The Gubbins

There is some space-age gadgetry at the lineside these days, I thought, as I waited for the 10.00 to Nottingham this morning. My wife had abandoned me to my own devices again in favour of a girls' day out in London, so it was a trip on the trains for me, too.

I’d just about learnt what all the original bits were for and they’ve gone and changed it all. Grey boxes, rubbery egg-box carton “Don’t you dare walk here” pyramids, new cables wrapped up in plastic and miles of formidable spiky fencing. Railway scenery has certainly changed.

On our way now, and a very heavy-duty hedge cutter has been in action. The bushes put up no resistance at all. The trees stand scarred and wounded - there are amputations everywhere. It is hardly topiary. It has been said that I hack, rather than prune, in my efforts to keep the garden under control, but this is carnage. Those trees certainly won’t be making contact with any train windows any time soon. 

The uniformed revenue protection officer [it says so, on his back] wanted to see “all tickets, travel passes and railcards” and you could tell that he meant business. Then the man who was obviously training to be a flight attendant pleaded with us to “Keep the vegetable area clear of baggage.” I pricked up my ears and he said it again, but it sounded like “vestabull” this time, which I eventually took to mean vestibule.

I made it to my rendezvous with the West Coast Main Line, so infrequently visited these days, yet once such a regular haunt. The promising early morning sun had disappeared. It was freezing and then it started to rain. The PA and the VDU announced together that there were signalling problems at Rugeley and that trains in both directions were being “heavily disrupted” as a result.

That was enough. I went home. I took these photos of some of the more recently added gubbins at my local station. Last week, the Railway Gazette claimed that the 23^rd of February 2017 marked 10 years without a passenger or staff fatality in a train accident on Great Britain’s national rail network. If the cost of providing a safer railway is more grey boxes and giant egg-cartons, then it is all OK with me. 

Cock o' the north

A significant part of the collection is on display at the Frenchgate shopping centre in Doncaster town centre until 7^th March. The creation of a rail heritage centre for the town, to celebrate its inextricable link to its railway past and as a permanent showcase for this fabulous collection of memorabilia, would appear to be a prime example of an idea that’s time has come.

1967

Psychedelia and the permissive society were apparently under way but I think they rather passed me by. Free love certainly did. Flower Power must have got to me a bit because I felt inspired to raid my mum’s wardrobe and choose a bright red cardigan and some beads to go with my blue and white, hooped T-shirt and bronze jeans. After a couple of trips out in this garb, I just as speedily put them back where they had come from.

We went to a party in New Brighton where we knew for sure that someone had taken two purple pills. I didn’t drink and I never dared try drugs. I don’t remember ever being offered any illegal substances at all. I’ve always thought that it must have been the 70s when things really changed.  

I met my wife in 1967. She was on her way home from the outdoor swimming pool to do her paper round, and I asked if I could walk along with her. The rest, as they say, is history. However, history had to be intermittently interrupted from time to time by our serious quest to witness the decline of steam, first hand.

Birkenhead sheds had been collecting Standard Class 9Fs, with 27 present on 3/3/67. Carlisle Kingmoor and Upperby sheds emulated that by amassing 29 Britannia Class locomotives between them, more than half the class, on 23/3/67.  

Ian, Grah’ and I chose a West Country youth hostelling holiday during the last week in July, but once we had left Crewe behind, it was diesels all the way. Steam was, by now, well and truly hemmed in within the north west of England. It was nearly time for its final swansong.

Aller Junction, July 1967, photograph with thanks to Ian Hughes.

Standard Class 9F No. 92218 heads its load of John Summers’ iron-ore hoppers away from Bidston Moss on the way to Shotton, 2/8/67. Steam haulage ended on this traffic three months later.

Europe

We went to mainland Europe for the first time in 1966. Ian and I travelled by train to Paris. We stayed in youth hostels at Montreuil-sur-Mer [by then, no longer on the sea] and in tents at Suresnes, west of the capital. No sooner had we disembarked in Boulogne than we were ripped off, being charged 14/6 [72 ½ p today, but more than the pay for my weekly paper round, then] for sausage and chips. That was a large chunk out of our planned spending money for the coming days. So much for the Entente Cordiale. The fast-food man obviously didn’t feel he owed us Brits anything, 21 years after the end of WW2.

