1)   The Looe Island Whale (Edwina Arkel, interviewed by Peter King)

I suppose it was 50 or 60 years ago that a fairly large whale was washed ashore on the east side of Looe Island.   At this time a Mr Topham owned the Island.  He employed one Edgar Toms to run the little motor boat and his wife as cook come housekeeper, both living there then.

Nothing was done about this wale for a week or 10 days, and then when the wind went to the SW the people of Hannafore and East Looe sea front could smell it pretty badly.

The Duchy whose responsibility it was to move it sent the Duchy steward here and he arranged with Edgar Toms to pay him £20 or £25 to remove it.  Edgar rounded up 3 or 4 of his pals who all thought they were on to a good thing, and that this called for a celebration drink.

Next day away to the gas works to buy 20 or 30 gallons of tar, then to a garage for the same amount of paraffin to burn the whale.

Next day load up the island boat and off they went.  Poured most of the fuel over the whale and set it alight, adding more fuel as needed.  When the fuel had died down and the fire was out the whale was found to be hardly singed, yet alone burnt.  Anyway, more fuel was got the next day and with the same result.  Then someone said how about cutting it up in pieces.  So next day out went saws and large knives but not much progress was made.  Edgar at one time was standing on the whale when they opened it up and he being a bad cripple slipped and fell right into the whale’s belly, and he didn’t come out smelling of violets either.  The late Mr. Bert Middleton wrote a delightful comic story about all this and if published would have been a best seller.  I believe there is a tape of it in one or two places today.

However, what to do now, with the money nearly run out and the whale stinking Looe out at times.  Then someone suggested dynamite for him.  So I believe they enlisted the help of Mr Harry Warne but they didn’t have much success.  To get rid of it, the help of the Royal Navy at Plymouth was sought.  They sent down a squad who with plenty of dynamite succeeded in blowing it up and ridding Looe of the smell.

This is just how I remember it happened with the help of one or two friends, who told me a thing or two that I had forgotten.

I have since found out that the year was 1929 and I have found a newspaper photo, which states that the whale was 50 ft. long and estimated girth was 36ft.

Edwina Arkel

(Typed up by Peter King 9th April 05)

2)  Jeanne Dingle interviewing Ray Petipher, the last Stationmaster at Looe

Ray was employed as a clerk at Bude station when the job at Looe was advertised, had the qualifications and had always dreamed of working in Looe, so applied, had an interview with the Chief Superintendent and eventually was offered the job.  Ray drove to Looe in his old Austin 7 – he’d been Chief Clerk so thought he knew all about being in charge as, at Bude, when the Stationmaster had a day off Ray took his place. This was in 1958.  On his first day Ray was  extremely nervous as he hadn’t been to Looe before and knew no-one - he introduced himself to the staff who were on duty.  About 9 in number – 1 railway clerk (2 in the summer), 2 signalmen, 2 porters, a checker and a lorry driver.  It turned out that all the staff were old enough to be Ray’s father – made him feel apprehensive.  Was a member of Toc H in Bude and as there was a branch in Looe, this connection led to accommodation being arranged by the Branch Secretary Arthur Varkell.  Ray had to telephone Bude station to let wife know his address.

 The railway used to go onto the quay in those days, there was a gateway across the road which would be closed to allow the train access.  Boats would off load cargo eg granite onto the train.  As the summer came lots of visitors travelled to Looe on the train – luggage would be transported in advance (PLA = Passengers Luggage in Advance) 2/4d a package – collected by lorry from home and delivered to their holiday address.  Most people travelled by the train – very few cars.  Luggagge would arrive 1 or 2 days before the passengers, be stored in the station and Jack the lorry driver would deliver to their holiday address on the day of their arrival – there was a similar arrangement for the return journey.  From the Whitsun holiday throughout the summer, there would be a rush of people coming down on Saturdays to spend, probably, a week in Looe and on Sundays, when the weather was fine and sunny Plymouth people would come for a day trip –  a couple of extra coaches would be put onto the train to carry the increased numbers.  Cheap Day tickets were 2/3d return from Plymouth.  Tried to keep everyone happy, and a man got Ray’s permission to put up a little stall cum snack bar selling cups of tea etc – this caused quite a fuss from the cafes etc on the beach as they thought they were losing trade, but passengers were glad of a cup of  tea. Ray realized what profit there was in ladies toilets!  There were two ladies toilets there, 1d a visit(!) and each would hold a couple of £’s worth of coins – on a day when lots of people came they would fill up and Ray had to empty them – sometimes making about £8 a day from each toilet.  Never realized that ladies were not really nervous about explaining that they needed to go to the toilet because these 2 toilets faced each other, Ray would have to go in to empty the money and ladies would push by with the door open to go to the toilet, they couldn’t wait.  The Superintendent at Plymouth wanted to make the Station more attractive, it had to be painted every few years, brown and yellow the GW colours, but Ray was allowed to paint the internal part any colour he liked.  Sought his wife’s advice on colour for the Ladies Waiting Room – painted it all colours – a great improvement.   Trains which went onto the quay went past the fish market on the edge of the quay, there were loops and sidings.   The service to the quay ceased soon after Ray became Stationmaster, probably in the early sixties.   

In the first week of Ray’s appointment he received notice of a Harbour Commissioners’ meeting and was invited to attend.  The meeting was Saturday night so, at 6 o’clock he turned up.  A group of men sitting there (Harbour Master was Geoff Sargent),  looked up in amazement, first time a Stationmaster had attended such a meeting.  Wondered whether he had done the right thing – it was explained that he was entitled to be there as an ex-officio member – an Act of Parliament would have had to be passed to stop his attendance as the Railway Company had rights over the quay.  Others had to be elected but the Stationmaster was there as of right.  Ray continued to attend the monthly meetings and gradually understood more and more, and got to know the fishermen and the others, also, being a stranger in the place, he found it very interesting.  An election was held shortly after Ray arrived, Commissioners had to be elected just like Councillers – there was a lot of animosity between the Council, East Looe Town Trust and the Harbour Commissioners,  trying to gain control of the car park, vital and an important part of the town.  The Harbour Commissioners administered it, there was a coal  merchant, Eddie Walke, who was a councillor – there was a public phone box at the station, one of the old wooden ones,  just outside the booking office and if people spoke loudly enough the conversation could be heard in the booking office.  So the election and the Council tried very hard to get more of their members on than the fishermen because they wanted to administer things.  Heard Eddie Walke, who had been elected, speaking on the phone the morning after the election saying “We got the buggers, because there’s 6 councillors and 6 fishermen elected.”  We’ve also got the Stationmaster !”  Ray thought “Oh no you haven’t”  Unbiased but holding more power than any of them because he didn’t have to be elected., he had the deciding vote and could vote one way one week and another way the following meeting.

The procedure was, after unloading the passengers, the train would pull down into the yard and there was a loop there and the train would disconnect go up the loop and connect on the other end, then pull into the station under the brick-built tower with a tank of water on the top.  Up Shutta Road there was a reservoir, owned by the railway, so there was free water to supply the tank.  Apparently, the railway were going to build a station on the Barbican and bought land up to Menheniot  station and the golf club was built by the railway, it was their land, were going to build a hotel.  The war stopped it.   Looe was a happy little station – old chap called Dick Wicket, a retired butcher who lived in the back streets, always came in for a chat and a cup of tea, always warm and friendly in a station and people would call in.  LOOE was lined out in 10 foot high letters made from  granite blocks, laid flat in a lawn.  Some old lady used to send tulip bulbs every year to plant around the name – never knew who she was, but it looked lovely.

When diesel trains came it changed everything.  On the steam trains there was a driver and a fireman, they would pull in for about 20 minutes, call in for a cup of tea and a yarn and we got to know all that was happening up the line.  On a diesel you hardly saw the  driver,  he’d walk from one end to the other and was gone.  He’d  lost his mate of course – he was on his own – the whole atmosphere of the railway changed, there was a certain fascination with steam.  I used to drive the engine, the driver showed me how, and while he was having his cup of tea I’d run it up and down the yard – I wasn’t supposed to.  Fares:  to Plymouth day return 4/6d,  2/3d from Liskeard.  Half day returns were cheaper still but you had to travel between certain times.  At 14 years old I started work in the booking office – you might have been good at maths at school but this was completely different -  I’d never used a telephone in my life, there were phones ringing, bells ringing, trains going by and then a lady would come in “2 and 3 halfs return to Plymouth, please” (This puts Ray’s place of work as ?Looe – yet he first visited Looe when he became Stationmaster)  the fares were 2/11d, the others were 1/5 ½ d, I’d be trying to work this out in my head, find the tickets in the rack,, she’d be asking “What time does the train leave?” “What time’s the train back?” “What platform is it?” I’d just left school where I’d quietly worked at sums in the classroom  -  a different situation altogether.  This was in 1942. 

There used to be day returns to and from Plymouth where passengers could travel one way by train and the other way on one of the steamers which worked as tenders for the liners which used to come into Plymouth.  The ferrymen used to run passengers out to the steamers. 

Ray was Stationmaster about 8 years.  Was made redundant – after Beeching.  Beeching was an accountant not a business man, and didn’t realize, when all the branch lines were being axed, that although they had always been run at a loss  they serviced the mainlines by taking passengers to fill up the main line trains. 

3)  Sam Soady

Mr Sam Soady’s memories of Old Looe, recorded at his home on West Looe Hill on Monday 27^th March 2006 by Mrs Jean Dingle

Sam was born in Looe in 1909, the 8^th of 11 children, and was 96 at the time of this interview. He was a stone mason and saw service in the Army during the second world war taking part in the Normandy landings. He currently lives alone in a bungalow on West Looe Hill which he built for himself, with the help of his son and grand son, when he was 82

 

Where were you born? “I was born in Lower Chapel Street, just a little way in from the Church in East Looe. We were 11 children. My mother never knew anything else but work. When she weren’t doing other things she be knitting. She never wasted a minute. We were 5 boys and 6 girls.”

What was Dad then, what did he do?  “He was just an ordinary fisherman. A single share fisherman. He worked in the Mayflower when I was a small boy for Henry Salt and I used to go down with Father burning the logs, you know, when he was mending the nets. Later on he sailed in the ‘Our Boys’ with Bill (Pie) Pengelly’s family. My Gran was the sister to George Pengelly, that’s Bill’s father. She was a Pengelly.”

 

And in the streets in those days Sam I suppose you knew everybody? “We knew every house in Looe because there was nothing new built not until after the first world war.”

 

And what year were you born Sam? “1909. I’m 96. I have had good health all my life. I have 1 or 2 little things done. I had a stone in my saliva gland and they took the gland out because it was a bit close to artery or something. Another time, well twice, I went and had my eyes done. Cataracts.”

 

You went to school I suppose Sam, up Looe school? “Yes, up until I was 14. I left the day I was 14 because I had been in the top class for 2 years. I had skipped a class you see so I got into the top class for 2 years, well the last year all I did was read library books. You weren’t allowed to leave until you was 14. The day I was 14 I left and nobody came to look for me. I was supposed to go on until the end of the term really. I was clever at school, but I never had any feeling that I wanted to do a desk job or anything like. I always felt I wanted to be outdoors working.”

 

Were you apprentice to anyone? “Later I was in life. When I was 12 years of age I had a milk round. I used to work for Jack Skantlebury. He was a butcher and a dairy man. [I took the milk] all the way up Station Road and Shutta and up as far as, you know where the Boundry bungalow is, opposite there there was a Common Wood, I used to up as far as that, [all] before school in the morning. [I was paid] 3/6 a week. I took it all home and I was allowed thruppence a week, a penny when I was a youngster you know but when I was working I had thruppence a week and I used to go to the pictures. You could go in early like for thruppence, so once a week I went there, to the pictures. Piggy Lennards [little Cinema in East Looe]. No talkies then. There weren’t any talkies until I was courting and we went to Plymouth to see talkies.”

 

So when did Piggy Lennards start up I wonder? “Before my time. I can remember going over there and seeing films, they were very flickery you know, about the Russian Revolution in 1917.” Sort of a newsreel then Sam?  “Newsreel yea.”

 

When you was a boy did you play out Church End? “Yea, I used to go out Church End. Play all sorts, rounders.” There be lots of you I suppose? “Yea, dozens, dozens of boys. Used to go out there every night and play something, until it was dark. We used to live on the beach in the Summer, when we were young. We used to go around without any boots on too – bare feet. We used to go out to Skiddery Rock.” And did Mother take her washing up on the cliffs then? “Yes, to hang out over the bushes. Out there on a Monday, if it were a fine Monday, to go out there to be like a fall of snow with all the sheets hanging out.” And nothing ever got lost? “No, they all respected each others” What if it rained? “You had to run to take it in quick then you know. But we all had clothes lines as well. Out the back door. They didn’t go right across the street, they went out on a prop. You put the sheets out on the side of the hill and you put the small things on the [line outside the house].” How did mother do it? By hand I suppose? “We had a copper, an old fashioned copper. I would go out in the morning and stoke up and get it boiling. She would take it out from there after it had boiled a certain time and put it into what we used to call a ‘tray’, which was like a wooden tray thing and she’d put it in there with fresh water to rinse it out and then turn it with her hand [wring out] and then put it through the mangle. We had an old fashioned mangle with big wooded rollers.” I bet the washing was like white snow wasn’t it? “Oh lovely ,yes.”

 

Did you do your shopping down around there Sam? “Oh yes. There were a lot of shops down there. There was Mrs Thorne down on the quay and then there was Mrs Collins out the back of the church, [all] little grocer’s shops. And Mrs Mutton on the corner when you went up the street.” I have heard of Mrs Mutton ’cause Auntie Jane used to work there, remember my Aunt Jane Toms, married Arthur. She worked in Mrs Muttons doing housework I think, it was a big shop. “It was a big shop, and 2 entrances, you could go in one way and come out the other. [Sold] everything in the grocery line. There was one butcher up Shutta, he was called Yeo, and then there was another Yeo down in the Fore Street, and then there was butcher Bray, then butcher Skantlebury, and then there was another butcher Charke further out the street.”

