大象传媒

Introduction

This article is submitted on behalf of Mr Franklin Derek Tyrer, originally from Preston, Lancashire. He was born on 15 October 1934. Franklin spent his formative years growing up in Preston during the war years. This article concentrates mainly on his memories of his pastimes and how he spent his free time.

Franklin鈥檚 parents were Harold Tyrer and Sarah Jane Tyrer (n茅e Savage). Maureen, Franklin鈥檚 younger sister Maureen was born in 1936. Franklin鈥檚 mother was a younger sister of my own maternal Grandmother, Mrs Cecilia McCrickett (n茅e Savage) so I have known his immediate family most of life. During the war years, Franklin, his parents and sister Maureen used to regularly visit my Great Grandmother, Mrs Sarah Jane Savage and stay with her. I have several family photographs of them all that come from my own maternal grandmother鈥檚 personal photograph collection.

The article uses Franklin鈥檚 own words, with only minor editing. The terms of the 大象传媒 鈥淧eople鈥檚 War鈥� website have been read and are understood.

Earliest memories of generosity and friendship

鈥淧robably because I was a young lad, I remember the war period was a particular happy and carefree time for me. My first recollection of life itself was receiving a silver train set, which you had to wind up, and it used to describe a figure eight, as it uncoiled it's spring. This was bought for me by my Uncle Frank Savage, my Mother's brother, who used to spoil me rotten.

At this time Uncle Frank Savage was by far my favourite uncle. In the early years of he war he was still single. Although he lived in Whitehaven, Cumberland (now Cumbria) he used to be a regular visitor to our house in Preston. So, of course, he used to treat my sister Maureen and me. I often look back at the kindness and great generosity of my Uncle Frank, even to this day.

Apart from having to go to school, which we thought we could do without at the time, as we reached 7 and 8 years of age, pastimes were the thing of bliss. In those days it would be about 1941 and 1942. The war was just that: a War. To us, as very young children it was the same as the Sun and the Moon. We knew it was being fought against the 鈥榚vil鈥� Germans, but we had never known anything different. So, at 7 or 8 years of age, my newly found interests, such as collecting stamps and collecting birds鈥� eggs became a passion. There was never any ill feeling amongst our friends. That is what we all were: friends. In that respect at least, it was a memorable time.

An early lesson in trade

One of these neighbouring friends I had, although not a close friend, was what some people might have called a 'simpleton'. He was somewhat older than most of my other friends, and rather ungainly and gauche. Everybody, at least us children, seemed to call him by the name of 鈥楶opsie鈥�.

Popsie had a small statue, which if my memory serves me right might have been a Buddha. This was about three or four inches high. He convinced me that this Buddha had magical powers. It would grant me my every wish. In exchange for this Buddha, he wanted a very special toy car, which I had. This car could be wound up, and it had indicators, a horn, rubber wheels, and a steering wheel, which turned the car wheels.

So, the deal was done. I returned home to show my mother, what an astute deal her son had accomplished. My Mother went apoplectic! Mother demanded to know who this person was that I had traded with. She raced round to Popsie鈥檚 house, retrieved the car, came back and told me never to speak to poor Popsie again! Mother ruled supreme, and she must never be disobeyed. I realised that I was never cut out to be a dealer and that Popsie was perhaps not the simpleton that people made him out!

A wartime winter wonderland

When the winters came, the snow could be relied upon to fall at least a foot thick, or so it seemed. You could cut channels into it to make a sort of maze, which was great fun as a child. But the main joy about the snow was sledging. This was accomplished with a simple wooden apparatus, which my Grandfather Tyrer made for me. We then trundled this up to the 'Hills and Hollows' a local beauty spot. As its name implies, it is very hilly. We would spend all day sledging down these hills, climbing up them again and then repeating the exercise.

As the snow became flattened, it turned to ice, and then the speeds were very much faster. At the bottom of the Hills was a brook, which if it did not freeze, was where we inevitably finished up. When we returned home soaked and shivering, our Mother forbade us to ever venture there again. We then devised a 鈥榖anking system鈥�, or I should say one of the older lads among our friends, Harold Pennington, did. Basically, Harold created a barrier of snow compressing it into ice and that stopped us sledging into the brook. This ensured our continued pleasure in the snowy winter wonderland, even though it was in defiance of Sarah Jane, my dear mother!

