War Baby ......... stories by Eddy Newport no 27 .... 1956

1956 was the year I started at OPC and my social life was running much as before. 

Chris Barber and band, 1957

Steve Searl, Ron Devlin and Bob Taylor had secured apprenticeships in various firms and we still kept in touch with each other.

Bob and Ron had bought guitars and were trying to learn to play them. Skiffle had become very popular by then due to a hit song by Lonnie Donegan whose “Rock Island Line” had become a number one bestseller and was topping  the charts.

Lonnie Donegan was the banjo player of a traditional jazz band run by Chris Barber.

They produced an LP with a number of regular jazz tunes and had some space to add more music, so the story goes, Lonnie who sang American folk and blues songs with the band, had the chance to record a few fillers to go onto the LP.

During a break in recording Lonnie played guitar Chris played bass and a friend of the band was jazz singer Beryl Bryden who happened to have a washboard with her (this was played with thimbles on fingers running up and down on the serrated surface of the washboard thus producing the rhythm) and they recorded two songs “Rock Island Line” and “John Henry”.

This LP (long player) became a hit and it was soon realised that Lonnie’s tunes were the most popular. These two songs were released as a single and shot Lonnie Donegan to fame and fortune in his own right. The effect it had on a my generation of boys and girls who had been brought up on a diet of full band arrangements, ballad singers  and boring dance music was immense .

Rock and Roll had given us own musical identification and Skiffle was to give us the ability to be able to get involved ourselves and have a go at playing it.

Skiffle groups were being formed all over the country. All you had to do was learn three chords on a guitar and be able to sing in tune and if all the group members joined in a passable sound was produced. One problem that had to be overcome was the need for a bass. This was solved by getting a large tea chest which was a plywood square box about two foot by two foot, drilling a hole in the middle of one of its sides and with a stout piece of string secured in the hole and the other end to the end of a broom handle a reasonable note could be obtained.

You had to put one foot on the top of the chest and with one hand keeping the string taut by pulling back the broom handle and plucking the string a bass note was produced. Of course, a washboard was an essential part of the sound too. Washboard were hard to find as washing machines were becoming used more in homes and the old fashioned washboard was being thrown out with the rubbish.

my first drum kit

It was suggested that I would play the washboard (if I could find one) and Steve could play the tea chest bass. I did find one but it was made of glass and not suitable. However, I did manage to get an old banjo. I took off all the strings and with a pair of drum brushes; I produced a passable rhythm by tapping the banjo skin.

We would all meet at Bob’s house and in his bedroom; we would attempt to play some skiffle music.
Tim Leonard and I were becoming firm friends and I meet up with him in the evening and weekends. He lived with his mum, dad and sister.

His sister had been the head girl at the Gordon School. Tim also had a love of music and liked modern jazz. He was taking lessons on the clarinet and the tenor saxophone.

He liked to listen to Ronnie Scott, Tubby Hayes, and American sax players such as Zoot Sims and Stan Getz. I was not too enthused about this style of music, as I was more into the traditional style as played by Louis Armstrong and Chris Barber. Cont:-

Another in the series by Eddy Newport taken from his book, History of a War Baby.

© Eddy Newport 2017

Pictures; Chris Barber;(trombone); Monty Sunshine (klarinet); Eddie Smith (banjo); Dick Smith (bas); Ron Bowden (drums); Ottilie Patterson (zang), 1957, Joop van Bilsen (ANEFO)from GaHetNa (Nationaal Archief NL, Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license and others from the collection of Eddy Newport

Pizza, pesto and a trip up country ........... getting closer to my Canadian history

Until recently I had no idea just how deeply my family’s past was linked to Canada.

Our connections with Germany and Italy were pretty straightforward but the Canadian side rested on a few stories of my great aunt Dolly who crossed the Atlantic in 1925.

Of course if I had thought hard enough it would have been obvious that a fair few of the family would have chanced their arm and started a new life on the other side of the world.

After all with an empire upon which the sun never set there were plenty of open spaces.*

I knew about Uncle Charles who had gone out to East Africa and later India in the 1930s and pretty much never came back but was totally unprepared for the rest.

