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Information for the Beneficiaries of
The Baily Thomas Provident Fund (Former Employees of Mansfield Brewery) |
The New Marksman Newsletter
The Online Version of the New Marksman ~ Winter Issue
Spring is just around the corner!
Send in your favourite photo for the front cover.
This magazine aims to give news and information about the Baily Thomas Provident fund and the existing Sports and Social activities of ex Mansfield Brewery personnel.
The Baily Thomas Provident Trust funds the magazine but comments and articles of interest from you the beneficiaries will be most welcome.
Closing date for information to be included in the next issue: 20th April 2010
Many thanks to everyone who contributed to this publication
Walking group week-end to Kent - A silver outing
Kent, the Garden of England, was the destination for the Mansfield Brewery Walking Group’s 25th week-end away. The group visited Chartwell, the home of Sir Winston Churchill, and Leeds Castle.
Some members of the group enjoyed a walk along the river Medway on Saturday, whilst others explored Maidstone.
After dinner on Saturday night the walking group committee, Graham Cooling, Barbara Brown and Sue Longden (who organised the weekend) presented the group with a silver celebration cake and members shared photographic memories of the last 25 years’ outings which have been spent in locations from as far north as Newcastle to this year’s visit to Kent.
Before returning home on Sunday the group visited Royal Tunbridge Wells and Sissinghurst, the celebrated garden created by Vita Sackville West and her husband Harold Nicolson.
Past and present organisers of the week-end
Barbara and Alan Brown, Sue and Bob
Longden and Ken and Norma Smith
Never Give Up!!!!
by Mick Cutts
Hi Folks, I am still married to the lovely `err indoors`, Wendy, who has fully supported me on my quest for self improvement through tough times. I have five lovely daughters, two granddaughters and a dog (female of course). Since I left the Brewery I have been on an unrelenting stormy voyage and felt like jumping ship many times. I was self employed for 4 years, running my own skip business, but there was more red tape and regulations, not to mention legal responsibilities, than I imaged so I changed paths, if it is not working move on.
 Left Danny Mick Cutts Tony Eccleston |
My next move was a year at college doing what I enjoyed most – playing music (and to hell with the money). I embarked on a self indulgent performing arts course. Having gained some qualifications I left to join the circus, bands that is, and travelled far and wide playing with some top tribute bands (well if you call Ireland, Wales and Scotland far!)
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In between rocking and rolling I was taking graded exams with the London College of music and passed eight, with one to go for my teachers’ diploma. If any one has any tips on how to produce a dissertation, I would be grateful for advice, the biggest essay I wrote was on an A4 sheet.
I have some fond memories from the brewery days, my best memories are from the Bottling Shop with John (Seb Coe) Randall, (Popeye) Graham Kinder, (Aching) Ady King and Gordon Moore bellowing “Mick Cuuuuts where are you -put that fag out and shift that pallet!”
My first week, back in the neolithic time, I was working with a bloke, Dave and after a few hours I said “I am gasping for a fag”. “Go and have one “he said, I’ll keep the line going” “Are you sure” I said “ yeah”, he said, “take my paper too and put your feet up in the cabin”. Thought it was too good to be true, next thing a red face appeared called Gordon Jervis, “What do you think your doing?”
“Reading the paper and having a fag, what does it look like, who are you anyway? First in a line of reprimands and when I returned to the production line, everyone howled and they had shrink wrapped my coat up into the bargain! Mad happy times - anyone else have any tales from the bottling shop? Anyway, keep it real, keep laughing, keep life an adventure and never give up.
Mick Cutts
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Mark and Debbie Congratulation to Mark Talbot and The bride was attended by four bridesmaids Emily, Louise, Chloe Afterwards they were joined by friends and family for a reception which was held at the Rufford Arms, Mansfield with the groom enjoying it a bit too much! Mark and Debbie also celebrated the birth of Lucy Grace Talbot who was born on January 12th 2009 |
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Malcolm and Angela Hodges Malcolm and Angie Hodges were married on 25th July 1969 at Kings Arcade, Doncaster. They have a son Clive and a daughter Joanna. Being in the licensing trade, Malcolm and Angela had no time for a honeymoon. In 1970 the newlyweds joined Sam Smith Brewery as pub managers and then Malcolm had a spell with Sam Smith Free Trade department. |
In 1982 they joined Mansfield Brewery and managed The Sea Croft - a very large beer outlet in Leeds. Malcolm was promoted to the position of Area Manager for Mansfield Inns before becoming Commercial Service Manager where he managed the stocktakers. His responsibilities increased when he became responsible for gaming machines, a very important source of revenue. Angie returned to hairdressing. Both have now retired.