 

So you had all the shops you needed, all the groceries? What about clothes? Did you have to wear from your older brothers sometimes, was it passed down? “Oh yea, it was always passed down. Of course Mother made all our jerseys. All we wore at the time was a jersey and short trousers, and stockings obviously. And winter time we had a jersey with the sleeves cut off inside and another one out over.” So it was lovely and warm. Did you ever have to wear a camphorated thing around your neck in winter? “Only if you had a bit of a cold.” Mother knitted all your jumpers then. “Yea, and socks and then she used to knit what they called contract knitting. She used to knit for the man that used to come round and give her half a crown for a jersey. She knitted, he would bring the wool and when he called next time he would pick up the jersey and that was half a crown” What a wonderful woman Sam. Did she live to a good old age? “She was 80 when she died.” Wonderful. Were you the youngest? “No, there was 3 younger than me. See, when the younger ones was born the others had left. The older ones had gone, see. My eldest brother was in the First World War, in destroyers in the Navy. [He survived the war] but he only had one lung when he finished because he had been in the water for too long. [He was] torpedoed 2 or 3 times. Then he went up to Plymouth when he left the Navy as a bricklayer because he was learning his trade with Mathew Taylor before he went. He was a bricklayer for so long and then he was made a charge hand but he died young because of his kidney. He would have been on dialysis but he was too old. At that time there were only a few of them about, see, and they only put them on the young ones. The elder ones wouldn’t allowed on and they simply faded away.”

 

I suppose the older girls used to give a hand later on did they? “Yes, but they used to go out to work you know packing fish. The eldest sister worked in the sardine factory when they did sardines.” On West Looe Quay? “Yes, where the sardine factory is, Taglios. He had fish pits as well but he used to do sardines then in tins. It was when my eldest sister was living at home. When I was very young I can remember hearing the hooter going when it was time to start and when it was time to finish. And I used to see the steam going up. It was very busy. They [the boats] come in loaded with fish. All the fish pits in West Looe and in East Looe, they all used to get full. Then they used to pack them.” Did you ever see them packing them? ’Cause they used to make a pretty star on the top or something. ”They used to finish some off mostly on the top. Certain woman were picked out to do the topping. Of course they were pressed down, the oil was pressed down and then they be refilled and pressed again.” Where did they go from Looe, to Italy or did they have to go away somewhere? “I don’t know, so far as I know they went aboard the boats down here and went to Italy I suppose as far as I know. I can’t remember them going anywhere else”

 

“I went as apprentice as a stone mason. After I had finished with Skantlebury’s I went on there until I was 15. When I left school ’cause I had a little more wages. I had 7/6d a week then for my work all day, and my food. I used to get out in the morning and I didn’t have any breakfast at home, I used to go straight over there and my breakfast would be ready. I stayed there until I was 15 and I couldn’t see any future, if you know what I mean. I wanted to get on a bit and I wanted to learn a trade. I always wanted to learn about work outdoors you know. I wanted to learn a trade and I heard they was looking for an apprentice down there in the stone cutting yard so I went down and they took me on anyway for a week or 2 trial to see whether they liked me or whether I liked them and then I had to sign the apprenticeship forms.” How many years? “6. I had a special document drawn up by the solicitors and father had to sign it to say they would keep me in clothes and good food and all that business. I was paid 10/- a week for 2 years then increased half a crown a year until at the last I was getting, well it should have been 30 shillings a week but I had to pay a few coppers, 1 and something I think, for the health stamp.” You were saying Sam that you had to pay a penny a week for the Doctor. When was that then? “When we was young there weren’t any health service and somebody used to collect this penny I suppose and went to the doctors somehow.”

 

“We were very poor but we were happy. We didn’t expect any ..” anything extra. And everybody was the same I suppose? “Oh yes, in the fishing line everybody was the same. Of course a boat owner would be better of than the ordinary fisherman but that was natural. There was only just the 2 well off people in the town that owned the gas works and the all the stores where they kept the grain and all that, and the coal stores. People that owned places like that were better off.”

 

All the rest of you more or less the same. In your home I suppose of a winter evening you’d all be sitting around the fire? “We were not. We couldn’t all get around the fire that’s why we were nearly always outdoors right to the last minute and have a bit of something to eat and go to bed.”

 

How many rooms did you have with a big family like that? “The bottom floor was a fair size living room and then there was a smaller room out the back where washing up and that was all done and the coal house. That was the ground floor. Up the stairs there was one big room from front to back, with windows in the back and windows in the front - one big room. That was Mother’s and Father’s room and the youngest of the children. The youngest one always slept in the same bed as Father and Mother. I remember, my earliest memory, was me sister next to me in with Mother and Father and Fernley and me, we were 2 years apart, we were sleeping in another bed. Then upstairs it would have been the same sized room but there was a partition put up there and the girls is in one and the boys in the other. And then on top of that we had a loft up in the roof space and we used to store all our potatoes there. We grew our own potatoes.”

 

Did you have an allotment? “Yes, up St Martin’s, up the colonies we called it. T’was a forest there before between the Steps Road and St Martin’s Road.  People come up and cut the trees down and then if you wanted a plot you had to dig out the roots of the trees. We used to call them mocks. We had to dig out the mocks. Each man had a strip down the cross.” Mainly potatoes? “If you had potatoes and fish you had the staff of life really. We always had fresh fish. Sometimes Mother would bring home a few herring that was mixed with the pilchards, and when she come to pack the pilchards she come across herrings she put them in her bag. And then she’d bring them home and we’d soak them over night to get the salt out of them and we used to use them but mainly we had fresh fish. That was our main diet. And of course we used to grow all our own green stuff and later on we used to have poultry as well. Eggs and the chicken.”

 

Did you all used to help in the allotment when you got older? “It took turns. There was always somebody that did most of it. I was the one that came along. After Jack and Fernley started fishing ’cause they came to me then. Father had bought a bit of land up Barbican Hill. He bought it for £75 and it went from Barbican Hill up to the Wooldown and that’s where they go now if they want to go up the Wooldown from Barbican, up through Cold Harbour Lane. I used to look after the chicken when they went away. They used to go up Bigbury fishing for herrings and I was the oldest one home then. I was home one Christmas and I had to kill a chicken. I didn’t know what to do. I thought to myself, if I chop his head off it was bound to die. I had a chopper and I went up and I put his head over a log and chop and he come off and he went up across without his head. I wasn’t frightened, just unusual, I didn’t expect it. Chicken was a luxury. You wouldn’t get it unless you worked for it.”

 

Did you have any hard times in the fishing? “Yes, my mother never complained that she had no money and we knew she went week after week without any. She was a good manager. She must have had a little bit in reserve somewhere. I never known her say that she was hard up but once she said to me, when I was grown up, she said when you were born Father was up Bigbury Bay after herrings and all she had in the house was 4 pence and the next week Father shared £7 and that was good money at that time.” Several weeks wages. “Men used to get only about £1 a week then.” When you think about it they were able to provide all the food and that on £1 a week. Makes you wonder doesn’t it.’Cause everything was pretty cheap then.

 

“When we was very tiny, small, we had a penny a week but when we was older we had thruppence. Like I said we used to go down anywhere where we fancied [to get sweets]. About that time Fred Lewis’ family came home from Ireland and they had a little shop as well in the same street with us. Just further along the street.”

 

Surely, one of your sisters married one of the boy Lewis’ “Yes, my youngest sister Gladys [married Fred]. She died on the last year sometime. Never had any trouble with our family. We was always told to keep off the drink. That’s the one thing my Mother wouldn’t stand, drink.” So none of you went in the pub? “No, I’ve never touched it in my life. The eldest boys [Lewises] went fishing see. Fred he couldn’t have been very old, he wasn’t quite as old as me. I should think he was about 6 or 7 when he came over. She was a Bettison. She married an Irish man and I think he had a business over there which he used to run. I think he died and then she came back. She had a big family.” Most of them were big families. “At that time, yes, 10 and 11. Your family [Dingles] was about 10 [11] and the Pearces they was 10.”

 

You didn’t have to look far for someone to play with did you Sam. And I bet you was all running round the quays.  “Yes, down on the quay, knew all the fishermen. [Saw the train come along the quay and] the big boats coming in with the coal and going away with China clay. Used to load up China Clay down by Middleton’s Corner. Used to come down in trucks. There used to be drying sheds up Moorswater. And they used to come down in trucks, down as far as Middleton’s Corner. The ship would come up to just around the corner and they would put a slide down and throw the clay on the slide and it would slide down in the hold.” A busy harbour at that time then? “Oh yes, coal and grain and timber all used to come in by boat. There were a lot of boats come in. And road stone used to come in and that used to go nearly up the bridge close to the war memorial, that part of the quay was fairly open and the road stone was always taken up as far as there. And they used a derrick to fill up a big maun with this road stone or sand what they have for making roads and lift the maun up and tip it on the quay. They used to do it that way.”

 

“There were a lot of Luggers right up to, I should think, the 20s or something like that, between the 2 world wars. [Then] the fishing was very poor and the buyers of the fish didn’t help them very much because they used to collude how much they would pay for the fish. That’s when a lot of boats got sold.”

 

[I was an apprentice] “stone mason working on the quay. There was a big crane out on the edge of the quay we used to load up the stone into the ships. And over what we call the granite quay there was a overhead crane on big timber legs. This crane would lift your stone up and take it east or west, north or south. Someone would have to go up in the crane and turn the handle and he would go east or west or north or south and we had sheds that would lift up and prop up while we was working in under but when we wanted the stone in to work on we could drop that down and he would bring the stone right in the place. All granite, I worked for a granite company see. The Head quarters was down Penryn. I had just finished my trade. We had cut the stone to build Lambeth bridge and widening of Putney Bridge and the raising of the embankment because they was flooded one year. I had been on it for 6 years then I was out my time just when it all had to close [because] of bad times. If you wanted a job we had to go to Penryn to work. They closed Cheese Ring quarry that we had all our stone from and Moorswater and Looe [all] closed. And if you wanted a job you had to go to Penryn. Ronald Pengelly was working with us then. He had another year to go before he was out of his time, so he had to go to Penryn to finish his time and I was a mate and I said I would go down with him. Of course I had to get a job as well. I was down there about 12 months and then I had a letter from Mr Henry Northern who was the manager for East Looe Granite Works.” He was to do with East Looe Methodist Church. “That’s right, yes. And he said he’d been around his contacts as he had been manager there so long and he had got a lot of work together and whether I would come home and be a foreman. He was taking on men. I come home and I had been saving a bit you know and we got married about 2 years after I came home [to a Looe girl] Phyllis Warne. We used to come home every third week. We couldn’t come home every week, not enough wages.” Where did you go to live? “East Looe. You know where Mutton and Martin’s shop is. On the next floor up there was a kind of a flat with water and a toilet. Jack and Ruby lived there. Then Jack and Ruby went to West Looe to live and above them was Mabel Ellery and Reg Dingle so they went down into Jack’s flat and so we went up to where they was living, the next floor up, but there was nothing up there, no water, no toilet or anything. I had to go downstairs for every drop of water [and for the shared indoors toilet]. After we had been there a few months we found out that it was full of mice. And I got traps and caught some of them. We went to a film one night and I laid a trap just where I thought he would come out and when we come home I shook off my shoes like that and said that will frighten them away. The first time we’ve heard them she [Phylis] jumped up on the table out of the way. I came home and I said there that’ll find them and sure enough it did. One was out as he went back to his hole he got into my trap. The trap went home and the mouse flew out onto the floor and was kicking you know but his back was broken he was dead.” You didn’t stay there very long then? “No. I went to work and next day I said to my mates. I said to come out from where I am. I was telling the yarn and Bert Trathen was with us. Bert said ‘I will sell you a house’ he said ‘and lend you most of the money.’ So he did. It was an old cottage down the street where George and Johnny Martin used to live. They used to buy rabbit skins. Bert bought this and he had it knocked down and rebuilt. ’Cause there was great big thick walls, in some places 5ft thick. Nice little house. Nearly opposite Union House [in West Looe]. We was there 60 years. Modern, nice bathroom. There was a front room and a back room and a little kitchen and on the next floor a nice big front bedroom and a smaller back bedroom and a bathroom and up the top there was 2 attic rooms, single rooms. I bought it. I had already furnished the house I was in. I never had the money see. I had £25 cash and I was friendly with Edwin Pearce the builder, we was boys together, and said I had to get £50 somewhere to put a deposit on the house and he said I will lend you £50 and the wages for the best craftsmen were no more than £3 a week so you know that was a big sacrifice for him. But he was single see and I was married. He was a good friend of me. I had to get the £50 and I had £25 and that was the deposit and then I owed another £500 on top of that. My Mother said ‘you hanging a mill stone around your neck for the rest of your life’, she said. I said ‘I’ll chance it’ so I did. And over the years we paid for it.’” It was quite a big thing to do Sam wasn’t it? “T’was a big thing but I couldn’t carry on like it was. I was always in work, I was never out of work.”

