THE RETURN OF THE CIGARETTE BARON

Having spent most of the time away from school I had now been caught out. Unbeknown to me a truant inspector had traced the family to the tobacconist shop, my mother was in a convalescent hospital, my eldest sister Janet was told if I did not return to school the following day I would be found and taken into the care system and my parents would be taken to court. The whole family made a hunt for me; eventually my sisters found me working late at night in the plaster casting workshop in a broken down old house in Eagle Street. After my sister Janet had finished ripping a strip off my work-master she threatened to treat me like a little boy to take me by the hand to school and sit in the classroom if I did not do as she said. I respected my sister therefore obeyed her. She and Ron had moved out of the family home as they had fallen out with my mum, but she still found the time to sort me out.

On entered the school gates a little late; the late monitor was waiting behind the tall brick pillar of one the double gates.
“ What’s ya name?” he enquired in a voice of authority as he held his book and pencil up at arms length.
With no uncertainties I told him he was not having my name. If you were late for school three times you got the cane from the Headmaster, I had, had enough of the caning.
“ I’ll find out ya name.” He shouted after me waving his pencil at me.
I turned round and went back again and put my face a few inches from his own.
“ If me name ever appears in your bloody little red book I’ll promise you I’ll break your bloody fingers.”
He must have believed me, as he was never to ask for my name again.
I entered in to my form class.
“ Who’s the new boy Sir,” some joker shouted from the back of the classroom. I was greeted once again with laughter but I was old enough and big enough to take it now.
Mr. Christian the form teacher said with a kindly nod, “ Sit down somewhere Sharp.”
Where I had sat some time back was now occupied. One lad waved over to me pointing to the empty seat next to him. The desks seemed much smaller than I had remembered them.
Luck was in, Mr. Christian was our new form teacher; he was a good teacher, a good man and a professional teacher, however he also labelled me as a slow learner, but he was the only one who had not caned me for it to date, I never saw him cane anyone for that matter. School got better for me, we were at the beginning of my last but one years schooling, I suppose my secondary school was the same as all secondary schools of my time, we were fodder for industry and manual work. The grammar school boys mostly went into white-collar jobs. They spilt the schools population two or three times, once when you reached the age of eleven with the eleven plus exam, which you could have ago again at thirteen years of age, you could try another exam if you wanted to go to art school. This art exam I past but my parents did not encourage me to take the place up, whether this was because they could not afford the uniform or whether they were not interested I do not know, but I always regretted not going as art had played an enjoyable part in my school life. As far as art was concerned I stayed a big fish in a little pool, but felt I should have been a little fish in that big pool of the Joseph Wright School of Art. I felt as if I would have loved it but it was not to be.
In a few years time they were to close down the secondary schools, the art and music schools, and the comprehensive schools were born. I expect some middle class adults who were in a position of power who had children were disappointed their off-springs had failed the eleven plus exam, I firmly believe this fact brought comprehensive schools in quicker, as they did not like the thought of their little darlings mixing with the riff raff of the likes of the majority of us whom were bound to end up there, they not only had power they were snobs. These so called experts of the day stating those of us, who had attended the secondary schools, left us with a feeling of inadequacy because we trailed behind the others. Most of us had no such feelings as we remembered well the eleven plus exam, they like I stared at the exam paper and could not understand much of what they asked, I doubt today I would pass if I were to sit this exam again. I knew some of my friends had brighter academic minds, they past in flying colours then went on to grammar school, when we meet up after school they would talk on subjects I did not understand, I never felt inadequate because of this, they would have been completely lost in my school as I certainly would have been in theirs.
In this last two years of my schooling they started teaching us and educate us in a different way that suited my particular learning difficulty and many of my peer group. They were preparing us for industry, with double lessons in all practical subjects, plumbing, woodwork, metalwork, art, engineering drawing and sport, all the other subjects were single lessons, at the practical subjects I excelled and was for the first time in this school very happy the weeks sailed by. At the end of the first term back I had accumulated a bedside cabinet, many drawings and paintings, metal scrollwork, metal boxes, pewter jewelry, large engineering drawings, elaborate wall plaques, and even lathe turnings and an adjustable spanner. These were all on show on the open night, I would have been more proud of them, if only my parents would have shown, I always did expect them too but they never did in my whole schooling years, from forty third out forty four in the class I was now second in the class but still could not spell properly. At that point in time I found I had an unusual gift, I could enter a room then leave, hours later recall from memory and draw the shape of the room with the main fixtures and fittings and when checking the room measurements against the scale of the drawing, it was less then two feet in accuracy, although this has help me throughout my working life in those days I had a wild dream of being an arqutec (architect). Clearly I see policy makers trying to emulate what we had in some senior schools today but they can only make a cellotape dispenser as the godforsaken national curriculum states they should make one of these, I expect the pupils get really excited about it. One lad in my class had no interest in woodwork but he did like mice, the teacher got him to design and make a box, you’d never seen such a beautiful glass fronted three-storied mouse box. He eventually became top in woodwork so I pour shame on the policy makers.

