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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:03:02 GMT
GPO MESSENGER BOY 1946 - 1950
I, Maurice Crowe was a GPO messenger boy No. T20 in Nottingham and joined the service at the age of 13.11 years at £1.2.6p per week.I was a small youth of 7stone+ and about 4" 8" in height and couldn't ride a bike. How I got the job amazes me but I suppose having a family tradition of working for the GPO (my Grandfather was doorman to the Head Postmaster) may have had something to do with it. I joined a force of 70 messengers at the Old Post Office in Queen St and the building being Victorian lent the air of a very 19th century attitude prevailing in the GPO. I rode the heavy iron Federation cycles with only one gear up hills and down dales, for Nottingham has plenty of steep hills, delivering telegrams for 4 years. In my uniform with a pill box hat and a black leather pouch attached to a black strap around my waist I pedalled through all weathers growing stronger and becoming weather beaten. We worked 48 hours per week and were expected to attend when scheduled on Bank Holidays, at hourly rate of l.l/4hrs with a day in lieu taken at a later date, and Sundays and Good Friday at 1% times the hourly rate. The first shift began at 6.30am and at each succeeding hour from 7am to 12am a fresh force came on duty to complete an 8 hour stint including meal breaks of 20 minutes for a short break and 40 minutes for a main meal. We were inspected by a Mr Stan Day Head Postman, a WW1 veteran who had only one lung,before beginning duty and if our uniform, pouch and boots were not up to standard we were sent home to clean up and begin our tour of duty an hour later which meant we finished an hour later. The contents of each pouch was examined to ascertain if it contained a pencil,a copy of the PO Rules on Telegraph Delivery,a telegram pad for any reply a recipient may want to send and a slip to advise a person of a telegram when they were not at home to receive it. All telegrams must be delivered to the address on the yellow envelope; we were instructed not to post it in a letter box and every effort was made to locate the person for whom the telegram was intended. Boys being boys we got up to all sorts of activities not necessarily within the strict PO rules. Beaning was one of those illicit occupations - one boy gets his telegrams for delivery and asks another where he's going and they decide they will deliver them together even although the journeys are in the opposite direction. Of course each boy comes back later than the scheduled time. Stan Day was a wily bird he would confront the boys and say directly 'you two have been beaning and I'm giving you a P18 (an offence docket) to explain the lateness'. Our explanation would begin 'Dear Sir' and ended with the words above our signature 'I remain,Sir your most obedient servant"which we obviously were not. A fine or extra hours duty would be the punishment. Stan loved the boys really and always dealt fairly with them; and was well respected. One incident resulted in some damage to PO property it may have been the football game which took place in the old sorting office in the Queen St building where the ball was kicked through a plate glass window. The glass disintegrated to reveal shocked clerks serving at the counter, as a result all the boys were lined up to be addressed by the Head Postmaster A table was laid out with a cloth and the boss appeared in a morning suit - striped trousers and a frock coat with a top hat which he laid on the table. Surrounded by his senior officers he berated us all threatening us with dismissal should anyone in the future be caught damaging PO property. All new messengers were subjected to an initiation ceremony. This involved turning each boy upside down and while dipping his head into the toilet pan pulling the chain; dowsing the poor unfortunate's head. • During the time between telegram deliveries the boys played football on vitreous enamel tables;the pitch and the goals were drawn in pencil two pennies, one _f or each side and a halfpenny representing the ball. The ball was pushed between the two pennies by a pencil held by each player who alternately had a go at trying to score a goal. The game was an earlier version of,what is now known, as Subbuteo. On sport there was a messenger football team who played in the local league. Once the team and supporters went to Birmingham to play a match against the Brum messengers and Nottingham won 1.0 Up in the roof of the PO building was a shooting gallery for rifle practice with pellets. An annual competition took place to find the best shot supervised by the inspectorate. Earlier I referred to my inability to ride a bike. The boys decided to teach me and set me on the bike at the top of Norfolk Place,a rather hilly cobbled street at the back of the Queen St PO. One boy held me upright with his hand on the seat and ran beside me. At some point he released his hand and all the onlookers shouted 'I was going solo' at which point I wobbled and turned right running into the wall ending up with my body over the railings. In later life whenever I returned to my home city my contemporaries always related the story to my friends.I did learn to ride and became an enthusiastic cyclist. l/6p was paid to clean a cycle. There was a special messenger whose sole job was