 

And then you went with your other brother Gerald didn’t you? “That was after the war. When I went to Mr Northern to work I stayed with them for several years and then he wanted to retire and by that time the work that we was getting was very little down on the quay. Ronald Pengelly and me was working together at that time and we took over from Mr Northern. But work was very slack and it didn’t last very long before the war started. I was in the Home Guard, the Local Defence Volunteer they called it at the time, because the Germans had come right through as far as the channel ports and we was expecting them to come across any minute see. So I volunteered for that. I wasn’t called up then because of me age. They used to call them up by their age but Gerald who was working with me, he went first, he went when he was 22 just after he finished his trade. Then there was only Ronald and me left, there was nothing hardly doing, so I said to him one day, look I am going to push off, I don’t know about you, but I am going to push off and find a decent job somewhere. So he said I’ll hang about in the boats he said. I said I’ll leave everything to you. You carry on as if it were your own. All I wanted was a job. Anyway that’s what happened. Because he wanted to get in the Navy, he didn’t want to go in the Army see. He wanted to go in the Navy so he thought if he was fishing he’d get a better chance. Eventually he got in the NAFFI service [supplying the ships].”

 

“I went up Raleigh camp, they was building that one at that time. I was up there for so long as a labourer. I had a job. While I was there I heard they was going to build a radio location station, they called it, but it was actually a radar station out Downderry. So I thought to myself I might get a chance to go out there as a tradesman so I went along there and I got a job and I stayed there until the job was finished.” How did you get out there? ”Workmen used to be carried around then. You’d jump on a lorry and all go out there. A lot of men come up from down west working out there. I was there right from the very start. First of all we had to dig trenches around and concrete in great big steel hooks in the ground. From that it took the camouflage nets right over the site. There was 3 sites out there. The camouflage had to go up before we did any works so the Germans wouldn’t know what was going on underneath. I was there on that right to the end of the job. Was all mined out there. We had an accident one day. One of the men that use to come around to inspect it, he and one of the foremen were doing something, I don’t know what they were up to, but one of the mines went up. It was mined all round. They was all full of shrapnel.  One died on the spot and the other one I don’t know what happened to him. I was down under at the time just below the road building the coal bunker and all of a sudden this explosion went off and all the shrapnel come out over the top. Whistling over the top ’cause I was down under see. I went up to see what was and there was these 2 men.”

 

So when did you start with Gerald on your monumental stuff? “That was after the war. Gerald went in the Army when he was 22 just after he had finished his trade. Then I went out there till that job finished and then I went on another one and then they picked me up because while I was on this job, the radio station, while I was there I was a reserve occupation.” They didn’t call you up then did they? “No, but as soon as I moved they did. I was in the Royal Engineers. Here are my medals. I was in the Normandy landings.”

 

***Break taken as he was too upset by these memories to carry on* **

 

“I knew what I was going to do [after being demobbed] because I liked me job. But how to go about it, that was the thing. I come home and I got in touch with the West Looe Town Trust and I got a place that I could build a shed out Beech Terrace.” I remember it. Bottom of the cemetery there. I can remember seeing you working there. I suppose you did that then until you retired? “I did that. Then Peter [his son] came along, he wanted a job and he tried to get several jobs but he couldn’t, there weren’t a lot of jobs about so he came along with me to work. And Gerald came along with me. I asked Gerald to come in partnership with me but he would work with me but didn’t want to be involved. We worked together as a little family business but t’wasn’t quite enough to keep us going. So I had to take on building jobs as well. ’Cause I done a good bit of building while I was in the Army as well. The first house we built was Peter’s up here. I bought these 2 bits of land one after the other and then Peter said he would like to come up here to live so we built that house here for him.”

 

Well Sam you was never afraid was you to have a go? You bought a house and then you bought some land. It was quite a thing to do wasn’t it? “It was. I bought this piece first this side. I bought it in 2 lots, it was 2 orchards. Old orchards all overgrown. After I bought this one I said to the wife if the other one comes up for sale I shall buy that and that will make it a building site then, because one width wasn’t quite enough to do what you wanted. Wasn’t very long after before that one was up for sale. Mr Harry Pearn, when I was a boy I used to clean out his boats. He had small boats which he would allow up the river, well when they come down they would have a lot of leaves and stuff in the boats and I used to go down and clean out these boats for him. He used to give me 6 pence for cleaning the boats out. He owned this other piece and he put it up for sale and I got on the phone to him and I said I wants that bit of land that you got up for sale. I said wasn’t very long ago I bought a piece of land and I’ll pay the same as I paid for the other and he said alright and he took it out the auctioneers and let me have it.”

 

You did a great job to have this lovely bungalow. “We built this ourselves, Peter and me and John, my grandson, and Derek Toms, he did the carpentry and we did the drains, foundations and all the block work. I was 82 years old then.”

 

It’s been fantastic to talk to you Sam. I loved your memories of the back streets and Mother and the washing and everything. You had a good home life. What an experience all those years. Where you’ve been and what you have done. What are your special memories then? Any special memories then? “Just full of good memories. You know Piggy Lennard had his cinema. When we got married we was coming down over the hill afterwards, I was East Looe Methodist and that’s where we were married, we were coming down the hill and Piggy Lennard put on the wedding march.” Did you have a little reception? “Yes, over Palfrey’s East Looe, used to be Brians, we had the reception over there and then we went on honeymoon up to London up me sister’s for a week. I bought a map of London, underground and all that, and we used to carry it about all day long and go home to Maude’s night time.” You used to sing in the fishermen’s choir didn’t you? “Oh yes, I was in there from the time I was 15 and before that we had a little choir of our own. Harry Pengelly had a little choir, and played the organ. And then Harold Mutton invited all our choir into the fishermen’s choir. Everyone who wanted to go in.”

 

“I got photos up here, I will show you.” [Break whilst Sam got his box of mementos.] “Edward used to keep these little bits in here from the first world war, and I done the same after. That’s my army book there, it’s all falling to pieces now. My number there, 14377921.” You haven’t altered that much Sam. “No, I only had hair then. Let me put my other glasses on. What I was looking for was little photographs. There’s photographs and the’re  showing all the boats in there look.” It was a busy little port. They had luggers like in Looe, or they look much the same anyway. “There’s one back there look, I brought it home [a model]. A French crabber that’s supposed to be, Joe Mallett did it up for me but it wants re-newing.” You brought her all the way home? “Only the hull.”

 

“We had to knock down a row of houses, there was no people living there see, they was all run away long time ago. We had to knock down a row of houses to widen the road to get the big lorries down to get the petrol. We could get petrol in there when we couldn’t get it on the Mulberry dock. Sometimes there was strong winds and that, they couldn’t get in. Then used to come in this port with oil and we had to knock down this row of houses to widen the road. Before we blew them up, we had a scrounge around like you do you know, and I found this hull up in attic. And I thought to myself I must get this one in my pocket and had it put it in a bag that we had for tent pegs and every time we moved on I chucked it up in the wagon and when we got up to Antwerp I had me first leave and I brought ’im home.” I had no idea you had all that experience, no idea whatsoever. “This is what I come out for. That’s Peter when he went to school.” That’s me Sam there in Sunday school. And that’s my sister Peg in front of me. I have got this photograph. When we went West Looe Methodist Sunday school. “That’s the oldest one I got of the fishermens’ choir and that was took up Plymouth when we went up to sing up Eggie Westons up Plymouth before the war. Jack Little there he used to say recitations.” I see Alan’s father’s there, Aberdie?. “That’s Edward Soady down the street and then Jack Little there. Next door to Reg Dingle isn’t it? This come from the Berlin stadium, the Olympic stadium. We had to go in there and clear it all out. It was used for a Hitler youth movement and we had orders to go in and clear out everything that belonged to him. And that’s the badges that I brought home just for keepsake. That’s one of the little tie pins [with the swastika on and the eagle].”  

 

What can I say except thank you, a big thank you.

 

4)   Interview with Pam Tambling   ref Looe in the 20^th century     20^th July 2006

 

The Streets & Houses

 

The back streets were more or less the same layout as they are today with a few exceptions, a few older houses have been demolished, one had an overhanging upper storey so may have been 15^th century, it stood in Middle Market Street, opposite the back of the museum.  The streets were cobbled, all except Lower Chapel  Street  which was concreted and known as Concrete Street. They looked different from today though.

 

I lived in a total of 4 houses in the back streets, I was born in Clifford Cottage and lived there until I was 11. We had 4 bedrooms, 3 large and 1 small, my grandfather lived in that one. He had a brother who went out to Canada in the Gold Rush.

 

We had a big table and a chest of drawers, everybody had those, it had a piece of net on it and ornaments, flatbacks etc. Things were passed down like watches and jewellery.

 

  Mum had a bathroom put in, nobody nearby  had one of those, but we had an outside lavatory  at the front, so did the cottage now called Bywaters.  I don’t remember the coat of arms being on the wall and there was no greenery on  it. A family lived downstairs and I remember they had twins they pushed around in a large pram.

 

Every doorstep was washed everyday, cobbles were swept and brass on doors polished.

 

The cottages often had several families living in each one, some poorer families lived in two rooms.  Buildings, such as the one which  is now Fourniers and The Smugglers Cott had many occupants. In those days, Hannafore was for the rich and the back streets were for the poor. There were no council houses and everyone had to work.  When Woodlands View was built, people wanted to move there into houses with better facilities.  I cried, I wanted to move, I went up to a friend’s house there, the kitchen had a boiler you lit a fire underneath and had hot water.

 

Mother owned her house by this time, Clifford Cottage. She lived one side and a lady called Mrs Toms lived the other side, they used the same stairs. Next to this is the building which is now Bywaters Restaurant, there were 4 families all squashed in there.  There was nowhere else for people to live.

 

Ye old Cottage was a house where my friend lived, later it became a restaurant.

 

There was a street behind Reeves, which was on the Quay, it was called

“Dark Alley”, we would never go there, it was dark with lots of old stores.

 

Prices of these cottages increased after the war and, in 1972, we sold our cottage for £7,500 and bought a bungalow with lots of ground plus all the furniture for that.

 

Diet

 

They were mostly  fishing families. Living in the back streets was like being part of a huge family, everyone was an “auntie” or “uncle”, we were all the same. We were brought up on fish, our family  did not eat  pilchards, although some did,  we had mackerel, a lovely dish was potted mackerel, cooked in the oven, they smelled lovely.   I was a wartime baby, so of course we had wartime food on ration, but we did not go hungry. I did remember bananas which you could not get during the war.  We were lucky, my father was  a baker’s delivery man for Brians ( now Palfreys), he went to all the outlying farms and came home with butter etc. Mother never went short. He even had a little bucket for making ice cream, he used to go down to the fish quay and get ice, I always had ice cream.

 

We all had ovens but we all used to go with our dishes on Sundays and have the food cooked in the Bakery ovens, my uncle worked in Brians as a baker.  If you got a hole in your metal dish, not being able to afford new ones, you used to have small metal discs called pot menders which you put inside the dish over the hole.

 

Mum owned the building now a Delicatessan, which has a huge cloam oven but she never opened it up. Mum bought the house for £600.

 

We had a big black stove which was alight all the time and a big saucepan on it with “Kidley Broth” made out of marrow bone and vegetables. We ate it from a basin with a piece of bread. We used to have bread and milk with sugar.

 

We never  bought fish, always had it given to us. I remember one fish called ling, it was baked in butter and was delicious. Even the cats had fresh fish not tinned cat food.

 

My father went to work as second chef at the Hannafore Hotel and cooked for my wedding reception. I did not see him, we did not speak as my parents had parted. My uncle gave me away. When I was about 19 , I went to see him, he had TB., he was at Didworthy. I had had fluid on the lung and was in bed for 2 years, my only view was the Bodriggan Hotel and the houses above.

 

I used to go to my auntie’s when they had roast dinner and she used to give me a roast potato in a piece of newspaper. My auntie lived off the square, it  has now been pulled down and the gap is now part of the yellow house off Market square with the outside staircase.

 

There were no fridges, only a food safe out at the back, we shopped every day.

 

Some people grew vegetables on the “Colonies” My friend Mary’s father had a plot there. The new potatoes grown there were lovely.

 

Everyone went rabbitting but you weren’t allowed to mention rabbits if you were a fisherman. If someone did use the word, you dud not go out in your boat.

 

Shops

 

My mum used to do bed & breakfast for the cycling club. I don’t remember workers living amongst the families, there was no room.

 

There were shops in the streets, at the end of Chapel   Street where Jimmy Dingle had his betting shop, was a grocery owned by Mrs Stevens, next door was Mrs Soady’s grocery shop, Osborne House was also a grocery shop and across the street from Fournier’s was yet another grocery shop. When I say grocery shops, some used to sell only a few things. They all made a living.  We had a shoemaker down there called Mr Pengelly.

 

Life

There were no dustbins, people used to bundle up their rubbish in  newspaper and the men would take it with them when they went to sea, then they would  heave it over the side of the boat. When I moved  when we married in 1964, I had a dustbin but had to take  it inside so that the streets were clear for fire engines. When we went paddling on the beach or in the river, we used to find bits of glass & china from people’s rubbish, mum used to  used them to decorate flower pots.

 

The pilchard cellars were in the bay. There used to be a pilchard factory out in the woods, I wanted to work there but my mother would not allow it so I went to work in the education office out at Liskeard.

 

We used to go out on the quay in the evenings to watch the boats unloading, the nets were shaken out. We thought it was a wonderful life. The beach was our playground, we swam in the sea despite sewerage being very evident. There was always sea weed on the beach, we used to jump from the promenade onto heaps of it. There were also beach huts, we used to take picnics and collect tea and ice cream from Bassets café. My sons were brought up on the beach, from April to October, we could not afford holidays. My wages were £5.00 a week. Unfortunately the huts were taken away when they were vandalised, in latter years.

 

As children we used to play round the piles of granite and make camps with old fish boxes, it was very dangerous and we would go home stinking of fish. We also used to swing on the nets which had been barked.

 

On the beach was a shiny rock called the “Skittery Rock”, I tore some silk knickers sliding down that when I was dressed for Sunday School.

