Open Writing

The A.T.S. had a pleasant location overlooking the firm's sports field and consisted of a large workshop and a smaller machine shop. In charge was a Mr Kirkup, a tall, heavily-built foreman with a loud threatening voice. He had three instructors to oversee the forty or so apprentices in their charge. Anybody caught admiring the view instead of working, got a reprimand.

Unfortunately, much of what we were taught in the A.T.S., e.g. filing, sawing and drilling etc., was a repeat of what we did on the Pre-Apprentice Course. The only difference was that a much higher degree of precision was required.

Instruction on the use of lathes, milling machines and shapers etc., was new and interesting, but we were never to use these skills during the rest of our apprenticeship. There was no linking of tuition with our future work in the factory, or instruction about the switchgear products that Reyrolles made. We were taught in isolation of what life in the factory was really like - but things were soon to change!

Some time during my early days of apprenticeship, a formal letter enclosing a copy of my training indentures arrived at our Reed Street address. These had to be signed and witnessed and returned to Reyrolles. We thought a long time about who to ask to witness my mother's signature.

We finally chose Mr Willey, our backyard neighbour. Our strange rationale was that he had served a five-year apprenticeship as a plater in the dockyard and at least he should know something about indentures. He was glad to oblige.

After about twelve weeks in the A.T.S., our training and education really began! Training, by working in various production assembly departments, and education, by being exposed to the behaviour and language of fitters in the factory.

The plan was that each apprentice would spend three to six months in different departments to obtain an insight into most of the firm's products and processes. At the age of eighteen or thereabouts, his progress would be reviewed, and if satisfactory results had been obtained at evening classes, an opportunity to transfer to the engineering department may be made.

While some apprentices did reach the necessary standard at evening classes, many more were seduced by the higher earnings obtained by working on piece work in the assembly departments. Here it was not unusual to take home 75% more than would have been earned on time work. As a result, many apprentices gave up any ambition of entering the engineering department, once they got used to the relatively high wages in the factory.

My first apprentice placement was to the mining switchgear department at New Town Works. There I was introduced to factory assembly methods and more specially to the crude industrial language used on the factory floor!

Having had a sheltered upbringing, I had no experience of this type of language and nobody had warned me what to expect. Obviously I had heard very colourful language at football matches, usually directed at the referee, but I had no idea that people spoke like this every day at work. It seemed as if the workers took on a different vocabulary as they walked through the factory gates. However, they didn't swear in front of women.

I quickly got used to the coarse, factory parlance but because I refrained from using such language, many of my workmates thought me very pompous.

Nowadays if such language is directed as a threat to an individual, it becomes unacceptable and challengeable in employment law. Not so in 1951.

In my case while working in the mining switch-gear department, I made a mistake of putting some nuts on without the necessary lock-washers. The fitter I was working for had not inspected my work, but when the inspector correctly rejected this, he just exploded. My mistake had not damaged anything, it just wasted a few hours work.

This did not stop the fitter challenging my mentality, parentage and the credibility of the apprentice training instructors in language that was obscene and extremely threatening. He was so furious that I thought he was going to hit me.

What did a sixteen-year-old first year apprentice do? Complain and be marked for the rest of his training, or put up with it and put it down to experience? I reluctantly chose the latter. On the way home that night, I wondered how I was going to cope with the next four years. With difficulty, I thought.

In May 1951, a terrible mining disaster at Easington Colliery,about ten miles south of Sunderland, resulted in the death of 85 miners. An official inquiry by H.M.Inspector, (Mines) 1952, afterwards concluded that friction of a coal cutter pick on pyrites caused the ignition of fire damp and a massive explosion.

How did this unfortunate event reward me with a temporary pay rise at Reyrolles? The answer is that Reyrolles supplied the switchgear for Easington Colliery, and a few weeks after the tragic event it was brought back to Hebburn for renovation. My foul-mouthed colleague and I got the job. The equipment was covered in coal dust and we got a percentage of 'dirty money' for working on it. For the next few weeks I went home looking like a coalman but with more money in my pocket!

By this time I had a proper boiler suit and was rather concerned when it got dirty so quickly, whilst I was working on this coal-infested switchgear. The extra 'dirty money' was practically used every weekend washing and cleaning it for the following week.

My mother used to boil the garment on the Friday night and then scrub, poss, mangle and rinse it during Saturday. It then took most of Sunday to dry in front of the fire before it was ready again for work on Monday morning. Unfortunately, the more it was washed, the more it shrank. After a while, I was going to work with the boiler suit bottoms half way up my leg.

Fifty years later I discovered one of the fitters in the mining switchgear department was a Ted Alexander - a cousin on my father's side. Ted worked at Reyrolles for 49 years.