Family Matters

Family Matters

The Story Teller, Clown, Song & Dance Man.

The Good Provider But Most Off All.

My Dad.

This page is to be dedicated to my father Andrew O'Connor 1909-1975 a miner

most of his life but a very special man who though very hard working in the coal fields of Co Durham & Northumberland where his health suffered greatly was the life and soul of a party.

Andrew O'Connor

1909-1975

In his time my dad was successful in many ways and in the thirty's when things were hard went to London with a few friends to busk on the streets there sending much of the money he made home to his mother. Being of Irish decent (His Great Grandparents John O'Connor & Bridget Ludden from Co Mayo who came to England in the famine years) As a young child he was influenced a great deal by the Irish music and I may add some of the political happenings.

My Father learned to play the accordion fairly well & the piano very badly though as they say could always knock a tune out and as far as the piano, it was just short of abuse but there was always one thing he was talented at and that was he could sell it. He had a great knack for making others join in and enjoy themselves. In his early life dad learned to tap dance from his uncle Jonas,and later passed this on to my two older brothers Andrew & Fred who as children entertained for E.N.S.A during WW2.

Andy & Fred

Wartime in Crook Co Durham.

My dad also had a bent towards comedy and could often be found working as the comedian/singer in many concert party troops around the North east of England in the 1940/50/60s. The one I remember as a child was

The Six Mac's with a friend of his called Jimmy Mc Intire but people were never away from the door for him to go somewhere to entertain. It is ironic and very sad that dad never saw his grandchildren take the family tradition of entertaining to it's fullest height in the north east clubs when they won act of the year North East 1985.

Myself & Four of my Five Sons Above.

He would have been so proud, though when they and I recorded our CD,

I did write a song in his memory for it,

(Family Footsteps) which we had a great deal of trouble recording as everyone kept breaking out in tears.

As a child I remember dad getting me up on Saturday mornings which was the day he would give everyone their breakfast in bed if there was enough bacon to go around, and if not my mother got it and he would send me into her bedroom to dip my toast soldiers in her fried egg & tomato. This was the time that I loved most as dad was always up early on a Saturday morning and off to the news agents for his morning paper. He'd then sit on the back door step picking his horses for his Saturday bet and after this would start breakfast. After breakfast my mother would have another hour in bed while I would sit in the back kitchen in my dressing gown listening to my dad tell stories of his childhood & youth. They were stories of hard bare foot days of poverty that was hard to imagine. Of friends with funny names like Goffy Molloy & Tucker Murray.

Stories of Schoolmasters beatings and playing truant, of swimming in the river Tyne or at least Jarrow Slake that was part of it. I remember him telling me how he had built up a newspaper business as a child which he had to fight for most nights as others encroached on his patch. Thanks dad they were great Saturday mornings and for me they will never be the same, All I can do is pass those happy memories on to my children & Grandchildren in the hope that one day they'll do the same.

Dad & Me 1955

A Night At The Filcks

One evening I came in from school to find dad still black from the mine washing up for his meal & when we eventually sat down to it he leaned over the table towards me and with that glint in his eye that I had so often seen before the one that said that I was about to be excited and filled with wonderment, he said " Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn". I had at the age of about seven no idea what he was talking about but still it excited me because I knew that look. Dad explained that the film was playing at the picture house in Jarrow and that he was going to take me there that very night. I came out of the picture house that night with my head full of wonderful things though my mind was really still inside. It all seemed as though dad had taken me to see his childhood as the story was not that far away from the stories he told me on those Saturday mornings. I have a copy of the video these days and have read the book many times but each time I do the memories of Saturday mornings at 9 Ullswater Avenue Jarrow come flooding back.

A Sticky Moment

Dad told me a story one day about himself and Tucker Murray when they were about the age of twelve and before I tell it here I must explain a few things for those of you who don't come from the north east of England. Children in my father's time were dressed differently in those days and a baby boy would often be dressed in dresses until they were about four years old. At this point they would normally be given a Sailor Suit to wear with the big collar, hat, short trousers and a whistle that hung around their neck. If they were of the working class it was hand me downs when they grew out of their sailor suit but not so for those who were from better off families. Better off children were given a sailor suit at the age of four also but when the grew out of it they were given a larger one and theirs were quite often velvet one's along with buckled shoes and in their case they would wear these until they were very often the age of twelve.

One night when dad was about twelve years old he and Tucker Murray were standing at the end of a street in Jarrow. It had been raining and the wet ground reflected the pale yellow of the Gas Light that Tucker was leaning against sharpening a stick with the pen knife his grandad had left him when he died.

Tucker was always cutting sticks in this way and as he was talking to dad who was leaning up against the corner of the gable end of the last house in the street

he looked up and along the length of the street. About three or four gas lights up he saw what was to be the object of his fun pass under the pale yellow light. It was a posh twelve year old in a velvet sailor suit buckled shoes and all.

