Alan Duffy 1937 to 1952
Introduction
I was born on the 28th April 1937 at Springfield Maternity Home on Preston New Road, Blackburn. My parents were Jack and Edith Duffy. He was a stripper and grinder in a spinning mill and my mother was a weaver in a weaving mill. A few weeks later I was Christened in St Oswald’s Church at Knuzden with the name John Alan Duffy, a name which has proved confusing to other people throughout my life, since, at school or on legal documents I am referred to as John yet my parents and all my friends in fact anyone who knows me call me Alan. My parents told me that there had always been a John in my dad’s family, it was a tradition! But they liked the name Alan better? My first home was at number one Perone Crescent at Intack, then we moved to 13 Bicknell Street near the centre of Blackburn and then to 4 Bicknell Street. These moves were before my baby memories developed so all of this story will be starting from the age of four, in the year 1941 when World War 2 was raging and looking touch and go as to who might be the ultimate winner.
Sometimes people ask us “what is your earliest memory”? In my case, I used to say with confidence, “my first day at school aged four” But I was wrong, because when researching for my Autobiography “My Ladder of Life” I discovered my first memory was when a Nazi bomb dropped about three hundred yards away from our home on to a shop on Ainsworth Street during the last war, the blast killing two people and demolishing the shop. I was in a neighbour’s air raid shelter at the time with my mother, and my Auntie Lily who was visiting us. It is still oh so clear even now.
At that point in this history my father had been conscripted into the Royal Artillery Regiment at the out-break of World War 2 in 1939. By the time I was four he had been promoted to the rank of sergeant in that regiment, in charge of a Bofors anti-aircraft gun and its crew. He was missing from our family all through the war, only getting two or three days leave about three times a year. He was de-mobbed in 1946.
My mother was still weaving during the war, and we must have had very little money. I was put into the care of a lovely lady I learnt to call Auntie Nelly who lived three or four doors up our street whilst mum was at work. She later prepared me for school each day whilst my mum worked. Auntie Nellie was the most popular lady in the bottom section of our street. She will be mentioned many times later in my tale.
Location
I lived as mentioned previously, at number 4 Bicknell Street, there was no number two for Architectural reasons. The end house, on Lime Street, bordered our house thus, where number two should have been the builders had constructed a replica doorway and down stair and up stair windows frames but bricked them in. Our house and numbers 6, 8 and 10 were many years later, demolished to provide a children’s play area which in later years became defunct.
Bicknell Street connects Lime Street to Altom Street, where St. John’s School was situated, then upwards to London Road then further up to Wimberley Street. It was quite a climb from top to bottom. When our street was built it was one of several streets built parallel to it on the slopes of a very big hill. Standing right at the bottom of our street further up Lime Street to your left is Bold Street to your right is Oswald Street (where Bernard my best friend to be lived) The next streets to the right are connected through up to Wimberley Street from Randal Street and are named Balaclava Street, Charlotte Street then Inkerman Street. Incidentally all these streets were named after battles in the Crimean war. Randal Street was in those days the only street for miles around that had tarmac coating. It still runs from Shear Brow (Limbrick) right through to join Victoria Street This quite large area was our “Village” where we played, met friends and visited the many shops local to this area, most long gone. But more about this later. At this stage in my story, I am just trying to put my reader into a physical place to understand where my home was located in the town and how and who I grew up with.
Education
On this my first day at St John’s C. of E. school on Altom Street, my mother took me the short walk from the bottom of Bicknell Street to the school. I remember lots of other children, boys and girls, queuing up with their mothers to register for the infant’s class. Our teacher was to be Miss Rostron, who, I later found was a lovely, kind, and friendly lady who would help start up our education. Whilst me and my mum waited for our turn to be registered, she started talking to a neighbour – Mrs. Doris McNulty from the next street to ours (Oswald Street). I didn’t know who she was at the time. She was registering her son Bernard. From that moment of our first meeting playing on the floor whilst our mums became friends so did we! He and I were friends all through our childhood, teens to the time we both met the girls of our dreams and got married and beyond. Bernard’s dad was an iron founder, so like my uncles, he was not called to war. He was also called Bernard. He and Doris also had a younger son called John.
Our School
St. John’s C. of E. Primary School was housed in a large imposing two-storey Victorian building. The foundation stone was, I think, laid in 1844, this date was emblazoned in large Roman numerals across the top face of the front of the building which occupied a very large rectangular piece of land. The long side bordering Altom Street and the two shorter sides Bold Street and Bicknell Street.
There were two entrances, one for boys and one for girls, with cloakrooms at each entrance. The two large, flagged playgrounds, one for boys one for girls, were separated by a large stone wall.
The ground floor of the building was for the younger children while the upper floor for the older children. All floors were made from wooden planks and when we played on the floor, we regular got what we called “spells” in our hands. These were easily removed by the teacher with a sewing needle.
Classrooms on both floors of the school were divided by moveable screens. If we had a social event such as a concert, pantomime or presentations they could be pulled back to provide sufficient space for the audience attending. All toilets were outside in the yards. A large separate meeting room was built on the Bicknell Street side of the building, this was used for social gatherings, Sunday school, Cubs and Boy Scouts, Brownies and Girl Guides etc. It had cooking facilities and could be and was used for many events.
