by James Deane (Dixie)
Food
We never seemed to get enough to eat at Shotley Park in the early years
that I was there, and the mealtimes were absolutely boring. Breakfast and
all the other meals were done in a strict ritual, first prayers were had
to be said before we could start eating. There was to be no talking at the
table in the dining room only silence and woe betide anyone of us that
dared to utter a word during meals. Also “everything” had to be eaten
whether we liked it or not. The dining room was large, in it were
about fifteen tables with four chairs each, spread around the dining area.
The food was usually horrible at that time mostly thick porridge and
kippers with a couple of slices of bread and marmalade for breakfast.
After breakfast, before we were allowed to leave the dining room, we all
had to take our daily dose of the dreaded Cod-liver oil because this was
always said to be good for us. I always left the Breakfast table the same
way as I came to it !HUNGRY!.
The late afternoon tea wasn’t that much better, we were normally given,
four half slices of bread with butter and jam daintily laid out on the
plate in front of us, and that was it, if we were still hungry then it was
too bad there wasn’t anymore. I can quite often remember sitting at
the table especially at tea times knowing that later when I left the table
I would be just as hungry as before I had started. I often played this
game of seeing how long I could make a mouthful of bread last before
swallowing it. I would bite of a small piece of the slice of bread, chew
on it until I could chew no more, push it to the back of my throat so as
to swallow it and then push it back to the front of my mouth so that I
could chew on it again, this way the food seemed to last longer.
Luckily during the week we ate our midday meals when we were at the
outside school at Leadgate, there we could eat as much as we liked. Here
we could stuff ourselves like pigs, most of us Barnardo kids ate two or
three helpings of puddings until the serving staff would exclaim that we
all must have hollow legs because that was the only place that all this
food could go.
At the weekends and school holidays we ate our midday meals at Shotley
Park, these meals were normally horrible I can’t ever remember having a
good one. The meals were always tasteless, the cooks always seemed to come
up with things like boiled turnips, or even worse big boiled onions,
boiled butter beans, boiled string peas, boiled macaroni, I hated these
foods. “Everything” on the plate had to be eaten whether we liked it or
not, the masters and matrons would always drum into our ears that millions
of people were starving in the world and food should not be wasted no
matter how awful it tasted. They then would stand behind us and force us
to eat these horrible boiled onions, turnips and the rest. I
always had to close my eyes and swallow and hope that these things that I
had to swallow, would go down and stay down, but the piece of boiled onion
or turnip would usually go down to just below my Adams apple and then
start to come up again, I would have to close my eyes again and force it
down again and pray that it would stay down. This I had to do all the way
through the meal, with one of the masters or matrons standing behind
telling me about all the millions of people starving in the world, it was
a form of sadistic torture for them, and I'll never forget it so long as I
live.
Things were to change for the better though, when a couple of years after
I first arrived a new headmaster was to take over from the present
headmaster Mr Hillman.
Even today I still have this hatred for certain vegetables at my meals
especially boiled onions, boiled turnips, boiled butter beans, stringed
peas etc. One day I was able to get my revenge, I was being
forced to eat these stringed peas for the good of world hunger when
suddenly the whole lot came up and I vomited all over the dining table.
After that they left me in peace, I never had to eat everything that I was
given anymore, I’ve always wondered how many people in the world I could
have saved with that horrible food I never had to eat anymore.
Table manners was another thing that was pumped into us, anyone that dared
to eat other than the way we were taught to eat, was sent outside and had
to stand in the hallway on their own until the meal was finished, after
which they could leave without getting anything to eat at all.
In the evenings we would be given a cup of coca or horliks with a bun or a
rock cake and then it was upstairs to get our baths and get our hair
scrubbed with a scrubbing brush and carbolic soap, and then we were put to
bed, which always seemed to be early around seven at night, so that the
staff could get some peace although in the summer months because of the
long days of daylight we could generally stay up a little longer.
We slept in Dormitories of about six to eight children to a room there was
to be no talking or getting out of bed at nights not even to go to the
toilets, which was probably the reason why so many of us wet the beds.
Every so often a Master or Matron would come in to make sure we were
asleep, if we weren’t we just squeezed our eyes tight and pretended that
we were. In the morning we made our own beds and those that had wet the
beds where publicly humiliated, I used to try and get away with just
making my bed whether it was wet or not so as to avoid this daily public
humiliation, we then got washed and scrubbed our teeth, before going down
to breakfast and then of to school.
At the weekends we were normally given some chore to do on Saturday
mornings, such as cleaning our dormitories and picking up rubbish or
raking up the leaves in the autumn. When we had finished these chores the
rest of the day was ours and we could do what we liked. On Saturdays
we were given our pocket money and a sweet allowance. Sugar was still
rationed at that time so sometimes we were given sweets and sometimes we
got sweet coupons. If we were given sweet coupons we would buy our own
sweets at a sweatshop in the nearby village of Shotley Bridge or in
Consett about seven miles away. With the rest of our pocket money we
usually went to the flicks (cinema) the Saturday afternoon matinee’s which
usually started around two in the afternoon, in Consett.
We either walked it to Consett or went by bus. In those days it was still
possible to get into the flicks with an empty jam-jar as payment if we
could get hold of one, this had something to do with the austerity period
at that time. These matinee cinemas would be absolutely full of
screaming kids. Flash Gordon, Zorro, Buck Rogers and the Lone Ranger were
all the rage then, the cinema would be full of noise from all these
screaming kids until the films started and then there was absolute silence
until the end of the show.
After the cinema we would wander around the town looking in the shops in
Consett. Shortly after I had arrived at Shotley Park I can remember four
of the older homes boys taking me into Woolworth’s the biggest shopping
store in the town. I found it amazing as it was the first time I had been
into such a big shopping store, it seemed to me that everything and
anything was for sale in this shopping store.
The thing that I wondered at most though was all these wires that hung
criss-cross just below the ceiling with little bags or canisters whizzing
around the store. I was watching the cashiers putting what looked like
money in these little canisters then sending it whizzing all around the
building along these wires, when all of a sudden I and all the other older
boys were grabbed by the arms by a group of security men that worked at
the store and taken to a room at the back. One of the older boys had been
caught shoplifting, as I and the rest of us all came into the store
together we were all accused of being involved with shoplifting.
Nobody would listen to my or the others plea’s of ignorance and innocence
we were all part of the group therefore guilty, the stores security staff
wanted to know who the ringleader was as they thought we were part of a
gang. We were all interrogated separately but nobody said anything and
anyway there was nothing to say, the one boy had tried to steal something
that was all, but he did it on his own the rest of us never knew what he
was doing.
There was an unwritten law amongst us Barnardo's kids at Shotley Park you
never snitched on one another, if anyone got into trouble, he or she
either owned up or we all took our punishment together even if we had
nothing to do with the offence, but you never snitched. We might beat the
offender up afterwards if we felt that the person should have owned up,
but we never snitched on one another no matter what. Once the security
people had taken all our names we were all taken back to Shotley Park and
presented before the headmaster Mr Hillman.
