pigs trotters or black pudding in. My mother used to add pearl barley to it to give the meal some "body".
Crawford Street had other memories for me though. That was were you had to go if you qualified for free boots and clothing from the Birmingham Mail Tree Fund. My mother would never let me have shoes because, “ Boots strengthen your ankles”. I remember on one occasion I received my first pair of long trousers. Having been warned to keep them clean because these were to last, I went out with friends to Ward End Park feeling all grown up. I really did not see a low wire fence that put a 3-inch cut in the trouser leg. It will suffice to say my mother was not happy when I arrived home.
I remember my mother sorting old clothes that were past wearing and cutting them up into small “clips”. These she pushed into a cut open Hessian sack with one half of a clothes peg that had been sharpened for the task. We then had a clip mat. These I remember used to get made towards then end of the year so that they could be used, whilst still new, as quilts on the bed during the cold winter weather. Once the winter was over they would take their rightful place on the floor.
In order to make ends meet a little better my mother decided to rent out one of our rooms to lodgers. Some will remember that at this time adverts for lodgers appeared outside most newspapers shops. Many often said, “Irish need not apply”. This was never on my mother’s. The money came in very useful. I do remember my mother was very strict with them and would not permit any bad language or heavy drinking. One night a new lodger failed to take that into account and got a little “stroppy”- the next thing I knew she had laid him out with one punch! He left the next day!
Meanwhile at school I was slowly moving through the classes. I seem to remember the lower school at the bottom of the drive was split into three classrooms. The only teacher I can remember from here was Miss Scally. She was strict but I considered that I learned quite a lot in her class.
Whilst in this section of the school we had twin female trainee teachers arrive. Being very much alike, we often didn’t know which one we were having till they told us. I don’t think they remained very long.
Miss Scally taught the last class in the junior section of the school. Sadly she has now passed away. She is buried in St Joseph’s churchyard in a grave at the rear of the church.
Whilst I attended the Junior School it was very rare for me to be able to get money to purchase comics. My needs in this area where partially realised when I discovered a store of old comics in a storeroom near to the entrance of the building. Discovering how to get in, I used to borrow and take home some of them to read. I then used to return them and take fresh ones. I have never mentioned this before to anybody.
My main friends in the class were Graham Bowater. He was a fast runner I remember. He used to live in Chartist Road, Washwood Heath. Sadly Graham died a few years ago. I never met him again after leaving school. Michael Street, who lived in Cuckoo Road, Nechells, became a chef I believe. I saw him a few times after leaving school. When efforts were being made to start the School Reunion Group, Michael is aware of the reunion group but to date has not attended.
Last but not least was John Tocker. We would be involved with a football team after leaving school, John was a good player, I only played if they were short, or ran the line if they were not. John is now the current Chairman of the School Reunion Group.
At home things were still hard on occasions. My role would often mean taking my mother’s shoes to neighbours to try and sell them to get money for food or other necessities. I even used to take articles to the pawnshop at Wright Road in an attempt to get money. They did not bother about my age and the little money they gave you always suggested to me they did not expect you to redeem the item.
I suppose it would have been about this time that the 11 plus exams, or whatever they called them in those days, took place. I seem to remember that if successful there were a number of schools you could attend. Those I can recall were: Saltley Grammar, Bordesley Green Technical College. Sparkhill Commercial and possibly The Abbey Erdington.
I know that I was most concerned. Being mindful of the financial problems that my mother had, all I wanted to do was leave school go to work and help her. Aware that if I passed the exams and went to the higher school I would have longer to wait until I could go to work, so in the exams, I only attempted one question of the Maths paper, thus ensuring I would not pass.
One of my classmates who did move on was Maurice Donaghy. He used to live in Cato Street North; his mother was a District Nurse. Maurice was a good football player and eventually signed for Wolverhampton Wanderers. I do not believe he made the first team but did eventually play for good class teams in the Midland Semi-pro leagues.