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Chris Hunter Retirement Chris Hunter started working for Mansfield Brewery in November 1989 in the Cellar Services Department under Dave Ford, at Harpings Road in Hull. The team consisted of 6 fitters - Chris, Dave Briscoe, Tommy Spence, Don Brown, Stan Hunt and Colin Morgan together with Ted Park and Geoff Scaife who worked in Quality Control. When the Cellar Services Department closed in January 1999 Dave, Don, Colin and Chris were transferred to Total Cellar Systems working from their base in Bradford, then Dewsbury and Featherstone from where he retired on 2 June 2009. |
Chris says” Since then Val, my wife, and I have bought a new touring caravan which we have used a lot and we are both looking forward to getting away even more often when Val retires in February 2010”.
One of Chris’s first "jobs" after retirement (which had been earmarked for many months!) was to tidy and clear out the garage and loft and he is pleased to say that the it is now clutter free and tidy in both areas and the car now fits easily into the garage!
PS Chris says” Please send my best wishes to anyone who may remember me!"
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A Turkish Delight! Paul Weaver writes, “Look what I found in Turkey. Paul and his family were on holiday |
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The Wheatsheaf Uncovered A group of extraordinary people were persuaded by managers Debbie and Shane Watson of the Wheatsheaf, Baslow to pose nude for a charity calendar in memory of Mary Nicholson (1944 -2008), wife of John Nicholson, deputy manager. The very professional photographs give a total new meaning to seeing MORE of the staff. The calendar which can be purchased at the Wheatsheaf costs £7 and all proceeds will be given to the Ashgate Hospice Chesterfield. Footnote, Marston’s generously |
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Still Some Life in the Old Dogs! Hugh Wilson, Darrell Stocks, Bill McCosh, Paul Handley and Colin Stump have been walking in the French Alps during the summer and these photos are evidence that “there’s some life in the old dogs yet’. Editor’s comment: I have been asked not to mention the increasing use of cable cars and chairlifts by certain members of the team to get both up and down the mountains! A picture paints a thousand words ! |
Life Adjustments
by Bert Dobson
I remember a dream – it was a dreary dull day and I was being chased by a huge monster which I believed was about to gobble me up. I had wandered near to some hens and the large cockerel in charge was chasing after me. I ran screaming to the back door of this very old house – no carpets or lino in those days – and “bang” I fell flat on a stone slab floor. Years later I was told that I was then just a little over two years old.
My father had just been killed at work leaving my mother destitute with myself and my three sisters, Queenie, Annie and Florence. The only help in the 1920s was from the local church. Hardship, poverty and mass unemployment were rife, there was no DHSS no NHS – just a widow’s pension of 10 shillings (50p) a week. It was impossible for my mother to manage.
Soon the authorities placed all four of us children in an orphanage – my sisters in the girls’ section and me in the boys’. The orphanage was run along Victorian and religious lines – discipline was strict and the slightest misdemeanour resulted in punishment by either the belt or cane. A slap across the face or a cane across the legs was given for just looking at Madam. As the youngest boy I became the butt and excuse for older boys for their wrongdoing. This was part of the bully boy system.
I hated the uniform – the shirts had celluloid collars and cuffs which were always well starched causing me to have chapped necks and sore arms until I became used to them. When we went to church I used to think how lucky the poorer kids were with their freedom and no uniforms.
The dining room had a long table which stretched down the middle of the room. Master sat at one end and Madam at the other. Any uneaten food was brought out at the next meal and you got nothing else until all food was eaten. If you refused to eat you had to stand facing the wall until the meal was over and then it was the cane in the Master’s office. Weather permitting we would go into the back garden to play – no flowers just a concrete yard. A wall separated the boys’ play area from the girls’ and I was not permitted to talk to my sisters so I used to lean with my back to the wall pretending to talk to the boys whilst talking to my sisters. If we were caught we knew what the punishment would be.
On Sundays it was church in the morning and Sunday School in the afternoon. Christmas was exciting watching the tree and decorations being put up in the large play room. We had no toys or presents but there was an apple and orange in the big sock at the bottom of the bed and there would be a few new toys in the playroom.