Mr Hillman was one of those types of people that like to stand aloof and
distant, who has to let you know that he is the superior of all superiors
under his command. You get them in all forms of authority, police chiefs,
Military Chiefs, high ranking civil Servants and religious priests, in the
work place, almost anywhere when power over others can be obtained. They
tend to try to give the impression that they are responsible to no one
else but God and they’re command is law, they generally only relent in
their old age when confined to bed close to death. It is then that they
want to give everything away to good causes in the hope that they will be
accepted in heaven. Mr Hillman was one of these types.
All five of us were marched into his office and stood with our heads
bowed. When we looked up at him he was standing in the middle of the room
with his legs apart holding a long cane between his hands. He would bend
the cane in the middle to give the maximum fearful effect, it worked, I
was terrified at what was about to happen. In those days boys wore
short pants with high stockings if we bent over the pants would reveal
more flesh. Mr Hillman being an expert at dealing out punishment with a
cane, knew, this so occasionally he would aim lower and get you on the
back thighs. The first boy had to bend over the arm of a settee that was
in the room and he got six hard strokes across the backside, then it was
the next boys turn, then the next until it was my turn at the very end.
I was to be the last one to be punished, maybe this was to let me see what
was happening as a first offender or because I was the youngest boy of the
group. My turn eventually came, I bent over the settee and bit
my teeth and waited for the first stroke to come. I felt a sharp sting of
pain that went all the way through my buttocks, then came a second sharp
sting on top of the first sting then the next and the next until I could
not help but to cry. When he had finished we were all led out by another
Master and I noticed that I was the only one crying. Later when I had
stopped snivelling one of the older boys who had also been punished came
up to me and told me never to cry again only sissies did that, “never,
never cry again he said, never let them see that they have hurt you if you
want to be one of us never let them know how you feel”.
It was then that I started to learn how to keep my emotions such as
sorrow, love, sadness and grief to my-self no matter what happened, we had
to be tough and seen to be tough. We could take anything that was thrown
at us and give it back twice as hard.
LEADGATE SECONDARY MODERN
SCHOOL
The first Monday after I arrived at Shotley Park I was taken to the
outside Secondary School at Leadgate by one of the Matrons from Shotley
Park. When we arrived, she went inside the principles office and talked to
him about my situation while I waited in the hallway. Shortly afterwards
the Matron came out, introduced me to the headmaster, said goodbye and
then left. The headmaster then talked to me and explained the rules of the
school, then he took me down the hallway to a classroom full of children
around my age, told the schoolteacher who I was, and I was given a place
to sit down in the class, it was the first time that I had ever been to
school and I felt very confused and alone.
At the morning break all the other children went outside to play so I went
along with them. Because we were infants, our playground was situated at
the top part of the school, the juniors played around the middle
playground situated between the top and the bottom of the school, and the
seniors played on the bottom playground. The senior ground was also the
area where all of the sporting events took place, netball, rounders and
athletics or running as we called it then.
I wasn’t sure what to do during the first morning break, it was my first
day so I just tagged along with some of the children. When we were all
outside on the playground a couple of the boys started to call me names
like banana boy and a few other names which I couldn’t understand at the
time. They then started to push me away and spat and gobbed all over me
until my clothes and my hair was all covered in spittle and snot and I
started to cry, one of the teachers came over and told me to go to the
playground toilets and clean it of, but she never said anything to the
other children. This spitting and pushing when I wanted to play with the
children of my class in the playground was an every day occurrence, in the
morning, during the midday and at the afternoon break. Every time it was
the same, but all the teachers would say was that I was to go to the
toilet and clean it off, never once did they say anything to the other
children that were doing the spitting and pushing.
At Leadgate secondary modern, all classroom breaks, infant, junior and
senior were at the same time, but in my class there were no other Barnardo
kids, so after awhile I went to the middle playground where the juniors
played because I knew that a few of the older Barnardo kids who were
juniors, played there. They protected me and made sure that nobody spat or
pushed me around while they were there.
One day, during the midday lunch break just before the summer holidays,
while I was playing on my own at school in the middle playground, I was
called over by four of the older Barnardo kids. They had got hold of this
kid from the infants school that always used to spit and gob on me. All
around him stood one of the older Barnardo boys, they had him surrounded,
they had him trapped in the middle of a circle, and he couldn’t get away.
He just stood there, looking very nervous and fidgety, he had one of those
big round sweets in his mouth, which we used to call gobstoppers in those
days. These gobstoppers, were at the time all the rage, they were large
hard boiled round sweets about one and a half to two inches in diameter
that changed colour as you sucked on them.
He stood there surrounded by these four older Barnardo's kids with his
eyes wide open shivering in fear. I knew him well, he was the one that
always started with the spitting and pushing and edging the other kids
from the class to do the same to me.
I went over to the older boys who had this kid cornered between them and
one of them said, “hit him.” I was a bit scared, because I thought once
these older Barnardo's boys were not around to protect me, he and all the
other kids in my class would all start to spit on me and push me around
again. “Hit him” said one of the older Barnardo kids, “ hit him”. I could
see then, that I had to hit this kid with the gobstopper in his mouth no
matter what happened. I had to hit him otherwise these older boys would
never help me again, but I was still worried about what would happen later
when they were not around and I would be alone with this kid and his
friends.
“Hit him” said the older boy once again, only this time with more anger in
his voice, I knew then that I had no other choice, so I clenched my fist
and hit him right in the mouth with as much force that I could muster, and
somehow I knew, that I only needed to hit him once, once would be enough.
I had never thought that one punch could be so devastating. The older
Barnardo boys were so surprised at the result of that one punch, that they
decided that this was enough. The gobstopper that this bullying kid had
been sucking, had been completely smashed up and was falling out of his
bleeding mouth in little pieces, I had hit him so hard that the thing and
a couple of his teeth had completely disintegrated.
From that moment my school life was to change for the better, it soon got
around what had happened even the school teachers knew, but they never
said anything. I had learned my second most important lesson whilst
in Barnardo's, don't let any outsiders mess you around, as soon as anybody
said anything that I didn’t like, I hit them and I only needed to hit
once. I had a really hard punch, that was always accurate to the nearest
half inch every time I threw it. I also learnt that I was exceptionally
strong for my age.
After that I had no problems anymore with the classroom bully, or his
friends, I never even had to go to the other children in my class to ask
if I could play with them, they came to ask if they could play with me.
I'd had got the reputation that I was a good fighter and that I didn’t
take any messing about, which was also to prove very helpful for the
remainder of my days in Dr. Barnardo's. However reputations have to be
lived up to and this was to prove fateful in later years before I left the
Homes.
Sunday and Sunday
Schools
I was brought up under the Church of England Protestant faith, my mother
had me christened in this faith, and she had requested Barnardo's to
continue to do this when she put me in the homes. Sunday
mornings we had to go to church and for the first few years I had to go to
Sunday afternoon school next to the church for religious lessons as well.
Sunday mornings we were all dressed up smartly in our Sunday best, with
every last bit of dirt and grime scrubbed from our body’s so that we
looked cleaner than clean. The Protestant Church St Cuthberts stood high
on a hill, above the village at Shotley Bridge about a mile away. I rather
enjoyed going to the church, I saw it as a day out. Every Sunday before we
left for the church, we were each given a penny for the Church collection,
from one of the Masters and off we went.
