GREAT MEMORIES OF GROWING UP IN CITY
Reg Collis, who now lives in Australia, remembers growing up in Abingdon Street during the 1950s
IWAS born in August 1944, the youngest of three boys – my brothers were aged six and four years old respectively – and I grew up in Abingdon Street. Looking back now, it was a hard life for mum and dad, mainly for mum because looking after a family of five was a full-time job, and she didn’t enjoy any labour-saving gadgets, things like a washing machine and a vacuum cleaner.
We didn’t have a bathroom, and the lavatory was outside. We had to attend Reginald Street public baths for our ablutions, otherwise it was the old tub or over the sink.
We had no hot running water. We just used the gas range or open fire to heat water. We knew no different, of course, because most of our neighbours shared similar living standards.
Abingdon Street was on the route of the Derby Carnival, and also the Rolls-Royce children’s party: along Osmaston Road and up Abingdon Street to Osmaston Park and the Rolls-Royce Welfare. The carnival was really good, the floats all decorated with people dressed up.
The bands included the Derby Serenaders, Regalia, and the Midshipmen. There were others, but I can’t remember them after all these years
Dad spent all his working life at Rolls-Royce, and for many years he could walk there and back and enjoy his midday meal at home because we weren’t far from Royce’s Hawthorn Street gate. But then they moved his department to Sinfin.
In those days, Abingdon Street was blessed with abundant shops.
On the corner of our street and Handel Street we had three shops – Woolley’s, Needham’s and a Co-op store that had a grocery, butcher, fishmonger and tobacconist. The Co-op had the cashier system where the money was sent on the cable, through a hole in the wall, back and forth to the individual departments.
Mum was always there to see us off to school, and was there to greet us when we returned, always to food on the table because dad was a stickler for set meal times.
My eldest brother did well at school and went on to Central School. My other brother attended Allenton Technical School for his last two years at school. They both went on to gain apprenticeships and continue with further education by attending Derby Technical College.
As for me, well, I struggled, Mum was busier when I was growing up as there were five in the family then, so I didn’t get the home schooling my brothers did. But thanks to having a good form master in my last year at school, I achieved my best results to date. Anyway, my favourite subjects were sport... and sport.
I did a paper round for which I received 10s for six days – my first independence with my own money.
I loved meeting the different people, mainly the elderly men – not much older than me now – waiting on their doorsteps. They asked for the latest cricket scores from the stop press, or half-time scores from the football. The Perrys owned the newsagent’s, but the business was rundown because they spent no money on the shop.
Us delivery boys had bags that were all patched-up because Mr Perry wouldn’t buy new ones. Being on Osmaston Road, they enjoyed sales of papers as the workers came out of the main gates of the Carriage and Wagon Works, and Rolls-Royce.
They also enjoyed good sales at Christmas with families paying
weekly towards the Christmas club in order to purchase annuals for their children.
I didn’t get a Rolls-Royce apprenticeship, but eventually got one as a maintenance fitter at the Derby Co-op, based at the bakery on Osmaston Park Road.
The bakery was one of the most modern in Europe as it had all the latest machinery and techniques.
I had to attend Derby Technical College and complete the City and Guilds Machine Shop Engineering courses. I found myself with some former junior school mates who’d gone on to grammar school and were now apprentices with RollsRoyce, Carriage and Wagon Works, Loco Works and other large Derby engineering companies.
It was a struggle at first. I was floundering, but tried extra hard with maths and workshop practices and eventually got on equal terms.
Being the young apprentice, I was handed the dirty non-glamorous jobs. I hated it. I wanted to be doing meaningful work. We had six fitters, an electrician, a plumber, a sheet metal worker, boilermen and a chief engineer, whom I was told earned £20 per week, which was more than 10 times what I was earning. I hoped that one day I could earn £20 per week, although the word ‘inflation’
wasn’t then in our vocabulary.
A few chaps used to gamble on the horses, and I was given the job of cycling to the bookies to put on a few bob for them. A chap called Tom did OK and would always give me a tip. The others just checked the winnings and said: “Thanks.”
There were many characters. Tim Bowers was the manager. He was responsible for increasing sales of the Co-op bread and confectionery.
The output to shops around Derbyshire and Burton was enormous. He always experimented in his private kitchen to develop new products. He didn’t stand fools and had a foul temper, but would reward employees buy handing them money – or ripping in half a 10s or £1 note for two to share! I had a habit of whistling Colonel Bogey, and one day the manager asked the chief engineer why I did it and if it was directed at him. After that I never did it again. One fitter took snuff – yes, his nickname was Snuffy – and when I was teaching him how to light the big gas-fired ovens, I told him to look down the sight-hole. There was a blowback that burnt his eyebrow off. He had bushy eyebrows and so looked really funny with only one eyebrow. I tried hard not to laugh.
