Tag Archives: Coast Road

Remembering the Coronation through Wills’ employees’ eyes

Heaton History Group member Michael Proctor is currently clearing his mother in law’s house after she had to move into care earlier this year and came across some interesting records from the WD & HO Wills factory. He writes:

Both my mother in law, Jean Jobbins, and her late husband, Ern, worked for WD & HO Wills in Bristol, before moving to Newcastle when they married in 1950 to help set up the Newcastle factory on the Coast Road. They were among a number of key workers who made the move north in order provide the new factory with the essential skills to get off the ground.

Wills Factory Exterior

Wills Factory Exterior

Ern was a store keeper and Jean worked in the lab, doing quality control work on the product. In line with the times, Jean gave up work after they married to set up home in a council house on Newton Place, High Heaton, so never worked at the Newcastle factory, but Ern continued to work there until his retirement.

Among the treasures I found were a number of bound copies of the Wills’ staff magazine. Sadly they all dated to the early 1920s, while Ern would still have been a schoolboy and Jean wasn’t born, so it’s anyone’s guess how they came by these treasures. As the Newcastle factory opened in 1950, the magazines obviously don’t mention it. What they do though is paint a vivid picture of life for Wills’ employees. There are reports on a whole range of sports and social activities, works outings, children’s parties and births marriages and deaths as well as diverse range of articles penned by Wills’s staff including accounts of foreign holidays and articles on the development of banks in Glasgow and the history of No 53 Holborn Viaduct (in three parts). The articles complement what we have been told about life at Wills’ Factory on the Coast Road by former employees, Olga Jackson and Laura Young.

Wills Factory stage in the canteen

Wills Factory stage in the canteen

What I also found though was a special edition of the magazine produced to commemorate the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II on 2 June 1953. Interestingly, the report of the coronation is written primarily through the stories of employees of WD & HO Wills who took part in them.

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The report of preparations for the day and the actual event is told by D Tuckwell and NK Hawkes from Bristol and A Anderson from Newcastle, all members of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, whose role on the day was to line the route of the procession. They can be clearly seen in the pictures of the procession. Not surprisingly, with a name like A Armstrong, I’ve been unable to identify the individual, but their accounts of the weeks leading up to the event and the coronation itself make interesting reading. The story is told primarily by NK Hawkes.

On our arrival at Chatham Barracks on Sunday 24th May, it was made obvious that there was no time to be lost in preparing for “C” Day. Our training during the next seven days consisted of “square bashing” and “Operation Coronet”, which entailed such things as standing perfectly still for what seemed days and presenting arms to an old Ford car with a crown on top and, on one occasion, to a corporation dustcart. In spite of many comments, we found all of this to be to good purpose.

We moved to Clapham Deep Shelter on Sunday 31st May, and at dawn on Monday about 5,000 naval ratings were disturbing the peace of Clapham preparing for a full scale rehearsal. Leave for ratings in the afternoon found us in London inspecting the Coronation route, in particular the places where we would be standing the following morning. Already potential spectators were four deep along the route, making themselves as comfortable as possible in the inclement weather. The genius of some was amazing to see. Lean-to shelters, made of paper, waterproofs and so on, gave little protection from the weather, but everywhere one felt the mounting excitement as the hours ticked slowly by. And so to bed!

The dawn of “C” Day found us “ship-shape and Bristol fashion”, ready to em-bus at 6.30. From Clapham we moved in convoy to the Victoria Embankment. On taking up our positions for route lining duties we were cheered by a mass of thousands of schoolchildren waiting eagerly to see their Queen.

Now the hours of work at Chatham paid off. The correct salutes and acknowledgements were made in their proper order to the Lord Mayor of London and his Lady, to all fifty cars of the foreign representatives, to our Prime Minister and those of the Dominions, to the Princes and Princesses of the Blood Royal, and the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret, looking radiant and happy, and finally, to the person all those children had waited so long to see, our Queen, with her escort of Household Cavalry.

After the Queen passed on her way to the Abbey, we reformed and marched to new positions in Whitehall. Then the rain began – and did it rain! With a 20 mile an hour wind behind it the rain swept down Whitehall damping everything but the spirits of the waiting thousands. We, and they, stood in silence listening to the impressive ceremony being relayed from the Abbey. Raincoats were soaked through, hats were ruined, but no-one moved to seek shelter, which for some was no more than yards away. In this setting we ate our dinner, an operation which was executed with something of the clockwork precision that had been apparent throughout the proceedings.

The Abbey ceremony over, the marching columns of British and Colonial troops began to move. Swinging down Whitehall accompanied by massed bands, the colours of the many different uniforms blending together, they made, en masse, an unforgettable sight, one that made all the hours of preparation and standing in the rain more than worth while. How the crowds cheered. We took officers’ sword movements as our words of command as it was impossible to hear shouted orders above the noise.  The columns seemed endless, but all good things must come to an end, and the passing of the Golden Coach, bearing a radiant Queen and her proud consort, made a fitting finale to what, to us all, will be a day always in our memory.

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The cheering died away, and as the last horse and rider disappeared from view we reformed for our march back along the Victoria Embankment. What a different picture we presented now, in rain-soaked uniforms white with Blanco from our caps that had become mere shadows of their former selves, and with spotless white fronts now blue with dye! But for all that we were a proud and happy party because we had shared in what must surely be the greatest day in our generation, the day of the crowning of Elizabeth II.

The commemorative magazine then goes on to report on the Queen’s visits to Scotland and Northern Ireland, the Spithead review and reports on how the coronation was celebrated in Glasgow, Swindon, Bristol, Southern Rhodesia and Newcastle, where Wills had factories.

The report from Newcastle was written by a Mr DF McGuire, who I’ve identified as Donald F McGuire of 22 Glastonbury Avenue, Jesmond. Interestingly, my wife remembers Don McGuire, who was a senior member of the Personnel Department at Wills’ as he gave her several summer jobs at the factory. He is perhaps better remembered as the founder of the Friends of Jesmond Dene and is commemorated in a plaque by the visitor centre.

His account of the Newcastle celebrations follows:

In this brief account an attempt has been made to show how the Geordies demonstrated their loyalty to and affection for the Queen.

For a week and more before Coronation day, street and house decorations were being put up, transforming normally dull streets and houses with their unaccustomed colours. Great commendation must go to the Transport Authorities for their specially decorated buses, resplendent in gold and emblazoned with coats of arms, which caused great joy in the juvenile population.