We strolled through the village and up the hill towards the Church,
walking along as nice innocent children with round little hollows above
our heads feeling pure and good. When we got to the Church we would
hang about outside until the first few rows of pews were filled by the
public, once they were filled we would all file in together taking our
places in the pews as far back from the alter as possible, out of the
chaplains view.
The service would begin and we would say our prayers and sing all the
hymns like little angels, waiting to see if the collections would be
collected in a sack or tray? On most occasions a collection sack
would be used to collect the donations for the church, it was only during
the Christmas or Easter periods that the Chaplain used a tray, this was to
entice more money from the general public during those two periods. He
knew that it made them, the public, feel guilty when the person standing
next to them could see how much money they put on the tray, so they dug
deeper into their pocket.
We Barnardo's kids preferred the collection sack, we all had our pennies
ready when the collection sack came around, but we also had buttons ready
as well. With a quick and handy movement, we could pop in the buttons in
such a way that if anyone was looking they would never think that we had
done a switch, which was the reason why we sat as far back from the
Chaplain as possible, so that he couldn’t see what was going on.
Looking back and reflecting on this, the Chaplain must have known what was
going on, because there must have been exactly the same amount of buttons
in the sack every week, but he never snitched on us. He definitely will be
one of those that will get called back up to visit our Makers when he
dies, if he isn’t there all ready. When the Church service was
finished, we’d walk down into the Village where we knew of a sweet shop,
that sold us sherbet for our pennies on a Sunday and we'd all went happily
back home to Shotley Park, sucking sherbet.
For the first year or so, we also had to go to Sunday school on Sunday
afternoons in the Village, to learn religious stories and the bible, but
after awhile for some reason the Sunday school was closed and we didn’t
have to go anymore, which meant that we were free to do what we wanted on
Sunday afternoons.
Much later when the new Headmaster arrived at Shotley Park, he gave us
permission to go once a month to the Church of our choice. I and a couple
of friends chose the Methodist Church because their Church Sunday service
was the shortest. I have always had a thing about all this
religion stuff, we were taught that God and our saviour Jesus always
looked after and protected all of us from evil.
We were also taught that if we did do anything wrong God and Jesus saw it.
If we stole they saw it, If we were cruel to others they saw it, in fact
it didn’t matter what we did they saw it and would punish us for it. But
if we prayed and asked for forgiveness then we would always be forgiven, I
liked that arrangement so I prayed every day. I wouldn’t pray while
the others were around of course, that would mean I was a sissy. I only
prayed openly when we had to at the Church, or at meal times when we all
had to pray together at Shotley Park. The rest of the time I prayed on my
own after I felt that I had done something wrong and they, God and Jesus
had seen me. Like I said I had a good working arrangement with these two
and we always seemed to get on very well.
This arrangement I still have today, only today I don’t believe in God and
Jesus Christ as the ultimate Superior beings anymore, and I cant believe
in anything that the Churches or different faiths around the world want us
to believe either, although I do believe that Christianity is one of the
better religious human beliefs.
Today I prefer to use the term our Maker or Makers as the ultimate beings.
I do not go along with the idea that our Maker or Makers receive us all
back when we die, I believe that only a chosen few are welcomed back, the
rest are cast on the wayside. I’ve always said that they, our Maker
and Makers owe me one. Whenever I get back up there or wherever it is that
we meet after I die, I intend to give them a good going over for the joke
that they’ve played on me. I might even thump a couple of them when I get
back up there, if they get me worked up, which is probably the reason why
they haven’t called me up yet and don’t intend to for awhile.
Christmas Time at
Shotley Park
If anyone felt on the outside that we never had good and happy Christmas’s
then they were wrong, the Christmas’s that I experienced at Shotley Park
when I was a kid where the best I'd ever known. At Shotley we got just
about everything that a child could ask for at Christmas, at least that’s
the way I saw it. Shortly before Christmas the Headmaster would read
out a list to us of people who wished to send Xmas presents to us. Our
names would be put onto this list and be sent out at random to the people
on the outside who wanted to send us Barnardo kids presents for Xmas, then
we would wait and fantasise about what sort of presents each of us were we
to get .
On Christmas eve we would all gather together and sing Xmas carols and
play Xmas games all evening in the big Ballroom at the home. At Christmas,
the Ballroom was always full of balloons and Xmas streamers hanging from
the roof, at the end of the room was a big Xmas tree full with Xmas lights
and different coloured silver streamers. After the games and carol
singing we went up to our dormitories, hung a pillow slip, not stockings!
at the end of our beds and tried to stay awake to see if Santa Claus and
his reindeers were real or not. It never worked, none of us could ever
stay awake at Xmas. Whether the Masters and Matrons anticipated us and
gave us something to sleep I'll never no, but no matter how hard we tried
we couldn’t stay awake.
The next morning we all seemed to wake up at the same time, we all would
scramble out of our beds, and there they were, all of our pillow cases
that were hanging at the end of our beds would be absolutely full of Xmas
presents of all different shapes and sizes. Some of the boys got
mechanical train sets, some car sets etc. The girls got their dolls and
play houses etc. All of us had oranges, tangerines, nuts of all makes and
sizes, dates, sweets and chocolates stuffed into our pillow cases as well.
After we’d all finished showing each other the presents that we'd gotten,
we would go downstairs to the dining room for Xmas breakfast, after Xmas
breakfast we would run back upstairs to play with our presents. When it
was time for our Xmas dinner we would go into the dining room again which
had now been completely decorated for Xmas, and have our Xmas dinner.
First we would see all the Xmas crackers next to our plates, we pulled on
the crackers and put on the Xmas hats that came out of them, then we would
start our Xmas dinner. The Xmas dinner always consisted of roast potatoes,
brussel sprouts, yorkshire pudding and turkey and turkey seasoning. Then
came the Xmas trifle, I loved the Xmas trifle, and then came the Xmas
pudding.
Just before Xmas I always asked the cooks if I could help out in the big
kitchen, I always got the job of stirring the Xmas pudding. I loved that
job, I would get bits of pudding on my fingers and lick it off, obviously
I got lots of Xmas pudding onto my fingers. Then the cook would give me a
pile of sixpence’s and thrupenny piece’s that had to be mixed with the
pudding, these I threw into the Xmas pudding and stirred and stirred until
non could be seen. On Xmas day I would eat as much pudding as I could
until I was nearly sick, in the hope that I could get as many sixpence’
and thrupences as possible.
After the Xmas dinner we would go into the Ballroom to collect our Xmas
parcels from the people that had sent us presents from the outside. First
our names were called out one by one, we would then be told who had sent
us the Xmas parcels, this was because we had to write a letter of
thanks after Xmas, then we could go forward and collect them. I don’t no
why, it wasn’t that I was ungrateful for what I got, but I always had the
feeling that I was hard done by when we got these presents. I mean, a
couple of the other kids would get a three wheeled bicycle, others would
get boxes of aeroplanes made out of balsawood that they had to put
together, some got scooters, harmonicas, roller skates or play horses. A
lot of the girls got baby prams or really big baby dolls that they could
dress up and change their clothing. I always got things like plasterseen,
crayons, drawing books, children’s books etc. One year I did get a great
big meccano set which I really enjoyed for many years, maybe this is why
even today I love to take things apart and put them together again.