Suddenly he said to my dad who had not noticed the boy " Andy quick come round the back lane", my dad bemused said "why, why". Tucker said he would explain when they got there which he did. In the lane there was a trap door for each house which opened so as the council could empty the Midden which was a dry toilet. They opened the midden door and Tucker took hold of the sharp end of his stick poking the blunt end into the midden. When he brought it out it was covered with brown humus that gave off a bit of a smell. Running back to their spot on the corner they pretended to be verbally fighting and as the boy in the velvet suit came past them Tucker said to my dad "I'll knock your block off" and to the boy " Here hold my stick for a second". The unsuspecting boy grabbed at Tucker's stick somewhere in the middle and Tucker with great delight pulled it right through his hand leaving the poor lad with a handful of something quite unforgettable. The distraught boy sailor ran crying down the street while dad and Tucker rolled around on the wet pavement laughing wildly. The day dad told me that story I recall him saying of the boy sailor " Poor Lad I wonder what became of him".

Hob Nailed Boots & The Head Masters Cane.

Although My Gradad John O'Connor was a boilermaker in the shipyards on Tyneside he had many other crafts to hand. One of these was shoe making which

He had leaned as a boy at his grandfather's ( Jonas Sharp ) side who in turn had learned it from his father in law Christopher Liddell/Liddle. This was something that my father as a child had hated as his father used to make him boots to wear and because all of his friends were bare foot he found that they would not play football with him if he was wearing his boots. Dad would very seldom wear his boots for this reason and also the fact that the ball they used was usually a pigs bladder and would be burst by his boots. Another thing that was interesting about dad was that he had been the only child in his class at school to pass his exams to go to the grammar school in Sunderland, but being the oldest son he knew that my grandmother could not afford to pay for the uniform etc. and he did not want to be parted from his friends anyway. He also took his eldest son status very seriously and wanted to start work as soon as possible so he could bring money home for his mother which would have been a non starter had he went to the grammar school. After a lot of debates with his parents dad was finally allowed to go to the senior school for Catholics at the time in Jarrow which was the old St Bede's but known locally as Low Jarrow school. Dad was at Low Jarrow for some three years and had been put straight into the top class because of his exam passes in the junior school. The first year in this class had went well but he found the second and third year learning the same lessons as the year before very boring so started to play the wag (truant).

Mostly he done this with Tucker Murray and they had a wonderful time down at Jarrow Slake (Jarrow's Lake) known better locally as the Slacks. It was a very dirty area behind St Paul's Church where in the 7th century St Bede, one of St Cuthbert's flock had lived and became the first person to write English history.

The Slacks though even when I was a child had large wooden jetty's where ships would come in and these dad would use to launch himself from in diving competitions with his pal's. Playing the wag eventually got dad and Tucker into trouble with both his parents and his Headmaster Septimus McAlarney.

Mr. McAlarney was town famous for his prowess with a cane which dad and I am sure many others could bear witness to. So it seems that the Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn of Jarrow lived for the last two years at school.

One morning after being caught out at wagging my grandmother and Tucker's mother decided to take the boys back to school by the ear with dad wearing his hob nailed boots. As the foursome arrived in the school yard dad asked his mother if he could go to the yard toilet and gran said no. Dad pleaded with her saying that McAlarney wouldn't let them go once he had them in the classroom.

My grandmother relented being a bit of a softy sometimes and both dad and Tucker ran to the toilets with dad's boots making the school yard ring and clatter.

Gran knew he could not go far without she would hear him anyway so both her and Mrs. Murray waited and waited and waited, till eventually the penny dropped.

THEY WERE GONE! What gran didn't know was that there was a large hole in the wall of the boys toilets and that the boys were long gone. When the two ladies went to investigate all they found was thin air and dad's hob nailed boots.

The Cane That Never Was

On one such occasion when returned to school Septimus McAlarney tried to flog dad and Tucker in a small porch but came of worse as the worm turned that day with the pair of them getting stuck in to him and running off again. Dad was never to return to school but at the age of 14 years started work down the coal mine at Boldon Colliery and his childhood was over. Dad was never to be flogged by a head masters cane again but his mortal frame was to carry scars as though of blue ink for the rest of his life. " I remember washing the back of a man who was all blue scared and eased his pain in a tin bath that hung on a nail in the yard" Words taken from a poem written by my brother Fred who as a child scrubbed dad's back after he came home from the pit, as I am sure many did before there was showers at the pit head. I was and am very proud of my father who like most men had his faults and listened patiently to those who wanted to point them all out to him while never looking in the mirror themselves. It was one of his great strengths that he was so laid back and I wish I was more like him in this. He liked his pint of beer and a good old sing song and now and then would get a drop too much but even then I admired the way he would rather sing than fight.