Following on from that, the snow provided another form of sport. Some of the less fortunate kids wore clogs. These were leather 'uppers' and a wooden sole. Attached to the wooden sole were iron 'u' shaped pieces of metal, which were like horse shoes: these were colloquially known as 'coakers'. How this was derived I still do not know. However, when one walked on the soft newly frozen snow, it adhered to these 'coakers', and built up into small stilts.

Sarah Jane, my dear mother, in spite of all my pleas for conformity with the less well off kids, refused to allow me to have these clogs. Finally one year, during an especially heavy fall she relented and she bought me the clogs with the 鈥榗oakers鈥�. I think it was the year 1940. It was sheer glee!!! As this snowfall lasted well into March, my joy knew no bounds. As the snow turned to ice, and became very treacherous, we all became the local equivalent of 鈥淪onja Henje鈥�. This lady was a Hollywood film star and ice skater, who made ice-skating films that we had all seen.

Other childhood pastimes

As the ice melted and winter turned to spring, it was time to collect birds鈥� eggs again. Today, I am full of remorse for this wicked practice. But, a lot of lads collected birds鈥� eggs in those days. Then, as summer approached it was time to go 'Sapping'. This entailed entering, without permission a farmer's orchard and 'nicking' apples. Our favourite was the orchard of Polly Cottam. It became a battle of wits as she used to watch for us. Later, I got to know Polly well. She was, unbeknown to us at the time of our nefarious 'nickings', a friend of my mother: the formidable Sarah Jane Tyrer!

All through the War the Home Guard, 鈥榓mateur volunteer soldiers鈥�, if I can put it that way, used to hold practice routines. This entailed entering the garden and jumping over the walls of houses in pursuit of their enemy. We never did understand who this enemy was, as they all looked alike.

As we found out later the only way of telling them apart was from armbands of different hues they wore. Naturally, we all became members of the Home Guard, at least in our imagination and play. With pieces of wood for guns, and pieces of cloth for gaiters we were not far from what the real Home Guard wore or had as weapons, at least in its early days. Girls were excluded from all our activities at that time, as they were perceived as inferior mortals. But, little did we realise at this time, we would come to change our minds and eventually come to realise girls were actually rather attractive!

Rowing the boat

Towards the end of the War, some of the older lads, used to go to a USA Army and Air force base at Freckleton, a village part way between Preston and Blackpool. Of course we didn鈥檛 realise at the time that the end was almost upon us. Perhaps because we had grown up in the war it probably seemed like we would always be 鈥渁t war鈥�, and we didn鈥檛 know any better. At Freckleton, they used to 鈥榩urloin鈥� long -range 'fuel tanks'. We did not fully understand their purpose, but they were like enormous teardrops, and made of aluminium.

The older lads then cut a hole in the top of these and weighted them down with bricks, or in the case of the brainier lads, with cement or any other ballast. Then, we used to put them on the Preston to Kendal Canal, and use them as rowing boats. This sport was absolutely fabulous! I was always big for my age, but not lanky, and it was natural for me to wish to join this sporting elite. My darling mother, Sarah Jane, soon put the 'dampers' on this desire.

But, rebel that I was already becoming, I soon acquired one of these 'belly tanks' as they were known. My friend Wilf Preston, and I furtively worked on the task of cutting it up and making it into a boat. We used chisels and a metal saw, which had Wilf 'borrowed' from his fathers shed. Soon, we were racing up the canal, with our elders. We had the whale of a time, at least for a while.

But all too soon, my fledging canoeing career was about to be brought to an undignified, embarrassing end. This was brought about, by my omnipresent nemesis: my dear sister Maureen who is 18 months younger than me. She was always ''snitching' on me, for no obvious reason, other than I presume, to ingratiate herself to our mother Sarah Jane. It became a sort of blackmail. At mealtimes Maureen would whistle or sing the 鈥楨ton Boating Song鈥� as I glared at her! In this way she blackmailed me for my treasured Encyclopaedia and among other things, the car that Sarah Jane retrieved from poor old Popsie.

Maureen was having a grand old time with this little venture. The truth, of course, is Maureen and me have always been very close. We are still good friends even though it due to her I never became a famous rower!

A musical interlude

Mother used to take in theatrical boarders, so we grew up in a household where music and dancing was always important. These theatrical people used to go around the country entertaining everyone during the dark days of the war. Almost inevitably, Mother thought a musical background was important to our upbringing.