I soon took a liking to the country, though, and have been back there many times - to all corners, in fact - over the subsequent decades. There is so much of interest to enjoy in France’s unique and rich cultural history as well as in its varied scenery. Vive la difference! We have made French friends and we always look forward to going again. We have occasionally come across unwelcoming or haughty individuals, but we’ve witnessed Brits behaving badly over there, too. National superiority is a myth. In my experience, all countries have lots of decent people and relatively few that aren’t.

It saddens me that at a national level we have been such reluctant Europeans for most of my life time. Future well-being depends on greater understanding and co-operation between neighbouring nations, not less. We should be careful what we wish for. Sovereignty and nationalism can easily get mixed up. The lessons of history fade with time, it seems. Our fast-food man in Boulogne had clearly forgotten something, already.

Our double-headed train is setting out for Paris on 27/6/66. The train engine is 231K Class No. 231K37 and the pilot is a Class 141R.   

Chester General

Chester was a convenient destination for a day’s train spotting from our northern corner of the Wirral, getting there either by rail or on our bikes. Our favourite spot was on the stone steps leading down to the station approach from the Hoole Road railway bridge. We visited fairly regularly between 1961 and 1967 and witnessed the overall decline of steam from there, in microcosm.

From Castles, Halls, Granges and Counties to Coronations, Jubilees, Royal Scots and Britannias, we had initially been assured an invigorating GW/LM mix at Chester. Inevitably, with the process of dieselisation in full swing, the variety of classes gradually dwindled and the diet became more predictable and less exciting.

15/5/66 was the first time we had come away from a day at Chester without seeing even one former GWR engine. As a result, we went to Croes Newydd sheds at Wrexham on 27/5/66 to see if they had all gone from there, too. We found three panier tanks, 1600 Class No. 1660 and 5700 Class Nos. 9610 and 9669, but none were in steam and they had all had their smokebox and cab-side number plates removed.

On 21/8/66 and 26/8/66, we returned to Chester and Crewe, respectively, to photograph ex-LMS and Standard steam that was still working. Then, surprise, surprise, just before we left Chester on our way home on the 26th, one of Croes Newydd’s ex-GWR 1600 Class panier tanks, No. 1628, shot through in reverse on the middle road. It turned out to be the last time I saw a former GW engine in steam on BR, other than on a special train. I just managed to snatch a photo of her as she whizzed by. No. 1628 was withdrawn a month later [30/9/66] and Croes Newydd sheds closed just ten months after our final visit there [5/6/67].

Howay the lads

The north east was a closed book to me until 1966. I then went twice in two years with two different friends, in both cases staying for the February half-term weekend with their siblings, who were studying at Newcastle University.

Another similarity was that we saw quality live music both times, the Animals - no less - in 1966 and the Jeff Beck Group, with a young Rod Stewart guesting for a few numbers, in 1968.

On Central station in 1966, we noticed that a coach on an evening train had been reserved for Stoke City FC. The game had been won by the home team 3-1, so it would no doubt have been a miserable journey back to the Potteries for them. In 1968, we went one better and watched United beat Wolverhampton Wanderers, 2-0, at St James’s Park. Newcastle’s attack was spear-headed by the Welsh international, Wyn Davies.

In 1966 we were just in time to see some elderly ex-LNER freight engines still moving. To seek them out, we went around Gateshead, Heaton - and more productively - Tyne Dock, Sunderland, North Blyth, South Blyth and West Hartlepool sheds. Where would we have been without Aidan Fuller’s Shed Directory?

By 1968, we had only diesels for company. I have no numbers recorded in note form, as I had begun my one-man “train spotters’ non-compliance” action against British Railway’s decision to end steam completely later that year. My mum was no doubt relieved when I stopped short of a dirty protest.

