Hullo Old Home

[brian daley]

The World Turned Upside Down
I made my way to Leman Street in dockside area, the Red Ensign seamans hostel was there and it was quite close to Dock Street Pool where I hoped to get a deepwater ship.
Aldgate East was the nearest Tube station to my new address, I was hoping that it was going to be very temporary, M. was still being paid an allotment by me and my funds were limited.
I emerged from Aldgate East station into a murky London day ,it was?nt called the Smoke for nothing, the air was smutty, wear a white shirt and you would?nt walk a hundred yards before little black flecks would appear on your cuffs,collar and shirt front.. You dare?snt rub them off ,they would smear and when you washed your shirt a rust spot would appear.. It was best not to wear white in London then.
I booked into the Red Ensign and got the keys to my room. When I went to unpack I found a clean square rig had been left in one of the drawers, I tried it for size and it fitted me ,I let the guy at the reception desk know of my find and he told me to keep it.
I had a look around the hostel, it was adequate, clean ,good rooms ,a t.v. lounge and a good canteen. I had enough cash to stay for a fortnight or more. I was?nt going to take the first ship I was offered.
Mick had warned of some of the characters who used to frequent these places , they could spot an easy roll a mile off ,don?t flash your cash was his last words to me. When I went into the T.V. lounge I could see what he meant. The place was full, it was near tea time on a Saturday and the betting men were huddled near the t.v. awaiting the results. Grim faced,papers and football coupons in hands,hoping their teams, or horses had done as they wanted . The atmosphere was quite fraught ,I was reminded of the many Saturday nights at home when my sisters and I had to keep absolutely silent as the clipped tones of the newsreader read out the results. It was thus here, only a hundred times more tense. Just as the music that announced the beginning of the results programme ended ,a big fat bearded man entered the lounge and headed straight for the t.v. ? Heyyy!?he cried in squeaky Kiwi accent
?Don?t yer know the Goons are on the other side? switching the set over as he said so.
There was the puppet of Colonel Bloodnock berating Bluebottle when a hundred anguished howls of rage erupted in the lounge. The air was blue and Kiwi departed , his back full of invisible daggers. He was a genuine character and I saw him many years later on a question time programme talking about transcendental meditation. He was a hippy ahead of his time.

I had a shower and headed up to the West End, it was Saturday and I was in the mood for a good night. I gravitated around Piccadilly Circus ,Leicester Square and Soho. I quickly realised that London nightlife would best be savoured in company. Maybe it was just the way I was feeling ,but all those bright lights and the hustle and bustle of tourists and night outers just served to underline how lonely a person could be. And the place was full of hustlers and cottagers. I took a slow walk back to Aldgate passing through the City and Fleet Street.
The early editions of the Sunday papers could be bought from the newspaper offices around about midnight and I got an armful as I strolled back .
I had an enjoyable Sunday morning, breakfasted in the canteen and then just lay back in my room catching up with current events.
I met a couple of guys down in the lounge that night , one was a local , well he lived in Ealing, and the other was from Newcastle. The Ealing man was called George and the other ,well,I only remember him as Geordie. George was living in the Red Ensign because he was leaving his wife, Geordie was there because he had just come out of hospital after breaking his arm on a Norwegian tramp steamer. He was destitute and was hoping he could get back to sea.
I spent quite some time with them and George asked me if I would like to go home with him and make love to his wife, as desperate as I was ,I was?nt stupid.
I got a ship, the Athelcrest and I would be going out to join her in Rotterdam at the weekend so, on Friday night I invited George and Geordie to go up the West End .
After a few drinks we went to the Lyceum and had a great evening, company always makes things better. Geordie disappeared,we thought he had pulled and as midnight approached we made our way out of the dance hall. Outside was chaotic , people were clustered in groups and I began to hear snatches of conversation, John Kennedy had been assassinated. It is difficult to convey the scenes I witnessed then ,men and women clutching each other for comfort ,groups of young girls openly weeping. It was like a prelude to some great disaster and in a way it was. I was leaving in the morning and would witness more scenes of sadness before the week was out .
When we got back to the Red Ensign we found Geordie there , with his arm in a sling again.
He had fallen in the dance hall and refractured his arm, he was in a desperate state. I gave him the money for his fare home and went upstairs to pack.