The weather, alas, seemed determined to put an end to such frivolity, and Coronation Monday brought grey skies, cold winds and rain which increased in intensity during the day itself so that all outdoor parties and functions had to be hastily moved under cover. There is no evidence, however, that this in any way spoiled the enjoyment of those taking part. The large bonfire on the Town moor was coaxed into life before a large crowd, and the official firework display was not wasted.

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Smiths Crisps Coast Road

The Building that is now Crossling’s on the Coast Road, decked out for the coronation

On Saturday 6 June, the main event, the Lord Mayor’s show, was held in summery weather and was witnessed by a crowd estimated at half a million people. The Show took the form of a historical pageant illustrating the various aspects of English life in the four centuries separating the reigns of Elizabeth I and Elizabeth II. Some of the more outstanding exhibits were: – the Elswick Battery Field Gun of South African War fame, accompanied by veterans from that war – the enthusiastic rendering of Tyneside’s own anthem, the Blaydon Races, sung by appropriately costumed race-goers in the most ancient of vehicles – the soldiers of Marlborough and Wellington and the Dragoons, the well designed tableaux entered by local industrial concerns, and the mechanical exhibits of the Public Utility Services.

One must not, of course, fail to mention the Service contingents whose bearing and turnout, conspicuous in the marching Wrens, were up to the high standard now taken for granted. The whole procession was one that will long be remembered not only by the Young Elizabethans who witnessed it, but by some Older Georgians and Elderly Edwardians as well.

The Wills’ magazines provide a fascinating glimpse into the lives of the company’s staff. The earlier magazines will shortly have a new home with the Bristol and Bath Family History Society, where they will be a valuable resource to local history researchers, but the Coronation edition will be staying with me as a fascinating record of the event.

Can you help?

If you know have memories, anecdotes or photographs of the Wills Factory or of the  Coronation relevant to Heaton , we’d love to hear from you. You can contact us either through this website by clicking on the link immediately below the article title or by emailing chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

Acknowledgements

Researched and written by Michael Proctor of Heaton History Group.

 

 

 

10 Sefton Avenue: a time-line

It seems fitting that the first owner of 10 Sefton Avenue was the daughter and granddaughter of at least two generations of watchmakers who had lived in a place that, in the nineteenth century, was synonymous with monitoring the passage of time. For studying the history of buildings to help us understand those who have inhabited them fascinates the current owner of the house. Conversely the stories of those who have lived and worked in a building over time can breathe life into inanimate bricks and mortar.

The discovery in his loft of a large collection of objects and documents that had belonged to a previous owner aroused Jules Brown’s curiosity.

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10 Sefton Avenue, 2017 (undergoing a loft conversion)

What we came to call the ‘Sefton Hoard’, along with the deeds and other documents relating to the property were the starting point for our investigation. But we’ll begin before the house was built.

Little Broom

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Plan of Heaton which accompanies the deeds of 10 Sefton Avenue

In October 1894 Lord Armstrong had passed on his land in Heaton, including Heaton Town Farm, to his great nephew, William Armstrong Watson-Armstrong. In 1907, the plot which became 10 Sefton Avenue was sold by Watson-Armstrong to a local builder, Peter Grant Tulloh. By comparing the above plan accompanying the house deeds to modern maps, we have calculated this plot to have been part of Heaton Town Farm, somewhere in field 95, formerly pasture known as Little Broom.

Peter Tulloh had been born in Forres in Moray, Scotland in 1859 but had moved south as a young man, first to Bishopwearmouth and, by 1891, to 28 Falmouth Road in Heaton at which time he described himself as a ‘traveller’, which we think means what we later called a ‘commercial traveller‘ or ‘travelling salesman‘. Ten years later, he described himself as a ‘traveller’s manager’ and was living at 48 Heaton Road.

We don’t know when or how he became a builder and property developer but he was soon successful. By 1912, he was living at 330 Heaton Road, a house later demolished for the building of the Coast Road, ending his days at Eastwood on Jesmond Park East. He died on 13 April 1939, leaving almost £30,000 in his will. Peter is buried in Byker and Heaton Cemetery with his wife, Isabella and young daughter, Olivia.

The time traveller’s daughter

In January 1907, Peter Tulloh sold 10 Sefton Avenue to 32 year old Fanny Louise Baker. Fanny had been born in Newcastle in c1874 to parents who had moved from the midlands. Her father, William, had worked as a finisher in the watchmaking industry as did his father before him, at a time when the area around Spon Street, Coventry, where they lived, was one of the oldest and most important centres of the industry in the world. Old watchmakers’ houses still stand in this historic quarter of the city and the Coventry Watch Museum tells the fascinating story of the industry and the people employed in it.

But specialist skills were also in demand in the rapidly expanding cities of the north and so William and his wife, Frances, were assured of a bright future when, around 1867, they set off for Newcastle, three young children in tow. (Fanny herself was born some seven years later.) The family settled in Elswick, where William continued to work as a watchmaker. He eventually died in September 1905 leaving £635 6s 9d in his will, a sum that would secure his family’s future by enabling Fanny to buy the brand new house (10 Sefton Avenue cost her just £575 ) she was to share with her now 72 year old mother and her older sister, Elizabeth, a schoolteacher and the only wage earner in the family. By 1911, they had been joined by a boarder, Reuben Charles Salmon, whose rent would have been a welcome supplement to the household income.

The power of love

So, what brought Reuben to Newcastle? He had been born in Bethnal Green, Middlesex in 1881 and by the age of 20, still at home, he was an apprentice electrical engineer. Ten years later and now in Heaton, he described himself as ‘electrical engineer (electric supply)’.  For an ambitious young man in Reuben’s relatively new line of work, Newcastle, was the place to be.

As early as 1860 Sir Joseph Wilson Swan had developed a primitive electric light bulb. But it took him almost twenty more years to develop the incandescent electric light bulb, which would stand the test of time. He patented it in 1878 and a year later, Mosley Street in Newcastle became the first street in the world to be lit by electricity.

