Nice one Brian. Love your stories.
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Nice one Brian. Love your stories.
Sailed to New Orleans many times in the 70s. Had some great nights in music bars - it gets in your blood.
Had some good times there meself Kevin. Don't remember much though.Quote:
Originally Posted by kevin
Learned a good trick in Molly's Irish Bar, run by her son, Jim Monaghan, at the time. I noticed that when you asked for a whisky they started by filling the glass full of ice and then free-pouring the whisky.Quote:
Originally Posted by pablo42
I asked for a whisky with no ice. The barmaid checked twice that I REALLY wanted no ice, then started to pour. Without ice in the glass she had no idea how far to fill it so I got an enormous measure. I then asked for two cubes of ice!
This worked for a couple of visits then they wised up - so I tried it in other bars and it worked there as well!
The Caribbean
We were on passage between New Orleans and Jamaica when I had my first falling out with a member of the crew ;and it had to be a scouser I fell out with.
I forget the details of what led to our fisticuffs ,I had been given a particularly lousy job by the bosun ;he was?nt a bad man ,just liked his rum too much. I took umbrage at being given another lousy job to do and was having a few cross words with him . Stan, the Carpenter, came on the scene and tore into me for having a go at the bosun. I was stunned ,we had always got on well together and here he was getting steamed up and personal over my row with the bosun.
All would have been well if he had moved on and left it at calling me a ?sh*th*use? for rowing with the bosun. But ,Stan was from Scotland Road and was one from the school of hard knocks. ?Yew would?n? last five minutes on a Cunard boat, I bet yew don? sail outta Liverpool cos? yer f*ckin? yeller!?
This was said in front of the whole crew and I was lost for words. What was I to do?
I went and got cleaned up and then walkedt round to Stan?s cabin. I knocked the door and walked in ?What was that all about out there Stan?? I asked.
?Yew f*ck*n? heard ,yer one of those yeller bastids who bully old men? he yelled angrily.
I hit him and he dropped to the deck. I followed him down and was about to hit him again when I saw my fathers face . I pinioned him to the deck and said ? I don?t want to fight you Stan ;we should be mates? He looked up at me, all the **** and wind gone from his face.
?I?m going to let you up mate, it?s up to you what you do then ,but I?d rather not fight any more?
He stood up and looked at me, waiting to see what happened next. I gave him my hand
?Shake mate, I won?t tell anyone if you won?t, O.K.??
We shook hands , I left his cabin and neither of us ever spoke a word of it ,until now.
We were wary of each other for a few days and then slipped back into that old relationship of scouse banter. The bosun? He had?nt realised a thing ,he was always half soaked anyway!
I mentioned Arthur our JOS, he was a quietly humorous kid ,he had to have a small operation in one of the ports. It left him with half a left nipple and he took a bit of ribbing about it. Benjie , the guy who looked like the AB on the Players cigarette packet, fell in love with Arthur then ,much to the chagrin of Jeff his previous punk.
Poor Arthur was mortified to be the object of such ardent wooing, the rest of us kept a watching brief to see that it never got out of hand. I could?nt understand it then ,Benjie could have had any women he liked ,he preferred smooth bodied young sailors instead. Benjie never succeeded in his pursuit of Arthur and eventually picked up with Jeff again.
The chief cook was an old ?queen? who often dallied with Jeff and it was quite amusing to see Benjie and the chef vying for Jeffs favours. When the chef was getting his ?rations? our menu was very nice and extra egg for breakfast and meals that were as good as you would get in a nice restaurant. But if he and Jeff rowed????.it was back to basics.
We were going to a place that I had never heard of before, Port Eskervil, this is west of Kingston and was little more than a jetty and some molasses tanks. I have never been there since that time in 64? ,it was the nearest thing to paradise that I had ever seen. It is set in a large bay and was very sparsely populated. The beach had pale golden sands that were lapped by a sea of aquamarine and the land behind the beach was richly verdant and above it all was that empty blue sky with its glowing orb. Apart from the tug, that had helped us berth, and a few empty boats ,there was nothing to disturb that mirror smooth water.
We were the only sign of activity in that quietly peaceful place. We would a here for a few days ,there was nothing to do and nowhere to go so we relaxed and soaked up the gentle atmosphere. Apart from the noise of the pump and our usual ship sounds ,all was quiet, even the gulls seemed laid back. We were set to in giving the lifeboats a clean out ,we had to get rid of the stores for the dates were due up on them. We had lots of barley sugar sweets and ships biscuits ,all sealed in waterproof tins. It seemed a shame to dump them, and some of us would have gladly eaten those old stores , but in mid afternoon some spindly legged children from the village appeared on the quay. We were quite shocked by their appearance ,they seemed so undernourished and were looking at us with wide saucer eyes. Someone threw a tin of barley sugar to them, there were squeals of delight when they saw it and we then gave them all of the old stores. They were delightful children and they never fought for possession, everything was shared out between them. It was a joy to see them walking back to their village with their arms laden with such bounty. It was more like Africa there than a place in the New World. Not one of those kids had footwear and their clothes were threadbare, they could have been slave children. Such poverty in a place of great beauty.
When we were down to our marks we set off for the USA once more , this time to Texas,
Galveston to be precise.
It was still winter when we shipped into Galveston Bay ,there was a bitterly cold northern wind blowing and I had been told that there was many a ship wrecked in these waters ,I could understand why when I saw the size of the waves out there in the bay.
We were docked in the poorer part of Galveston ,the area was mostly Mexican and the place had a seedy, run down look about it . We were all taken off for a medical examination, the man who came to pick us up looked like the stereotypical American cop. Snap brimmed panama ,Raybans, and a mackintosh . He was very brusque, ?Any o? you guys thinkin? o? makin? a break for it, fergit it ? he said bringing out a colt 45. ?Ah shoot to kill? We sat silent ,stunned at his display. He started to laugh and said ?I?m not really a Texan, I come from Limehouse ,relax lads.? He then drove us to the medical centre, it was very different from anything we had in England then. It was more like a resort hotel, a palm filled atrium and a small indoor pool in which there were fresh water fish. Muzak played softly from speakers giving a sense of relaxation. There were no pasty faced bronchiacs here.
Because we were British we were given the works, the NHS picked up the tab and we were passed from doctor to doctor who each had a slice of the Limey pie.
It was cold that night and I was the only soul to venture ashore to taste the delights of the Mexican quarter. I had never seen anywhere so bleak ,the bars that had patrons were quiet ,each man wrapped in his own thoughts. The juke boxes were full of Mexican records with a few Elvis songs among them, I progressed from bar to lonely bar, sipping some of Kentucky?s finest ,getting lonelier with each glass. I realised too late that I was well over my limit and started to head back to the ship, I felt a bit warmer , and that was?nt just the whiskey. If you have ever over imbibed you will know how I felt just then .I was a stranger in a strange town ,my steering gear was somewhat impaired and I staggered unsteadily back to where I thought I had come from. I was standing on the corner of god knows where ,looking for some sign of the docks ,when a female voice said ? My God son ,you look shot to hell? I turned and saw an old lady, she looked just like Tweety Pies keeper. ?C?mon here, I?ll give you a bite to eat, you?ll feel a lot better then? She was such a kindly lady that I followed without demur. She sat me at a table in a Mexican bar, her friend was sat there and she called the waiter over. She spoke something in Spanish to him and I was brought a cup of hot , black ,sweet coffee. Just the job, minutes later a hamburger arrived ,it was the size of a dinner plate and was served with a side order of salad. While I ate they told me a little about themselves, they were two widow ladies from Pasadena. One of them had come to settle her husbands estate at the lawyers office in Galveston ;they had decided to spend a few days there and Tweety?s grandma had bought a new car there. I was about halfway through my supper when Mark Morgan came in ,after greeting the ladies he whispered in my ear ?Brian, my muzzair eez not this old ,come back to ze ship? I laughed, not really understanding the import of what he had said. He refused the ladies offer of a drink and left the bar.
I had finished my supper and was given a bottle of Mexican beer when another of the crew appeared , little Willie Brennan,
He came up to the table and raised himself to his full five foot two inches, his finger tips just protruding from the sleeve of his jacket ,his neck sunk into a collar three sizes too big and his unruly hair plastered to his head with great dollops of brilliantine. His glasses ,with lens that looked like the bottoms of a bottle ,emphasised his likeness to a tortoise. Stepping forward he waxed eloquent. ?Ah Brian, wherever did you meet two such charming ladies?? Taking Grandma?s friends hand ,he raised to his lips and said ?Enchanted?
She near swooned, ? And I hope you?ll all join me in a small libation? he said calling the waiter. He ordered four beers and then turned back to the ladies.
?Would you be having a conveyance to take us back to our vessel? he crooned.
Grandma explained that she had a brand new auto and would be only too happy to take us back to the ship.
Willie had sat next to the friend and was holding her hand ,every now and then he would raise the back of it to his lips and smooch it; she just sat there cooing like a dove. She was as old as Willie and they were behaving like love?s young dreams.
When we finished our drinks Grandma took us out to her new car, a Chevrolet Impala coupe! It was two tone , metallic black with purple flashes down the side. She got in and lowered the ragtop, it was fabulous and smelled of new leather. Willie and his senorita got in the back seat and I sat on the passenger side of the front bench seat. We glided silkily on to the highway and I felt the car begin to roll with a gentle ,regular, motion. As trucks and buses passed us they gave us a blast on their horns and I was wondering why when I noticed a hairy little bottom in the rear view mirror, rising up and down on the back seat. I turned around and saw Willie going to town , his arse like a fiddlers elbow! When I sat back ,Grandma smiled at me and said ?I guess it?s time you paid for yo?re supper son!? I then realised what Mark had meant.
She pulled on to some waste ground and I could see the Athelcrest below us ,tantalisingly close.
?C?mon boy ,it?s payback time? she said pulling me to her. I was putty in her hands, I only wished that she had been fifty years younger. I paid for that supper in aces and ,when I got up to leave ,Willie was shouting ?Gambio? Spanish for change. I ran down the bank to the ship and left him to it.
Next morning there was no sign of Willie,I went to his cabin and found him still in his bunk. He was ruined ,he had climbed into the front seat and made love to Grandma and did his back in as he did so. He begged me not to tell anyone ,I promised him I would?nt ,as long as did?nt tell anyone about me.
We sailed upriver to Houston that afternoon, we would be there twenty four hours and so we would have a night there.
The passage there was up a very winding ship channel, it was not very memorable until we came across the Battleship Texas, she was in her own dock by Jacinto Bay and looked magnificent. It took a while to pass her and I sat rapt, I had never been that close to a battleship before and was truly astounded. Why oh why did?nt we British do the same.
We did?nt have the Belfast on display then, even so ,we had some mighty ships ,we could have saved a few more!
Houston was like tomorrow land. It was the first major city I had been to that had a full on one way road system ,the buildings were quite spectacular( I had?nt visited New York yet).
Everywhere looked like everywhere else, block after block of the sameness. Even downtown was superbland ,it all looked so new and without character.
We ended up in the cinema, not a ?nudie? this one had a British war film and the audience were very attentive. When the newsreels were shown there was an item of a British cargo ship that had been badly damaged in a storm off Florida. There were newsreels shots of the crew standing on the deck of this fast sinking vessel, they were awaiting the arrival of the US Coastguard but we never got to find out the end of the story. Our last view was of the men waving frantically as the plane soared by.(In October ?64 I sailed with one of the men who was rescued by the Coastguard)
When we were fully discharged we sailed to Puerto Rico where we would load more molasses. San Juan was our destination and none of the regular crew were happy about it. They said it was a wild place, well, we would find out soon.
Puerto Rico
My knowledge of Puerto Rico was very scant, apart from it being an American protectorate and that the population was predominantly Spanish that was the most of my knowledge ,that plus they featured in West Side Story as the rival gang and that in the late 40?s a group of Puerto Ricans had invaded the Capitol and shot the place up. I had never heard tell of it being like Cuba or Jamaica, i.e. a good place for sailors.
Our fears that it was not going to be happy place were borne out on the first night in port.
To get into the nearest part of town we had to pass through a gulch above which ,on either side ,lay the barrios, the poor quarter. We were warned not to walk ashore alone but to move in groups, and that is what most of us did. When we got ashore we found it to be a not very inviting place, I remember street after street of clapped out houses and lots of t-shirted youths hanging around street corners looking for prey.
One of the young cockney stewards who had come ashore with us bought a Saturday Night Special from a gunshop. We thought he was mad, if he got caught with it there would be hell to pay.
After a lot of wandering about we found a bar that was fairly decent and it had girls who liked the Gringos. We finished our night off there together and found our way back to the ship. When we got to the top of the gangway ,the guy who was on night watch told us that Joe, an old fireman ,had been very badly assaulted. He was in the Recreation room awaiting an ambulance and he thought we should go and say goodbye to him .We were surprised ,why goodbye? He told us that the company were flying him home , a doctor had examined him and advised that he should fly home as soon as possible.
We went down to see him, he was sitting having a smoke ,and he was totally unrecognisable. His head resembled a Christmas pudding, it was hugely enlarged, his eyes reduced to slits and his mouth and ears were torn and ragged. His pain seemed visible, his breath was short and gasping and blood was seeping from his every orifice. I could?nt spend much time with him because the sight sickened me. His only crime had been to walk alone.
The group of went ashore next night, we split up before we got to the gulch and walked slowly along that darkened path ,we could hear the movements on the bank above us and then came a hail of stones. They ran screaming toward us and the steward got out his gun and blasted away. I know I should?nt glorify violence but when I heard those wolves cry out in pain I felt tremendous , they got back in aces what they had given to Joe the night before.
We did?nt continue our journey after that, we made our way back to the dock and sat on the poop drinking cold Tennants.
We went to Vera Cruz after Puerto Rico. I was on night watch and never got to see it, what I remember though was how cold it was, there was a stiff breeze blowing across the Bay and it did?nt seem very inviting.
From Mexico it was back to New Orleans and what can I say , it was almost a repeat of our first trip excepting that this time I went ashore with Jimmy the black cook. I never gave it a thought, the colour bar was still very much in effect down south but I had?nt seen much evidence of it ,until I went ashore with Jimmy that is. When we walked down Real Street none of the hucksters tried to get us into their bars ,not that that mattered, we could?nt afford them anyway. We went into a Hamburger joint on the main street and waited for the guy behind the counter to serve us. He had his back toward us and we were the only two customers in there. I became aware of a strangulated southern accent speaking the most repulsive racial obscenities. I looked around but there was only Jimmy and me, and the guy behind the bar. It was him, his mouth was spewing out a non stop stream of violent filth. I felt sickened and told him stick his burgers up his big fat racist arse. He never once turned round ,he was looking at us through a mirror above his head.
When I went ashore next day I was with Tam and my cabin mate, we strolled down into town and called into Woolworths to have a snack at the lunch counter. No one would serve us and a few customers walked by and called us ?God****ed Commies? and ?Freedom Riders?. At length a young manager came up to us and informed us we were sitting at the blacks only counter.
On the same day we saw some young men outside Krauss?s Department store, they were young white guys and were carrying placards denouncing the stores whites only policy. People spat at them and called them traitors, personally ,we thought they were very brave. Three young freedom riders had recently disappeared down in the south, there was along road to be travelled yet before full emancipation was to be achieved in the ?good ole south.?