 

We had Sunday School anniversaries when we wore our new clothes and straw hats. There were outings in charabancs to the Cheeswring and Lanhydrock. We even had a Maypole in the school yard. 

 

Another favourite pastime was rolling down the grassy banks of the Boscarne which was a very high class hotel. It was built by Billy Boscarne who used to chase us. It had high walls and iron gates which were taken away during the war.

 

People used to hang their washing out in the streets and I spread handkerchiefs on the cliffs when I was a little girl. Sheets were also spread up on the cliffs. People used to sit out on blankets. Seagulls were not such a problem in these days, they did not come inland so much.

 

We all went to the school in West Looe, now pulled down and replaced by flats. The infants were mixed but when you went into the juniors, there were separate parts for boys & girls with different entrances and different playgrounds.  If you did not pass the exam for Liskeard Grammar School, you stayed in Looe as there were classes for older children.  (Pam went to Liskeard Grammar School) We used to walk from Liskeard Station up to the site beyond the Registry Office in Oak Park road.

 

Regatta Day

 

There were boats, chasing one another, a greasy pole coated with goose fat, I don’t remember anyone winning, most fell off. There was diving for plates too and I remember the quays were packed with people watching, there don’t seem so many today for similar events.

 

 People did all their shopping in Looe. There were dress shops, butchers’ shops, bakeries…my father was a delivery man for Brian’s bakery which is now Palfrey’s. He delivered to all the farms and brought home farm butter for the family.

 

We ate well, not pilchards, they were for export, but mackerel, ling etc. I loved soused mackerel. People made their own pasties and dinners were often taken to the bakery to be cooked in the oven for a few pence.

My mother lived in the little shop opposite the Bullers’ Arms ( now a Delicatessan)  There is a huge oven in there but when Mum lived there, it was behind a partition which Mum never removed.  Nan lived upstairs and her bathroom floor was the top of the oven.

 

We lived in what is now called Clifford Cottage. We had a toilet outside the front door.

 World War 2

 

I remember war being declared, Mum came out, I was playing in the street, and told me not to go on the beach. Hilma Hocking was nearby in her high pram.

 

During the war, the  Market Square, where the original market was held, years ago,  had a big water tank in it, to use if incendiary bombs were dropped, and an air raid shelter. It was made of brick and when it was dug out, the sand underneath was full of shells.  Luckily, no incendiaries dropped there, but there were some dropped in Shutta, I believe a German plane was being chased by an English one and dropped them to lighten his load.

 

The Home Guard used to exercise there.

 

There were tank traps at the beach end of each of the back streets and barbed wire on the beach itself.

 

A lot of shops were taken over by the Army. There were Americans from Bake camp. They used to promise us a party but it never happened. I don’t remember the alleged problems between black & white Americans, I was too young. Some girls married them and went to America but I don’t think anyone from Looe went. They knew they would never see their families again, now it’s just a plane trip away. Mum’s sister married an English soldier, a sergeant major stationed at Nailsea, where there was a big gun emplacement.

 

I do remember the bomb landing on Looe Island, we were in the air raid shelter,  but I do not remember  the B17 coming down.

 

 

My husband did not do his National Service in the army but went into the Merchant Navy for 5 years.

 

Several families emigrated to Australia.

 

The railway came right along the Quay, I think it carried china clay or coal.

 

A steamer used to come in from Plymouth and run trips round the Eddystone lighthouse. Small boats would carry you out to the steamer.

 

Duchy Café was where the Double Decker now stands, it was very smart and served “Kunzle cakes” High tea was served there.

 

Margaret Dann had a café in Higher Market Street, she served wonderful roast dinners. I can see her husband now sitting at the back of the café, cutting meat with a cigarette in his mouth. Apple Tart was a favourite with loads of cream and as teenagers, we used to go in and eat a plate of chips.

 

There were shops in Higher Market St, Wiltons the Butcher, Funland,  a café where the hairdressers is now  and a wool shop where the sweet shop is now.  Brewers was a cottage. Marshalls had a fish & chip shop, there was an ice cream parlour too. There was a fish shop and Middleton’s china shop, I remember, he sold Clarrice Cliffe china.  Mutton & Martins clothes shop was on the corner.

 

The Coop was there, some grocery shops and Broads butchers with all the carcasses hung up, a bit frightening for the children. The slaughterhouse was where the IT Centre is now, he used to bring the cattle down the hill.

Children thought it lovely to see the cows but had no idea where they were going.

 

Elephants used to come down the hill from the circus in the field at the top. Mrs Curry had a house up there behind where the Spar shop is now, the field was there.

 

I am in a photograph taken when they cut the road to Eastcliffe, I was a child.

 

I remember a lovely big fair on East Looe Quay and motorbike racing on the beach, I remember the smell of Redex.

 

Before the blocks were put on the beach to stop the cliff slipping, there were separate areas for girls and boys to change under their towels.

 

Elizabeth Toms stopped them filling in the channel where people swam near Tom Barber’s rock.

 

Millendreath

 

When I was a little girl. I was taken, in my pushchair, together  with a smart picnic set with china, not plastic cups etc. every Sunday along the path which then ran to Millendreath. We picked primroses in the withy patches. There was nothing there but a café serving teas and icecreams. There were lots of adders in the fields.

 

Coads was a large smart shop we did not go in there but the smell of coffee was lovely, I knew a delivery boy there, he had a bike with a big basket.

 

We used to make our own ginger beer. The Corona man came every week and took away our empty bottles.

 

We had a man who came with a suitcase, selling clothes, people paid weekly. We had jumble sales in the Mechanics Institute, now a solicitor’s office.

 

There were 2 cinemas in Looe, one in West Looe where the Amusement Arcade is now, and one in the Public Hall, now the indoor market. If you made a noise, they threw you out. You always stood up for the National Anthem. When we were young and not interested in the news, we used to slip out, get  a drink of water from a tap in a wall, then go up Shutta Lane and scrump some apples to take back to the cinema. You did not hurt anyone but, technically it was stealing.  Nor did you think it was stealing to go out to Plaidy and pick flowers from the gardens to take home to mum.

 

I planted a Silver Birch tree on the cliff at East Looe on Coronation Day

( 1936) I was all dressed in red, white and blue. There were three of us, we all got a framed certificate with a threepenny bit inside. It is still in mint condition.

 

My mother worked for British Legion  charity jumble sales, she did all the sorting in her house and the ladies came to sell it in the Public Hall.

 

My mum was very friendly with Sybil Trathern, we used to go over to her house.

 

I worked for Mrs Whale when she bought the  wool shop from Miss Olver, her husband, Dick, was an undertaker, there was also Harry Whale. They had a shop where they made coffins opposite the Bullers Arms next to the cottage where the oven is, which was owned by my mother.

 

We had clothes shops, one was a large emporium called Madame Vera’s where Kernow café and Harveys fish & chip shop is now. Madame Vera’s sold corsets, clothes and wool. then there was Manchester Stores, which was a bit cheaper. There was also a shop owned by Mrs Tiltman and another owned by Mrs Bassett.

 

The Co op was just past the Post Office, where the pasty shop is now, it went right back to the Quay and sold all sorts of things including furniture. During the war it was the YMCA.

 

Where Pendragon is now, there were 2 shops, a paper shop and a Cornish stone shop.

 

You did not have to go out of Looe for anything, we even had a Gas showrooms where you could pick up a cooker.

 

Martins Dairy has been there for a long time and where Boots is now there was a garage.

 

Most people made their own pasties but you could buy them at Brian’s bakers, they also had a café next to the Cabin Club, where the Indian restaurant is now. You went dancing upstairs in the Cabin Club.   

 

There were 2 ladies the Misses Bell, who made pasties near Margaret Dann’s café.

 

Mum used to make pasties for Sunday tea even after we had had a big roast dinner, she also  made her own saffron buns. I used to make my own with very rich pastry, similar to that made in Sarah’s pantry. I put in  chopped up potato, onion, swede & skirt, cut fine, you get excellent gravy with skirt, and of course, I can crimp.

 

My husband worked for Curtis & Pape then he built 5 self drive boats and bought 2. Mick Pape drew out the plans, incorporating steering wheels. He ran these boats for years, they were painted turquoise., not just varnished. At one time there were 90 boats in the harbour but, due to health & safety, all are gone now. First of all, they were stopped going out to sea, which meant you could only go up river and that finished off the trade as the river is tidal.

 

My husband  was a fisherman for years, I did not see him much but  if you married a fisherman, you knew they had to put in the hours, you get used to it. If you want the money, you put in the hours.

 

The Kingersley family had a boat shaped like a swan, which their daughter used to ride in.  This family owned the Island at one time.

 

We used to go out to the island with picnics and even a windup gramophone. A crowd of us went over in the Redwings. A friend of mine, called Derek, had a boat jammed in the rocks there.

 

Apart from being superstitious  about saying the word “rabbit” you did  not launch the boat on a Friday. You would not move into a new house on a Friday. There were also restrictions about what could be done on a Sunday, no hair washing or cutting of nails.

 

The museum was a reading room and later a library.

 

The Fletcher family lived in the lower floor of the museum, it was cold, big and gloomy, 2 main rooms, heated only by a fire and there were only 2 windows, both looking over Middle Market St. ( the front windows were uncovered in the 1970s by Michael Maddox, during restoration)  My friend, Mary, lived there before the Fletchers.

 

Arthur Burring was a shoemaker who had a cottage at the back of Brewers and he kept a pet monkey.( we have a photo)

 

A few years ago, I had to take a girl aside and warn her to be careful what she said about a person as it was quite likely that the one you were talking to might be a relation.

 

We used to go and watch the people coming out at pub turn out time. My auntie used to take me, saying “ Come on lets go and have some fun”  The fishermen used to join together and sing in the streets outside. We saw them rolling home drunk. They were happy times.

 

 

Mervyn Williams (MW) in discussion with John (Irvine) Eckersall

And Peter King 2.10.03 at Nesdon House

Mervyn’s mother was a Londoner and was down here on holiday when she met his Dad. He chased her back to London and they got married and lived down here in Looe. His Dad owned "Silver Spray 1" built in 1926 in Looe by Arthus Collins. "Silver Spray II" was built by Pearns

and MW worked on it.

Dad was a fisherman out of Looe. He was the first Treasurer of the Shark Angling Club of Great Britain and fished for shark before Brigadier Caunter set up the SACGB.

Clive Caunter (solicitor) lived in Comon Wood Manor (now Barclay House Hotel). Caunter had his own boat "Silver Spray II" (was it?) and Clive fished with Dad in the late 40’s after the war and well before the sharking business started for tourists. They were out one day and Dad had problems with the anchor so suggested to CC that they drift. They drifted with the rubby dubby trail and caught a dozen sharks instead of the usual 2 or so which were caught when the boats were at anchor. This was the start of the drifting for sharks and Dad was the originator.

Irvine (John Eckersall’s middle name) and MW went into the Merchant Navy College together. MW started at Pearns in 1951 at the age of 15. He became and apprentice at 16 and worked there until he was 21. There was a year’s probation and indentures were only signed after the year. Apprentices did odd jobs, sweeping up etc, but mainly helped the boat builders. At this time, 1951, Harry Pearn was taking a back seat and Gerald and Norman ran the business although Gerald was the senior brother. G & N would design the boats which were genrally round bottomed. Dad’s boat was shingle built, round-bottomed, "Silver Spray II". They also built "Sunlit Waters" for Torquay, this had a deep keel and last time MW saw her she was in Plymouth in 1993. "Silver Spray II" is now in Mevagissy.

Then the Redwing 151 was built and featured in the Festival of Britain. Pearns had a contract for 30 Redwings for Tenby and Fishguard to start their fleet, all of these were built at Pearn’s in the early 50’s. All Redwings were built in Looe either at Roy Dan’s yard on the Polperro Road (where Clifford Adams served his time) or at Pearn’s. JE thinks there was a licence to build Redwings somewhere in the USA, the Uffa Fox Redwings however were built only in Looe and were originally called West Country Redwings. Pearn’s also had an Admiralty contract for double skinned whalers they had an Enfield air-conditioned engine with quick release couplings so that the engine could be removed and the boat used as a sailing or rowing boat, sometimes therefore called "the 3 in 1". Harry Pearn built the first of these upside-down. 64,000 copper rivets were used in each and all had to be put in by hand. During the years 1953 – 55 they also built "surfboats" for the Marines, these were double-skinned mahogany boats. They also had a contract for 6,000 Harley floats made of frame and netting and very much like a life raft that hung over the side of naval vessels. These were powered by paddles made of wet English elm. After construction they would await shipment on the Station Yard at Looe but they tended to twist and buckle and MW thinks they never were any good even though they left Pearn’s OK. They were about 8’ x 4’. They also made "Looms" (?) for whalers from silver spruce. The apprentices were only allowed to make 8 per day on piecework. It would have been wrong to make more than the senior partners and their wages only covered 8 per day. There were about 8 apprentices at one time. Reg Tamblin and Jim Currah were tradesmen. Working hours were 8am until 5pm plus Saturday morning work.

