Big Four Cameraman

R J Blenkinsop is a name known to many steam enthusiasts and photographers. Now in his 90th year, he tells The Railway Magazine of his long life on the lineside.

Now in his 90th year, renowned photographer R J Blenkinsop talks to Nick Pigott about his long life recording steam at work from the lineside.

“THE policeman parked his moped against the fence and leaned over the bridge parapet. ‘What are you doing down there?’ he shouted. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’, I called back, rather put out by his strident tone.

‘Come up here at once!’ he demanded. Knowing that the 4.10pm from Paddington was due shortly and that it was being hauled by a ‘King’, I stood my ground. ‘Right, I’m coming down to you then!’.

“And with that, the constable began to slip, slide and stumble down the steep-sided cutting. When he eventually got to the bottom he crossed the main line to get to me and just as he was about to take me to task, I quietly showed him my official Western Region lineside permit.

“He read it, glared at me, re-crossed the tracks and scrambled back up the cutting without saying a word. A few minutes later I got my photo.

“The officer was clearly upset and I perhaps shouldn’t have acted the way I did, but it was his attitude I took exception to. If he’d just called down politely from the bridge to ask whether I had permission to be on railway property, I could have saved him all that trouble by explaining what I was doing there.”

That awkward encounter in Warwickshire is one that will resonate with a great many railway photographers, most of whom have experienced at least one such challenge over the years, be it from policemen, farmers, railway officials or just officious members of the public.

The Hatton incident occurred in the 1950s to Dick Blenkinsop, a lifelong rail enthusiast whose lineside pass extended from Banbury to Tyseley/Stratford and who has benefited from several other steam-age permits over the years, including Old Oak Common to Reading, Kilsby to Coventry and Exeter to Plymouth.

R J Blenkinsop took his first railway

photograph after the war with a camera belonging to his mother, capturing the ‘Bournemouth Belle’ shortly after its 1946 reinstatement, and he took up the hobby seriously after receiving a camera of his own for his 21st birthday.

Born in Warwick in October 1930, he can just remember being pushed in his pram alongside the town’s Great Western station and glimpsing copper-capped chimneys and brass safety valve bonnets at the top of the embankment.

When he was six, his family made the short move to a house near Leamington Spa, but with the nearby city of Coventry suffering badly from the blitz not long afterwards, young Richard was packed off to boarding school in deepest Worcestershire to escape the bombs. It wasn’t all gloom for the youngster, though, for the school had a significant railway connection – a GWR ‘Hall’ was named after it. Not just any ‘Hall’ either, for No. 4981 Abberley Hall’s enduring claim to fame is that it’s the first of thousands to appear in any alphabetical list of British main line steam ‘namers’.

After four years at Winchester College, during which time he managed to get a footplate ride on a Collett 0-6-0 from Newbury to Winchester, Dick attended the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London but soon realised life as a clarinetist wasn’t for him, and so joined a firm of machine tool makers in Coventry on a five-year apprenticeship.

Two years later, the 21st birthday present arrived – a Kershaw Curlew III folding camera with a “fabulous lens” made by Taylor-Hobson of Leicester. “It took wonderfully sharp pictures but its one problem was that it never folded back exactly the same way each time so I was always having to fiddle around with it,” he recalls with a wry smile.

Thanks to understanding parents, he was able to convert a downstairs loo in the family home into a darkroom, in which he did all his

own developing and printing.

Buoyed by the confidence the new camera gave him, Dick began travelling further afield from his Warwickshire haunts, capturing neverto-be-repeated scenes and motive power on the Lickey Incline, the East Coast and Great Central main lines, the London termini, Camden

Bank, the Great Western Main Line, the West Midlands and even the South Wales valleys.

“I was fortunate in that living in the centre of England I was within reasonably easy reach of almost all the main lines radiating from the capital, so I was able to witness a large variety of ‘Big Four’ locomotives before the mass withdrawals of the late-1950s and ’60s began to take effect. My only regret is that I never made it to Scotland.”

By way of compensation for missing out on the scenic routes north of the border,

Dick’s apprenticeship led to a plum job in his employer’s export sales division, enabling him to photograph working steam in numerous parts of the world, including Norway, Finland, Denmark, Italy, France, Turkey and the Middle East.

He is one of the last surviving railway photographers who began in the era of huge bellows cameras on big tripods with large glassplate negatives. “The second one I had was another big cumbersome thing – a Zeiss Press ‘Mirrorflex’ – but after a while I took it to pieces, built a new wooden front and fitted the TaylorHobson lens from the old camera into it.

