Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:57:36 GMT
MY PILLBOX MEMORIES
This all began during my last year at school when I discussed with my parents which type of employment I should think of seeking. As I had not passed the examination to attend a Grammar school it meant that I would be leaving school at fourteen. Two of the subjects I had been good at were mathematics and woodworking. One of the things I did fancy a try at was to become a chef but it was pointed out to me that they worked very unsociable hours. The next was to be a carpenter because I preferred to use my hands but I did not wish to be stuck in a workshop all day.
One of the things my parents did discuss with me was to look for a job that provided a pension at the end of the employment. At fourteen the thought of something that was going to happen in fifty-one years time seemed of little consequence but the path chosen was proved to be the right one.
It all commenced on the 27th July 1945, the day I changed from a schoolboy to a working man, or maybe at fourteen a working lad. On leaving school a teacher had informed me that I would be lucky if anyone would employ me for more than ten minutes so I was not certain what to expect on this day.
The start of my career was to begin as a Boy Messenger for the General Post Office and I had no idea where it was to lead me.
My letter of appointment instructed me to report to the main office in Post Office Road in Bournemouth by 9.00am. Dressed in my new jacket and trousers, my short back and sides haircut slicked back with Brylcream I felt certain to give a good impression.
The letter informed me that I should introduce myself to either Mr Bundy or Mr Roberts who were the Head Postmen in charge of all the Boy Messengers in the Bournemouth and Poole postal areas. In the first few weeks I felt certain that these two gentlemen had been hand picked to control and discipline the fifty or more lads between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. With hindsight I think that with all the aggravation they had to put up with from us youngsters they must have been given the job as a punishment.
Mr Roberts was on duty the first day I started and after filling in the form for the Official Secrets Act, and various other forms, he introduced me to some of the messengers. There were five or six of them sitting on wooden benches around an old enamel table and I joined them. Mr Roberts sat at a high desk in the corner of the room and every so often would call out a number and one of the messengers would get up and go the desk where Mr Roberts would hand him a number of telegrams. The numbers he called out were not in any sequence and I could not fathom out how they knew who had to go to the desk. The messenger I was talking too suddenly stood up and said it was his turn and went to the desk. The penny had at last dropped and I realised that all the messengers had a brass plate with a letter and number on the left breast of their tunic, and for the next few years I would also be just a number in the General Post Office.
The first day was mainly a case of sitting around and chatting, and I was pleased that most of the lads were very friendly. It also gave me an opportunity to ask about the type of working conditions I could expect to encounter. I was also issued with an armband indicating that I was an official Post Office Messenger, a black leather belt with a large interlocking brass fastening, and a black leather pouch which slid onto the belt. This was to carry the telegrams in. To complete this collection I was given two oval shaped badges with a crown on top and in the centre was a letter T with the number 29 under it. One of the badges was for my tunic and the other to put on my pillbox hat when they both arrived. From that day on I was known as Messenger T29.
In the next few days I had the usual pranks played on me that was part of the new boys initiation but fortunately it did not go beyond the realms of pain or decency. Mr Bundy did tell me that to get a really good shine on my belt and pouch I should polish them with pigeon's milk. He informed me that it could be obtained from the health food shop that was in Post Office Rd. The shopkeeper was wise to this and asked me to bring along a bottle next day. Fortunately I mentioned it to my dad that evening and he told me that many had been caught by this joke. Many were also caught out by being sent to the store and asking for the skirting ladder.
For the first week I was sent out with various messengers to learn the different areas that were referred to as Walks, and each Walk had a number from one to five. When the telegrams arrived in the messenger's room they were divided into the appropriate Walk and allocated to a messenger. This meant that messengers would not be dashing from one side of the town to the other. All telegrams had a serial number which was entered on a sheet against the messenger's number, the time he left the office, and the estimated time of his return, depending on the Walk and the number of telegrams he had to deliver. Sometimes there were only a few and other times it was a job to close the pouch. Many a messenger would return late with some lame excuse, like his chain had come off or he could not find the address. The truth being he had been in a cafe or chatting to one of his girlfriends.
The Post Office counters and the main postal sorting office were in a building on the opposite side of the road to the telegraph office and the telephone exchange. The counter building also included the canteen for all the workers and was situated on the top floor. For most of the messengers this was a good opportunity to meet the girls of the same age who had also just commenced work for the General Post Office. Their official title was Girl Probationers and they worked in the telegraph office and the telephone exchange. The canteen offered a chance to sit with the girls and chat over a cup of tea and a sticky bun. As the canteen was on the top floor it was reached by a lift, and many a kiss and a cuddle was enjoyed by the youngsters on the trips up and down to the canteen.
The big day arrived when my uniform was ready and to my great surprise it fitted very well, except for the pillbox hat, but a strip of cardboard inside the hat band made it a reasonable fit. One of the things I learned from the older lads was that they did not like the height of new pillbox hats. The remedy for this was to soak them in a bucket of water and then slowly dry them in a hot oven. On receiving my new hat I thought I would try this out, so a good soaking overnight then early next morning into the oven. I was on late shift that day and had the morning off so I went out until lunchtime. When I arrived home my mum said she had noticed the hat in the oven and had turned it off. When I opened the oven the hat looked fine but as soon as I got hold of the peak the rest of it disintegrated into a pile of ashes. I had to inform the office that it had blown off and a lorry had run over it and ruined it completely. Mr Bundy explained that the chinstrap was not on the hat for decoration but as I was new to the job he would order a new one and not make me pay for it this time. A cup was presented each year to the best all round messenger, both for smart appearance and good conduct. I realised very early in my career that although I tried to maintain a smart appearance I had no chance of winning the cup for my behaviour. This applied to many of us.