More To Come

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	Family Matters The Story Teller, Clown, Song & Dance Man. The Good Provider But Most Off All. My Dad. This page is to be dedicated to my father Andrew O'Connor 1909-1975 a miner most of his life but a very special man who though very hard working in the coal fields of Co Durham & Northumberland where his health suffered greatly was the life and soul of a party. Andrew O'Connor 1909-1975 In his time my dad was successful in many ways and in the thirty's when things were hard went to London with a few friends to busk on the streets there sending much of the money he made home to his mother. Being of Irish decent (His Great Grandparents John O'Connor & Bridget Ludden from Co Mayo who came to England in the famine years) As a young child he was influenced a great deal by the Irish music and I may add some of the political happenings. My Father learned to play the accordion fairly well & the piano very badly though as they say could always knock a tune out and as far as the piano, it was just short of abuse but there was always one thing he was talented at and that was he could sell it. He had a great knack for making others join in and enjoy themselves. In his early life dad learned to tap dance from his uncle Jonas,and later passed this on to my two older brothers Andrew & Fred who as children entertained for E.N.S.A during WW2. Andy & Fred Wartime in Crook Co Durham. My dad also had a bent towards comedy and could often be found working as the comedian/singer in many concert party troops around the North east of England in the 1940/50/60s. The one I remember as a child was The Six Mac's with a friend of his called Jimmy Mc Intire but people were never away from the door for him to go somewhere to entertain. It is ironic and very sad that dad never saw his grandchildren take the family tradition of entertaining to it's fullest height in the north east clubs when they won act of the year North East 1985. Myself & Four of my Five Sons Above. He would have been so proud, though when they and I recorded our CD, I did write a song in his memory for it, (Family Footsteps) which we had a great deal of trouble recording as everyone kept breaking out in tears. As a child I remember dad getting me up on Saturday mornings which was the day he would give everyone their breakfast in bed if there was enough bacon to go around, and if not my mother got it and he would send me into her bedroom to dip my toast soldiers in her fried egg & tomato. This was the time that I loved most as dad was always up early on a Saturday morning and off to the news agents for his morning paper. He'd then sit on the back door step picking his horses for his Saturday bet and after this would start breakfast. After breakfast my mother would have another hour in bed while I would sit in the back kitchen in my dressing gown listening to my dad tell stories of his childhood & youth. They were stories of hard bare foot days of poverty that was hard to imagine. Of friends with funny names like Goffy Molloy & Tucker Murray. Stories of Schoolmasters beatings and playing truant, of swimming in the river Tyne or at least Jarrow Slake that was part of it. I remember him telling me how he had built up a newspaper business as a child which he had to fight for most nights as others encroached on his patch. Thanks dad they were great Saturday mornings and for me they will never be the same, All I can do is pass those happy memories on to my children & Grandchildren in the hope that one day they'll do the same. Dad & Me 1955 A Night At The Filcks One evening I came in from school to find dad still black from the mine washing up for his meal & when we eventually sat down to it he leaned over the table towards me and with that glint in his eye that I had so often seen before the one that said that I was about to be excited and filled with wonderment, he said " Tom Sawyer & Huckleberry Finn". I had at the age of about seven no idea what he was talking about but still it excited me because I knew that look. Dad explained that the film was playing at the picture house in Jarrow and that he was going to take me there that very night. I came out of the picture house that night with my head full of wonderful things though my mind was really still inside. It all seemed as though dad had taken me to see his childhood as the story was not that far away from the stories he told me on those Saturday mornings. I have a copy of the video these days and have read the book many times but each time I do the memories of Saturday mornings at 9 Ullswater Avenue Jarrow come flooding back. A Sticky Moment Dad told me a story one day about himself and Tucker Murray when they were about the age of twelve and before I tell it here I must explain a few things for those of you who don't come from the north east of England. Children in my father's time were dressed differently in those days and a baby boy would often be dressed in dresses until they were about four years old. At this point they would normally be given a Sailor Suit to wear with the big collar, hat, short trousers and a whistle that hung around their neck. If they were of the working class it was hand me downs when they grew out of their sailor suit but not so for those who were from better off families. Better off children were given a sailor suit at the age of four also but when the grew out of it they were given a larger one and theirs were quite often velvet one's along with buckled shoes and in their case they would wear these until they were very often the age of twelve. One night when dad was about twelve years old he and Tucker Murray were standing at the end of a street in Jarrow. It had been raining and the wet ground reflected the pale yellow of the Gas Light that Tucker was leaning against sharpening a stick with the pen knife his grandad had left him when he died. Tucker was always cutting sticks in this way and as he was talking to dad who was leaning up against the corner of the gable end of the last house in the street he looked up and along the length of the street. About three or four gas lights up he saw