Tam , Harry Gambie ,my cabin mate and myself, had been ashore together plenty of times,we our company comfortable and congenial, we loved to discourse about things unusual ,not to say idiotic even. Tam who could speak like a lawyer was a funt of useless ,but interesting knowledge, erudite and eloquent ,he could hold his own in any company. It was in such a frame of mind that we found ourselves back in Kingston , it was a Saturday night and we had found a bar we you could hear yourself speak above the music. There were rows of Appleton Estates White Rum on the shelf behind the bar,it was 100% and very nice too. So the four of us got our mouths around the rum and our tongues around the tautological nuances of the existentialist school of thought. The rum flowed and our tongues got looser and looser until ,at length , we started knocking the crap out of each other. Really knocking the crap out of each other.
With split lips and swollen knuckles we made our separate ways back to the ship.
The was an embarrassed moment or two next morning as we viewed each others wounds and silently vowed not to sup, 100% proof rum when discussing philosophy .
When we loaded at Kingston we learned that we would be going to Irlam on the Manchester Ship Canal. I was full of mixed feelings, I had?nt yet told my family of why I had been away so long and I had to sort out the legal side of things too. It would be almost twelve months since I had been within the bosom of my family and I was both elated and ashamed. Divorce was not a word that was in common usage among my circle ,and ,as I had found with Ray?s family, the man was usually the ?baddie.?
I had bought presents for most of my immediate family, including M.?s baby,a blameless little mite. When I was in New Orleans I bought Dad a big box of White Owl cigars and a small box of King Edwards ,cigars ,not spuds! He?d love standing at the bar in the snug of the Railway offering his mates an American cigar. For mum I bought a handbag and for the rest I bought odds and sods. One thing I did keep for Dad was a most unusual publication. I picked it up at a newsstand in New Orleans , it was a magazine putting the Russian side of the Cuban Missile affair. Apparently the two leaders ,Krushchev and Kennedy agreed to publish their sides of the story in each others country using the most popular magazine within the others country. So there was Life Magazine printed in the Russian equivalents format ,giving details of the agreement that was reached by the superpowers. Russian Missiles out of Cuba in exchange for the removal of US missiles along the Turkish border with Russia. Old news now ,but pretty astounding then, the world was seeming to calm down a bit, excepting for the hysteria being created by those four young guys from Liverpool.
One bit of news that still stays stuck in my mind from then ,was the murder of a young New York woman, Kitty Genovese , The murder took place in Queens, not a slum neighbourhood, and her neighbours ignored her cries for help. I was shocked then, would we ever become as indifferent as that?
Harrison Line did a regular trip when they had loads of general cargo vessels - Kingston, Vera Cruz, Tampico, Houston, New Orleans, then back to the UK - often Manchester. Did that run 8 or 9 times.
You missed out by not going ashore in Vera Cruz - had some great nights out there. Loved it.
Home
Any home loving sailor would tell you of the excitement that is generated on a homeward bound ship. As you cross the oceans and steer a course for home ,you begin to think of all the things you might get up to this time, the girls you might meet, old shipmates who might be in port, those relatives that you had?nt seen for sometime. Sometimes your thoughts would turn to the superficial, a new suit, the Locarno or those new clubs that were springing up in town.
It was known as the ?channels?, the feeling of euphoria that comes over everyone returning from a long voyage ; sadly I did?nt have the ?channels ? this time. I had a lot to settle when I got home, I had solicitors to see and had to face M. and bring this chapter to a close.
We reached the Manchester Ship Canal in the third week of April ,it was wonderfully mild and boded well for our leave. When you sail up the Canal you have to lower your topmasts, you would?nt get under all the bridges if your mast was too big, our was rather large in that it was situated on the Monkey Island above the bridge. The whole mast had to be lowered and , as it was hinged ,it would lay across the top of the bridge housing and hang forward over the main deck. It was a fraught business but we got her down and then she had to be stripped of her stays and aerials, you did?nt need to be afraid of heights when you did this. You had to walk along the lowered mast, like a funambulist ,arms astretch to get your balance and the get along there to the top ,which was now above the deck, it was unnerving but you soon got stuck into it..
As we were cruising up to our dock the rummagers piled aboard. I was way over the top with my cigars , cigarettes and booze, I was looking at a hefty fine or the customs surcharge. I got everything I had and put it on my writing desk so that it was in full view, no good trying to put one over on these guys.
It looked like a good tobacconists and off licence. My cabin mate said I was mad, well, that maybe so but some times fortune favours the foolish.
When the rummagers came in and saw my store they looked at each and then turned to me ? Who the hell does this belong to?? one of them asked. I stood up and went across to the desk top, ? The cigars have got to be shared out between my Dad and some of his brothers, the cigarettes are for my Mum and my elder sister. Now, the whiskey is Dads but the brandy is for my Mum and the Rum is for me to give the lads at the club for sippers?
The rummager looked at me as though I was a bit short in the upper storeys ? Are you aware of what you are allowed to bring in sir?? ?Yes? I answered ? but it is?nt for me ,it?s the families Christmas presents? He shook his head and said ,?Put it in your case before my boss sees it , and ,hope you have a good homecoming?
We paid off the Athelcrest on April the 21st, time to go home.
It was mid afternoon when I got to Liverpool and I did?nt know where to go, I was a little shamefaced about meeting my parents and so I went to my sisters in Garston.
We sat and I told her as much as was decent about why I had left M. and asked if I could get my head down there for the night, she was happy for me to stay but urged me to go and see Mum and Dad before the night was out, they would be upset if they thought I was home and had?nt been to see them.
I left my gear at Jessies and took a little case with some goodies in. I had?nt shaved off my beard and was wearing a colourful straw panama, not a sight you would usually see in a mid week in Liverpool. As the bus neared Walton I felt the need to see Grandma and Granddad Hengler, I could pop in for a little while and see how they were, I still felt very close to both of them. It was getting dark when I knocked their door in Eton Street, I could hear Grandma wheezing her way to the door; it opened a crack and she looked at me. ?Er we don?t want anything? she said. I was amazed ,she thought I was an Indian door to door salesman. ?Pliss , pretty lady, you will like what I have?.Come look I show you?
?Siid? she yelled ? There?s a darkie on the step and he won?t go away? ?Grandma, it?s me, Brian? She craned her neck forward to get a closer look,? It?s alright Sid, it?s only Dickie Mint home from his travels?
It was lovely to sit with them in the dining room ,a plate of Grandmas scones and a hot cup of tea. Granddad ,being an old salt was full of questions as to where I had been this time; it was more than a year since I had seen them and they were totally unaware of my situation. I did?nt enlighten them ,it was just good to be a grandson again.
I caught the bus to Kirkby and walked from the stop to Mum and Dads with a stomach full of butterflies.
I need?nt have worried about my reception, there were no recriminations or I told you so?s, jut a warm loving welcome . There was no question of going back to our Jessies that night, Mum made up my old bed and I went to sleep resolved to bring these proceedings to a close.
The law firm that the Consul had engaged for me was in Castle Street and it was there that I found the man charged with getting my marriage dissolved. He seemed a mere boy, dressed in chalk striped pin suit and matching tie and handkerchief, looked dapper ,but was he good?
The court case was to be held on the 6th of May, my birthday, did that bode well , I hoped so.
I saw my solicitor twice before the court case, he told me a silk would be acting for me in court, I asked him what that meant and he told me that it was a lawyer and that he was the best. I was impressed but totally ignorant of how these things worked, it seemed I was in safe hands. My leave then took on a different tenor, a little enjoyment was called for and so I embarked upon a bit of night life, and what a place was for night life then. There were clubs galore and lots of groups , the Pacemakers and the Beatles were just the tip of the iceberg, even my cousin had a group, Arrow and the Archers. Fusty old Liverpool was now thriving with places of entertainment and the girls were never more beautiful than they were then. I had a whirl of one night stands and , before I knew it ,it was May the 5th.
I phoned my solicitor and asked him when he planned a meeting with the lawyer, that in 24 hours we were due in court. He went very quiet and said that he had been briefed and would meet in court at 9.00 in the morning.
I met the lawyer next morning and found ,to my dismay, that all he had was some notes from the solicitor and so he had our case moved to the bottom of that days business while he sat with me and went through the whole thing from scratch. Fro where we were sitting we could see lots of couples being called into court and leaving no more than twenty minutes later,some even sooner. So it was?nt going to be a marathon then.
We were called at 11.00 and were ushered into the magistrates court, the old ushers had seen everything and could have written books about what they had witnessed therein.
M. sat across the courtroom with a policewoman by her side. As the evidence was presented by our advocates ,the Usher who stood near me was nodding ,?Yer?ve got this in the bag kid? M. sat ,her face a crimson colour as my lawyer questioned her about the horrible tales that she had written, the policewoman moved away from her. The usher leaned over me,?You?ve nothing to worry about son, you?ll walk away from this?. We broke for lunch and the policewoman who had sat with M, came over to me, ?Come and have some tea with us ? she said. She patted my arm and said ?Soon be over? I was comforted by these sentiments and we resumed our seats in court to carry on. The afternoon wore on as the lawyers picked holes in statements and I watched as the clock neared five. The clerk to the Justices called for an adjournment for a month hence and I grabbed my lawyers arm and told him I would be back at sea then, ? Would the court indulge my client and continue the hearing now as he has to be back at sea in two weeks time.? The atmosphere became glacial ?Yer kin kiss this one good bye son, the chairman hates sailors? the usher whispered.
No one had mentioned that I was in the merchant navy and the frosty faced chairman turned to me and said that they would indeed continue the hearing.
I was screwed over six ways to Sunday.
Knowing what I know now, I could have sued the solicitors for malfeasance but back then, I just accepted that I was going to have to live with the courts decision.
A chunk of my earnings was going to taken in maintenance and that seemed so unfair, I was taxed as a single man but had to pay out just as much as a married man.
The solicitors said that they would appeal against the decision and gave me a whacking great bill. It was with great relief that I joined my next vessel ,a Cunarder called the Saxonia. It would seem strange sailing with a full Scouse crowd again.
divorce brian is a very expencive word I KNOW but it was worth every penny:PDT_Aliboronz_24:
Saxonia
Fate was kind to me that day, Charlie Repp had given me a good berth on a still new vessel and, as it was?nt sailing for a few days, I would have a few more days leave.
I went to the Locarno to see what things were like in the ?free? world. I had?nt really relaxed or had a good time like a young sailor should. My marriage was finished, no divorce yet,but it was certainly over. I was stuck with paying maintenance and I was?nt exactly flush , but you did?nt have to be loaded to have a good time.
It was quite packed at the Locarno and I was on my lonesome, I had a few dances with some nice girls when I noticed a little lady who looked very trim. She was different from most of the girls in that she was actually wearing an evening dress. She looked like Cleopatra, or rather ,Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra. She was dancing with a young guy who looked like a match for her ,they were laughing and having a good time. When the music ended I went to her table and asked if I could have the next dance ,to my delight she agreed. The young man she was with turned out to be her brother and somewhere on the floor was her cousin with her husband. She asked me to join them at their table and we had a really nice time. They were all from Kirkby and lived not to far from where my Mum lived. When the evening ended I was allowed to walk her home from where the taxi dropped off the rest of the crowd.
That night seemed technicoloured, it was late May and the weather was balmy, I wanted to see her again but afraid that she might not want to. She raised the subject, she and her siblings were in a Motown type group and were doing a gig at Ossie Wades in Walton,did I want to go ? Did I not?. I had never been to Ossies but had heard of it, it was artistes used to go and showcase their talents, the place would be full of club stewards and secretary?s looking to book acts.
It turned out to be a great night, there was a lot of talent on stage ,and some dead beats,but the group she was in were great. I am not going to embarrass her by telling their name, she did?nt know my marital state at that time and I never did anything to hurt her, she was too lovely for that.
So, when I sailed from Liverpool I had a girl who would wait for my return, life was looking up.
The deck crowd on the Saxonia had done a few trips together and seemed a nice bunch of lads. There was one other Newbie along with me ,a guy called Gerry,he was from Bootle and was a big raw boned feller. He and I were put on the same watch. I can remember a lot of the faces of the rest of the crew but the names are becoming lost in the mists of time. The guy in the next cabin to me was called Norman and the reason I remember his name will become clear later on.
Another of the deck crowd was a guy called Richie Bradshaw, he was a bit younger than me and was a bit of a smart dresser. The first time I saw him was in the Boat House pub and I felt envious of his suit, a tan full drape, looked very smooth.
The boat House was where most of the lads went for their lunchtime sessions ,they served a good pint and you could get a bite to eat there as well.
Little did we but know it but we were seeing the end of the docks as we had known them all our lives. The Dock Road was a non stop parade of heavy goods traffic , a lot of horses were still in use and the carters seemed to line the road from dawn to dusk, all manner of goods going for export and even more coming as imports. The smells and sounds were ineffably Liverpool, tug whistles blowing, the clattering of steam winches ,the rattle of chains and the hissing of the steam lorries from Tates and the timber yards,the clanging of the bells on the dock railway engines and the banter of the dockers. It was a sound that would soon be silenced ,but this is then and that wonderful din sounded throughout the days
..
The ?Sax? was as modern as could be, Mcgregor steel hatches and all electric winches , not too many hardships on her for the modern sailor. She had single berth air conditioned accommodation and the food was good too. We would be five days at sea, five days in New York ,five days at sea and then five days in Liverpool. A tidy and well ordered existence, and some lads loved it. I had an open mind about it , I liked tramping, not knowing where you were bound lent something to a voyage, a bit like a lucky dip, this was somewhat different, like a trans Atlantic ferry. We were have a last swift one in the Boat House before we sailed and I noticed a guy on the other side of the bar. He was dressed in very bright colours, like a Yankee sailor. He nodded to a few of our fellers and we got back aboard and made ready for sea.
I remember another Newbie that joined us at that time , a Manx lad ,who was called ,naturally ,Manxie. He more teeth than I had ever seen on a human being ,when he smiled it was like looking at a double decker Hohner mouth organ, and he was unconsciously funny. He had worked on the IOM Ferries and this was his first proper ship and he was excited as a toddler at Christmas. I was as excited as Manxie,although I had been to the States before ,this would be my first time in New York.
I had read ,some years before , the Liverpool comedian Ted Ray?s autobiography. He started out his working life as a waiter with Cunard White Star and he said that New York was Liverpools cultural twin. He opined that a scouser had more in common with his New York counterparts than he did with folk outside of Liverpool . I was soon to learn what he meant. The Cunard Yank! The men who sailed the ocean greyhounds, the men who brought America home to Liverpool and made it what it was then.