In those days we did not have pay packets but had to sign a large alphabetical sheet weekly and your wages were handed to you in cash. My first pay day I had not completed a full week and when I presented myself for this momentous occasion I was asked if I had four pennies as the paying officer only had a One Pound note, and my pay was nineteen shillings and eight pence. It soon rose to the princely sum of twenty eight shillings per week and quite a lot of this went to my mum for housekeeping.
A lot of the time as a messenger was pretty ordinary but being lads of that age we got up to rather a lot of mischief and looking back some of it was rather irresponsible.
As I have stated the two Head Postmen controlled the main office at Bournemouth but there were sub offices at Poole, Parkstone, Southbourne, and Boscombe. These offices each had five messengers who worked on a shift system. I spent most of my messenger service at the Boscombe and Southbourne offices. To the delight of the messengers we had young ladies in charge at the sub offices that operated the teleprinters and also gave out the telegrams to the messengers. They in effect took the place of the Head Postmen but certainly did not have the same control over us. The exception was at the Southbourne office because the Head Postmistress was the most frightening woman a young lad could wish to meet. An elderly spinster with piercing eyes who came to work on an old upright bicycle but we felt it should have been on a broomstick. I am certain that her greatest hate in life was Boy Messengers and she had to suffer many over the years.
On numerous occasions she informed Mr Bundy that she did not wish to have me working at the Southbourne office but due to holidays and sickness I was sent there and therefore we both had to suffer at various times. It was easy to understand her dislike of messengers because we were inclined to make life annoying for her. One of are favourite pranks was to tilt forward a large cabinet which held all the forms , documents, and stationary items necessary to run a Post Office counter. This meant that when she opened the doors all the papers would come tumbling out on to the floor. It took her ages to sort them all out in the proper order. One day we tilted the cabinet too far and it slid to the ground and the brass handles embedded themselves into the doors. Three of us ended up doing extra duty with no pay and sent back to the main office on punishment duties. My punishment duty entailed minor repairs to the official bicycles, such as mending punctures and fitting new brake blocks. All the major repairs were sent to a cycle repair shop in Holdenhurst Rd and I did not mind delivering and collecting the bicycles that needed the attention of the cycle experts. I was not clocked in and out doing this work so it gave me a chance to wander up or down Old Christchurch Rd and look in the shop widows. In some ways I enjoyed being sent back to the main office as it gave me a chance to chat to the Girl Probationers. At that age most of the friendships did not last long as there was so many of us and the competition was strong for the prettiest girls.
One of the peculiarities when working at the main office was asking for the keys. The toilets in the yard were kept locked so that messengers would not hide in there. The reason for this was because the first messenger to report back in the office from a Walk would be the next one in line to be sent out with more telegrams. If you were unlucky you could be sent out again immediately or you could be lucky and have a long sit down and a good chat with your mates. If you were crafty you could get more than one lad to report in before you. The new messengers were often caught in this way. If you wished to use the toilets you had to ask the Head Postman on duty for the keys so you could unlock and then return them when finished. This sometimes gave you the chance to let a mate hide there until you gave back the key.
Most of my messenger service was spent at the Boscombe sub office and this suited me fine as I lived in Boscombe. Most of the time it was the same five messengers there and we all got on very well. The original messenger's room was just inside the main gate and on the ground floor so we could stand by the gate and watch all the shop girls going to work. In those days girls were becoming an important part of our lives, but on reflection we spent more time chasing them than executing our fantasies, although I must admit that the air raid shelters at the back of the Post Office could tell a few tales.
At this period in time there were far less traffic lights and a lot of the traffic was controlled by policemen on traffic duty. The crossroads at Christchurch Rd and Ashley Rd was one such place and not far from our office. When the policemen changed duties here they would come to into our office for a crafty cigarette as they were not supposed to smoke on duty. We got to know them quite well and if they saw us approaching the crossroads on our bikes they would often hold up the traffic to let us through. Another messenger and I were waiting at the lights one day and an open back lorry pulled up next to us carrying boxes of fruit. During the war fruit from abroad was not seen but this was 1946. Fruit was just appearing again and this lorry had a box of pineapples on it. I lifted one of the pineapples to show my mate and as I did so the lorry drove off and left me holding it The policeman had seen what had happened, just gave a laugh, and told us to scram after I explained that it was not my intention to steal the pineapple. He was one of our cigarette smoking friends and he let us keep it.
In the outer wall of this messengers room was the back of the public postage stamp machine. It was the responsibility of the staff in the telegraph room to ensure the rolls of stamps did not run out and also to collect the money mat had been deposited for the stamps. As there was no connecting door between these rooms it meant that the ladies had to walk out the back door and round the yard to get into the messengers room to complete these tasks. Often it was cold or raining and as there was a sliding glass panel between the rooms they would ask us to carry out these duties for them.
In those days the stamp machines were not noted for there reliability. The stamps and cash did not always tally up, and certain foreign coins would operate the machines. I am not suggesting that money was stolen but after the stamp machine operation was carried out there was usually a lovely hot lardy cake from Palmers bakery in Ashiey Rd available for enjoyable consumption.
We were issued with vouchers for our dinners at Sub Offices, as there were no canteen facilities. At Boscombe office we were supposed to use the British Restaurant in Holdenhurst Rd but most of us preferred to use a cafe in Pokesdown, which supplied to dinners for the Southbourne office. The British Restaurants were started at the beginning of the war and supplied meals to workers who could not travel far from their war time employment. I remember the food was very basic due to war time restrictions, and the cooks left a lot to be desired. The cafe was not the most salubrious dining establishment but the food was good.