My school life had turned around but home life remained the same. Our house was a busy house, with not very private living accommodation, I slept in one room with my brother and farther having never known my parents to sleep together all but for one night when my father was invited into bed by my mother, my sister Nora and I had heard him go into her room I jumped out of bed full of glee and went into my sister Nora’s bedroom we started running around her bedroom and jumping up and down on her bed stifling our giggles and silently clapping our hands together. They had parted physical company shortly after I was born but remained in the same household together we wished something else for them but it was never to be.
We had my senile great aunt Nelly living in the front room. It was Nora and I who now had the job of looking after her. At times I would find the house over bearing, especially when my mum and dad started one of their frequent rows, I would run upstairs, lie on my bed and punch hell out of my pillow then put it over my head to drown out the shouting. As often as I could to I would escape to my elder sisters home, she had moved out of her lodgings and had just got a new council house on the other side of town, it was quite there and my sister fed me well. Ron was an expert decorator, he too had little in his life and so it was both of them were becoming house-proud, they soon had the house immaculate.
Things had been looking up for my mother over the last year or so, she had taken over the tobacconist shop which belonged to my grandmother on my fathers side after she died nobody else in the family wanted it. She had a rise in status, she was now a businesswoman and she was happy with this, she claimed in brought in an extra income for the family, I am sure it did.
After a month or two of me being back at school, she announced the profits were down. She never expected that this could be mainly put down to me. The tobacconist shop was my Aladdin’s cave, no other shop had this magical rich smell, the cigarette packets carried exotic names, Passing Clouds, Sobronie Cocktail, Black Cat, Craven A, Dunhill. Capstan Full Strength, Woodbine, Park Drive, Players Weights, Turf, Robin, Woodbine, Senior Service, the list went on and on, all of them displayed in ten and twenty packets. Then it was on to the pipes and pipe tobaccos, rolled or flake, the cigars, king size panatelas and miniatures, chewing tobaccos, Snuff, cigarette rolling tobacco, lighters and matches, spills, tobacco knives, cigarette holders and cases, a truly wonderful treasure cave, was this little shop which was perched on the top of Green Lane hill near the town centre.

The Tobacco Baron had arrived back at school, stealing became all too easy for me. My mother was later to introduce sweets to boost up the profit margin. Another colourful array of bottles, jars, blocks and boxes of chocolates and sweets arrived in my cave. Eating these and the smoking did not help my health; I became fatter and coughed more. In my infant days and junior days at school, rationing was still around after the war, we only had a half penny or penny to spend on sweets which were limited in choice, we used to go to the corner shop with our weekly coupon to buy what we could, this usually was a stick of Spanish root, a bag of tiger nuts, or gob stopper or humbug. Most boys and girls had the same. Now the coupons had gone the sweet manufactures started making all new kinds of goodies for us to eat. To day the nations children were never going to be as fit again or our dentists so busy. I personnel cannot recall one fat child in all my school days up to this point in time, on most of us you could pinch an inch, we were as fit as butchers dogs but I was now renamed the Fat Cigarette Baron.
Instead of practical caring for her family, my mother was now too busy running her little emporium and had berried nearly all her time in it, I was now getting spoilt, and was fobbed of with extra pocket money, when calling in to the shop she would send me home on my bike to fetch some coal for the fire in the back parlour. I would ride the three or so miles home, fill an old rucksack up with coal and ride back only to find the fire out. She would say it did not matter as she was closing the shop anyway. Whether she did it to get me out of the way or to keep me busy as to not get into any trouble I can not say, but in trouble and in danger I did get, for I stopped going to the shop, except for the times I needed to build up my stock levels that were hidden under a loose floor board inside the built in cupboard in my bedroom.

I was now back in with my old school mate’s full time, I was popular as I was the only one with a constant supply of cigarettes. They had told me they had found an excellent hide out, in the form of a railway brake truck that was in the sidings near Peartree Railway station. The brake van had been left there for some time on the rusty lines in this little siding; they had broken into this and made it their head quarters. I could not wait to join them and arranged to meet them there in the evening. I rushed home to check on my aunt who was getting worse by the day, it was hard for me to not get angered at her, she had become an embarrassment to me, especially when friends called round to call for me. Today she was waiting at the gate with her cossets being worn on top of her black dress which was covered in white wash, I had got into the habit of locking the side gate to keep her in the garden, as she used to go wondering off, I must have forgotten on this day. She told me someone had been in pinching the coal out of the coalhouse, so she had white washed the coal. I steered her past the mess in the coal house into the kitchen, on the stove was burning potatoes in the bottom of a pan, my sister and I were now preparing all the families meals each day, the night before we had left the potatoes in water on the stove, my aunt had switched the stove on, to top this catastrophe she had crapped in the bottom of the bath.