These included the brother of our great grandfather who had slipped off to New Zealand before settling in Australia the relative who had plied the high seas as a ships engineer and great grandfather Montague who in the course of serving in the old Queen’s army had seen the sun rise in the West Indies, idled his spare time in Gibraltar and spent three years in South Arica.

All of which could be the story of many British families but what I never expected was the great uncle migrated to Canada in the spring of 1914 by the Derby Poor Law Guardians because my great grandmother “was incapable of caring” for him and his siblings which included my granddad and great aunt Dolly.

Once established he persuaded Dolly to join him which she did but in her own words not “fancying the open wilderness of the far west” she settled in Ontario got married and that is how we now have an extensive Canadian family who in turn can draw on French and British settlers from the late 18th century along with a Mr and Mrs Pember who set out from Salford in the 1840s and never looked back.

And in the winter of 2015our Saul wass there in Ontario,.

He did the tourist bit of visiting New York, Memphis and Texas before making the 36 hour bus journey north from New Orleans to Ontario crossing the border at 6 am on a cold Saturday morning and has spent the last week with our cousins.

During that week he met more of the family, saw some stunning countryside and in return dished up homemade pizza and pesto and in the process brought all of us a lot closer.

All of which could be a prelude to a shed load of family stories but instead it will just be a thank you to Chris and Andrea and their two sons for making him so welcome and to our  Jac who sent me the first picture of them all together.

Andrea has more photographs ready to send but for now that’s it.



Pictures; a meal and the landscape of Ontario from the collection of Saul Simpson

*Possibly according to one American journalist because God didn’t trust the British and so wanted to always be able to see what we were doing.

Why did the Derby Poor Law Guardians lose grandad's place of birth?

Beware what you wish for is one of those warnings I have never really understood.

William Henry Hall, circa 1930

But then I have never really made that many wishes and likewise have never really been one for planning out my life.

For me it’s about bumping along which some would suggest betokens a lack of ambition but on the other hand means I am rarely disappointed.

And in the same way I have not got over upset about the discoveries I have made about our family history.

There have been the usual ups and downs, from unemployment, sudden and early deaths to some surprising achievements and along the way a few born out of wedlock,  a couple of rogues and a lot of ordinary people who lived out their lives against the great events of the last three centuries.

But just occasionally I have been brought up sharp, like the time I discovered a relative who had committed suicide.  It had been one of those fairly routine exercises in tracking him down and sending for his death certificate only to be confronted with the evidence of a horrible death and a sense that I was somehow intruding into someone’s private life.

And today has been another of those moments.

I knew that my grandfather and his siblings had been brought up in care and that eventually one would be dispatched to a naval training camp, another to Canada as a British Home Child, the eldest apprenticed to a blacksmith and great aunt Dolly into domestic service.

Laura Isadora Pember nee Hall, 1968 

What I was not prepared for and what has saddened me is that the entry in the census returns for all three while in foster homes listing their places of birth "as unknown."

And yet the documentary evidence is all there.

Great uncle Jack was born in Bedford my grandfather and great uncle Roger in different parts of Birmingham and great aunt Dolly in the Derby Workhouse.

Which leaves me with that simple question of why were their places of birth unknown?

It might have been the policy of the Guardians to omit such information which looks to be the case given that none of the youngsters in either foster home has a place of birth beside their name.

And I certainly don’t think it was because the information was not out there.  My great uncle Roger was 13 in 1911 and must have known where he had been born and likewise it beggars belief that the authorities didn’t know where great aunt Dolly had been born given that it was in their own hospital.

Now I know that their mother way well have been unable to help. I had long suspected that her grip on reality was light.

After a brief spell of looking after them in 1913 she was judged  to be “unfit to have control” and the younger three were taken back into care, and later in 1939 she was in the Borough Mental Hospital where she died in 1963.

But I still find it hard that the children were listed as such.

Great aunt Dolly was well aware of where all of them had been born and said so in a letter she wrote in the 1970s and I suspect so did the others.

It is true that later great uncle Roger would tell the Canadian army that he was born in Derby but he also listed as his next of kin his aunt rather than his mother which would suggest a deliberate decision to muddy the waters which given that he was running would fit with him also lying about his age and changing his name.