Cragside, the Northumberland home of Lord Armstrong, former owner of the land on which 10 Sefton Avenue was built, was famously the first house in the world to be lit by electricity. The picture gallery was illuminated by arc lamps by 1878. And in 1887, 45 of Swan’s light bulbs were installed to light the whole house, the power generated by hydraulics, Armstrong’s own speciality. But Armstrong was interested in physics more generally and he also worked with Professor Henry Stroud, who lived at 274 Heaton Road, on research into the nature of electricity.

But it was one thing generating the power to serve one wealthy person’s home, another to produce enough to cost-effectively service heavy industry. But once again this area was at the forefront of developments. In 1901 Neptune Bank Power Station was built at nearby Wallsend by the Newcastleu pon Tyne Electric Supply Company. Servicing shipyards and other local industry, it was the first in the world to provide electricity for purposes other than domestic and street lighting. It was also the first in the world to generate electricity using three-phase electrical power distribution at a voltage of 5,500 volts. In 1902, two 1,500-kW Parsons steam turbine driven turbo-alternators, developed and made in Heaton, were added. They were the largest three-phase steam turbine driven alternators in the world, as well as the first of a revolutionary barrel type, rotary design. But they weren’t enough.

In 1904 Carville Power Station was built, again using Parsons’ steam turbine alternators from Heaton. The first electricity produced by the station was provided to the NER for the very early electrification of the railway line that passed through Heaton. Carville was extended in 1907 and, in 1916, with demand for electricity soaring because of the war, a second power station, Carville B, was built. This was the largest power station in the UK at the time and was considered to be the ‘first major generating station in the world’, as well as the largest and most economical in the UK. The power supply industry may have been what brought Reuben north. It was certainly where he made his living. However, he found more than work in Newcastle: in 1913, Reuben Charles Salmon married Fanny Baker, his landlady. They lived on Sefton Avenue for eight more years, before moving to Bristol.

Self-made

In October 1921, the house changed hands for the first time. It was bought by Henry Lowery, aged 35, variously described as a ‘ship breaker’ and an ‘iron and steel merchant’, whose business was based in Gateshead.  Born in Newcastle on 16 June 1886, Henry had grown up locally – in Byker. Aged 4, he was living with his widowed mother, Mary Ann, described as a ‘hawker’, and three elder siblings. Aged 14, Henry was described as a painter. In 1911, he was married and still living in Byker but now working as a clerk in an iron and steel merchants.

His wife, like his mother, was called Mary Ann (nee Wilde). And they had daughter called? You guessed it: Mary Ann! Ten years later, now with his own business, he had done well enough for himself to buy a very nice house in Heaton, initially with the help of two sisters from Berwick, Isabella and Barbara Forbes Atchison, his relationship to whom we don’t yet know.

Henry repaid the sisters a year later and lived at 10 Sefton Avenue for 28 years before retiring to Gateshead. When he died, aged 73, he left over £17,000 in his will, very much a self-made man.

Wanderer

The next owner, George Arrowsmith Barnet, had been born on 8 April 1911 in Bishop Auckland. He married Moira H Ashley in Lambeth, London in 1935 and by 1939 the couple and their three children were living in Portsmouth, where George was a cafe manager. Soon afterwards, however, they returned to Bishop Auckland before, in 1949, buying 10 Sefton Avenue from Henry Lowery. George was now described as a ‘catering manager’. But the Barnet’s didn’t stay in Heaton long. Post-war austerity and rationing won’t have made his job easy and Canada was eager to attract new workers: George and his wife, like another half a million Britons in the thirty years following WW2, made the brave decision to emigrate. After giving Moira Power of Attorney so that she could manage his affairs, including the sale of 10 Sefton Avenue, on 13 May 1953 George sailed from Liverpool to Quebec on SS Franconia.  Four months later, Moira and their four children followed him. George Arrowsmith Barnet died aged 77 in White Rock, British Columbia, thirty six years after leaving Heaton.

Hoarder

The person who Moira Barnet sold the house to was Robert Edward Topping. He and his wife Greta (nee Gerner) moved the short distance from 10 Roxburgh Place to 10 Sefton Avenue in August 1953. And for the first time we have more than archival records to help us tell their story.

But first we need to jump ahead around sixty four years. Thinking of expanding his living accommodation, current owner Jules Brown, ventured up a ladder to survey the available roof space. To his amazement, as he arced his torch in the darkness, objects began to emerge from the shadows: some boxes but also individual items, large and small: once-treasured books, many of which were inscribed: some birthday gifts to a young Robert from his father and others presented to Greta for excellent attendance at Sunday School; photographs and personal letters; journals; home made tools, furniture and electric lamps; a canvas rucksack; toys and games, again some home-made; part of a lantern slide projector with slides and a couple of cine films; even a bike. Many of the items seemed insignificant, but clearly all had had meaning enough to become keepsakes for someone. All now black with the dust and soot of more than half a century.

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Jules Brown examining the contents of his loft

Luckily for us, Jules works for Historic England and North of England Civic Trust as a conservation manager. Naturally, he was intrigued by the finds and what they might tell him about his home and those who had lived there before him. He invited Heaton History Group to help sift through the items and decide what had a historic value and who might appreciate it. He wondered whether it was fanciful to think descendants of the hoard’s owners might be traced.

It soon became apparent that most of the objects in the loft had belonged to a Robert Topping and his wife, Greta. Some items were fit only for the tip. Time hadn’t treated them kindly. But there was a small pile relating to C A Parsons, journals, engineering text books, pencils, a slide rule. They were gladly accepted by Siemens’ Heaton Works historian, Ruth Baldasera. The North East Land Sea & Air Museum said they’d love the old BSA (Birmingham Small Arms) military bike.

Reunited

Another group of items related to Heaton Presbyterian Church – Robert and Greta’s religious conviction was clear: there were books about the church, tales from the New Testament, a prayer book but also sermons, hand-written in pencil. We remembered that the daughters of Olive Renwick, of whom we have written before, were parishioners. Would the church like the items and did they happen to know of a Robert Topping? Of course they did. Robert was only their uncle!

He was Olive’s brother and the son of Isabella and Frank Topping, the railway signalman who featured in another article we’ve published.

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Olive, Robert and Sybil Topping with their mother Isabella c1925

And so, over a cup of tea a few nights later, Robert’s nieces, Margaret and Julia, put flesh on the bones of what we’d already pieced together about ‘Uncle Rob and Auntie Greta’ and were reunited with photos, letters, cine films and other personal effects.