MW lived at Pendennis with his parents at the time, near the bottom on Barbican Hill. The house is now demolished but he has a photo of it. Dad was still fishing in the winter and sharking in the summer with visitors. Mervyn and Amelia (Mill) met when he was 17 and she was 15, they became engaged when he was 20. Milla’s brother Goff was in the Merchant Navy and suggested MW join which he did on completion of his apprenticeship. Goff was killed in 1967 On the British Standard (?Crown) in a tanker spark explosion at Umm Said(??) His widow, now remarried, lives up on the Barbican near the dentist’s surgery. MW went into the Marchant Navy on Boxing Day 1955 and spent 43 years on tankers as a chippy. He was also in charge of the freshwater and plumbing etc. Had had experience working in brass and steel at Pearn’s. MW then talked about how the 60,000 rivets were put into the boats. The men were inside and the boys outside underneath. Land nails made of copper were put into the timbers first, marks were made where the batons were to go. The planks then steamed with the nails already inserted in the correct places. Look in Pearn’s workshop, on the side where Roy Pearn’s chandlery now is and you should see the holes where the steam boxes were. Timbers were all cut, planed and chamfered before being steamed. One of the apprentices would stoke the boiler. When the timber was sufficiently steamed and flexible the boys would bring them out and, with 4 persons, the timber was attached, looking like a porcupine with the nails sticking out ready to be driven. Finally they were riveted. MW worked in the part of the yard where the gift shop is now located. He worked also on speedboats where he would be involved in glass-papering and varnishing. However, when timbers were being steamed and attached he would come down and work on the main floor. Meanwhile, Gerald Pearn ran speedbots in the bay. There were 2 "Miss Looe" plus "Phantom" and "Comet". The present Thunderbird and Superspeed were built on the moulds of Miss Looe but, of course, the present boats are fibreglass. The Miss Looe boats were built from spruce, one speedboat being built for a timber merchant in Sarawek, Borneo..

Nigel and Clive Pearn worked on the "Steppers Point" but there was controversy with the purchaser, some specs had been changed and the case went to the High Court. Pearn brothers lost and then split up – Norman staying at the Millpool and Gerald going to Morval (Note different names at start of paragraph). Clive won a contract to build motor fishing vessels for the Admiralty during the was, MW has a photo of the Kerscrell being built up at Jewson Yard at Polean. Another yard taking apprentices was the West Looe Quarry Yard (Curtis and Pape). After Polean (a Curtis Yard) finished and was turned into a canning factory, only two yards were taking apprentices. Although Wet Quarry was built for the war effort it continued well after the war.

Boscarn was a very prestigious, high-class, hotel, clients would come in chaffeur-driven cars. In the evenings residents would walk the promenade in their suits and dresses. Local lads would try to kick a football ovr the wrought iron gates, whoever did it had to climb the gates and retrieve the ball. A totally different world today. Young lads never got bored, they made their own fun. There was great animosity between East and West Looe, the boys would throw stones at each other down by Little Beach at low tide. An E Looe boy would never go out with a W Looe boy. Mill was born in W Looe in a private nursing home on West Road, now a block of flats owned by Ken Underwood. She was brought home to Nesden House at four days old and has lived there ever since. MW lived in Fawn Cottage on Barbican Hill. There were 2 cottages, a coaching house over a stable, within there was a cobbled courtyard and a manger and trough for the horses which used to come to Looe via

Barbican Hill.Dad (Edgar) won the Cock of the Fleet trophy (photo) in 1995 – 58 for the best shark catch. In one year they caught 6,000 sharks, some no bigger than dogfish. It decimated the shark stocks.

 

6)     Roger Bennett talks with Mike Fursman August 2009

 

Mike:  Well, I was born in 1932, so a lot of what I remember was in the war years.  I was 7 when it started.  It wasn't a natural childhood as you might say, with the war going on, and it was all flavoured with things that happened.  Mother had a guest house in East Looe at Penharvon, and it was took over by the military for two or three years as officers' quarters.  At the back there at St John's hotel was where the batmen used to be.  So we had 3 officers and we were allowed 3 rooms for ourselves.  It was a big factor in the war, and my sister who was 13 years older than me was in the WAAFs and used to turn up now and again.  She was stationed at Mountbatten.

 

I think 'twas in 1940, my auntie came down from Sandplace - she ran Sandplace Post office - and she used to visit us on a Sunday.  This one Sunday evening, Gerry decided to drop a parachute bomb on Looe Island.  Promptly blew our french windows out - we were overlooking the seafront.  'Twas the one that blew a crater on top of the island.  And, of course, buses and all were stopped.  A young man who was very keen on my sister had to walk her back to Sandplace, 'cause there was no transport.  Quite frightening experience, I remember 'twas on the radio, Lord Haw Haw and the story was that they'd hit and probably sunk a battleship off Plymouth, George V.  I s'pose from way up, in the evening there, the island would have looked like a battleship.

 

Roger: Where did you go to school?

 

Mike:  I went to Morval first of all, and then, when I was 7, I went to Looe School, then to Liskeard.  We've sung the old school song together, Roger!  See, I can remember things like that, but the things I was supposed to remember to get me marks in the exam were a bit lacking!

 

Roger: Who was the Head of the Junior School then?

 

Mike:  He was Jimmy Edwards.

 

Roger: Not the Jimmy Edwards?

 

Mike:  No, no, he was a much thinner version.  He used the cane though, and two or three others used to use it too.  In fact, when they finally knocked the old school down, I was told they was a bit puzzled when they lifted the floorboard, there was a pile of withies down there.  Of course, these were the canes the lads had fed down through the knot holes over the years, they'd accumulated.  One of the builders knew exactly what they was!

 

Roger: I wonder what happened to them.  Should have gone to the museum.

 

 

 

 

 

Mike: Yeh, they should have.  You see, when you think that years ago, they used to make all the crab pots and lobster pots out of withies, they used to collect them from Millendreath more often than not.  I think some they sent down from Somerset, you know, but a lot of them they got locally.  I can remember seeing the fishermen coming home over the cliffs with a bundle over their shoulders.  There was one old boy, he used to sit in that arch by the Ship Hotel and he used to make his pots there.  His grandson is still living in Looe.  That's Edward Toms - they've been a fishing family over the years.

 

Roger: Talking about that archway, did you know Alfie Cook?

 

Mike:  Course I do.  Used to sing like a lark.  He used to set his canary off as well.  You could be right down the street there by the town clock and you could hear old Alfie Cook singing.  He used to have a piece of ground up Barbican, used to be known as Cooky's Run.  He used to employ one of the lads to collect the chicken eggs every so often.  This lad, instead of going up every day, had it worked out that he used to collect a few and take them down when he felt like it!  Old Cooky couldn't get up there himself very well.

 

Roger: I suppose that land is covered now?

 

Mike:  I think St Winnolls covers that piece of ground now.  St Winnolls belonged to Alf Raddy the milkman, Rowe and Raddy used to deliver milk with a pony and cart.  Before they knocked the wall down up there, there used to be a milking parlour, and the cows used to go on down over the road and over the Wooldown.  The bottom part of Wooldown has gone all wild now.  Used to be all grass all the way down in the lower field.  Those remains there on the Wooldown, that sort of concrete wall, that was the Wren's tower.  That was the observation tower in the war, looking out over the bay.  After the war they took the tower down but left the surrounding wall.  That observation tower was operated by WRNs who were billeted at Bay View Road.

 

Roger: Well now, can you tell me what a lesson was like at Looe school?

 

Mike:  You see I got happy memories about Looe school rather than Liskeard school.  Because my mother sent me to a private school in Morval, at first I was a bit of a stranger to the lads when I moved to Looe school 'cause I wasn't there from Day 1.  I was like the evacuees that were here, not exactly at home.  My childhood was flavoured by the war years.  At school, we had to carry our gasmasks, and in the corner of the playground was all pieces of rubber and stuff that people used to send in for the war effort.  The last half hour of school on a Friday afternoon, you could get yourself involved in waste paper collecting.  So you left half an hour early with an empty bag and collected from the houses down below.  You ended up at the waste paper sevices in Buller Street, right opposite the Buller's Arms.  At school we had quite interesting lessons.  We were short of teachers back in those days, 'cause some had gone to war hadn't they.  I remember that one or two came back and started to teach again. 

 

 

 

Mr Angear, one of the Angears of Looe, no disrespect but he had this bulldog look about him.  Sometimes he would stand with his back towards us - this would take some believing these days with all the regulations - with his flat cap on, smoking his curly pipe, looking at this picture on the wall of a square rigger in full sail.  We had to recite John Masefield's "I must go down to the sea again to the lonely sea and the sky".  This must have been one of the highlights of his week, see.  And every so often a puff of smoke would go up!  We thought it was natural back in them days.  And apparently he used to spend a lot of his evenings down the Jolly Sailor.  Didn't do much teaching there I s'pose.

 

I remember one day when they dropped incendiary bombs on Looe and one went through the roof of the Globe Inn, but I don't think it caught fire.  But these incendiaries was dropped in the station yard.  And I can remember, 'cause my father was a postman, he brought back one of the fins as a memento.  Something else he brought back was shell cases from Hannafore from the naval guns mounted there.  I remember, when the guns fired, running out on our verandah.  You couldn't see the gun but you could see the flash and then a second or two later, you could hear the report.  They used to tow targets out into the bay to fire at.  Course, you can still see where the searchlight was housed.  The Sailing Club still uses one and the other one's still there, that's down opposite the Banjo.  Then on the Banjo, you can see the ring where another gun was mounted.  I mean, 'twas all happening.  It was all fortified.  Barbed wire and if you walk up past the Boscarne towards the new boathouse, you can see the holes in the wall where they knocked the stones out for the soldiers to use their rifles against the enemy, if they were to try and land on the beach.

 

Roger:  Surely they didn't use them did they?  There was nothing to fire at!

 

Mike:    If there had been an invasion, they'd have been there.

 

Roger:  The Germans would have invaded Looe?!!

 

Mike:   There y'are see. 'twas a bit worrying at the time.  Sorry to harp on about this but I can remember when the Belgian boats came in.  Came from Ostend, I remember when they tied up at Little Pier and there was quite a tide running.  Local lads was looking on there amazed.  Some of the families that had escaped and were hid under the nets.  As they came across, the boats was allocated two or three to a town all along the coast, so they could carry on fishing.  There was three or four families and some married local lassies.  In fact, my daughter-in-law, her mother was one of those who came over. 

 

Things that I recall, was a flying fortress that came down.  Most of the crew bailed out over Morval.  She had been damaged in a raid and the pilot ditched in the sea off Seaton.  Up on the cliff, you could see the outline of her for a while.  The pilot was still on board and got rescued, and for years and years you could walk along the beach and pick up pieces of aluminium, and bits of perspex and things that came off this flying fortress.

 

Roger:  Have you got any memories of things that went on thay don't these days?

 

Mike:   Well the kiddies in the playground at school used to have this game called Long Courts.  Typically Cornish.  First ones out used to stand and shout "Last one up of it", so if you were the last one out, you had to stand in the middle and call someone to come across.  If you caught him, then you had two catchers, and so on and so forth.  But the chorus was "Last one up of it", and you could hear it all over Looe.  I think it was probably peculiar to Looe, but how it developed I don't know, but there's a bit of Cornish there of course - "Last one up of it".  That used to go on every playtime. 

 

Now what else?  Oh there used to be a lot of rivalry between East and West Looe.  Rather a serious business.  The boys used to have stone fights across the river at low tide, encouraged by fishermen on both sides.  West Looe was called Dennis Tamblin's Army and they used to have an ambulance, a little soap box on wheels to carry away the casualties - and there was a casualty now and again.  Then my mother, who started a Bed & Breakfast again, used to send me over to West Looe for the meat.  I'd say "Do I have to go?"  "'Course you have to go, we got visitors in got to be fed tonight".  But sometimes, if certain ones would catch me over there, I'd have more than the meat when I got back.  Probably a couple of shiners!! 

 

Oh yeh, we used to play football at Church End, East against West on a Saturday morning.  That was the only time that we came together, even then it was a bit roughtie toughtie.  A real bone of contention and 'tis still talked about today - that playground at Church End where cars are now parked was given to the youngsters of Looe for all time - but that's forgotten now.  Someone came along and thought they could make some money out of it as a carpark!  One of the goals was the Boscarn Hotel before they built the extension, and the other one was up there by the Old Lifeboat House.  The chap who used to be in the Boscarn Hotel - we used to call him Billy Boscarn, with a big corporation out front and gold fob watch.  He used to waddle off to the pub in the mornings and then come back and growl at us kids for kicking balls into his garden.

 

Happy Days!

 

 

 

7)         RUTH GARDNER : glimpses of life in West Looe in 30s and 40s

 

Recorded by Roger Bennett, January 2010

 

Tremallac Hotel, that’s where the flats are now, was a hotel. It caught fire. Where you live, that was a slaughter house up there. Next to you, (Roseventon) where the carpark is now used to be a farmyard.

 

We had a shoe shop ; there were three dairies, two on West Looe Hill and one in

West Looe Square

. And a sweet shop on the hill. I’ve got a photo of my grandmother coming out of the shop which was opposite an ironmonger’s.

 

Nearly every house had an orchard. One of my aunts live up here and she used to give us lots of little green apples; they were called Talland Sweets (on our deeds West Looe Hill was in the parish of Talland.)

 

I remember when the evacuees came here. They came to Union House (Rostallan now). There were families in there. The evacuees educated us, some of the girls. Then there was one coloured boy and we called him Sambo. We were told at school to ask our parents

If they could take any evacuee children in. Some of us said well we didn’t have the room, but lots of them did it. If they couldn’t find a place, they slept in the Congregational church hall. They must’ve been awful frightened.

 

 And there was one old lady lived down Church House who was the Congregational church caretaker. We used to go up the steps when ‘twas dark, knock on the door and run away. One night she nearly caught us and chased us all the way down West Looe Quay. We didn’t go there any more.

 

Down by the market there’s a little shallow gutter, but when we were children we could row a boat up there. At that time there was two entrances to the round market: on the butcher’s side there were groceries, then on the hill side where there’s a window now there was a door and we used to go down there for chips – there wasn’t any fish.

 

We had three or four butchers down there, one where the butcher is now, then another opposite Londis and down

Princes Street

. Londis used to be called Bowden’s. There was a man in there, a lovely man who played the organ in the Congregational Church. For weddings, if you was local he wouldn’t charge you.