We had an early start ,the new crew had to muster in Dock Street and we would be taking the boat train to Rotterdam ,in the care of a Pool official.
The mood of men who met next day was sombre, that shooting in Dallas echoed around the world. It certainly put my own problems in proportion, they were just a handful of dust compared to that which faced the world. I, like a lot of other young people around the world had so many hopes pinned on John Kennedy, he would lead us out of the Cold War, a war that had existed or the whole of my life thus far. There was so much speculation as to who were the real killers , the American Military /Industrial complex that Eisenhower had warned of in his resignation speech was thought to be the main suspect. We would learn more as time passed. For now we had a train and a boat to catch.
The Pool official in charge of our transport was a huge blonde man, a lot of the crew knew him and they shared some of their beers with him on the train. We were a disparate crowd, from every corner of the British Isles. One or two had been at the Red Ensign and I was on nodding acquaintance with them. There would be time enough to learn who was who as we journeyed eastwards.
By the time we boarded the ferry the Pool man was well in his cups, as we journeyed across the North Sea he got drunker still on the duty frees. By the time we reached the Hook of Holland he was as drunk as a lord .As we were passing through Customs and Immigration he lifted the Customs official by his shoulders and put him aside ?We did?nt need this malarkey last time I was here, you b*st*rds were waving Union Jacks then!!? We were very embarrassed, but the Dutchman was good humoured enough to let it lie.
On the train to Rotterdam he fell into a drunken stupor and we escorted him to our new ship.

The old crew were departing for their home leave when we arrived,they had been away for over twelve months and were looking forward to Christmas at home. Some of the old crew stayed on board for the next trip, the bosun ,lamptrimmer and carpenter remained . They were company men and would be there for the duration.; the chippy was a fellow townie and he seemed to be a very friendly , the bosun was from London and was so weatherbeaten that he looked like he had been made out of leather. The lamptrimmer ,the only one of the trio whose name I remember was a little Irishman called Willie Brennan. He was a nephew of Brendan Behan the author of the ?Quare Feller? and was very loquacious ,almost Dickensian,in his way of speaking.

Our cabins were twin berth ,but quite spacious, the doors were in little recesses and pairs of cabins faced each other, it made things a little more private than facing right out into a working alleyway. My cabin mate was a southerner, his name and town have been lost in the mists of time,but he was a nice guy. He was on the same watch as me and the guy in the cabin next door ,Tam Goldie , was also on our watch. Tams cabin mate was an odd one , a Creole form the Seychelles , his name was very Welsh,Mark Morgan ,and I will dilate upon him as my story unfolds.

We were still learning of events in Dallas through the BBC Overseas news, the assassin had himself been shot by a known criminal ,Jack Ruby, the waters were getting muddier and we had enough pundits amongst our deck crew to keep things stirred up.
We had a young JOS, Arthur was his name, he was from somewhere down the Estuary, this was his first trip as a JOS and he was feeling his way into the job. There was also an AB who had stayed over from the previous trip. Big Benjie was an ex Royal Navy man who looked like he had just stepped off a packet of Players cigarettes. He had a proper naval beard ,above which there were a pair of twinkling blue eyes. He looked every inch a Jolly Jack Tar, he was what was called canned goods and poor Arthur became his target. In fact we had a cook who was of the same persuasion and he had a ?best friend? ,who was a young man whose family had escaped from East Germany and was now a deckhand aboard the Athelcrest .
The second cook was a young guy of West Indian extraction who now lived in London and was a very friendly person.