Although it was May the Atlantic was still fairly choppy and the northerly winds had a distinct chill to them, the saving grace of the Sax was that she had been especially built for the worst that the northern ocean could throw at her and she stood up to the worst of weathers. She was an all aft ship and we never had to forward to the foc?sle head for lookout ,we did our lookout on the monkey island above the bridge; if you had the right weatherproofs and a good sou?wester you could be quite snug up there. I never asked anyone about this when I was at sea but when the wind was blowing and the ship was rolling ,I could hear music. The sound of the sea crushing beneath our bows ,mingled with the breeze humming through the taut halyards and the rise and fall of the engine noise as we crested wave after wave built up a symphony that was glorious to hear. On one such a night I was lost amidst the marine orchestration when the Captain called up on the voice pipe, ?Daley ,fetch the apprentices ,there is an eclipse of the moon? It was way after midnight and I had to raise them from their slumbers ,but it was worth it. I had never seen a lunar eclipse before and on this cloudless night it was mighty. The sea was like black ruffled satin and the moon was pale argent, within minutes a black disk crept across its surface leaving perfect blackness ;the earths shadow blacked out the moon.
Soon we would be the other side of the ?pond? and would be getting our first view of New York. They were still working on the Verrazano Straits Bridge ,which connects Brooklyn to Staten Island, this was nearing completion and the span was finished. The road ,a 16 lane highway , was being laid as we sailed beneath it. The acoustics were amazing ,we could hear the construction workers talking hundreds of feet above us, the sound echoing down to us. The regular lads swapped insults with the workers as we passed beneath and some of them told us how the bridge builders would some times empty their bowels over them as they passed beneath. Welcome to America!
Rounding Staten Island and heading up the Hudson River affords an unforgettable vista; the tips of the mountainous skyscrapers provide a backdrop to the Statue of Liberty which grows in size as we near the harbour, the sun shining in the eastern sky starts to burnish the man made mountains, making them ablaze as their windows reflect old Sol.
First timers like me stand agape at the sheer majesty, Manxie shouted ? Fack me, it?s like Liverpool? I suppose if you?re from Port Erin it could look like that. Slowly we cruised down to Pier 51, seeing more liners in that short time span than I had ever seen in my life before, the Queens , the United States, Hamburg Amerika , Norwegian ,French and Swedish liners,a whole pageant of ships that provided the everyday backdrop to that wonderful town
On the radio we could hear the Beatles and other Merseyside groups being played non stop. This was the town of Murray the K,the self styled fifth Beatle ,and their music ,the music of Merseyside,was being celebrated in a way that never was in England. The Searchers were in New York at that time and the city was going crazy for them, scouse accents were in and to be long haired and a scouser was a ticket to a good time. But we had a lot of work to do first. It was Sunday when we arrived and all we had to was tie up and get the derricks up for the morning, after that the day was ours. When I got cleaned up it was lunch time and I stared longingly through the porthole, New York. I had seen her so many times in the cinema and on t.v. and here I was. Trouble was ,no one was going ashore! Most of the single lads had New York girlfriends and they would be coming aboard to see their boyfriends. I did?nt want to venture ashore alone and so I stayed in my cabin after lunch and read my book.
It was mid afternoon when some of the girlfriends started arriving on board and, as the bulkheads(walls ) were not soundproof I could hear the conversations taking place in the cabins on either side of mine. My bunk was bolted through the bulkhead to the bunk in the next cabin ,Norman?s cabin. I can hear more than I want to coming through the partition and with being physically attached through the bolts, I could feel the action too. I was having a bit of a bumpy ride and Norman seemed to have good staying power. There were assorted groans and sighs and then I heard ?Do it some more Norman? This was embarrassing. ?Come on Norman, I want some more? Gulp!, I?d been like a monk for weeks???
?Norman ,if you don?t f*ck me again I?m goin? next door to ?ave it off the other feller!?
?Don?t do it Norman? I cried out mentally. Within seconds my bunk started to move in rhythm with theirs. I got up and had another cold shower. All you could hear in the alleyway was the muffled sound of lovemaking. **** night for me this was turning out to be.
Suddenly my door flew open and the cook stood there, he looked to the side at someone I could?nt see and said ?Here you ladies, this fellers free? and he ushered in two lovely young ladies. They were Nannies ,both from Scotland ,and had come ,like a lot of young women to be with a young British lad and maybe get some British food too. It was?nt too long before I hooked with a young blonde one, no ties , just company and maybe a bit of a cuddle too. New York was looking better already. Tomorrow I would go ashore ,but we were?nt finished with Sunday yet
About 4.00 in the afternoon all hell seemed to let loose in the galley ,I was in the messroom making a cup of tea ,I?d seen the girls off and arranged to call them next day .There was no one about so I went out on to the poop to sip my cuppa and look at New York; screams and the clatter of pots and pans erupted and then the second cook came zooming out the galley pursued by a knife wielding chef. He was roaring bloodcurdling threats and he chased the second at least twice around the deck. Some shore workers left off what they were doing to watch the spectacle and the policeman on the gangway looked on with some amusement. This was life and death but was side splittingly funny. Someone shouted to the cook to ask what was for tea and he stopped in hjs tracks and said ?F*ck me? and ran off to the kitchen.
He must have left something on the stove . They worked under a lot of pressure ,and some times they blew!!
Later that evening I went across to the Market Diner to have a couple of beers before getting my head down and I saw the brightly dressed guy I had seen in the Boat House. I had?nt seen him on the way across????I had just learned about the stowaway racket. Some lads ran an alternative passenger scheme to New York,this guy was one of their customers.
The pictures show the Saxonia and me with my family,Mum sisters Bette and Chris plus my niece and nephew and the neighbours daughter. This was taken while I was on leave from the Sax.
Hi Brian.
I remember those Nannies in New York hanging about the Diner, Thats where the little park came in handy on a warm summers night In 1961/2 the cops on the pier wouldnt let anyone on board.
Transporting Stow aways was going on. On the Media and Parthia the lads who did it stowed them in the crows nest, the only place where the Master at Arms didnt go to. They were a pain in the ass, squashed up with us for the two hour watch up there, somertimes a little smelly, for seven days.
There was a firemens bathroom near the bottom of the mast we made them use that as often as we could. I have no idea what the going rate was or what kind of characters they were, some were indeed very shady.
I guess a lot of Liverpool criminals must have disapeared out of town that way and the same from New York.
New York
All the images, film and photo, cannot prepare you for the reality of New York city . The size of the buildings ,the wide avenues full of block long cars, the constant sound of motor horns and the raucous yelling of vendors and hucksters, cops with big fat bellies and gunbelts, ladies who look like they?ve just stepped out of Vogue ;pizza parlours ,hash houses and hot dog stands .The sights and sounds ,all invigorating, create an electric atmosphere and a feeling of speed. This city lives on adrenalin.
Our first Monday was spent opening up the hatches and making the gear ready for the dockers, they were regular Cunard dockers and so unlike there Liverpudlian counterparts. They looked like extras in a movie. Nearly all of them wore hats or caps, panama?s and button topped caps. You could never mistake them for other than what they were ,waterfront men. In Liverpool ,caps were worn ,coated with years of oil and grease, old suits sufficed as working gear and ,again ,these were waterproofed by years of oil and grease. It was almost a uniform in Liverpool , the Yankee dockers wore proper gear, denims and colourful lumberjackets, leather working gloves . If you had walked around the Gladstone dock like that they would have marked you down as a poser. I can remember wearing aftershave for the very first time ,it was Mennem for Men . I put some on while we were in the Huskisson and caught the number 1 bus to town. It was full of homeward bound dockers and as soon as I sat down I heard the sound of sniffing. ?Some f*ck*ng tart must be on da bus, I can smell her f*ck*ng perfume? ?Smells like a bleedin? puff to me? ? More like a hooers handbag?
These ,and various other comments greeted my fragrant form, well it 1964!
But back to New York, I used to love hearing the banter between the longshoremen there , they insulted each other with great gusto and most of their comments were ,and are ,unprintable. Like our dockers ,they had wit and a ready come back for any situation.
When we were unloading one of the first item to be unshipped was a block long white Rolls Royce. It had white wall tyres and a roof mounted radio/telephone aerial; this was an object of real beauty and admiration and the dockers crowded around it to look inside. The interior was all white and it looked like a film stars boudoir,it was being delivered to Carrol Baker the star of Baby Doll. I felt proud to be British ,such was the praise the dockers lavished on that car ?You guy?s sure know how to build auto?s? They had obviously never seen a Reliant!
We were given shopping time ,unbelievable but true, I took Monday afternoon off and went with my watchmate Gerry and a kid from Ulster. We went sightseeing , 42 Street ,Times Square and 5th Avenue for starters. We went to Jack Dempseys Bar (he was?nt in)and the Peppermint Lounge. We were like the three sailors in ?On the Town?, necks strained from looking up to the tops of those concrete canyons. When we were in a little bar off Times Square the barman asked us where we were from, he had no problem with Liverpool but when our Ulsterman told him he was Irish and from some little town I have long since forgotten, barman scowled and said ? Yer not an Irishman, you?re a bloody Orangeman? Our colleagues face darkened and Gerry and I saw a hatred so palpable you could almost taste it. It was five years before we saw the raw hatred come spilling out onto the streets of Northern Ireland ,we had a very small taster of it there in New York.
Our shopping trip proved very successful, the shops on 5th Avenue were brilliant ,I got a new hat ,a chocolate brown panama with a matching silk band ,a cotton jacket in Black Watch tartan and a great pair of trousers. New York men?s shops sail trousers by waist size, all the legs are uncut, when you buy a pair ,they measure your inside leg and then ,and there, cut them to length and finish them off properly. I have since found that the Duke of Windsor had all his jackets and waist coats tailored in Saville Row ,but his trousers were tailored in New York.
One of the shops we visited was the Factory Outlet just up from the docks, this shop sold out of season clothes and the prices were so unbelievably cheap , all top quality brands too.
So ,loaded with packages we made our way back to the waterfront and had a few lotions in the Market Diner before going back onboard. The place was heaving when we got there, the Queen of Bermuda had docked and there were hordes of lads crowding around the bar, it was a fantastic place.
Attached to the bar was the Diner, built like an old railroad dining car ,this place sold the finest hamburgers on the planet. You passed through a turnstile when you entered it ,you were given a ?bus? ticket on which there were printed the meals and when you ordered your food ,the counter hand punched your ticket and when you left you handed the ticket to a cashier at the door and she charged you whatever. The fastest ,cleanest place I have ever eaten in.
We tumbled back aboard ,got some ale off the steward and retired to the recreation room to see the latest episode of The Fugitive on t.v. They were about a year ahead of the U.K. and we near the end of the series, and what a series that was ;would Richard Kimble ever find the one armed man?
The week seemed to whizz by, I got up town as much as I could, just loved the vibrancy of the place, the penny arcades and the dance halls, the cinemas and the theatres, and the neon lights, I was like a kid in a fairground. Just by Rose Land ,the famous dance hall ,lay a huge Penny Arcade, I went in there to get my kid sister a personalised sweatshirt ,on
which I had printed ?I Love The Beatles? ,she was only eleven.
At the back of the arcade was a ?Beat the Gunfighter? amusement. This had a life sized gunfighter standing at the back of the booth and it was animatronic, therer was a holster with an infra red colt 45 at the front of the booth and you paid 10 cents to take on the robot. Manxie stood at the booth,all teeth and smiles. He put his 10 cents in and pulled out the gun and started firing , the sounds of ricochets were ringing out over the arcade. Slowly the gunfighter removed his gun and pointed it at Manxie and fired. ?Ah gotcha stranger? it said and Manxie roared ?I f*ckin? shot you first yer bastid? Causing all and sundry to stare horrified at this hairy wildman. I near had a hernia laughing.
Nice one Brian, brings back some memories.
New York 2
The Saxonia was a conventional cargo boat, she was pre container ,all the cargo was loose stow and we were filling up fast for our return trip. This was in the days when we had a healthy balance of payments and the ship was being loaded with American goods.
The Vietnam war was underway and we were carrying of lot of military material which would be forwarded to the U.S. Army in Europe ,we also loaded steel plates for Britain’s Polaris submarine. Just as we were getting full to the brim a couple of U.S Army trucks came to the quay filled with PX stores. The dry goods were stowed in the holds but the frozen food could not be stored in the cargo fridge as it was full and the Quartermaster in charge of PX stores asked if they could store the goods in our cooks fridge. Does a donkey like carrots? Fred the cook nearly fell over himself in agreeing to have the frozen goods in his fridge. The stores could not be sealed off and
Fred could’nt wait until we sailed so that he could share this wonderful booty with the crew..
I could see why the lads liked the Yankee run, most of the single ones had a girl on either side of the Atlantic, there were plenty of good places to in both towns , and the food and clothes in New York were both cheap and of good quality. There were no tearful departures either, we were only ten days away from either port and so it never “goodbye” but “ see you in a fortnight”
We eventually completed our loading and made our way home. Gerry ,my watch mate, started to feel ill and was getting little red blisters on his stomach, they were about six inches in length across the navel and about four inches high.. He was very worried and went off to see the mate who diagnosed “shingles” . Old wives tales had that the shingles would form a belt around the body and, if the belt was completed , it could prove fatal to the sufferer. As each day passed the blisters expanded across his abdomen; I have never seen anyone so worried, he constantly sought assurances from the lads that the Old wives tales were bunkum
On the catering side of things we had a gourmet trip back across the pond.
The cook looted the PX stores and he would come into the mess at breakfast ,and ,as we fed on Yankee maple cured bacon, wursts and hash browns ,he would take our orders for lunch and evening meals We could either have what the officers were having, i.e. standard Cunard fare ,or something from the PX. Those meals consisted of 2 inch thick steaks and all the trimmings, big turkey breast’s ,like a Thanksgiving dinner. There were hamburgers from heaven and lots of cinnamon buns and cakes from Mr Pilsbury. We made hay while the sun shone and lived like fighting cocks all the way to Liverpool
That rash of Gerry’s kept growing and by the time we got back to home the belt was almost complete and Gerry was paid off ;I never found out how he got on ,whether he recovered or what. There were a few men who left for pastures new when we got home but I was so taken with the ship and New York that I was quite happy to sign up for another trip .
It was now mid June and I was keen to see my little lady from Kirkby, we had written to each other and our feelings seemed to be mutual; I had’nt told her yet of my entanglement with M and determined that I would tell her as soon as possible.
I saw her on my second night home and she had an itinerary for our week together. I was in her hands and had the most wonderful time , days collided into each other and our feelings deepened but I chickened out each time I tried to raise the subject.
It was nearing embarkation time and we were going to have our last night at a new club in the Liver Buildings, Lulu was advertised as the top of the bill ,her hit “Shout” had made number one in the hit parade and she was very popular.
We turned up for the opening only to find a notice on the door saying the city fathers had turned down the licence application and that we should make our way to the ferry where the Royal Iris was waiting to take us on a “Pop” cruise. It was a good night, and we were lucky to get on board, there were hundreds there and a lot of “suits” looking to book some of the acts. Lulu was very good and belted out her stuff like a veteran, such a big voice in a tiny frame. I can only remember one of the other groups ,they were called the Blackwells and were a little ahead of their time. They were like a Glam rock group, long haired, bleached blonde and full make up, they were the future; whatever became of them?