The hours of duty for messengers consisted of six hour shifts. The first was from seven am to one pm and the last was from two pm to eight pm. There were two different shifts in between these times. These operated for seven days a week except at the sub offices that were closed on Sundays. The sub offices started at eight am and the last shift finished at seven pm. At the Boscombe office we devised a ploy to get away early if we were on the late shift. The teleprinters closed down at six thirty at the sub offices. Any telegrams that came in after that time were delivered by motor cycle messengers from the main office to the whole of the Bournemouth area. We discovered that by placing a small coin in the light socket in the messenger's room and switching on the circuit it would fuse all the lights on the ground floor. As the telegraph operators were all young ladies they had no idea where the fuse box was or how to mend a fuse if they found it. Fuses in those days had to be mended with a new fuse wire. This meant that they had to stop work and could not receive anymore telegrams that night. It was strange how the fuses blew about six pm. We could not use this ploy very often but it was handy on special occasions. A postman from the sorting office would sometimes mend the fuse but by that time we had already gone home.
This was the end of the war period and many things had not been available for many years. I can remember the day I had to take a telegram to Fyffes banana depot in Palmerston Rd to inform them that the first load of bananas since the war had arrived at Southampton Docks and were ready for collection. The manager was so pleased that he promised me some if I called back in a few days. A couple of days later I presented myself in his office and to my surprise he gave me a whole hand of bananas which I took back to the office. Unfortunately I did not listen to the manager who told me to wait a few days and let the bananas ripen. We thought we would try some but all ended up with bad stomach pains and frequent trips to the whitewash building at the end of the yard. At all the Post Offices we worked at the toilets were in separate buildings in the back yards and none had heating so a long stop was not an option. Another reason was many of the messengers suffered from acne and were advised that sulphur tablets were a good remedy. Maybe they were but it certainly made sure you did not loiter in the toilet block.
Telegrams could get you into many places that normally you would have to pay an admission charge, or even not be allowed in at all. If you insisted that the telegram had to be handed direct to the person named on the envelope it opened many doors. One of my favourites was to deliver telegrams to the Stars appearing at the Hippodrome Theatre in Boscombe. If you could manage on your last Walk to get telegrams for any of the performers the stage doorman would let you in after a bit of arguing. I saw many of the old time music hall acts from the wings such as Max Miller, Old Mother Riley, George Formby, and lots of others. Maybe they thought I was one of the cast with my uniform on.
Another good free entry was to Boscombe Football Club who played at Dean Court. They were then in the old Third Division South. After the war the football grounds were well attended and the average crowd to watch Boscombe was about sixteen thousand, and all well behaved. Usually only two or three policemen. If we had to work on a Saturday there was almost certain to be a few telegrams for the team to wish them luck. If no telegrams came in for them we would make one or two up on the spare printer in the office.
We then went to the football ground and waited until we heard the crowd cheer the teams on to the pitch. Entry was then by the player's entrance, along the corridor to a point behind the trainer's bench, gave the trainer the telegrams, stood just behind him and forgot to leave. We found out later that the Head Postmaster had a season ticket in the main stand but we never got told off so I guess he did not notice us or thought we were off duty.
There was one point in our lives that at least four messengers will not forget. A new lad had arrived at the Boscombe office to start after his initial training at the main office. He was a shy and reserved type of lad and did not mix at all well with the rest of us.
At this office the telegrams were handed to us through a sliding glass panel on to a shelf and sometimes there would be two or three piles for different messengers. It was quite easy for us who had been there for a while to take some of the long distance telegrams from our pile and put them in the new lads pile. This would allow us to have some spare time on our Walk so that we could go to Claude Faulkners snooker hall and have a game. The new lad was always being told off for being back late due to the extra distance he had to travel to deliver our telegrams.
His mother was cleaning his room one day and discovered a large amount of telegrams in a drawer. He had been so worried that he was getting back late from his Walks so he had hidden any telegrams that were left when his Walk time was up. His mother returned all the telegrams to the office and an investigation was set up. During the enquiries the Post Office Investigation Branch checked all the telegram numbers against the office dispatch sheets. This led to the discovery that many of the telegrams were booked out to other messengers. AH the messengers involved were interviewed and had to admit that we had placed some of our telegrams in with his. We all ended up having our pay increment suspended for six months. It was almost certain that our services would end at this stage if fate had not intervened. The school leaving age was raised in that year from fourteen to fifteen and that meant there would be no school leavers for two years. A large number of messengers left every year to become Postmen, Counter Clerks, and a few as Engineers, so new recruits were always required. They could not afford to loose any more that year as they would already be short of messengers so we were lucky.
No messenger can possibly forget the Miniworfer. I have no idea how it got that name or how it is spelt but it gave messengers hours of fun. It consisted of using pieces of old bicycle inner tubes, tying one end to a tap, and the other end was tied tight with a piece of string. The object was to turn on the tap and see how big it expanded before bursting. I would like to explain this was carried out in the yard, at sub offices and certainly not at the head office. Normally it was done with small pieces of tyre but one day we decided to use almost a whole tyre at the Southbourne office. Here it was tied to the tap in the outside toilet but it got so large that we could not get back in to turn off the tap. It was so gigantic that we decided to burst it with a knife and gallons of water flooded down the back steps and into the building. To our great relief it did no damage and we manage to clear it all up before the dragon Post Mistress found out.
The majority of the messengers wanted to ride the few motor cycles that were at the main office and longed for the required birthday to arrive so that they could take the necessary test. When I started as a messenger the motor cycles at that time were pre-war B.S.A. 250cc machines, with the gate type hand change gear lever on the side of the petrol tank. They had a governor fitted to the carburettor to ensure that the riders did not go at stupid speeds, but somehow the messengers managed to overcome this problem. At a later date the motor cycles were replaced with B.S.A. Bantam machines.