We learned that we would be escaping the northern climes and would be setting off for Karachi in West Pakistan. That suited me down to the ground, escaping the winter in home waters. After rock dodging for the best part of the year, it was a treat to get out into blue waters again. The crew were mostly deep sea men ,and trampers at that, my cabinmate had just spent over twelve months away on a Royal Fleet Auxilliary , Mark had just done an around the world run on an old Bank liner and Tam had done a long run too. They were good watchmates, laid back and in no hurry to get anywhere ,being at sea was what suited them most,and, looking back, it began to suit me too.

The Athelcrest was a molasses tanker and there were hardly any derricks to overhaul , our main tasks were watch keeping and scraping and painting, which we did endless days of.
We did?nt drink much at sea , a couple of cans at most , our evenings and free time were spent chatting , playing board games , reading and making and mending. Mark was a wizard with scissors and needle and thread and it was he who taught me how to make my own clothes. He wore a beautiful white duck canvas seaman?s cap and I asked him where he got it.
He told me he made it and I asked him how ? Get some duck canvas and I will show you? I asked the bosun if he could let me have a piece of the treasured cloth and he told me to help myself. Mark traced the pattern on the cloth and I had to cut it ,following his instructions. He then showed me how to make the peak , which would be stiffened by an insert of thick cardboard. He taught me to have patience in doing the needlework, tiny stitches ,so small as to be barely discernable, it took nearly a week but the finished article was excellent and lasted me for many years. As soon as I finished my cap I commenced work on a pair of jeans; I unpicked a pair of Levis that were destined for the ragbag and used them as a template. Weeks later, and well into the tropics , I had a pair of duck canvas Levis .again ,they lasted a long time.
Mark was an incredible character, he owned a plantation in the Seychelles and was on the run from one of his many wives, he owed too much in alimony and could not face the prospect of going back. After we had been together for a few weeks he called me to his cabin to show me his ?little treasures? as he called them. I wondered what his little treasures could be.
When I got sat down in his cabin, he pulled out a butter fly collectors case, a wonderfully veneered piece of work which opened out into two sections. It was about 3 foot wide and 2 foot long and had about 30 ,or 40 , little glass compartments either side. At first glance I thought I was looking at some brightly coloured insects and then Mark lifted the case closer to my gaze. What I was looking at at was little tufts of pubic hair tied with different coloured silk ribbons ,and beneath each little exhibit was the name of the owner of the tuft???and the date that hair ,and the virginity was taken. I sat gawking at the exhibits, there were at least sixty of them and each one represented a deflowering. I thought ? what a dirty old man? but reality proved to be a different case as I found out later.
Gradually relations become settled , shipmates become friends and you ease into a a kind of routine. Mark was a ship board friend but not someone I would choose to go ashore with,he was at least 30 years older than me and was interested in different things. My cabinmate, Tam and a chap called Harry Gambie ,became go ashore mates. Tam liked a good argument and I was?nt averse to the cut and thrust of a good debate, Harry and my cabin mate ,being of more equable dispositions acted as counterbalances to our fiery northern characters,we were perfect foils for each other.

It was Christmas when we arrived in Karachi, and not a joyous time at that, there was a famine there and starvation was to be seen everywhere you looked , sometimes it looked at you.!
We were sat down to dinner on Christmas Day; somehow ,some starving children appeared at our portholes looking in to the messroom. Gaunt faced and silent, they looked at us as we prepared to start our dinner. Not a bite passed our lips, we gave it all to the kids,there was no way we could have eaten while they hungered.
I went ashore on my own that night , it was too claustrophobic on board but no one fancied a shore run. The quay we were on was a long way from the dock gate and half way down it, there was a tea room, the night was quite humid so I thought I would stop and have a lemonade. An old gent dressed in American summer clothes came in and sat at my table.
?Are you off that limey tanker ?? he asked. I told him I was and he asked if I was on my way ashore,again I replied yes. ?Don?t go, if you value your sanity go back on board now? I must have looked puzzled, ?Son ,there are things outside that gate that defy human comprehension, children maimed so that they can beg; you will see untold suffering and now there is starvation as well? He asked me where I was from and I told him Liverpool,?That?s where I was born son, in Kirkdale? When I told him that I was also born there he smiled and asked if I liked curry . I?d gotten a taste for it in Blueys and answered yes. ?Well if I don?t do anything else ,I?ll treat you to a curry like you would?nt believe.? So saying he led me out into Karachi and down some narrow alleys until we came to a tiny little curry house. It was plain and sparsely furnished but the staff there knew him, a gingham cloth was put over our table and the little Bengali waiters began serving a meal from heaven. Old Scouse lived in Boston now and was an American citizen, he was on a Yankee boat that was on a regular run here and he had been coming for many years. We passed an enjoyable couple of hours before departing to our own ships, I was glad that I had met him and did?nt fel the need to go and look at the misery that lay in those streets, we would be gone tomorrow, but to where we did not yet know