to repair and maintain cycles. Boys under 16 were given meal vouchers to defray the cost of food in the canteen. Delivering a telegram to a wedding sometimes involved a messenger walking up to the top table at a reception and handing it to the bride and groom for which he received a handsome tip. Going to Nottingham racecourse on race days was also a good source of tipping. In Tattershalls ring a punter would grab hold and ask if you could take a telegram for which he paid a liberal tip on top of the charges. Knowing the layout of Nottingham and its environs was a bank of knowledge a messenger would acquire which came in very useful for a real special job. The Express service ( quite different to the Express service given in the letter mails today) was also provided by messengers to deliver packages. It was the only service by which persons could be delivered - intrigued! An Express docket would be raised, say by a business man who didn't know the area, which required him to be escorted around the town by a messenger. Having paid the appropriate tariff the messenger would then spend the day in comfort in a car directing the person to the addresses he wished to visit. The messenger would quite probably have a meal paid for by the client, a real perk. On a day in 1948 Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip visited Nottingham and I had been given a telegram to deliver, unbeknown to me, along the route they were to come into the town. I cycled up the Derby Rd and entered a stretch where there were crowds of people waving flags along the route. I got a great cheer but my journey was soon brought to an abrupt halt when a police inspector stepped out, waving his cane, to direct me into a side road. Stan Day had the habit of opening telegrams which came down from the instrument room by the vacuum tube and one day he read a death telegram before handing it to me for delivery remarking 'there would be no tip there1. On knocking on the door with this unfortunate news a man appeared and read the message, his wife meanwhile came and looked over his shoulder, bursting into tears. The man smiled and gave me Half a Crown. As to why this generosity was extended to me I will leave to your imagination. The winter of 1946/47 and the following summer were times of extreme weather. Snow fell deeply and the temperature remained at sub zero for almost 3 months during which time we were not allowed to ride bikes as it was too dangerous. We were given tokens to use the buses and we trudged great distances to deliver telegrams. One morning at 7am I found myself in the wilds on the outskirts of the city trying to walk through snow drifts up to my waist. When the snow melted then came the floods with the River Trent bursting its banks inundating the low lying land of the districts of The Meadows and West Bridgford; the water was higher than the Nottingham canal and both the football grounds were covered. One messenger did attempt to deliver a telegram and got as far as Trent Bridge where he left his bike and walked along the railway embankment to successfully deliver; returning to find his bike had disappeared swept away by the tide. The bike was found sometime later after the floods had subsided in the middle of one of the main thoroughfares. What was the urgent telegram message? -'Are you alright?' from a concerned relative. This message should have applied to the poor messenger. Next came the gloriously hot summer which lasted for 3 months, the temperatures were regularly in the 80s and 90s. I had a beautiful sun tan all summer as I sweated up and down those hills on my bike. One day I was so hot I trudged wearily up this steep hill with my head resting on the saddle. Unbeknown to me I was being watched by none other than my Supervisor Stan Day who next day related the story to all and sundry at the office. It appears that Stan has a large mirror on the wall of his living room which gave him a commanding view of the street and me. Stan Day had a remarkable memory for the pubs in the city and when a telegram came down for, eg The Marquis of Granby, without a thoroughfare he would go on to relate where all the pubs of that name were located and make a guess for which one it was intended. In the days when the bikes had fixed wheels it was quicker to come down hill with the feet off the pedals. One messenger did this down a very steep incline known as Donkey Hill and failed to stop in time hitting a bus in the process; fortunately living to tell the tale. Harking back to Stan Day again he had a sense of humour and would play tricks on new boys One such recruit received his new uniform and Stan looked after it for him while he delivered a telegram. Stan put the uniform aside and placed two bricks inside a delivery pouch handing it to the boy with instructions not to look inside. The boy returned next day with the offending bricks to reclaim his uniform accepting the joke in good part. Pat a messenger was the butt of the elder boys in a rather good humoured way. They would tie him up in a mail bag to be transported with all the collection mail down to the sorting office; only to be found on arrival in the back of the van. Les another messenger was on duty clearing the mail away from the bottom of the chute below the main office letter box when a little old lady posting a letter put her hand inside to ensure the item had dropped