Quite a lot of girls worked there
and many relationships were formed, some eventually leading to marriage. There were also quite a few secret relationships.
I couldn’t wait to reach 21 years of age and leave. I went to Rolls-Royce at Sinfin, eventually, progressing to working between the development test beds and the pre-rigging shop.
What an eye opener that was, working first on Avon turbo-prop engines, Trent, Conway and Spey, then the Spey 168 25R for the Phantom jets, the VTOL (vertical take off), then mostly on the RB211. I was fascinated by it all. The quality control was very good, the amount of paperwork accompanying each and every job had to be completed and the supervisor would finally sign-off before the engine went on to test. The pressure was on. You soon noticed the nervous foremen and supervisors, their hands shaking, some aged beyond their years. Not surprisingly there seemed too many collections for funerals of some employees still in their prime.
Being young and new to the job, I worked with older, experienced engineers, some of whom had been with Rolls-Royce all their working lives, never knowing anything else.
They were devoted to the company, and I found this hard to understand as we were not exactly overpaid. Everyone queued up for overtime, but there was a pecking order and I was not near the top. We had three young children by then and could have done with the extra money, but the older men always got first choice and overtime often went to chaps with no family living at home.
Then Rolls-Royce bought in three shifts – mornings, afternoons and nights. Again, I didn’t like them and so ended up doing regular nights as it was four nights of nine hours each, finishing on Friday at 6am and not starting back until 9pm on Monday. It seemed ideal, all that time off, but I found I had to do the odd night’s overtime to pay the bills, then two nights. I would end up feeling like a zombie and fell asleep all too easily.
Once, I dropped off on the bus and ended up in the town centre instead of at home.
But we had a good team on our night shift, which enabled some of us to catch a few hours sleep on some less busy nights. We covered for each other and it was not unknown to have the odd night off and someone would clock you in and out. That is until someone’s wife phoned in and he couldn’t be found, even though he was clocked on. He’d called to see a girl friend.
He got the sack from Rolls-Royce – and from home.
We had some ex RAF and Fleet Air Arm chaps join Rolls-Royce and work in our department. They were so disciplined. They’d arrive at work in their civvies, change into their overalls which were pressed, they would polish their shoes or boots, wore ties and be out on the job with military precision. Old habits die hard but it put us to shame.
On nights everyone would nod off after eating – a warm meal and a drink, radiators on, it didn’t take long to fall asleep. A lot of the chaps smoked and one chap had a pipe he puffed away on for the entire meal break because he wouldn’t get another chance for another until he clocked-off. He came with others from Belper in his car. One night when he’d nodded off, we shredded a little rubber into fine pieces and mixed it with his tobacco in his pouch. The next night, one of his car companions told us that, once out the gates and in the car, he’d lit his pipe. As they were driving along someone said: “Can you smell rubber?” They pulled over, all looking under the bonnet, checking the belts and hoses, and all the time he was puffing away. He told them the next day that he’d found little bits of rubber in his tobacco. He’d checked it because he could still smell rubber after he was inside his house. He questioned everyone.
Trying not to crack a smile, we sympathised.
The day shift had a foreman and supervisor, as did the other shifts. They used to inter-change so as one didn’t become too friendly with them. At times it came very political and we found that we couldn’t book more hours up on a particular engine, so we had to book it on another one we hadn’t worked on.
There were also periods when we had no work to do. We were either waiting for an engine to finish test or one to come in to be fitted out.
Trying to kill time doing nothing wasn’t easy. Sometimes I would go for a walk to other departments to visit a friend. On the day shift that was easier as one could catch the Rolls-Royce bus and go to another site. It’s amazing how important one could look with a drawing rolled-up under one’s arm.
When the RB211 was close to reaching performance on the test beds, there were penalties looming in the contract as Lockheed required performance by due dates. If not, Rolls-Royce was penalised per day. So by 1969-1970 Royce’s was close to bankruptcy and, indeed, that happened in 1971. But what an amazing engine it was.
When word got out the engine was close to reaching performances, the boffins would arrive in numbers.
They would pose questions to our supervisor who asked us to explain what we are doing. The boffins didn’t want to stoop so low as converse with us. We would say: “Let them ask us!” The supervisor would reply: “I daren’t tell them that.” One soon learned about class difference at Rolls-Royce.
I worked my last day at RollsRoyce in December 1970 before departing to New Zealand, then to Brisbane in 1982. But I still retain great memories of my time in Derby and the many true friends I still have there.