We had very few visitors but one day I was told my mother was coming to attend a meeting in the large playroom. I waited in the Master’s office until I was sent for and I remember entering the room but I did not have a clue who my mother was and did not know who to go to. It was the only time I remember my mother coming and I can see her now giving me a beautiful large box of chocolates wrapped in different coloured paper. Madam took them from me to have “later on” but I never saw them again. Life was very regimental and boring, church and schoolwork were taken very seriously. I cannot remember many happy days at the orphanage but little did I know that my life was to take a dramatic change. I was six years old.
One morning at breakfast Madam smiled at me (which was unusual) and asked if I was listening to Sir. I looked along the long table and Sir was looking straight at me. I hoped he was not going to ask me anything as I had not heard a word he was saying. He said “we are losing one of the boys to-day”. I took no notice until he mentioned my name and told me I would not be going to school and to wait in the playroom.
I was then told that my mother had remarried and my three sisters and I were going to live with her on a farm. Madam gave me clean clothes and we were taken to the train station.
It seemed like magic when we arrived at the station. Sir gave us a bag of sweets, put us on the train and waved us off. He had given some instructions to my eldest sister and we all had labels attached to our collars. I asked what mother was like but they had only seen her once while at the orphanage. At every station we wanted to get off but were told to sit still. Eventually the train pulled into a station and our little group got off, standing on the platform waiting for mother.
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People left the station platform and soon we were the only ones left. We were worried as none of us knew what to do and we were getting very upset. At 13, 11, 9 and 8 we only knew the orphanage and had no experience of life. We sat on a bench and my sister went for help. |
A uniformed station master came and informed us that we had got off at the wrong station. After a long wait mother came for us and after a lot of fussing over us she told us that a car was waiting outside. It was very exciting to ride in a car, a rare thing in those days. We wondered if the driver was our new father but mother told us he was not. It was a few miles to the farm and I had my first sight of animals in the fields, which I had only seen in books.
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We eventually arrived at the huge 22 room farmhouse. There were two staircases, one at each end of the farmhouse. Upstairs were the bedrooms, a room to store fruit from the farm’s three orchards and rooms which were used for the shooting parties’ accommodation. There was no gas, electricity or running water but every room had a paraffin lamp and there was a large pump outside the back door. |
Mother took us to our bedrooms and I asked where the playroom was. She laughed and said we could play anywhere. I was introduced to my new brother from her new marriage. He was about six years old and soon taught me a lot of things about the farm.
We all hurried our tea as we were excited and wanted to meet our new father. It was harvest time and it was normal on the farm to work a fifteen hour day. He came towards the house riding on the top of a rick, a cart loaded with hay drawn by a horse. All four of us hung around mother like chicks around a hen as he walked down the path. He was about sixty but young looking and always smiling. He spoke in a slightly posh voice and was the nicest, kindest man I had ever met. To marry a cockney woman and take on her four children while managing a 1000 acre farm was amazing. Once introduced, with all of us asking him questions he suddenly stopped and pointed to each of us in turn and asked to be called “dad”.
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Father and the farm hands went to complete a rick they had not had time to finish the day before. As they did two foxes bolted out from under the sheaths. My new father always carried a 12 bore shotgun, always unloaded, so all we could do was watch the foxes run away. As a lad of eight who had only been surrounded by brick walls this was all terribly exciting. I found myself enjoying this pleasant new big adjustment to my life. |
We hadn’t been back in the farm long and were sat listening to our new dad when we heard a loud voice shout “Is anyone in?” and a giant of a policeman came into the room. My sisters and I froze – “I see you got the children” said the policeman – “yes they got here in time for tea” said our new dad. The policeman looked at the four of us and said “so, you’ve come from London to live on the farm have you?” We all stood up as we had been taught to when someone spoke to us. “Yes sir” I answered nervously. “Don’t be nervous of me” he said with a smile on his face, “I’m the village bobby and I come round occasionally to see if everything is O.K.” Mum came in with four bottles of beer and dad poured out two glasses for him and the policeman.
We four had had religion and discipline for breakfast, dinner and tea for years and had been taught that beer was the devil’s brew and anyone who drank it was wicked and would end up in hell. My eldest sister ran out of the room with the three of us in hot pursuit up to our bedrooms. Mum soon appeared on the scene and calmed us down, telling us that drink was only evil if someone drank too much and became drunk. She suggested we go to bed after such an eventful day. I slept in a large double bed with my new younger brother who told me that the bobby often came and had a drink with dad and told him and mum all the news and gossip from the village.
Next day we got up early and were taken to the village with mother in a horse and cart. We met our new school teacher in the small village school. Our next call was to the vicarage to arrange for us all to be in the choir and to go choir practice.