 

Mother used to give us three ha’pence when we went to school, and on the way we’d buy donuts at Bowden’s and burn our tongues on the jam! He was lovely Roy was.

 

Then there was the Methodist Church, what is now Dingle’s Folly. We used to be naughty and roll up bits of paper, sit upstairs and drop them down onto the hats below! We had to go to church, and Sundayschool, you know. Always had Sundayschools then.

 

Here’s another thing. Orchard Cottage, where Lilian Austen the piano teacher lived.. In the summer she’d go away for a month. One year she told my mum that she had some friends coming to stay so could she clean it for her. ‘Course, mum was glad of the money.

Mum and aunt went down there, but twadn’t long before they came back. “
“Come and see what we’ve found.”

Anyway, we went down. Under the stairs there was a door. Mother opened the door…..and there was a gutter. Shoes were racked behind it, but water was coming down the gutter from a reservoir up in the field behind. (I went in to have a look; it’s under slate now.)

 

There’s a house down the bottom, called Vine Cottage, I think, but in the old days they used to keep rugs on the floor, and when the tide came in they used to take up the rugs ‘cause they got soaked. Houses were built on sea sand down there. No foundations. In muddy weather you could see the damp rising on the wall.

 

You know Cornish Arms Cottage, used to be a pub. Well there’s a little window the previous owners found when redecorating. Apparently it was through that little window that you could see pirates. Then there’s two more further up, to look out for pirates – that’s what I was told anyway. There are other reasons apparently!)

 

(I had to put this in even though it’s not about West Looe!!)

Talland church is very old isn’t it. We used to go down there as children, a crowd of us and we’d go in the church. No lies, on the altar were St Francis Drake’s bowls, and we used to play with them.. We’d run ‘em up and down the carpet, but we always put them back. Naughty yes, but we always put them back!! Anyway, one day some were stolen and what was left was put in a museum up in Plymouth.

 

 

 

 

8.    From Edwin Smith   A little more of being an evacuee in Looe.

 

This was sent in via email from Edwin.  It makes lovely reading of a childohhod reminiscence of days that hardly any of us remember.  I hope you like it.  if there is anyone else out there with evacuues storys, please let us have them.

 

Its so hard to go back, without any documents or photos of my time in Looe its just how I can remember the times that I had, like catching dabs under the bridge, the minesweepers, being billeted out, I do think that we soon had to learn to able to look after ourselves, I just cannot rememberever being supervised if we/I were out and about in Looe, we just went and did things, beachcombing and climbing rocks and looking for crabs and shrimps in the rock pools, most of time therejust me and another little lad, we would be off to explore, the beaches and the cliffs, we would go

anywhere, here we were 5/6/7yrs old just doing what kids like to do, no fear, getting beach wise.

 

The times we would walk along the foot path on the west cliff on towards Talland Bay

we would come a field and a style to get over with this stream running down and pick the wildwatercress (was still there in 1970) then go on, Talland Bay and on we would go to Polpero, yes walk, little kids just out having fun. Or go to the east beach, big tank traps were to be seen, barbwire rolls of it, but we were kids, soon on the beach, at the far end of the beach there was these big rocks

o climb and climb over to the pool of water that was held in when the tide was out, jumping in and out, we would go back the same way, crawl through the barbwire. What was danger ??? we never knew.

 

I'm using we a lot as there was always another little lad that made us mates, can't

remember a name, There were some older boys and girls 12/13/14 plus, and they were made to look after the veg patch at the side of the house, we did get some fresh veg from there, Then there was the Americans that would come in with food parcels, that was good as we then got some of their candies/sweets, what a treat that was. Then I caught measles, shut away in a darkened room until the systems went.

Then the time we found an old boat keel on the rocks and decided we would take it back, disaster, it was heavy and fell onto my leg cutting it open at the side of the shin and calf muscle, blood all over the place it was very deep, one of the kids ran and got help, getting back I do not remember, all I do know is that the scar is still there, it has grown with me 1/4 inch wide round that side of my leg.

How about the field that was behind this house ! right up there over looking the harbour, the army had dug out little trenches and camoflaged ready for any invasion and stocked up a little larder ready, in case of an invasion , A larder with some tins of what ever and hard biscuits, you know the thing, made of wood and chicken wire, in the corners of these little dug trenches, these were our secret places somewhere to hide and play but also we had something to eat, (He He,) the tins we would take back home. We never did see a soldier or get told off.

 

I now wonder what the residents of Looe thought, these children thrown into their midst, sent to the schools, roaming the streets and played here there and everywhere, (well I did). But I do think we were not vandals or caused any mayhem, that would bring me to Christmas time and I can see it now, us kids, large and small ,all together, we had made these lanterns and with candles in them we sang carols and walked through Looe singing our hearts out, cold night with a clear moon, I still see it now.

I had mentioned an elder brother earlier, well had started work at 14 will I was in Looe, in steel works as I can remember then while at work he had made 2 boats out of odd scraps of steel, how, I do not know, But I would have now been about 7/8 yrs old and he brought the boats on the train down to Looe, must I think have been for my birthday, well I had mentioned the minesweepers, these 2 boats were the exact copies, all in detail, down to life rafts made from cork on the sides, one was called Winny and the other Monty after our leaders in the war, pleased as punch we set off over the rocks on the west beach to get to the water wound up the little clock work engines and put them in he water, 2 boats set off, on and on they went, sadly never to be seen again, ( or have they ) I wonder. I cried and was told that they would go to another country and another little boy would find them. All the work and effort and thought gone. Winny and Monty.

 

I do not know what else I can add but these are the things that have stayed with me, memorys of a time in Looe as an evacuee.

 

I would like to hear if there is anyone that can share those happy days in Looe

 

 

9)  RON HARDS talks to Roger Bennett    October 25^th 2010

 

SADLY RON DIED ON CHRISTMAS DAY 2010.  WE EXTEND OUR GREATEST SYMPATHIES TO HIS FAMILY.

　

I was born over at St Martin’s on the 13^th of April 1932, the oldest son of Bill Hards and Rose Hards who lived there in Pendrim Cottage (Pendrym Manor was down bottom of the field opposite). I had two brothers and three sisters. Father worked for his father-in-law, Harry Bettinson who used to drive the old Red Rover, horse and cart, from Looe to Plymouth every day. Then Farmer Jack, his two brothers who married two sisters, farmed Glebe Farm down by the church. In they days the rent was the rector’s living. Granfer, he owned another farm out Sedditch, top of Seaton. Father used to cycle to and fro every day.

I went to Greatree school on top of the hill going down Millendreath. There was a Victorian memorial outside the school that was removed back in the sixties for road widening. Came over inside the main churchyard gates down St Martin’s, and then 12 years or so ago, we ‘ad ‘n brought back to Nomansland Memorial Hall. Then I went to Liskeard Grammar School. I should have been an educated man, but threw they chances away. All I ever did was farming then. I worked for me granfer since the day I could walk, back in the days of horses and carts. There wadn’t a house from cottage on St Martin’s corner till Hay Lane except Victor Toms’s farmhouse and Bill Garry, the farm labourer’s cottage.The Farmer

I worked for Farmer Toms as a horseman Saturday mornin’s to start with. Old William, his boast was no-one could pick a blackberry from his 220 acres of land. 'Course there wadn't a bramble on that farm apart from a piece of hedge outside the farm gate with bramles on as thick as broomsticks with berries as big as apples.

The first day I worked horses for him, he told me where to go, which field I had to go to, and the time I had to leave. So I went out there. did as I was told, than came into the stable, washed and fed the horses, and said, "I be off home now to have some tea Mr Toms."

"You 'aven't finished work yet," he said.

"What do 'ee mean?"

"Well, where did 'ee put the plough chains when you took 'em off 'smornin?"

I said," I left them out in the field cause I'll be out there agen tomorrow."

So he said, "You better go out and get they plough chains fore you leave work."

So I had to walk over seven fields to the top of the spinney to fetch .'em back. Then I put the chains on the horses.

"Right, I'm off now."

"No you're not ," he said. "You put the chains on the wrong horses. Change 'em round."

I do change them round, and next mornin' he sent me out there agen.

I used to start work on a Monday mornin', be up there at 6 o'clock, milk the cows, come home for breakfast, back up agen, home an hour for dinner, worked till 5 o'clock, come home, go back agen at 8 to feed the animals.

The first week I do that was 7 days for £2-8-0. Following week I'll have Saturday afternoon off, then following week I'd have Sunday mornin' off, and the following week the Sunday afternoon. No overtime.

One day old farmer Toms said, "Can you drive a tractor?"

"No."

Right, Gilbert will spend the afternoon with 'ee and teach 'ee 'ow to drive tractor, 'cause you done more work these last two weeks with 'orses as 'e've done with tractor. I've been and bought a new Davy Brown LTV 978."

I had to go down Cottage Field, down where Barbican pub is. Gilbert Toms sets me up, then, "Oh you don't want me to show you how to do this, you can work it out."

Well, after me ploughing, I goes home and said to father, "I'm some tractor driver now."

So I took him out to the field, when along came Mr Toms.

"What the 'ell do you think you'm doin'? Your chisellers spent more time in the air than they have in the ground."
So I had a rollicking from him, and that was the beginning of my tractor driving.

Mr Leck, the dentist, used to have Old Barbican Farm. Alf Raddy drove herd of cows out onto the Wooldown. Used to have field up to where the Spar shop is.

Alf used to milk his cows up behind where John Grimer lives. Do 'ee remember Pickford the milkman, used to go round with his horse and cart?

I was sitting here other day looking out at the field. There was 3 tractors on the stubble and within four hours 'twas all tilled and done. Now if that had been years ago, wartime say, to start with you wouldn't be allowed to have a tractor in a field of standing corn. You'd start off with a scythe, move round field, gather and bind the corn, the sheaves, and put 'em by the hedge so horses wouldn't stand on 'em. Then you'd come in with a binder (there ain't a lot of people today who would knaw how to fit a binder). spend all day to cut the field, carry the sheaves in, chop 'em, leave 'em stand for a week, then turn 'em.The Sexton

I was sexton at St Martin's for 30 years, until 1998. At the beginning I do start at St Martin's church of a Saturday after dinner. First I clean out the heating apparatus-that's old big boiler down back of church - then take the ashes out and chuck 'em down over the bank. You'd light heater up at 3.30 and get'n going. Helluva thing to get going 'twas. Then you'd go over yard and get the cows in, do this and that and go back to stoke the old fire up. Then go home and have tea, go down at 6.30 and stoke'n right up agen with coke. Then you'd open the church door and listen. If everything was quiet, you'd shut the door and go home quick! But if 'ee was gurgling out air you'd be down there bleeding they pipes till 1 o'clock. Then you'd be down there 8 o'clock in the mornin' for Communion. I had to pump the organ, toll the bell, then get all geared up for the 11 o'clock, and half past 2 Sunday school. Down there agen 5.30 for evening service. Went back home at 8.

Ron Hards.

 

 

10)  JOHN GRIMER

talks to Roger Bennett: 18/1/2011

John Grimer lives on what was called Higher Windmill Field, Wooldown. He taught for 30 years at Looe Secondary Modern/Comprehensive/Community School.

The Windmill is mentioned in Bond's History of Looe as being very ancient; it was a corn-grinding mill. There were about 14 of them in Cornwall; some are intact – the outer shell, but here there is just the bit of a wall left, round the back of the house, which is covered in ivy now. It's also mentioned in Douch's book, 'Cornish Windmills.' This field, before it was built on was called Higher Windmill Field, as opposed to Lower Windmill Field further down.

A blacksmith, Tom Cook, father of Biddy Cook, the teacher, had a premises at Churchend.

I came to Looe first of all in . After I was demobbed, my wife bought a tiny little cottage at the foot of North Road, West Looe, called Red Tap. My wife called it that because the only plumbing it had was a tap outside. I built a tiny slither of bathroom; I learnt to build there. While I was in West Looe, from1952, I remember going onto the quay to shake out the pilchards. They used to come back with a huge catch of pilchards - a thousand stone – and if you went down there to help, they'd always give you a bucket of fish. Having practically no money, that was very welcome,

I worked in the canning factory in the holidays Robert Piggott was boss and a chap called Curtis was also involved. But they had to close down because of competition from South African pilchards. I used to get a shilling an hour, which was good in those days. That's more than a pound an hour now. I worked for a chap called Spry. We had a guillotine, and we had bucketfuls if pilchards come round to us, and we had to cut their tails off, cut their heads off, whip their guts out and pack them in these oval tins. Then they were put into a machine where they were sterilised and then they were put into a plant to have lids put on them. All the offal went into the river at the far end of the millpool.

I used to catch bass there. I'd go there early in the morning on the spring tide, and the bass would come right up. There were piles of fish-heads there so you didn't have to bring bait; you just found a head or a bit of tail and threw your line in and catch bass. I got there once at 4 o'clock in the morning. I was teaching so had to get back in time for school. I had the fright of my life: I suddenly saw a huge figure with its arms outstretched shining in the phosphorescent light and rotting fish-heads. I had been brought up as a Catholic, which I rejected at the age of 17, and suddenly I thought, My God, it's the angel of the Lord! Then I looked again and realised it was a heron with its wings outspread!!.

When we were in West Looe I was friendly with Alfie Martin and his wife, Alma. In the First World War, she worked in Woolwich Arsenal. She was a very intelligent lady with practically no education except what she had picked up. She spent her life scrubbing up other people's floors and charring for them. I used to do the Times crossword in those days when I had a few more marbles up there, and if I couldn't finish it, I'd pass it to her and she'd finish it.

Eric Soady was a builder in West Looe. He did up all those lovely cottages at the bottom of West Looe Hill. He also put the beams in places like the Salutation and the Fisherman's Arms, which he got from some old hulks on the Tamar. He also put them in the Jolly Sailor. This was back in the 20s and 30s.