We went to the lounge bar and had a quiet drink ,well as quiet as it could be with a pop group down below blastng away at mega decibels. This would be a good time to tell her. I got our drinks and was looking for the right words when a crowd of kids piled in. Lulu was in their midst and her group ,the Luvvers formed a cordon around her .They were sat in the next booth and were surrounded by fans ,all wanting autographs. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see who it was . I t was Lulu ,she asked me if I had a pen and I smiled and said “ I’m not giving autographs tonight “ She giggled and someone else handed her a biro. It was in the cab going home that I told my lady about being married. She cried and clung to me, “I’ll wait ,it is’nt forever” she whispered. Things got quite passionate as we travelled ,we shut out the world and embraced in way that we had’nt before. We were both losing control and by the time we got to her road we were so aroused that we could ‘nt wait to make love. There was nowhere to go and so we stood in the porch of her at the front of her house, the heavens seemed to swirl and our bodies were so febrile that I thought I would explode. Of a sudden her brothers voice called out behind us,” Are’nt yer goin’ in for supper?” It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over us and we regained our senses. It had been so close and I would have been a complete swine to have taken advantage of her. When I kissed her good bye that night it was goodbye forever. I was not going to mess her life up.
My leave over, I rejoined the Sax and was looking for a good time in New York. Richie Bradshaw had left ,as well as Norman and some others ,so there would be a few girls in need of boyfriends when we got to New York. . One of the new men was a guy called Chris Doyle, he was big blonde guy who you would want on your side if you were in trouble, another newbie was Sid, a tall ,slim Londoner with a wry sense of humour. So laid back he was almost horizontal.
As we cleared Liverpool and had finished our labours ,we crowded into my cabin for a can and a get to know you chat. I had some pictures on my shelf and some of the lads showed pictures of their girls and families too. Sid left the cabin and came back with some of his pictures, he handed them to me and I looked at the first one, it was of a beautiful lady, smiling full face to camera ,hands on her hips and legs slightly apart ,she was starkers and had’nt had a Brazilian. Something told me not to make a wise crack. “Beautiful girl Sid!” I said as he handed me another picture. “It’s the wife “ he said softly. The second photo was almost gynaecological. “ You must have a good camera “ I said . “I ain’t gorra camera, me mate took ‘em” There was a silence as we waited for the punchline………………..there was’nt one. Old Sid was a one off.
Chris Doyle was my watch mate this trip and we got along just great, it was his first time in New York and he was as excited as I was the trip before.
I had a spell at night watchman when, on the fourth night at Pier 51, it was almost steam heat in New York, there was no activity on the docks ,most of the lads were ashore and I had a thirst for a beer. I tipped the wink to the Yankee gangway man and snuck over to the Diner for a swift half. The place was crowded with the crews from the Cunarders and the Queen of Bermuda ;I could see Chris sitting at the back of the bar and went over to join him. I was in my working gear and looked rough, paint splashed T shirt and a pair of well faded Wranglers. I was smoking Navy Cut roll ups then and had taken my ‘baccy tin ashore with me. I used to put a tot of rum and a piece of orange peel in with the baccy, it heightened the taste and made it very aromatic. One glass led to another and pretty soon the night was full on us. I was standing there ,glass in hand when a little ”queen“ came up to me . “What ship are you off honey?” “she” asked. I pointed across to the Sax.
“A freighter!!? “ “she” exclaimed, “you’re much too gorgeous for a freighter!” With a wiggle of her hips “she” went back to rest of the queens from the Queen of Bermuda.
I was making another roll up when I noticed that we ,Chris and I, were being watched closely by two couples at the other side of the bar. They were staring intently as I rolled the makings and lit it with my Zippo. The girls came around to us and one of them asked if I was smoking pot. I nodded and she squealed “ Gee, can I have one?” so I made her a roll up and handed it to her, she was all giggly and her friend asked for one too. Their boyfriends sat across the bar looking daggers. I was getting drunk and the squealer was a looker, next thing she is close into me and asking where I was from ,when she heard the word “Liverpool” she almost had an orgasm. Many smokes later I told her I had to go back on board and took her around to her boyfriend .”Here’s your girls back pal “ I said as we made for the exit. One of them unwound himself from the chair and let loose with a mouthful at Chris. It was like watching a detonator being pushed ;Chris’s face hardened ,his eye’s mere slits “ Oo the hell are you talking too ?” Chris said ,his voice choked with suppressed rage. “ Yew, ya Limey bastid!!” bellowed the Yank in reply. “ Right !!” said Chris ,throwing a punch which landed right on the Yanks chin.
There is a little park just across from the Diner and the two of them raced across to it. Some lads off the Queen of Bermuda wanted to get stuck in on the Yank ,his friend looked lost, they were big lads and could have battered him. I said “Just let those two get on with it ,it’s one on one,no need for mob violence” There were a few mutterings and ,good enough, they stood outside the Diner and we watched Chris and his opponent do battle. The Yanks friend stood by me and quietly thanked me for stopping the lads joining in, I told him to hush up, I did’nt want the Southampton lads starting on me.
Both fighters were evenly matched as they fought on the steps to the park, the girlfriends seemed to be aroused as the punches slammed into each other, the Yanks girl was actually asking me if I would like to go skinny dipping while her boyfriend gave his everything. I suppose violence can act as an aphrodisiac to some girls; she was really turned on. The fighters were both landing haymakers and were beginning to stagger ;Chris smashed his fist into the side of the Yanks head and he went down as though he had poleaxed. As Chris walked back over to us, I told the Yanks friend to go and take his mate home before the other crowd got to him . The dust settled and we went back aboard the Sax’ Chris was smeared with blood ,most of it belonging to the Yank, we had a few beers and Chris went off to his bunk while I finished the night watch.
Nice one Brian. Glad to hear you're out of hospital.
New York 3
Two days before we sailed to Liverpool ,I went with Chris and Sid to the Diner, I had promised Gerry ,from the previous trip, that I would contact his sister who lived in Long Island, I forget what for ,but I remember making the call. The three of us were sat at the bar discussing the events of the previous evening , wondering if there would be any repercussions. I got up and went to the phone booth in the bar and got out the number Gerry had given me, I picked up the phone to dial when a young female voice said “Hello” I said “ Hi operator, can you put me through to Long Island……….” “I’m not an operator” I said “well ,whatever you are called over here can you put me through to Long Island……” “I’ve just told you I’m not an operator, can you get off the line!!” “ Listen luv ,don’t give me a hard time, if you are’nt an operator, you get off the line” She took umbrage at this and said that she had never been spoken to like that in her life. “Well it’s about time somebody did, now put the phone down” She spluttered something and I ended the call ,made my call to Long Island and went back to the bar. I had just started my next glass of beer when the barman said to me, “Go back to the booth, there’s a call for you”
I was puzzled, I did’nt know anyone in New York save for the girls I’d met and they would’nt know where I was at that moment. I went into the booth and picked up the phone .It was her, the non operator. “I cannot believe anyone could be so rude as you where, talking to a complete stranger like that. You are boorish and very bad mannered…” I was trying hard not to laugh. “Did you call just to say that, you must have more money than sense girl. What you need is a good slapped arse!!” There was a quick gasp at the other end. ”What did you just say?” “you heard luv, a spanking ,that’s what you’ve been missing” The lads were standing outside the booth, earholing our conversation. Sid gave the thumbs up at the spanking bit. All went quiet down the line and I was about to put the phone down and go back to the bar again when she spoke. “ Oh ,God! You,re so different from American men, I feel so mixed up.” This was interesting , I asked her why she had called the Diner and she said she was after a guy off the Saxonia. I told her that that was my ship and she told me she was a girl friend of Richie. I told her that he was no longer with us and she was sad, for about five seconds. One of the lads passed another glass of beer into the booth and our chat continued. She wanted to know about me, who I was and where I was from. I told her straight off that I was married and awaiting a divorce and that I was steering clear of any entanglements. She told me her name was Lisa and that she lived in Long Island and loved all things English. She had been with Richie for sometime and would like to meet another English boy.. I told her that there were plenty of them in New York and she might be better off looking elsewhere, I was trouble with a capital T.
Her voice softened and she asked me if I would listen to a song by Joan Baez, she was fairly new to the scene and had’nt made much impact in the UK yet. She played Plaisir D’amour and it went straight to that part of the heart that controls your emotions. I listened in total silence and ,as it finished ,she said “That was for you.” My mind was a jumble of emotions and I mumbled a thank you. I was in that booth for two hours, thank god I was’nt paying for the call. She asked if we could meet and I said no, someone was bound to get hurt and it would most probably be her. We said our goodbyes and I went back to the bar, we had some serious drinking to do and we did’nt leave the Diner until we were ushered out at closing time.
My sister Jess had asked me to get an American outfit for her son Graham and so I made a quick run up to the retail outlet and bought him a Yankee sailor suit; he looked sensational in it.
Back in Liverpool ,we worked by the Sax while she was in dock and one of the docker’s on her was Chris’s cousin, a great kid. We let him tag along on our drinking sessions . Night time would find us meeting up Yate’s on Lime Street, we would have a few large whites and then amble along to the American Bar and have a look at what was occurring there, we always drank halves while we were looking, did’nt want to spend too much time there if there was no life. We got to the Crown and bumped into Sid and his missus plus a few other girls (Chris was courting and was’nt playing the field) We had a few jars with Sid and his harem and his missus asked if we would like to meet up the next night and have a pub crawl, we agreed to meet at Yates’s the next night . We stayed with them until closing time and I got into a huddle with one of the harem. From the clinches we got into ,tomorrow looked very promising. I spent Sunday with the family, Jess and her hubby came up with the kids for Sunday dinner and we dressed young Graham in his Gob suit.
We took him up to see his Dad and Granddad at the Railway pub and everyone just flipped, he looked like he was out of a movie. (I did’nt usually go on midday drinking sessions if I was going to go out in the evening ,I knew my limit, but there were some in the family who thought I was bent.
Well we met up ,as promised, in the Wine Lodge .Chris had brought his girl friend, a nice catholic girl, this was a mistake. But then we did’nt know then what we were in for, the photographs Sid showed us should have warned us.
We did a tour around Lime Street ,down to Ma Egertons ,eventually landing up in the Wine Lodge opposite Blacklers. At closing time Sid invited us all back to their flat in Devonshire Road, one of those large late Victorian 4 storey houses. Sid had the flat at the top of the house and the rest of the flats were occupied by women who were either separated or divorced. Chris’s girl friend was made about as welcome as a pork sandwich in a mosque. The women hated her because she was straight and unmarried. I could see that both she and Chris were embarrassed but Sid was our mate and we made the best of things. Sids missus kept on trying to get Chris’s girl drunk ,without success. At length Sids missus left the room and came back clothed in a see through nightie. “C’mon, let’s get this party going “ she shouted, pulling Sid towards her . She unzipped his fly and pulled his todger out “’Ere yar girl “ she said waving Sids appendage at Chris’s girl “’Ow’d yer like a go at that” Chris and his girl made a hurried exit and I was taken down stairs by the lady I had stalled with the night before.
That night was the start of a week of Bacchannalia, we would work until about 4 in the afternoon and then catch the bus down to Toxteth, there we would get fed like fighting cocks, one of the inhabitants was an old lady called Josey, we gave her money and she would get the food in and cook it . It was the same everynight ,steak ,egg and chips but who was complaining. Chris was back with us, his girl friend had dumped after that first night, she thought we were all bound for hell, the lady I had enjoyed fancied Chris more and they ended up as a pair for the week .
When we turned up for our meal on the Thursday night there was no food waiting for us ,we looked at the girls and asked what the score was. “It’s Josey , she’s on strike“ “Yer wot!!” “Well” said Sids missus ,”everyone is ‘avin’ a bit ‘cept Josey. An’ she sez if she can’t ‘ave bit then yiz can get yer own dinners” We were thunderstruck, this toothless old woman wanted one of us to give her a portion, thing was ,who was going to give her one?
The four of us tried wheedling the girls to put the food on but they said they were showing solidarity with their sister, she only had a bit of nookie when the West Indian window cleaner was on his round and he had’nt been seen for two months. Sids missus said that we should draw straws ,the one with the shortest straw would do the job.
So, it was with great trepidation that we entered into the draw. Sids missus held out the staws and we each picked one . I near had a seizure when I saw that I had drawn the short straw. I got up to leave and the three others barred my way, I told them there was no way I could do it “She’s bloody toothless, my grandma is’nt that old. “ Sid’s missus shouted to Josey to put some make up on and to put her teeth in.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, I was led to Josey’s bedroom. At least she had taken off her wrap around pinny !
I literally closed my eyes and thought of the steak and chips that would follow this deed, I could feel her getting passionate and she cried out “Why me, of all the girls ,why did you pick me?“ “ Because I lost the bloody draw,that’s why Josey!”
Our dinner that night was splendidly cooked and we went down to Speke to meet some of Sids Missus’s family and friends in the pub by the bus terminus in Eastern Avenue.
They were a real bunch of cut throats, nearly everyone of them had served time for GBH and one of them had been in the same class as me at school. It was like dining with tigers, you knew that sooner or later one of them would take a bite out of you. Conversation was very stilted, we four had nothing in common with these guys,one of them had a face on him like Crewe Junction ,the scar like tracks ran all over. Sid’s missus’s brother turned out to be a well; known Garston mobster and he kept giving me the hard stare. I heard someone whisper “ E’s gonna do the bleeder in the green shirt” and I looked across the table at Chris, he had a green sports shirt on. I tried to catch his eye to warn him, but all I was doing was getting the glare from the mobster. I had to go for a pee and, when I was passing a wall mirror, saw that I was wearing a bright emerald green shirt. So that was the reason for the hard stare!
I hurried into the W.C. and made a quick exit through the toilet window, there a bus at the stop and I legged it to it and made my way upstairs. The bell rang and the bus started off, it went around the roundabout and stopped the other side, right next door to the pub! . I was spotted and the gang piled aboard , up stairs they came and settled a couple of seats away, some of them had flick knives and others brass knuckle dusters. There was one other passenger upstairs, were they waiting for him to get off? They were openly discussing what they were going to do with me. Me ? I was just about holding myself together, stomach was giving me grief ,but at least I did’nt cry!
The kid I went to school with was sitting nearest to me and I vainly tried to open a conversation with him ;I asked where he was working ,no answer, “hows your kid?” His brother was in a variety show; no answer. He turned and looked at me “ You’ve been ‘avin’ it off with Johnny’s wife” he said “ You’re dead meat Brian”
The other passenger ,hearing some of this conversation interjected “Hey you guys, it’s not British,all you wanting to fight him” He was an American ;they all started arguing with him and I jumped up and made a fast exit by Bryant and Mays. I fled across to the tenements and made my way through to the dump and then to the Horrocks Avenue estate. I caught the 86 bus into town and made my way home. That was my last night with the ladies from Devonshire Road. We’d be back in New York soon.
Below you can see the Saxonia and my nephew and niece in their Yankee sailor outfits
Nice one Brian.
Excellent Brian, really enjoyed that, best so far!
Tony
thumbs up Brian
Which side of the family were the nephew and niece
Bill,,,,,,,,,,,
Hi Bill, Jeanette and Graham were jessies children;Jeanette turned 50 last September,how time flies,
BrianD
New York 4
I964 was a time when great changes seemed to be happening, we had a decrepit Conservative government and several scandals served to turn people against the Tories.
