Some Brief Memories of Aberdare
in the
1930s and 1940s
(Including the School and its Masters)
by
Malcolm B Lloyd
THE TOWN
For me, Aberdare was a good place to live. It was rightly
described as “Queen of the Valleys”. The central shopping area of the
town was a hub of three main streets: High Street, Canon Street and Victoria
Square, from which Commercial Street, Market Street and Cardiff Street
radiated. It was not too crowded a town, with little vehicular traffic
since few people had cars. Public transport included buses and trains.
The Aberdare Urban District Council buses, in their cream and brown livery,
serviced Aberdare and its surroundings, including Trecynon, Abernant,
Cwmbach, and so on, as far as Hirwaun up the valley, and Abercwmboi down
the valley. The double-deckers would squeeze past each other in Canon
Street, before the one-way system began. Only single-deckers used High
Street and Victoria Square. The Red & White and Western Welsh buses
were the long distance coaches, as it were, travelling as far as Swansea
and Cardiff and other, to me, distant places. Both companies had garages
in Aberdare: Red and White on the Gadlys, and Western Welsh opposite where
I lived in High Street.
Some shops I remember particularly are:
Parr’s the newsagent1, for the Beano and Dandy, the ‘penny dreadfuls’,
and the Wizard, Rover, and Hotspur , the ‘tuppeny terribles’. It was in
the Wizard that I read about the extraordinary athletic prowess of Wilson,
who live on the Yorkshire moors and performed his feats dressed in a one
piece, black, homespun singlet. He first awakened my interest in athletics.
Lewis the shoeshop2, owned by Mr. Lewis, a short well dressed man,
usually wearing jodhpurs and always with well polished shoes. His maxim
was that however down on your luck you were, you could always polish your
shoes. He had a twisted, waxed moustache which extended an inch or so
either side of his upper lip. His assistant, Mr. Jones, later inherited
the business from him. Here my mother bought my first shoes: StartRites.
All my shoes were bought here during the 1930s and 40s. The last pairs
I bought there were when I visited Aberdare in the late 1990s, just before
this shop closed and was demolished.
Watson’s the photographer3, in Commercial Street, was where, as
a young lad, I had many photographs taken. I particularly remember the
one of me in a Welsh Guards uniform (Figure 1). I went as a guard to the
annual Hospital Ball, in the Girls’ Grammar School on Cwmbach Road. That
year I won first prize, with my picture in the Aberdare leader. |
Servini’s Café was on the opposite side of Cardiff
Road. On Saturday mornings, during the long summer holidays, the upstairs
tearoom was the venue for some sixth form students of both sexes, as well
as some past students. There we tackled the Daily Telegraph prize crossword,
whilst nursing cups of coffee. On one occasion, we actually won a set
of bridge playing cards from the Telegraph, which we donated to Headmaster
Reynolds, via his son Dickie, who sometimes attended the gathering. T.B. Reynolds
was, apparently, an avid bridge player.
The Trap Surgery, on the corner of Abernant and
Cwmbach Roads, was the realm of Dr. Harry Banks, our family doctor,
who lived in Ty Mawr, High Street. The surgery was paved with stone slabs
and had wooden benches along three walls. It reeked, appropriately, of
carbolic soap. Dr. Banks, who was a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons
of Edinburgh, a rare qualification, I believe, for a small town doctor
in those days, removed my appendix at Aberdare Hospital, in 1940. It was
my impression that Dr. Banks was even more revered than the average doctor
was in those days. He was not so easy to approach for a “doctor’s certificate”,
as some doctors were, particularly a Dr. Wilson whose surgery was in Elizabeth
Street, who I remember had the reputation of handing them out willy-nilly.
The cinemas in Aberdare
These were a great attraction for me. There was the Rex, opened in 1939,
very near where I lived in High Street, the Palladium in Cannon
Street and the Aberdare Cinema in Cardiff Road. There was also
a cinema on the corner of Wayne Street and Gadlys Road, not far from the
School, next to a café. Earlier, there was Haggar’s Kosy Kinema in Market Street
—the fleapit as it was known—next door to the old police station.
