大象传媒

ELSWICK HOPPER鈥橲 CYCLE WORKS.

Part 2

鈥淢补尘鈥�
鈥淲hat now?鈥�
鈥淚 want a 鈥榓t鈥�
鈥淎ye, I want a lot of things鈥�
鈥� What if I get sunstroke?鈥�
鈥� You are not likely to get sunstroke sitting reading that comic鈥�
鈥淏ut I need a 鈥榓t to go look for a job鈥�
鈥淕et a job then we鈥檒l think about a hat鈥�
I might just as well have saved my breath, once Mum made her mind up that was it.
My elder sister Betsy worked at Top Hoppers as a packer.
My other three sisters were still at school.
Then I thought someone must have shot the stork or perhaps a fox got it 鈥榗os I didn鈥檛 have anymore sisters or brothers.
Hoppers made the cycles at Bottom Hoppers and transported them to Top Hoppers for packing and shipping to places all over the world.
They achieved this by having two sets of horses and carts specially made for transporting bicycles.
Every day the shoppers could hear the horses clip clopping down King St and George St then Finkle Lane.
Well almost anyone who was not deaf could hear them.
At Top Hoppers there was a yard where all the wooden crates were made. There were saw noises, hammers hammering in nails presumably, and lots of other noises that led one to believe that someone was indeed bent on earning his wage packet at the end of the week.
Then there were the packing buildings, and adjoining these were the offices.
The offices of Hoppers employed a multitude of young ladies as typists, and I think most of these thought the next stop was Hollywood.
I walked past one day as they were leaving and it looked just like M.G.M had just opened its big gates and all the talent came streaming out.
I warbled, 鈥淗ello鈥� as I was passing two young ladies, it was a polite thing to do because I had made eye contact.
Well, what I mean is, I noticed how nice and polished the shoes were.
And as my eyes travelled up the legs and took in the strait seams of the stockings and pretty dresses, my gaze wandered up until I saw two pairs of eyes gazing at me as though I was from another planet.
I always thought those girls wore too much eye shadow make up.
I was informed that some did not use it, so I deduced it was bruising caused by the heavy lashes whipping up and down like the shutters of a signal lamp on a battleship spelling out Morse code.
Eyelashes like the blinkers on a horse flicked up and down and I thought it鈥檚 a wonder they don鈥檛 get brain damage or cause the ears to crack and drop off.
They looked at me as though I was something unpleasant they had just stepped in on a hot day.
Mind you as a youth I admit I was no Robert Taylor.
But then I did not resemble Frankenstein鈥檚 monster .
The two girls decided not to scream and run off, they just glanced at each other and decided I was harmless, and with a little sniff, stuck two noses in the air and sailed away, like two toy boats on a pond in a stiff breeze.
So it had to happen.
Having got up earlier than usual I walked down to Bottom Hoppers.
I walked past all the little windows which in summer time were open onto the street, allowing me to look in and see all the men and some times a woman working at a lathe turning metal into various shapes, spindles for wheels and pedals.
There was the constant hum of high activity as wheels spun and canvas belts with metal clasps joining the ends together raced toward a pulley wheel, clacked, spun round it and raced back to the other wheel to clack again, and so on all day.
As I watched, a youth pulling a trolley arrived at one of these lathes and with a nod to the operator proceeded to unload the bars of round steel, each about a foot long onto the bench next to the lathe.
Having emptied his trolley the youth now loaded some finished spindles onto the trolley and moved away out of sight.
For a while I watched fascinated as wisps of steel curled like a spring being made from the round bar spinning in the jaws of the chuck on the lathe, and wisps of pale blue smoke arose as the cooling milk
Thin white oil poured in a thin stream from the small pipe that was directed onto the hard steel bit that was cutting curling thin strips of metal from the round steel bars as they turned in the chucks of the belt driven lathes.
The cooling oil would collect in a tray just below the lathe and be returned into the milk tank where it would be pumped through again having cooled from its journey round the system.
The thin twisted metal strips that looked like steel springs would be pushed to one end of the lathe trough and finally over the edge and into a metal collecting bin.
There was also a smell of hot oil coming out of those little windows.
I arrived at the big roll up door and on entering I observed an office window sparkling clean to my right.
The man sitting at the desk got up on seeing me and walked to the office door.
He opened it stuck his head out and queried, 鈥淲addoyuwant鈥�
I asked him. 鈥淥o do ah hev ti see fer a job鈥�
He replied鈥� Come in here young un鈥�
He turned sideways with his back to the door as if fearing I would pick his hip pocket or subject him to an offence.