In the afternoon we went to sleep to get a bit of energy back, for the
evening Xmas party. At the Christmas evening party we ate Jelly, Trifle,
Christmas cake, all sorts of sweets and Chocolates, plus my favourite
Mince pies. After the meal we would go back into the Ballroom where the
big Christmas tree was and play Christmas games. These would be Musical
Chairs, Blind mans bluff etc. Sometimes a Christmas play would be acted
out, in which we would all take part. I was often chosen as one of the
three wise men.
On boxing day we would be taken to a pantomime, often in Newcastle by bus.
I always loved going to these pantomimes, for me the whole day from start
to finish was an adventure. We would all wait excitingly for the buses to
turn up at the front of the home as soon as they arrived we’d board them
and the trip would begin. For me the trip to Newcastle on the bus was an
adventure in itself, Id continuously be looking out of the window
observing every little thing that I could see as we drove through the
villages on the way. I would notice the shops and the people walking
along. I would especially try to look out to see if I could see children
from the outside playing in the streets, although at that time of the year
there were very few playing outside because of the cold weather.
In the North of England it always snowed before Xmas in those days so a
white Xmas was virtually guaranteed. As we drove along the country lanes
to Newcastle, I could see that the country side looked beautifully
picturesque when it had snowed. The hills, the valleys and the trees were
all white and untouched, long large bunched up icicles hung from the drain
pipes and roofs of the isolated houses along the way. Occasionally
somebody would see a rabbit or a fox scurry across the fields and we would
all shout out and look, it was only when we entered Newcastle that the
snow started to change its colour and shape and begun to look dirty and
slushy, but by then there were other things to be looked and amazed at.
The first thing that struck us was that so many of the houses all looked
alike, streets and streets of them exactly the same. They were same colour
with the same style and all with the front doors that led straight onto
the pavement, each had a little garden at the back which led onto another
garden and another house, which had its front door that led straight onto
the street, just like my old home when I was living with my Mother in
Liverpool.
As we entered the city centre the building structure started to change.
Here the buildings were of all different shapes and sizes some enormous
and elegant, the streets started to get wider as we drove down towards the
river to cross the famous Tyne Bridge. Then past the shopping centres in
the middle of the city until we reached the theatre. We would
all pile out of the bus and be ushered into the theatre where the
pantomime was held and be given sweets and chocolates before we sat down
to enjoy the pantomime.
After the pantomime we all got back on the bus and one of the Masters
would begin a singsong and we would all join in and sing songs, all the
way back to Shotley Park.
Usually just before and after Christmas we would go on quite a few
Christmas trips to see shows and pantomimes laid on by the factories in
and around Newcastle. One of these shows we went to every year and I can
remember it clearly it was at Gateshead a part of Newcastle. The
workers at an ordinance factory invited us every year to a show that they
put on for us. There would be Comedians, Singers, Dancers, just about
everything that a show consisted off, put on especially for us. There was
one particular show called the Gang Show, they were really great and still
stick in my mind even today. After each of these pantomimes we would be
showered with all sorts of small presents and plenty of sweets and
chocolates again.
Every year at Xmas we were invited to an enormously great estate called
Slatly Hall. The owner was a very rich man, he was said to have been an ex
Major in the army. The estate lay on the road to Hexam out in the country
side, on the way to the Yorkshire Moors. He paid for the buses that
transported us to his beautiful estate.
There were thick woodlands and many ponds, rivers and streams surrounding
his enormous lavish stately home which he allowed us to explore and play
in, but first we would be invited inside his home where he had organised a
show and a small Xmas party for us all. When it was time to leave and
return to Shotley he would give each and every one of us a brand new shiny
Half Crown Piece, which was a lot of money in those days, at least for us.
I was generally a bit overawed by him because he seemed to me to be so
enormously rich, generous, aloof and powerful.
Spring 1951
When the snow and icy winter left Shotley Park and Spring at last came,
the trees and bushes would start to sprout their leaves in the dell and
woodland surrounding our home, and the spring flowers would start to
appear in the gardens. It was also the time when the animal life, birds,
rabbits, squirrels etc. returned in great numbers to the woods. The many
different species of birds that lived there started building their nests
and laying their eggs during this period. Collecting birds eggs was a
popular pastime for us therefore this was the time when us boys and a
couple of the girls started to look for eggs, for our egg collections. The
most common eggs to get were the Black Crows, the only problem was that
they laid their eggs in nests high above in the highest trees in the
woods. This meant to get Crows eggs, we had to clime to the top of these
trees put the egg in our mouths and clime down again, hoping that we
didn’t slip and catch our mouth on a branch which could, and did
occasionally break the egg inside our mouths. When we had climbed far
enough down the tree, a couple of the boys would hold out a large piece of
cloth and we the climbers would take the eggs out of our mouth and drop
them into the cloth, then we would clime up the tree again for more Crows
eggs. Thrushes eggs were also quite common to find, they made their nests
in the lower bushes and shrubs and the wild chickens laid theirs in the
meadows and grasslands near the stream. There was an abundance of various
birds living in the woods around our home and the idea was to get as many
different types of eggs from as many different species as possible.
When we had collected the eggs from the nests, we would prick two little
holes, one at the top of the egg and one at the bottom and then blow out
all the contents inside and put the egg into our collections, which we
would proudly show of to each other. However there came a time when I was
a little older that I got a conscience about this, and I started to think
about all the little birds that we were killing and suddenly I couldn’t do
it any more, so I stopped collecting birds eggs.
The stream in the woods lay in a small deep valley which we called the
dell. This stream at the bottom of the dell on our grounds ran into the
River Derwent that flowed at the bottom of the large valley just outside
of the grounds of Shotley Park on the other side of the bottom main road.
Sometimes we would sneak out of the grounds cross the bottom road and go
down to the River Derwent to play. A little way up along the river towards
the village of Shotley Bridge was a large Gas works, where coal was
roasted, to make gas for the surrounding area. (At nighttimes this and the
Consett Steel works would light up the heavens at night. I often could see
looking through my dormitory window when I couldn’t sleep, the sky turn
red when the blast furnaces were burning at Consett or the red hot coal
which had been turned into coke was pushed out of the fires at the Gas
works at Shotley Bridge).
There were always pieces of junk that we could play with around the Gas
works, we generally looked for big lids from large cans of paint, when we
found one we would get some large stones put them on the ground next to
the river, form them into a small circle so that the lid would fit neatly
across, then we would get some paper and wood, put them inside the stone
circle and light a fire. Then we put the large can lid onto the fire and
wait until the lid was red hot, when it was red hot we would get all the
worms that we had collected by the river and put them on the red hot tin
lid and watch the worms sizzle away.
One of the boys his nickname name was Tichy, had this thing about weasels
he hated them. Whenever he could catch a weasel he would kill it, but not
in the normal way, he would first find a deep enough part of the river,
measure how deep it was, then he would get a piece of string and tie it
onto the back legs of the weasel, tie the other end of the string onto a
large stone measuring the length of the string exactly between the weasels
back legs and the stone. Then he would throw the weasel and the stone
together into the river so that the weasels mouth was about two inches
below the water line and watch it die of drowning, he always got a kick
out of this. Looking back on all this we obviously all had our little bit
of cruelty in us, but as kids in those times we never saw it that way.
