Open Writing

As we approached the end of the last year at school, very little was done to find out what we wanted to do when we left full-time education. There was no vocational guidance, careers or parents’ evenings. Choice of job or career was mainly left to the individual.

The nearest we got to some help was an afternoon visit to Taylor's Foundry in Commercial Road, which is still there over fifty years later. As we were being shown around, I recognised someone who was in the same Boys' Brigade Company as myself. He was Jack Jermain , an outgoing ginger-haired lad about two years older than me. He was serving his time to be a pattern maker. After realising we knew each other, our guide asked Jack to tell us what it was like working at Taylor’s. In true radical style, he did. It was not complimentary.

Going around Taylor's Foundry was a good experience, but it worked in a negative way. After being exposed to the noise, heat, dirt, and seeing the dangerous working conditions, it convinced most of us that we did not want to work in such an environment. At the end of the visit and observing our lack of enthusiasm, our guide said, "It's much worse down the pit."

Although this was where my father and two grandfathers had worked, I already knew that I had no intention of following in their footsteps. That pleased the family. They encouraged me to look for a job with some security, for example, the police, civil service or local authority.

In 1950, very little attention was given to whether a person liked or enjoyed doing a particular job. If the average miner had been asked if he enjoyed his job, he would have laughed at the question. To most people, the philosophy of the nineteen thirties still applied: "If you want your family to eat, get yourself a job, whether you like it or not!"

Thinking of my family's advice and looking for some security, I applied for a job with the Post Office. I got a reply saying I would have to start as a Telegraph Boy. (This was a young lad on a bike who delivered urgent messages), but there were no vacancies at the time anyway.

I also applied for an apprenticeship in the transport department of the local authority. This had some interesting consequences. They invited me for interview on the same Saturday morning as the school's semi-final football match in which Stanhope Road School was involved. I told Jack Shipley. All he said was, "Leave it with me."

I believe he told the headmaster who phoned a Mr Crawford, the town's Transport Manager. The result was that the interview was re-arranged for the following week but I still didn't get the job.

In 1950 there was a minimum height qualification of 5'10" for policemen. As I was over that height at fourteen, my mother thought that was as good a reason as ever to choose the police as a career. It did not attract me but she took some convincing.

As the end of the school year approached, we did have a visit from a Youth Employment Officer. He spent about five minutes with me and asked, "What do you intend doing when you leave school?" I felt like saying that I thought it was his job to advise me, but I controlled my instinct.

Failing to get a positive answer he went on, "What subjects do you enjoy?"

That was a much easier question and I replied, "Football and cricket."

Looking disappointed he went on. "What others?"

I thought for a moment and said, "Engineering drawing." He made a note of this and recommended that I apply to train as a draughtsman. That was the end of the interview. There was no attempt to suggest where I might find such a job or how to write a letter of application.

Fortunately, we had touched on writing letters of application at school and I got more specific help from my cousin Ethel Chapman, who was a primary school teacher. She constructed a suggested letter for me and it was sent to selected engineering firms in the area. I got a quick reply from Reyrolles, a firm of switch-gear manufacturers at Hebburn.

They explained that they recruited Junior Draughtsmen from the company's engineering apprentices and suggested that I apply for a position of office messenger in their drawing office. When I was sixteen years of age, I could be considered for an engineering apprenticeship.

I took their advice and in March 1950, I proudly took a day off school to go for an interview at Reyrolles. The interview was not too demanding. The panel of two men and a woman seemed more concerned with my appearance and confidence than my academic ability or practical potential.

There was a tense moment when they asked about my father's occupation — a favourite question at interviews. I told them the truth and they seemed unconcerned. Youngsters coming from separated parents in 1950 were rare and sometimes discriminated against. I am glad to say that my interview at Reyrolles that day was not such an occasion.

Unknown to me at the time, the chairman of the interview panel was Wilf Pollard, the company's employment officer and also a well-known pre-war South Shields cricketer. He noted that I played cricket and asked during the interview if I would join Reyrolles Cricket Club if my interview were successful. Although it felt like blackmail, naturally I said, "Yes".

A few days later I got a letter telling me my interview was successful and instructing me to start at Reyrolles the Tuesday after Easter as a messenger in the drawing office.

I watched my mother's face as she read the letter. At first she said, "You are alright now, you have a career for life at Reyrolles." This was followed by, "but look at the low wage! Twenty-three shillings a week (£1.15p), it's scandalous!"

Twenty years after I left, Stanhope Road Secondary School closed its doors to any further pupils. In 1974, the building was opened again as an Adult Education and Community Centre. Twenty-nine years later it closed again. This time it was for Health and Safety reasons, when the council refused the £1.3 million required to update the building. The 107-year-old school was finally demolished during the summer of 2003.

Unfortunately, there was little in the Gazette to acknowledge the passing of the century-old building. Perhaps the editor underestimated the nostalgia associated with Stanhope Road School. This was partly rectified when Janis Blower reproduced several old class photographs in her Catherine Cookson column. Like many other people I recognised many classmates from fifty yeas ago.

Without carrying out any empirical research, out of my class of forty pupils at Stanhope School from 1946 and 1950, I am aware of only one who went on to get a degree. He was Brian Graham. After leaving school, Brian served an engineering apprenticeship with Clark Chapman’s at Gateshead.

We started evening classes in the same class, but there the similarity stopped. While I struggled with my engineering studies, he satisfactorily completed a Higher National Certificate by the age of twenty-two. Brian then went on to clinch both a mechanical and an electrical engineering degree at Durham University. After experience with the Atomic Energy Commission, and other major companies, forty years later he retired as a Chief Engineer of an internationally known pharmaceutical corporation. Not bad for a lad from Stanhope who, like me, failed both the 11 and 13 plus examinations while at school.

As expected, many of my classmates went on to serve craft apprenticeships with various industrial organisations. Some later went to sea. Few, if any, worked in the coal mines.

Jimmy Hayden joined the police force and rose to the rank of Inspector. Andy Kinelato finished up as a Contracts Engineer at Reyrolles, and Derek Emms ran several newspaper shops in the town. Other former pupils worked on the town's buses and in local garages.

Regretfully, a number are no longer with us. An examination of the local telephone directory however, confirms many still live in the town. They may have had very successful careers of which I am unaware.

Greenwell in 1930 stated that “South Shields makes no claim upon the attention of the average student of the history of education.” Seventy years later, this would be difficult to disagree with, as only the former Ocean Road School has had its early history examined by Fryer (1971). More recently, Kirkup (1997) and Shiells (1999) have subscribed to the education debate by a mixture of personal memories and facts and figures.

Will this chapter perhaps encourage others to contribute to the neglected history of Stanhope Road School? I hope so.