I preferred to stay at the sub offices where life was more free and easy, but I must admit it would have been better if the bicycles had been a lot lighter and had more than the one fixed gear. The senior messenger at the sub offices usually had the newest bike. I was never the senior messenger but I made sure that with a few alterations the bike I rode was in good order.
Due to inclement weather in this country we were issued with protective clothing which consisted of a reefer jacket, black waterproof cape, brown canvas leggings, and brown gloves. This was the days before lightweight plastic waterproofs, and cycling in high winds and pouring rain was not a pleasant experience. When not in use the cape and leggings were usually rolled up and tied round with a strap so that they could be attached to the saddle pillar of the bicycle, ready for any sudden downpour.
Due to extensions of the public counter area at Boscombe the messengers room had been moved from the ground floor to the front of the building on the third floor. One of the lads asked someone to throw his waterproofs down the stairwell to save him climbing up all the stairs to the third floor and back again. This request was granted but before the waterproofs could hit the ground floor they struck a fire extinguisher on attached to the wall. The extinguisher crashed to the ground, knocking off the safety catch and setting off the foam. In those days security was not such a problem and the door to the public counter was open allowing the foam to spray through all over the counter. Fortunately none of the public was in the line of fire. This was obviously an accident but it did not stop one of the lads ending up on punishment duty.
I can remember the terrible winter of 1947 when it was impossible for us messengers to use our bicycles due to the depth of snow. The first morning of this bad weather I was on the early morning seven o'clock start and got up at the usual time. On looking out I was amazed at the amount of snow that had fallen and knew that I would not be able to ride my bike to work, also that there would not be any public transport. I lived about three miles from the Head Office and as it was early in the morning I had to trample through undisturbed snow that had drifted quite deep in places. It was about eight thirty when I eventually reached the office but this was not the end of my agony. On this early shift you did not deliver telegrams but what were known as Express Packets. The area I had to deliver them on that morning was the Westcliffe part of Bournemouth. I cannot remember the exact locations these packets had to be delivered to, but I can remember falling and sliding down most of Beacon Road. This is one of the steepest roads in Bournemouth. It was many days before we were able to start using our bicycles to different parts of the town.
As messengers we were not allowed to cycle around together when delivering telegrams. This was known as Rooking. As part of the Senior Head Postman's duty he would tour various parts of the town checking on postmen and messengers to make sure they were carrying out their duties correctly. On the very odd occasion he caught messengers cycling together, but someone usually sported him and the word was quickly spread which area he was in.
One day two of us had decided to ride round together for company. We were in the better class area of Queens Park. This was a particularly hot summer's day and upon delivering a telegram to the lady of the house she asked if we would both like something to cool us down. We obviously expected her to return with two glasses of cold drink but we were in for a shock. To our amazement she offered us two large cabbage leaves which she informed us would be of beneficial as a cooling agent if we wore them inside our hats.
In 1945 very few people had the luxury of a telephone in their homes and therefore to get urgent messages to other parts of the country quickly they had to send telegrams. As this was the end of the war period many of the telegrams were of a military nature. Most of the large hotels in Bournemouth had been commandeered to house troops or to set up military offices. Both the Cumberland and Normandy hotels were used as main records offices for the British Army, and therefore they received large quantities of telegrams. More often than not there would be too many to fit into our pouches. At these hotels it was the usual procedure to hand the telegrams to the A.T.S. lady on the switchboard One evening I was given a number of different locations to deliver telegrams on my way home as it was the last shift duty. The very last location was the Normandy hotel and when I arrived the switchboard was not manned. After waiting a few minutes I could hear movement in the room behind and opened the door to ask if I could leave the telegrams. This was when I got the full significance of the song ' She will be wearing khaki bloomers when she comes ' because the soldier on top of the A.T.S. lady was up to something I had only read about but not actually seen.
There was an occasion when delivering a telegram to a large block of apartments called San Remo Towers I was asked into the apartment while the lady read the telegram. She asked me to sit down and sat next to me while she slowly undid the envelope. All the time she seemed to be taking more notice of me than in reading the telegram and asked me if I would like a drink. I told her that I did not drink tea or coffee so she asked if I would like something stronger. As I was only sixteen I had not started drinking intoxicating drinks so I refused the offer. By this time she had still not read the telegram and her thigh was definitely pressing closer to mine. As a young lad I was obviously out of my depth in this situation, so I beat a hasty exit by saying that I still had very urgent telegrams to deliver. My heart was thumping as I ran down the stairs, jumped on my bike and was away. This type of thing had apparently happened to other messengers but I don't know how many took advantage of the situation.
We had been told when we commenced work that the acceptance of tips was not permitted, but occasionally they were offered, usually at weddings or other joyful events. One of my best tips was the well known boxer of those days, the great Freddie Mills. He was staying with his mother in a small terraced house near the Central Station. When I knocked on the door Freddie himself answered it which was a great thrill for me. After reading the telegram he told me to wait and returned to present me with a two shilling coin which seemed a fortune in those days.
One of the more unpleasant aspects of the job was when a telegram informed someone of the death of a relative or close friend. As young lads we were not mature enough to deal with a person who became emotionally upset. It was just a case of saying you were sorry and walking away.
As more men resumed Post Office duties after their wartime experiences it was decided that the messengers
at sub offices had to be controlled with more discipline. The upshot of this was a Postman Higher Grade
appeared one day at the Boscombe office to take charge of the messengers, and life was never the same after
that.
Fortunately for me the chance to take the examination to become a Post Office Engineer came along and two
of us out of twelve managed to pass it.
Just over two years of my life wearing a Pillbox Hat had passed very quickly, although my poor old mum always maintained it had put ten years on her.