When we got bored of swimming in the River Derwent, we would walk along
the embankment of the river towards the village, looking for rubber
Johnny’s in the riverbank or in the bushes and reeds where a few got stuck
when older people through them away. We would fish them out, and collect
as many of them as possible, which was always a lot in those days. Then
we’d fill the rubber Johnny’s with water, it was amazing how much water
went into those things without bursting.
When we had collected enough, we'd walk along the riverside towards the
old stone bridge in the village, there we would climb up the embankment
with our water filled rubber Johnny’s and drop them of the bridge using
them as water bombs. Some of the braver kids would smuggle them into the
home and use them there as bombs in the courtyard at the back of the home.
Some even took them to school, but who-betide any of us who got caught.
Other times we would find some old bicycle frames and bicycle wheels that
people had thrown away, we would take them back to Shotley Park and try to
assemble them, sometimes with the Masters help.
We generally got these bicycles to work, there were no brakes on these
bicycles, just an old frame, two wheels with a lot of the spokes gone, no
tyres, just a chain and if possible a bicycle seat, no foot-peddles, just
a piece of iron sticking out which we used to peddle the bikes with.
When we got them fixed up, we would go up the hill that led into the back
stable yard at the back of the home and then come flying down again on
these bicycles with no brakes or tyres.
The trick was, how to stop the bikes before we crashed into a Stable wall
at the bottom of the hill, to do this we would put our feet between the
frame of the bikes and the back wheel, push the sole of our shoes against
the rim of the wheel and the bikes would brake. The only trouble was, if
we were to misjudge the area between the frame and the wheel, our feet
would go between the spokes and we had a good chance of loosing a few
toes, luckily I never heard of this happening to anybody. What did happen
occasionally was, I would try to peddle my bike up the hill and the chain
would slip, because these bikes were nearly always men’s bikes, when the
chain slipped while trying to peddle up the hill I'd crush my testicles on
the metal tube that went across the frame, which was very painful indeed.
I did damage myself badly on one of these bikes once, it was a woman’s
bike, with no crossbar. I was peddling up the hill in a standing position
when the chain slipped, my right leg slid down the outside of the metal
piece of peddle, cut into the lower leg on the inside of my shin, cutting
me all the way through to the bone. It was strange looking at it because
there was hardly any blood at first and I could see the whiteness of my
own bone. I rushed inside and one of the Matrons took me to the sickbay
where I was bandaged up and a couple of days later I was bicycling again.
I couldn’t let the others think I was a sissy.
Doves and Pigeons, pet Mice, Hamsters and pet Rabbits all these types of
pets we were allowed to keep if we wanted to, we usually bought them of
one another or bought them in a pet shop in Consett from our pocket money.
At some time or other I´d had all these pets, but Pigeons and Doves were
my favourites. At the back of the home near the stables slightly up the
hill was a little piece of ground next to the orchard garden wall, here we
were allowed to make a pigeon hut out of wood and wire meshing, our pet
rabbits were kept in this area as well. We each made our own little rabbit
hut and fenced of a little plot of ground where the rabbits could run
around in. The pet mice and Hamsters we kept in our dormitories, a sign
that things had become a lot more lenient since the old headmaster Mr
Hillman had left, and the new headmaster Mr Lemon had arrived.
The only problem with Pigeons and Doves was that they had to be homed and
that could take a long time. If we let them fly freely too early they
would fly back to their former owners, so we had to take great care not to
let them fly free to soon. Once they were homed I had great pleasure
playing with them, it was wonderful to see them all fly of together,
circle around a few times in the air, and then take off. About an hour
later they would all come back, first circling in the air above the home
and then landing into and on top of the Pigeon hut.
Another favourite pastime for the more daring, was building wooden huts in
trees and under the ground in the woods. In the woods we would look for a
suitable tree with thick branches close together where we could put a few
planks across. I can’t remember where we got the old planks from, but we
would get hold of a few rusty nails, and nailed the planks across the
branches to make a floor for these huts, up in the trees. Then we’d find
some old sackings, usually from coal sacks to cover the roof and sides,
after which we’d cover the whole lot with leaves and branches.
I fell out of one of these huts once when the planks gave way, I landed
flat on my back but luckily the hut wasn’t too high above the ground,
however the landing on my back winded me so much that it took a couple of
minutes before I could breath again and the thought of what could of
happened, scared me a bit. After this fall I started to build my huts
under the ground. To build a hut under the ground, we’d first dig
out a shallow area of ground about the size of two graves, lay the planks
on top, cover them with leaves and ferns leaving a small opening to crawl
into which could be covered from the inside. These we would use as our
secret dens where we could hide, we’d have things like candles or torches
in these dens so that we could stay in them for hours if we wanted to.
Why I was sent to
Barnardo's
I remember I had only been in Shotley Park for about three months when one
of the Matrons told me that my Mother was coming to visit me. I got all
excited about this because I thought that she was coming to take me back
home to Liverpool, but she never turned up. The Matrons never told me why
she never came and I was very disappointed when they told me she wasn’t
coming. In 1951, my Mother wrote to me to me to let me know that she
was leaving Liverpool, to live in Australia and that as soon as she got
settled there she would send for me, but she never did.
It was around this time that one of my friends at Shotley Park who’s
(nickname) was “Jamer”, Jamer Jackson, asked me why I was put into the
homes. Nicknames were given to all of us. We had a Tichy, because he was
small, a Stinky, because he always stunk, a Buckteeth, he had protruding
teeth, a Hopperlong, who had a withered leg, a Whitey, because he had pure
white hair, and so on and so on.
My nickname was Dixie, the same name as the one that the crowds of people
walking down our street on a Saturday afternoon in Liverpool used to call
me, only now I knew why everybody called me Dixie, it was because there
was a famous footballer called Dixie Dean, he used to play for Everton in
Liverpool, because my name is Deane every one called me Dixie, although
later I was also occasionally to be called the Brown Bommer because I was
soon to be a good athletic sprinter.
I'd also learnt, now that I was a bit older, that all those men that I
used to watch walking down our street in Liverpool on a Saturday
afternoon, were going to a football match at the Liverpool Football
Stadium, and that this Stadium, was at the bottom of our street where I
used to live with my Mother.
Generally speaking we never asked each other why we were put into the
homes, I think that a lot of the kids just thought that they were orphans
and that their parents had died when they were young. Those of us
who knew our Parents, thought that we wouldn’t be there that long, we
expected our Parents to come and take us away one day, at least I always
did. I told my friend I didn’t no why my Mother had put me in
Barnardo's. He then told me, that just before I arrived at Shotley
Park, all the children had to go into the Ballroom and the headmaster told
them that a coloured boy was coming and that they all had to respect me
and were not to call me any names.
I said to him, what for names. He said names like blacky and such. I
said to him, should have that have bothered me then, he said he didn’t
know, only that the Headmaster had said that they were not to use these
types of words to me. He then told me, that none of them had ever
seen a coloured person before I arrived, and that he, and all the other
children expected me to have a bone between my nose, wear only a loin
cloth and have a shield with a spear. I laughed, and said what ever
gave them that idea, he said because everyone thought that I was coming
from Africa, not Liverpool. He asked me if I had any brothers or
sisters, when I told him that I had one of each, he asked why, I was sent
to Barnardo's and not them.