Like most seaman I was vaguely aware of politics but some scandals seemed so great as to be unavoidable no matter where you looked..The biggest, began to unfold itself during the prosecution of a black man named Lucky Gordon, the public, ever fond of scandals ,were amazed when the prosecution of a pimp began to ensnare politicians, diplomats and prostitutes. Television had a field day and a programme that was very popular ,That was the Week that was, had such biting satirical sketches about the affair that the then prime minister ,Alec Douglas Home, had the programme closed down.
It was a political miscalculation of enormous proportions. We spoke of little else in the mess room ,from a purely salacious aspect of course. Mandy Rice Davies and Christine Keeler were very fanciable to most sailors.
However ,back to things mundane, one of the greatest changes in the early sixties was the beginning of pirate radio. Those of us up in Merseyside could receive broadcasts from Radio Caroline ,which was based in the Irish Sea. It was the closest thing we had to American pop music radio. There were no land based commercial radio station in Britain back then. The Musicians Union had a deal with the BBC that only so many records a week could be played and most of the new songs coming over from the States were covered by live bands and orchestras. Seems bizarre now ,but you had the like of the Billy Cotton Band Show featuring some of the great hits of the day by stars like Sinatra ,Como , the Platters ,Everly Brothers et al. Vocals were done by a wheezy old guy called Alan Breeze and a Scots lady called Kathy Kaye. Request programmes like Housewives Choice and Two Way Family Favourites were very popular because they played records ,but very rarely did they play rock and roll. Until Caroline , people interested in good solid sounds had to tune in to Radio Luxembourg, which started in the evening but was very bad for reception. You needed a letter from God to get a request played on the air back then, along came Caroline.
Chris and I thought we would get a request played for the girls at Devonshire Road, they had the stationed permanently tuned to Caroline. We knew a sure fire of getting that request.
When we got back to New York ,I bought a big postcard of the Statue of Liberty and posted off our request which we couched in the following way, ”Hi Baby Bob(he was one of Carolines American DeeJays) I was cruising around the dial of my radio the other night and heard you show. I could’nt believe when I heard where you were broadcasting from. You sounded almost like the real McCoy. So Bob if you ever get the chance I wonder if you could play a Four Seasons record for some pretty ladies who live in Devonshire Road in Liverpool; it would sure make their day, Regards from New York, Brian and his friend Chris.” That request got played……and played…and played.. I was listening to Caroline about 6 months later and I heard Baby Bob Stewart doing his spiel “ You are listening to Radio Caroline ,Broadcasting to the entire empire ,and even the US of A…….” this would be followed by a replay of our request.
So here we are ,back at Pier 50 and enjoying the delights of the Big Apple; there was a swatch of mail waiting for me when we docked , the bulk of it from my phone friend Lisa. It took me most of Sunday afternoon to read them , she came across as a flower child in her writing, loved walking naked in the warm summer rain, around her garden I hasten to add, she liked Streisand, Nillson ,Dylan and English rock groups. Her writing was very descriptive and she wrote of her hopes and dreams for the future. Kennedy had not long been assassinated and he was still untarnished in the eyes of most young people ,she spoke of the sadness felt on the campuses across the whole of America. Vietnam had not yet become monstrous maw in which the lives of young people, Vietnamese and American, would be so tragically ended. The buds of flower power were burgeoning though we had not yet heard that name.
She phoned me every lunch hour ,regular as clockwork, she would ask if we could meet and I would gently steer the conversation away from that subject. I had a Scots lassie who I was seeing of a night time, she was lovely and it looked like we might get close this time.
Money was a problem when you are burning the candle at both ends ; one way of making up the shortfall was to sell your blood. British blood could be sold at the major hospitals for ten dollars a pint . Four of us went up one afternoon, Chris, a big loon Joe ,Johnny Moore? And me. You have to have a blood test before the take your blood, this consisted of *****ing your thumb and squeezing a drop into a glass of clear liquid , if it sank to the bottom you were O.K.
The other donors that sat in the waiting room were the type you see on park benches of a morning, sipping meths or cider from gallon bottle. One little walnut of a lady was being given her ten bucks and the nurse said to her “ Here’yah Mary, get yourself down to the liquor store.
We four were laid in a row and I was surprised that Chris had a funny turn when they shoved the tube into his arm. No ten bucks for him. Joe ,who had quite a few drinks before hand, started larking about and waving his hands like windmills, the tube came out of his arm and he was covered in blood. They got the tube back in and our bloodletting was soon complete. Joe looked like he had been the victim of an axe attack ,but he was’nt bothered , we walked back to the Diner and nobody gave him a second look. They see axe murders everyday in New York. We went into the dining car and ordered a huge burger and fries each ,forget Mcdonalds , I’m talking hamburgers here, dinner plate sized buns filled with beautifully grilled meat. You took a ticket when you entered ,ordered your meal and the counter hand punched your ticket ,which you gave to the clerk at the tirnstile when you left. Chris ,Johnny and I finished before Joe and made our way out, telling the clerk that Joe was paying the bill. We stood on the pavement outside trying to contain our laughter as the very bloodstained Joe tried to explain his lack of capital . “ Where’s the dishes mate?” he asked the chef “ Feck orf ya Limey Bum “ came the swift reply. Joe took it in good part ,he was too drunk to comprehend what was happening .
I went ashore with one of the Senior Ordinary seamen that night, Cliff was his name .We both had dates with girls who were flatmates, one was my Scots lassie and Clifs was from Scotland too. Little Plum ,our deck boy ,tagged along with us despite all our attempts to tell him to go back aboard; he was hoping to get lucky. We met the girls at the Diner and they invited us back to their flat so that we could have some drinks on the roof, Little Plum got himself invited too ,much to Cliffs and my displeasure; the girls thought he was cute ,but we knew otherwise.
It was quite a small apartment, bedsit plus kitchen and bathroom. I went to the lavatory and found it to be very unladylike,the pedestal was choked with great big “havanas”.
The girls were very embarrassed and said that they had been waiting for the landlord to get it fixed. “I’ll fix it” announced Little Plum and went to assess the problem. The toilet had a screw plate on the back of the pedestal and Little Plum reckoned he could get the plate off and clear the blockage. Cliff and I left him to it, there was no way he could fix it ;or so we thought.
We could hear him grunting and groaning as he worked on that screw plate ,and then there was an almighty scream. The plate had come off and Plum got covered in the contents of the blockage. It was all over his head and shoulders and he stunk to high heaven. We told him to go back aboard and get washed off,he needed fresh everything and the girls only had ladies clothes. He made his way back to the waterfront in complete safety, not even the most desperate mugger would go nearer than 5 yards of him.
The four of us got stuck in with mops and cloths and soon had the bathroom looking like it should.We got up on the roof and had a few cold beers while we sat looking at the New York skyline at night , it was very romantic and our thoughts turned to matters carnal.
The four of us were nicely warmed up and were waiting for a way to start making love ,but there was only one double bed. It seemed awkward, we all wanted to , but we could’nt make the first move. Cliff got up and excused himself and went to the bathroom. Moments later he appeared in one of the girls baby doll nightdreses” C’mon get honey “ he called and the rest of us ripped off our clothes and paired off. As Johnny Ray put “It was a night, oh what a night it was ,it really was such a night…..”
We made love until sleep wrapped its arms around us and we descended into dreamland. I awoke ,fully aroused , fitting snugly between two pillow like buttocks, the wispy baby doll nightdress adding to the frisson ,And then I saw the shaved nape and the hairy back. I was snuggling up to Cliff because he still had the nightdress on. He stirred as I withdrew backwards, slowly ,very gingerly ;this was the stuff of nightmares. I liked him , but not that much. Just as I had separated from him he came fully awake.
His scream must have been heard in Hoboken. The girls were in hysterics and we made them promise not to tell a soul; all the way back to the ship, and indeed, all the way home, Cliff made me swear that I would never tell a soul; and I did’nt ,until now!
I had some time off for shopping on Thursday, I wanted to go up to 5th Avenue and get some clothes and so arranged to meet Chris in the Diner about eight that night. I had a good shopping expedition, even saw an attempted armed robbery in Howards mens store , three black kids tried to do a stick up and were outsmarted by the store detectives, they were armed and the kids surrended meekly.
I got to the diner about 7.30 and the p[lace was heaving ,the Queen of Bermuda had docked and a lot her crew were at the bar.Also at the bar was the guy Chris had given a beating on the last trip. He was sitting with about a dozen friends and they were tooled up for a fight, he obviously thought we were off the Queen of Bermuda! I was wearing my Brooks Bros suit and my panama and so was’nt recognised, I finished my drink and hurried across to the Sax. Chris was just putting his tie on when I got there;when I finished telling him what I had just seen he put his t-shirt and jeans on and we stayed aboard and caught up with the exploits of the Fugitive on t.v.
As the time neared for sailing I started to develop some kind of growth beneath my jawbone, I thought it was an abcess at first; as we crossed over the pond the lump grew to such proportions that Chris said it looked like I was growing another head. Whatever it was ,it meant my having to leave the Sax when we got back, I really did’nt want to do that.
You did say it was on your jawbone Brian ? Had me worried for a minute . Ron
Liverpool
By the time we got back across the pond that lump on my neck had grown to worrying proportions. As soon as we were tied up and finished on deck the captain paid me off and got me a cab to Stanley Road hospital. The doctor who examined me told me it was a cyst gone bad and that he would do the business first thing next morning ; meanwhile I was to go home and have nothing to eat or drink after midnight and be back there for 9 in the morning.
Hungry and thirsty, I presented myself next morning for the tender ministrations of the medical staff. They were brilliant, needle in the back of my wrist,count to ten and I was off to some black void.
I awaked to find that my head was swathed in bandages and I looked like I had been in a very bad accident. The doctor assured me that all was well and that I would be down to just a plaster dressing within a few days.
I caught the bus to town ,getting sympathetic looks from people who thought I must be worse than I looked. My main aim was to get me some lunch, a special lunch, one in a fairly good restaurant. I settled on the Captains Table ,which was by Horne Bros., I’d eaten there before and not been disappointed.
A nice sirloin steak,cooked medium rare with mushrooms,egg and French fries,that should fill the gap.
It was lunchtime when I got there and the place was filling up with ladies,blue rinsed and bespectacled, this was the lunchtime ladies favourite rendezvous.
I heard a few sympathetic tut tuts as I made my way to a table and a young waitress soon appeared and took my order. I emphasised that the steak be medium rare.
About half an hour later I was presented with a plate of burnt offerings;the steak looked like a lump of coke and the egg was solid,mushrooms looked like they had died of old age and the French fries were shrivelled.
I was outraged, and I was hungry! I skewered the burnt lump of steak on my fork and started banging it on my plate,nearly everyone turned to see what the commotion was. I called out “Fetch the manager!!” and a matronly figure came hotfoot across the restaurant. Before she could open her mouth ,I asked her if her chef was familiar with the words" medium rare". Eyeing the lump at the end of my fork she blushed; I pointed to the trimmings. “and these look as though they are exhibits from a museum Madam, if I do not get that which I asked for ,let me assure you that the matter will not rest here” She apologised profusely and asked me to wait while she attended to the matter. Half an hour later I was served the most delicious meal and she waived the bill.
It sometimes pays to complain.
My New York pen pal had sent me a load of letters since we left the States, I enjoyed reading them ,she was a very descriptive writer and she had a nice handwriting style too. So,while I was stuck indoors I sent her some replies, always keeping things on a conversational level.
Chris’s sister was getting married while the Sax was in and I was given an invite.
I love weddings and this was going to a rather special one because she was the first of the sixteen children to be wed. I thought Chris was joking when he told me he had fifteen brothers and sisters, but they were lovely. His dad was a docker and his mum had a part time job and they were one of the happiest families it had been my privilege to meet. I think there were more boys than girls, and his mum and dad seemed like a couple of lovebirds. That week at their house was busy with everyone getting ready for the big day.
They were having the reception at the Co op hall in Lodge Lane,that very same room that I rehearsed my dance steps so many years before.
I was hoping that there would be some nice single girls that I might get a chance to get off with. One of the bridesmaids was absolutely lovely and I really fancied her,but she only had eyes for Chris and he was totally smitten with her. They were married somewhile later and I last heard of him when they had a house of their own and a baby too! But that was in the future.
As is traditional in Liverpool ,as soon as the wedding breakfast was finished ,the men retired to the nearest pub while the women cleared up and made the room ready for a hooley.
We filtered back in about an hour and a half later and the dancing began, there were hardly any single girls there and I was having to dance with aunties and cousins. Around about 10 o’clock a group of girls came up the stairs and I heard someone say “ God,I was hoping they would’nt come” I looked over and saw a rather classy woman in a fur coat,blonde and scarlet lipped with dark flashing eyes. I got the feeling that they knew they were’nt welcome because they did’nt come into the room,they just stood at the top of the stairs as though looking for someone. The blonde locked her eyes on me and waved for me to go to her. Chris whispered “She’s trouble mate,watch it”
I went over anyway. She asked my name and if I was with anyone and when I answered she said “Come downstairs a minute” She had animal appeal,almost predatory ,and I was willing prey. She took me outside and into an alleyway at the back of the hall. She leaned against the wall and pulled me to her, no words were exchanged, our mouths locked together and I felt this amazing energy coming from her. To call it lovemaking would not convey what happened, I felt like I had been hit by a ten ton truck and I loved it.
She snatched my tie off me and told me to go back inside,giving me her address ,she said “You’ll get your tie back when you come and fetch it tomorrow.
Still dazed from our encounter ,I went back upstairs and rejoined the festivities.
Pretty soon it was time for jars out and we piled into taxis and headed back to Chris’s. When it t was time to crash I was put in with two of the younger brother on a put-u-up.
Next morning there was the hurly burly of first up and best dressed,no standing on ceremony there, whilst they all trooped off to mass I caught the bus home to Kirkby………………………….I had to get my tie back that night!
Nice one Brian.
Can't wait now, fancy stopping there. Come on Brian we've just gotta know how "you got" on getting your tie back.
New York Again
I had got myself into a crazy situation, this girl, that Chris had warned me off ,seemed slightly off centre. Beautiful, erotic and always ready for action,she did seem a few sandwiches short of a picnic. She never wanted to go out for a meal or a drink, never liked dancing or walking through the park. The only time we went out were to see her aunts and cousins ,who always seemed to think that I was her intended. At one afternoon tea at her aunts in Allerton ,her cousin sat next to J. and I was on J,s other side ,her cousin started stroking my arm behind J.s back and giving me little “come on” smiles. I could’nt get out of there quick enough.
I only ever saw J.s mum when she let me into their house, J. told me that her dad had been a British and Empire Light heavyweight boxing champion( Chris had told me that too) and that her two brothers were both in line for boxing honours. She told me more as threat than for information.
She had her own room on the front ground floor and it was there that we spent the most of our time,she never more wore more than a negligee and we spent our time making love to the sounds of Peggy Lee and Frank Sinatra.
Come going home time she would claim another piece of clothing or my watch so that I would return the following night. You can have too much milk and honey, sometimes you need something plainer. As soon as the stitches were removed from my throat I was back down to the Pool to get signed on and away back to sea.