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Julia & Margaret, Robert Topping’s nieces with Arthur Andrews & Chris Jackson of HHG

Robert was born on 5 March 1922. He worked as an engineer at Parsons for many years but he’d also served in the Royal Navy during and after the second world war.  Jules’ next door neighbour, who had known Robert as an elderly man, believed he had been a submariner. Robert had told Margaret and Julia that too. But his nieces also recalled that he had a vivid imagination and told many fantastic stories, many of which they suspected to be made up to entertain and impress them.

Amongst the documents in the attic were letters that showed Robert had been at a naval base in Virginia in the USA, a postcard addressed to him as an Engine Room Artificer (a fitter, turner or boilermaker) on HMS Queen Elizabeth and a telegram addressed to him aboard HMS Hargood at Rosyth naval dockyard, suggesting he served on ships in the Royal Navy rather than submarines.

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Robert Topping in the Royal Navy

But there was also a ship’s diary, hand-written in Spanish, in which the author recounted watching the German Graf Zeppelin in the sky above Reykjavik in 1931, on its way to carry out research into the Arctic. Robert would have been nine years old.  ‘Perhaps some of those fantastic stories of a life of adventure were true!’, joked Margaret. Julia remembered with affection her uncle’s sense of humour: ‘He was the only one who could make Aunt Sybil laugh!’ As we looked at family photos around Jules’ kitchen table, we could feel his jovial, larger than life presence in the room.

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Robert Topping in later years

Some of Robert and Greta’s belongings have now been returned to the family and others donated to specialists who would appreciate them but Jules has kept a few items ‘for the house’. He will restore the home made bird box and put it in the garden. And five books by Ramsay Guthrie will be cleaned up and returned to the now converted loft.

Ramsay Guthrie was the alias of John George Bowran (1869-1946), a Primitive Methodist Minister from Gateshead, who wrote many novels set on Tyneside. They feature miners, ship builders and other working class characters and were concerned with morality and redemption. They were written around the time the house was built and, like the lives of the house’s former inhabitants, help to tell its story.

Post-script

Robert Edward Topping died in 2002, while still living at 10 Sefton Avenue. The house was then home to first the Kemptons and later the Kemps from whom Jules Brown bought it. Their life stories will add another layer to the fascinating history of 10 Sefton Avenue in due course.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Jules for sharing his finds with us and to Julia and Margaret for supplying photographs of their uncle and adding to what the ‘Sefton Hoard’ had told us about him.

Researched and written by Chris Jackson and Arthur Andrews.

Can you help?

If you can add to the story of 10 Sefton Avenue and those who have lived there – or you would like us to look into the history of YOUR house, either leave a reply on this website by clicking on the link immediately below the article title or email   chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

Swimming for Heaton

Who remembers Heaton Pool aka Chilli Road Baths?

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Heaton Pool, 1995 (Thank you to Newcastle Libraries)

It was situated on Biddlestone Road, where the doctors’ surgery is now. Heaton History Group member, Arthur Andrews, has fond memories of the pool and of Heaton Amateur Swimming Club (ASC), which was based there. Arthur takes up the story:

‘After learning to swim at a very cold open air pool at Hawkey’s Lane in North Shields, it was suggested by our swimming teacher, Mrs Richardson, that my brother Michael, sister Moira and I give competitive swimming a try. So every Thursday evening. we all began to catch the Number 11 yellow ‘custard’ bus to Heaton ASC at Chilli Road Baths.  Moira, although a competent swimmer, eventually decided that being competitive was not for her. But Michael and I stuck with it.

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Heaton Amateur Swimming Club membership cards

Bleached blondes

Dave Smith was our coach and taskmaster. His bark was worse than his bite, although it did not seem like it at the time. Training was hard work (as it should be!). No one had swimming goggles in those days so, after a long session, the chlorine really stung our eyes. On dark evenings the street lights seemed to have blurred haloes of light around them. Any contact with cigarette smoke on the bus made our eyes water. Those of us with fair hair ended up ‘bleached blondes’. The highlight of club night was tucking into fish and chips from Wallace’s on the corner of Benton Road and the Coast Road on the way home.

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The Andrews brothers and their trophies (‘mainly Mike’s!’), 1967

There were many swimming galas throughout Northumberland and Durham and not many people had cars to transport the swimmers. Dave Smith, our coach, ferried us round in a small, green Standard 8 and a handful of parents helped too.

Incidentally, the trophy that every club wanted to win was the Samuel Smith Perpetual Memorial Trophy, donated after the death in 1949 of Sam Smith Senior, founder of Ringtons in Heaton. The Smith family were staunch supporters of swimming locally: there was also a trophy in memory of his son Sam Smith Junior, who had tragically died in a plane crash and Malcolm Smith was Heaton ASC president.

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Samuel Smith Perpetual Memorial Trophy (Copyright: John Moreels, Ward Philipson Collection)

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National Championships

In 1966 and 1967, Michael and I, and a few others from Heaton, achieved the qualifying times to enter the National Swimming Championships at Derby Street (salt water baths) in Blackpool. This pool was 55 yards long, 30 yards longer than Heaton Baths. The length was daunting as was the competition! In my 110 yard freestyle heat I found myself on the starting block between English Champion, Bobby Lord, and international, A A Jarvis. Once the starting gun was fired I followed in their wake, finishing over six seconds behind them. It was all to get competition experience rather than have any chance of winning. Staying in a Blackpool B&B with four in a room was quite an experience as well.

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Arthur  with 100 yards Freestyle trophy, 1964 Arthur & Colin Feltoe competing in Germany, 1966

Chillier than Chilli Road

I once came in second in the Durham Long Course Championship, which was known as the Durham Mile. In 1967, Michael and I, along with several others from Heaton ASC, took part in this event on Elvet waterside along with approximately 90 other foolhardy souls. We changed in Durham City Baths across the road.There were no wetsuits, though the water temperature was a bracing 14 to16 degrees. We gingerly descended the steep, slippery riverbank and lined up in two rows across the river, our feet sinking into the squelchy, muddy riverbed. It seemed to take an age to for the starting pistol to be fired.