Though I could not sing I managed to get in the church choir. I only joined because I had been told that after practice on Wednesday evenings all the lads used to play hide and seek in the churchyard. I think my lack of singing ability was found out very quickly as every time the electric pump on the organ broke down, I was the one who had to pump the organ throughout the mass.
Very soon I became an altar boy. This I really enjoyed. I loved the Latin responses and even today miss them during a mass. I still find the current practise strange when I compare it to the old type of service.
I quickly found out that being tall, there were very few cassocks that fitted me. Most of them finished halfway between my knee and my ankle. This resulted in a large display of trouser leg and the white pumps I often had to wear, whilst waiting to get new boots or shoes.
One of my proudest moments was when with John Tocker, I went to St Gerard's at Coleshill, where we became made members of The Guild of St Stephen. This allowed us to serve on the altar with the red-corded medal around our necks. It was for me a badge of rank.
I soon became a regular server on the 10.30am Mass on Sundays. Prior to this mass there was always a formal blessing when the priest taking the mass, accompanied by two altar boys holding the tails of his cloak, went around the church blessing the congregation with holy water. When the priest was Father Slade it was always a sedate walk around the church. When it was Father Keily, the younger and very active curate, it was somewhat of a race to keep up with him with holy water flying everywhere, I often got back to the altar out of breath and wet.
Going to church on Sundays always meant you could see the change in the gas-ometer towers at the Gas works at Nechells Place. Sunday was the day you saw the most movement because of all the breakfasts and dinners being cooked. On your way to church they were usually a little below the top of the supporting tower. On the way back they could be as much as half way down.
I also remember that when returning home to Saltley, after Mass, I would go the longer way home down Aston Church Road to do some train spotting. On certain Sundays, some of the bigger trains, I think we always called them Semi's, would use this line if there was work on the track in the Tamworth area. This was the only place you could see this type of engine in the local area, due to the fact they were too tall to use New Street Station.
St Joseph’s always seemed to promote sports. I recall travelling with the class on the tram along Tyburn Road to Bracken Road then walking to the playing fields just off Kingsbury Road. Eventually buses would come to the school and take us, though, the only playing field I can now remember is the one at Hodge Hill Road, Stechford.
I was now aware that most of the boys had football boots by this time. I, having to play in pumps or other such footwear, always had to play in goal. I thought I had discovered a remedy when by buying some loose football studs for a few pence and using the old foot last we had at home for repairs; I hammered the studs into a pair of my boots. I could then use these for the football matches. You could not keep much from my mother, she found out and the practice came to a sudden end.
Help was at hand, John Tocker’s mother ran a catalogue and I was able to purchase my first boots from there for a few pence a week. It did not matter really, I never could play football very well and because I loved the game so much, I turned to refereeing eventually gaining a Class 1 Grade.
In the Senior School the boys attended Charles Arthur Street School on Mondays for woodwork lessons, the teachers were, a Mr. Savage and Mr. Lloyd. Their desk was front and centre of the class. There was a front recess in this desk at the bottom of the recess was a 30inch long by 2 inch wide and ½ thick cane. As they would point out the rubber grip around the one end was to protect their hands from shock when they caned you.
Whilst I never saw that cane being used in anger, the fear of its presence was enough. They did however keep a small supply of wooden blocks on their desk and did not hesitate from throwing them at you for minor indiscretions. They did not seem to worry if you were not the one they were aiming at. Again the fear factor came in.
Finding out that records of who attended the woodwork lessons did not appear to be passed back to St Joseph’s, John Tocker and I decided to take advantage one Monday afternoon when Aston Villa were playing at home with a 3pm Kick off (no floodlights in those days). We “wagged off” and went to the match. I wished we had not. The match, against Manchester City, was played in a torrential downpour. We, at the then uncovered Holte End, got absolutely soaked and it was only a 1-1 draw. I never did it again.
The class as a whole used to take our science lessons at Elkington Street School, Newtown on a Friday morning for the first lesson. This of course entailed making our own way there. Part of the old building is still there, though no longer a school.