“ You need to go,” I shouted at her in a very unpleasant manner.
Without an expression she replied“ Yes George.”
“ You need to clean your own crap up.”
“ Yes George.”
She could never remember my name,
I was too young to take care of her and was becoming close to getting to really hate her one felt I could easly give her an overdose of something. My sister Nora arrived back home from work and we sorted her out; I grabbed a sandwich and was gone, leaving Nora with the remains of the terrible mess.
I went over to call for my friend Alan who’s house was across the street, they always made welcome there, I sat down and waited for Alan and his family to finish their evening meal, which made my mouth water, his home was a comfortable place, his farther owned one of the few cars in the street and they were the also first to have a television set, we were fascinated by this new invention and starred at this large box with a magnifying glass screen. Alan was only allowed one mate in at a time to watch it, we would watch old films of Hop-along Cassidy, most of these we had seen before at the tanner rush, the Saturday morning children’s show at the Regal cinema, a tanner was six pence, in today’s money it represents two and a half pence. Here they sometimes put on talent competitions, we once persuaded our comedian friend to get up as he knew every joke going around, to our surprise he got up and was introduced, he stood in centre stage, he went on to start telling bawdy jokes but was quickly pulled off the stage we were all thrown out of the cinema. That night Alan quickly ate his dinner; we were soon off out in to the darkness of the evening to the new hide out.
We made our way down the railway embankment and climbed aboard the brake van, this was a double ended type, it had two little seats on each side where the guard could sit and see down the sides of the train out of little windows, these became good look out points. The wagon even supported a pot bellied stove although we never light it, as this would surely attract attention. The rest of our little group soon arrived; mostly we sat about talking and sometimes came up with ideas of things to do. We got to know what times trains past and wondered where they were heading for. We learnt the types of deferent loco’s we memorized the fancy names of the iron monsters that bore one as they steamed past, we got exited when a large berergarate loco came trundling past us.
“ Another namer coming.” some one would shout and we would all rush over to see if we could catch it’s name as it thundered past travelling to somewhere we could only dream of.
This was to become our second home for several weeks, nobody ever looked over the bridge parapet down on to this little siding, if they had they would have surly seen the comings and goings of our little band of street urchins.
Behind the brake van was a string of old fish vans; we decided to break into them .One by one we made our way down the line to see if there was anything in them. In several of these vans we found empty wooden ammunition boxes, all boys love boxes, one by one they turned up at our homes, we started selling them at school. The trade dried up, we became bored once again, one night we sat in our head quarters, the nightly goods train stopped across the main lines in another siding to wait for the London express train to pass. The signals would change, and this 060 type black steam engine would puff into action making its way out of the sidings, clanging all its wagons as they were taken hold of.
“ Lets go train ridding on it tomorrow night,” someone bright spark suggested.
“ We don’t know where it’s going,” somebody replied,
“ I bet it bloody well stops out side Derby station,” Alan said in his knowing voice,
“ We can find out tomorrow night.”
We meet the following evening on our bikes, we all rode down to London Road bridge just outside of Derby station, we propped up our bikes against the tall parapet of the bridge, climbed on the frames of them and stood on our saddles to hang our heads over the high bridge wall, we waited in anticipation for our goods train to appear. Right on time we saw it heading our way, the signal rattled and banged into action the goods train came to a halt outside Derby Station where it waited for another main line passenger train to puff its way out of a platform.
“ Look out for the guard,” someone shouted, as our goods train started to move.
As it went under the bridge the smoke engulfed us and we strained to see if there was a guard or not. We had an argument on the way home, as to whether they did or not carry a guard.
“ What the hell,” Alan said, “ it will be bloody dark so he wouldn’t see us anyway.”
So it was planned to ride the goods train the following night.
The following evening I meet up with Alan we both smiled when we saw each other, we were both dressed up in black as we had both dug out our old balaclavas, we looked and felt like cockle shell heroes. We reached our hide out, only three out of the eight lads had turned up, the others had thought better of it.
“ Well let’s go.”
