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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:59:01 GMT
I delivered the first �75,000 pools win to a Birmingham woman who didn�t give me a tip, but when I went to take out an �800 win later in the day the winner was so chuffed she emptied her purse out into my hands.
Frank Hood
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:58:44 GMT
I was a telegram boy in 1944 and had to deliver tragic news of death to a young widow at the age of just 14. I had to get neighbours round to the house to console the widow before I handed over the message it was extremely difficult
Albert Baker
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:58:24 GMT
I delivered a telegram to Mrs Smith who was feeding her baby in the street surrounded by friends. Her friend opened the telegram and shouted out �what are you going to do about the baby ? � your husband�s coming home and he�s been a POW for six years
Doug Britton
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:58:01 GMT
I remember starting as a boy messenger in Pinfold Street in 1962.
I was given an armband to wear while I waited for a uniform.
I was assigned to another chap that had been there for a few weeks to show me the ropes.
We sat on chairs placed around the edge of the room with a counter with a metal grill where a man sat, he had crowns on his lapels, he was known as the PHG. The room was called the telegraph delivery.
I remember there was an air filled tube between the Instrument Gallery (IG) that the telegrams came down for delivery.
The PHG would send us out in turn to deliver the telegrams. This was known as a Whip. I do not know what it stands for or means, but when you were out delivering it was known as out on the Whip.
If the PHG took a dislike to you he would send you on foot to Lawley Street Goods Railway Station, the longest point from the Office.
Keith Cheshire
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:57:32 GMT
I recall an occasion when I was covering the Return Letter Branch (RLB) duty.
The office was in Clay Lane in Yardley. It employed all disable people opening the undelivered mail and returning it to sender. The boy messengers job had the job of resealing the envelopes with a white seal.
One of the tasks of the duty was at 2pm every day to bring a briefcase full of paperwork from the RLB to the registry in the Head Office in Pinfold Street.
It was a very hot day and Clay Lane was quite a steep hill carrying this briefcase. At the Coventry Road you caught a bus into town.
When I got on the bus I took my hat off because I was so hot. When I got to town I got off the bus and walked across town. Just as I approached the HO I remembered I had left my hat on the bus. I had no choice I went to report it to the Inspector of Messengers (Wilf Cox) he was not amused. He asked me what the number of the bus. On that day I had decided to catch a Midland Red bus, he hit the roof when I told him.
He told me to take the briefcase to the registry and come back and see him afterwards.
When I went back to see him, he gave me a lecture about wearing my hat, said they had found the hat and it was at the bus station, and I had better get down there to get it back.
Keith Cheshire
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:57:17 GMT
On one occasion I was given an envelope to delivery to an address in Erdington. On arrival at the house there was a guy with a camera, and as I handed over the letter to the man at the house, this guy took a picture. The letter contained a thank you and a cheque for an amount of money, apparently this man had reported someone damaging a phone box and this was his reward. I returned to the office thinking no more of the incident. Some days later I was sent for by the Inspector of Messengers, on entering his office he had a copy of the Birmingham Evening Mail. He then showed me this picture the guy had taken when I delivered the letter to Erdington. The picture was taken from the back of me, unfortunately at the time my hair was a little long and hanging over my collar. The Inspector was not very pleased as you were expected to keep your hair short it was just my luck this guy took the picture from the angle he did. I never got sent anywhere again. Keith Cheshire 62 - 67 (wag)
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:56:00 GMT
Originally posted by Nancy Alexander
Hello Chris, Nice to hear you've got such happy memories of Alex. The website really is a good idea and it's lovely to be able to hear everybody's stories. All the best, Nancy Alexander
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:55:33 GMT
Originally posted by Chris Collier
ABSOLUTELY MARVELLOUS
Reading your entry was great. I remember "Alex" as the Inspector of messengers. and I must say that I remember him with affection. I had done something which might have given me the sack and he had to deal with it. I was given the usual P18 to give my explanation as to why ..... When I was later transferred to Oxford GPO, he showed me the report and said that as there had not been a complaint made, he had not submitted the P18 to the Superintendent. (I think his name was Fazackerly or something like that) So I was in the clear. That means that I have Alex to thank for the rest of my career. How interesting this messenger website is. And now there are three of us on it, and we each experienced the wartime situation in Portsmouth I was T7 then and when I got to Oxford I became T35 and that is the badge that I managed to keep when I was promoted. Still have it.
