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
‘stupefy terribles’. It was in the Wizard that I read about the
extraordinary athletic prowess of Wilson, who lived 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.
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Servini’s Café was on the
opposite side of Cardiff Street. 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
Canon Street and the Aberdare Cinema in Cardiff Street. 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
Weatheral 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 Stooges, 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).
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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 invariably 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 her 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 mousy 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.
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