We dropped out of the guards van ran across the two main lines over to the siding line and dived into the undergrowth. Time now seemed to go very slowly as we crept along the banking to where we had judged the middle of the goods train would be, we sat down and waited for our train to arrive. I could feel my heart pounding as the train was heard coming in the distance; every thing now to me seemed to go in slow motion. The mighty steam engine rolled past us blowing steam over us, the wagons rattled by, I began to wish it would not stop, but stop it did, the three of us scrabble aboard a flat plate wagon using the wheel bearing boxes as a foot hold. We all lay down flat on it; it seemed an age before the express passenger train came hurtling through. We stated to move and be on our way, the train crawled it’s way down the line under the several bridges down to the signal outside of Derby station, I just prayed it would stop, and began to wonder, why on earth were we doing this, we also had not figured out what we were going to do when we got off. Thankfully the train did stop and we were off quickly running across another rail and another until we found ourselves alongside the backs of a long row of heavy industrial factories. We started to make our way down this line of factories, the way we had come from, we looked into these lit up factory’s were furnaces and metal pouring was being carried out, we saw the night sift worker sweating away in front of cupolas, which crackled as their jaws opened to except more food that was shovelled in my these men working the night shift, nobody seemed to noticed us as we crept past these large wide open doorways. We were distancing ourselves away from the train we had arrived on. A night express train came charging by us at great speed, which made us jump even though it was on the opposite lines from us. I wanted the hell out of there, it was not fun. We soon came up to the foot bride where we knew a fence was, here we use to train spot from, we were quickly over the fence and safe. We were never to do it again.


School carried on, the caning for poor English had ceased and being asked to read out loud had stopped, they now knew I would point blankly refuse to do this and caning for that was not going to make me do it. I had found some mutual respect; I think they half understood why I could not grasp something’s. The teachers stopped calling me thick or stupid but still added I could do better on my report, even after I had moved forty odd places up the form position, I was achieving in other areas and I had learnt some strategies of how to cope better in maths, I still did not know off by heart or parrot fashion my six seven, eight and twelve times tables but I knew my elevens fives and nines and could add and subtract and in science I starting drawing more pictures to explain processes and abbreviated the spellings of the chemicals etc. Even my hate of doing competitive sport was not an issue, the last period on Fridays was football, I could not kick or catch or throw a ball, my coordination did not work as other boys, I was to join the D group for this period, a small group of none ball players. We all use to head down to Brackens Field Park with old man Leaversly, a man I was happy to call Sir, he had no interest in sport either, so all our little group sournted slowly making our way to the unkempt park where the grass was as high as our knees. Throwing a couple of jackets down, we just had a kick about; we didn’t even have to have any kit. The jackets disappeared somewhere in the long grass as did the ball, we stood around as nobody ran, if the ball just happened to land at your feet you just gave it a kick in the direction of our coats, others may go and look to see where it landed, that’s if they were interested. The old man sat quietly having a cigarette on the bottom of a children’s slide waiting for the time to pass, inevitably he judged the time when he thought it safe to call it a day and let us go which was usually early, as we walked home through the better Osmaston park we would catch the end of the other teams games.
As we all moved up to the big boys classes, those who had bullied us had now left school, we had become in charge of the little kids especially in the canteen at the dinner tables, were we to control what they ate, dishing out their food keeping the larges portions ourselves. We employed gofers, to fetch and to put things away and go to the shops for us but we did not bully them as we had been. I adopted a scruffy scorny little kid who looked under nourished; I made sure he had a big dinner for his reward in attending to me. School was now all right and I had no problems now of attending and of course had the additional incentive of making extra cash each day. This did not go unnoticed by the headmaster who added on a note with my school report stating I was a strong member of the smokers union. His comment, strong was a positive word for me.
My evenings and weekends started to be more productive as we started building bikes up, on the odd occasions when we needed a new wheel or other parts we would head down at night to Rolls Royce factory with a few spanners, to pinch our spares off a nightshift workers bikes in the bicycle racks conveniently provided out of sight. When we were short of money we would go bottling, that is climbing into the backyard of a public house steal their empty beer bottles only to take them round to the front of the pub, to their off licence hole in the wall to reclaim the deposit back on them. We then started collecting scrap metal, stripping it down to none furess metals and feress metal and weigh this in on Saturday mornings. This was so lucrative we started collecting items from our homes and others people’s property, we all got in trouble with our fathers and neighbours as one or two lawnmowers and garden rollers had gone missing. The local gardens had become devoid of any metal, our supply had dried up. This activity helped me loose weigh and gain several inches in height.
Having put this thieving behind me I turned my skills into building my first canoe. We were now older enough to join the local youth club, which was held on two nights a week, and our interest had turned to going there and to girls.
The social life now revolved round the youth club, here the gang would meet and have an hour or so playing cards, snooker or billiards, after which we would head to the hall to listen to the rock and roll music and to watch the girls dance with the older guys for the last hour. The peer groups spread around the hall, with no one going into any one else’s territory, except for the big guys who had been our bullies at school would invade the girl’s areas. At first we were worried about these guys, but they must have thought we had reached the required age of none bullying so they never bothered us. All of us had grown up and had gained a little more maturity as we entered our teenage years. The profits were to go up in my mothers little shop; she claimed it was her business acumen.
The girls were pretty and Rock and Roll was in.