On our first day at school it was noticeable that the children were country yokels and it wasn’t long before they started mocking our London accents. With five of us in one family we could be a formidable force when we stuck together. I had learned to get stuck in at the orphanage and I was soon able to stop any bullying even if I got a black eye or two.
Charlie, the farm odd job man, would take us to school on wet days. He took us in the pig float because it was easy to hook up to Danny Boy, the retired cavalry horse. Later Danny Boy became my horse although he was also used for the usual farm jobs.
I trained him to come to me when I shouted him from the field next to the farm. He knew I had some sugar lumps for him which I had nicked from the pantry. He refused to come for anyone else and Dad and Charlie would shout for me to fetch him – I could not reach the stirrups so I rode him bareback.
One day a couple of years later at school there was a loud noise of aircraft flying too low; they missed the school roof by yards. It was the noise of 3 Wellington bombers practising a fly pass for the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary.
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The villagers ran to the school to see if the children were all right as two of the three bombers had collided. We heard that they had crashed on our farm. We ran home, passing lots of RAF vehicles, ambulances, police cars and villagers on bicycles. One of the planes had crashed into the river bordering our farm. We stood and watched as a crane lifted the wreckage from the river. There were no survivors. |
My younger brother, James, soon taught me not to be so frightened of rules and regulations and we sometimes gave school a miss, bribing our three sisters to tell the teacher and vicar that we weren’t very well. A lad who came to collect milk told us to wrap some caustic soda in a handkerchief and sniff it. It made you sneeze a lot and made your eyes run so everyone thought you had a cold. We fooled everyone and all five of us had a week off school. We tried it again the second week but mum got wise and we had to do punishment jobs like feeding the chickens, ducks and geese.
We all had great fun at threshing time. Mr. Reeves would come from a nearby village with his threshing machine very early in the morning, my brother and I would have a tin each and he would show us how to catch the mice from the ricks. We then let them loose in the school and watched the girls and teachers standing on their desks screaming.
We had now settled in as a family and our lives were as normal as the other kids. We had regular jobs to feed the animals and lock and close all doors at night. The worse job was to cage and lock the poultry which were often in huts three or four fields away. Dad was very angry once when I did not lock the cockerel away and a fox caught it. In the long summer months we were paid to lead the horses from the fields to the ricks, one shilling per day. Six shillings was fantastic – I bought a second hand bike and a fishing rod.
One day a local Suffolk Punch carthorse was being introduced to our Suffolk Punch mare. We were told to stay in our rooms but we crept down to see if the mare accepted the stallion. If she didn’t he would kick down the gate - carthorses are powerful animals. There were also six working dogs and two very large spaniels, Don and Donna, imported from the USA for breeding and for use on the shoots.
Local gamekeepers would set traps for the foxes and would tell Dad who told us kids so we would not get trapped. If a vixen got snared she would escape by chewing through her own leg and if she had cubs they would copy her.
I noticed a difference between rich and poor when the toffs came shooting (the shoots were arranged by the rich uncle who owned the farm). The farm hands worked as beaters and the shooters’ attitude to them was poor. If they did not do as they were told they would be instantly dismissed.
My two older sisters left school and went to work in London and as I grew older my job was to work in the dairy skimming cream from the milk and making butter. When I was 14 I was given a choice – to work on the farm or to go to London to work for my older half brother (from dad’s previous marriage) who ran a builder’s supply yard.
I decided to go to London. It was a bad decision. I worked from 7 to 6 every day with a half day off on Thursday, for pay of 5 shillings per week. My accommodation was in slum quarters but I soon moved in with my eldest sister and went to work in a factory which made billiard cues.
Each locality had its own gang and fights were common to retain their territory. It was common practice to nick produce from the barrow boys and to goad the police. I was making bad decisions. I used to go Hyde Park and watch the Mosley fascists nicknamed Black Shirts being manhandled into Black Marias by police with truncheons.
This was the late 1930’s and the world was about to change. Hitler overran the Low Countries and we were told that if Germany invaded Poland we would declare war on Germany. To a lad of 16 this did not worry me much. War was about to start, the blitz and destruction were to follow – but that is another story.
