大象传媒

After a couple of unsuccessful interviews with firms who had approached the Birmingham School of Print鈥檚 Head, Leonard Jay, for possible apprentices, I was employed by Watkin Gabb (Printers) Ltd, 88 Vyse Street, Hockley. After a short probationary period my Indenture of Apprenticeship, then a term of seven years, was signed by my Father, myself, and my employer, JC Kelland, on my 16th Birthday, 26th May 1941. I well remember that my Father, in his lunch break, arrived early and so we walked around the block until the appointed time.

Over 90% of Print Houses employed 10 or less, and Watkin Gabb was no exception: two journeymen Compositors, now plus me; one journeyman Machine minder (operator) and an apprentice; one woman in the Bindery; a Secretary and the Boss 鈥� all working together to produce commercial printed matter.

One of the first things I had to do was overcome my fear of the telephone! When the office was unattended the phone was switched through to the Composing Department. Unaccustomed to the instrument I found myself dealing with customers and suppliers. As new lad I made the tea, and in winter looked after the fire. We had a glass roof 鈥� our job required good light 鈥� cold in winter but hot in summer despite an annual coating of 鈥榳hitewash鈥� on the outside.

The roof not having opaque cover didn鈥檛 comply with 鈥榖lack-out鈥� regulations, restricting our working hours in winter, the working week consisting of five days and Saturday morning. Not that I as an apprentice worked five days. One day each week I attended the Birmingham School of Printing, being expected to spend two or three evenings in further study at the school for future City and Guilds examinations. We were taught imposition, colour, history of print, typographical layout, and other related subjects such as mono-and linotype setting and casting, letterpress machining, bindery, block-making, lithography, photogravure and paper-making including use and recognition. The Head, a well-known stickler entrusted me with the setting (by hand of course) of some special tract and at one point even amended his script so that the lines and pages were pleasing to the eye.

Back in the 鈥榬eal鈥� world, I helped the Bindery with collating and numbering, and the Boss with deliveries. Life wasn鈥檛 dull when he drove. At traffic lights or any hold-up he continually tested his brakes, and my nerves. He behaved no differently out of the car, rushing into the department, handing over an order, and dashing out again as if the place were on fire. But he was a great boss. After running up several flights of stairs with parcels and back down to the car for more 鈥� two or three customers were without lifts 鈥� an ice-cream was the order of the day. He would always try to answer my trade questions as we travelled between calls, and once a week rewarded me with 2/6d for cleaning his car (in his time).

In June 1941 Ernest Brown, Minister of Health, writes to parents imploring them not to bring back their evacuated children: 鈥淵ou will have noticed that the Enemy is changing his tactics. He is now concentrating heavier air-raids on one or two towns at a time鈥︹��

To help keep us occupied it was decreed by the Government that the older children join a Youth Club and I participated in the activities of the club set up in Starbank Road School. We decided to produce a play and while awaiting a producer about ten of us practised our lines at a member鈥檚 house. I took on the role of temporary producer. The play centred around a number of people stranded between floors in a lift. One line, spoken by Bob Biddle (Best Man at our Wedding) as he put his arm around a girl鈥檚 waist, was 鈥淚t鈥檚 getting close in here鈥�. I remember it well because what we thought as funny horrified the appointed producer who promptly cut out the sexual innuendo. Now she horrified us.

During this time I was selected to take part in a (Pageant) play. For a number of Saturdays prior to the performance I cycled to Water Orton where in the garden of the 鈥楲ady of the Manor鈥� the (male) producer had me practise 鈥榯hrowing my voice鈥�. The performance, held in Birmingham Town Hall, was before a packed audience mainly from Youth Clubs. As we performers stood in position on stage, I, representing 鈥楨ternal Youth鈥� and dressed in a simple white gown, saw electric sparks earth themselves from my finger tips. Speaking my first lines 鈥淓nough, enough, Old Man鈥︹�� the phenomenon ceased.

On Saturday evenings a dance was held in Starbank School Hall. Eventually many American troops found their way to the dance, adding to the British troops on leave and civilians. Although there was no shortage of partners for my Cousin Mavis (Mason) who attended regularly with her girl friends, it was she mainly who courageously risked both feet to teach me the basic steps of the Waltz, Quickstep and Slow Foxtrot: knowledge which has brought me great pleasure ever since.