I had always thought that I had done something wrong at home, and that was
the reason why I had been sent to Barnardo's, so I told him this. He
then asked me if my brother and sister were the same colour as me, I said
no, they were both the same colour as he was. Your Mother and Father
are they both the same colour as me, he asked. I explained to him, that I
never saw my father very much because he was always at sea with the
Merchant Navy, but I knew that both my Father and my Mother were the same
colour as he was. They’re both white, and your Brother and Sister
are both white, yes I said. Then that’s the reason you are in Barnardo's he
said. It was then that I realised that the person who I had always
thought was my Father was not my Father, he couldn’t be, my father had to
be somebody else.
I went to see one of the Matrons about this, a Mrs. Gibson, and I told her
what I now knew, her explanation was, that my real father was dead and my
Mother had married again. That my Sister and Brother where in fact, my
half Brother and Sister. The person who I had thought was my Father, was
in fact my Step-Father who couldn’t afford to keep me, that was the reason
why my Mother had put me in the homes and once she, my Mother had settled
down in Australia she would send for me. I'd never given it much
thought that I was coloured in those days, there was no reason to. I
obviously knew that I was different and quite liked it, but I saw this
from the same point of view as the kid with the buckteeth, or the little
kid called Tichy, or the guy with the withered leg nicknamed Hopperlong.
We all had our little physical differences but nobody give it any further
thought, that’s the way it was and that was that. Everybody respected
everyone else, we were all the same and we all would fight for our own
little corner.
Nobody bothered the kid with the withered leg with the metal support
around it, if anyone messed about with him he would pick up his leg with
his right hand and wallop you with it, he had a real mean streak in him
and if he hit you with that withered metal covered leg, you felt it.
Naturally some of us could fight better than others and I was getting
really good at fighting, but we all respected and came up for each other,
especially against the kids from the outside.
I personally never came across any discrimination of any kind the whole
time that I was in the homes and once I'd established myself as having a
reputation as a good fighter, not to be messed about with, I never had any
problems at Leadgate School anymore either. In fact suddenly I became very
popular, respected and well liked amongst the other children. I did still
seem to have a problem with some of the school teachers though, which was
something I couldn’t work out at first, but I was eventually to realise
why. Later when I got older, if any of the new boys that came to
Shotley Park got into trouble with other kids at Leadgate School, they
would tell their tormentors they are going to get Dixie. When I showed up
all the outside kids would run away, scared stiff that I was going to put
them into a boiling pot, cook them and eat them. I always had a good
chuckle about this.
Girls and Boys and
Puppy love
Shotley Park was a mixed home of both boys and girls, and when I was young
I saw the girls the same way as the rest of the boys of my age, as
sissy’s. However at around the age of 10 and 11, I started to see
the girls from a different viewpoint and I started to become interested in
them in a rather different way than I'd expected. One of them effected me
in such a way, that I couldn’t sleep at nights anymore without thinking
about her.
We had, at that time, this strange system of approaching a girl to ask her
if she would be our girl friend. We the boys, would first have to get hold
of a bus ticket where all the serial numbers had to add up to 21. When we
had a ticket with these magical numbers, we would then give it to the girl
we thought we were in love with, this would have to be done in a secretive
way, so that none of the other boys knew, to save embarrassment if she
turned you down. If she tore the ticket in half, and gave half of it
back to you, then this meant that she would be your girl friend and only
the two of you knew about it. If she didn’t give you half of the
ticket back, then you knew that she had turned you down and that she would
make sure that everyone else knew that she'd turned you down, which could
be so embarrassing that it was worse than getting six of the best from the
headmaster.
One day, I got hold of a bus ticket where the serial numbers added up to
21, I plucked up all the courage I could muster and gave it to her. My
heart nearly stopped when she looked and counted the numbers then to my
relief, she tore it in half and gave the other half back to me. I now had
my official first girlfriend, all I had to do now, was keep it a secret
because if any of my friends found out, I'd be considered a sissy.
Now that I had a girlfriend the question was what was I going to do, the
excitement of knowing whether she liked me or not, was now gone. I
couldn’t walk about hand in hand with her or all my friends would laugh at
me and call me stupid names, and it was difficult to meet her so that we
could talk alone. So I just left it as it was, she was my girlfriend and
that was that, as far as I can remember we never did break it of.
Occasionally older courting couples would come onto our grounds looking
for a place of solitude in the woods and dens especially at the weekends.
We kids would see this as intrusion of our playing grounds so we were
always on the lookout. Often we would notice a courting couple walking
along the path through the woods looking for a place to snog, they would
never see us, but we saw them. We would wait until they had settled down
on the ground, usually behind a big tree and first we would just spy on
them. When we thought the time was right we would start to call out to
each other using Indian calls which we had learnt from the Saturday
matinee cowboy and Indian films. At first one of us would use one Indian
call wait 30 seconds and then another of us would call back just to see
how the courting couple would react. We would then wait awhile and then
call out again, using the same Indian call. After a while the man usually
started to get a bit frustrated and would take a look around, but we were
so well hidden we’d be impossible to see. As he was not so sure what the
noise was he would quickly lay down on the ground next to his girl again
hoping he hadn’t spoilt the moment. We would then leave them for a time
until we’d decided that the moment was right, then we all would start to
call out Indian calls together, all around them, it was then that all hell
would break loose. The girl would stand up and straighten out her dress
and angrily tell her partner that she wanted to leave, the man would be on
his feet pulling his trousers up and putting on his shoes, cursing,
swearing and shouting what he was going to do to us if he ever got hold of
us, but we would be sniggering and laughing in triumph, as we watched them
storming out of our woods and grounds knowing that they would never come
back again.
Sports and other
activities
A new headmaster came to Shotley Park in 1951 and things started to get
better, the discipline in the home started to ease a bit, the old things
like having to eat everything that was served whether you liked it or not
was dropped, it didn’t mean that we only got what we liked but at least we
were not forced to eat all the food that we didn’t like anymore. Caning,
as a punishment for things that we did wrong was lessened, and other
punishments were introduced, such as a reduction of our pocket money or
having to go to bed earlier, cleaning up the outside area of the home or
having to do the washing up after meals etc. etc.
New types of matrons and masters came who took more interest in sports and
other activities for us. A Clubs and Scout group was formed in the home
for those that wanted to join, I joined both, first the Cubs and later
when I was older the Scouts, I enjoyed them both and learnt a great deal
while I was in them. One year when I was in the Scouts we were dropped of
on the Yorkshire Moors for a week with small bivouac tents, food, mostly
in tin cans, a map and compass. We then had to walk and find our way to an
area that was marked out on the map, sleep on the moors, make our own
food, toilets and washing areas without any help from the masters. We
joined the main group the second week and had our own small jamboree and
competitions to see which was the best Scouts group. At night we all sat
around a camp fire singing and listening to ghost stories that weren’t
much help on the Yorkshire Moors at night.
Athletics became popular at the home because an athletics Competition was
to be held in Eastbourne of all the Barnardo homes of Great Britain. The
first Competition was between the homes in Northern England the winners of
these would then go down to Eastbourne. I was put into the 100 and 200
yards sprints of my age group and I was surprised that I won them both
quite easily, so I was sent with the rest of our team from Shotley, to
Eastbourne.