Taken from a recording made between John Grimer and Roger Bennett.

 

 

 

11)                               BETTY HIGGINS talks to Roger Bennett

January 2010

I was born in 1919, one of five children, though one died. I went to the old school at Beech Terrace, and the first memories I have of the school are the sand trays we played with, the rocking horse, and a swing.

The games I used to play when I was young were skipping, and balls. Balls was a great thing 'cause you could play so many things with it They were all cheap things: the skipping ropes usually came from the fishing boats, brought back by your dad if he was a fisherman. At Easter we always had a Food Friday ball, and what we liked best, for the girls anyway was a hard rubber ball that bounced high. Then we used to play hopscotch – another cheap game. Of course we played a lot on the beach, our playground., and the Square at West Looe. There was no traffic then (1920s). All I can remember coning into West Looe was the buses that used to take the men to the dockyard in Plymouth. They used to leave Looe very early, about 5.30, so the Square was empty for us to play on.

The beaches: what can I say about Hannafore? They all had names. There was Pennyland, there was Boys' Beach, there was Girls' Beach, and there was Little Sandies and Big Sandies. We used to go out to the Sandies 'cause there were places for us to bathe. Sometimes we'd be out there nearly all day, doing some shrimping and collecting shells.

When I got older, I remember the best day of the year was the Regatta day, the first Monday in August. There was racing on the beach and on the river, depending on the tide. If the tide was out in the morning there was sport on the beach, and the regatta in the afternoon. There was mans' pair of paddles, ladies' pair of paddles, and the four ones, and there was diving for plates in the harbour, walking on the slippery pole, a gig and punt chase when each boat had two men dressed up and they'd throw flour at each other. There was a lady from Plymouth called Miss Rowe who always won the Ladies' pair of Paddles. We got a bit fed up with it really, she always won. She was a great big woman. But at last there was a Looe woman who did beat her – I don't know if it was June Stevens or May Gregory (does anyone know?). There was even water polo one time which we used to watch from the pier. On the beach I can even remember a pony race. There was some people called Lean who owned the Rabbitries where they used top breed chinchilla rabbits and sell scarves, gloves and everything. The boy, Bobby, had a pony. I believe they had quite a lot of influence in Looe so they had this pony race. Only two entered, and one came in from Pelynt and his pony was a bit tired by the time he'd come in. I don't think they had another pony race! Another time we had some motorcycle racing and that was because a motorcycle club from Yeovil used to come every year and camp somewhere up behind the downs. 'Twas a grand day, and the only day of the year my mother didn't cook dinner, 'cause she left food on the table and anyone who went in just helped theirself.

When I was 14, (1933), I left school and went to work in D5/- a week which worked out at a penny an hour. For that we had to carry buckets of water to the front, scrub the front, clean the windows outside, and you know they had these small windows, so we had to brush all the window frames before cleaning the glass. And this was before we'd even started inside. It was a lovely shop to start with but now of course it's just gone downhill. I don't know what's happened to it now. I stayed there for six years until war broke out. Now then, in my second year I had 7/6, the third year I had 10/-, the fifth year I had 12/6, and in the sixth year I went up to £1. That was when war broke out and he got rid of us all, except one who was the youngest and she was earning only 5/- a week. There were four or five of us working there and the strangest thing was all we had was a drawer in a tiny square office, and there was wooden cups in there and a clip at the back for the notes. That's all we had, so they must have trusted us. If you sold a small thing, you wrote it down on a page, but of course most of it was big stuff, so you gave them a proper receipt. We used to pack up parcels to send off. You could send 15 lbs in weight for1/-. The oldest person who worked there was a girl in her twenties, so she always earned more than we did. She used to say to me, "Bet, run over to the Post Office and post this letter." This was to her young man. Catch the 12 o'clock post, he lived in Plymouth, and it was delivered in the afternoon. Dowling and Bray sold mostly antiques. They used to sell a lot of Indian cloths, curtains, bedspreads and things like that, china, glass. Then all of a sudden, they decided to open up the downstairs as well as the upstairs, right out to the quay, and there we sold modern pottery, wrought iron and ships' teak furniture like barrel chairs and wheeled tables. Upstairs all we had was a tiny room, the toilet and where we used to hang our coats. Then at the end of the showroom upstairs there was a packing room where we made our tea – on a primus stove. It used to scare me to death 'cause you had to light it and it all flared up. The first thing we had for heating was these old valor stoves which we used to carry round to where we were working.

'Twas a cold shop with a stone floor. Mrs Coode was the Dowling partner. She was married to a solicitor in Liskeard and they lived in that lovely old house in Moorswater. It had like church windows and lovely grounds with a pond at the bottom. Then she came into Polrean at Sandplace. That belonged to Kitson's estate and she rented it. We used to go up there sometimes on the train to help her with her garden. George Bray was the other partner.

Looe back then was lovely 'cause you knew everybody by name, and nickname. Some of the nicknames are so funny like Snaker Dann, and Boomer Toms. My grandfather was Dickie Mouse Marshall. Mother was one of 13 children so I had lots of relations. At one time I had 59 first cousins! That's the ones we knew of. But, if I went down Looe now, out of every 20 people I saw, I expect I'd only know 1 of them. And another is that the harbour looked lovely with the old fishing boats. These new ones are so horrible, they've got all those things at the back; they never look safe to me.

During the war Marines were billetted out the Nailzee so that each of them was on duty so many hours a day. Once four of us girls met up with four marines and they wanted to go out onto the island..You could go out there then; there were no restrictions at all. So I got my father, who by that time had had a boat made at Curtis's boatyard, an 18 foot pulling boat that took 8 passengers. So we took these four marines out to the island. When you went courting then you went with men with tin hats, a haversack and a rifle. So two of us borrowed the tin hats and rifles and had our photo taken

which has appeared in the Cornish Times. I'm the one with hat slipping off. I was a bit better looking then! (I have a copy)!

Did you know that there were 5 butchers' shops in East Looe. Over to West Looe there was two Toms's, Kellaway's, Hancock's and Tamblin's. In West Looe, there was two big bakers: one was Bowden's and one was Richardson's. (in Church Street next door to Betty.) Up the back they had a bakehouse and above the shop they had a cafe which was for the steamers that came into Looe. People used to take their dinners to the bakehouse to cook and that's where under-roast came in, 'cause they put the meat underneath with the potatoes on top. It cost 1 penny. And at Christmas if you were lucky enough to have a turkey they'd do it for sixpence. Mother used to have hers done for nothing because she used to go up and help them baste them all. (There is an oven used for that purpose extant in a shop in Buller Street)

After my father had come out of the navy in the early 30s, first of all he went with his father-in-law in a small fishing boat called the Green Dragon, the he went with the Gracie which was the only round-sterned fishing boat in Looe, and then he went with the Talisman. None of them were very lucky; the lucky boats were Our Daddy, Our Boys, and Our Girls. Then father bought a boat made at Curtis's boatyard for £1 per foot. So his 18 foot boat cost him £18 and £1 for the paddles. He called it Sailorboy. He used to do lots of jobs to help with the money 'cause the fishing was very poor. He used to be a bad-weather watchman for the coastguards. So when he finished fishing at about 60, he went ferrying. Sometime he'd be down Pennyland for about three hours and come with 1/-.

The floods always came to Church Street 'cause we were at the bottom of two or three hills and if it rained hard at high tide we was always flooded. Mother had a board which she always put out, but once or twice we were caught. My sister and I would be walking around in our knickers and vest trying to rescue things, paddling in water up to our knees. Then when I was working, someone would carry me out to a dry spot, then if there was water on the road to the bridge, somebody would be there with a handcart, so I'd jump on it and have a ride over.

Another early memory is of when the lamp lighter came round. I used to love to see him with his pole. We had a light just opposite our house and he'd come and pull the chain down to open the little window. He had a lit taper.

And another. I used to love to go over and watch an old man called Mr. Henwood who had a cobbler's shop. He always seemed to have little nails in his mouth! This was where the fire station is now, round the back. We called that Island House.

Another thing we used to have to do of a Saturday morning: mother used to give us a little short knife and we'd go out and have to clean the cobbles. After we'd done ours, we'd have to go up to clean the cobbles up Granfer's place.

Oh, I must tell you this little bit: Bonfire Night. We used to go up on the Downs. The boys would drag up all the stuff. We all had a jam jar with a candle stuck in the bottom, or if you was lucky and your mo

ther was artistic she'd clean out a turnip, cut faces in it, and put a candle inside. Now, we'd get up on the downs and the fire would be lit. The fireworks weren't very exciting, bu they were to us: Roman candles, Catherine wheels, sparklers, jumpers – the boys used to throw them at us. After the fire was lit, they'd light all the furze bushes all around, and we couldn't get down until the fire had died out. I never remember anyone getting hurt.

 

12)   ALAN DINGLE talks to Mark Camp

April 2008

I was born in Looe , 1927, went to the Primary school up Beech Terrace when I was 5. Then after a few years I went to Liskeard Grammar School. We had to catch the train for Liskeard every day. I was very keen on football, and played for the school. I even played for Looe school team before that. I didn't want to go up there really, I hated every minute; I only wanted to go fishing. As soon as I left school the first thing I done was to go on one of the small luggers with my uncle. All I ever thought about at school was fishing cause it ran in the family; it's all I knew and all I ever wanted to do. For a couple of years I worked out in the Channel catching dogfish. Twas hard work. We had to skin 'em all our self. They got people to come down every evening to do the cleaning.

But then me mother and father had been through so many rough times. they wanted me, against my will, to learn a trade, so I went as a carpenter for a while. I had a few years at that and couldn't stick it any longer, so I went back to the fishing again – with my father in the first old Lady Betty that he had. Then he had the new Lady Betty boat and carried on from there. Betty was my mother. That would be in the early 50s, pilchard fishing. Back in those days we had seasons. In the summer fatner worked for the tourist trade. I used to fish down Newlyn half the summer, and sleep on the boat. Twas hard in those days, no electronics or nothing. All we had was a compass and a watch. Even when I stated on the Sunny Boy when I left school, we didn't even have a wheelhouse, so when you had to go out in the Channel for hours, standing in the cold and rain all the time.....

The luggers I went on were twin engine, all hand started. There was the skipper, the engineer, and three others. You needed four men on the nets. Hard work but enjoyable. Sometimes out there, there would be boats ferom Looe, Polperro, Mevagissey, Newlyn, Falmouth, Plymouth: there would be hundreds of boats. Almost as far as the eye could see, from Fowey to Rame Head, there'd be a mass of lights of pilchard boats and they would fish night after night, week after week in these shoals of fish. Then when the Scottish boats came down here with all the trawling, they scattered the shoals – in the early 50s. Well then, during the 50s, the pilchards disappeared and lucky enough, the shark fishing started. That was a saviour for Looe. I started myself in the mid-50s. Then my father took bad, and I bought the Lady Betty off him and had that boat for 30 years. I had a Polperro boat, and a Newlyn one after that.

And the prices!! The same as father had the first Lady Betty built, my mother bought a cottage up West Looe Hill. He said: I've got some news for you, I've ordered a new boat. She said: I've got some news for you, I've just bought a new cottage. The new boat was £1500 with two engines and all the gear, and the cottage was £1000.. When I bought Lady Betty II, off father, I had to borrow £1600. Well for £1600 back then I could have bought two cottages.

I used to play the piano accordion years ago. I remember playing it on the sea front for dancing on VE Day. We formed a dance band when I was 17. Used to play in the Cabin Cafe every Saturday night. That was during the war, and I remember when the island was bombed. We was crossing the bridge when the bomb went off. We had to lie down cause of the blast coming up the river It blowed windows out in East Looe.

As you know, the shops from the bridge to the sea front was all family businesses, both sides of the main street. Nowadays you can't buy wallpaper or wood, all that's gone.

With the trawlers, everybody's gone in for speed and power. Some of these boats have got 200-300 horsepower engines. When I started, we had a 16 hp and an 8hp. We'd do about 7knots so, for example it would take about an hour and half to get to the Eddystone whereas now they can get there in 50 minutes.

13)  These memoirs written by Liz Byfield of her father's memories of his childhood and their association with Looe are well worth reading.

Memoirs of Peter Harry Keat Snell – 08.08.1925 – 08.11.1991

Written 1990

I have been encouraged to record some memories of my early life by a cousin, Bryan Spear of Windlesham, Surrey, who has researched the Keat family in some detail.

Bryan is a grandson of Richard Edwin Keat (Ned) a brother of my grandfather Edward Harry Keat; both of us therefore are grandsons of John Keat who married Mary Kellow of St Kew in 1853, which resulted in 15 children being born between 1854 and 1876. A number died at a very early age but there are firm records of John. Robert, William, Samuel and Richard Edwin (Ned), Edward Harry (my grandfather), Joseph and Mary. The latter somewhat ostracised by the family as she bore two illegitimate children, Eunice and Lillie. My mother described her as being ‘shut off’ living on the edge of the moors in North Cornwall. My contact was with Eunice who came to live at Polperro at the beginning of the 2^nd World War after being ‘bombed out’ in the Plymouth Blitz. Eunice always seemed to be in poor straits as I recall, my mother often gave her second hand clothing. One of Eunice’s children was Sheila, my own age, an attractive girl with red hair who attended Liskeard Grammar School.

My notes are therefore based on the knowledge of my mother’s family the Keats and also of my father’s, which are limited for reasons explained later.