My campaign fell on deaf ears, as you may have noticed.

Type Two No. D5097 is on a freight working at Newcastle Central station on 26/2/66.

Worsdell Class J27 No. 65855 pulling a brake van past South Blyth sheds on 26/2/66.

Gourmet Steam

Spam or no spam? Which do you prefer?

Bulleid Battle of Britain Pacifics No. 34076 41 Squadron and No. 34059 Sir Archibald Sinclair at Bournemouth Central station, both heading expresses to London Waterloo on 3/8/65. The air-smoothed casing on un-rebuilt No. 34076 contrasts with the rebuilt condition of No. 34059. This gave the name “spam cans” to the former members of the class.

You say it's your birthday

My blog is one year old this week. During this time, more than 5,000 visits have been made to the site, so thank you for checking it out. There are now over 100 different blogs to look at. I hope you have found something of interest in there from time to time.

I shall continue to provide some personal reminiscences and anecdotes, photos from the BR era - and of classic traction and preserved steam - as well as observations on our wonderful railway heritage.

Britannia Class No. 70019 Lightning leaves Crewe for the north on 25/6/65.

Dumbing Down

In August 1965, my sister and I stayed for a week with our uncle in Winchester. It was tagged on to the end of our fortnight’s family holiday in Somerset, after our parents had travelled back home. My uncle wanted to entertain us in the direction of a spot of cultural improvement. I just wanted to spend the whole week on Winchester City station [as it was then known to distinguish it from Chesil] - apart from a short trip to Eastleigh, obviously.

He did manage to persuade me to accompany him to Portchester Castle but I think I won on all the other days. Culture could wait, but the Bullied Pacifics couldn’t. They would all be gone within a couple of years, so I couldn’t hang around. That is, I mean, I needed to hang around quite a lot, actually.

Battle of Britain Pacific No. 34090 Sir Eustace Missenden at Winchester, Waterloo bound on 11/8/65.

A custard slice in Llanelli

It’s funny the things you remember. I know I bought a custard slice at a high street confectioners in Llanelli on 25/6/65. This was unremarkable, I know. Actually, I bought them more or less wherever I went when I was young, even graduating to mille-feuille, when we took regular family holidays to France in the 1990s, and by that time, I was quite grown-up.

The main purpose of our trip in June 1965 was to go around some South Wales sheds – Newport Ebbw Junction, Cardiff Canton, Cardiff East Dock and Llanelli, as well as Barry docks scrapyard. We stayed overnight at St Athan youth hostel. This is the stamp from Ian’s YHA card.

It was my second visit to Barry, so I didn’t cop that much. The two-day trip by train from Liverpool Lime Street was also notable because we saw Standard Class 9F No. 92220 Evening Star on East Dock sheds.  

This is my only surviving picture from the two-day break. It shows [just] Merchant Navy Class No. 35025 Brocklebank Line on a murky day at Barry. Llanelli sheds proved to be a bit disappointing with only 10 ex-GWR tanks and a Brush Type 4 to show for the extra miles west – apart from the custard slice. We might have been better off checking out other locations closer to Cardiff, but hey-ho! - win a few lose a few.

Colour Slides

In 1965 I bought my first colour slide film, which we also referred to as transparencies. Thereafter, we tended to abandon “black and white” and settle for 35 millimetres, 36 exposure Kodachrome or the occasional Agfa. This move eventually led to the purchase of a screen and projector and before long we were enjoying “slide evenings” at each other’s houses, taking turns to share the latest pictures from our regular youth hostelling holidays.

In the summer of the same year, I took my first slides of trains, including this picture of Western Diesel Class No. D1039 Western King at the head of a west of England express at Exeter St David’s station, on 31/7/65.

It seems ungrateful now, but at the time I probably did rue the fact that it was not another type of “King” - one I was a few years too late to see in this iconic, much photographed [and painted], railway location.

However, I grew to appreciate the Westerns and saw them all over the next few years. My last one was D1028 Western Hussar which eventually turned up at Newton Abbot station with an express bound for London Paddington during another holiday in the west country.