down. Les couldn't resist the temptation to grasp the lady's hand; she almost died of fright and Les was severely reprimanded with an appropriate punishment no doubt. Who would guess there would be a man behind a letter box All boys under 16 had to attend one day each week at The Peoples College to continue our education. I found it quite stimulating but I do remember attending a class one day feeling very tired. I sat listening to the teacher and within a short while I involuntarily yawned, the teacher looked disapprovingly hard at me and continued, again the irresistible yawn came and I was warned if I did it again I would be out of the class. Well you can guess the rest it was just impossible to stifle another yawn and there I was ejected from the lesson. In 1948 under what was known as 'Reallocation1the boy messengers were renamed 'Junior Postmen' and were issued with cheese cutter hats which were totally impractical on a bike in a high wind. The raingear consisted of a black oilskin cape, which was difficult to unwrap because it stuck together requiring brute strength to tear it apart, a Souwester and a leggings of khaki waterproofed cotton. I had a spell as an indoor messenger at The Telephone Manager's office. The atmosphere was one of dominance by the so called betters the place reeked of snobbery and obsequousness by the rank concious heirarchy and we were the lowest of the low. I hated it and longed to get outdoors again. I still yearn for the great outdoors and in my later career I always arranged for a trip out whenever the opportunity presented itself. I was seconded to the Sherwood office to deliver telegrams in that area and as one of my duties I was instructed to take the Postmaster's two Dobermans out for a walk each day. They were so big and strong little me could hardly keep them in check but I didn't lose them. Another secondment took me to Bulwell some 5 miles outside the town. My hours each day were from 9am to 6pm the Saturday attendance was 9am to 1pm. Being the only messenger there getting away on Saturday afternoon was a struggle. It is well known that weddings occur, in the main, on a Saturday and every telegram that came into the office up to 1pm had to be delivered then further deliveries would come from the Head Office in Nottingham. So I would return to the Bulwell office from one delivery to find a another batch awaiting delivery and when I came back there could be a further batch that had arrived in my absence up to 1pm.Invariably my Saturday attendance extended to 3 or 4pm; the consolation being paid for lots of overtime. A further duty was working in the Telegraph Instrument room on the top floor of the Queen St, building. We had to convey and distribute telegrams around the room from the teleprinters. The young girls of our age were employed as Girl Probationers and I believe one or two of them eventually married Boy messengers. Miss Smith, a tall angular older women was the supervisor who chivvied us about. Her boyfriend had been killed in WWl,and like many ladies of that age remained a spinster because there were not enough men to go round. In 1950 all messengers reaching the age of 18 were conscripted into the forces and quite a few didn't return from the Korean War. One friend was seriously injured in an accident and spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair; a very jovial guy who came to terms with his disability and became the life and soul of the party. I remained with the Post Office for 42 years in many various jobs and departments enjoying my time with an organisation that was quite different in its working environment from other establishments, the sense of humour and in the main the enjoyable association with so many good GPO people Recently I attended the 'National Federation of PO Pensioners' conference and ran into an old boy messenger from 60 years back and we recognisd each other immediately. Then we spent some hours reminiscing about those days. As George had remained in Nottingham throughout his working life he was able to give me all the updated news of friends we knew, sadly some of them no longer with us.
Maurice Crowe T20
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:02:36 GMT
I joined the Post Office the day after I left school aged 14 in 1938 and 47 years later I retired from British Telecom as a sales manager.
I was one of five messenger boys at Ashton and Stalybridge Head Post Office that covered the towns of Dukinfield. The three towns had a population of 1000,000 so was hard work for the five messenger boys working in shifts from 8 am to 9 pm.
We started the day by inspection from the Head Postman, polished brass buttons, cap badge, clean boots, white shirt, and black tie, and clean hands and nails. More than two minutes late we were find 2 pence (old money) we rode heavy bikes and given 2 pence to keep them clean and mend punctures. The early start was 8am and should finish at 4 pm we never did!
You could only finish if no telegrams to hand but this was rare. We were paid overtime, which brings me to an interesting money compassion. We were forced to work alternate Sunday mornings from 9am to 10-30, there was always telegrams usually greeting for Birthdays or Anniversaries. We were paid time and a half for the 1 ½ hours worked a pricely 4 pence (old money) calculated on 9shillings 6pence a week for a 48 hour six days a week.