Fate smiled on me that day, when I got to the Pool ,the Ivernia ,the Saxonia’s sister ship was a man short and I was lucky enough to get the job. She was sailing the next day and so I tried to extricate myself from my erotic entanglement with J that night;this time she took my wallet. “You’ve got to come back for that “ she said. I did’nt have time to write Lisa a letter to tell her I was on my way back to New York, I’d surprise her when I got there.
Apart from the name ,I could’nt see any differences between the Ivernia and the Sax and time has erased most of the guys that I sailed with. It must have been a good trip because there is nothing untoward that I can recall.
But I remember New York. On the afternoon of our arrival ,my curiosity was piqueing me , what did she look like ,was she as nice as her letters and phone calls. She was so different from J, she read good books ,had the same taste in music and like walks and seeing new things. I had to meet this girl.
When I wrote to her ,it was always to her office in central New York that I sent the letters. She worked at the M.O.N.Y. building and I knew she finished at 5-00p.m. I called her from a phone box at the foot of her building. She gave a little cry when I was put through “This must be costing you a fortune” she said. “ Five cents so far” I replied. She shrieked “ You’re in New York!!”
“Right outside your door” I replied. We neither of us knew what the other looked like and I stood inside the atrium as countless hundreds came cascading down the escalators and out of the many lifts too. I stood in the middle of the exit doors so that she might see who I was . I saw her first.
Blonde with her hair in a Grace Kelly roll ,Rubenesque,and such a lovely face. She was at the top of the escalator and I smiled up at her ,a look of recognition crossed her face and she beamed right back.
We walked up to each other and gently embraced, she was glowing with happiness. I walked with her to the station, she lived out a Long Island in a place called Oyster Bay. I knew nothing about the place ,or how far it was ,but we talked and walked and the next thing I knew was that I was on board her homeward train. Oblivious to the rest of the world we poured out our souls to each other. She told me to get of at Holland Fields or that I might spend most of the night travelling.
We met each other every lunch time after that, she would tell me of her dreams and hopes and I told her of my stalled marital situation .
It was her earnest wish to go to London and study at the Guildhall College of Music and Dramatic Art. Well,she was a dreamer, a little clerk working at the M.O.N.Y. building hoping to go to London to study for the stage. I had told her of my secret yen to write and she said the only person to stop me doing that would be myself .
Two days before we due to leave for Liverpool ,Lisa met me carrying a large leather bound tome.. I thought she was giving it to me, she handed it to me and said “ Can you take this over for me,you can give it back to me in London”
I must have looked puzzled,”What do you mean?” I asked. “Pop’s paid for a place for me at the Guildhall college, I’m going to be a student”
I found this very hard to take in, she was going to London, her Pop’s friend in England,Lord Denning would be her guardian and we could be together ,me writing and she studying. My mind began to crumble at the edges, the only money I had was what I earned this trip, I had maintenance to pay and I certainly could’nt afford to live in London. Lisa could see my anxiety “you can do it, you can do any thing you want if you put your mind to it!”
She pressed the book of poetry into my hands. “Bring that to me in London!”
She then asked if I would go with her while she went to pick up some clothes her mother had purchased for her at Bergdorff Goodman for her stay in London. I was in my working clothes but I went with her in the Yellow Cab. When we got to the store I saw that it was like an upmarket Harrods,she told the cabbie to wait and I sat with him while she went to pick up her clothes. The cabbie, a real New Yorker,said ,as soon as Lisa had got out “Say Buddy,where did a bum like you pick up wid a bit o’ class like dat!” I asked him what he meant, “ I heard her say she lived in Oyster Bay,only class live there ,da Kennedy’s ,Sargent Shriver an ‘ all dem guys. An’ shoppin’ at Bergdorf Goodman, you don’t know?!!”
It began to fall into place ,maybe that is why she never let me take her home.
On the way back to the docks I had a lot of things going on in my head, I could’nt see myself as a striving writer ,living on the dole in a cold water flat, nor could I see myself chained to a sex only beauty who thought of nothing but new positions. I took Lisa’s book, like most of my life ,I was going to put myself in Fortunes hands.
Hello Brian
Enjoying your narrative. Fine work, mate.
Chris
Nice one Brian. Keep 'em coming.
The Great Escape
When I got home to our house in Kirkby ,mum told me that a policeman had called during the week, he was trying to serve a summons for some reason or other. I went hot foot to the solicitors in Dale Street, the one’s who had ben acting for me throughout my separation . Everytime I visited it cost £7-10s.,not much now ,but a hefty whack then. The solicitor who had been acting for me for the past 18 months had left the practise and one of the older partners took me into his office and informed me of the worst. The man who had been supposed to be helping me had been negligent in his handling of the brief and I had been pursued by my ex for more money. I had had no information ,other than the attempted serving of a summons for a court appearance ,and for the wilful ignoring of other summonses. I had known nothing at all about this and being ignorant of all things legal ,did not realise how serious at fault the solicitor had been. The old solicitor was apologetic and said that ( and even today I still find this advice incredible) I should leave Liverpool and perhaps stay away for awhile. I now know I could have sued the practise for malfeasance ,but I was still wet behind the ears then.
Meanwhile I had to get my wallet back from J. before I took my leave of Liverpool.
When I got to her house that night I was welcomed into the parlour with the news that we were to be married! No, she was’nt pregnant but her family,who I had’nt met except for her mother when she let me in, thought we should get hitched. I played along with her game ,long enough to get my wallet back.She had’nt touched the contents ,it was’nt much but it was needed. I feigned a headache and said that I would make it up tomorrow. She wanted another keepsake to ensure that I would be back and I gave her the panama I had just bought in New York ,I had two other hats and could afford to lose that one.
As we said goodbye at her door she said that if Idid’nt turn up the next night she would send her brothers to sort me out. What kind of start to married life would that be.
I got home and picked up my bags ,kissed Mum goodbye and gave Dad a hug ,the kid sisters were abed ,and I made my way to Lime Street station to catch the night train to London.
Lisa was already there and was going to meet me on the 10 0’clock train in the morning. I would be a few hours early.
I did’nt have a very auspicious start to my time in London, though not exactly poverty stricken, every penny I had was needed, I had no spare cash for frivolity’s. Stepping of the train at Euston ,I caught my toe on a broken paving slab and ripped the sole off my shoe. I was fuming, luckily there was a shoe repairers around the corner and ,when it opened at 9-00a.m ,I got him to glue it back on. I could have bought a new pair of shoes in Liverpool for what he charged me. But, come 10 0’clock,I was there at the station to meet Lisa.
She had been there three days and had been looking for somewhere that I could stay while we got things sorted, she was staying not far from Earls Court and told me that there where a lot of flats to let around there. We humped my cases across London on the tube and fetched up at the Cromwell Road. She was right, there were loads of flats to let, it took no more than an hour before we settled on one in Nevern Terrace. It was an attic flat , with a double bed ,sink and a gas ring ,not exactly home from home ,just somewhere to lay my head while I sought work.
I had to give a weeks rent in advance and, as I paid it, I realised that I was going to have to get a job fast before next weeks rent was due. As I was paying my rent, the landlord drew my attention to the house rules, no consumption of alcohol in the rooms, no visitors allowed , all heating to be paid for via a meter in the room, no more than two baths per week.
Lisa went out and bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate our new life, I asked the landlord if he had some glasses and he looked very dubious ,but he gave me them.
There ,in that cold little room , we popped the cork and drank to our future.
We must have been exhausted ,because we fell asleep in each others arms and were awakened by the maid who had come to clean the room next morning. I thought I would be given my marching orders ,but no mention was made of Lisa’s overnight stay. I got washed and shaved and made my way to the local Labour Exchange to seek some sort of job while Lisa went back to wherever it was she was staying.
I spent the whole day going from agency to agency trying to find a job that would cover my outgoings, all I was offered were portering jobs or dishwashing work. It was’nt looking bright. When we met at the flat that evening Lisa suggested we go to the cinema; she wanted to see the Brendan Behan film ,”The Quare Feller”. I tried to dissuade her ,money was the problem but I did’nt like to mention the ugly word. “ Let it be my treat Brian ,I can afford it” She opened her bag and produced a roll of ten pound notes that was more than I seen in one go. I must have flinched for she laughed and told me not to be silly. “it’s only spending money” I could’nt help but feel this was’nt right, I did’nt want to be a kept man. We sat through the film in silence, it was quite a bleak film anyway and later we stopped for a sandwich at a late night café. She could see I was unhappy and told me not to worry ,she was sure I’d get a job and then we could start doing what we had set out to do. I could not help thinking of what her father would say if he knew his daughter was being sponged on by some English bum.
She slept with me again that night and we found comfort in each other but I still had those uncertainties. I’d never leeched off anyone ,and I was’nt about to do so now . Next morning we split up again, she of to god knew where, and me pounding the pavements looking fo a proper job. If I could drive I had the chance of few jobs ,but I had only driven dodgems at the fair so that was out.
When we met that night ,she threw me completely, “ I’ve got the answer to your problem” she said, handing me an agreement. I read it slowly, it was for an apartment in Hampstead Heath . “It’s yours Brian, no more worrying about your silly old rent, it’s covered for six months now and you can move in next week” I was shattered, this was worse than I feared. I could’nt tell her what I was feeling because she had no idea of my old fashioned working class morality. I was supposed to be the bread winner, it was’nt her money ,it was her father’s, and I was sure he would’nt be too happy about some Limey waster living off his cash.
We slept together again but I knew that this was to be our last night.
Next morning ,we went our different ways again, me job hunting, supposedly , and Lisa back to wherever. I went down to the local post office in Earls Court. There, I draughted a telegram which was to be delivered to me at Nevern Terrace. I wrote it as though it was from the Shipping Federation ,ordering me to report to Dock Street Pool in Aldgate where I was to sign on a foreign going vessel.
I waited at the end of the terrace when it was time for Lisa to appear and we entered the lodgings together. The landlords wife gave me the telegram when we got in .”This came this afternoon ,hope it’s not bad news” she said . I opened it in front of Lisa and let her see the contents. “But they can’t do this Brian ,it’s not like it’s the military” I told her that I was a contract seaman which was true, and that they could take legal proceedings if I did’nt obey . We had a tearful last night and next morning I got my kit together and headed down to Aldgate East. I booked into the Red Ensign Hotel and went down to Dock Street Pool. They had ships galore and I got myself a berth on a Gulf tanker, the S.S Ceuta, we would have to join her in Antwerp and there was a whole crew going there and we would be travelling together via the Hook of Holland Ferry ,seemed like old times again.
Nice one Brian.
S.S. Ceuta
Whilst I was staying at the Red Ensign ,I met one of the men who would be joining the Ceuta in Antwerp. His name was Ralph Horseman and he was a real Yorkshireman from the town of Scarborough. Ralph was my age and had the same sense of humour that I had and he had worked at a quite a few jobs. I knew I was going to get along with him.
On the Sunday before we left the Red Ensign, I bought a Sunday Times, I liked the new magazine and liked doing the crossword. There was an article in the magazine about Rover’s new P6 ,I was never a car buff ,but this item caught my attention because the design seemed so radically different from the usual old fashioned looking cars that Rover used to produce. I kept the article and read it later when we were at sea.
Getting to Antwerp involved travelling to Harwich ,then the Hook of Holland and then by Belgian Rail to Antwerp itself. The Pool official who accompanied us got pie eyed and we had to nursemaid him the ship.
While on the ferry I made acquaintance with some of the other crew members, two that standout are a pleasant Ulsterman ,called, what else, Paddy ,and a man from Birmingham called Joe Aston. The four of us became drinking partners for the trip and how long that trip was going to be was anyones guess, oil tankers go where there cargo will fetch the highest price.
The homecoming crew were still in their cabins when we got there, busy packing and waiting to pay off ,we learned they had been away for over 12 months, there would be some tidy pay offs there.
By tea time that day ,we had the ship to ourselves, she was’nt too old nor too big ,her gross tonnage being less than 21,000 tons. She had single berth accommodation and the mess and recreation rooms were large ,bright, and air conditioned . She seemed very American in appearance ,with iced water machines in the mess and a refrigerator too ,something that I suppose would be standard now but was very much the exception to the rule .
She was in the process of discharging her cargo and would be having a tank wash before leaving and so we had some time to enjoy the delights of the old sailortown in Skipper Straat. Ralph and Joe had never been their before and I did’nt enlighten them as to what they might expect when we got to Danny’s bar.
The old “queen” still held court behind the bar and there one or two very beautiful “girls” awaiting some unsuspecting sailors. Joe’s eyes near popped out of his head when he saw the talent and Ralph was quite appreciative of the company too. . So ,there we where ,the three of us, sat at the bar ,me in the midd.le and Ralph and Joe on either side ,both with a young “queen” sat on his knee . A bar photographer came in and I got him to take a picture of the five of us, Ralph and Joe holding their “ladies” tight and me grinning like a Cheshire cat.
It was a Polaroid camera and I had the picture paid for and in my wallet before either of the other two realised they had been had.
We pub crawled around the red light district ,watching the hustlers and *****s making their moves and then decided to have a “Chinese” before going back aboard. Joe, being a Brummie ,persuaded us to go for an Indian instead ;he told us that Birmingham was full of curry houses and that we should try one ,they could be delicious.
We same across a little Indian restaurant in Canal Street and went in to look at the menu, Joe and Ralph settled on a Chicken Madras, Joe reckoned it would’nt be as hot as he had them in Small Heath,”Them’re experts there mite” he said. I had a steak, I was’nt much of a curry lover then. We sat and listened to Joe as we waited for our meal to arrive,he elaborated at length on Tindaloos ,Vindaloos and Pindaloos,some being so hot that you almost needed the fire brigade to douse the flames. We had got down two beers before the meal arrived; Ralph sampled a forkful and declared it adequate, Joe said it was very mild.
There was a bowl of chilli sauce on our table and I tipped the wink to Ralph and he picked up on my meaning right away .Joe was sat facing the window ,alongside Ralph ,and he nudged Joe ,” Cor,look at her out there “ he said. Joe looked out and I dolloped a spoonful of chilli sauce on his curry.
He did’nt seem to notice and kept eating, Ralph and I finished our beers and started to used the water in the carafe. Another “Cor look at the ….” Joe looked and I dolloped some chilli on his curry. Sweat started to break upon Joe’s brow and Ralph started saying how the curry was so much milder than he had had in Yorkshire . Joe mumbled about it not being as hot as a Brummie curry ,sweat now running freely down his fore head. One more nudge from Ralph succeeded in my getting great dollop of chilli on Joes plate. He was gasping now ,and Ralph and I had finished the water, the table was dry. Joe was slowing down ,you could almost feel the heat coming from his mouth. A window cleaner was outside washing down the restaurant window with a hose ,Joe took another forkful and let out a yelp and ran outside and grabbed the hose off the cleaner and stuck it down his throat. By the time he came back in we had three beers on the table and were splitting our sides with laughter. When his throat had cooled down he saw the funny side of it too.
Next morning we learned that we were off to Maracaibo in Venezuela ,I’d never been there before and looked forward to seeing somewhere new.