John Seymour
Boy Telegram Messenger. T29 Bournemouth
This all began during my last year at school when I discussed with my parents which type of employment I should think of seeking. As I had not passed the examination to attend a Grammar school it meant that I would be leaving school at fourteen. Two of the subjects I had been good at were mathematics and woodworking. One of the things I did fancy a try at was to become a chef but it was pointed out to me that they worked very unsociable hours. The next was to be a carpenter because I preferred to use my hands but I did not wish to be stuck in a workshop all day.
One of the things my parents did discuss with me was to look for a job that provided a pension at the end of the employment. At fourteen the thought of something that was going to happen in fifty-one years time seemed of little consequence but the path chosen was proved to be the right one.
It all commenced on the 27th July 1945, the day I changed from a schoolboy to a working man, or maybe at fourteen a working lad. On leaving school a teacher had informed me that I would be lucky if anyone would employ me for more than ten minutes so I was not certain what to expect on this day.
The start of my career was to begin as a Boy Messenger for the General Post Office and I had no idea where it was to lead me.
My letter of appointment instructed me to report to the main office in Post Office Road in Bournemouth by 9.00am. Dressed in my new jacket and trousers, my short back and sides haircut slicked back with Brylcream I felt certain to give a good impression.
The letter informed me that I should introduce myself to either Mr Bundy or Mr Roberts who were the Head Postmen in charge of all the Boy Messengers in the Bournemouth and Poole postal areas. In the first few weeks I felt certain that these two gentlemen had been hand picked to control and discipline the fifty or more lads between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. With hindsight I think that with all the aggravation they had to put up with from us youngsters they must have been given the job as a punishment.
Mr Roberts was on duty the first day I started and after filling in the form for the Official Secrets Act, and various other forms, he introduced me to some of the messengers. There were five or six of them sitting on wooden benches around an old enamel table and I joined them. Mr Roberts sat at a high desk in the corner of the room and every so often would call out a number and one of the messengers would get up and go the desk where Mr Roberts would hand him a number of telegrams. The numbers he called out were not in any sequence and I could not fathom out how they knew who had to go to the desk. The messenger I was talking too suddenly stood up and said it was his turn and went to the desk. The penny had at last dropped and I realised that all the messengers had a brass plate with a letter and number on the left breast of their tunic, and for the next few years I would also be just a number in the General Post Office.
The first day was mainly a case of sitting around and chatting, and I was pleased that most of the lads were very friendly. It also gave me an opportunity to ask about the type of working conditions I could expect to encounter. I was also issued with an armband indicating that I was an official Post Office Messenger, a black leather belt with a large interlocking brass fastening, and a black leather pouch which slid onto the belt. This was to carry the telegrams in. To complete this collection I was given two oval shaped badges with a crown on top and in the centre was a letter T with the number 29 under it. One of the badges was for my tunic and the other to put on my pillbox hat when they both arrived. From that day on I was known as Messenger T29.
In the next few days I had the usual pranks played on me that was part of the new boys initiation but fortunately it did not go beyond the realms of pain or decency. Mr Bundy did tell me that to get a really good shine on my belt and pouch I should polish them with pigeon's milk. He informed me that it could be obtained from the health food shop that was in Post Office Rd. The shopkeeper was wise to this and asked me to bring along a bottle next day. Fortunately I mentioned it to my dad that evening and he told me that many had been caught by this joke. Many were also caught out by being sent to the store and asking for the skirting ladder.
For the first week I was sent out with various messengers to learn the different areas that were referred to as Walks, and each Walk had a number from one to five. When the telegrams arrived in the messenger's room they were divided into the appropriate Walk and allocated to a messenger. This meant that messengers would not be dashing from one side of the town to the other. All telegrams had a serial number which was entered on a sheet against the messenger's number, the time he left the office, and the estimated time of his return, depending on the Walk and the number of telegrams he had to deliver. Sometimes there were only a few and other times it was a job to close the pouch. Many a messenger would return late with some lame excuse, like his chain had come off or he could not find the address. The truth being he had been in a cafe or chatting to one of his girlfriends.
The Post Office counters and the main postal sorting office were in a building on the opposite side of the road to the telegraph office and the telephone exchange. The counter building also included the canteen for all the workers and was situated on the top floor. For most of the messengers this was a good opportunity to meet the girls of the same age who had also just commenced work for the General Post Office. Their official title was Girl Probationers and they worked in the telegraph office and the telephone exchange. The canteen offered a chance to sit with the girls and chat over a cup of tea and a sticky bun. As the canteen was on the top floor it was reached by a lift, and many a kiss and a cuddle was enjoyed by the youngsters on the trips up and down to the canteen.
The big day arrived when my uniform was ready and to my great surprise it fitted very well, except for the pillbox hat, but a strip of cardboard inside the hat band made it a reasonable fit. One of the things I learned from the older lads was that they did not like the height of new pillbox hats. The remedy for this was to soak them in a bucket of water and then slowly dry them in a hot oven. On receiving my new hat I thought I would try this out, so a good soaking overnight then early next morning into the oven. I was on late shift that day and had the morning off so I went out until lunchtime. When I arrived home my mum said she had noticed the hat in the oven and had turned it off. When I opened the oven the hat looked fine but as soon as I got hold of the peak the rest of it disintegrated into a pile of ashes. I had to inform the office that it had blown off and a lorry had run over it and ruined it completely. Mr Bundy explained that the chinstrap was not on the hat for decoration but as I was new to the job he would order a new one and not make me pay for it this time. A cup was presented each year to the best all round messenger, both for smart appearance and good conduct. I realised very early in my career that although I tried to maintain a smart appearance I had no chance of winning the cup for my behaviour. This applied to many of us.