Little is know of my father’s family background. He was the eldest of three children born to Fanny Snell of East Looe who never married; the other two children were Edith and Tom. The former married George Pengelly a fisherman; they had two children, Eddie and Beryl. The father George died of T.B., which in those days was an incurable disease, and Eddie died likewise at an early age. Tom served for many years in the Royal navy and was married to Lizzie, a Scotswoman from Arbroath, involved I believe as a worker in the herring industry. In those days the fishing labour force moved around the coastal ports, some marrying and settling a long way from their home port.

Tom and Lizzie had a daughter, also Elizabeth who never married. Fanny Snell’s father was Robert Snell a carpenter and his father was I believe a Mace Bearer to the old East Looe Borough Corporation, probably in the early 1800s.

After leaving the local Board School, my father Ernest Snell became a Post office messenger. I understand he could have progressed in the Postal Service but the pay was low and he needed as much income as possible in order to help support his mother. Therefore he became employed by Ned Middleton a fish merchant. Before that time he suffered from typhoid fever because of the poor working conditions in the area of his home in the ‘back streets’ as they were called of East Looe. He was sent to recover on a farm at St Martins by Looe where he learned to look after horses and to plough, also I believe at that time he became a bell ringer at St Martins Church.

It is interesting that in the area of his home many of the small fisherman’s cottages in East Looe, condemned for demolition at one stage before the 2^nd World War, are now holiday homes and restaurants catering for the tourist trade.

It was a hard life being employed in the fish packing trade, often being called out at night to deal with the lucrative pilchard and herring catches, much of which was salted and packed into barrels for the Italian market. There were numerous salt pits in the stores along East Looe quay, and at West Looe near St Nicholas church (now a shopping parade); there was also a large sardine factory. The fishing industry at East Looe was served by a rail extension from Looe station which crossed the east end of Looe bridge, thence to the main fish market near the Guildhall and on to the granite quay and the terminal near the Albatross store area, all closed many years ago. The Albatross now being an obstacle golf course!

The warehouse in the same area once stored grain, cement and coal, being supplied by coastal shipping. One of my boyhood friends Keith Pearn, had access to the stores as his father was the owner and we used to indulge in hide and seek amongst the large sacks. The area also included streets known as ‘the lodgings’ and ‘Dark Lane’. A business run by the Lean family operated a ‘rabbitrees’ open to tourists in the summer to view various species of rabbits.

To return to my father, in the 1^st World War he joined the County Regiment the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry, subsequently transferring to the Machine Gun Corps serving in France and Belgium at Ypres and Paschendale. It might be interesting one day to trace his service record at the military museum at Grantham. He used to recall his training time in the area when on a hot summer day he was part of a group on a route march from Grantham to Newark carrying full pack, whilst the officer in charge rode a white horse telling the marchers they were a lazy lot!

His experience in the ghastly trench warfare remained with him for many years as my mother used to tell me of his recurring nightmares in the 1920s and even later. Shortly after his return from the war he left the employ of Middleton’s Fish Merchants to become caretaker of the Liberal Club, now the site of Barclays Bank in Fore Street. He was very active politically on behalf of the local Liberal M.P. Isaac Foot, father of Michael Foot. In those days Liberalism was looked on as much to the left as Communism is in these days, when compared with the Conservatives. Although my father was always somewhat left wing and an active member of his trade union the National Amalgamated Union of Life Assurance Workers, I do not think he would have recognised the ideals of the 1990 TUC style of representation.

In 1925 my father became an agent of the Pearl Assurance Company whom he served for the next 27 years. In 1926 when I was 1 year old, he purchased No. 1 Rockdene, Barbican Hill by means of a loan through the local solicitors Peter and Ganniford. Mr Peter told my father that his sister had some money to invest and therefore the capital was advanced to my father which he paid off in due time.

His new job with Pear Assurance was to expand their business in the area. In this time it seems he was very successful as he was often ‘top of the division and district’ and he was seldom without his ‘proposal scale’ booklet in his pocket, even canvassing prospective policyholders when on holiday, it seems his slogan was ‘if it moves, insure it’! He also served as a councillor on Looe Urban District Council in later life.

At the same time my mother offered holiday accommodation at Rockdene which provided anything from full board, breakfast, lunch, afternoon tea and dinner to room only with ‘service as required’, often for a very few pounds, for which I remember my mother rising at 6 o’clock or so, hand brushing the stairs – no vacuum cleaner – preparing tea and supplying hot water to the bedrooms before breakfast.

My mother was born in Bude (Stratton) North Cornwall and as a girl she moved home a number of times with her father Edward Harry Keat because of his ‘postings’ as a Police Constable. He was born at St Kew and also lived at Wainhouse Corner and Cargreen where May, one of my mother’s sisters was born. My mother was probably 7 or 8 years old when my grandfather was transferred to Looe, where he was stationed for some 12 years and lived at the Police Station on West Looe Hill.

Before proceeding further I realise I have not mentioned very much about the break up of my grandfather’s family following his wife’s (Elizabeth Wilson) death in childbirth at Looe in 1905. It seems the baby boy Harry was taken by a brother, Samuel Keat and brought up in Delabole, subsequently living with his son Alfred until his death. A couple of years after her mother’s death, my mother Minnie was placed with a local middle class family by the name of Loam at their home Trevanion, Hannafore Road, West Looe, which in later years became a hotel. I gather life was very bad indeed, my mother being continually hungry amongst other things. My father delivered fish to the establishment and as a result of his growing friendship with my mother, they subsequently married by special licence at St Martins Church in 1917 during my father’s army leave from France. For a time my mother also worked in Middleton’s fish restaurant before moving to the Liberal Club.

The other member of the family seriously affected by my grandmother’s death was Lily; a younger sister of my mother’s born in Stratton who was sent off to work for a household in Bayswater, London before the 1^st World War. By all accounts she found herself employed as a maid in a house of ill repute, but after a short period thanks to the good offices of the butler, she found better employment in the area. With the onset of the bombing by Zeppelins in the 1^st World War she returned to Cornwall for a few years, going back to London again after the war and eventual employment by the Ziffo family in Chiswick where she remained for many years. This was a typical middle class household in the ‘between the wars’ years, still retaining the remnants of a previous Edwardian period. I believe Stephen Ziffo was of Greek origin engaged in the coffee business; he always played the piano or organ at the house in Chiswick for his wife before dinner each evening. Mrs Ziffo was a keen bridge player and held many afternoon tea parties.

My first impression of my mother’s father was someone of large stature and presence with a strong dominating character to match. His immediate family consisted of five daughters and two sons – Ivy, Minnie George (my mother), Lily Maud Bray, Olive May, Edna Millicent, Rupert and Harry. My grandfather married Elizabeth Ann Wilson who died giving birth to Harry in 1905. She was the daughter of Susan Bray who married William Wilson. The Bray side of the family descended from William Bray a tailor born in Devonshire in 1760. The Bray, Wilson and Short families have been researched by a cousin of mine in the U.S.A., May Wilson of East Bangor, Pen Argyle, who believes the Wilsons were related to President Woodrow Wilson.

My grandfather’s second marriage was to a widow called Minnie Evans whom I always looked upon for all practical purposes as my grandmother.

The youngest son Harry was somewhat underdeveloped physically and worked in slate quarries in Delabole where he died at the age of 53 years. Likewise my aunt May was also very small but she lived until 1971 aged 72 years. For many years she was housekeeper to a Mrs Sarah residing in a very fine house at Marazion overlooking Mounts Bay. She kept a parakeet and Mrs Sarah although very elderly was always heavily made up. I often wondered about her background – retired chorus showgirl? She often enjoyed a whisky and soda every evening I recall!

Ivy, the eldest daughter died at Camborne in her thirties. Prior to that period, my grandfather being a policeman served at a number of stations in East Cornwall, the longest being at East Looe for 12 years, where he was also a bellringer at St Martins Church. On his retirement, completed by a brief service with the police at Redruth, following Looe, he took a position as manager of Walter Hicks Co. a wine and spirit retail shop in Trelowarren Street, Camborne where I was born in 1925. While stationed in Looe he patrolled as far as Millendreath and once was beaten up by locals by mistake instead of P.C. Bone!

It would be appropriate here to refer to my grandfather’s early life in North Cornwall before recording other recollections. By all accounts his father John Keat was of a somewhat rough, possibly cruel nature. His union with Mary Kellow produced 15 children between 1854 and 1876, a number of whom died at childbirth or soon afterwards. Mary Kellow is featured on a postcard at the turn of the century at Pengelly, Delabole carrying two pitchers of water. It must be remembered that villages and even some towns had no mains water or sewage disposal until well into the 20^th century. My own recollection of Delabole and Polperro even in the 1930s bear this out (never visit Polperro when the tide is out because of the smell in the harbour!).

Returning to my own early recollection of my grandfather, these consisted of visits to him and my step-grandmother at their small terraced house in Vivian Street in Camborne at Christmases to Pendarvin House on the outskirts of Camborne where he was a steward / housekeeper for a few years. At my mother’s insistence we always spent Christmas with him, I cannot recall a Christmas at Looe, even one year with a broken leg sustained at school I was taken in a wheelchair on the train. The journey itself was always an adventure for a small boy in those days, steam, viaducts and tunnels and then at St Austell or Truro looking out for a family friend Will Reynolds who was station master, just to say hello, but an event nevertheless.

My grandfather always met us at the station with a taxi to take us to his home, but I remember on one occasion we walked. My grandmother remonstrated with him but he said ‘ it was a fine day and little baggage’. She knew however he had used the taxi money to treat himself to a drink at the nearby Waggoner’s Arms, known as ‘the Kiddley’. Small events remain so vivid in the memory!

The affection which I have for Camborne, which in all honesty is an unattractive town, is probably due to my having being born in the flat above Walter Hicks Wine and Spirit shop in Trelowarren Street, which my grandfather managed at the time. Also I spent many school holidays there with my grandparents and at Porth near Newquay in a converted bus or caravan. Trips to Carbis Bay and St Ives and Falmouth and other resorts were often undertaken but now in retrospect I realise there must have put a strain on the finances at the time.

To return to Pendarvin House, this was a mansion of some 60 rooms set in many acres stretching to the North Cliffs. When we visited my grandfather at Christmas time we slept in four poster beds with blazing log fires in the bedrooms. The kitchen was enormous, a long main table, the walls hung with pans and cauldrons of all shapes and sizes. On of the gardeners or handymen, Sam by name, used to have his midday snack in the kitchen, usually a pasty of one foot in length which he used to hold in both hands to eat.

My grandfather had a dog at that time called Bongo and would throw his cap for him to retrieve in the kitchen whilst eating his pasty, which gives an idea of the size of the room. There was a large billiards room which my father and Uncle Donald enjoyed using and I was allowed into the family nursery where I remember riding on a very large rocking horse. I would explain that the Pendarvin family had gone into decline; the last member was Jimmy Pendarvin who was forced to live in Switzerland because of suffering from T.B. He was in his time the Deputy Lieutenant of Cornwall and a racehorse owner and it was during his time in Switzerland that my grandfather was the housekeeper / steward at the house. One duty my grandfather performed each day was the closing and shuttering of all the windows. Occasionally I accompanied him on these evening rounds and he used to tease me by hiding in rooms which then left me terrified in long empty corridors, not knowing which way to turn until he re-appeared!

There was a lake near the house with some swans and a short walking distance away a pre-historic combination of gigantic stones, Stonehenge-like, which was known locally as the Devil’s Frying Pan.

Vivian Street in Camborne was a very small terraced establishment and I remember sleeping on a feather mattress. There was a small conservatory attached to the back of the dining / living room. As usual in those days the front drawing / parlour room was reserved for special occasions. Apart form the usual plants in the conservatory my grandfather also used to place a dish of sliced cucumber soaked in vinegar on a Saturday evening ready for the Sunday roast beef lunch. Vivian Street to me was the centre of Camborne, just a few yards from the main street and variety of shops all brightly lit at Christmas time, including my Uncle Donald’s fish and chip restaurant – Moncini’s. Donald Moncini was married to Edna, the younger sister of my mother’s, his father Antonio was credited with introducing ice cream to Cornwall, the ice cream itself being awarded a Diploma at Olympia in London. Their family had various shops in Camborne as well as the fish and chip restaurant. In the summer they had a fleet of ice cream tricycles plying their trade for miles around. In Vivian Street there was a blacksmith’s shop which I used to visit to watch horses being shod and well remember the peculiar acrid smell.

Nearby was an old lady Mrs Frances of whom some said had the second sight or mystic powers. She certainly brewed strange wines and beers imparting a remedy for most ills. My grandfather bought a puppy from her which he gave to me as a Christmas present, Nobby; he became more of a pet of my father’s over the years at Looe, but more of his exploits later.

Large families of the working class in the 19^th century as in previous periods found life to be extremely difficult and often resorted to fostering children with members of the immediate family when the occasion arose, thus I believe my grandfather was raised by an aunt in St Teath or St Minver in North Cornwall. After working for a short time in the slate quarry at Delabole, my grandfather decided to leave home and join the army. Being underage he had to run away with his elder brother Ned and together they joined the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry at Bodmin barracks in December 1881, their army numbers being consecutive. His aunt tried to prevent this and drove in a pony and trap across Bodmin Moor in a blizzard but arrived tool late as my grandfather and his brother had already enlisted and taken the Queen’s shilling.

He served seven years in the army from 1881 to 1888 including three years in Egypt. Whilst in Egypt he was one of a 30 man detachment from the DCLI dispatched on a Camel Corps expedition to relieve General Gordon at Khartoum. He was awarded the Egyptian Medal and Clasp and Khedives Bronze Star. Unfortunately during his army service he restored to gambling and this resulted in his being reduced to the ranks to Corporal and then subsequently promoted but then demoted again! However he left the army with a ‘very good’ character description. According to my mother he always attributed his misdemeanours to drinking too much rum, so much so that in later life he would never eat cake or Christmas pudding if rum had been added during the preparation!