“I was very pleased with the result and most of my steam-era pictures were taken with it. I also equipped myself with the ability to shoot 120-size roll film with 2½ x 3½ inch negatives.

“In 1960, I decided to switch to 35mm format and bought a Leica M2. That’s the best camera I’ve ever had and it’s got a cassette in it right now, yet I nevertheless went back to roll film in 1972 when I acquired a big Pentax 6x7.

“Thank goodness for today’s digital cameras, though,” he adds. “I bought my first, a Nikon D300, about eight years ago and when I think how I used to struggle carting about all that bulky old equipment and those heavy boxes of glass negatives, it’s as different now as railways were from canals.”

By the early-1960s, it was clear British steam hadn’t much longer to live in the face of the modern traction onslaught, but Dick wasn’t really interested in chasing diesels and electrics, and with a wife and three children to support, didn’t feel able to join the army of enthusiasts beginning to travel overseas in search of steam action.

“I was just wondering what on earth I was going to do with myself when, by chance while driving to work one morning, I spotted a Coventry Corporation steam roller. My god, you don’t see many of those these days, I thought, and when I learnt one was about to be scrapped, I bought it.

“It was a 1938-built Aveling-Barford and I spent six years restoring it to rally condition with my son James, who I’m pleased to say has inherited the steam bug and now has a traction engine of his own.”

Another quirky acquisition was the purchase of the chimney from a Stanier ‘2P’ 0-4-4T, one of two push-pull engines that had worked Dick’s local lines in Warwickshire for years. “Nos. 41902 and 41909 were dumped on Coventry shed and I agreed a price of 30 shillings with British Railways for a chimney off one of them, but the procedure that had

to be gone through before I could have it was extraordinary. First of all, two men from Rugby turned up at Coventry in a lorry and spent the whole morning removing it. The chimney was then taken all the way to Crewe to be weighed to make sure 30 shillings was a fair price and then it was loaded onto a goods train and sent to Leamington Spa and finally put onto another lorry… and when I got home one evening it was sitting on my lawn. I’m not sure which engine’s chimney I’ve got as I didn’t see it being removed, but what it must have cost BR to transport it all those miles I dread to think – probably a lot more than what I paid!”

Completion of the road-roller restoration coincided not only with the BR steam famine but with Dick’s decision to leave his job and enter the world of self-employment as a freelance photographer. It was a move he’s never regretted, especially as it gave him the freedom to record the preserved main line steam that began in 1971 and has now been running for almost half a century.

The change of profession also gave him the opportunity to sort the thousands of glassplate and large format negatives he’d exposed during the 1950s and 60s and print them up for a major series of books with the Oxford Publishing Company: These were Shadows of the Great Western in 1972 and Echoes of the Great Western the next year, followed by Reflections of the Great Western and Silhouettes of the Great Western in 1976. A fifth volume, Tribute to the Western, followed in 1985.

“People tend to associate me with the Western because of my first books, but I’m keen to stress that’s only because of where I lived,” says Dick.

“I’m actually a lover of all steam engines and that led to a further series of books featuring my Midland, Eastern and Southern photos – Shadows of the Big Four, Echoes of the Big Four, Reflections of the Big Four and Silhouettes of the Big Four between 1975 and 1980. Those volumes were then bound into a large omnibus edition called Big Four Cameraman’, which appeared in 1985 as a celebration of motive power from the four big pre-1948 companies, the GWR, LMS, LNER and SR.”

In addition, Dick has published a six-part set of road steam books in The Steam Scene series,

written one of Welsh narrow-gauge interest, entitled Linda & Blanche: Penrhyn to Festiniog, and produced a photographic essay of the Liverpool & Manchester Railway.

A Blenkinsop photo speciality seems to have been the split-second capture of moving trains meeting each other at precisely the optimum moment, several examples of which appear in his books. I wondered whether he’d been born under a lucky star, but he modestly replied that there were so many trains in those days that if you waited long enough, two were bound to meet right in front of you. “If I was using one of my more portable cameras, I did sometimes have to sprint a few yards to make absolutely sure, though!”

Most of today’s steam photographers have their own particular ‘icons’ of the past, be it

H C Casserley, P Ransome-Wallis, Eric Treacy, Ivo Peters, Derek Cross, R C Riley, W J V Anderson and so on. In Dick’s case, it was the great pre-war cameraman Maurice Earley, an almost-legendary character he considers himself privileged to have met on a number of occasions and who used to run a postal photographic portfolio in which members passed their favourite prints among each other for comments and critiques.