Thank you for leting me recall such happy memories. All best wishes Chris Collier cecollier@supanet.com
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:54:39 GMT
Originally posted by Nancy AlexanderTo All Telegram Messenger Boys in the HPO Commercial Road, Portsmouth ;- I am sure you will remember my husband�s father Mr Alexander 'Alec', who was the inspector in charge of the boys during the 40�s and 50�s. He was a very good man. My husband, Brian (also called Alec), joined the PO on the 26th August 1943, the day after his 14th birthday. �T16� As he was not allowed to work at the same office as his father, he was sent to Gosport. Quite a journey during wartime! In Brian's words; "As you will all remember, it was terrible time, delivering Telegrams to relatives who had lost loved ones, sometimes going to the same house twice, especially for a fourteen-year-old boy. Delivering telegrams to Priddy�s Yard and other naval and army establishments was a bit frightening, with all the guns firing at the German planes. The noise was terrific. Another experience was being caught on the ferryboat, during an air raid. The boat had to stop in the middle of the harbour, with all the ships firing their guns at the aircraft and the German planes dive-bombing the ships. I remember during the days before D-Day, cycling out to Stokes Bay, where all the troops were gathered, the soldiers giving me letters to post their loved ones, perhaps the last they ever wrote. Pockets bulging I rode back to the office, and sent them on their way. At the end of the war, delivering telegrams with the news that the Prisoners of War were on their way home was happier times. They were very memorable days. I then went to work at Cosham, but that is another story, tell you later!"
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:51:15 GMT
Originally posted by malcolmB59
If you worked at Selly Oak, A misdemeanour was no joke. It was into the bag room and trousers down, Where six of the best brought more than a frown. Old Mr Trotter for all of his sins, Gave out some thrashings instead of the "skins". So our records stayed clean"It's for the best"he would say, So we got on our bikes and rode away.
For-- Ralph Clarrie,Tony Parsons,Kenny Newport, John Such Mick Skip.Johnny Rotherham,(john) Malcolm Bailey.And many more that my age old brain can not remember.
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:50:41 GMT
Originally posted by Paul
what a great tale, many thanks, more please _________________ paul girling
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:49:53 GMT
Originally posted by Chris
Gertie Hill! Two words that would strike terror into the heart of any wag working the late shift at Selly Oak; the shift was 12.12 till 8.25 - now aren�t those the strangest of strange hours? I mean what was the matter with 12-00 till 8.15 or even 8.13 if they had to be so precise but that was in 1961, before The Beatles, when one of the Inspectors of Messengers � a certain Mister Drinkwater � would call the wags to attention at the commencement of duty; needless to say he didn�t last very long.
But I digress: Gertie Hill was a gentle old lady who was one of the telegraphists who would whip us out when the PHG went home at around six; the others were George, who seemed to have loads of kids, Tinkerbelle Jackson and Katie McCullough - the Bridget Bardot of Belfast; oh Katie McCullough had all the wags dreaming about her and she even dated the dark horse Johnny Rees but there again he did have a slight resemblance to Elvis.
Gertie had a saying �I tell you why� which even now, every time I hear it, I want to say �because I have a TMO.� She would come up to us late at night, when we thought we were going home and say �I want you to go to Northfield; I tell you why;� and we all knew why and it was because she had a TMO � a telegraph money order. Even now my wife will ask me to do something and say �I�ll tell you why� and I will ask �because you�ve got a TMO?� Of course she�s learned not to say it any more and on the odd times that I forget myself and say it she says it � she knows what a TMO is because she used to be a telegraphist at head office.
So off we would go to Northfield or Edgbaston or some other place miles away from the office with the TMO and come back to find the big gate locked; in the day time we would go up the drive, off Bristol Road, and ride straight into the yard but when Gertie was on duty she would lock the big gate. She did this for security purposes and from this lofty age it�s quite understandable but back then, when we would wait outside the door, ringing the bell, dying for a pee and waiting for Gertie to hear us we didn�t understand.