Our mess boy was very androgynous and had very nice legs, any woman would have been glad of a pair like he had. He always wore shorts, far too short ,and feminine jumpers and t shirts. He always had a little necklace on too ,it did’nt bother me, you are what you are. Trouble was he fancied me. I would get served first and would take every opportunity to sit by me , I tolerated it and took the ribbing from the lads in good part. But the kid got serious, I was sitting having my midday meal when I felt my crotch being massaged by his foot. He was sat opposite me with as smile that near cracked his face when he felt the effect he was having. I stood up and gave him a mouthful ,he was seventeen ,still a boy. He saw that I was angry and never did it again. But word gets round and I was teased something rotten, especially by Ralph and Joe. I settled matters with them by pinning the Polaroid of them , with the two Queens, to the notice board in the mess. Result!!!
The master of the Ceuta was a man called Frank Anson, he made an impression on me because he was an avowed socialist. On one of my turns at the wheel , there were just the two of us on the bridge and he asked me if I ever thought about politics. A most unusual question for a captain to ask a rating; I answered that apart from paying my union dues and hating the Tories, no, I was’nt what you would call political. He then informed me that there was going to be an election and asked if I would be voting. “I’m never at home to do that cap’n “ I replied. “Would you like to vote?” he asked. “ How” I asked him. “By proxy. If I get the forms would you vote?” I nodded and then he went into almost a lecture of how Britain was crying out for a change. This was’nt some barroom fire brand, this was the master of my ship and he was putting into words things that I had long felt. Next day he called a meeting of the crew in the recreation room and got the agreement of most of them to vote by proxy.
I like to think that our votes helped bring that change about.
Politically I was to the left ,but I had no political grounding; I was still working my way through Henry Williamsons massive work ,A Chronicle of Ancient Sunlight. It was a work of faction, the main character was based on the author and detailed his service in the trenches in World War One.
Real people filled the pages and you could feel his anger at the governments betrayal of the men who had fought in the trenches, the homes fit for heroes which never materialised , the unemployment and the means test. Much of what I was reading I had heard from my grandparents and mum and dad.
I was slowly sucked into the ethos of the work, the hatred for the profiteers and the upper class idiots that were in charge of things. A fictional war hero appears in the books about the twenties, Boy Birkin. A much decorated officer from an old landed family, he is naturally given a safe Tory seat and a place in Government and then becomes disenchanted with the uncaring attitude toward the old sweats, he then resigns from the party and crosses the floor to become a star in the Labour Party. I did’nt realise it but the books were shaping my politics, how much so I was’nt to realise until the 1970’s.
Ralph was a very interesting watchmate, as we sat and drank our nightcaps ,he would talk of some of the jobs that he had done. The one that interested me most was erecting grain silo’s. He worked all over the country ,on contract to the company that sold the units ,and he could make £200 .00d a week. He slept in hay lofts ,barns and ,sometimes in a farmhouse. There would be just him and a mate ,the bosses truck and he worked outdoors all summer; went back to sea for the winter. A job like that really appealed to me, when we got home he was going to see how the land lay, if it was possible ,he’d get me fixed up with him.
By now we were in Maracaibo, or, near Maracaibo, we were buoyed off with no chance of getting ashore so I never got to see Maracaibo.
We were there two days and we learned that our cargo was for Thameshaven, so no long trip for us then. We were all paid off at the Estuary and a group of us ,Ralph, Paddy ,Joe and me ,decided to have a pub crawl in the West End before going home. Well I was’nt going home, it was the Red Ensign for me.
We traipsed about Soho and the fringes of the West End, the three of them had trains to catch after closing time and we kept a watchful eye on the clock.
We were in a little bar by the French House when Paddy looked out the window and saw a gleaming white car parked at the opposite kerb. It’s lines were long and sleek and the car buffs began to make suggestions as to what it was. “Italian, gotta be, Pinin Farina I bet” said Paddy. Joe disagreed, ”Looks French to me; they know how to do style” I looked at ir,it was the car in the Sunday Times magazine .” It’s a Rover mate” I said. They fell about laughing, “ A Rover, Britain could’nt make a car like that “ said Ralph. “ It’s a Rover, and this fiver says it is “ I said putting a blue one on the counter. Joe was despatched to check the badge. He came back, awed that I had known ”It’s a bleedin’ Rover” he said and Paddy and Ralph went out to check for themselves. When Ralph got back he asked how I had known, I told him the truth and did’nt take his money.
Later on we were in the bar next door to the Empire ,Leicester Square ,when Ralph said that he had better phone his sister to leave the key under the front door mat so that he could get in the early hours. He came back to the bar flummoxed, ”They’ve changed the phone system and I can’t understand how it works” I had used the STD system shortly after it came out and asked him
to give the number and I would call it for him. I was a bit tiddly, I got into one of the phone boxes by the cinema and pulled up one of the books that were hanging by the phone. I opened it ,laid out the papers I had in my inside pocket ,wherein I had put Ralph’s phone number, and made the call. I never had a wallet on me, it was locked away in one of my bags ,but I did have my months pay, loose, and among the paperwork I had just laid out on the telephone book. I closed the book and let it hang back in the rack. Leicester Square was quite full now and there was quite a queue outside the phone boxes; a James Bond film was having it’s premiere in the Empire and the place was heaving.
When I got back to the bar I gave Ralph the good news and we finished our drinks and got a taxi to Kings Cross station. I told Ralph that I would pay the fare as I would keep the cab to go back to Aldgate, I was given no argument and felt in my pocket for the notes. It was empty! I had closed the bloody money in that phone book!
I was penniless. I told the lads what had happened and Paddy said “Let’s go back ,it could still be there” I told him about the queues of people who were waiting for the phone. “ You gotta try” he said and ordered the cabbie to get back to Leicester Square pronto.
The taxi pulled up alongside the phone boxes and I rushed to the one I had been in ,there was a young man on the phone and I leaned in, excusing myself, lifted the phone book out its rack and opened it, my pay of was still there. A mixture of tens ,five s and singles. The young man let out an expletive that would have brought a blush to an old salts face and said “Is this Candid Camera?” the crowd outside straining to see the cause of the commotion. Very much relieved ,I got back into the cab and we dropped the lads of in good time to catch their trains. Ralph said that he would back down the following week so that we could ship out together. Saying goodbye, I went back to the Red Ensign to start my weeks leave in London.
London
London is a hell of a place for Jack ashore, yes ,there are plenty of ale houses and dance halls ,but there are theatres and great museums and art galleries too.
In those days admission was free to most galleries and I would spend my days doing the tourist thing, and worthwhile it was too. The Imperial War museum and the Greenwich Naval museum would require at week at each place to do them any justice; as it was I spent a day at each ,plus a day at the Victoria and Albert too.
Some lunchtimes I would frequent pubs for a ploughmans or some such,back then you could get a good meal for a pound at lunch time ;I fouled up once though. I was in Kensington High Street, having spent the morning in the V&A and I was looking for somewhere plain and simple to have a bite to eat. Most of the places seemed a bit posh ,and then I espied a plain fronted establishment bearing the name ,Peter Jones , restaurant. I thought it looked down to earth enough to risk a pound and entered its door. Wrong move. It was a full blown first class restaurant, a maitre d’ met me at the entrance and summoned a waiter to escort me to a table. In the middle of the dining room sat a baron of beef on a carving table and a chef was slicing portions on to the waiters platters. I shrivelled inside. I would’nt get much for a quid here.
The waiter brandished the menu and I scanned the dishes for something that would’nt break the bank. And there it was ,steak tartare , I had never had it before ,but it was affordable and it was a beef steak. After the waiter took my order ,a foreign looking chef arrived at my table bearing a beautiful looking piece of raw sirloin on a silver platter, he flourished it at me, his face a question mark. I nodded and thought he would disappear back to the kitchen and cook it. No; he had brought a little trolley with him on which there were some knives ,a cutting board and some condiments and sauces. Smiling ,he placed the steak on the board and took up a knife and minced the steak, looking at me for approbation at each stage of the process. He added sauces and salt and pepper ,the knife flashing furiously. He then produced a silver mould an a scooped the mixture into it. I thought” Well ,it’s off to be cooked now” and looked as he turned the mould upside down onto a dinner plate and then garnished it with some salad leaves. “Voila” he said ,laying the plate before me.
Lunch was served! I like my meat rare , raw was different, and not something I would eat again by choice.
My nightlife consisted of going dancing in the West End, I used to alternate between the Lyceum in the Strand and the Empire in Leicester Square. The bands were first class, the Lyceum had Cyril Stapleton and the Don Lang Five and the Empire featured Ken Mackintosh and some other group which I forget.
You could’nt fail to get a dance partner at either of them and ,on my second night ,I met a lovely young Danish girl at the Lyceum. She was with her friend, who was very glamorous, but I liked Astrid, she was pretty rather than glamorous and I had noticed that she could dance.. I spent the whole time with them until it was goodnight sweetheart ,I danced with both ,but Astrid was interesting. She liked most of the novelists I was into ,she also liked classical music and art and we got on like a house on fire I walked her to the Tube but she declined my offer to see her home she was with her friend and they lived in the same apartment block in Putney. She gave me her work number and asked me to call her next day, yes ,she would like to see me again.
I went up to the West End next day and had a look around the theatres, there was an American Ballet company on at the Royal Court, the Alvin Ailey dance group performing modern dance. She had said she liked ballet so I got two tickets. Then I went to a little Italian restaurant in Greek Street and inquired if he had a table for two in the early evening. Yes ,they had ;I told the head waiter that I was bringing a rather special lady and would be pleased if they could make a bit of a fuss for her. They were more than happy to do so.
I phoned Astrid and gave her the news, “Don’t go home first, meet me by the Empire” She sounded excited and I went back to Red Ensign for a shower and a change of clothing.
The meal went swimmingly, the staff treated me like an old customer and Astrid loved the warmth and familiarity . We then strolled on to the Royal Court where we were treated to a marvellous ballet with some wonderful music. It was’nt Swan Lake, one of the pieces was “The House of the Rising Sun” the music was by an acoustic rhythm and blues group which had a black singer with the most haunting voice. There were pieces by Gershwin ,Aaron Copeland and other American greats and the whole ensemble was black. It was magic.
We took the Tube back to Putney and she invited me up to her apartment, the block was owned by the Danish Embassy and was used for housing their staff.
I was impressed by her décor, the walls were done in a mahogany veneer and there were little silver wall lights ,the furniture was in the same wood ,and the settee was an enormous black leather affair. Her drinks cabinet was full of the wines and spirits you would find in most good hotel bars and she poured me a glass of Canadian Club while she had a spritzer. There was a silver candleabra on the dining table, Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was playing softly in the background and we were talking about some French author. She gave a little shiver and said ”So cold” hugging herself. I drew her to me and said “ Shall we make love and get warm” She nodded and I scooped her up into my arms and headed for a door ,the only door ,apart from the front door, and carried her through it. She was shaking with laughter, it was the bathroom!
The big black leather couch was a put u up. In no time we were bedded and were each as hungry for the other. I awoke with the dawn chorus and slid out of bed to wash and dress. Astrid was awake when I came out of the bathroom and I promised that I would see her again that night .As I stepped into the hallway ,there were other young men leaving from other flats, aah ,those Danish girls.
I went down to Dock Street when I returned to the East End,my leave was due up and I did’nt want to run out of pennies before it was time to sail. It was the day that Ralph was due to meet me too and so I hung around the Pool in case I bumped into him. There was still no sign of him by afternoon ,I did’nt have his number to call and see if he was on the way so I chickened out and took a ship that I would have to join in Rotterdam the next day.
I got two tickets for the Prince Charles theatre and booked our table at the Italian in Greek Street, I wanted my last night with Astrid to be a special night. It was; the restaurant staff were marvellous and we could have headed straight to Putney after our meal ,but I had those tickets for the Prince Charles. It was’nt much of a show ,English variety at its very worst. Astrid fell asleep against my shoulder and I had to wake her gently for the journey to her place.
I ordered a taxi to call for me at her apartment next morning,six o’clock sharp. We were being picked up by coach to be taken to Heath Row for a flight to Schidaam.
Although we had only known each other for little more than two days, Astrid and I were as in tune with each other as it can take some couples a lifetime to get it together. We hardly spoke, the music played as we moved each other until we fell asleep, clasped in each others arms. The phone awoke us ,it was the taxi company giving me ten minutes notice. I had just time for a black coffee and a wash before the door bell rang. Our parting was not one of sorrow , we had enjoyed what we had had, life would go on and we would both meet others along the way ;but it was sweet while it lasted.
I had to get back to the Red Ensign, pick up my kit ,and then get down to Dock Street Pool, where the rest of the crew would be meeting to join the coach. As I was paying my bill , the receptionist at the Red Ensign gave me a message,Ralph had arrived last night. I just had time to see him as he went for breakfast. I felt awful ,I felt like I had let him down in the worst way. I lost track of him over the years, and if by some stroke of good fortune he should read this. I’d love to catch up with him again. It could happen, the next chapter was requested by a man I met later on that day in Heathrow airport. One of the lads I met through this site was his brothers best friend and when we were talking about his friend ,who lived in a tiny village up in Scotland , I recognised the name of the village and asked Clancy his friends surname. It was the same as the guy I had sailed with. When Clancy went up to Scotland ,my shipmate ,on hearing that I was still breathing ,told Clancy that he should ask me to write of what happened on the Rowanmore. 46 years have passed since those events, but the memory of it is etched into my brain . I just hope that I have the ability to to set things down as they happened.
I had just finished posting that last piece when I noticed I had some new e.mail.I opened it to find it was from Clancy, he told me that Jim,my old shipmate who requested I write about the Rowanmore, passed away and had just been buried. I am still finding it hard to take in.........
BrianD
Sad news, Brian.Quote:
Originally Posted by brian daley
Commiserations.
Kevin
M.V. Rowanmore
As we assembled in Dock Street on that smutty ,East end morning, I noticed a familiar face among the crowd. It was a fellow scouser, Joe Tilman ,and he had been a day worker on the Ceuta with me. He was a quiet man ,with a ready smile. Joe was from the south end of Liverpool ,a black man who came from a family that had been in Liverpool for many ,many generations. He was a stocky little guy who looked like an American, he always wore a hat when in his civvies,and a button topped panelled ,white seaman’s cap when working. He looked ageless,his face was unwrinkled, but his curly hair was iron grey ,tipped with white. We sat together on the coach and chatted away as we made our way to Heathrow. I was quite excited , the nearest I had been to a plane before was the balcony at old Speke Airport ,to be actually flying was something that I had never dreamed of.
Life was a lot slower back then, we were gently moved from book in through to departures in a very unhurried manner. Standing in the queue I got to looking at who my future shipmates might be ,there were an awful lot of Scots accents to be heard, and I could’nt distinguish who was deck catering or down below ,the whole crew was British. The guy standing next to me as we queued ,was a fresh faced Irishman about my age and build. Terry was his name and he seemed quite sociable ,we swapped a few tales about our last ship and we were soon through to the departure lounge. It was near midday and I asked Terry if he fancied a jar before we boarded ,he blushed and said that he was strapped, I said we’ll only have time for one and I had enough for both of us.
There only the two of sat at the bar and the talk quickly got around to who we were and what we liked. Terry was from the south of Ireland and had a lovely soft brogue, he had clean cut features but his nose was a little bit bent, a legacy ,he said of his boxing days. He had been an All Ireland light heavyweight amateur boxing champ. He had a very pleasant manner and we spent a relaxed half hour before we were called to take our flight.