[brian daley]

Goodbye Karachi
I remembered an incident that occurred as we were docking in Karachi. Small boats swarmed around us like flies around something rotten. These were the ?bum? boat men. They were not in the same class as those in Aden, or Port Said, these people hustled junk and low quality junk at that. Amongst them were barbers ,booksellers, boil suckers (true),fortune tellers and fakirs. They swarmed up ropes with grappling hooks and were pretty soon in everyone?s way, they were impervious to threats and imprecations ,the word No was not in their lexicon. One quiet and unassuming little man came to me as I was warping the stern rope on the drum end of a winch. ?Saab, I tell you future ,pliss? I gave him the sailors farewell but he took no notice. ?Pliss, no interfere with work? I swore at him and he said something that pierced me to the core.?Your face look very happy Saab but your heart is full of tears? I was hauling on the stern rope, this guy had just appeared over the stern railings, what could he know? He proffered a copper bangle which had little brass nuts on it. I noticed that each facet of the nuts had markings on them. ? hold in hand I minute and roll nuts? he said ? I go away and read future. Well he got this far, and it would?nt take much. I rolled the bangle in my hand and gave it back to him. ?You finish work Saab, I come see you ? I finished showering and went up on the after deck to look at Karachi, the little fortune teller sat on the taffrail. ?Saab, come I tell you? I had told no one of my marital situation, not even my cabin mate, so I was shocked when he consulted his chart. ? You are sad because your marriage is broken, soon men from your legal services will seek for you. Do not be unhappy. Allah is caring for his children and you my friend will be looked after. You will wander without aim and you will love many times. But your true love is out there, roads you travel will sometimes lead to nowhere , do not despair. I see a lady , younger than you but wiser too. Two children are shown , a boy and then a girl. You will be happy and you will die away from where you were born.? There was more and I thanked him and gave him some money.
I have never forgotten that little man in Karachi, most of what he said has come true , do we humans have our destinies mapped out for us?
We left Karachi under the cover of night, we did not know where we were bound, tankers were subject to spot markets and not manifest destiny.

