Sten Thomas
proper brummie kid
I'm Stan Thomas, and I'm over 87 now. I was a mechanic along with John Taviner from 1962 until 1966 and we serviced and repaired all the Morris LD2 delivery vans and manager's and rep's cars at the garage in Milk Street, and were paid £14 a week. The caretaker's name there was Harry Pride, and his daughter Pat worked up in the main offices. His missus used to get "dolled up" to go up the town, for which she earned the nick-name of the "Duchess of Digbeth".
Harry was paid a pittance - but occassionaly old "Snuffy Bill" Nicolson (a nick-name derived from his habit of taking snuff) would come in the warehouse and give him some cast-off clothing or shoes, such was the neo-victorian attitude of master and servant which still prevailed. Once John and I had to deliver a new car to "Mr John" Nicolson's house, and we were given a shilling (5p) each as a tip - and I was also given a broom to sweep the garage out.
Up in the corner of the garage was a vintage Rolls Royce 20/25 covered in dust sheets which John and I were constantly "reminded" under strict instructions (well, threatened actually) that on no account we must touch it. Eventually Bill Nicolson decided to sell it, but could they get it to run? No way - it just popped and banged a few times before it was ignominiously towed away! ..................... but we never did hear back if and when they found the potato rammed up the exhaust pipe.
Percy was the "odd job man" and manned the petrol pumps, along with Harry Pride. Percy was rather a sad person who had never spoken to his wife for years although they still lived in the same house, and he drove a Ford Popular. Although he had given years of loyal service, dead on his 65th birthday it just unceremoniously ended, and the day he left he came to work with a few belongings to go to live with his sister. However, John and I had banded together beforehand to make sure he left with a fitting but secret "company" retirement present - probably the finest fully-overhauled Ford Popular anyone could wish for! We never heard from Percy again. How sad.
The stories are legion, one being that Harry Pride was serving petrol once when the car went up in flames - and he quickly drove it into the street to burn, and for which the company gave him a gold watch - without ever knowing that at least according to the witnesses present, it was probably caused by Harry's fag that had dropped into the tank!!
The M.D's name was Fred Baker, Ray Hooper was Company Secretary and Bill Trout was The personnel manager, all of whom were the victims of a night of long knives when an ensuing merger with Richard Lunt came about. "Ben" Gun ran the shirt department, and Len White did all the maintenance jobs. A chap named Marshal looked after the underground car park up in the main building and he'd ring down to tip us off if any manager was on his way to Milk Street.
Among the more notable reps was John ("Fangio") Fewins who drove a Morris Minor. We had to hide him down the pit one day because he cut up some enraged chap who followed him into the garage threatening to "smash his face in". Some time later he came into the garage out of puff from running - as he had hit another car on a crosroads and just bolted in panic. John and I had to go out driving around the local streets until we found the wreck!.
Once, John and I stuffed some overalls with rag to make a life-like dummy lying under a jacked-up car with the legs sticking out, complete with a leadlight and spanners and a pull-string which operated a hammer- and everyone coming into the workshop half-crouched down to talk to it - including the Managing Director. It really was a laugh-a-minute working there.
We had about thirty reps, among them was Mary Green, who drove a Morris Traveller (or a Tudor foulpen as they were nicknamed in those days) - which I collected new for her from Locomotors and cost £545. Then there was Johnny Sheasby and one we called "popeye", and Malcolm Cambell - the heart-throb among the ladies. The Dispatch Manager was Ron Thatcher, but he was replaced by "comic" Cutts - a Major straight from the army so they said, who began by alienating all the drivers by taking out a van to "time" their runs. He was a right pillock.
True story! He phoned us once whilst out "timing" the delivery runs saying he had a puncture - so we whizzed out taking an hydraulic jack and a replacement wheel which we kept ready for such an occasion. We found the van, but not him - so we quickly fitted the replacement wheel and then he came strolling down the road. So with a straight face, I said "Where's the puncture"? and he looked down and said (and I kid you not) "Could it have blown itself up again", whilst John was in convulsions of laughter behind our van. Army Major - no wonder it took six years to win World War Two.
However, in 1966 B & N merged with Richard Lunt, and as they also had two mechanics, I was "displaced" because I was the only one with some formal qualification and therefore considered "the easiest one" to get another job - but for which I successfully brought an action for unfair dismissal in an Industrial Tribunal which awarded me a redundancy payment of four weeks wages. Rather a sad and unpleasant way to end my otherwise happy association with the company.
However, whilst preparing the procedings, I had to attend Waverley Road Employment Exchange in Small Heath - where I saw a rather despondant figure shuffing along in the queue to get his dole money. It was Bill Trout, the Personnel manager. I could not resist it - as I walked past him I reflected in a loud mutter "My God, how the mighty have fallen"!
John Taviner (who sadly died about 18 months ago) went on to become a self-employed mobile mechanic, and I became Company Engineer for a major national brewery, then when the empire was broken up in the mid-1980's with mass redundancies, I became a self-employed Transport Consultant to the legal profession providing expert testimony in the civil and criminal courts for the next 35 years, from which emerged my daughter's desire to be a barrister, and eventually become a Judge.
Looking back, I still relish those now distant days when there was far more camaraderie and personal contact with those you worked with and going to work was a joy, whereas now I'm told you just sit in front of a VDU screen emailing someone you can see the other side of the office! As Confucious said over two thousand years ago,"He who choses a job he loves will never work a day in his life".