Bilsthorpe Heritage Museum

The pit at Bilsthorpe in Nottinghamshire had a relatively short life. It was opened in the late 1920s and the farming hamlet of 200 people was transformed into a lively pit village. It was closed in 1997, no doubt, with all the distressing effects for its inhabitants that typified that ignominious time, politically.

The railways in this area were largely built to serve the needs of the coal industry. Bilsthorpe colliery lay between two pre-existing east-west routes. The former Lancashire, Derbyshire and East Coast Railway had become part of the London North Eastern Railway by the time the pit was sunk. To the south was the ex-Midland Railway from Mansfield to Southwell, which was by then part of the London, Midland and Scottish Railway.

The route west from Bilsthorpe colliery to Mansfield Concentration Sidings was opened to help with the sinking of the pit itself in 1925 and it operated until 1997. The seven-mile stretch of the Mid-Notts Joint Line [LNER/LMS], built in 1931 to connect Ollerton to Farnsfield, closed between Bilsthorpe and Farnsfield in 1962.

Since the demise of the pits, all the tracks south of Ollerton have been removed. Between Bilsthorpe and Southwell, the Southwell Trail is a well-used local amenity, as is the more recent section west from Bilsthorpe - the Bilsthorpe Leisure Trail - which threads through the southern edge of Clipstone Forest.   

To maintain the links with the past and preserve artefacts and memorabilia that had survived from the coal mining era, Bilsthorpe Heritage Museum opened in 2014, supported by a network of enthusiastic local volunteers. Though the museum highlights the importance of coal mining, it certainly does not ignore the area’s farming history or the impact of two world wars.

I have never received a warmer welcome in any museum or heritage centre anywhere. Offered cups of tea before we had fully crossed the threshold, we enjoyed a fascinating hour or two in the company of our personal tour guide - a former mine worker, of course, who knew the business inside out and related his stories as though it was yesterday. The museum relies on donations from visitors to keep going, as entry to the museum is free. Opening times are shown on their website at www.bilsthorpemuseum.co.uk

It is a shining example of a community project that is rightly proud of its past. It also shows what is possible when a group of local residents are determined to ensure that the contribution that they made to our industrial well-being reaches as wide an audience as possible. I fully recommend a visit.  

Warrington

Quite possibly the first purposeful train spotting trip that I ever went on as part of a group was in October 1960, when I was eleven years old. During my first half-term holiday at big school, the railway society organised a day on Warrington Bank Quay station. We travelled to Warrington Central from Liverpool Central High Level. Passing Brunswick shed, we saw ex-LNER Class J39 No. 64745, the only locomotive to put in an appearance on the day that was not BR Standard or ex-LMS. 

I clearly remember walking along the approach road to Bank Quay High Level and seeing Coronation Pacific No. 46223 Princess Alice in green livery waiting for departure to the north at the down platform.

The other namers spotted were: 45583 Assam, 46247 City of Liverpool, 46226 Duchess of Norfolk, 45723 Fearless, 45668 Madden, 46161 King’s Own, 45551 [un-named, un-rebuilt Patriot and therefore almost as good as a namer], 46160 Queen Victoria’s Rifleman, 46168 The Girl Guide, 46200 The Princess Royal, 45524 Blackpool, 46239 City of Chester, D3 Skiddaw [which I had climbed with my mum and dad three months earlier], 45740 Munster, 45624 St. Helena, 45591 Udaipur, 46169 The Boy Scout, 45676 Codrington.

Who would have thought that there was so much fun to be had in the shadow of an enormous soap factory?

[Royal Scot Class No. 46120 Royal Inniskilling Fusilier, possibly at Chester, two years after our Warrington visit.

[I am indebted to Edward Godfrey, also formerly of Wallasey Grammar School Railway Society, for the list of locomotives recorded on the day.]