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Bert Dobson was born in 1923 He joined R.L. Jones, and when it |
Obituaries
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Michael David King. 1 August 1946 - 4 August 2009 David attended Carter Lane primary school before moving to High Oakham secondary school leaving at fifteen. His first job was at a local motor bike retailer Henstocks and he then moved to local builders, Derek Baggaley. In 1968 at the age of 22 he commenced working for Mansfield Brewery on the loading dock before being promoted on to the drays as a driver’s mate. Dave’s hobby was his guitar and in his early days he played in a local band. He leaves a son Damien and daughter Shelli. Damien and Shelli would like to thank Denise Wilson and the Baily Thomas Fund for their support over this very difficult period. |
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Sally Irene Hare. 23 April 1953 - 12th July 2009
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An Ambition Realised
It’s great when an ambition become a reality, and Gavin Goodwin-Emberton (husband of Rachel, nee Goodwin, ex stocktaker in Managed Houses) built his ambition.
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Gavin’s dad was into Triumph Heralds and Gavin helped him in maintaining these old cars. When he was 16 he decided that he wanted one himself and bought one locally. |
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These cars are like big Meccano sets. Remove a few bolts and the roof comes off. The bonnet is moulded into the front wings and can be easily removed.” So the work began removing and replacing components, floor panels, repairing the chassis, welding new parts, painting, reassembling, Although it has taken over five years to build, in between getting married to Rachel, Gavin has managed to build himself a perfect Triumph Herald
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A Blast from the past
Date: 14 August 1959 - Lunch time.
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Date: 14 August 1959 - Lunch time. An explosion blew off the roof and extensively damaged an Auto Engineers workshop in Nottingham It was a miracle that only one man was in the building at the time.
John Abbott and Roy Thorpe (pictured), who were delivering soft drinks for Without considering their own safety they entered the building and released an injured man buried under the rubble. The heroes were congratulated by the emergency services for their bravery. Fortunately only two people had to be taken to hospital. The photograph shows the tangled wreckage of the workshop which was off Meadow Lane, Nottingham |
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Date: May 1967
Mansfield Two men taking bread to a M1 motorway canteen escaped unharmed from a collision with a Brewery lorry in Holmewood village. The driver of the Brewery lorry, Dennis Yates, was taken to Chesterfield Royal Hospital with leg injuries. He was later allowed home. His mate James Kendall was unhurt.
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Gardening Tips
Gardening requires a lot of water - most of it in the form of perspiration!
Here are a few tips to get on with in the garden.
January:
Weeding, dig deep to remove
roots of persistent perennial weeds.
If any plants are growing in the wrong place, dig them up &
replant elsewhere. Fruit and Veg: Clear old crop for vegetable planting.
Divide rhubarb and
prune blackcurrant bushes.
February:
Finish winter pruning of fruit trees and soft fruit.
Chit potatoes.
Shallots are one of the
earliest crops to plant outside.
March:
Prune shrubs, laurels, buddleia, honeysuckle, lilac etc.
Lift and divide congested
perennials e.g. hostas.
Protect perennials from slugs
Plant strawberrys in a basket.
Buy seedlings and plants.
Bring grow bags undercover to warm up.
Divide bulbs.
Fork over flower beds for sowing hardy annuals and bedding plants.
Apply weed killer to paths
April:
Prune back roses.
Remove faded pansies and primulas.
Spray roses to prevent infection.
Sprinkle sulphate of potash to feed fruit trees.
Cover strawberries to encourage growing
Feed lawns or apply combine weed killer and feed.
Notice Board.
David Lowe sends his thanks
Follow up to request in the spring 2009 New Marksman
David Lowe sends his thanks to all who helped in getting a Mansfield Brewery die cast Riding lorry he required for his collection, especially Colin Slaney (Estates Department)
Dinner Dance
Saturday 6th March 2010 at the Mansfield Civic Centre
Mansfield Brewery Golfing Society
Duncan Henderson is willing to arrange a nostalgic golf match.
Anyone interested please contact Duncan on 01623 467617 / 07932 258118
Mansfield Brewery Walking Group
Walks - Second Sunday every month.
For information contact Barbara Brown 01623 481488
Pensioners Group
For information on the Association
contact Secretary George Powell 01623 624478
To book your places on any of the outings
Telephone Denis Tasker 01623 623590
Six monthly re-union
Kevin Hall is organising the re-union at the Margarita’s Italian restaurant
in Mansfield Woodhouse on Friday 16th October 2009.
Contact Kevin on 07739 989626
If you have any photos, information, stories or tales about
W.G.Boalers and Son, Bellamys (Drinks) Ltd, Hull Brewery, R L Jones,
Mansfield Brewery, Mandora Soft Drinks, T.W.Beach,
Frampton Village Cider Company.
Please send to
Ian F P Boucher
34 Haddon Road
Mansfield
Notts
NG19 7BS
Telephone 01623 644798
All photographs etc will be returned if requested.
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