Jim Heath aged about 16 (c. 1930)
Some recently rediscovered hand written notes in my Grandfather's hand present a glimpse into a North Staffordshire childhood that may be of interest to some members of this page.
Some of the recollections may be 'false memories' reinforced over years of retelling (i.e. the Zepplin raid over the area that saw my Great Grandfather return from Knutton forge to carry the youngsters down into a cellar. To the best of my knowledge there were only a couple of Zepplin raids over the area, the latest being in November 1916 when my Grandfather would have been at the ripe old age of 26 months!).
Nevertheless, the detail in his recollections is of great interest to me as his relatives are named as well as local streets and shops in the area. As I am also now looking into my families pre-war life.
So here is the account of a Silverdale/Knutton childhood in his own words:
'I was born at No. 10 Arthur Street, Knutton, which was in the Parish of Silverdale (which we called ‘Jam Land’), Knutton was called ‘The Banana Docks’. My parents were Robert Heath and Mary Anne Lloyd. My Father called Mother Polly. My Father came from Oakengates, Shropshire, my mother was Welsh but I do not know her place of birth, I imagine that it must have been somewhere near to Shropshire.
They were married at Etruria Church near the park there. I imagine Mother went to live at Etruria, because her sister and brother lived there. They were my Aunt Sally and Uncle Tom. Aunt Sally married Dick Creber and they lived in Sefton Street. Uncle Tom lived on the main road going into Hanley next door to a pawnshop. I did not know Mother’s Mother or Father or anyone else of her family. For a special treat my Mother used to take me by tram to see Uncle Tom and Aunt Sally.
My Father I understand had rather a big family. Those I can remember are Uncle Charlie who lived in the Ashfields, Newcastle-under-Lyme , Aunt Gladys who had a shop in Waterloo Building, Newcastle. She was married to a Hartshorn, Uncle George whom I met for the first time at my Dad’s funeral. With him was his son Arthur. Another brother was a Fruiterer, I remember him for his large hands. I believe he lived in Queen Anne Street, Stoke. There was a butchers in Newcastle, James Heath, I used to go there with a note. He always referred to my Mother as Polly, tell Polly this, tell Polly that. I almost forgot, my Mum/Dad? must have had another sister, my Aunt Lydia. She was married to Billy Price, he was a copper in the Newcastle Police Force. They lived in Victoria Road, Chesterton and kept a fish and chip shop. Billy was transferred elsewhere when he was reported for taking a drink on Xmas Eve on his way home, he understood that if you take your helmet off you’re not on duty. That is about as many of my relations that I know about.
As you know, I was born in 1914, that was the beginning of World War One. They were hard times. My Father was a plate-mill roller at Knutton Forge at the bottom of the Street. When the airships came over bombing they used to dampen the furnaces off and Dad used to come home and take us down the cellar until the ‘All Clear’. I remember well the Zeppelins dropping round, white cards.
Times were bad but we enjoyed it. We would get free clogs, we would go to school then onto the Y.M.C.A. for our meals. At night we would take a basin or a jug and get hot soup and bread from the Methodist Chapel, it was smashing.
During the Coal Strike of 1926 we used to do alright as well, we would all go out cropping, digging coal out of the open ground. Being only 12, I had to fetch the coal home on a Bone-Shaker (a bike with no tyres or inner tubes, no brakes, no chain, it was fun). It was stacked in front of the house and we sold it for 2/6 a bag. A certain Head Master bought 10 bags. We dumped them in the road outside his house, then I knocked on his door and asked if I could get his coal in for him and he gave me another 2/6.
Market days in Newcastle are on Mondays and Saturdays and I got a job on a shoe stall selling then for 4/11 a pair. I got 2/6 a day, on my way home I would take Mam fish and chips and a bar of Frye’s Cream Chocolate. She would eat her fish and chips and then if there were any crisp ones she would give them to me. On my way home one night, as I was hungry, I thought that I’d look see if there are any crisp ones, I found more crisp ones than I should because mam said “ There’s not many chips tonight”.
Behind our houses there was a large field and Farmer Lowe plants every year, potatoes, carrots, turnips (Chonnocks as we called them). Each night all of us boys would go and get what we wanted and take them in the Steel Works and sit in a square shaped Ash-Hole, eat our Chonnocks while the potatoes roasted.
Meanwhile one of the workers would come and ask if you would go down the pub, fetch him a pint and he would see you on Friday pay day. On Friday, you would see about ten of us waiting for the men that we had done favours for. People were on nights, we used to come and fetch their wages. One named Looky Barlow came all dressed up with a watch in his waistcoat, every Friday the same. We would ask what time it is. Looky, he would take it out, look at it, then he would say “T’ain’t mine, it’s our kids”, meaning his brother’s.
Mam never bought sweets for us, she made her own, treacle and coconut toffee allsorts. It was so good, all the kids in the street came to the door for half-pennies worth of toffee. Mam got so fed up, she decided to turn the front room into a shop, that was the worst thing that could have happened to us as it is so much hard work stirring that toffee over a large fire, I dreaded it.
One job I did like was going to Wiltshaw’s on Liverpool Road, Newcastle to fetch the cakes. We used to have a lot of vanilla slices and when we got home she always used to give me one.
We have had our bad times as well. Arthur, my eldest brother, was a miner at Kent’s Lane. Silverdale. He was a good goalkeeper, he had a trial for Port Vale on Wednesday and was supposed to play his first game the following Saturday, but he was killed on Friday night in a fall at the pit. Bang went my sixpence a week pocket money for keeping his football boots clean. Then my Mother died with heart failure and dropsy. For the funeral I had my first suit. My father employed a man for 21 years just fetching beer for him and his gang. The Steel Works closed and my Father never went into a pub again. Instead, one of us had to fetch him 3 pints before they went out and be back in time enough to fetch 3 more before they closed.
I went to work on a Brick Yard making bricks for pits. Then I went into the bakery delivering bread. I never had any pocket money, all I used to get was tips from my customers.
Then I decided to leave home and I came to Sussex in 1936.'
Jim Heath and June Griffiths pictured shortly before their wedding
(Brighton 1936)
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