The course was up to the old bandstand and back with no goggles (we would not have been able to see anything any way!) Apart from the cold water and a mass of flailing arms and legs we had to contend with swimming through floating twigs, teasel and other debris hitting our bodies. Swimming too close to the riverbank meant scooping up handfuls of mud, which would slow you down as well as being unpleasant. The turn at the rope across the river near the bandstand was hazardous as the leading group just swam straight into the stragglers, so a black eye or other bruising was a distinct possibility. The hot shower and baths were most welcome after between thirty and sixty minutes in the Wear.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the event ceased in the early 1970s as the Wear was deemed too polluted.

Trophies

In the early 1970s a proposal was made to replace some of Heaton ASC’s older swimming club cups and plaques. Members and parents were asked if any would be willing to donate new trophies and good friends, Bill Allan of Plessey Terrace and Richard Jacobs of Jesmond and myself clubbed together to purchase a cup. We called it the Andrews, Allan and Jacobs Cup to be presented to the winner of the Senior Mens 200 yards Freestyle event. The first time it was competed for, although not at my peak, I entered the event to see if I could win my own trophy. I believe I was ahead for the first six lengths, but in the final two, I was overtaken by several fitter swimmers. I can’t remember who won the event or who presented the trophy. It may only have been swum for once.

Demise

Around this time it was proposed that a City of Newcastle Swimming Club should be set up to comprise the best swimmers from the other clubs in the city. The idea was that, rather than the local clubs only occasionally winning a national event, a centralised club would make a name for itself winning events and producing international swimmers. It would have a full time professional coach to improve standards. The new club was based at Northumberland Road Baths in town. So, in 1973, Heaton ASC ceased to exist. (But what happened to Heaton’s historic club trophies? I’d love to know.)

City of Newcastle Swimming Club’s first annual swimming gala took place on Saturday 15 December 1973. ‘Incorporating Heaton ASC’ is written in parentheses after the name of the new club. This suggests that the other city clubs had not yet relinquished their identities. Certainly Northumberland ASC, with its long tradition and history, continued for many years.

Chilli Road

There were many good times at Heaton ASC and Chilli Road Pool was always popular with competitive swimmers, as it was thought to be a fast pool. (Although the cockroaches in the changing rooms in the 60s seemed to spook a few!)

The pool itself had opened in April 1925, designed by prominent London architect, Alfred William Stephens Cross (1858-1932), who specialised in the design of public baths and wrote a book on the subject. Cross was vice president of RIBA (The Royal Institute of British Architects) and president of the Incorporated Association of Architects and Surveyors. Heaton Pool must have been one of his final designs.

It cost £42,000. Originally there were ‘slipper baths’ for individual bathing; they were practically covered and shaped like a – yes, you guessed! Remember, few people would have had a bath at home in those days. The communal swimming pool measured 75 feet by 35 feet and contained 65,000 gallons of water. Changing cubicles around the edge of the pool were removed in the 1960s.

The pool remained open to the end of the millennium. Generations of Heaton children learnt to swim there and many locals still remember the family sessions with inflatable toys.

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Heaton Pool, 1990

But in 2000, a ‘modern leisure facility’, East End Pool, was opened in Byker by Sir Bobby Robson, and that spelled the end for Chilli Road. Between 1990 and 2000, my sister Moira was a duty manager and adult swimming teacher there, continuing the family association until the very end.’

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Arthur, Brenda Falcus and Dave Smith in token effort to Save Our Swimming pool

Can you help?

If you know more about Heaton Pool or Heaton ASC or have memories or photographs to share, please either post a message direct to this website, by clicking on the link immediately below this article title, or email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

We are always pleased to receive information, memories and photos relevant to Heaton’s history.

 Acknowledgements

Written and researched by Arthur Andrews, with additional research by Chris Jackson.

Sources

Heaton: from farms to foundries / Alan Morgan; Tyne Bridge Publishing, 2012

Public baths and wash houses: a treatise on their planning, design, arrangement and fitting: having special regard to the acts arranging for their provision: with chapters on Turkish, Russian and other special baths, public laundries, engineering, heating, water supply etc / W S Cross; Batsford, 1906

Heaton at Play Part 1

In this his fourth piece, Eric Dale, who grew up in Eighth Avenue, Heaton from 1939 describes how Heaton children amused themselves in the 1940s and 50s:

Street games

‘Due to the complete absence of cars we were able to use the streets as playgrounds and there were always lots of of kids around to make up the numbers required for Tuggie, Tuggie-on-High, Hide and Seek and its variation (that we liked to think we’d invented): Kicky-the-tin. Then there was Mr Wolf, Football (and Headers), Cricket, Knocky-nine-doors, Hopscotch, Olympic Games, Mountakitty (known as Harra Levens only a few streets away), Chucks, Marbles and Tops and Whips. If we made too much noise, even during the day, we risked being shouted at. The sash window would slide up, a woman’s head would emerge and it would be ‘why divvent youz lot bugger off  t’the park, me man’s a’bed’ (on nightshift).

Once we graduated to riding bikes we used to organise races around the block without even considering there’d be any traffic hazards; such as buses on Second Avenue. It was certainly only down to good fortune that we escaped any such encounters. A popular hobby was collecting empty cigarette packets and it was quite a craze for a while, there being some quite exotic ones such as Du Maurier, Abdulla, Passing Clouds, Kensitas and State Express. The cardboard these were made from was also useful for jamming against our cycle spokes. To our ears this made a very authentic ‘motorcycle’ sound as the wheel turned so we would then take the machines to rough ground nearby to play speedway.

Our street also claimed to have invented ‘clay boilers’ but the idea was probably handed down. They were about the size and shape of a present-day pack of butter but were hollow and made from slabs of clay dug out from the sand-pit in the park or from the brickyard at the bottom of Rothbury Terrace. There were several variants but the one I remember had a lid covering the top from the back to about two-thirds of the box length. Through the back of the box a half-inch hole was made. The idea was to stuff the box with rags, set them alight then extinguish the flames so that only the glow remained. Then holding it in one hand at about head height the idea was to run so that plumes of dense smoke spilled out from the hole. Innocent fun from our point of view but how come we always had matches?

Speaking of matches the father of one of our number had a painting and decorating business so we were able to make up what we called fire-raiser from all the inflammable odds and ends such as turpentine, linseed oil and paraffin. Our favourite spot for experimenting with this highly volatile mixture was the ‘waste-land’ at the Coast Road/Chillingham Road corner. It was there on more than one occasion that having set the surrounding grassland on fire we almost lost control of the result, only just in time subduing the flames whilst choking on the billowing smoke drifting across the carriageway. Not at any point in the proceeding were we ever warned off by nearby residents or passers-by. And we were never troubled by police. Kids who indulged in that activity today would rightly be branded as arsonists and be up before a magistrate.

