The Way We Were
Hastings, East Sussex, August 1964
The phalanxes of twowheeled vehicles began arriving on Saturday 1 August, much to the authorities’ alarm and consternation – at that time Hastings Police comprised just 133 full-time officers and 67 Special Constables. Reinforcements were helicoptered into Lydd Airport some 26 miles away, and 66 people were eventually arrested. A local magistrate stated that ‘it is time for Parliament to consider what measures they should take to crush this form of mass hooliganism’.
Earlier in the year, violence had erupted between these two opposing sets of British youth subcultures at various other seaside towns, including Margate, Brighton and Bournemouth, so it’s not hard to envisage respectable Hastings citizens grumbling that while spivs and Teddy Boys were appalling enough, this latest batch of thugs should all be deported to British Antarctica. Thankfully, all here appears calm.
Of the parked cars, the Minor 1000 ahead of the Ford Anglia 105E De Luxe sports aftermarket flashing
indicators – a popular modification for vehicles originally fitted with trafficators. Close by the Morris is a fearsome lady in an Ena Sharples hat who appears to be contemplating a swift return to National Service for all and sundry. That Prefect 100E with the roof-rack lacks a nearside wing mirror – a possible victim of a passing Gene Vincent enthusiast.
Behind the Ford are three vehicles that are as much a part of a 1964 road scene as traffic lights on striped poles. The Austin A55 Cambridge MkII almost certainly contains a tartan car rug, just as you were likely to find boxes of Golden Wonder and crates of Corona Lemonade in the Thames 300E’s load bay. Furthermore, no Austin A40 Farina MkI would be complete without a thermos of oxtail soup and a copy of The Daily Herald on the back seat.
Bringing up the rear is a Hillman Minx Phase V that looks slightly down at heel with its worn offside front tyre and faded bodywork. We can only guess the reaction of the owner of the next car, which looks like a pre-war Alvis Silver Crest, to the day’s events – but it probably included the phrase ‘…too good for them’. Slightly less opulent but no less interesting is the Ford Escort 100E, which was essentially an estate version of the 300E fitted with a back seat and rear side-windows.
Further along the road, we encounter a Hillman Imp, and an Austin A30 van, plus someone in the telephone box who might be dialling 999. Meanwhile, several holidaymakers are making good their escape from this scene of sordid ghastliness, muttering: ‘It’s Clacton and Margate all over again.’
The stencilled front number plate on the bonnet, the fog lamps and the insignia on the doors of the Triumph Herald coupé all hint at a weekend racer. Such a motorist was as likely to be an habitué of either the Ace Café or Eel Pie Island; the former, all Harris tweed sport coat and James Fox haircut, and the latter more ‘Joe and Petunia’ from the COI warning films. Another Minx Phase V heads in the opposite direction, followed by a brace of Mods and a further BMC Farina. A third example awaits at the kerb and could that dark-coloured Austin A60 Cambridge with the roof-mounted radio antenna be an unmarked CID car?
Three closing thoughts. Firstly, the dearth of Minis and the ADO16s in this photograph. Secondly the gulf between the various Morris and Hillman drivers and the various Lambretta and BSA riders is not so much vast as akin to light years. Finally, that scooter parked so neatly between the Minor and the Prefect – its proud owner would not wish it to be damaged by any passing ‘Mr. Postie-Man’ in his Morris LD.