The trip down south to Eastbourne was an adventure for us lucky ones that
were able to go. A bus collected us at the home and took us to the
Newcastle Railway Station where we caught the train down to London, a five
hour trip. Then we had to catch another train which took us further south
to Eastbourne. York a city that our train passed through fascinated me
most in those days. I would watch in amazement at all the tanks that were
lined up close to the railway lines on the outside of the city, rows upon
rows of them which seemed to go on for ever, I wondered what they where
going to do with them all. The Korean war was going on at this time so we
all thought that they were going to use them there. We all knew enough
about wars in those days even though we were so young, the second world
war had not so long ago finished and now there was a new war being fought
in a far away place called Korea. National Service was well known to us
and looking at all these rows upon rows of tanks was scary. I always had
this fear even in those days, that when I left Barnardo's I would get
called up into the Army and get killed in some far of country and nobody
would know or ever remember me, I think a lot of us felt like that, we
often wondered what was to become of us.
Eastbourne was the first big athletics championship that I entered,
everyone at Shotley expected me to do well, what a disappointment I turned
out to be, I came last in both events. Whether nerves got to me I don’t no
but I really felt bad and a bit ashamed when we got back to Shotley Park,
I felt that I had let every one down. The masters tried to cheer me up a
bit but it took me a long time to get over it. We still had the local
Schools Athletics Championships to go for, I put myself down for the 100
and 200 yards plus the long jump but I was only able to come second in all
events. I still entered a lot of Athletics Competitions over the years and
I thoroughly enjoyed it, some I won some I lost but my main sporting
passion was to be football.
Seahouses a Fishing
Village
Once a year we would go up the north east coast in Northumberland for a
two week camping holiday near a little fishing village called Seahouses.
The homes supplied the tents and all the cooking equipment and transport.
We set up camp in a field close to the village. There were a couple of big
marquee tents, one was used for dining and the other for resting and
meetings, if the weather was bad. We had a few large round tents that
looked like the Indian tepees from the films that we saw at the cinema
which had only one entrance and room for 10 to 12 people to sleep in. All
the food was cooked on the camp site and we all joined in at keeping the
site clean, doing the washing up, cleaning out the latrines and collecting
fresh water to cook and wash with. Our beds were laid out on a tarpaulin
on the ground with a pillow and a few blankets on top, with our feet
facing the centre pole so that our heads were towards the outside edge of
the tent.
During the day if the weather was good, we went swimming in the sea that
was close by. Some of us older boys went fishing of the pier in the
fishing village, it was hear that I was to catch my first fish with
nothing more than a long piece of string and a hook and a lead weight.
There was one year that I remember particularly well when a storm came
that was so fierce that it ripped open and destroyed most of the tents. We
were stuck there in the rain and mud, all of us soaking wet until one of
the Masters got hold of the local Chaplain who let us use a large wooden
hall where we stayed, sleeping on the floors for the rest of the holiday.
Garden Fetes three Legged Races, and Guy Forks Night
Each year at Shotley Park, Garden Fetes were held on the back lawn, we had
to be on our best behaviour as a great deal of the more prominent and
professional people from the surrounding areas were invited to attend.
For us kids this meant all sorts of games and activities with plenty of
lemonade, cakes and cookies,
All sorts of competitions were laid on for us. Egg and spoon races, sack
racing, three legged races, rounder´s, treasure hunting in boxes full with
sand, trying to eat apples hanging from pieces of string without using our
arms, were a few of the activities that was laid on for us at these garden
fetes. The garden fetes would last all through the day until late in the
evening, when the last of the visitors had left we would all help to clean
everything up.
Guy forks night was always a spectacular event, an enormous bonfire would
be built on a piece of waste ground close to the farmers field at the back
of the home. In the evening when it got dark the bonfire would be lit, the
blaze and the heat that the bonfire produced was spectacular. We lit all
sorts of fireworks, rockets, roman candles, bangers, squids, etc. we also
had potatoes which we eat after roasting them in the fire. When all the
fireworks had been used up we would then all join in singing songs until
late into the night.
VISITS TO
FAMILIES ON THE OUTSIDE
All of us boys and girls had the same fantasy at Shotley Park. This was,
that one day a very nice rich couple would come and take us away and be
our foster parents or adopt us. These, would-be fantasy new parents of
ours, would have a great big house on a hill, servants, a big car and we
would be able to have everything that we asked for, holidays abroad, a
special private school and rich nice friends. These were our dreams our
hopes, it was these dreams and hopes that kept our spirits up and we never
gave up that one day our dreams would come true.
One day in 1950 a lady Mrs Dunning who lived with her family in the
village, came to Shotley Park to ask if I would like to visit them on
Sunday afternoons, I was delighted when the headmaster said that I could
go. Their house was situated at the nearest end of the village,
close to Shotley Park, in Messenger street. which meant I could walk to
her home in five to ten minutes.
Messenger Street was situated at the very end of the edge of the village,
in fact that’s all it was, one street, which seemed somehow to have been
stuck onto the end of the village. On either side of the street were
terraced houses, with their front doors leading directly onto the
pavement. The street itself was clean but a bit grimy and had a peculiar
smell about it, this was because, at the bottom of the street lay the big
gas works next to the river, where we played in the Summer.
Mrs Dunnings house was halfway down the street on the river bank side.
Inside the house when you entered through the front door was the
staircase, upstairs were two small bedrooms, downstairs to the left a very
small living room, with a very small kitchen at the back which led out
into the garden, where vegetables were grown, halfway down the garden was
the toilet. There were no toilets inside the house. At the end of
the garden, lay a small piece of waste land, which separated the house
from the river Derwent.
They had no Central heating like we had in the homes, there where no
bathrooms or wash areas in the house. If anyone needed to wash themselves,
then this had to be done in the kitchen in a large pan or metal tub, the
hot water, that was poured into the pan or tub, had first to be heated up
on the kitchen stove. There was only one coal fire in the whole
house, this was in the living room and no electric lights. Gas lights were
still used in these houses in those days, the gas was piped into the
houses from the gas works at the bottom of the road.
When it became dark Mrs Dunning or her Husband or Brother would light up
the gorsed gas lights on the ceiling in the rooms, with a long stick with
a flame at the end, which made a sort of popping noise when the gas lights
lit up. This, always fascinated me as I had never seen this done before,
Mrs. Dunnings Daughter who was about the same age as me, always used to
laugh at me because of the frightened way I looked when they were lighting
up these lights, I suppose I thought that the whole house was going to
blow up at any minute.
I visited Mrs Dunnigs home regularly, almost every Sunday, for the next
few years until I left Shotley Park for Goldings in 1955. At teatime she
used to make these fantastic home made scones and cakes for me and her
daughter, and we would scoff the lot together. Mrs Dunnings husband
and Brother worked at the smelly gas works at the bottom of the street.
Even then, although I was only 8 years old, I thought that the work that
they were doing must be terribly hard, dirty, hot and dreary. I begun to
notice that some Sundays neither of them were around, which meant that
they were either working in the gas works, or sleeping because they had
just finished work, or because they had go on the late night shift.