A rather more innocent (but rather strange) pastime was to buy lengths of multi-coloured electric cable, strip out the copper then cut the plastic outer into lengths of about half an inch, place one of these on an ordinary pin so that it stopped against the pinhead. The next move was to stick the pin through another pre-cut length of plastic, slide that up to meet the ‘handle’ and voila! you had a miniature sword. These were pinned onto jacket lapels for no other purpose than for decoration.

Hardly qualifying under the heading of ‘Games’ our curiosity about cigarette smoking got the better of a few of us during a short period at the end of the forties. It sounds horrendous now but we trawled around picking up discarded ciggy ends and when enough were collected extracted the usable tobacco and made smoking roll-ups with Rizla papers and a little machine. Thankfully this activity put me right off smoking for ever after.

Armed and Dangerous

We were so lucky as urban kids having access to open spaces just minutes away from our homes, all without even having to resort to the any of the modes of transport mentioned above. And didn’t we take full advantage of them all?

Heaton Park, Armstrong Park, Jesmond Vale, Paddy Freeman’s and Jesmond Dene were our natural habitat all year round. Anyone remember the sandpit at the old windmill? In my day this was a sizeable lake populated by thousands of frogs in the spring.

 

Old Windmill

Heaton Windmill, 1977 (Copyright:Eric Dale)

 

We virtually ran wild in those days and were always being chased by the Parky for some misdemeanour or another.

 

The Parky's House

‘The Parky’s House’, Armstrong Bridge, 1977 (Copyright: Eric Dale)

 

One summer the Parky Wars were stepped up a notch or two when much younger, fitter men wearing sand-shoes (the ultimate in speedy footwear) were employed to run down any miscreants. I am happy to report that we managed always to escape their clutches, though can’t exactly remember what it was we were doing that we ought not to have been. Might it have been hacking y-shaped branches from small trees and shrubs in order to make catapults? Most of us carried a knife of one sort or another; it being commonplace to see boys with a long-bladed edition strapped to their belt in a scabbard. We also went in for water-pistols, pea-shooters, bows and arrows and sometime even spears! We played war games in the more densely wooded areas (‘dadadadadada…got ye, Brian!’) in summer, with pretend guns made from sticks, and in winter it was snowball fights and sledging.’

(To be continued)

Acknowledgements

A big thank you to Eric Dale for his photos and memories. We’ll be featuring more in the near future.

Can you help?

We hope that you will add to what we know about how children played in the Avenues and Heaton generally. Either post your comments direct to this site by clicking on the link immediately below the article title or email chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org. It would be fantastic to find some more old photos.

 

The Magic Roundabout

All of us at Heaton History group love to hear from older Heatonians who want to share their knowledge with us.. We receive, usually fond, memories of local streets, schools, parks, churches and shops. But we can safely say that until very recently we hadn’t read a single nostalgic musing about a roundabout!

But George Hildrew, we are pleased to say, has put that right. He explains his life-long interest:

‘My family moved from Cornel Road to number 7 Coast Road in 1945/6. The house was above the wet fish shop, Percy Lilburn’s, situated on the corner between Coast Road and Benton Road. At the time there were three shops on that corner: Norman Storey, gents’ outfitter; Smythe’s the bakery, and Percy Lilburn’s wet fish shop. My mam, Betty Hildrew, was manageress of the shop until the late 60s, at which time it was owned by Taylor’s. Everyone knew, and loved my mam.

Living above the shop meant we children (myself and my three sisters, Ann, Penny, and Liz) spent a good deal of time at the windows looking at the cars, which in the early days were few and were all black. I seem to remember three changes to the roundabout in the years I lived in that house. Initially it was much smaller and across from us, on the corner  between Coast Road and Chillingham Road, were several benches with a grassy sloped area in front on which we used to play roly poly.

Hadrian’s Pillar

The second change was a much bigger roundabout, with the introduction of steel barriers. It was this one that had the obelisk in the middle. The obelisk was actually a sandstone section of an ancient pillar, most probably from one of the Roman temples on the A69. I seem to recall it being referred to as ‘Hadrian’s Pillar’, but I could be wrong. You can see it on both of the photographs below.

 

coastroadroundabout1955ed

Coast Road / Chillingham Road Roundabout, dated 1955

 

 

coastroadroundabout1965ed

Chillingham Road / Coast Road roundabout dated 1965 from Bygone High Heaton, published by Newcastle City Libraries.

 

The next change was the flyover system which is much the same today as when it was built. At this time the pillar was removed, never to be seen again, most likely buried on the site.

Dismantled

Going back to the second change which was mainly done to provide road access for the equipment that was being manufactured at C & A Parsons’ engineering works. They were producing turbines that were the best you could find worldwide and getting them out was a major problem. When we knew a big turbine was due to leave, we kids would sit in the window sills looking down on the roundabout, watching the fun.

Sometimes the loads were transported by huge Pickfords push and pull trucks and, as the loads were so long, they had to traverse the roundabout in such a way that they would have to manoeuvre the load over the roundabout. In order to do this, the lighting poles had to come down, and the pillar would also be lifted out and lain flat on the grass. All these were replaced immediately after the load had passed. The whole operation usually took the best part of a day and attracted a lot of attention. But then, as if by magic, you’d never know anything had happened.

Memories

The area was the main shopping centre for a large part of central Heaton, yet there is not much information on the internet. There’s plenty on the four individual streets, but sadly little about what was always referred to as ‘the Coast Road roundabout’. Between my sisters and I, we can name most the shops around it. It would be great to hear what readers remember.’ 

Can you help?

Please share your memories either by clicking on the link immediately below the title of this article or by emailing chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org. Which shops do you remember? And what about the houses that were demolished? Did you play roly-poly down the grassy bank? Or watch the huge turbines – and perhaps telescopes from Grubb Parsons – going past? Does anybody know more about the pillar?

Time for bed, said Zebedee.

 

The People’s Shakespeare

On 20 June 2016 (with perfect, even poetic, symmetry, the very day on which this year’s midsummer solstice will fall), actors from the People’s Theatre, Heaton, will take to the stage at Stratford upon Avon for the first time, alongside the Royal Shakespeare Company, in a performance of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. They will perform an encore the following night.