what was to be the object of his fun pass under the pale yellow light. It was a posh twelve year old in a velvet sailor suit buckled shoes and all. Suddenly he said to my dad who had not noticed the boy " Andy quick come round the back lane", my dad bemused said "why, why". Tucker said he would explain when they got there which he did. In the lane there was a trap door for each house which opened so as the council could empty the Midden which was a dry toilet. They opened the midden door and Tucker took hold of the sharp end of his stick poking the blunt end into the midden. When he brought it out it was covered with brown humus that gave off a bit of a smell. Running back to their spot on the corner they pretended to be verbally fighting and as the boy in the velvet suit came past them Tucker said to my dad "I'll knock your block off" and to the boy " Here hold my stick for a second". The unsuspecting boy grabbed at Tucker's stick somewhere in the middle and Tucker with great delight pulled it right through his hand leaving the poor lad with a handful of something quite unforgettable. The distraught boy sailor ran crying down the street while dad and Tucker rolled around on the wet pavement laughing wildly. The day dad told me that story I recall him saying of the boy sailor " Poor Lad I wonder what became of him". Hob Nailed Boots & The Head Masters Cane. Although My Gradad John O'Connor was a boilermaker in the shipyards on Tyneside he had many other crafts to hand. One of these was shoe making which He had leaned as a boy at his grandfather's ( Jonas Sharp ) side who in turn had learned it from his father in law Christopher Liddell/Liddle. This was something that my father as a child had hated as his father used to make him boots to wear and because all of his friends were bare foot he found that they would not play football with him if he was wearing his boots. Dad would very seldom wear his boots for this reason and also the fact that the ball they used was usually a pigs bladder and would be burst by his boots. Another thing that was interesting about dad was that he had been the only child in his class at school to pass his exams to go to the grammar school in Sunderland, but being the oldest son he knew that my grandmother could not afford to pay for the uniform etc. and he did not want to be parted from his friends anyway. He also took his eldest son status very seriously and wanted to start work as soon as possible so he could bring money home for his mother which would have been a non starter had he went to the grammar school. After a lot of debates with his parents dad was finally allowed to go to the senior school for Catholics at the time in Jarrow which was the old St Bede's but known locally as Low Jarrow school. Dad was at Low Jarrow for some three years and had been put straight into the top class because of his exam passes in the junior school. The first year in this class had went well but he found the second and third year learning the same lessons as the year before very boring so started to play the wag (truant). Mostly he done this with Tucker Murray and they had a wonderful time down at Jarrow Slake (Jarrow's Lake) known better locally as the Slacks. It was a very dirty area behind St Paul's Church where in the 7th century St Bede, one of St Cuthbert's flock had lived and became the first person to write English history. The Slacks though even when I was a child had large wooden jetty's where ships would come in and these dad would use to launch himself from in diving competitions with his pal's. Playing the wag eventually got dad and Tucker into trouble with both his parents and his Headmaster Septimus McAlarney. Mr. McAlarney was town famous for his prowess with a cane which dad and I am sure many others could bear witness to. So it seems that the Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn of Jarrow lived for the last two years at school. One morning after being caught out at wagging my grandmother and Tucker's mother decided to take the boys back to school by the ear with dad wearing his hob nailed boots. As the foursome arrived in the school yard dad asked his mother if he could go to the yard toilet and gran said no. Dad pleaded with her saying that McAlarney wouldn't let them go once he had them in the classroom. My grandmother relented being a bit of a softy sometimes and both dad and Tucker ran to the toilets with dad's boots making the school yard ring and clatter. Gran knew he could not go far without she would hear him anyway so both her and Mrs. Murray waited and waited and waited, till eventually the penny dropped. THEY WERE GONE! What gran didn't know was that there was a large hole in the wall of the boys toilets and that the boys were long gone. When the two ladies went to investigate all they found was thin air and dad's hob nailed boots. The Cane That Never Was On one such occasion when returned to school Septimus McAlarney tried to flog dad and Tucker in a small porch but came of worse as the worm turned that day with the pair of them getting stuck in to him and running off again. Dad was never to return to school but at the age of 14 years started work down the coal mine at Boldon Colliery and his childhood was over. Dad was never to be flogged by a head masters cane again but his mortal frame was to carry scars as though of blue ink for the rest of his life. " I remember washing the back of a man who was all blue scared and eased his pain in a tin bath that hung on a nail in the yard" Words taken from a poem written by my brother Fred who as a child scrubbed dad's back after he came home from the pit, as I am sure many did before there was showers at the pit head. I was and am very proud of my father who like most men had his faults and listened patiently to those who wanted to point them all out to him while never looking in the mirror themselves. It was one of his great strengths that he was so laid back and I wish I was more like him in this. He liked his pint of beer and a good old sing song and now and then would get a drop too much but even then I admired the way he would rather sing than fight. More To Come