We had little social life especially when I was 16 for then no boy under 16 could work after five o’clock during the war and only two boys were over 16 I had to work permanent lates to 9pm. The work wasn’t easy, we were timed for every delivery and with a round trip at over six miles on occasions we hadn’t time to stroll. When I retired I said in my farewell speech that I always had fun and this started from being a boy messenger, even when we had to work easily in the night to call up the TA, to report to the territorial Quay Barracks the following day, as was expected.
I’ve worked in hot summers, heavy rain and six foot snow drifts, Half hour for lunch and 20minutes for tea, with only a gas stove and kettle in the rest room that’s all we needed to eat sandwiches each day. I did join the Air Training Corps when I was 16 years old and was the only boy going straight from work on alternate Sunday’s parade in a three red stripe Post Office uniform. We did have some bad moments when delivering “we regret to inform you” letters, but the SCT’S let us know what was on the telegram so that we didn’t wait for any answers. I could go on with experiences but only bore you, especially with my months as a Postman, the next move from a messenger, but at 17 ½ years old I joined the R.A.F. but that’s another story
Hope some of my earlier career was of some interest
Jack Webb
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:02:12 GMT
I started work as a telegram messenger boy at the age of 15 in April 1939 at Barrow in Furness, which was then in Lancashire, now in Cumbria. My first weekly wage was 9 shillings sixpence, I was one of six messengers, and all on bicycles (double crossbars!) We were issued with new uniforms twice a year, 1st October with the winter uniform, and 1st April with the summer uniform. The shoes and boots were of such good quality my shoes lasted me through my service as a boy messenger, sorting clerk and Telegraphist, and into the Army in 1942. I finally ditched my shoes in the Western Desert in 1943!!
My worst experience was not only delivering telegrams with news of lost members of H.M.Forces, But also to relatives of workmen of Vickers Armstrongs lost on H.M.S.Thetis, whilst on sea trials in Liverpool Bay. The Thetis was actually built on the Mersey, but had personnel from Vickers, on board, nevertheless.
What a contrast between employment in the Post Office then and now!! Passing the boy messengers examination gave one access to various employment outlets. Postman, Sorting Clerk and Telegraphist, PO Telephone Engineer, or the Telegraphist in the Royal Navy Ensured a job for life providing you kept your “Nose Clean”!! Retirement at 60 with a free pension!
Other details I remember: Postmen were recruited on the ratio of two ex-service men to one civilian, so two thirds of postal staff were ex-service men or women and therefore readily accepted Post Office Discipline. Also, a Policemans wage was tied to a Postmans so didn’t get a rise until a postman did!
The generation of boy messengers, before my time ,performed rifle drill once a week, and were marched up to the local football field by the Head Postman (ex-sergeant Major, of course!)
Our terms of employment were excellently maintained by “sensible unions” I transferred to P.O.Telephones in 1969/70 and progressed through “corporation” stage to present day British Telecom, and retired at 60 years old with my free pension rights intact, and so far have enjoyed 24 years retirement!
Ralph Gibbs
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:01:40 GMT
Hi Everyone - at least those who have their curiosity piqued by the title of this topic.
In the early 1980's I can remember Jack Cook - then Head of Area Operations Birmingham - showing me a big thick ledger containing all the names of wags employed in Birmingham from 1901 to 1980. After Jack retired the ledger [and some photographs] went walkabout. I seem to remember Barry Coopers name being mentioned and also Denis Knights, but when ever I tried to raise the subject with anyone all I got was vague responses or blanks looks. The ledger forms a very important part of the history of Telegram Boys/Messengers/Junior Postmen in Birmingham, as it shows date of commencement and progression to being a Postman. From memory it also shows those former wags Killed in Action WW I [don't think there was any Killed in Action WW II] and also those who died in accidents or while on duty.
IF ANYONE KNOWS WHERE OR WHO HAS THE LEDGER - and photos -PLEASE LET EITHER ME OR ROGER GREEN KNOW Thank you
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:00:50 GMT
As I left school I started as a Telegram Messenger Boy in 1949 at Wigan H.P.O. not being tall I was allocated the smallest cycle in the office , We were inspected by the P.H.G every morning shoes, ties, pouches had to be extra clean and tidy, as well as hair cuts inspection
We were allocated time to clean cycles once a week, followed again by inspection, also night school 3 times a week it was compulsory, we covered 3 shifts 8am – 4pm 9am – 5pm and 11am – 8pm , other duties entailed securing mail bags on local buses too out lying districts, we were allocated free lunch time vouches at the local British Restaurant.