Dick has not only derived much enjoyment from the portfolio over the years but found the discussions on the relative merits of each image extremely helpful. “If a senior member whose work I admired wrote in his notes that he liked an entry of mine, I would feel about ten feet tall,” he laughed.

Looking back on his long life, he muses: “I feel very fortunate to have been born when I was. If it had been a few years earlier I might have been killed in the war and if had been a few years later, I wouldn’t have been able to fully experience and record that wonderful decade of the 1950s.

“I’m not someone who looks back at the past all the time, though. The railway of today isn’t necessarily worse or better, it’s just different. We have to live for today & tomorrow and there’s no doubt modern trains are faster and more efficient.

“I’m a big fan of the preservation movement too and belong to Club 6024 and Didcot

Railway Centre, so I make sure I keep up to date with the heritage and main line developments by

reading the monthly magazines.

“When I was young I took Trains Illustrated, but for the past few decades I’ve enjoyed reading The Railway Magazine. You can rely on it; the articles are interesting, the news is reliable and there’s no jiggery-pokery.”

For the past 30 years or so, Dick has resided close to the Chiltern Line but doesn’t get to the lineside so much now unless there’s a steam special. “One of the reasons, apart from my age, is that so many locations are so badly overgrown.

“My favourite spots were Hatton, Harbury and the South Devon banks, but if I was granted the luxury of going back in time to photograph just one 1950s train again with a modern digital camera, I would opt for the ‘Bournemouth Belle’ Pullman with an immaculate rebuilt ‘Merchant Navy’ somewhere between Eastleigh and Basingstoke.

“It would be the Up train, towards the middle of May with a stormy sky illuminated by a patch of blue sky that allowed the sun to shine through the brilliant clear air. Marvellous!” ■

Dick Blenkinsop in his 90th year with the chimney he saved from a Stanier ‘2P’ 0-4-4T. The money British Railways spent in delivering this to him outweighed what they charged him to buy it! Superpower for a single carriage: This delightful pairing of a black-liveried ‘Grange’ and an autocoach forming the 9.58am all-stations stopper from Leamington to Banbury was photographed at Whitnash on a beautiful summer’s day in July 1952. No. 6819 Highnam Grange was allocated to Banbury at the time, with the service calling at Southam Road & Harbury, Fenny Compton and Cropredy, all since closed.

Above: LNWR ‘G2a’ 0-8-0 No. 49181 accelerates a Nuneaton to Banbury coal train away from Harbury cement works on the climb from Leamington on the crisp winter morning of February 2, 1952.

Left: The extremely unusual 4ft-gauge Padarn Railway was visited by Dick in 1960, the year before it closed. In this classic scene, he has pressed the shutter at just the right time to ‘freeze’ a load of coal as it leaves the shovel and heads into the bunker of 0-6-0T Amalthaea on June 10 that year. The 1886-built outside-cylindered Hunslet – believed to be the only British loco with a ligature cast into its nameplates – was being prepared at Gilfach Ddu for its daily trip down to Port Dinorwic. Sadly, it failed to make it into preservation.

Within the inner sanctum: A presentable Barningham Hall at rest around one of Old Oak Common roundhouse’s four turntables on September 24, 1961. Bedfellows on the other side include ‘Castles’ Nos. 5084 Reading Abbey and 4076 Carmarthen Castle, and No. 6947 Helmingham Hall.

A meeting outside the south portal of Crewkerne Tunnel was a lucky shot for Dick. There seems to be not much coal in the tender of No. 34027 Lundy, emerging from the tunnel and meeting No. 34078 222 Squadron about to enter it.

One of Dick’s favourite pictures is of ‘Jubilee’ No. 45721 Impregnable being assisted up Camden Bank on July 25, 1953. Also in shot is a ‘Royal Scot’ with the stock to form the down ‘Irish Mail’ and an ‘8F’. A busy scene.

A view over the landscape near Beaulieu Road of 'West Country' No. 34103 Calstock with the 10.00 Bradford Exchange-Poole train on June 24, 1961.

Paddington station in the preservation era: ‘King’ No. 6024 King Edward I attracts a healthy degree of adulation as it stands at the bufferstops following arrival with the ‘Welshman’ from Swansea on October 11, 1997. The white plastic bags on the right-hand platform might have been considered by some to be a marring effect at the time the picture was taken, but since then, we’ve had the climate change crackdown on plastic, suggesting such items could be viewed as timepieces in years to come. As this article was written before the coronavirus outbreak, perhaps even the ‘social gathering’ aspects seen here will be viewed differently one day, too?