In those days we did not have pay packets but had to sign a large alphabetical sheet weekly and your wages were handed to you in cash. My first pay day I had not completed a full week and when I presented myself for this momentous occasion I was asked if I had four pennies as the paying officer only had a One Pound note, and my pay was nineteen shillings and eight pence. It soon rose to the princely sum of twenty eight shillings per week and quite a lot of this went to my mum for housekeeping.
A lot of the time as a messenger was pretty ordinary but being lads of that age we got up to rather a lot of mischief and looking back some of it was rather irresponsible.
As I have stated the two Head Postmen controlled the main office at Bournemouth but there were sub offices at Poole, Parkstone, Southbourne, and Boscombe. These offices each had five messengers who worked on a shift system. I spent most of my messenger service at the Boscombe and Southbourne offices. To the delight of the messengers we had young ladies in charge at the sub offices that operated the teleprinters and also gave out the telegrams to the messengers. They in effect took the place of the Head Postmen but certainly did not have the same control over us. The exception was at the Southbourne office because the Head Postmistress was the most frightening woman a young lad could wish to meet. An elderly spinster with piercing eyes who came to work on an old upright bicycle but we felt it should have been on a broomstick. I am certain that her greatest hate in life was Boy Messengers and she had to suffer many over the years.
On numerous occasions she informed Mr Bundy that she did not wish to have me working at the Southbourne office but due to holidays and sickness I was sent there and therefore we both had to suffer at various times. It was easy to understand her dislike of messengers because we were inclined to make life annoying for her. One of are favourite pranks was to tilt forward a large cabinet which held all the forms , documents, and stationary items necessary to run a Post Office counter. This meant that when she opened the doors all the papers would come tumbling out on to the floor. It took her ages to sort them all out in the proper order. One day we tilted the cabinet too far and it slid to the ground and the brass handles embedded themselves into the doors. Three of us ended up doing extra duty with no pay and sent back to the main office on punishment duties. My punishment duty entailed minor repairs to the official bicycles, such as mending punctures and fitting new brake blocks. All the major repairs were sent to a cycle repair shop in Holdenhurst Rd and I did not mind delivering and collecting the bicycles that needed the attention of the cycle experts. I was not clocked in and out doing this work so it gave me a chance to wander up or down Old Christchurch Rd and look in the shop widows. In some ways I enjoyed being sent back to the main office as it gave me a chance to chat to the Girl Probationers. At that age most of the friendships did not last long as there was so many of us and the competition was strong for the prettiest girls.
One of the peculiarities when working at the main office was asking for the keys. The toilets in the yard were kept locked so that messengers would not hide in there. The reason for this was because the first messenger to report back in the office from a Walk would be the next one in line to be sent out with more telegrams. If you were unlucky you could be sent out again immediately or you could be lucky and have a long sit down and a good chat with your mates. If you were crafty you could get more than one lad to report in before you. The new messengers were often caught in this way. If you wished to use the toilets you had to ask the Head Postman on duty for the keys so you could unlock and then return them when finished. This sometimes gave you the chance to let a mate hide there until you gave back the key.
Most of my messenger service was spent at the Boscombe sub office and this suited me fine as I lived in Boscombe. Most of the time it was the same five messengers there and we all got on very well. The original messenger's room was just inside the main gate and on the ground floor so we could stand by the gate and watch all the shop girls going to work. In those days girls were becoming an important part of our lives, but on reflection we spent more time chasing them than executing our fantasies, although I must admit that the air raid shelters at the back of the Post Office could tell a few tales.
At this period in time there were far less traffic lights and a lot of the traffic was controlled by policemen on traffic duty. The crossroads at Christchurch Rd and Ashley Rd was one such place and not far from our office. When the policemen changed duties here they would come to into our office for a crafty cigarette as they were not supposed to smoke on duty. We got to know them quite well and if they saw us approaching the crossroads on our bikes they would often hold up the traffic to let us through. Another messenger and I were waiting at the lights one day and an open back lorry pulled up next to us carrying boxes of fruit. During the war fruit from abroad was not seen but this was 1946. Fruit was just appearing again and this lorry had a box of pineapples on it. I lifted one of the pineapples to show my mate and as I did so the lorry drove off and left me holding it The policeman had seen what had happened, just gave a laugh, and told us to scram after I explained that it was not my intention to steal the pineapple. He was one of our cigarette smoking friends and he let us keep it.
In the outer wall of this messengers room was the back of the public postage stamp machine. It was the responsibility of the staff in the telegraph room to ensure the rolls of stamps did not run out and also to collect the money mat had been deposited for the stamps. As there was no connecting door between these rooms it meant that the ladies had to walk out the back door and round the yard to get into the messengers room to complete these tasks. Often it was cold or raining and as there was a sliding glass panel between the rooms they would ask us to carry out these duties for them.
In those days the stamp machines were not noted for there reliability. The stamps and cash did not always tally up, and certain foreign coins would operate the machines. I am not suggesting that money was stolen but after the stamp machine operation was carried out there was usually a lovely hot lardy cake from Palmers bakery in Ashiey Rd available for enjoyable consumption.
We were issued with vouchers for our dinners at Sub Offices, as there were no canteen facilities. At Boscombe office we were supposed to use the British Restaurant in Holdenhurst Rd but most of us preferred to use a cafe in Pokesdown, which supplied to dinners for the Southbourne office. The British Restaurants were started at the beginning of the war and supplied meals to workers who could not travel far from their war time employment. I remember the food was very basic due to war time restrictions, and the cooks left a lot to be desired. The cafe was not the most salubrious dining establishment but the food was good.