A Somerset Delight

Continuing a theme, my parents opted for Somerset again for our family holiday in 1965, though perilously close to the border of Dorset this time. We stayed at Axe Farm near Clapton, a few miles west of Crewkerne. At Clapton, the signal box controlled a level crossing where a minor road met the ex-LSWR main line from London Waterloo to Exeter Central. I was too late for steam on the south Devon expresses, where Warship diesels were firmly in charge. The formerly double-track main line has long been singled on this section.

Warship No. D817 Foxhound is bound for London Waterloo at Clapton crossing on 25/7/65.

I had heard that the evening Cardiff to Brighton service was possibly still steam hauled, so later the same day I went back with my fingers crossed. When I arrived, I asked the signalman if this was likely and he kindly rang a colleague down the line, confirming that it was indeed behind steam on this occasion.

By this time the light on a pleasantly mild but cloudy summer’s evening was fading. Then I heard the bells from the cabin as the train entered the section, followed soon after by that magical sound that still gives me a tingle, the rhythmic beat of an approaching steam locomotive.

The headlamps of West Country Pacific No. 34005 Barnstaple arrived through the gloom and just in time for me to record the train’s passing on film. It is a stand-out moment, one of many that I am able to call on, I’m pleased to say.

"There's been a wickit in the crickit"

Usually, we went by train to find more trains. Sometimes, we went by train to do something else – like watch cricket. On 5/6/65, Ian and I went to Old Trafford for the first day of the Roses match.

We travelled from Liverpool Lime Street to Manchester Exchange and from there by bus to the ground. We were there in good time. Geoff Boycott had just finished a net practice and was leaning on his bat and chatting to Don Wilson, the slow left arm spinner, and also to a third bloke who was in civvies.

We just sidled up to them and stood there. Their conversation was so intense that none of them batted an eyelid. We stood within earshot for ages, overlooked [in my case, anyway, as Ian was taller than me] and completely ignored. It was great. I was standing next to a hero.

Lancashire batted first but Fred Trueman soon had them on the back foot, taking 3 wickets in the innings. By the end of the day, we had seen another legend, Brian Statham, in action and we had watched Geoffrey as he started to compile his own respectable total of 53.

Back at Elleray Park, we used to take brief interludes from football to take part in the summer game. Trees of suitable girth were chosen as make-do stumps, though bare, dry patches developed in front of them where so many previous batsmen had made their marks and the depressions, so formed, became deeper and deeper.

Luckily, we didn’t need trees because a promising and rather stylish young opening batsman lived in our road and he had his own stumps - three of them, in fact, held together at the base by a block of wood. Only an occasional footballer, he was always up for a game of cricket - at least until an all too predictable disagreement arose [probably over a contentious LBW decision], at which point he would sweep his lengthy fringe off his forehead, sweep his stumps under his arm and make for the pavilion [his house]. That meant it was game over and - quite possibly - straight back to the footy.

We saw no namers on our trip to Manchester but Peaks and Black Fives were well represented - 42455, D2852, D3793, 44753, 45332, 12075, 45352, 48273, 44888, 45404, 42230, 48155, D5214, 45269, 42051, D156, D94, 42159, 42053, D56, D114, D5189, 42112, D5277, 42030, 42960, D4147.

Stanier Class 5 2-6-0 No. 42960 was in Liverpoool Lime Street on our return from the cricket. Sister engine No. 42964 was spotted on Birkenhead sheds in the same year.

On Parallel Lines

Four track main lines always have an added attraction. Not only do they signify an important and busy route but they offer the possibility of watching trains at speed running alongside your own. I’m sure it must have happened a lot in my early train spotting days, for example when passing freight trains around Rock Ferry on the line from Birkenhead to Chester, or where the ex-GWR and ex-LMS main lines ran alongside each other for the first few miles west out of Chester.

The two stand-out moments for me, however, were further from home. After Church Fenton on our way to York, our train from Liverpool ran alongside A3 Class Pacific No. 60036 Colombo, running light engine. That was a stunning sight as we inched past her, providing great views of the motion of a thoroughbred, just stretching her muscles lightly on her way back to base.