She would eventually get off the phone or come away from the telegraph machine and let us in. Then we had to go and open the big gate, ride our bikes in and close the big date again.
But we were naughty boys let�s face it; those bantams had metal foot rests which sparks would fly from if we scraped them on the ground as we went around corners and this we did constantly especially if girls were looking at us.
I used to do a little trick at night in the yard when I would lean the foot rest on the floor and open the throttle; this would cause the bike to spin around in circles and the sparks to fly and together with the headlight spinning around like an air raid searchlight in the darkness and the high revs would bring Gertie running into the yard wondering what was going on; of course I deserved to come a cropper but I didn�t but I have to confess I thought it was great fun.
I don�t know where Gertie is now, don�t know whether she�s alive or dead, but she certainly was a character and when I think about it she was probably about the same age then as I am now but even if that is true I have to say if there is one thing I would like to do it would be to get on to one of those bantams, lean it onto the foot rest and spin it around in the darkness like I used to do � I�ll tell you why ����.
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:49:26 GMT
I started my postal career at Wimpole Street in 1933 age 14 years old I was 4'9inches tall and they sent me out with a messenger boy who was 6'2inches tall to learn the district, I suppose it was quite a commical sight We had to line up each morning to be inspected for smartness all the brass buttons , belt buckle and cap badge had to be highly polished the black leather belt had to be polished too Those of us who were complimented were called ' dazzers ' The big boots took some getting used to , I thought I had nails coming through , but when my boots came off my feet were full of blisters I was on 12 shillings a week and was paid four pence an hour over time and also had to pay two pence to join the union per week I got to know every street in the westend, and was often asked by people who were lost, and I always knew where to direct them I soon got to know all the big hotels and was always interested to see what they were like inside It was also good to get messages for stars at theatres, because going round to the stage door you would sometimes meet the stars. I never ever got any tips but we always want to take the messages to one bookies (Turf Accounts) in Bond Street because we were always given 3 cigarettes upon delivery of the messages The BBC at Langham Place was also interesting, but you never got beyond the reception desk Some of the addresses in Soho were a little scary at times I had a message once for a 'Lady of the Streets' and when I knocked at her door she called out "Iam in here" a door opened on the landing and she was sitting on the Loo and calmly held out her hand for the message After a time I left Wimpole Strret and was sent to Rathbone Place ,sometimes when there were a few boys waiting to be sent out , we were given a job which we called 'dirt track' we had to visit a few post offices and sweep the floors with a dustpan and broom and get our dockets stamped to say we had done the job I forgot to say that when I first started going out on my own I was frightened to take too long because your docket was stamped "Excess" once or twice I would run most of the way. The first time I went out I forgot where the post office was , so I had to ask a passer by , he must have thought I was joking My last two years at Rathbone Place was as a "Tube Attendant" messages came from HQ through a tube in a small pouch and I had to put the messages in envelopes and pass them to the person in charge of the messengers who of course would deliver them When I left at 18 years old I was a postman for a few weeks then a sorter at the Foreign Section at chief office and then on to the counter. When I left the counter I became a Postal Execative mostly in charge of the P.O.Counters In 1940 I was called up and joined the Argle & Sutherland Highlanders Infantry I was with them for 6 years .I was on the beaches of Normandy,was wounded,and after a long time in hospital spent the rest of the time in Scotland. I married my wife Peggy in 1940 we have been happily married for 67 years. Peggy is 84 and I am 88 years old (2007) Charles (Bob) Gibbins
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:48:18 GMT
Hello, having read your article regarding Post Office Messengers in last night's Manchester (Evening News 16th november 2007)
I'm writing to say that I was a member of that elite group, 1951-1954 before becoming a Postman Driver.
Regards Derek Warren
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Post by Matt James on Apr 13, 2009 14:47:57 GMT
Hi I was a messenger boy from 1965 and was based at the W.C.D.O. office in New Oxford Street WC1
I was then known by my adopted name Les Jones of which I changed back to salter in 1978 when I got married . I was a messenger boy untill I was 21 as I worked in the registry up to that time, I went onto complete 39 year sservice taking redundancy at the age of 55.
I would like to get in touch with any other ex messengers boys of my era, can you help,
best regards
Les Jones
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