We were going by Dan Air and our plane had been chartered just for the ships crew. I was amazed at how roomy it was, the seating was arranged like train seating ,four seats to a table, large square windows ,overhead wings ,giving passengers a good view out the windows. We had three stewardesses, all Danish and tanned with honey blonde hair. There was no shortage of ribald remarks from some of the lads but the ladies took it all in good fun.
I was seated among some of the Scottish contingent, opposite me was a giant of a man, Jim Murdoch was his name, alongside Jim sat Alec,an EDH ,from Aberdeen ,he had a high pitched voice and looked very Italian with black curly. Terry sat next to me and we were soon on our way. I was really excited when the propellers started to turn and the plane taxied to the take off area. It was Alec’s first trip in the air too and he was as excited as me. We could see the turbo prop engines just above our windows and I was amazed at the speed we seemed to be going at. As soon as we reached our flying height, the stewardesses brought china teacups and plates of biscuits and arranged them on our tables. The biscuit were coconut rings, and I’ll tell you why I remember . Alec and I were busy looking out the windows as the tea was served and had’nt yet noticed the biscuits. Jim, sitting in the window seat, quickly grabbed a coconut ring , hit his teacup with the teaspoon making a tinging sound, then threw the biscuit at Alec, and then threw the biscuit at Alec shouting “By Gawd ,dats jist fell off the engine!! Alec shrieked and near fainted while we near choked with laughter.
I learned two things just then, Alec was good for a laugh and Jim had a wicked sense of humour.
Jim, he had an accent quite different from the rest of the Scots lads, it was almost Scandinavian, his spade beard and bushy eyebrows gave him the look of a Viking. About 6 foot 3 inches and maybe 30 ish years old. He had eyes that had a thousand yard stare ,which could suddenly crinkle and twinkle with impish laughter.
I air trip seemed to take no time at all before we arrived in Schidaam, we had no drunken pool official with us this time and were taken up to the restaurant for our lunch. It was a grand meal which none of us had expected, the full monty, three courses , with a prime steak cooked to order as the main course. The young deck boy was sat opposite me,it was going to be his first trip to sea and his eyes were popping like saucers at the dishes laid before us, a bit different to sea school tucker. As he started to cut into his steak his knife slipped and he pulled his plate on to his lap. His shirt front and trousers were covered in gravy and sat stunned looking at the mess. The Dutch waiter ,who was still serving ,walked over to the kid and said “ Oh, does sir prefer his meals that way?” You had to be there, it was so funny. The waiter brought him a fresh plate and got him cleaned up ,but later, as he served coffee, when he got to the deck boy ,he held the pot over his lap and said “Would sir like his coffee there too?”
Replete ,we boarded our new coach and set off for the Docks at Rotterdam ,where the Rowanmore was discharging her cargo and old crew.
She was a Furness Withy liner, five hatch job with a jumbo derrick too, from across the dock she looked smart, typical mid 50’s cargo boat, all midship accommodation . She was’nt so smart when you got aboard though.
The sailors accommodation was very Spartan, after a series of modern ships where we had grade A cabins ,we were now back in the boondocks. We were two to a cabin, three draws and a locker apiece, no writing desk and no air conditioning. But,it is amazing how quickly we adapt and make the place your home. I bunked in with Joe, I knew he was’nt a drinker, and he was a good cabinmate in that he never felt he had to talk incessantly. We were both readers and I was content with that. We were put on the same watch and that made things easier in that we would be getting our heads down at the same time.
We had a night in Rotterdam and I subbed Terry so that he could come ashore with me. We went down to the sailortown ,but it was cold and did’nt sem too lively so we had an early night back aboard.
Next day we sailed to Emden, a place that was completely unmemorable, the docks seemed miles from anywhere and so we stayed on board .
November the third found us Poland,at a place called Gydnia. It was a slate grey day when we docked , the only visible colours in the docks were grey and red. The drabness being off set by the Red flags and communist propaganda.
The first person aboard was a policeman,he had an American accent and his first words to us,the men rigging the gangway ,were “Welcome to the People paradise of Poland“ his face a picture of sarcasm. Later,in the mess room, wewere having a cup of tea and he joined us. He told me that he was actually born in Chicago and that his mum and dad were old Polish communists who had emigrated to the states after the First World War. When the 2nd World War was finished and the Reds took power in Poland ,his parents thought that it would be wonderful to go home to help set up the Workers State . Nursing his cup of tea he said ,in such a world weary voice “Boy ,were they ever wrong” For a policeman he was a great guy, he told us what to expect when we tried to get ashore, he was our policeman, he would remain aboard and check our passes as we went ashore. There was another policeman,from adifferent division ,at the bottom of the gangway,he would also check our documents. And then, finally ,there was the policeman at the dock gate, he was the real *******. “ Best take a few packs of cigarettes and piece them off as you pass them ,they’ll nod you through” The black market was another thing he put us wise to, the official rate of exchange was 150 zlotys to the pound. “If you take your sterling ashore ,you’ll get at least 1,200 zlotys for a pound.” He warned us that there were plenty of rip off merchants and the best place to do a deal was in a place where there were other people. “ No one wants trouble ,too many police” He even told us the best bars to go to and how much a woman might charge if we wanted to spend the night with her.
I persuaded Terry to come ashore ,he was very good company, and it would’nt cost too much ,if we changed our money ashore. He was still broke but Ihad enough for a good night for both of us.
Our journey ashore went right to plan, we gave each of the policemen a pack of cigarettes and we got through without any hassle. It was a dark November night and there were not many street lights , the only bright spots were the twinkling neon light of a few bars down the street. We hauled up at a place called the Hotel Bristol, a place that had seen better days, before the Germans had occupied it . It had an air of faded grandeur ,a palm court quartet played out some Chopin and the waiters wore penguin suits. In the middle of the dance floor a nicotine stained chandelier hung down from an old rococo ceiling. There were lots of tables ,set as though for a banquet but there were only some military men,officers, who were sat with two very nice looking girls across the room. The waiter informed us we had to fill out a visitors ration card before we could order any drinks and that we were restricted as to how many drinks we could order. Our policeman friend had warned us about this , a few zlotys would purchase a new ration card. We made contact with a black marketer,the waiter was obviously on commission, and we went to the W.C. and did the deal. I got top rate and was loaded!! Like a Polish millionare!. As I walked back to our table, one of the girls who was with the military man called me to her table “Are you English ?” she asked. I nodded “ Can my friend and I sit with you?” she questioned . I asked her what the soldiers would think ,she snorted ”them,they are nothing, we like you”
I knew they were business girls ,but they were pretty and they were the only one’s there. I gsve the soldiers an apologetic shrug and the two girls came over to our table. They were excellent linguists and proved to be good table companions. After a few drinks they asked us if we would like to go to a nightclub, we were’nt supposed to leave the city limits but the place they could take us to was for the Party apparatchiks. “very special, good drinks and American music” We put ourselves in their hands and let them lead the way. They told us that this was a special night ,all the Party comrades were celebrating President Johnsons win in the American election.” No Goldwater,no war, everybody in Poland is happy” It looked like we were in for a good night.
Went there on my very first trip and had an adventure that I'm not prepared to put on a forum - but I'll tell you over a pint sometime.Quote:
Originally Posted by brian daley
Look forward to it Kevin,perhaps we could have one in the pie house,
BrianD
Anytime you fancy it just email me. Quite a way for you but only 5 minutes for me.Quote:
Originally Posted by brian daley
It's quite a story - expected to see myself one day in a porno film I hadn't known I'd be in!
Gotta hear this one Kevin...Quote:
Originally Posted by kevin
M.V. Rowanmore
This chapter is dedicated to Jimmy Murdoch, a great Man
The girls ,Terry and I ,took a taxi ride out of the city,which was very dimly lit looked very foreboding. There seemed very few people on the streets and no lights on in the shops, the taxi was, by contrast ,very comfortable, like a pre war Buickbut it was Russian ,a Zil or a Zim. We left the confines of the town and entered what seemed like a farm road, the only lights were those from our car . Soon ,we could see a brightly lit building in the distance, it was like a stately home.
We went through some wrought iron gates and cruised down a long driveway to the house entrance. It must have been built for a rich or noble family ,a hundred or more years before. We got out at the bottom of a set of steps that led up to a grand entrance, classic pillars lined the the entrance and two uniformed militia men stood at either side of the huge entrance doors.
They knew the girls and ushered through to the foyer. This was a grand hallway with a double set of winding stairs that led to a balcony on the first floor. The stairs and landing were filled with people , there were streamers and party hats,this was a party and most of the guests were in some kind of uniform. And there were women, lots of beautiful women.. How different this was from that cold, dark world outside.
Our ladies seemed to be very well known, there were many hugs and hurried introductions as we were taken to our table in the ballroom.
There was a live band, not a pop group ,but a full blown big band ,on the stage an the music was as good as anything I’d heard from Kenton or Heath. Tail coated waiters flew around the tables and drinks were flowing with speed. So this was how the other half lived. The atmosphere was very happy, these people were overjoyed at Johnson’s win and we had a few slightly tipsy officers and party members come over and shake our hands. They must have mistaken us for Americans.
I knew that we would be spending the night with our table companions, the feeling was there and the shared intimacy at our table all pointed to it. I got fed up handling the zlotys every time we bought a round of drinks and I knew we would be giving the girls the rest of it before we went back to the ship ,so ,I gave my girl all the money and told her to take care of us. She smiled as she put the roll of notes in her bag “ Is safe here Brian” she said and kissed my cheek.
We danced and drank and ,pretty soon, she said ,as all ladies do at some during the dancing “ We are just going to powder our noses” Terry and I surveyed the scene as they went toward the powder room. It was the best night we had ever had, a grand ball ,in a stately home with two of the prettiest girls . How lucky could two sailors get?
As we sat there in our moment of quiet reflection, a black eyed beauty with the face of a Botticelli angel came to our table. She had a troubled look on her face and ,looking at the door way, she said “ Those ladies you came with, they are leaving the house now” I must have looked puzzled and she said “ they ask for taxi, I hear them, go!!”
I raced through the tables and out to the entrance where I saw the girls climbing into the back of a Skoda saloon. I shouted for them to stop and they screamed at the driver who looked up at me with a very worried face, They screamed again and he closed the doors and jumped into his seat. I dived from the steps and landed on his bonnet as he pulled away. He was cursing me through the windscreen and I managed to grab hold of his offside wing mirror and one of the windscreen wipers. He roared down the drive ,swerving left and right trying to throw me off. I could see the girls in the back seats, their faces twisted with hatred as they poured out non stop expletives. This guy was not going to stop. He did’nt look like a killer, he looked very ,very frightened, but not half as frightened as I felt. It was like having a tiger by the tail, if I let go I was done for We tore down the dark lanes ,the driver imploring me to let go, he was looking very uncertain now. Soon ,the wail of a siren could be heard in the distance; it was coming toward us. I managed to crane my head round and saw blazing headlights and a blue flashing light coming towards us ; of a sudden the lights seemed to slew around and halt. The lights of the taxi soon picked up the sight of a militia wagon ,troops were getting out and they were carrying rifles. What the hell was going on? The taxi pulled to a halt and the driver had a dreadful look on his face. I sat up and and saw an officer walking toward us, he was unholstering his pistol and speaking in Polish. He signalled the driver to get out and some of the troops pulled the girls out of the back. They were crying and saying “Sorry,Sorry ,was joke please tell them was joke” The taxi driver stood trembling with fear , I actually felt sorry for him. The office was snarling at the girls and he said something to the men holding them. They took the girls handbags and gave them to him , opening them ,he held them out toward me and said one word “Take!” it was command not a request. I took the money out the bag and he made me take the rest. The taxi driver and the girls were taken to the truck and one of the militia took me back to the stately home in the taxi.
There were crowds of people waiting at the entrance ,everyone had heard what had happened and some party official had summoned the militia.
Terry was sitting with two girls when I got back in the ballroom. One of the was the dark eyed angel. Her name was Anna and I thanked her profusely ,lord knows how we would have managed to get back to port without her. We danced and had some supper and I asked if Terry and I could take them home She nodded yes ,but they did’nt live in the same place . I got all the money I now had and gave it to Anna, it was much more than we had when we came ashore, I asked her to split it with her friend and make sure we all got home safely. We drove off in separate taxis ,Terry to who knew where and Anna and I to her home.. We wen in to the opposite direction of the port and seemed to drive for about half an hour. Soon we came to the weirdest place. It was a small hamlet and was an absolute jumble of houses, houses built of every kind of material, breeze blocks ,corrugated sheets, wooden planks . Like something out of Mad Max , each “house” was fenced in and had barbed wire and broken glass topping the fences or walls. Dogs howled and snarled as we passed and soon we were at Anna’s. It was a three storey house that seemed to lean like the tower of Pisa. A tall chain fence surrounded it and there was a heavy steel gate. But no dog ,thank god. They had one but it was chained up in the back and would be let out when the last one was home. That was us.
Entering the seemingly tottering pile was a revelation. Although the outside was rough looking ,inside it was a little palace ,warm and welcoming ; all the walls were white painted and covered with family photographs and holy pictures, a big stove ,covered in pretty tiles ,stood in the corner of the room and ,Anna told me it went up through the house so it warmed each floor.
She poured us a glass each of Polish vodka and then , putting the lights out ,took me to her bed. Her put her finger to my lips and whispered for me to be quiet and gentle, her parents where in the room above.
Although the night was near freezing outside ,we lay beneath a duvet ,filled with duck down and above a sheepskin fleece. It was the tenderest night I had spent in along time.
We were awakened by cocks crowing and the barking of dogs. The previous night seemed to have ended a long time ago, it was hard to believe in the cold light of day, but she was here and I was sad to,be leaving.. We went down to breakfast, her mother was at the table and greeted me very warmly, she had made honey sweetened black coffee and two rounds of thick toast smeared ,not with butter ,but rich beef dripping. She gave an apologetic shrug ,not knowing that I loved its very taste.
After breakfast Anna walked me through the Hamlet ,we stopped at a store while she bought some groceries and ,while we were in there some ladies came over and started to feel my over coat ,stroking the cloth and making little mewing sounds. I felt so sorry for them ,to me it was just a coat ,to them , a prince’s mantle.
We had to go to the local factory to use a phone to call a taxi. It was a cement works , a big drab grey installation, Red flags and Party slogans providing the only colours around there. When we went into the reception, Anna spoke to the girl at the desk and gave her some money. We were then taken into an old dusty office where there was a phone and a table. We were causing a fuss in the office because there was a press of people against the windows in the hall, they were looking at the “stranger”. It felt odd. Although I had been to China and Africa as well as other places, I had never felt such a stranger as I did here. It was the poverty, that made the difference, they ,who looked like me, were so much poorer. It did’nt seem right.
We went back to main road and soon we could see the dust cloud kicked by the approaching taxi. Anna gave the driver some money and we kissed goodbye. It was about midday when I got back,Terry had been back a few hours.
We sailed for Bremen that night, I had Anna’s address ,and I did write to her, but I never knew if she got my letter . And what events awaited in Bremen ……………………………………………..?