Then holding the door open and with a sweep of his arm like a Matador teasing a bull, invited me into the office.
His manner reminded me of the bloke in front of the posh hotels, uniform, peaked cap with scrambled egg on the tip, long row of medals.
Except this bloke had on a white shirt, collar and tie, navy blue trousers which were struggling to contain his beer gut and a pair of highly polished black down at the heel shoes.
Hell, this bloke was only a timekeeper, yet he acted as if he owned Hoppers.
So I walked into the office and he beckoned me to a seat.
鈥淲here do you live?鈥� he asked suddenly, pencil poised over a pad.
鈥溾�橢re鈥� I said
鈥淲adduyu mean, ere?鈥� he asked
鈥淏arton鈥� I said.
鈥淪o do I鈥� he said.
鈥淟ucky you, yu don鈥檛 ev tu catch a bus tu get tu werk鈥�, I said
鈥淲here abouts in Barton?鈥� he asked, his voice rising.
鈥淢arket Place鈥� I replied.
鈥淥h, where abouts in Market Place?鈥� he asked, the pencil waiting to stab the paper.
鈥淐orner Caf茅,鈥� I replied. 鈥淣umber eleven鈥�
鈥淚 know where that is鈥�, and he wrote something down.
鈥淪o do I, cos ah live theer鈥� I quipped.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 yuh name?鈥� he queried.
鈥� No, ah鈥檓 no relation tu Whatt鈥� I said
鈥淪o your name is?鈥� rasped he, ignoring my feeble attempt at wit.
鈥淪ame as folk as live theer, said I.
鈥淪o what is their name?鈥� he whispered, dropping the pencil on the table.
鈥淪ame as mine, well it would be app鈥檔.鈥� said I.
He paused and looked a bit trapped.
Then brightened up and grabbing a piece of paper from his desk and retrieving the pencil he came back and said, 鈥淲rite your name, age, and address on there then go up there and report to Matt Black鈥�, and he indicated a door not too far away.
Because I hesitated he asked, 鈥淵ou can write?鈥�
鈥淵is, an鈥� draw鈥� I replied.
鈥淎w a clever bugger, well seein鈥� as 鈥榦w we mek bikes an鈥� not pictures, we can鈥檛 use yer talents, but if yer can manage tu learn somethin鈥� new we can use yer, now gi鈥� us yu name and address, ah 鈥榓vn鈥檛 gor鈥� all dae, ger on wiv鈥� it.
Having being brought up on a Farm I taught myself to watch the body language of animals and it not only kept me out of trouble on the farm but I was to find out later in life it was a handy tool to have.
So too I noticed the change from the King鈥檚 English to the not unpleasant Lincolnshire dialect with its thine, thou, and thee, and dropped letters when someone got uptight and spoke as a native instead of trying to mime a Dux of Oxford University.
Having written my name and address on the paper I departed the office and sauntered to the door the office bloke had indicated and on looking back, the bloke in the office was wiping his neck with his handkerchief and looked like he was about to cry.
I knocked but got no answer so after a long enough wait I opened the door and noise met me.
There was no wonder my knock went unanswered, there was so much noise in this place it was like bedlam.
Then a grey haired bloke was asking me to step outside so we could talk.
Having parleyed for five minutes about this and that he led me to a big building and upon entering, it was a lot quieter than the one we had just left.
We walked up some steps and I found myself looking down at people working on the ground floor.
We were in fact on a kind of balcony that went all round the inside of this huge building.
The people on the floor were assembling bicycles from parts that were placed at points around them.
The grey haired bloke was talking to me.
鈥淪o yu git this bit of stick an鈥� yu grab a rubber grip ah鈥檛a that car鈥檅oord box an鈥� yu whack sum o鈥� this sticky gunk inta it from aht o鈥� that tin theer, an鈥� wi鈥� yu stick yu wiggle it abaht so yu gits enough in tu mek a good job.
An鈥� wen yu鈥檝 put two grips on one handle bar yu put finished job ower theer and it鈥檒l dry aht an鈥� somebody ull cum an鈥� git um when they is ready-----for um-app鈥檔.
After a bit of thought, he continued with,
鈥淎n鈥� when it鈥檚 lunch time don鈥檛 fergit tu put鈥檛 lid on鈥檛 tin o鈥� sticky, 鈥榗os it鈥檒 go 鈥榓rd app鈥檔.
When lunch time came I put the lid on the bike solution and joined the other bloke, about same age as me and we sat and had a sandwich and a drink.
He also had been at the same school as me but he had left the year earlier.
But what a boring job it was and I was getting up at five every morning.
Summer time came round and as the weather warmed I was almost asleep by ten in the morning.
I was startled one day by the bloke who worked near me, 鈥� Ah ain鈥檛 never seen a bloke asleep stood up before, how do you do that without falling over?鈥� he asked grinning.
I was embarrassed and we both laughed as I discovered the glue stick was firmly held by glue inside the rubber handle bar grip.
Friday night was pay night, and for my labours, from six in the morning till six at night, I got the princely sum of eight shillings and six pence.
When I got home I got another shock, my Mother had her hand out before I got through the door.
Having handed over my meagre earnings I cheered up as my Mother handed me a ten bob note.
I was thinking, 鈥業f I put half of it away I can soon save up鈥�
But Mum was in front as usual.