We headed for the Red Sea and Suez ,whoever bought our cargo would determine our destination, it was still early January and winter would be making itself felt as we sailed toward the western end of the Mediterranean .We were hoping we were headed somewhere warm.
The news of our destination arrived as we left Port Said, we were going to Oslo in Norway. A mood of panic gripped most of us, we would bloody freeze to death, none of us had really heavy weather gear, not for Winter in Norway .
The cold weather hit us as we cleared the Bay of Biscay, I was wearing as much gear as I could get on and was still feeling the cold. I had?nt any gloves and so wore socks on my hands, it lessened the effects of the cold but not as much as gloves would. As we headed up the English Channel the engine started to play up. We had to reduce speed and the problem worsened , the Mate told us we would be going into Rotterdam for repairs. THANK YOU GOD!!
Shortly after we berthed in the repair yard the men from Sarnecki?s came aboard. Sarnecki?s was the finest duty free store in the world. You could buy anything from a tooth brush to the finest heavy duty winter clothing in the world. They had the answer to all our prayers. I bought a big fur hunters cap, Khaki drill trousers, lined lumberjack overshirts, a fur lined Khaki drill weather proof hunting coat, hip length, and fur lined jack boots ,plus gloves, woollen and leather ,for work and for watchkeeping. Winter could throw at us whatever she chose ,we were ready. The chief steward replenished the slop chest while we were in Rotterdam, he had a wagon load of stuff delivered. Two days were all we spent in Rotterdam , none of us went ashore ,the weather was atrocious. As we sailed to Norway the chief steward made a startling discovery. The men who had been working on the repair of the engine had brought aboard with them some very enterprising thieves. They had an oxy acetylene burner ,with which they had cut a hole into the slop chest. They had helped themselves to tens of thousands of cigarettes and some fine rums and whisky. I never found out what happened after that but the chief?s takings were hit,massively They had welded the plate back on to the hole but the scorch marks were visible
.
Our visit to Norway was, thankfully, very short. We sailed empty to the warmer climes of the West Indies, the wind slackened and the fierceness of the North Atlantic winter soon abated as we reached the Tropic of Cancer. Kingston ,Jamaica was to be our first port of call.
We were just a day away from Kingston and I was on watch below, Mark was sat at his writing table playing , what I thought was, patience. ?Trying to beat the Chinaman Mark? I called across to him ? No my friend , just looking at the future? he replied. I thought he was making a reference to the little fortune teller in Karachi. ?Are those Tarot cards Mark? I queried. ? Non, just ordinary playing cards? He looked at me ? Come ,I show you? I stepped across to his cabin and there were the cards laid out as though for patience. He gathered them up and passed them to me. ?Shuffle zem ? he said. His Creole accent was a rich as plum pudding, a bit like Charles Boyer. I shuffled them and Mark laid down a line of 8 cards.face down. He motioned me to sit and turned over the cards. Mark never knew about my situation, I had?nt told a soul ,and I certainly had?nt mentioned the fortune tellers forecast.
He turned the cards over, one by one, he kept checking and musing. ?Brian ,are you in trouble?? ?Not that I know of Mark, why do you ask?? He pointed to the two Kings that lay there, ?These represent Judges ,or the Law. The knave here is someone who means you harm and the Queen of Spades ??.are you ,perhaps married?? I said nothing .?The cards say that the Queen of Spades is using these men..? he pointed to the Kings ? to make some action against you . This will happen soon? I stole from his cabin, what could he know, a rambling old Creole.

Entering Kingston for the first time is a marvellous experience ,there were no high buildings then, the tallest was about 4 storeys high. It was a typical British colony , red roofed verandahed buildings with wrought iron balconies and white washed walls. The town was situated amongst lush green trees and the harbour waters were blue . We were berthed not far from the Myrtle Bank Hotel and you could hear the sounds of steel bands drifting across the water. Arthur the JOS damaged his foot when we were tying up and an ambulance was ordered to take him to hospital When it arrived ,my cabinmate and I were detailed to carry Arthur to the ambulance on a stretcher. I was wearing flip flops and was at the back of the stretcher. When we reached the ambulance ,the big Jamaican ambulance driver showed us where to stow Arthur. As I put my foot on the ambulance step ,it slipped and my toes were wrenched as they caught the edge of the step. I did?nt drop Arthur ,gave him a nasty turn though. When I had lain the stretcher down I saw that the toe next to the big one was upside down. It was sticking straight up in the air, I showed it to the ambulance driver and asked him to take me to hospital as well . He shrieked with laughter ? Aiee Man ,you sailors is always jokin?me.? He pulled away and left me standing there with my broken toe. I showed it to the Captain and he said ?Ye?ll ?ave to get used to it lad, keep wearin? the flip flops? And I did too!
About smoko time next day one of the midshipmen told me that the captain wanted to see me. I hobbled up to his cabin and knocked and entered. He had a big buff envelope on his desk. ?Daley, this is a notice of a court action to be taken against you in the matter of desertion, I think you should get some help? He passed the envelope across and it contained a summons for me to appear in the courts at Brownlow Hill. I was quite dazed, I would be hung drawn and quartered if I was?nt there to defend myself. While I was pondering, the captain was taking action. He made an appointment for us to see the British Consul. That afternoon I saw how efficient our crown officers can be when they put their minds to it. In that one afternoon our Man in Jamaica got me a lawyer in Liverpool and had the court case delayed until my arrival back home. How could Mark have seen these things in his cards? Let alone that little man in Karachi.
Knowing that some action was at last taking place I started to feel a little easier about life, I was only twenty one and had a whole life in front of me. Perhaps I should enjoy it more. That evening I went to the Myrtle Bank hotel .It was a fairly genteel place, very Victorian in ambience and the only black faces were those of the staff. Not a place to have a rip roaring time. Next day we left for New Orleans, now there was a place to have a good time.

