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Two Broadways: Pontypool and New York

August 10, 2009

About ten years ago, when my wife and I visited New York, we walked down Broadway and I remember thinking how different it was from Broadway, Pontypool; yes, it was a lot different. The buildings on New York Broadway towered above us like giants. The trouble is, if you build tall buildings you cut out the sun. Broadway, Pontypool was quite wide with low buildings; consequently, when the sun was out, it was always sunny. Also you had a good view our over the town and beyond on the one side.

One day, as I was returning home from Town School, having decided on the Broadway route, I was met at the top of the Donkey Steps by a man and woman who asked me the way to somewhere (I can’t remember where). I said I always passed it on my way home and that I would show them where it was. We walked along chatting as we went. I remember the woman was wearing one of those bell-shaped hats that were very popular in the twenties. When we came to a point where I could show them the place they wanted, they thanked me very much and the man took out of his pocket a small arc-shaped magnet and gave it to me. I still have it.

The slight rise at the top of the hilly part of Broadway led into North Road. My maternal grandparents lived in North Road in the last cottage on the right walking from the Wern Terrace direction. My grandfather died when I was only five years old but I have some fond memories of him. He used to take me on long walks such as down to the Crumlin Road where he would point out what plants it was safe to eat. I remember coming home one day in great triumph after we’d captured a “snake” – actually it was some sort of dark brown worm about two inches long. I took it home in my grandfather’s cigarette packet.

I was always made to feel welcome in the little cottage and would sometimes be given pieces of paper to write and draw on. I remember on one occasion my grandfather made me a pipe out of a cotton reel and some sort of a straw. He always seemed to have ideas which I considered exciting.

The cottage was one of those two down-two up affairs with the staircase in the corner of the living room; it was always difficult to climb. They now have similar ones at St Fagan’s Folk Museum. I remember going up it for the last time when most of my family were assembled around grandfather’s bed. I didn’t know at the time that he was dying but I did notice tears running down my mother’s face. Afterwards I asked her whether she’d been crying and she replied that she’d got something in her eye. I never saw my grandfather again.

If you crossed diagonally across the road at the wide junction there was Williams’ shop where they sold all sorts of sweets in packets and large bottles. I frequently went there to get my favourite sweets at the time – Dolly Mixtures. They were small, varied and lasted a long time. Almost opposite was another smaller shop. I forget the name but I often went there to buy a bottle of pop.

About half way along North Road there was a butcher’s shop. I think it was run by Les Pope. I frequently accompanied my mother there when she went to buy her meat. I well remember the assortment of joints, chops, black pudding and tripe displayed in the window. Tripe was a meal we never had but tripe-and-onions was a popular meal at the time.

I am indebted to Clive Barnby of Pontypridd, who used to live in North Road, for the following memories sent to me by email:

One character I remember, David, was a chap I usually passed on the donkey steps – as I was walking down, he was walking up towards The Broadway, always reading from a book. I didn’t know his name or where he lived. There was Mrs Harris who had the shop by Town School & would sell cigarettes singly to the pupils who stayed on after 11.

Another was Joe Williams, the landlord, of the Forgehammer. I don’t know where he lived either but in the mornings he would walk up North Road from The Broadway direction. It was in the days when betting shops were illegal but he ran a “book” & would take bets, so he had a “regular time” he’d walk to the pub & people would come out of the house & hand him a piece of paper with their selection on it wrapped round half-crown or whatever. This was up to about when I was seven.”

I well remember Harris’s shop opposite Town School. On one occasion, one of the teachers, Mr Hughes, asked to to go over there at playtime to buy some sweets for him. At the time he was sitting in Miss Brooks’ classroom as she was about to make tea. They were married a year or two later. Perhaps those sweets helped!

Just a little way up the hill from Harris’s was a small newspaper shop accessed by a few steep steps. This was where I went every Tuesday with my penny to buy our favourite comic – the “Tip Top”. My favourite character was the handsome mounted policeman on the front page. I loved his exploits. Captain Jim Hamar of the Boys’ Brigade had been a Mountie as I’ve mentioned previously. Some years ago on a 17 day visit to Canada, you can imagine my disappointment when there wasn’t a Mountie in sight.

Opposite Harris’s was the shop of Mr Bibey, the barber. It was always full but a few of us lads would be regularly sent there with our 9d to get a haircut. Strangely enough, I’ve just returned from the barber’s this morning. My haircut cost me £6.50. Come back Mr Bibey – all is forgiven.