When at work I was earning 7/6d per week. My 鈥楿ncle鈥� Harry (Bradshaw) asked if I was interested in earning some pocket money by Firewatching once a week for Birmingham Box (not far from Watkin Gabb), where he held a managerial position. The other three firewatchers enjoyed playing games of cards in the evenings and had no objection, once I had signed 鈥榦n鈥�, to me going home and rejoining them later 鈥� or sooner if the siren sounded. I travelled home by bus (the 16A went straight across town from Hockley to Small Heath) ate, washed, changed, enjoyed a short evening out, returned home, changed, then cycled back to Hockley. We took turns patrolling and watching overnight, dozing on the palettes of cardboard, occasionally in the company of a rat or two. Usually after the warning siren, came the pulsating drone of enemy aircraft and from the roof could be seen the fires and explosions. Fortunately not once while on duty did I have to contend with bombs of any sort. For this duty I received 10 shillings per week, a third more than my weekly wage. Come morning I cycled back home to Starbank Road, washed and changed, (chatting briefly to Father who left first for his work), ate, then caught the bus in Hobmoor Road to Hockley for work.

Moving to a Co-op club situated near the Yew Tree pub at Yardley I made new friends including Gerald (Roberts) with whom I still play snooker. We attended other branches鈥� functions especially in the City Centre and Erdington.

I also spent many happy hours at the YWCA Stechford 鈥� gender rules were waived 鈥� playing table-tennis on the hall鈥檚 polished floor, ideal for ballroom dancing. Quickly tired of doing the splits and personal injury I soon found appropriate footwear!

Cycling was another favourite activity and club members often organised pleasure trips into the countryside. At other times I cycled with Charlie Neill and his friend Ted. Charlie lived a few doors down the other side of Starbank Road School. By coincidence he was also chosen for Vittoria Street School. We travelled together by bus, and when together at Tewkesbury, cycled home together.

From Tewkesbury I cycled to see my brother Harold, and on another occasion to see my cousin Roy evacuated to Drybrook near Cinderford in the Forest of Dean. On the second visit to see Harold I had the company of Charlie and Ted. Members of the YHA we stayed the Friday night at their Malvern Hostel then continued to a hostel near Symonds Yat. The farm where Harold stayed was at the top of a long steep hill above Whitchurch. It took effort and ages to reach the top, where we found Harold fit and well, now sounding really Welsh. The journey down to Whitchurch lasted, excitingly, but 鈥榮econds鈥�.

We travelled back to Birmingham in one day, starting out early in pouring rain. In Gloucester we found a caf茅 where the waitress not only provided a cup of tea and a bun, but a bucket and mop so that we could wring out our socks. In heavy rain we reached Tewkesbury. The YMCA Warden, remembering me, gave us shelter and lit the fire 鈥� I slightly scorched the jacket my Uncle Harold had lent me for the journey. Having made a brief visit to see the Leach鈥檚 where Mrs Leach sewed a button back onto the jacket, we battled on through the unrelenting rain. At Evesham, the sun suddenly appeared. Drying out, the three of us literally steamed through Alcester, shortly afterwards stopping for a much needed pint of bitter shandy. By the time I reached home Mum and Dad were away to my Grandparents, but my dinner was between two plates on a saucepan of water ready to be heated on the gas cooker.

Long-standing friends of my parents, Mr & Mrs Lewis, living in Fosbrook Road, running parallel to Starbank Road, had a son Alf and a daughter Joan. I was often out with Alf and his neighbours鈥� sons George Bithell and Sidney Prince. At Bierton Road School, prior to my move to Vittoria Street, we usually travelled and played together.

Jim Knowles, another club member, let me ride round the block on his new motorbike, a 鈥榁elocette鈥� but the practice came to an abrupt halt upon call-up.

Prior to call-up I managed to complete my current design of a folding Business Card at the School of Printing. Upon return, after demobilisation, I was surprised and delighted to be handed my design together with a copy of the printed product, kept safely for me by one of the teachers, Mr Moseley.

I had passed, 鈥楽econd Class鈥�, my Intermediate City and Guilds examination, but realised that all would need to be learned again upon my return. In fact not until 1949 did I make up some of the lost time by passing the 鈥楩inal鈥� exam, but before then other experiences lay ahead.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of J.F. Humphreys and has been added to the site with his permission. J.M. Humphreys fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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