It was demolished in the late thirties. The Palladium
had Saturday morning matinees, with entrance through the side of the cinema
in Weatherall Street. I still remember the aroma of freshly baked bread
that wafted from Godding’s bakery, just across the road, next to Miss
Alder‘s, who tried to teach me pianoforte. For tuppence you could spend
the morning watching the Lone Ranger or Hop-Along Cassidy or Flash Gordon
or the Three Stoogies, and other ‘B Movies’. The cacophony of children
shouting and yelling quieted as soon as the screen lit up. When the Rex
first opened just before World War II, it featured an organist who played
during the intervals. Sitting at his lighted, multi-coloured organ, he
arose majestically, in evening dress, from a pit just in front of the
screen, playing as he came into view. What an event for Aberdare!
EARLY DAYS
I was born in 1931 at 54, High Street, then Beecham’s Grocery,
where I lived with my parents and an elderly aunt, Harriet Beecham. My
mother managed the business for her and my father was the manager of the
Western Welsh garage, then opposite the shop, until he volunteered for
the RAF before war broke out in early 1939. He served in France and then
with a US Squadron of P38 fighters based at Speke aerodrome, near Liverpool.
Next door to us were county court offices and the Toc H. Across the road
were the Rock grounds, site of the old Rock brewery, where a new clinic
and swimming pool (Rock Baths) were built. During the W.W.II, a communal
air raid shelter was sited just opposite the shop and against the garage.
It was never used. The only time I remember any danger from bombing was
when some German planes, returning from bombing Swansea, dropped bombs
on the Merthyr Mountain!
I attended the National School from the summer of
1934, when I was 3½ years old. The National School, a church school,
was then divided into two departments: the Infants School and the Junior
Mixed School. My infants school teacher, Miss Jones, whom I can just remember
as an attractive blonde and the daughter of the owner of the White Horse
chemists opposite Caradog’s statue, at the top of Victoria Square. Another
teacher was Miss Eynon, who left little impression on me other than being
a friend of my mother. She is shown in the picture below of the 1937 George
VI Coronation school party (Figure 4). |
Miss Eynon is at the back
right of the picture and I am to her immediate right in a white shirt,
standing against the wall. Notice how we were generally expected to sit
with our hands folded behind our backs. Also, there are some Coronation
mugs on the tables. I still have mine. I cannot remember much more about
this period of my life — except that Haydn Manning peed over me in the
play yard urinal! I walked to and from the National School along Bute
Street, at the back of the school, where people piled their “rubbish”
and fire ashes in boxes on the curbside outside their front doors, on
both sides of the street. These I used to jump over, which I see now as
basic training for my then, unknown, love of hurdling.
One Thursday, in June 1942, was a red letter day at 54 High Street.
That day’s issue of the Aberdare Leader included the listing of the ‘scholarship’
winners: those children from the surrounding schools who, in the coming
autumn, would attend the ‘county’ school, as the Aberdare Boys County
School was then called. I cannot remember what celebrations took place
at number 54, but one thing I do remember is that now I would be able
to wear the school cap: black, with two amber rings and a badge. I had
for years watched enviously as boys wore these caps around town! It was
quite a surprise for me to see my name on the scholarship list and even
more so at being in sixth place! I can only put it down to the teaching
at the National School and in particular to one Dorothy ‘Dolly’ Davies
who taught me in my latter days at the school. Miss Davies was a middle
aged, dark haired, wiry, chain smoking spinster who wielded a mean cane,
which inevitably found its mark on the outstretched palms of any wayward
class member. We were never able to determine if the myth of placing a
strand of hair over the palm alleviated the pain, since Dolly would carefully
brush the palm before the cane descended! She was a golfer and lived in
Alexandra Terrace, Abernant.
The early 40s was
a time of food and clothes rationing and it was a great advantage to be living
in a grocery. Tea, sugar, fats (butter, margarine, lard), cheese, bacon &
ham were all delivered in bulk: tea in tin-foil lined chests (coveted by those
who were moving house for packing their china and glass), sugar in sacks, fats
came in tubs, cheeses in skins and bacon & ham “on the bone”. Tea would be
pre-weighed into blue paper bags and the fats in greaseproof paper — but not
too much at a time since there was no refrigeration! Cheeses were sectioned and
then cut and weighed to order. Ham and bacon were sliced by hand and also
weighed to order. Because of the bulk shipment of these provisions to the
grocer from a distributor, ours was in Swansea, there were invariably extra
leftovers, or weighing up allowances, which were used at the discretion of the
grocer, often to barter for other rationed products, such as clothes and meat,
with local shopkeepers - and with Hodges and the Brecon Meat Supply in
particular. Most of our customers were from the nearby streets around and
opposite the shop, as well as from Green Fach, the area where the new library
now stands. They were mostly colliers and their families, who were allowed, at
one time or another, unquestioned credit from my aunt. Not all of it was paid
back. We had other customers from farther afield: one I remember was Condon,
the undertaker, who lived on the corner of Elm Grove and Gadlys Road. Mrs. Condon,
a friend of my mother’s, would visit the shop to place her order, which I
remember was usually quite large. Her husband would arrive in a hearse to pick
it up—my mother said this was because the order was a dead weight!
