Robert James Lawson -I was born on the 19th August 1925.
My earliest memory was about 1929. I was four years of age, I remember my mother taking me to my ninny walling’s house in Rockeby Street where I was born. We had set off down Rose Vale where we lived, into Langrove Street, into Prince Edwin Street, then through small side streets into Everton Brow, then into Rockeby Street. My nin was a little lady who had six daughters and a son, she also lost a son aged 5 through an accident in a playground. Nin had beautiful hair and when she combed it out it reached down and completely covered her back.
The house was so tiny, it was a two up two down with a toilet in the back yard next to the coal place. I’d swear the living room was only about 8ft x 8ft, with furniture in it there wasn’t much room. Yet on Sunday night every week we would get together at nins, mum, dad, aunty peg, uncle will, aunty nelly, uncle dick, and aunty hetty who was unmarried and in her teens.
My aunty hetty was only about 16 or 17 years old and she used to brush her hair over a hundred times and it really shone a lovely red colour. She had a few boyfriends that I can remember. The story goes that one of her boyfriends was a jew and he wanted to marry hetty, but when he insisted she change her religion and forsake her family and live the way he wanted she told him where to go.
Her older sister nelly was courting dick king and she was still living with her mum. So places for courting were few and far between. They courted on the stairs and especially on Sundays they must have been driven mad with the kids running in and out. I have spoken to Nellie recently (2004) she told me sometimes they would go to our entry alongside the church at the top of Rockeby Street to do their courting. One night someone threw a cabbage at them, they had a good laugh and so did I when she told me.
We looked forward to Sundays because nin showed us kids a lot of love. She couldn’t give us much in the way of clothes, toys and other material things, but always lots of affection. Now granddad was a different kettle of fish. He showed us no affection at all and my picture of him was sitting by the fire in the old grate leaning on the kettle and smoking his pipe and then spitting in the fire. Grandad was a short, stocky man with hair like wire wool. According to stories I was told, as a young man he treated my nin very badly. To his credit, if any of his grandchildren came in he would ask them who they were and then proceed to tell them their birthday. He cornered a rat in the coal place once and when a rat is in that position it will try to jump over your shoulder. This one landed on his chest and he had to kill it with his hands, he worked in Bibbys on the docks he was used to rats, the place was overrun with them.
My next recollection was starting school at St Peters school in Sackville Street off Langrove Street. I remember the heads name was Mr Bolton and my first teacher was Miss Palmer. I liked Miss Palmer because she gave me an orange every week because my books were the neatest in the class. We went on a day trip to Chester Zoo I remember feeding the elephants with buns. Before we came away, Miss Palmer made us all go on a slide and when we landed she gave us all a mars bar each. I was last in line and when I landed she said “I haven’t got any left Robert” but when she seen my face she laughed and gave me my mars bar. The first day at that school was quite funny, most of the kids and their mothers were nervous about starting school but one lad called Williams was being chased around the playground by his mother shouting “come here you little sod you’re going in whether you like it or not”. She eventually caught up with him and he was still kicking and screaming going into the school.
The wash house was a place where most of the local women used at least once a week. I’m sure they enjoyed it, listening to all the gossip and probably having a good laugh. Having said that, it was hard work using scrubbing boards and dolly pegs which meant plenty of elbow grease. I did go in a few times with my mother and the smell of strong soap and the steam gave it an overpowering atmosphere. The wash house was situated on Netherfield Road at the top of Rose Vale. It doesn’t exist now, they have changed all the streets, put up high rise flats, trees and some greenery , it looks a lot better than when I lived there.
The area I lived in then was predominately a Protestant community and any R.C.’s were in for a rough ride. Rose Vale, where we lived, went between Great Homer Street and Netherfield Road. We were closer to the latter, which was rife with Orange Lodge bands and L.O.L. clubs. Apparently the houses were built by P.O.W.s from a previous war. One house was at ground level, the next upstairs and so on. We lived in an upstairs house with 12 stone steps to the living room. It was a 2 bedroom 1 living room and kitchen. I remember sitting with mam and dad by the fire one night and a mouse came out from under the ash pan, my dad put his foot on it, got some paper, picked it up by the tail took it to the yard and killed it.
Now, four houses up my other grandparents lived on the flat. That means you open the front door and you were in the living room. What can I say about my ninny Lawson and bob (granddad)? Nin was very inoffensive lady who was forever in debt and was until she died. But I loved her and the jam butties she continuously made me. I called granddad “Bob” because no one checked me as I was growing up I heard Nin call him “Bob” so I did and it stuck. Bob was a carter, but he would do anything because work was hard to come by in the thirties. On most days he would walk the length of the dock road looking for work (8 miles). If he couldn’t get a job working with horses he would go to the “Pen” (this was for Dockers only). This is where casual workers stood together hoping to get work. A foreman would pick so many out and the rest would have to try again tomorrow.
I hadn’t been at school long when my dad asked me would I like a ride on his bike. He had fitted a seat on the back just for me. I don’t recall where we were going but during the journey I was trying to get my feet on the axle together but only being little, I just couldn’t make it. Consequently I overbalanced and my left foot went into the spokes, I suspect the axle bored into my ankle. In the hospital, the doctor told my dad “another quarter inch and he would have crippled”. However they fitted an iron on my foot and for probably four or five weeks I couldn’t walk. I was back to school as soon as I could walk, I probably drove my mother up the wall.
It was a case of “The survival of the fittest” around where we lived. If you were soft, you were bullied, so it was a case of standing up for yourself. There was a gang of kids aged seven to nine and there was a continual battle to be “cock-o-the-gang”. Billy Stewart, who lived over the road from us, was the instigator of any trouble that was around. My battles with Billy are worth a mention. Anyone that could beat Billy was the cock. We had a few skirmishes but two big ones that stand out, the first was outside of the cobblers we started to fight and one of the bigger boys interfered and I ended up losing that one. Then a week or so later we started again, this time were outside my nins. Now Grandad “Bob” used to like to sit at the front door on a chair out of sight of the neighbours, he happened to be there when we started the fight. Billy was like a bull at a gate, Bob just said “uppercut lad” so every time Billy came in head down I would uppercut him. After a few right uppercuts to his nose he saw blood and run home crying. Next morning as I got ready for school Mrs Stewart came over with Billy and said “Have you seen the state of him” pointing to his nose. Then she accused my dad of teaching me boxing because he’d bought me a punch ball to practise on. One word led to another and my mother ended up chasing her down the street and up stone steps where her friend lived, she caught her half way up. It was a common thing to see not only children fighting but grown-ups as well. Women fought over kids and pulled the hair out of each other, I remember seeing two brothers who always seemed to be standing together outside moneypennys grocery shop every time you walked by.
These two men were about 25-30 and one day they stood toe to toe and knocked hell out of each other for what reason we will never know. Another time, two women fought each other and before it was over their teenage sons were at it as well. Rose Vale was very steep, from Netherfield Road to Great Homer Street so when some kids got scooters (including me) they would go to the top and how someone wasn’t killed I’ll never know, because LangroveStreet went across and anything could have happened. I recall walking through Langrove Street and as we passed a coal cart (horse drawn) I noticed folded up piece of paper, picking it up I opened it and all I recognised on it was, in the right hand corner was 5/-, I knew that was a sign for five shillings. My friend with me was Bobby Brenan he asked me what it was, I said I don’t know and we went home. When I showed it to my dad, he said it was a 5/- postal order and did anyone else know, I told him about bobby. I must say my dad was as honest as the day is long, but this was early in the 1930’s and five shillings was a fortune. I suppose what he did next was to test the water.
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