From the age of five my nemesis Maureen, and myself, were sent to piano lessons. This entailed a weekly visit to William Baldwin Knowles, Music Teacher. This hawk-like, but avuncular figure, used to charge 2/6d each for our weekly lesson. Then, we had to practice for one hour every day. This really went beyond the pale for me. I hated it. But our mother Sarah Jane had spoken, so it had to be!

One day, as all the other lads were off playing football, and I was sitting at the keyboard I thought of a way out of this torture. On the wall was a 鈥楪randmother Clock鈥�. This clock used to decide the start an end of practice. So, without more ado, I got to my feet, and thinking I was being cunning, turned the fingers forward, forgetting that it chimed on the quarter hour. Sarah Jane was on me like a flash, with a slap, that would have knocked Mike Tyson out! She reset the clock and ordered me to practice for two hours. But in later years, I was so grateful for Sarah Jane making me practice playing the piano, as it formed the basis of much enjoyment and profitable pleasure. So, thank you Mother!

Newly found interests after the war

As the end of the War drew to it's inexorable conclusion, swimming became the new passion. Feats of 鈥榙erring-do鈥� followed as a concomitant of this wonderful sport. There were feats like climbing on to the roof of the Swimming Baths and diving into the water when the Pool Guard, one Wilf Napoleon, was otherwise engaged. He did however turn us all into reasonable swimmers.

Swimming became, along with football, a teenage passion. But, these passions were to start only after the war. When we reached the age of puberty after the war, we started taking more of an interest in girls who had always been a hindrance to our pastimes previously. For some reason, in those days all the girls seemed to be called Jean, Joan or other four letter names.

The remarkable footballer Jock Dodds

While on the subject of wartime recreation, I would like to pay a small tribute to a fine man and a good friend by the name of Jock Dodds. Jock was just one of the good friends I made after the war. During and after the war he was a professional footballer, and achieved many feats, now sadly often overlooked. In 1942, playing for Blackpool in a match against Tranmere, Jock scored what was for a long time believed to be the fastest ever hat trick in the first class game. Sixty years later it is still one of the fastest ever achieved in the British game.

In the Tranmere game, I think Jock scored his first three goals 2 minutes 30 seconds. In addition, from memory I think in the same match he scored another six goals making nine in total and missed a penalty! In subsequent games, he scored double hat tricks in two consecutive games. In that one season he scored eighty-nine goals. What a guy! Of course, many of the top footballers like Jock Dodds and Stanley Matthews played in official games in front of big crowds and this kept morale high. If the actual facts of his football career are not written down they should be!

In many respects, modern day footballers owe their vast wages to Jock. I think he took Neil Franklin and many other stars to Bogota. Partly as a result of that, the maximum wage for footballers was eventually lifted. He was 'warned off' all football grounds for seven years, although I think it was later rescinded.

I am proud to have been one of Jock鈥檚 closest friends and partners. According to the broadcaster Michael Parkinson in a tribute not too long ago: 鈥淭hey don't make them like Jock anymore鈥�. All through his life Jock has always been a thorough Gentleman. He played his part during the war and this should be remembered. I am proud to have known him.

Looking back at the war years

In 1945, the carefree days of the war were about to come to an end. We had never really known anything else but war. So this thing they called 鈥楶eace鈥� was something strange and unknown. When it was VE Day, we were staying at my Grandma Savage鈥檚 house in Whitehaven and we celebrated with a bonfire and singsong, so we knew these things called 鈥楶eace鈥� and 鈥榁ictory鈥� were somehow important.

But, as we got older, new vistas were due to come into view. While the years that followed were not quite as carefree, they were equally as enjoyable. But, thank God, you cannot erase the fabulous memories that were enjoyed, during the war. As children, you just seemed to accept what went on around you and carried on doing what children have done since time immemorial.

However, in later years, we came to realise the bittersweet price that had been paid for the carefree times we knew. Whilst we enjoyed the war years, many people were paying for it with their lives鈥�.

Conclusion

After leaving school Franklin had a varied and interesting career working in many different parts of Britain and overseas. He now enjoys a happy retirement living in Spain with his dear wife And茅. Franklin鈥檚 childhood 鈥榥emesis鈥�, his sister Maureen (now Mrs Lewin), still lives in Lancashire and has had her own successful business career.

I would like to thank Franklin for his very interesting, enlightening, and frequently amusing account of some of his wartime experiences. Hopefully, it may help others, especially the younger generations, understand a little what it was like growing up during the war years in Lancashire. It has been a pleasure to write this article on behalf of Franklin.

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