[pablo42]

Nice one Brian. Keep 'em coming.

[clancy]

still watching and waiting brian

[brian daley]

New Orleans

We sailed from Kingston and headed North to Yucatan Channel , as we neared Cuba we were continually buzzed by United States Aircraft fighters, they suspected anyone in Cuban waters.
Soon we were off the Mississippi Delta and were taking aboard our pilot for the trip up to New Orleans. Old Muddy they call that river and it is easy to see why, after the azure blue of the Caribbean you come upon the brown of the Mississippi.
Our pilot had that lovely soft accent that makes New Orleans so different from the rest of Louisiana, not the nasal whine that you get in Baton Rouge or Pascagoula.
I was on the wheel during part of our passage up river and was treated to tales of the river, I was much taken with the idea that this man was very like Mark Twain. Given to hyperbole and ironic observation. Our captain was entering the river for the first time and was very interested in what the pilot had to say. He was an expert, entertaining and very alert to the matter in hand, getting the ship up that river safely against a very fast flowing river.
By the time we reached the port ,I was back on deck taking my place in the mooring party.
The docks were right at the end of Canal Street, moored just further down river from us was one of those big old stern wheelers that I had seen only in the cinema or magazines. It was huge.
I later learned that she was?nt old but had been built in the 50?s for the tourist trade.
My appearance was causing quite a stir here, I had a full beard and was wearing a K.D outfit topped by my K.D. cap and bottomed by my jackboots. I was smoking a King Edward cigar when I heard a voice call out ,?It?s Castro!!? I looked around to see who was doing the shouting and saw a burly policeman on the quayside. ? Jesus H Christ son, you look like a f*ck*n? commie? I just gave him a smile and carried on working.
As soon as we were able ,Tam and a Welsh guy, whose name I forget, went ashore to sample the delights of the old French town. It was late afternoon and not many of the clubs were open but we could see that there were lots of them, and almost 100% of them were strip joints. There was an old place called the Old Absinthe House where real New Orleans Jazz was played, and most of the players had been in the original Jazz bands. It was so different from the places that surrounded it , the building was done in old French colonial style and was bereft of any glitz. The people who frequented that place took their Jazz seriously.
I saw names on the different marquees that I had only seen on record sleeves before. Pete Fountain, Herb Alpert, Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughan, they were here at different venues at the same time. It seemed like a musical wonderland. We came across one club which featured the New Orleans Beatles, there was a photograph on the wall by the door showing four bewigged fellers in Beatle suits. Beatle mania was just staring in the States, they were due to fly over in a fortnight and radio stations across America were blasting out Beatles tunes all day and every day.
We were thrilled to think that four lads from Liverpool were making such waves. One DJ was broadcast nationally, his name was Murray the K and he was awesome. To those of us who were used to Pete Murray and Jack Jackson , this guy seemed like he was from another planet. Each day to him was Beatle Day minus ,however many days there were left before they were due to land at New York.
At the moment it was Beatle Day minus thirteen. Excerpts from Beatle interviews were played on the radio and the Scouse accent was beginning to be understood in the States as the Beatles accent. Those of us who spoke it naturally were beginning to find it was popular.
I went into a department store in the main shopping area and was buying a toy cowboy pistol and holster for my nephew, the counter clerk picked up on my accent and told me that she was from Liverpool, she had been a G.I. bride and was now in her forties . Twenty years of life in New Orleans had destroyed her Scouse accent and she was excited that she had met someone from her home town,she was even more excited when she found out that I had lived in Walton. She asked if I would mind if she took me upstairs to meet two other ladies who were ex Scousers. I was more than pleased to meet them and they squealed with delight when I spoke to them. My accent was overheard by a couple of shoppers who stopped to listen. They were young girls and they asked me if I knew the Beatles. An unscrupulous rogue could have made free amongst those Southern Belles by deploying a Scouse accent , I?m glad to say that I did?nt. My head was too mixed up already.