The hours of duty for messengers consisted of six hour shifts. The first was from seven am to one pm and the last was from two pm to eight pm. There were two different shifts in between these times. These operated for seven days a week except at the sub offices that were closed on Sundays. The sub offices started at eight am and the last shift finished at seven pm. At the Boscombe office we devised a ploy to get away early if we were on the late shift. The teleprinters closed down at six thirty at the sub offices. Any telegrams that came in after that time were delivered by motor cycle messengers from the main office to the whole of the Bournemouth area. We discovered that by placing a small coin in the light socket in the messenger's room and switching on the circuit it would fuse all the lights on the ground floor. As the telegraph operators were all young ladies they had no idea where the fuse box was or how to mend a fuse if they found it. Fuses in those days had to be mended with a new fuse wire. This meant that they had to stop work and could not receive anymore telegrams that night. It was strange how the fuses blew about six pm. We could not use this ploy very often but it was handy on special occasions. A postman from the sorting office would sometimes mend the fuse but by that time we had already gone home.
This was the end of the war period and many things had not been available for many years. I can remember the day I had to take a telegram to Fyffes banana depot in Palmerston Rd to inform them that the first load of bananas since the war had arrived at Southampton Docks and were ready for collection. The manager was so pleased that he promised me some if I called back in a few days. A couple of days later I presented myself in his office and to my surprise he gave me a whole hand of bananas which I took back to the office. Unfortunately I did not listen to the manager who told me to wait a few days and let the bananas ripen. We thought we would try some but all ended up with bad stomach pains and frequent trips to the whitewash building at the end of the yard. At all the Post Offices we worked at the toilets were in separate buildings in the back yards and none had heating so a long stop was not an option. Another reason was many of the messengers suffered from acne and were advised that sulphur tablets were a good remedy. Maybe they were but it certainly made sure you did not loiter in the toilet block.
Telegrams could get you into many places that normally you would have to pay an admission charge, or even not be allowed in at all. If you insisted that the telegram had to be handed direct to the person named on the envelope it opened many doors. One of my favourites was to deliver telegrams to the Stars appearing at the Hippodrome Theatre in Boscombe. If you could manage on your last Walk to get telegrams for any of the performers the stage doorman would let you in after a bit of arguing. I saw many of the old time music hall acts from the wings such as Max Miller, Old Mother Riley, George Formby, and lots of others. Maybe they thought I was one of the cast with my uniform on.
Another good free entry was to Boscombe Football Club who played at Dean Court. They were then in the old Third Division South. After the war the football grounds were well attended and the average crowd to watch Boscombe was about sixteen thousand, and all well behaved. Usually only two or three policemen. If we had to work on a Saturday there was almost certain to be a few telegrams for the team to wish them luck. If no telegrams came in for them we would make one or two up on the spare printer in the office.
We then went to the football ground and waited until we heard the crowd cheer the teams on to the pitch. Entry was then by the player's entrance, along the corridor to a point behind the trainer's bench, gave the trainer the telegrams, stood just behind him and forgot to leave. We found out later that the Head Postmaster had a season ticket in the main stand but we never got told off so I guess he did not notice us or thought we were off duty.
There was one point in our lives that at least four messengers will not forget. A new lad had arrived at the Boscombe office to start after his initial training at the main office. He was a shy and reserved type of lad and did not mix at all well with the rest of us.
At this office the telegrams were handed to us through a sliding glass panel on to a shelf and sometimes there would be two or three piles for different messengers. It was quite easy for us who had been there for a while to take some of the long distance telegrams from our pile and put them in the new lads pile. This would allow us to have some spare time on our Walk so that we could go to Claude Faulkners snooker hall and have a game. The new lad was always being told off for being back late due to the extra distance he had to travel to deliver our telegrams.
His mother was cleaning his room one day and discovered a large amount of telegrams in a drawer. He had been so worried that he was getting back late from his Walks so he had hidden any telegrams that were left when his Walk time was up. His mother returned all the telegrams to the office and an investigation was set up. During the enquiries the Post Office Investigation Branch checked all the telegram numbers against the office dispatch sheets. This led to the discovery that many of the telegrams were booked out to other messengers. AH the messengers involved were interviewed and had to admit that we had placed some of our telegrams in with his. We all ended up having our pay increment suspended for six months. It was almost certain that our services would end at this stage if fate had not intervened. The school leaving age was raised in that year from fourteen to fifteen and that meant there would be no school leavers for two years. A large number of messengers left every year to become Postmen, Counter Clerks, and a few as Engineers, so new recruits were always required. They could not afford to loose any more that year as they would already be short of messengers so we were lucky.
No messenger can possibly forget the Miniworfer. I have no idea how it got that name or how it is spelt but it gave messengers hours of fun. It consisted of using pieces of old bicycle inner tubes, tying one end to a tap, and the other end was tied tight with a piece of string. The object was to turn on the tap and see how big it expanded before bursting. I would like to explain this was carried out in the yard, at sub offices and certainly not at the head office. Normally it was done with small pieces of tyre but one day we decided to use almost a whole tyre at the Southbourne office. Here it was tied to the tap in the outside toilet but it got so large that we could not get back in to turn off the tap. It was so gigantic that we decided to burst it with a knife and gallons of water flooded down the back steps and into the building. To our great relief it did no damage and we manage to clear it all up before the dragon Post Mistress found out.
The majority of the messengers wanted to ride the few motor cycles that were at the main office and longed for the required birthday to arrive so that they could take the necessary test. When I started as a messenger the motor cycles at that time were pre-war B.S.A. 250cc machines, with the gate type hand change gear lever on the side of the petrol tank. They had a governor fitted to the carburettor to ensure that the riders did not go at stupid speeds, but somehow the messengers managed to overcome this problem. At a later date the motor cycles were replaced with B.S.A. Bantam machines.