Left: The side of steam railways members of the public, and even many enthusiasts, never saw: Shovelling char from the smokebox of ‘King’ No. 6012 King Edward VI at the end of its day’s work at Old Oak Common shed on July 3, 1960. Such thankless tasks still take place on heritage lines, of course, but usually after most visitors have gone home.

The crew of a refuse collection vehicle take a breather as 2-6-2T No. 4112 has just crossed the A41 on the outskirts of Warwick on February 16, 1957, with a local from Birmingham Snow Hill.

A few hours were spent by the main line at Shap after a holiday in the Lake District, which was Dick’s only visit, not able to find all the locations. On June 26, 1957, ‘Jubilee’ No. 45613 Kenya pilots a Stanier ‘8F’, and there’s a banker at the rear of the formation, too.

An Ian Allan special from Paddington to Birmingham via Bristol on April 16, 1955 was hauled by No. 7017 G J Churchward, with the train receiving banking assistance on the Lickey from 0-10-0 No. 58100 ‘Big Bertha’. Note the ‘Coronation’ beaver tail observation car.

Above: An interesting example of push-and-pull operation as ‘14XX ’0-4-2T No. 1416 heads across the River Dee, Chester, towards the station on March 10, 1956. Below: High-contrast lighting picks out a wealth of carriage hinges and handles as Stanier ‘Black Five’ No. 45040 leaves Evesham with a Birmingham to Ashchurch train and heads into the evening sun on May 7, 1955. Apart from the fact that the Worcester to Paddington line (seen curving to the right in the distance above the locomotive) still exists, this scene is barely recognisable today.

Midland ‘Compound’ No. 1000 worked a number of specials, including this one for the Stephenson Locomotive Society from Birmingham on August 30, 1959, easing away from Doncaster for York after enthusiasts had visited the Works. The summer evening of June 28, 1960, saw Dick visit London’s Liverpool Street station, where he captured this terrific line-up of ‘B1’ No. 61311, ‘N7’ No. 69614, ‘J69’ No. 68619 and Ivatt ‘4MT’ No. 43149. Below: Whitmore water troughs is the setting on August 3, 1957 as ‘Black Five’ No. 45287 leads the race towards Stafford against No. 45288. Dick said the consecutively numbered locos was an incredible coincidence.

A cloudless winter’s day – February 16, 1957 – sees ‘61XX’ 2-6-2T No. 6116 about to pass ‘Castle’ No. 5035 Coity Castle climbing Hatton Bank with the Down ‘Cambrian Coast Express’. A summer holiday in North Wales for Dick and family in June 1960 provided an opportunity for some narrow-gauge photography, with this shot showing Double Fairlie Taliesin drifting towards Boston Lodge. Dick notes the road bridge in the background had just been rebuilt. Webb 2-4-2T No. 46683 waits at Leamington Spa Avenue with an autotrain to Rugby Midland on December 29, 1951. No trace exists of the station today. With electrification from Crewe to London complete, unkempt ‘Britannia’ No. 70042 Lord Roberts takes the centre road with the ‘Pines Express’ from Manchester to Bournemouth on June 25, 1960. Nearing the end of its working life, gas turbine No. 18000 passing Twyford with an early morning Bristol-Paddington express on June 11, 1957. The loco was withdrawn in 1960.

Right: Every now and again, a photograph transcends normal perameters and becomes a work of art. This is just such a portrait. Taken on July 20, 1960, it depicts a train of at least 50 empty iron ore tipplers from Brymbo steelworks, North Wales, casting an almost hypnotic row of shadows south of Leamington as they head for Banbury ironstone sidings behind ‘WD’ 2-8-0 No. 90257. Dick admits, like many of us no doubt, he watched trains like this disappearing from sight many times, but only on this one occasion did he think to record it for posterity.

Right: A great ‘over-the-wall’ shot of ‘G2a’ No. 49002 passing Edge Hill on February 18, 1961, with a goods train heading for Liverpool.

Dick's Big Four Cameraman book is an omnibus edition published by OPC of four individual books, Echoes, Shadows, Reflections and Silhouettes of the Big Four. All are long out of print but still sought after second-hand as some of the best pictorial railway books of their time.

Another visit to Wales in July 1964 saw Dick photograph Vale of Rheidol’s No. 9 Prince of Wales running along the old formation and making a smoky departure to Devil’s Bridge.

Footplate crew exchange opinions at Southampton Central on June 6, 1964, as ‘West Country’ No. 34004 Yeovil takes on water before heading west towards Bournemouth.