The troupe has already played the parts of the ‘mechanicals’ (Nick Bottom, the weaver; Peter Quince, the carpenter; Snug, the joiner; Francis Flute, the bellows-mender; Tom Snout, the tinker and Robin Starveling, the tailor), the comic characters who perform a play within the play, to critical acclaim at our own Northern Stage. But The People’s connection with Shakespeare goes back almost 100 years and, although the theatre company wasn’t based on this side of the city then, Heaton was nevertheless already centre stage (if you can forgive the pun) and has remained deeply connected to both the theatre group and the bard.

Veitches of Heaton

The People’s was founded in 1911 by members of the Newcastle branch of the British Socialist Party to raise money to fund their political activities and enable them to pay the rent on their meeting rooms at the corner of Leazes Park Road and Percy Street. (Today you’ll find Tea Sutra Teahouse in what was to become the new company’s first home).

The first meeting of around half a dozen interested members was dominated by one family: 32 year old telephone engineer, Norman Kidd Veitch, and his wife, Edith, who lived at 19 Stratford Grove Terrace, Heaton and, Norman’s younger brother, Colin Campbell Mackenzie Veitch and his wife, Minnie, who lived just around the corner at 1 Stratford Villas. Fittingly both couples lived in what we now call Heaton’s ‘Shakespeare Streets’, a group of roads with connections to Shakespeare, the story of which goes back to the 1864 celebrations of the 300th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth.

Colin was, of course, a professional footballer, still fondly remembered as Newcastle United’s most successful captain in the Edwardian era, during which the club won three Football League Championships and graced Wembley six times in seven years, at a time, of course, when FA Cup semi-finals weren’t played there, and the first League Cup was still fifty years away.

Colin Veitch

Colin Veitch

But there was much more to Colin Veitch than his football talent, immense though that was, as shown by his presence at that inaugural meeting of the Clarion Dramatic Society, as it was then called. Sometime between the initial meeting and the society’s first dramatic performance on 11 July 1911, Veitch captained Newcastle United, the holders, in the 1911 FA Cup Final (which they lost 1-0 to Bradford City after a replay at Old Trafford) but he was by now approaching 30 and in dispute with Newcastle United, and so although it was only the outbreak of WW1 which brought the final curtain down on his playing career, he was ready for new challenges.

Colin Veith's commemorative plaque

.

The Veitches, as well as being keen socialists – Colin was a founder member and later chairman of the Association Football Players Union (now the PFA) and turned down the invitation to stand as a Labour MP – were all lovers of the arts. Minnie was a star of Newcastle Amateur Operatic Society, where Colin, Norman and Edith were members of the chorus; Colin wrote music and conducted; Edith and Norman both wrote plays, a number of which were performed by the Clarion and later The People’s, so what started as an income generator for the British Socialist Party soon took on a life of its own.

From the beginning, the Clarion were ambitious. They performed the works of George Bernard Shaw, the eminent contemporary – and socialist – playwright.  They also performed Ibsen, Galsworthy, Chekhov and other great playwrights. As Norman Veitch said: ‘ If we are going to murder plays, let us murder the best’.

In 1920, the company invited George Bernard Shaw to see them perform. Shaw replied ‘I wouldn’t travel so far overnight in a railway train to meet Shakespeare himself’ but come he did on 25 April 1921 to see the company perform his play ‘Man and Superman’, with Colin Veitch playing the part of Old Malone.

The People’s Shakespeare

The next and final play of the landmark 1920-21 season was ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’,the Clarion’s first Shakespearean production. Colin Veitch was Falstaff, Minnie and Edith merry wives. Norman Veitch later wrote that ‘it was a jolly and inspiring performance’.

That summer, the Clarion was renamed The People’s Theatre and Shakespeare became a staple: ‘Antony and Cleopatra’, ‘The Comedy of Errors’, ‘Coriolanus’, ‘Cymbeline’, ‘Hamlet’, ‘Henry IV Part 1’, ‘Julius Caesar’, ‘King Lear’, ‘Love’s Labour’s Lost’, ‘Measure for Measure’, ‘The Merchant of Venice’,  ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, ‘Much Ado About Nothing’, ‘Othello’, ‘Pericles’, ‘Richard II’, ‘Romeo and Juliet’, ‘The Taming of the Shrew’, ‘The Tempest’, ‘Troilus and Cressida’,  ‘Twelfth Night’, ‘Two Gentlemen of Verona’ and T’he Winter’s Tale’, were all performed before the company moved to Heaton.

People’s in Heaton

The People’s Theatre was based in a disused chapel in Rye Hill from 1930 but by 1953 the company recognised it had outgrown the premises and they set their sights on their own arts centre. A public appeal was launched in 1955 at a luncheon attended by Sir John Gielgud and Peggy Ashcroft. Eventually by 1959 a suitable building was found and enough money was in the bank to start to convert it into a theatre.

Lyric cinema 1936

Entrance to the Peoples 2013

The soon to be refurbished People’s Theatre

 

The building was the recently closed Lyric Cinema, next to the Corner House on Stephenson Road (the Coast Road). It reopened as a theatre on 24 September 1962, with Shaw’s ‘Man and Superman’ (of course!) and the season appropriately ended with the People’s first Shakespeare performance in Heaton, a Christmas production of ‘Twelfth Night’. The official opening by Princess Alexandra followed on 20 October 1964.

The company continued to bring new Shakespeare plays to Heaton audiences eg Henry IV Part 2 (1965), Richard III (1967), Henry V (1981) but soon there was an even more exciting development, which cemented the east Newcastle relationship with Stratford which had begun with Frank Benson’s company in 1895.

RSC at the People’s

The RSC had made Newcastle its third home in 1977, bringing productions annually from Stratford to the Theatre Royal and the Gulbenkian, but in 1987 and 1988 they needed a third venue and so actors such as Jeremy Irons and Brian Cox trod the People’s boards.

The second season will always be remembered for a particularly gory production of ‘Titus Andronicus’, after which reports of fainting audience members even  made the pages of ‘The Sun’!