鈥淩ight I have had words with Mr Franklin and you can go get a new bike, that ten shillings is the deposit needed, and you will go pay him two shillings and six pence every week till its paid for.
Mum had spoken.
鈥淢鲍惭鈥�!
鈥淲贬础罢?鈥�
鈥淲hat about me pocket money?鈥�
鈥� You are paying for your new bike with it鈥�
鈥淪鈥攖, I don鈥檛 believe this鈥�
鈥淲HAT DID YOU SAY?鈥�
鈥淜it, I need to clean me bike Mum.
Mum cruised away like one of the dreadnoughts of WW1 steaming out to sea.
Skirts and pinny fluttering in the breeze just like someone was hoisting bunting with a message 鈥淧repare for battle, and action stations, ding, ding, chuffin鈥� ding鈥�.
I got the message and I got lost till Mum cooled off a bit.
I got so I could quote my Mum to a T
鈥淚 spend all my life slaving over a hot stove so you can make pigs of your selves.
What thanks do I get, I wash all the floors, make all the beds, sweep the yard, look after the shop,鈥� and one of Mum鈥檚 favourites was 鈥� And if I get a Policeman calling here it had better not be on account of you Thomas my lad鈥�.
My four sisters could do no wrong, but if Thomas blinked out of turn woe betide him.
I did the poke the stick bit into the glue tin then poke it into the rubber grip and twirl it all around and push the grip onto the handle bar until I was so bored.
And when the Foreman came and reprimanded me once 鈥淪鈥攖, you鈥檝e bin鈥� 鈥榚re for two 鈥榦urs and that鈥檚 all yu鈥� hev got dun.
At first I was upset, I was used to it from my Dad, but I had never been spoken to like this from anyone except perhaps Constable Cook.
So perhaps I could be forgiven for daydreaming as I worked.
I put the stick in the glue tin and turned the stick so it collected more glue then I offered it into the rubber grip.
In my mind it was somewhere else and I hoped it would set so quickly it could not be removed, and the Foreman would not be able to use the toilet and he would blow up with a bang and the walls would turn to a sickly beige colour.
And following boys just left school coming up here to do this boring job would casually be informed that the present d茅cor was gratis a la former Foreman.
So one day I just walked to the Foreman and said 鈥淚 would like to move to another job, and I was mildly surprised when he grinned and said O.K. and did he mumble 鈥淭hank f-k for that?鈥�
I was taken to another building where bicycle frames were being pickled in a hot solution which put a kind of frost on them enabling the enamel that they were to be covered with to stick better without chipping off at the slightest knock.
I was introduced to a tall skinny bloke who was about six feet in height who was wearing a flat cap faded blue shirt and thigh boots, covering most of his front was a orange coloured rubber apron.
鈥楪od, what was I getting into here鈥�? I thought.
The tall bloke took me over to a huge wooden vat full of steaming liquid and I saw bicycle frames suspended from wire hooks hanging from cross members across the top of the vat.
I also saw that the wooden vats were lined with lead and at one point an electric cable was connected to the lead and another was connected to the cross members the frames were hanging from.
From my observations I deduced that an electric current was flowing through the cable into the lead and on into the liquid through the steel bicycle frames.
Then it carried on through the wire hooks and passing along the metal cross members which were insulated from the lead bath they were resting on and finally down the other wire thus making a complete circuit.
In like manner I believe chrome and other types of d茅cors can be deposited onto metal to enhance or protect it.
Near us was another set of vats being looked after by a shorter more thickset man.
I learned later he responded to the name of Tich.
The tall bloke mumbled, 鈥淎h鈥檒l show yo鈥� 鈥榦w uz duz this鈥�.
Taking a bicycle frame from a trolley nearby he took a wire hook from a collection of hooks on a nail on the wall and hooked it on to the frame.
Then offering the frame into the hot liquid of a vat he hung the frame from one of the crossbars.
鈥淒鈥檡鈥檙eckon yu can du that鈥� he asked.
鈥淓r, ah think so鈥� I replied, and took hold of a frame.
But the bloke said, 鈥� 鈥榓ng on, we need tu get yu into some gear afore yu gits wet through鈥�.
I looked a right Charlie dressed in thigh boots, an orange apron and flat cap.
The boots were two sizes too big because I had to walk two paces before the boots moved
They had to cut a bit off the apron because when the boots did finally move I kept tripping over my surplus, apron that is.
So to begin with it was a right comedy of errors, and Tich said he was going home early because he had gut ache through laughing so much.
When the tall bloke asked him if he would be in to work tomorrow, Tich replied, 鈥淎h wouldn鈥檛 miss it, this is better than payin鈥� tu see a bloody circus.鈥�
I didn鈥檛 know it at the time but these two blokes sort of took me under their wing and I did as I was told and kept my mouth shut and we got on well as a team.

End 2

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