On the last day of our family holiday in 1964, we left Bristol Temple Meads at the same time as another summer Saturday departure for the north, which was headed by Standard Class 9F 2-10-0 No.92000. The photo I took of her backing onto the stock in the adjacent platform is my only surviving example from the two weeks spent away from home. If I had to choose between money to get somewhere or money to spend on films and developing them, then photography often had to come second.

92000 was suffering from a serious attack of lime scale, it seems. Nevertheless, she offered us fine sights and sounds as both trains threaded their way through the Bristol suburbs, before our Warship diesel-hauled express gradually accelerated away from her.  

The Muck Hole

The Muck Hole was the avoiding line for freight at Crewe which burrowed beneath the main line junction north of the station. It was legendary amongst spotters and the cry would go up, “Muck Hole,” whenever smoke suddenly appeared from southbound traffic as it left the tunnel. Seen from the platforms, the tops of northbound trains had no sooner arrived into view before they, too, dropped down into the abyss. Muck Hole was a very suitable name for it. Smoke continued to drift out of the tunnel portals for some minutes after a train had gone through.

This is the only photograph I ever took of a train near the entrance to the Muck Hole. It’s of poor quality but it actually sums up the location quite appropriately. It just about shows an unidentified Stanier 8F 2-8-0 on a wretched day, weather-wise.

For spotters, a decent view could only be gained by trespassing at the bottom of the footbridge provided for railwaymen accessing Crewe North sheds. It was supposedly out of bounds to us. However, we generally stayed put on the station platforms, so Muck Hole-bound locomotives frequently passed us by without divulging their identities.

Consequently, and because there was usually something more interesting happening on the station itself, the Muck Hole was more or less ignored a lot of the time. That was, apart from the cursory – indeed, almost obligatory – shout of “Muck Hole,” that periodically went up to acknowledge another number that we had just missed noting. Occasionally, spotters who happened to be by the footbridge would relay the identity of the latest Muck Hole candidate to those assembled on the platforms.

The good news is that it’s still there and in use today – it’s just not quite so mucky as it used to be.

Station to Station

A list of wonderful, but long departed, terminus stations that I have visited comes to mind - Liverpool Central High Level, Liverpool Exchange, Bath Green Park, Birkenhead Woodside, Leeds Central and Manchester Central amongst them.

There is a sadness associated with the loss of railway edifices like these. Each one had its own atmosphere. I wish I had savoured them more and sat for longer to take in their sights, sounds and smells. I was too fidgety to sit anywhere for long. It would have been more of a quick prowl around and then off to the next venue.

Liverpool Central HL was where I was offered one of my rare cab rides – in an ex-LMS tank up the tunnel to Brunswick and back. My most striking memories of Liverpool Exchange are of Patriot Class No. 45512 Bunsen at the buffer stops and Clan Class No. 72000 Clan Buchanan at the other end of the station, at the head of an express to Glasgow Central in the summer of 1960.

I only ever spent about an hour in total at Leeds Central station. It was not enough. I don’t even know for sure exactly when I was there, as my notes do not give it away conclusively. Possibly, it was a day loosely described as Leeds and York in my notes and dated 7/3/64.

What I do know is that by the time I got there the Deltics had beaten me to it. I liked Deltics. Their impressive overall size and their high-set front windows and enormous snub noses gave them a certain authority, emphasised by a noisy, dirty, near-vertical exhaust when preparing for take-off. They certainly boomed out their presence under an overall roof.

D9008 at York, 6/6/63.

I returned to Bath Green Park more recently and enjoyed a lager in the bistro which occupies the main part of the old station building. I told the girl serving at the bar that I had last been there forty-six years previously and she feigned polite interest. My wife and daughter motioned me outside to the tables spread out on the concourse before I bored her any longer, and so I shared my reminiscences with them instead. They were rather drowned out, however, by the continuous clatter from the resident skate boarders. It is gratifying to find that at least some of these old cathedrals of steam have been saved and allocated new uses, Green Park serving as a regular market site in the daytime. The Manchester Central Convention Complex also survives, of course, opposite the excellent Midland Hotel, where Rolls first met Royce.

