‘It was a dirty place to grow up but I accepted it because I was born there’
North Staffordshire historian MERVYN EDWARDS talks to Newcastle’s new mayor John Cooper, who has taken the chains of office for the second time, about his long working career in the many industries of the Potteries before stepping into politics
WHEN Conservative May Bank representative John Cooper became Mayor of Newcastle for the second time last month, I called him for a chat – consequently hearing about his many connections with Stoke-on-trent.
Indeed, he was born in Salem Street, Etruria, in 1945, living there until he was 11-years-old with parents Albert and Mary and siblings Philip, Albert and Ann.
He paints a monochrome picture of the smoky, dusty environment in which he grew up.
“I started my education at Belmont School in Etruria, which survives today but has since been rebuilt,” he explains.
“The massive steelworks near to us were noisy and we could also hear the steam trains travelling on the nearby Loop Line.
“We always knew what time it was because Shelton Bar Iron and Steel had a hooter that went off every hour on the hour, so when the siren blew at four o’clock, it was time to go home.”
Etruria was heavily polluted, as he recalls: “There were the blast furnaces of Shelton Bar, the nearby gasworks, the local potworks, a marl hole, the main line trains and the Potteries Loop Line that branched off it.
“Any new windows that were installed in Etruria houses often took on a blue colour on account of the carbon in the atmosphere.
“The brick pavements in those days were very damp, and we boys would slide or skate down the pavements because they were like sheets of ice.
“It was a dirty place to live, but I accepted it because I was born there.”
Whilst still at school, John found that he had disadvantages to overcome.
“At seven-years-old,” he remembers, “I moved to the Etruria Junior school.
“I took my eleven-plus exam there but failed on spelling, being dyslexic – though this condition wasn’t
recognised in the 1950s. My own parents were educated in the late 19th century and could not understand my issues. My father thought I was slightly backward, and accepted it.
“I later attended Hartshill Secondary Modern School and took a thirteen-plus exam – though I was actually only twelve-and-a-half – and again failed on spelling.
“I still can’t spell now, and have long since been diagnosed as being a little on the autistic spectrum as well as being dyslexic.”
With John about to leave school, his father tried to get him a labouring job at the Shelton Bar steelworks
– but he refused as he wanted to be an engineer.
“I’m not sure why,” says John, scratching his head, “but I am told that autistic people tend to be inclined in that direction.
“When I was a young boy, Meccano sets would keep me happy for hours.”
John signed up for a five-year apprenticeship with Thomas Willatt’s iron foundry and engineering company, which was formerly situated in Bethesda Street, Hanley, on the site of the present police station.
“During the apprenticeship, dad paid for my night school studies and I
was able to pass my City and Guilds exam before my 18th birthday.
“I left Willatt’s before the five years was up because I had become engaged to be married and my fiancée had a baby on the way.”
He moved to Twyford’s sanitaryware factory at Cliffe Vale as an engineer fitter – and from manufacturing engineering into maintenance engineering.
He said: “I was paid about sevenpence an hour more – which was just enough to keep my head above water, financially.
“I stayed at Twyford’s for just over two years, becoming a charge-hand fitter. A fitter takes machinery apart and repairs it – he tightens up nuts and bolts!
“When the new Twyford’s factory in Alsager opened, the company built new kilns, and I helped to install them as well as extractor fans, helped by a couple of labourers and an electrician.”
Now living with his growing family at Cliffe Vale and wishing to better himself at work, John landed a job at Shelton Bar, where his elder brother was an employee.
“I joined as a fitter in the new casting plant, where they poured steel into a mould during its transformation into steel bar, which was then taken away and rolled into steel. I was made a charge-hand before I left.”
Talk to anyone of certain vintage who worked in heavy industry and they’ll tell you of how humour lightened the load of employees.
“At Shelton Bar,” smiles John, “apprentices threw buckets of water over me and others.
“There were also plastic bags filled with water that would be dropped on people. People drew cartoons of me, ribbing me for stuttering – people even nicknamed me “Tut” because of it.
“I took it in good part because engineers did take the mickey out of each other, but were good people.”
John is happy to talk about his stutter, which survives today and has been very much a part of his life’s journey.
“My stutter has always been a disadvantage,” he said. “At school I was unable to argue with fellow pupils, and so I would hit them instead.
“So I learned to fight, to handle myself. At the age of 12 or 13 I was a bit violent, just through being frustrated in not being able to speak.
“As I matured, I overcame some of this. I learned people skills when I became a charge-hand in my jobs.
“Employers realised that I could talk to people, and explain processes to apprentices about welding, repairing machinery and safety at work.”
John didn’t stay at Shelton Bar for too long – but it had nothing to do with the pranks that were played on him.
“In working with molten steel,” he informs me, “I encountered hot and cold working conditions, and catching pneumonia, I was taken to hospital for a fortnight.
“A doctor told me that the job would ultimately kill me if I stayed in it.”
So he moved to another prominent Potteries company – H and R Johnson, the wall tile company in Tunstall – where he worked as a fitter for 29 years.
Over that time, he saw manufacturing processes change from crude hand-work, shovelling and wheelbarrow-pushing to new technological systems and spraydryers that produced a much better quality of tile. He also learnt to use computers, in so far as they were relevant to the work of fitters.
John saw out his working career as a part-time maintenance operator with the retailer Next, visiting its various Potteries branches, fitting shelves and assembling furniture – as he says, “a doddle” for a man of his experience.
After he finally retired at Next in 2007, he become Deputy Mayor of Newcastle, and Mayor between 2007-8.
So what has driven his politics over the years?
“I have always been able to mix with people and I felt that if I could become a councillor, I could improve myself – perhaps a slightly selfish reason,” he offers.
“However, I really felt that I could help people – especially being a church-goer.
“I began to change, not necessarily fighting campaigns from a political standpoint so much as listening to the public.
“It became a little less about my Conservative politics and more about listening to people’s housing and social problems.
“This has been my approach ever since, even though I have made opponents in my own party.
“I saved Bradwell Lodge Community Centre from closure and have been its chairman for over three years – and I inaugurated the centre’s successful fun day.”
At the age of 75 and living in Wolstanton, he now finds himself back in chains again – the Newcastle Mayor who knows more than most about old-time industry in the Potteries.