The three of us continued our way down to the old Fishermans Quay, there were tackle shops and old bars (they liked their booze there! ) and cheap clothing stores. We were looking in a window that had a display of jeans , Lees ,Levi?s ,Wranglers etc. There was a little fat guy in the doorway, he could have been from anywhere, he had men?s clothes shop almost stamped on his forehead. He was wearing a three piece mohair suit and Italian style winkle pickers, ?Where are you guys from ? he asked overhearing our accents. One Welsh ,One Scot and one Scouse,so I answered ? We?re British?
He looked puzzled and said ? Where the F*cks British ?? ?At one time , almost everywhere ? replied Tam.
We went to a hamburger bar ,the Mayflower, we got a bag of hamburgers between us and soon scoffed them They were mouth watering, unlike the double arches stuff that is sold today. It was still early so we went to a cinema, there was a British Hammer Horror on and we went in for a couple of hours entertainment. We got rather more than we had bargained for; anyone who has read Portnoy?s Complaint will be familiar with what I am about to impart. There was a double bill on, the first movie was a ?nudie? and the place was full of old men wearing hats. The cinema was not fully darkened and you could see the auditorium quite clearly, the action in the auditorium was more engrossing than the film.
The first screening was the ?nudie? ,this was an unintentionally funny film about a young man who wanted to commit suicide because he was tired of life and his lack of success with the fairer sex. He method of suicide was to fly his private airplane as far into the Pacific as he could and then jump into the sea. He was naked except for ??..a parachute. He jumped and the ?chute opened and he drifted down on to a desert island . He got stuck in a tree and was found by a female native ,blonde , starkers and silicone enhanced. She cut him down and took him to her village, which was full of nude ladies who were also well endowed.
The row of seats we were sitting in started to tremble and ,upon looking around ,we saw a lot of old men had removed their hats and were now engaged in five finger exercises whilst holding their hats over their whanger. We collapsed into laughter and received glares from the men engrossed in their activities. You could hear the sound of dozens of DOM?s whacking away and the usherettes threatened to throw us out because of our laughter!. When the Vincent Price film came on all the hats were back on their heads. The thought of all those old men walking around New Orleans with their hats glued to their heads still makes me laugh.
By the time the show was over the night life had started in Royal and Canal Streets. The place was heaving, live jazz bands were playing in all the bars as nude dancers paraded their loveliness on top of the bar counters. The bars were cheek by jowl all down the street and it had the sound of a funfair, the bars were open to the world so you did?nt have to enter to see what was on offer and there were hucksters outside each bar trying to drag you in. ? C?mon John, the best girls in the world, just for you? ?You like ladies? Try some of these ,all as nature intended? With my beard and KD.s I attracted a fair bit of attention ,? Hey Castro,. C?mon an see some Ladies from the good old? US of A?
We ended up back down on Fishermens Quay, it was quieter and the beer was cheaper.