It is all a long time ago and all of the children are now dead but I am more than a little angry that such a vital piece if information as their place of birth was never recorded.

Location; Derby

Pictures; William Henry Hall, born 1899,  Laura Isadora Pember nee Hall born 1902, and John Nelson, Montague Hall, born 1896,  from the Pember and Simpson collections.

Passing the time ............... early evening on the beach

An occasional series of pictures of people and places.

Location; Alghero, Sardinia, Italy

Pictures; People & Places Alghero, Sardinia, Italy, 2012 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

War Baby ......... stories by Eddy Newport no 26 ....

Another in the series by Eddy Newport taken from his book, History of a War Baby.

Ted went to war, in the same way, as his dad David went to war in 1914. This was to set up a line of defence with trenches to stop the enemy advancing.

The history of the war is well documented and I am no historian. Ted’s involvement was that his regiment got as far as Belgium before it was realised that the foe was far better equipped that the British forces were.  Ted did get to dig his field hospital.

As he was getting ready for action and his platoon were doing their stuff, when the order came down to abandon everything and get back to the coast and head for Dunkirk as soon as possible.

He and his men were responsible for some wounded and they had to be stretchered back over a canal bridge as quickly as they can, as they were going to blow it up.

Dad said in later life that an officer was decorated with a gallantry medal as being the last soldier to defend this bridge and being the last one back over it. Dad always maintained he and his group were, in fact, the last ones over that bridge.

So the rush back to the coast began and the army was in disarray with many units breaking up. Ted and his men were on their own. His wounded were taken off by trucks or ambulances but the poor old foot soldier had to make do with what he could find.

It was at this time that Ted fired a gun in anger. The story goes that an officer commandeered Ted and his men. He gave him the order to use an anti-tank rifle and to take up a position at a corner of a street and then wait for a German tank to poke its nose round the corner.

Ted’s job was to fire around at it to make it stop and hold it up for a few minutes to delay the advance. The effect on the tank with this weapon was like firing a pea shooter at a brick wall but it seemed to work. I asked dad what he did next. He said he took out the bolt, through away the gun and ran like bloody hell.


Another incident happened on the way back to Dunkirk. He and his men were running across a field and he came under mortar fire. Ted’s running for cover managed to lose his glasses and he stopped to try and find them. His mate Geoff Burchill asked what the hell are you doing and told him in no uncertain way to get a move on.

Ted had a spare pair in his pack, but it did not occur to him at the time.  On another occasion, he was approached by a French man who having seen Ted’s medical badges on his uniform asked to go to his farm house and his wife was in the late stages of childbirth. Ted did not have any experience of this but got things going with hot water and was about to do his best when a medical officer arrived and took over and told

Ted to get back with his men and keep going back to the coast. He always wanted to know what the lady had but never found out.

Ducking and diving into ditches to avoid the German air force that were doing their best to destroy them.


They managed to find Dunkirk beaches at last. He then joined the queues to the boats that were waiting to take them back to England.

At last, he managed to get on board a navy ship. Stripping himself of all his packs and making himself comfortable on the deck, he prepared for the journey home. When a German bomber came over and dropped a bomb straight down the funnel and exploded. The next thing Ted knew was he was in the water and trying to swim for his life. Ted was not a good swimmer and the fact he was not weighted down with his packs saved his life.

Dad said he did not know how long he was in the water but a French man grabbed him and got him to the beach. I ask dad about this incident and questioned him what he did next. Can you imagine, Ted was soaking wet with no pack or equipment.

He said he looked around and found a lorry with some uniforms in and put on a dry uniform. He later found a helmet and rifle from a dead soldier. Having kitted himself out, he once more joined the queue back to the boats. Queuing was a dangerous business as German planes were bombing and shooting up the beaches. On one occasion instead of running to the sand dunes for cover he just lay down where he was and a bomb exploded close to him.

Unharmed he got up and looked about him and realised he was on his own, so he ran as fast as he could and gained some extra yards on the queue. Eventually, he got on a smaller boat and finally got back to Dover absolutely knackered, he got onto a train going to London and once on board he fell asleep. Later he awoke to find the train had passed through London and was well on its way Cardiff. Finding himself alone he later found that the train had stopped at the Elephant and Castle and all the London soldiers got off.