The school was affiliated to the wonderful, listed building of St. John’s the Evangelist Church in town, sadly damaged by fire a few years ago.
As we grew older some of us boys could join the church choir. Church choirs in those days were male voices only. St. John’s choir was second locally only to the Blackburn Cathedral Choir and once or twice sang on Northern Radio. All the main religious occasions like Christmas and Easter were well attended as were the annual Nativity Plays. I was once asked to play the young son of the inn keeper who showed Mary and Joseph to the stable. I felt really important and, to this day, I remember my line “this way master”, amazing isn’t it that, aged 87 that I can still remember that?
Our school had a unique feature (for schools in those days), which was a very large playing field. It was called the Cannon Nash playing field. It was about half a mile from the school, high up Shear Brow, above Wimberley Street. It was, in fact, a large sports ground where cricket, football and athletics took place before the war. It was tiered with a fine Pavilion, it had catering facilities, changing rooms and toilets. Once a year the church congregation, boy scouts, girl guides and the school children would solemnly walk up the steep hill, past the school, to the playing field carrying flags and huge Banners from the church. This was our field day, it was always memorable, with lots of events, such as three-legged races, sack race, egg and spoon etc., plus running throwing and jumping events for all the family. The playing field is a housing estate today. Cannon Nash was the vicar of St. John’s for many years before my time, I was told he made a generous donation for this field when he was vicar of the church. The Vicar of the church during my time was the Reverend Swan, he was a tall, impressive figure, he came regularly into school to talk to us. School and church were very much connected, and even when the war was raging “the powers that be” tried to maintain some normality between church and school. Despite everything that was going on and our fathers away fighting the war, everyone kept it together with the kind of spirit rarely found today. After the war a young curate whose name, unfortunately, I don’t remember was appointed to help the vicar. He was instantly popular with boys and girls alike; he had during the war been the rear gunner of a Lancaster bomber. He was handsome, athletic and heroic and if he stopped to talk a crowd soon gathered around him. He helped run the Sunday school on Sunday afternoons and made attendance there very popular. What a lovely character he was!
During my childhood there were Air Raid Shelters in the playgrounds and outside the school, on Bicknell Street and above Altom Street. Also, there was a huge tank of water I think they were called “Thomson Tanks” They were built with square interlocking iron sections which could be constructed quickly, and were covered to stop access to children, they were to be seen all over our town in case of Nazi bombing attacks. They were called Emergency Water Supplies, large signs were painted on nearby walls with a large Arrow painted on it with the letters EWS to direct the Fire Brigade to the nearest water supply. These signs were painted all over the town and all the other towns the only one remaining in Blackburn today I believe, is on a wall on Buncer Lane which someone maintains, possibly the council.
After the School was built, a garden was laid out with shrubs bordering the Altom Street side, there was iron railings and a huge ash tree at each end of the garden. I remember a ceremony taking place with the whole school including ex-pupils, brass band and council dignitaries celebrating the Centenary of the school, I think this was about 1946.
The iron railings had been removed in the early part of the war as part of the war effort, as were the railings from Corporation and Queens Parks, anyone who had railings round their gardens had these removed.
The school was demolished to accommodate the building of a Mosque in the past twenty years.
Living at 4 Bicknell Street
Our home at number 4 Bicknell Street was virtually the same as the other houses on our street and most of the other terraced streets in our area, around the whole of Blackburn for that matter. Most comprised of a living room at the back of the building, with the front room, in many cases, just used for storage, most people then couldn’t afford to furnish them. At the end of the war these were carpeted and furnished with three-piece suites and sideboard. In most houses the kitchen and living room were one. In this case the front room might be fitted with chairs and a table. All the houses had two bedrooms and a tiny box room above the stairwell. Over the years many tenants (most of these properties were rented) had made minor alterations. Flush toilets were outside in the back yard. Our home had a kitchen in an out-building, a lean-to, a bit like a glass house (conservatory) very cold in winter! The toilet was in a very small building in the back yard with a pull chain operation.
At night most people used chamber pots which were in each bedroom. Typically, there were two bedrooms, a main larger double room and a small single room. Our house also had a small bathroom off the main bedroom with bath and hand wash basin but amazingly no toilet.
The council emptied the dustbins every week. The main residue in the bins were ashes from the coal fires which all houses had. Food packaging was non-existent and food leftovers were given to the dog or burnt on the fire along with anything else that would burn and help to heat the house. The dust man, wearing a huge leather cover complete with metal studs protecting is shoulders and back would pick up the bin, lift it on to his shoulder, carry it down the yard, empty it into the lorry then put the bin back where he had picked it up from. If the yard door was accidentally locked (usually by a sliding bar in a bracket attached to the door but pushed into a socket in the gate post) it was not unusual for a dust man to climb over and gain access to the bin this way. They never left a bin unemptied. At some houses where dogs were present this promise was difficult to full fill. In our case, when I was in my early teens, my parents bought me a dog. It was a Border collie she was given the inspirational name of Lassie (a very prominent film at cinemas just then!) She would let anyone come into the house or back yard but once in, she was not too keen on letting them back out again, on one occasion capturing three dust bin men who were delayed a while whilst another neighbour went across the road to the weaving mill to get my mother to let them out of the yard. She had come home at lunch time and let the dog into the yard but had been distracted and returned to work without letting her back in the house.
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