Sadly though, looking back it was all so very long ago, but then again, the memories make it seem as if it were only yesterday.
Harry was paid a pittance - but occassionaly old "Snuffy Bill" Nicolson (a nick-name derived from his habit of taking snuff) would come in the warehouse and give him some cast-off clothing or shoes, such was the neo-victorian attitude of master and servant which still prevailed. Once John and I had to deliver a new car to "Mr John" Nicolson's house, and we were given a shilling (5p) each as a tip - and I was also given a broom to sweep the garage out.
Up in the corner of the garage was a vintage Rolls Royce 20/25 covered in dust sheets which John and I were constantly "reminded" under strict instructions (well, threatened actually) that on no account we must touch it. Eventually Bill Nicolson decided to sell it, but could they get it to run? No way - it just popped and banged a few times before it was ignominiously towed away! ..................... but we never did hear back if and when they found the potato rammed up the exhaust pipe.
Percy was the "odd job man" and manned the petrol pumps, along with Harry Pride. Percy was rather a sad person who had never spoken to his wife for years although they still lived in the same house, and he drove a Ford Popular. Although he had given years of loyal service, dead on his 65th birthday it just unceremoniously ended, and the day he left he came to work with a few belongings to go to live with his sister. However, John and I had banded together beforehand to make sure he left with a fitting but secret "company" retirement present - probably the finest fully-overhauled Ford Popular anyone could wish for! We never heard from Percy again. How sad.
The stories are legion, one being that Harry Pride was serving petrol once when the car went up in flames - and he quickly drove it into the street to burn, and for which the company gave him a gold watch - without ever knowing that at least according to the witnesses present, it was probably caused by Harry's fag that had dropped into the tank!!
The M.D's name was Fred Baker, Ray Hooper was Company Secretary and Bill Trout was The personnel manager, all of whom were the victims of a night of long knives when an ensuing merger with Richard Lunt came about. "Ben" Gun ran the shirt department, and Len White did all the maintenance jobs. A chap named Marshal looked after the underground car park up in the main building and he'd ring down to tip us off if any manager was on his way to Milk Street.
Among the more notable reps was John ("Fangio") Fewins who drove a Morris Minor. We had to hide him down the pit one day because he cut up some enraged chap who followed him into the garage threatening to "smash his face in". Some time later he came into the garage out of puff from running - as he had hit another car on a crosroads and just bolted in panic. John and I had to go out driving around the local streets until we found the wreck!.
Once, John and I stuffed some overalls with rag to make a life-like dummy lying under a jacked-up car with the legs sticking out, complete with a leadlight and spanners and a pull-string which operated a hammer- and everyone coming into the workshop half-crouched down to talk to it - including the Managing Director. It really was a laugh-a-minute working there.
We had about thirty reps, among them was Mary Green, who drove a Morris Traveller (or a Tudor foulpen as they were nicknamed in those days) - which I collected new for her from Locomotors and cost £545. Then there was Johnny Sheasby and one we called "popeye", and Malcolm Cambell - the heart-throb among the ladies. The Dispatch Manager was Ron Thatcher, but he was replaced by "comic" Cutts - a Major straight from the army so they said, who began by alienating all the drivers by taking out a van to "time" their runs. He was a right pillock.
True story! He phoned us once whilst out "timing" the delivery runs saying he had a puncture - so we whizzed out taking an hydraulic jack and a replacement wheel which we kept ready for such an occasion. We found the van, but not him - so we quickly fitted the replacement wheel and then he came strolling down the road. So with a straight face, I said "Where's the puncture"? and he looked down and said (and I kid you not) "Could it have blown itself up again", whilst John was in convulsions of laughter behind our van. Army Major - no wonder it took six years to win World War Two.
However, in 1966 B & N merged with Richard Lunt, and as they also had two mechanics, I was "displaced" because I was the only one with some formal qualification and therefore considered "the easiest one" to get another job - but for which I successfully brought an action for unfair dismissal in an Industrial Tribunal which awarded me a redundancy payment of four weeks wages. Rather a sad and unpleasant way to end my otherwise happy association with the company.
However, whilst preparing the procedings, I had to attend Waverley Road Employment Exchange in Small Heath - where I saw a rather despondant figure shuffing along in the queue to get his dole money. It was Bill Trout, the Personnel manager. I could not resist it - as I walked past him I reflected in a loud mutter "My God, how the mighty have fallen"!
John Taviner (who sadly died about 18 months ago) went on to become a self-employed mobile mechanic, and I became Company Engineer for a major national brewery, then when the empire was broken up in the mid-1980's with mass redundancies, I became a self-employed Transport Consultant to the legal profession providing expert testimony in the civil and criminal courts for the next 35 years, from which emerged my daughter's desire to be a barrister, and eventually become a Judge.
Looking back, I still relish those now distant days when there was far more camaraderie and personal contact with those you worked with and going to work was a joy, whereas now I'm told you just sit in front of a VDU screen emailing someone you can see the other side of the office! As Confucious said over two thousand years ago,"He who choses a job he loves will never work a day in his life".
Sadly though, looking back it was all so very long ago, but then again, the memories make it seem as if it were only yesterday.
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