I preferred to stay at the sub offices where life was more free and easy, but I must admit it would have been better if the bicycles had been a lot lighter and had more than the one fixed gear. The senior messenger at the sub offices usually had the newest bike. I was never the senior messenger but I made sure that with a few alterations the bike I rode was in good order.
Due to inclement weather in this country we were issued with protective clothing which consisted of a reefer jacket, black waterproof cape, brown canvas leggings, and brown gloves. This was the days before lightweight plastic waterproofs, and cycling in high winds and pouring rain was not a pleasant experience. When not in use the cape and leggings were usually rolled up and tied round with a strap so that they could be attached to the saddle pillar of the bicycle, ready for any sudden downpour.
Due to extensions of the public counter area at Boscombe the messengers room had been moved from the ground floor to the front of the building on the third floor. One of the lads asked someone to throw his waterproofs down the stairwell to save him climbing up all the stairs to the third floor and back again. This request was granted but before the waterproofs could hit the ground floor they struck a fire extinguisher on attached to the wall. The extinguisher crashed to the ground, knocking off the safety catch and setting off the foam. In those days security was not such a problem and the door to the public counter was open allowing the foam to spray through all over the counter. Fortunately none of the public was in the line of fire. This was obviously an accident but it did not stop one of the lads ending up on punishment duty.
I can remember the terrible winter of 1947 when it was impossible for us messengers to use our bicycles due to the depth of snow. The first morning of this bad weather I was on the early morning seven o'clock start and got up at the usual time. On looking out I was amazed at the amount of snow that had fallen and knew that I would not be able to ride my bike to work, also that there would not be any public transport. I lived about three miles from the Head Office and as it was early in the morning I had to trample through undisturbed snow that had drifted quite deep in places. It was about eight thirty when I eventually reached the office but this was not the end of my agony. On this early shift you did not deliver telegrams but what were known as Express Packets. The area I had to deliver them on that morning was the Westcliffe part of Bournemouth. I cannot remember the exact locations these packets had to be delivered to, but I can remember falling and sliding down most of Beacon Road. This is one of the steepest roads in Bournemouth. It was many days before we were able to start using our bicycles to different parts of the town.
As messengers we were not allowed to cycle around together when delivering telegrams. This was known as Rooking. As part of the Senior Head Postman's duty he would tour various parts of the town checking on postmen and messengers to make sure they were carrying out their duties correctly. On the very odd occasion he caught messengers cycling together, but someone usually sported him and the word was quickly spread which area he was in.
One day two of us had decided to ride round together for company. We were in the better class area of Queens Park. This was a particularly hot summer's day and upon delivering a telegram to the lady of the house she asked if we would both like something to cool us down. We obviously expected her to return with two glasses of cold drink but we were in for a shock. To our amazement she offered us two large cabbage leaves which she informed us would be of beneficial as a cooling agent if we wore them inside our hats.
In 1945 very few people had the luxury of a telephone in their homes and therefore to get urgent messages to other parts of the country quickly they had to send telegrams. As this was the end of the war period many of the telegrams were of a military nature. Most of the large hotels in Bournemouth had been commandeered to house troops or to set up military offices. Both the Cumberland and Normandy hotels were used as main records offices for the British Army, and therefore they received large quantities of telegrams. More often than not there would be too many to fit into our pouches. At these hotels it was the usual procedure to hand the telegrams to the A.T.S. lady on the switchboard One evening I was given a number of different locations to deliver telegrams on my way home as it was the last shift duty. The very last location was the Normandy hotel and when I arrived the switchboard was not manned. After waiting a few minutes I could hear movement in the room behind and opened the door to ask if I could leave the telegrams. This was when I got the full significance of the song ' She will be wearing khaki bloomers when she comes ' because the soldier on top of the A.T.S. lady was up to something I had only read about but not actually seen.
There was an occasion when delivering a telegram to a large block of apartments called San Remo Towers I was asked into the apartment while the lady read the telegram. She asked me to sit down and sat next to me while she slowly undid the envelope. All the time she seemed to be taking more notice of me than in reading the telegram and asked me if I would like a drink. I told her that I did not drink tea or coffee so she asked if I would like something stronger. As I was only sixteen I had not started drinking intoxicating drinks so I refused the offer. By this time she had still not read the telegram and her thigh was definitely pressing closer to mine. As a young lad I was obviously out of my depth in this situation, so I beat a hasty exit by saying that I still had very urgent telegrams to deliver. My heart was thumping as I ran down the stairs, jumped on my bike and was away. This type of thing had apparently happened to other messengers but I don't know how many took advantage of the situation.
We had been told when we commenced work that the acceptance of tips was not permitted, but occasionally they were offered, usually at weddings or other joyful events. One of my best tips was the well known boxer of those days, the great Freddie Mills. He was staying with his mother in a small terraced house near the Central Station. When I knocked on the door Freddie himself answered it which was a great thrill for me. After reading the telegram he told me to wait and returned to present me with a two shilling coin which seemed a fortune in those days.
One of the more unpleasant aspects of the job was when a telegram informed someone of the death of a relative or close friend. As young lads we were not mature enough to deal with a person who became emotionally upset. It was just a case of saying you were sorry and walking away.
As more men resumed Post Office duties after their wartime experiences it was decided that the messengers
at sub offices had to be controlled with more discipline. The upshot of this was a Postman Higher Grade
appeared one day at the Boscombe office to take charge of the messengers, and life was never the same after
that.
Fortunately for me the chance to take the examination to become a Post Office Engineer came along and two
of us out of twelve managed to pass it.
Just over two years of my life wearing a Pillbox Hat had passed very quickly, although my poor old mum always maintained it had put ten years on her.
John Seymour
Boy Telegram Messenger. T29 Bournemouth