When it came to change pork pie style hats to large postmans hats I was the last one in Wigan to wear the Pork Pie style. I was told quite often to change to the new head wear to no avail, but had to much later, on direct orders of the assistant Head Post Master they were good days and very enjoyable instead of going onto Postal or Engineering I joined the Army at 17 years old (Royal Signals) serving at full term and then Malaya on demob I was offered a job on engineering side, by the welfare officer visiting my sick father, I in turn accepted the offer and 39 ½ years retired
I have enjoyed my time up to now 15 years retirement and look back grateful for my time with G.P.O. / Telecom and the continued life style that I now have
James Kevin Ryan (Wigan)
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 15:00:25 GMT
At the age of 14 I was returned to London .having been evacuated to Reading on 1st Sept 1939.
It was January 1940, and my old headmaster, who had stayed in London invited me to continue at school to bring me up to scratch to take the Telegram Messenger Boys' Entrance Exam. Happily I passed and was sent to Mount Pleasant Sorting Office London to collect my uniform in a mail bag, and told to report next morning to Strand Post Office (SRN).
So, in the early 1940,s my career began. Firstly I was taken under the wing of a reliable senior boy to learn all the walks. Although in the busy West End London, the hardest to learn was in the Covent Garden Area. Market Traders would received telegrams just addressed to their name 'Covent Garden' there were hundreds spread over a large area.
The Dunkirk disaster passed then came the Battle of Britain, The market was full of horse-drawn carts, lorries, and traders and barrow boys all shouting at each other.
when suddenly everything froze. The noise switched off and everyone was looking 'Above us an air battle was taking place, we could see the vapour trails and hear machine- gun fire, but at that height could not identify friend from foe.
Suddenly a plane was diving with smoke pouring from it, then someone shouted "It's a Jerry". "It's twin engined". A great cheer went up and continued until it was lost from sight. I shall always remember that! Then came the Blitz!
Our duties were 8-4.30 and 1.0 pm to 8.15. The all-night bombing often commenced about 7pm and although we were little more than children, we were expected to await the '"closure1 from CTO and then deliver all the telegrams on our way home. It was no joke! There was the blackout. bombs and shrapnel falling and guns banging away.
I had a six to seven mile bike ride to my home in Wandsworth London and although we were issued with a steel helmet, it was impossible to pedal like mad wearing one of those, so most of the lads who biked it home left their tin hats at the office
When I arrived home I would dive straight into the Anderson Shelter in the garden, where my mother would have a nearly cold dinner awaiting me. We were a happy crowd, about 18 lads, most of whom were cadets in their spare time
About that time it was impossible to buy onions in London. Then one hot sunny Saturday afternoon word went around that a market trader had left the gate unlocked on his cage and that there were boxes of leeks just standing there.
What followed was unbelievable - a file of boy messengers, al1 wearing their long black shiny capes on this scorcher of an afternoon. They returned with their ill-gotten gains hidden beneath them. There were some happy mums' that night!
As the war progressed, the West End was flooded with Yanks, and and we considered it a lark if, there was a pair of us (sazzing) and we spotted an American officer approaching , we, with our badges ,buttons , shining, and our belts and leggings eel-balled and gleaming would give him a sharp 'eyes left' and throw up a smart salute. The officer would often acknowledge it with a startled look on his face. What fun!
Just four years after becoming a boy messenger I was called up and became an 'erk in the RAF, again for four years, three in the far east. Finally nearly all erks had a nickname and I carried mine throughout my service "Gippo" - (GPO)....
I ended my days with BT in 1982, when all Telegraph staff became redundant, as a supervisor at the THQ Message Control Centre in Gresham Street London I am now 82,and have had a wonderful working life with the GPO & BT......
George Weston
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:59:58 GMT
I am an ex Belfast messenger Bagde No.T72. Joined in 1944 and left in 1946 when I joined the GPO Engineering Dept. until I retired in 1991. On Sat.29th March 2008 we will have our annual reunion, which was formed in 1975
Andrew Armstrong
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:59:32 GMT
I started at the Post Office/ G.P.O as it was then as a telegram messenger boy, when war broke out in 1939, I was an errand boy for a local grocer and had learnt to ride a delivery cycle with a small wheel and large basket at the front and a normal wheel at the back To make sense of my story I must give you a little background information. At the outbreak of war the school I attended had a school from London join us. The pupil numbers meant each school had ½ day lessons morning one week afternoons the next. The days were completed by scrap metal collections and waste paper collections using an old costermongers barrow.