Castles to Chester on the Birkenhead Paddington

Fifty-three years ago this month [24/2/64], we were on our way to Crewe for a day’s train spotting. We noted Castle Class No. 5037 Monmouth Castle at Chester on the way out and No. 5055 Earl of Eldon on our return. We had no idea at the time, but this was the last time we saw members of the class in the city with normal service rosters on the Paddington expresses.

They were replaced by the new Western diesels, but the through service itself only lasted until March 1967. Ian Allan organised two special trains over the route to mark the occasion, hauled by No. 4079 Pendennis Castle and No.7029 Clun Castle. Birkenhead Woodside closed to passengers in November 1967 and was demolished within two years.

Luckily, I have a copy of the excellent “Paddington to the Mersey,” by Dr R. Preston Hendry and R. Powell Hendry, to remind me of our local link with the Western Region of British Railways, as well as the 11-foot long, chocolate and cream, carriage board – Paddington Birmingham Shrewsbury Chester Birkenhead – just above my head and hopefully firmly affixed, as I write this.

D1005 Western Venturer leaves Chester for London Paddington on 28/9/62.

Castle Class No. 7029 Clun Castle, sporting “The Zulu” headboard on Chester sheds on 4/3/67. [No. 4079 carried “The Birkenhead Flyer” headboard].

New Brighton Tower Ballroom

Desmond Barnes painted this image that was used by British Railways in the 1950s to attract visitors to New Brighton by train. I won this particular example at GW Railwayana Auctions a few years ago, and it now adorns the wall in our lounge. Unusually, it was stuck down onto board by a previous owner and so I had it professionally framed, board and all. The view is up river towards Liverpool Pier Head and Seacombe Ferry. New Brighton Tower is visible behind the greenery to the right. 

My grandfather took this picture of New Brighton Pier in 1931. It shows the Tower building in the background. The tower itself, which was higher than Blackpool’s, was removed just after the First World War.

In the early to mid-60s, my friend Ian Hughes and I went down to New Brighton Tower, usually on a Friday night, and waited outside the stage door to ask performers for their autographs on their way in. It was an important venue for up and coming groups, particularly those associated with the “Mersey Scene.” The Beatles had played the venue 27 times by 1963, but we were just a bit late to see them there.

We were usually the only youngsters around. We met The Searchers, The Big Three, Billy J. Kramer and The Dakotas, The Four Most, The Pretty Things, Wayne Fontana and The Mindbenders and The Merseybeats, amongst others. Ian was brave enough to go into the neighbouring bar on the Tower grounds site, to ask Keith Relf of the Yardbirds for his signature. Ian has reminded me that he ended up giving Keith 3d change as he was short of cash for a drink. I think that Jeff Beck must have been there, too, as he had taken over as guitarist from Eric Clapton earlier in 1965. We also missed a few, either because we were too late getting there, or perhaps because they had entered by another route, including Jet [Harris] and Tony [Meehan] and the Rolling Stones, who we reckoned we could see from outside later in the evening, lounging against a window in a room on an upper floor.

Billy J. Kramer was particularly friendly, greeting us with a cheery “Hello, lads,” the second time we saw him. When we just missed Freddy and the Dreamers’ arrival at the stage door, Freddy’s girlfriend took our autograph books in with her and sent them back to us through the post, with the all the band signed up. How nice was that?

The only time we ventured inside ourselves was for the Radio Caroline Club Ball, an extravaganza called Zowie 1 that took place on 8 December 1965. This was attended by Tony Blackburn and Ugli Ray Terret, who were well-known Caroline DJs at the time. On the bill were the Yardbirds, the Four Pennies, Brian Poole and the Tremeloes, The Honeycombs, Twinkle, Paul and Barrie Ryan, Garry Farr and the T Bones, Mark Leeman Five, Billie Davis, Ronnie Jones and the Blue Jays, the VIPS and the Vagabonds. The Tower building was gutted by fire in August 1969 and subsequently pulled down.