The RSC returned to Heaton in 2004 when the Newcastle Playhouse (now Northern Stage) was undergoing refurbishment. It’s an honour for both the People’s and Heaton for our own theatre company to be able to accept a return invitation to Stratford twelve years later in this most special of seasons for both theatres. There’ll be a few charabancs of Heatonians heading down to the midlands in June. It would be lovely to welcome members of the RSC back to our own soon to be even more fantastic theatre before too long.

Sources

The main sources used in researching this article were:

Chris Goulding ‘The Story of the People’s’

Norman Veitch ‘The Peoples’

http://www.ptag.org.uk/about-us/history.html

http://www.colinveitch.co.uk/

where you will be able to read much more about The People’s Theatre and Colin Veitch respectively

Can you help?

If you have memories of the People’s or any performances or readings of Shakespeare in Heaton or can provide further information about anything mentioned in this piece, please contact us, either by clicking on the link immediately below the title of this article or by emailing chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

Shakespeare 400

This article was written and researched by Chris Jackson, as part of Heaton History Group’s project to commemorate the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death.

We are interested in connections between Heaton and Shakespeare through its theatres, past and present; writers, actors – and of course, the famous brick Shakespeare on South View West. See:

A Road By Any Other Name

The Grand Opening

We are also researching and writing about some of the people who have lived in the ‘Shakespeare Streets’: initially, we are looking at Bolingbroke, Hotspur, Malcolm, Mowbray and Warwick Streets plus Heaton Park Road, Stratford Grove, Stratford Grove Terrace, Stratford Grove West, Stratford Road, and Stratford Villas. See:

Colin Veitch’s Twelve Days of Christmas

George Waller: world champion cyclist

George Waller: life as a champion

More to follow!

If you would like to join our small friendly research group or have information, photos or memories to share, please contact us, either by clicking on the link immediately below the title of this article or by emailing chris.jackson@heatonhistorygroup.org

An exile remembers: Part 2 – the old walk

Heaton History Group is often contacted by people who used to live in the neighbourhood and have vivid and usually fond recollections. We love to hear their memories.  ‘RS’  still returns to Heaton from time to time. Here is the second instalment of his thoughts, which will be serialised over the next few months.

So here I go, from the old house to Armstrong and Heaton parks, retracing the walk – and back again – that I made so many times in the ’60s, and an equivalent walk that many of you may have made yourselves, from the Heaton homes of your own childhoods.

Crossing Simonside Terrace diagonally, from the north side to the south, I soon reach the back lane cut-through which connects it with Rothbury Terrace.

Back lane between Simonside and Rothbury Terrace, November 2015

Back lane between Simonside and Rothbury Terrace, November 2015

(You know the one – straight across from the end of Coquet Terrace.) In fact, as I quickly recall, this particular journey was made on numerous occasions, independently of any visits to the parks, as just along here was the local corner shop, where much of my mid-’60s, one shilling a week pocket money had a tendency to end up, and where my father frequently sent me to buy his packs of (ten) Gold Leaf cigarettes.

(Note: for the benefit of younger readers, one shilling is the modern equivalent of five pence of that new money which was forced upon us 1971, but which nevertheless now seems to have caught on quite well.)

 The name of the corner shop was ‘Tulip’s’, as I hope a few others of you may also remember. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly a ‘corner’ shop, not being positioned on a street corner, but let’s not quibb … oh, it’s gone! Standing directly outside where it once was, I am faced with only the ghostly brick-based outline of its former existence; a seemingly Turin Shroud-like impression of small-scale retailing has been indelibly stamped into the wall, leaving – quite literally – only a trace of what once was.

And as I’m about to turn right into Rothbury Terrace, another memory returns. Back in the ’60s the two main Heaton primary school options were Chillingham Road and Ravenswood. There were also St. Teresa’s for the Catholics, which I can recall being built – and very futuristic it seemed at the time – and Cragside, but which was more for the children of High Heaton.

 Many years later someone told me that the back lane between Rothbury and Meldon Terraces – at least on this west side of Chillingham Road – was the dividing line for the catchment areas of Chillingham Road and Ravenswood primary schools. Put simply, if a child lived on Meldon Terrace and all streets south, then s/he went to Chillingham Road; however, living on Rothbury Terrace and all streets north, then s/he went to Ravenswood. Therefore, in my own case, living on Simonside Terrace meant I went to Ravenswood, even though Chillingham Road was actually nearer to my home.

 I’m rather glad that I did. Meaning absolutely no offence to any readers who may have gone to Chillingham Road primary school, and casting no aspersions on the quality of education which they received there, I always felt that Ravenswood was the better deal. Having opened in 1893, Chillingham Road was already an institutional pensioner when I started at Ravenswood in early 1961, whereas the latter – having opened in 1953 – was still in short trousers, and was still only going through institutional puberty when I left in 1966.

But there was more to it than age. Chillingham Road School seemed to me, in those days, to be a tall, dark, brooding presence, positioned almost menacingly right on … well, right on Chillingham Road, naturally enough … and displaying a stern, grassless, late Victorian asceticism. On the other hand, Ravenswood was lighter and more low-rise, exhibiting the modernity and optimism appropriate to the reign of a new, young queen, with its several acres of school field symbolic of the openness and boundless opportunities that might lie ahead for its pupils. (I can recall how we lost about ten yards from the bottom of the school field in 1965 or so, as a consequence of the Coast Road widening scheme – but we had so much it would have seemed churlish to complain.)

And so I turn right into Rothbury Terrace. Oh! And what’s this? There is still a shop here, after all. Occupying the same space as the former Tulip’s, it seems that the decision has been made to have the door and shop front here rather than around the corner on the side street, where it used to be when I knew it. Fair enough.  It’s no longer ‘Tulip’s’ of course. Now the owner’s name is Kohli.

Tulip's now Kohli's

Tulip’s now Kohli’s

So I now look towards Heaton Road. I’ll be soon be crossing it and entering Armstrong Park. But as I begin to walk in that direction, another set of memories comes flooding back. In the early to mid 1960s Heaton wasn’t a very diverse and vibrant place, in the ethnic sense. If one’s mother was daring enough to ever serve up a Vesta beef curry, then that tended to be about as diverse as life ever got. Until things began to change. In the mid-60’s. And right here. Yes here. On Rothbury Terrace.

 What do you remember?

We’d love to hear memories and see the photos of anyone who has lived, studied, worked or played in Heaton. Either leave your comments below the heading of this article or mail Chris Jackson, Secretary, Heaton History Group.