THE SCHOOL
I arrived at Aberdare County School, as it was then called, at the beginning of the 1942 school year,
in September. I remember little about the first years. The school was laid out
much the same as shown in the school plan elsewhere on this website: there
were lower and upper yards, with the class rooms more or less as shown.
However, a lawn existed where the new dining room is shown on the plan.
Photographs of school teams were taken here. The Head’s office was then
immediately to the right of the main hall, where the secretary’s office is now
shown. In fact, at morning assembly, the Head would appear from his office,
deus ex machina, through a door directly behind the dais, from which he would
lead morning prayers. Directly in front of the Head would be the junior forms
with the seniors at the back of the hall. Masters would stand along the wall
facing the windows.
G.P. Ambrose, Headmaster. I can say little about
Ambrose, except that he was a keen musician and played piano in the first
School concert I took part in at the Coliseum. We performed Haydn’s
“The Seasons”, with P.E. Phillips conducting and with Peter
Pears, tenor, as one of the principal soloists. (q.v. Musical and Dramatic
Activities: School Choir 1942-43.) Ambrose was replaced as Head by T.B.
Reynolds.
J.T. Bowen. Sasso was a tall man with a stiff gait and closely
cropped hair. He was not well liked with the students as far as I remember.
He taught me Welsh for one year — I wish now I had paid more attention
to those lessons, as to many others! If he wanted to make a point to you
he invariably pointed his index finger at you from an upturned hand, with
shoulders hunched and his left hand behind his back, holding back his
gown, and would growl: “Now look here boy!” I believe he had a son attending
the School a few years after me.
S. Evans. Sammy taught me chemistry
for just one year before he left and Little Willie took his place (see below).
Sammy knew my parents and it was his encouragement that led me to my first “chemistry
set”. This was used in the cellar of our house which developed into quite a
chem. lab, with condensers, retorts and lots of chemicals, bought by mail from
a laboratory supply house. Right up to the time I left Aberdare in the late 40’s,
I had a supply of sodium, kept in a glass stoppered bottle, under mineral oil.
It was eventually disposed of in a pond at the side of the Heads-of-the-Valleys
road. I often wonder if there was ever a mysterious explosion reported from
that pond.
E.J. Excell. No nickname, he was just “Excell”. Always seemingly
calm and collected, he invariable wore a sports coat and flannels — and
the inevitable trilby. I cannot remember him changing from this attire,
even when refereeing and umpiring School rugby and cricket matches. The
same at School sports days. It was Excell who took a few of us to Cardiff
one summer Saturday to join a number of athletes from schools throughout
Glamorgan. There we met Geoff Dyson, the British Olympic coach and husband
of Maureen Gardner, the British and Olympic hurdler. It was Dyson who
taught me to run over hurdles and not jump them, with consequent successes
in many hurdle races thereafter. Just shows what professional coaching
will do — and there was little or none available in Glamorgan schools
at that time, including ABCS.
R.V. Hoggins. He never taught me. All I remember of him is that
of a large man who had a son at School — Bryan Hoggins.
H.I. James. Jimmy, the biology teacher, left to join the
army shortly after I came to the School and he returned at the end of
W.W.II. During his absence he was replaced by a rather voluptuous lady
who we called Katie4 — I cannot remember her full name. Katie would
sometimes take here biology classes, al fresco, on the lawn, in the summer.
She was very popular!
T.R. James. Butch was a first class maths teacher. A small man
who tolerated no nonsense, he taught me in the sixth forms. He was a heavy
smoker evident from the yellow stained first and second fingers of his
right hand. He actively participated, with P.E. Phillips and Ambrose, in
the annual school concerts.
C.E. Jones. Caesar. Just one year of Latin with him. He lived in
Llwydcoed, near W.D. Towler. Can’t remember much about him except
that he had one eye?