No one woke Ted up and he was very upset that the train had stopped only a stones through from his home.

He could have gone home to his own bed and family.
 Eddy Newport ages one year 1941.

© Eddy Newport 2017

Pictures; from the collection of Eddy Newport

Me, a camera and bits of the City I like ..............Nu 6 Knott Mill

Now all these pictures have already appeared but that has never stopped me wanting to use them all over again to explore my City.

Location, Castlefield, Manchester












Picture; Knott Mill, 2003, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

War Baby ......... stories by Eddy Newport no 25 ....

Another in the series by Eddy Newport taken from his book, History of a War Baby.

Edie and Ted

What was I doing when all this was going, well I getting myself ready to make an entry into a war-torn world of uncertainty and confusion? Edie was expecting her first child.

Later, Hitler’s  planes started bombing London and things became very unhealthy indeed. Ted had by now moved with his regiment to Yorkshire so the army could get ready for the expected invasion of England.

Summer 1940 turned to autumn and then winter, and by this time the bombs were dropping on London in a greater intensity.

The evacuation of children and expectant mothers was underway. Grandmother Sara and her son Jim stayed in London as he was doing important factory work for the war effort.

It was decided to send Edie to Yorkshire for her confinement and to be closer to Ted.

It was November 1940. Edie 21 years old, and on her own travelled to Doncaster, hopefully, to meet Ted who would deliver her to a house in Rossington to stay with a friend’s dad he had made since he had been posted there. Ted in the meantime was out with the army on a training excise and he ask his C.O. if he could get away to meet his wife.

Unfortunately, he could not get permission, and poor Edie just had to wait at Doncaster station for over three hours before she was picked up.  She, at last, got to her destination and Ted got a telling off from the host family for not letting them know that he was unable to pick her up, as they could have made some arrangements of their own.

Eddy aged 1

On the 15th December 1940, a London boy was born a Yorkshire lad at 60 Holmes Carr Road New Rossington in the parish of Bawtry and Tickhill. I have no memory of this place. I did go back and had a look at the house many years later.

 Rossington is a mining village and just about everybody who lived there worked at the mine. Outside the village stands a beautiful church St Michaels. There I was christened Edward James Newport. Edie had a traumatic time with me. I would not stop crying and drove everybody mad. I was told I was nearly smothered to shut me up.

Edie was in a strange house with people she did not know. She had never been away from her mum and brother in all her life before and with a new baby.

It’s no wonder she was in a stressful state. The baby was reflecting his mother stress. However the bombing subsided in London and Sara was missing her daughter and grandson and wanted them to come back to London.

Eddie at 16

It worked out fine as dad was posted to Dartford and they found a maisonette in Burnham Close Dartford and moved there.  Dad was stationed there with access to his married quarters.

 Edie and Ted made friends with a man called Sid Goff and he had a son and daughter Wally and Celia.

Celia would push me around in my pram.

Wally was 14 and lodged with Ted and Edie until he was 16 then he went into the merchant navy.

The sergeant’s mess in Dartford had many social occasions and at times, he would get on the piano and play for the evening.

One night a soldier came over and said he could play the saxophone and he sent him home on leave to get it.

Ted

Also, a drummer and trumpet player joined the embryo band.  Very soon they were booked to play at functions making music for dances. I asked dad if he was earning any money doing this he said they did it for fun; and free drinks.

Ted, as I have said before was never a reader of music and his limitations were felt by the band in reading arrangements and introducing new tunes.

Then one night after new recruits arrived. A private said to Ted could he have a go at the piano. Ted said, “If you can play it better than me you can have the job”.

It turned out that the private was a professional musician and played with a named London big band.  The relief from the rest of the other musicians must have been fantastic. From then on Ted just fronted the band singing songs announcing the dances and managing the bookings. His star performances of “Old Farther Thames” and “The Fishermen of England” were a hit.

© Eddy Newport 2017

Pictures; from the collection of Eddy Newport