Having completed the lesson mid morning, it seemed we always got back to St Joseph’s in bits and drabs having had to make our own way again. I do not seem to recall much comment from staff at St Joseph’s.
The penultimate class in the senior school was taught by Frank Cassell, a teacher of the old brigade. A Liverpudlian by birth, a fact he never let you forget. He proved a very good teacher who was always fair. He, whilst looking after the class, also took great interest in sport. He managed to find me considerable work blowing up and repairing the case-balls for football in the winter and looking after the cricket gear in the summer. I avoided quite a few lessons that way.
During my time in his class, both morning and afternoon lessons started and ended with a prayer. The morning period ending with the Angelus, at 12.00pm. My desk was situated near a window, which overlooked Johnny Wright’s playing field. One day whilst saying the angelus, I saw that the grounds man was in the process of marking out the football pitch with those little machines which made the white lines. As he came to a point just outside the window the machine must have hit a divot as he tripped over the machine spilling the marker paint into which he fell. Needless to say both I and John Tocker, who shared a desk, laughed. We were not laughing on the afternoon when we both had the cane off Frank for the first and only time.
Every year there was a school trip. Frank arranged it one year that we went to Liverpool. I seem to remember that Liverpool had some sort of overhead rail system, of which he was very proud. The highlight of the trip I suppose was a ride in the coach under the Mersey Tunnel and a trip on the Mersey Ferry. I can remember the inner city areas were very like Birmingham, only much worse.
I believe all the pupils dreaded going into the final senior class that was taught by the much feared, Miss Sidebottom. Once there though, you quickly realised that her bark was much worse that her bite and that she was a truly wonderful teacher.
Coming to the end of my year in her class we took part in the Catholic School Sports at Salford Bridge. At the last moment it was realised that no one had been entered for the ½ mile race. I was volunteered. I could not run up a bill never mind a ½ mile race. The race started like a sprint and very soon I was left far behind on what was a two-lap race. It will suffice to say they were about to start the next race when I came in.
I did not see Miss Sidebottom after leaving school in 1957 until June 2000 at a Reunion. Not only did she remember me she also remembered the race. She added what had pleased her, was the fact that despite being so far behind I had chosen to finish. She liked determination.
L-r Graham Bowater, Michael Street, John Tocker, Yours truly
On leaving I started work further along Long Acre at the Verities Factory. So it meant I travelled the same way to work as I had to school. I was to remain there for 3 years before moving on to work for Birmingham City Transport, later West Midlands Travel as a conductor and driver at Washwood Heath Garage. On promotion to Inspector I moved to the Perry Barr Garage. I left there in 1969 to join Birmingham City Police Force. In 1974 this became West Midlands Police. In the Police Force I worked in many of the Divisions across the force before retiring in 1996 with the rank of Detective Chief Inspector.
It was only when completing my thoughts for this article that I realised that throughout my time living at George Arthur Road, (I left in 1967), we never had hot running water. It always had to boiled in either a kettle or pan to wash or bathe.
A former pupil has said about the school, “ We were poor and under- privileged”. That I feel is only partially correct. Poor yes. Under-privileged. No. I feel that St Joseph’s gave us a good grounding and taught us respect and self-discipline. It provided me with a standard of education that permitted me to obtain a good position in both life and work I always hoped to achieve. For that I truly thank St Joseph’s School and people like Sister Marguerite, Miss Sidebottom, Mr Cassell and Miss Scally.
One of the great pleasure I have experienced whilst putting this web page and the book together, has been meeting and talking to the former teachers and pupils. Their memories have proved fantastic and still appeared vivid in their various recollections.
This proved particularly so with Miss Sidebottom, Miss Vaughan, Miss Martin, and Mr Whittle from the teachers. They still would not let you get away with anything that had not been portrayed correctly.
In Phyllis Arnold, a former pupil, I discovered a wealth of memories, which I hope I have been able to do justice to.
I am only sorry that Sr. Marguerite, the former Head at the school, died a short time before the reunion group started, as I feel she would have added even more to tales from St Joseph's colourful past.