The local sub H.P.O had 4 messenger boys and in 1939 the two eldest had just been upgraded to postman. This left two younger boys one of whom was a mate of mine , The two elder lads soon got called up and vanished into the forces , my mate said you can ride a bike so why don’t you try for a post as a messenger boy I’ll mention your name to the postmaster I pointed out I wasn’t old enough he said no one will check and your such a big sod lie I was 13 years old 6’ 2 ½ inches tall and weighed 14 ½ stone very fit from playing sports so I duly got an interview and the postmaster was an old man pulled out of retirement and he said you can start on a temporary basis until your 14 years old and told me to speak to my headmaster to make sure it’s ok.
I had an interview with my headmaster and pleaded that this was a wonderful chance of a life time job anyway I won him round and was told I could have the job so long as I reported to the school once a month until I was 14 years old , so I started as a boy messenger
No uniform supplied just a black belt and pouch and an armband but was given a new bike bright red but no carrier I was allowed to take it home if promised to take good care of it. My first taste of telegram delivery was a bit of a baptism by fire it was just after Dunkirk and the War Office Red Priority Grams seemed to be never ending blokes believed killed or missing I had several women faint at the door my solution was to fetch a neighbour later on when the Red Cross had located many of the men in POW Camps I got several hugs and kisses for the good news I delivery
One particular incident sticks in my mind I took telegrams to a wedding of a young couple held at an hotel 2 to 3 miles away I kept count of the number I delivered 24 towards the end of the day the best man said how many times have you been here today 24 I said well done he said and gave me 6d for each trip 12 shillings more than I got for a weeks shift.
The sad thing was about a year later I took the telegram to say his ship had gone down on an Atlantic convoy and he’d been lost I remember his wife was expecting their first child.
Within our delivery area we had a lady named Mrs Griffin she lived in a caravan stuck in a wood on the edge of the Chilterns ,She trained Alsatians to find people buried in bombed houses and got awarded the MBE for her work She frequently got telegrams and delivery was ok if she was there but if she wasn’t we left the telegram in a locked box at the side of the caravan and lifted the mail flag this was ok if the dogs were locked up but one day I had just delivered a telegram and lifted the flag turned to walk back to my bike left on the road to be faced by snarling great dog with a mouthful of bared teeth Anyway the damn thing penned me to some steps near the door of the van and there I sat until the postman whose round it was turned up looking for a long overdue messenger boy, luckily the dog knew him and allowed its self to be safely chained up The sequel to this was no more telegrams were to be left in future unless she moved her mailbox to the roadside.
Another thing that has left a lasting memory on me was there were a plastic surgeon that pioneered skin replacement and he particularly worked on young pilots who had been badly hurt. There was a beautiful riverside mansion near the river Thames with wonderful grounds the American owner offered the use of the place to the plastic surgeon to allow his patients to have a place to converless, some of these young men had no features left nose and ears burnt off
The nursing staff were all chosen for good looks and off duty they were encourage to wear pretty frocks etc and mix with their patients . To this end they held regular dances for those that could still dance , we boys used to deliver telegram there and we were told we had to deliver to the officer personally , we were told to sulute and say pilot offices or what ever rank he was I have a telegram for you Sir It was all aimed at bolstering their self esteem after their ordeal
