EARLY YEARS & LINEAGE
9244 My Father's Family
I cannot remember my grandfather on my father's side, since he died of blood poisoning when I was one -- literally just a few months before antibiotics were found which would have saved his life. He was in charge of the building operations at Prices, and this was why he and Nana Mercer lived on the village. He had been a builder, or - rather more formally - in charge of the builders, much of his life. I remember being told many times about how he built the Gum Tragasoll, a large factory nearby in Hooton.
His father had also been a foreman builder, a bricklayer, and had been in charge of part of the building of Lime Street station in Liverpool. Other relatives, on my grandmother’s side going back several generations, had been on the railway; including being station masters, very important job in those days. The women, though, typically went into service; again a typical job for unmarried women. As a result, they had all the hangups, with few of the advantages, of being close to the upper-class. Only one had escaped the mould, and had become a director of Brunner Mond -- which later became ICI -- though, even as his name was spoken in hushed tones, we never saw him.
As was the case at the time, when larger families were the norm, my father had two brothers and a sister. His older brother, Joe, had once played for the reserve team of the Liverpool Football Club. Indeed, they had wanted him to join the first team, but in those days their wages were a pittance -- probably less than thirty shillings a week. Instead, he joined the Liverpool council water board, and became senior manager within that. He had a pleasant house in Bebington, but was most notable for his wife -- Hilda -- who was rumoured to have 'entertained' a proportion of the American army during the Second World War. I always disliked her. She insisted on hugging me, the worst thing you can do to a small boy, showering me with the musky powder she wore. I hated it. They had a son, my cousin Barry, of whom I saw little. Having fathered an illegitimate child, he had to run away to America where he stayed.
My father's sister, Phyllis, was apparently a very vivacious when young. She married Bill, who was a salesman -- or at least a traveller as it was called in those days. I guess he was a very typical traveller, and was full of the sort of stories of salesman tell. He was also unreliable like many salesman. He and my father, of course, ran G & M chemicals -- but Bill was always changing to the products and never gave the existing ones much chance. Ultimately he died relatively young and left massive debts. Fortunately Phyliis got good legal advice was able to avoid the most of these. He was also very musical running a dance band, he played the saxophone, and his band was a standard fixture at Grosvenor hotel, the best in Chester. He also used to regularly feature on radio -- especially on Workers Playtime - and we used to listen out avidly for this.
My father's younger brother was the spoilt child of the family. Barry eventually went away to sea, this may had some effect on his sexuality, for my mother was convinced that in later life he was a closet homosexual -- in fact she thought he was a fairly open homosexual, bringing his boyfriends home. He was not very successful as a seaman, though he did bring back some souvenirs -- including a marmoset monkey which was the family pet. He was later invalided out of the war, with a nervous breakdown; which was understandable since he was the pilot of a boat which was target for bombing by the RAF and lived on his nerves in case they actually hit it. After the war he eventually went to work for Billy Butlin at Pwllheli, where he was in charge of the shops and bars. This was a very responsible job, since - once he had got the campers locked away on site - Billy made most of his money from the shops and especially the bars.
We used to occasionally visit Barry at Pwllheli, and he used to come home for Christmas. It was at Christmas that his job was particularly profitable. He got vast amounts of gifts from his suppliers. In particular one supplier used to give him an envelope in which there was £500 in crisp fivers. It should be pointed out that, at that time in the 1950s, £500 was as much as a manager would earn in a year! Ultimately he retired to open a CTN, sweet shop. Like most shops it was not particularly profitable, but with living accommodation attached he led a reasonable life. Once I left for university my mother went to work for him, serving behind the counter. I think this was to get over the vacuum I left rather than for any money -- since Barry was very careful with his money!
I got the impression that my father was the neglected one of family. He had a an Alsatian called Denny, on which he lavished all of the love which was probably denied him by everyone else. The family was peculiar in one respect. His father was Roman Catholic and his mother was Church of England. This meant that my father was in theory brought up as Catholic, though he was actually Church of England – at one stage he was the only Roman Catholic in the Masons in his area!
He went to some St Xaviers School, in Liverpool, run by the Jesuits. I never heard much about that. After leaving school, and joining Prices in the laboratory, he got some qualifications at night school. Ultimately, when the opportunity arose, he moved out of the laboratory into the factory where he became a foreman and then supervisor; running a section of the factory - the fatty alcohol department -- which essentially distilled fatty alcohol from whale oil. He also, took over some of the new plants being brought in. At Prices he was always independent and was chairman of the supervisor's association – at which time he worked with Clive Jenkins who was the local union representative. Ultimately he was promoted to become a junior departmental manager, though he always felt that he was not fairly treated by the management. He was great worker, but was not always respected by everyone above him. From my own experience I sympathise with him. I also sympathize now with the problems I caused; where my mother wanted me to do better than him – a difficult challenge any child.
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