Next night ,most of the lads elected to stay aboard, I went on my own to Fishermans Quay,I had to pass down Canal Street and was accosted at nearly every strip joint but I declined the invitations. I went back to the bar on Fishermens Quay, this night it was a little quieter and there were only a handful of people in there. There was a guy at the end of the bar who looked like he had stepped out of the pages of Uncle Tom?s Cabin. With his wide brimmed straw panama, pencil thin moustache and long cheroot ,he was a dead ringer for Simon Legree. With him sat a raven haired, brassy lady wearing an off the shoulder blouse which showed off her more than ample bosom. I took my eyes off her chest and saw him studying me. Afraid that he might take a notion against me I started to take a deep interest in the bottles behind the counter ,my head facing rigidly ahead. I could still feel those eyes boring into my skull. So I supped up and prepared to leave, ?Ah Know yew? his voiced boomed down the counter at me ?Er , you?ve got me mixed up mate? I stammered. ?Naw ,I know yew, the beard an? all?
? I?ve never been to New Orleans in me life mate ? I countered . ? Not Noo Orleans boy, Africa!!?
? Yew was on a lime juicer in Tema? he stated. I was , on the Sulima more than a year ago.
I was looking puzzled, ? Yew came aboard the African Pioneer swapping books? he said triumphantly. ? But I never met you ? I said. ? No ,but you did say hello? he said, ? Yew were bein? given a tour of our ship by that there officer yew was with? ?Yes ? I replied. ? Waal ,he took through the room where ah wuz working on a dynamo, laid right under it ?n yew walked by an? said hello?
I was amazed. ?Ah nevah fergits a face? He motioned to the stool beside his girl ?Yew gottah have a drunk with me now? Well I did have a drink or two and we were being joined by his red necked friends. He went through the whole story with each new arrival ,it was around about two hours later when he announced it ?Wuz time we shot us some ?coon? There were guffaws and back slapping ?Yew ever bin ?coon shootin??? he asked me . I shook my head ,?Well we got a gun you kin have? I slowly became aware that it was?nt raccoons they were after. I looked at my watch and told them that I was due on watch duty. I got out of there fast.
Back up the street of Boobs and, just as I was walking to the docks, I saw Mark Morgan making his way toward town. He waved me to him and asked if I would show him around ,so we wandered back down Boob street and Mark had to be dragged away from every window. He was like a kid in a sweet shop. We made it back down to the bar in Fishermans Quay which was now empty save for a couple of young students. They looked like a typical college romance, he in his alumni jacket and she in jumper and tweed skirt. We were standing at the bar and Mark was dilating on his marital problems when the young co-ed came and stood beside him.? Gee, you have a beautiful voice sir ? she said . Mark turned and smiled at her ?And you ,my young lady, are very beautiful? he said in that deep brown Creole accent. I could see how he had amassed that fantastic collection of beribboned tufts. She was drawn like a moth to his flame. The ex boyfriend and I left the bar at the same time, she had her tongue down Marks throat when I left. He was 57 to her 18, I could?nt fathom females ,still can?t ,so no changes there.
I had to walk back up Boob street and when I was half way up it, one of the door men came over to me and said ? Mister when you walk down this street you?re going somewhere ,when you walk back up this street ,you?ve been somewhere; but when you walk along a third time , you?re just a cheapskate freeloadin? S.O.B? I was too amused to be embarrassed.
We sailed back to Jamaica next day. New Orleans could be fun, if you had a big wallet.
Mark was fitting another little ?butterfly? into his display case the next morning.

.

[pablo42]

Nice one Brian. Love your stories.

[kevin]

Sailed to New Orleans many times in the 70s. Had some great nights in music bars - it gets in your blood.

[pablo42]

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.

[kevin]

Had some good times there meself Kevin. Don't remember much though.

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.
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!

[brian daley]

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.

[brian daley]

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?

[kevin]

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.

[brian daley]

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.

[clancy]

divorce brian is a very expencive word I KNOW but it was worth every penny

[brian daley]

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.