Many thanks for participating in this blog

April 27, 2009

 

Since starting this blog I’ve been pleasantly surprised at the hit-rate of about 100 every week; I wasn’t expecting anywhere near this number. Another surprise has been the number of comments received and which I’ve been able to post on the blog.

But the most pleasing result of all has been the private emails I’ve received (not published on the blog of course) from people I knew many years ago in Pontypool. Many of these have jogged my memory about things I had – temporarily – forgotten and which I’ve been able to incorporate, sometimes retrospectively, into some of the posts.

So if any long-lost friends would like to email me to share a few memories, please feel free to do so at: david.hughes43@ntlworld.com

In case your memory – like mine – needs jogging, I append below a 1947 portrait. I won’t scare you with the 2009 version!

Best wishes,

David (Dewi) Hughes

picture-1

 

 


Murder most foul in Pontypool

August 25, 2008

I always regarded Pontypool as a quiet sort of place and not to be compared in any way with Chicago or London in the criminal league.

The first crime I remember – a relatively minor one – was perpetrated against my own family only a year or two after we’d moved to School Lane. My father was a keen gardener and had planted a small orchard of seven apple trees in the half of the garden near the house. We were all thrilled when quite a number of apples appeared on the trees and we watched their growth with great interest waiting for the day we could pick and eat them.

One Sunday evening, on returning home from Park Terrace Methodist Church, we were dismayed to see that someone had taken advantage of our absence and had picked every apple, except one, off the trees. At that time the field was next to our house and the fence consisted of only three strands of wire which made for easy access.

My father made extensive enquiries of local children, some of whom had seen the dirty deed, and he was told that “It was Paddy Hanford’s gang”. Apparently he was a character who lived somewhere in the Broadway area. As a result of this, my father bought a great dane dog to discourage this sort of thing from happening again. We called him Ras, and when he was a year old, he stood six feet tall on his hind legs. Naturally we had no further trouble with intruders of any sort.

But the crime which shook all Pontypool to the core was the murder of William Alfred Lewis known as “Dripping” Lewis. He was a 59 year old bachelor who lived at Plasmont, Conway Road. He was known as “Dripping” because of his liking for eating dripping sandwiches which were quite popular at that time. In my four journeys to and from Town School every day I passed his house regularly. As there was a high stone wall around it and a large gate in the corner, little could be seen of the house itself so it was easy to pass it without really noticing it.

Mr Lewis had been a draper at Cwm, Ebbw Vale until 1931. His unmarried sister lived with him at Plasmont until she died in 1936. The body of the victim was discovered by Thomas Brimble, a builder and decorator of Abersychan on Wednesday 24th May 1939. He had been working for some time on renovation work at Mr Lewis’s house. The milkman told Mr Brimble that the milk he had left on Monday was still in the two jugs and had not been used. That was when Mr Brimble went into the house to investigate. He found Mr Lewis’s body sprawled across his bed with a pillow over his face. He contacted the police at once.

Scotland Yard was informed and four of their officers came to investigate. They discovered that Mr Lewis had suffered several blows to the back of the head but could find no weapon nor any other clues. They later discovered that about £300 was missing from the house: £200 in rents from the houses and shops in the area owned by Mr Lewis and £100 worth of gold jewellery.

A post mortem later established that Mr Lewis had died on Monday 22nd May from shock brought on by his severe injuries.

The murderer was never caught but there was a tremendous amount of talk about the event for a long time afterwards.  

 

Hello Pontypool!

June 6, 2008

I started at West Mon Boys’ School during the war in 1942. During one of our music lessons, our music master, “Toot” Stevens informed us that we were going to borrow the Harrow school song for our own use. I remember the opening verse very well:

Forty years on, when afar and asunder
Parted are those who are singing today,
When you look back, and forgetfully wonder
What you were like in your work and your play,
Then, it may be, there will often come o’er you,
Glimpses of notes like the catch of a song -
Visions of boyhood shall float them before you,
Echoes of dreamland shall bear them along.

I remember, at the time, feeling slightly nostalgic when I heard the words and thinking what a far-distant time we were singing about; although I did wonder how far flung we might all be and what we might be doing in forty years time.

Now I’m looking back, not over forty years, but sixty and I really do wonder what all those boys are doing and where they are. So I decided to start this blog. It’s possible that some of those old school friends might see it. 

It’s not my intention to make this blog another “history of Pontypool” as there are plenty of those about already. This will be an intensely personal collection of recollections, almost at random as they occur to me; and I don’t want them necessarily to be only my recollections. If any visitors have any they’d like to share, I’d love to hear about them. This doesn’t mean only old westmonians of course, but everybody who’s ever lived in Pontypool and its surroundings.