It was around this period that I started to think that maybe us kids in
the home at Shotley Park weren’t so bad off after all. We at least had
central heating, electricity, baths with hot and cold running water,
toilets on the inside of the house. We didn’t have to run outside into the
toilet in the freezing cold, do what you have to do, and run back inside
to warm up again afterwards. We even had toilet paper, Mrs Dunnings family
used old newspaper cuttings that left a black mark on my backside when I
used their toilets. We had plenty of space for games to play inside and
outside of the home, and later in 1951 we got our first television, I had
now started to wonder who was the worst off.
By 1952 I had been to quite a number of places, we all boys and girls used
to go on a camping holiday up at Seahouses, a fishing village along the
North East coast in Northumberland once a year. As a member of our homes
athletic team for the North East I was selected to represent Shotley Park
at the inter Barnardo's Homes Athletic Championships, which in later years
were to be held at
Barkingside London. I had already been to a few of
these places before I was eleven years old.
When I used to go and visit Mr and Mrs Dunning I always wondered if they
were really as contented with life as they seemed to be or were they just
accepting things as they were. I asked them once when I was a
bit older, which places they had visited, or been to, during their lives,
they said that the furthest they’d been to was the North Easton Seaside
resort of Whitley Bay, other than that they had spent their whole lives in
the village and surrounding areas working in the Gas Works at the bottom
of the street. They didn’t moan about it, in fact they were rather proud
that they had been that far. It was this resigned contentment that started
to worry me, even though I was still so young.
A lot of things were starting to bother me at this stage of my life, in
the North East the main Industries were Coalmining, North Sea fishing and
Shipbuilding. The first two, could be and were dangerous
occupations. How many times were we to hear on the radio of miners being
trapped down a mine due to earth movements and gas explosions, or fishing
trawlers that had gone out into the North Sea and never came back, assumed
sunk with all the crew drowned. As for shipbuilding that was just hard
work and graft, not very interesting and adventurous, at least that’s the
way I saw it.
When I was about ten years old, I started to think to myself that in 5
years, I to would be like Mrs. Dunnings Husband and Brother working in one
of those professions until I was 65 and only then, at 65 would I be free
to take a rest and collect my pension, if I lived that long.
I'd decided that life didn’t look so promising at all. It was then that
I´d made up my mind that I was going to do something about it, they would
never get me down a mine, on a fishing trawler or in a shipbuilding yard,
there had to be more to life than that.
One day a nice lady, called Mrs Scott, a widow with children of her own
who owned a boarding house in Whitely Bay a North Eastern Holiday Town,
came to the home and invited me for a holiday in the Summer of 1952.
The new headmaster Mr. Lemon, after first having the boarding house
inspected, allowed me to go. It turned out to be a summer holiday never to
be forgotten. We went to the beach, the cinema, the arcades, but best of
all was the trip we made to the famous North Eastern amusement park
Spanish City, a wonderful place for families and kids in those days.
In 195I I was given the opportunity to fulfil us kids secret fantasy of
living with a rich family that owned one of those big houses on the hill,
even if it was only for short visits, from time to time. He was a Doctor
and it was he who saved my life. I was 11 years old and had just
eaten an ice cream during the afternoon break at Leadgate School shortly
before the Summer break, when I started to get a stomach ache. After a
while the pains became so severe that I couldn’t bear it any longer and my
school teacher sent me home.
I walked back to Shotley Park where the Matron, assuming that I had only
an upset stomach, gave me some cod-liver oil and put me in bed. At 7
o’clock in the evening I started to scream like a stuck pig because of
this unbearable pain on my right side of my stomach. The Head matron was
getting worried, she tried everything to ease the pain but nothing helped,
another matron suggested that I might have appendicitis. However, because
I had already a scar on the right side of my stomach from an operation in
a Hospital in Liverpool, whilst I was still living with my Mother, the
Matrons thought that I'd had my appendix removed. I had no knowledge of
why I'd had this earlier operation, I was to young at the time to
remember, but like everyone else I'd always thought that this scar was
from an old appendix operation. The Head Matron had no direct access to my
records, they were at Barnado's
Headquarters at Stepney in London, so how
would she know.
The local village Doctor Dr. Jones was eventually called, when he came he
took one look and within minutes I was off to Hospital for an emergency
operation. Dr. Jones’s diagnoses turned out to have been correct, I did
have appendicitis, the cod-liver oil that I was given only made it worse
and the scar that I had from a previous operation was from a hernia
operation that I'd had when I was a kid. After the operation I was
put into the children’s ward where I was spoilt so much that I never
wanted to leave that hospital ever again. I got sweets, Oranges, all
kinds of fruits, old lady’s would come over to me fuzz through my hair and
give me two shillings or half a crown, I was getting to be rich and all I
had to do was lie in bed, what a life! I felt really sorry when the
day came that I had recovered sufficiently to leave the Hospital, I could
have stayed there for the rest of my life.
Later when I was fully recovered the Dr. Jones invited me to come and stay
at his house. The Doctor had two children the same age as me so we
all played together. His house and family was the kind of house and family
that all us kids in the homes dreamt about should somebody come to adopt
or foster parent us. It had central heating, beautiful bathrooms, bedrooms
and an enormous big garden. Dr. Jones wanted me to become a Doctor like
him, he was even willing to help me, but I knew that that would be an
impossibility.
A great number of people always felt sorry for us kids in the homes which
is understandable, but one of the things we all learnt from a very young
age was that sympathy, although well meant, couldn’t help us. What people
wanted to do to help, and what people could do to help, were two different
things. We knew exactly where we stood, when we reached the age of
fifteen Barnardo's found us a job and digs and then we left. The jobs were
generally, a Bakers or Butchers boy or Girl, a farm hand, a factory worker
or skivvy or anything along these lines, there was nothing else open to
us. One or two of us might be lucky and get a room as a lodger
in a family home, but normally home after Barnardo's meant digs. We knew
this, we knew of kids that had left Barnardo's and been given jobs and
lived in the area, we met them occasionally and they told us exactly what
life was like on the outside.
So when Dr Jones said, he would help me to become a Doctor, I had no
illusions that this would not be possible. Where was I going to live while
I studied, what was I going to live on, Barnardo's couldn’t do this, their
policy was as soon as we were 15 years of age we went out into the wide
world to earn our keep, they couldn’t afford to keep us any longer.
There was only one way to stay longer in Barnardo's and that was to get
ourselves sent to one of the two training schools, run in the South of
England, by Barnardo's. We knew of the tough discipline and
competitiveness of both these schools, even the Masters and Matrons warned
us about this, but after many discussions among our selves, quite a few of
us chose to go to one of these two schools, but only because it prolonged
our stay in Barnardo's.
One of the schools was called
Goldings in Hertford, there we could learn
to become a carpenter, a shoemaker, a sheet metal worker, a gardener or a
printer. If we could get to this school we could stay until we were 16 and
a half, which was the learning period for all trades except those that
became printers, they stayed until they had finished their apprenticeship
which was 21.
The other school was called
Watts which was a Cadet Navel College. Here we
could learn to become a Sailor and then join the Royal Navy, but strangely
this school never seemed to attract any of us, I can’t remember anyone
from Shotley Park ever going to
Watts.
This was then Shotley Park and here I
was to stay until 1955 then I was off to
Goldings. I have done a small
article on how I got to leave
Goldings to become one of the few ex
Goldings boy's which is on the
memories page
© James Deane (Dixie)
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This information is © James Deane 2003 - 2006 and cannot be used without
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