D.A. Lewis. Dai’ood, the woodwork master, seemed rather out of
place with the rest of the masters. He was an artisan.
W.D. Towler. Towler taught me physics through the sixth forms. He
was an avid photographer. He had an attractive daughter who married a
relatively well known opera singer.
P.E. Phillips. PEP. A dapper man with a pale, waxy complexion and
Hitler-type moustache. He lived in Glannant Street. He taught me French
in my early years and was a keen musician, actively contributing to the
annual school concerts, mostly as conductor.
T.B. Reynolds. Brin was my French teacher before he became Head,
and always wore a gown — which most masters did not, in my days.
I will always remember, when he was Head, and the School had won the
Middle School Cup at the Glamorganshire Sports, he took me aside before
he was to present me with the cup that morning at prayers, and said: “now
Malcolm, don’t let this success go to your head!” Brin was
a keen bridge player. His younger son, Dickie was one of a team of old
boys which toured Somerset in 1950 (q.v. photograph in Sporting Activities).
Aubrey Roberts. When I knew Bobby he was an elderly man
of small stature and a suggestion of wispy, graying hair on his near bald
head. He walked the corridors in Harris tweed suits carrying a two foot,
flat piece of polished wood, which he used to slap a desk to get attention.
I believe he played scrum half at Oxford. His lessons were always interesting
since he made history a series of stories, using very descriptive language.
Whenever any historical figure was to be punished, he would invariably
be placed first in “a deep, dark, dingy dungeon, with only cobwebs to
wipe away his tears”!
W.E. Roberts. Bonzo taught English language and literature, and
taught them very well, from form I through V. He was a quiet, gaunt faced,
pipe smoker. I believed he lived in Clifton Street and most days walked
to school with PE Phillips, who lived in Glannant Street. They would meet
up in Monk Street. Since they walked along High Street, I would look out
for them to pass my house before starting for school myself. I preferred
to walk behind any masters than in front of them. On the occasion I played
truant and spent the afternoon at the Rex, I had to take great care coming
out of there, since PEP, Bonzo and Little Willie would pass along High
Street on their way home, up Monk Street, to Glannant and Clifton Streets!
Bonzo’s plan was to retire to Aberaeron. We learned this one day
when he commented on the name of one of my class mates, Aeron Davies.
Whether he did retire there, I don’t know. Many parts of poems I
now remember were through writing them out as punishment lines. They include,
from Tennyson’s La Morte D’Arthur: “deep harm to disobey,
seeing obedience is the bond of rule” and “the old order changeth,
yielding place to new”.
A.L. Trott. Trott was another dapper man who always wore heavily
starched, usually white, collars. He taught me art for one year and I
am indebted to him for his lessons on perspective, which I have found,
from time to time, very useful. If I remember correctly, the “art” room
was above the kitchens, next to the staff room. Pre-lunch art lessons
were taken with pre-lunch kitchen aromas. In fact, the art room was also
used to seat an overflow from the main lunch room below.
G. Williams. Little Willie was my chemistry master until I left
school, before he became Head. He was a tall, good looking man from, I
believe, Mountain Ash and graduated from U.C. Cardiff. When I first arrived
at school, during W.W.II, he was nicknamed Conshy, a somewhat derogatory
name used to denote a conscientious objector. I later learned that he
had an invalid, widowed mother in Mountain Ash, which, presumably, was
why he did not “join up”. After the war, he became known as Little Willie.
He had a penchant for puns, but seldom laughed at them, he just placed
his tongue in his cheek. This led to most in my class doing the same at
the appropriate time! He would demonstrate various experiments from the
raised bench at the end of the chemistry lab. These were somewhat nerve
wracking experiences since occasionally the experiments would not quite
work out, which is why he was also called Willie Blow-Up! One experiment
involved the use of a catalyst and produced a crystalline substance which
had a distinctly mousey smell, which Little Willie attributed to the catalyst
used! Such was his humour. He occasionally refereed rugby games.
So much then for some brief memories I have of the Aberdare
I knew in my adolescence. It was a happy life and the education I received
at “the County School” was priceless and everlasting. I regret
the School no longer stands. But then, as I remember well: “the
old order changeth, yielding place to new”!
Malcolm B. Lloyd. March 2009. Virginia USA.
email: 
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