The rear of the sub H.P.O where I worked was the local automatic telephone exchange and I had struck up a friendship with one of the engineers there, He sometimes showed me around the equipment I had been warned the messengers exam was coming up and our new postmaster had offered to coach me for it, anyway I was successful and was offered a place on the engineers P.O.E.D. I accepted and enjoyed the next 45 years as a engineer
Unfortunately I have suffered two strokes which have left me disabled and partially sighted I had a wonderful time as a messenger and still remain friends with other lads, the office got downgraded and of course the telegrams died out
Just to add something , that always gives me a smile when we had a new postmaster ,he was a ex-army man a Major who had been in Burma and he had a nervous breakdown, as I said earlier I was a big chap and one girl clerk gave me a dogs life teasing and making me go red I finally had enough and picked her up and put her upside down in to the letter sorting frame , imagine the scene a nice pair of legs waving about out of the frame her skirt had fallen around her legs like a rose petal , when in walked the new head postmaster I of course received a rollocking but he must have liked what he saw because within a year they had married, another string to my bow matchmaker
Alan Sadler
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:58:55 GMT
I was Telegram Messenger Boy from 1951 to 1954 worked from Town Head Office Birmingham Pinfold Street. Age 15 became a Motorbike Messenger at 16, I worked at Ashley Street till I was 18 years old
Robert Ward
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:58:35 GMT
I TO WAS A Telegram Messenger Boy COMMENCING WHEN I WAS FIFTEEN YEARS OF AGE IN 1945 AND CONTINUED UNTIL I WAS CALLED UP FOR NATIONAL SERVICE IN 1948. WHEN I STARTED I WAS ALLOCATED A HEAVY RED GPO BYCYCLE WHICH I WAS EXPECTED TO KEEP CLEAN AND CARRY OUT MINOR REPAIRS, MY BIKE WAS WHEELED IN TO THE SORTING OFFICE EVERY FRIDAY WHEN IT WAS INSPECTED BY AN INSPECTOR AND IF PASSED CLEAN AND FIT FOR USE THE SUM OF ONE SHILLING AND SIXPENCE (OLD MONEY) was added to my weekly WAGE. IN 1946 I HANDED IN MY OLD RED BIKE AND WAS ISSUED WITH A BRAND NEW BSA 250cc MOTOR CYCLE WITH A POST OFFICE ENGINEERING COLOUR GREEN PETROL TANK,BLACK LEGSHIELDS WITH THE LETTERS GPO ON EACH,I WAS TAUGHT TO RIDE BY THE GPO MOTOR MECHANIC SUPERVISOR AND WHEN PROFICIENT WAS GIVEN THE LONG JOURNEYS TO DELIVER MY TELEGRAMS TO...AAH HAPPY DAYS,BEST JOB I EVER HAD.TWO OTHER MOTOR CYCLES WERE DELIVERED SHORTLY AFTER AND THREE MOTOR CYCLE MESSENGERS WERE SOON BUZZING ABOUT CLACTON ON SEA AND SURROUNDING AREAS. I RECALL THE SENIOR TELEGRAM BOY WAS AWARDED SERGEANT STRIPES WHILST I WAS ONE BELOW WITH TWO STRIPES WHICH MY MOTHER SEWED ON MY UNIFORM JACKET. UNIFORMS WERE EXPECTED TO BE SMARTLY PRESSED AND CLEAN AND TIDY AND BLACK SHOES POLISHED AND PRESENTABLE.WHITE SHIRTS WERE EXPECTED TO BE WORN WITH A BLACK TIE. GPO BUTTONS AND CAP BADGE WERE MADE OF BRASS AND HAD TO BE POLISHED AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK,I RECALL THAT POSTMEN WERE ALSO EXPECTED TO BE WEAR COLLAR AND TIE,BLACK SHOES AND TO LOOK SMART,A BIT OF A CHANGE TO TODAYS MAIL DELIVERY WORKERS WHO SEEM TO BE PERMITTED TO WEAR SHORTS AND BASEBALL CAPS... ME THINKS I'M GETTING OLD! {A SOMEWHAT CRAFTY THING US BOYS GOT UP TO WAS WHEN WEDDING TELEGRAMS CAME IN ¥E WERE OFTEN GIVEN THREE OR FOUR TO DELIVER AT THE SAME TIME, HOWEVER, AS A TIP WAS MORE LIKELY TO BE RECEIVED EACH TIME A TELEGRAM WAS DELIVERED WE SOMETIMES KEPT THREE TELEGRAMS BACK IN THE DELIVERY POUCH AND HANDED JUST ONE TO WHOEVER ANSWERED THE DOOR AND AFTER RECEIVING THE TIP WOULD CYCLE ROUND THE BLOCK AND GO BACK AND DELIVER ANOTHER ONE OR TWO RECEIVINC ANOTHER CASH TIP IN THE PROCESS, DONT TELL THE INSPECTOR PLEASE!. LOOKING BACK ON THOSE DAYS RECALLING THE TRICKS AND GAMES US BOYS WOULD PLAY ON EACH OTHER MAKES ME SIT AND SMILE,I REMEMBER ONE OF THE MESSENGERS BRINGING A LARGE CAKE HIS MOTHER HAD ASKED HIM TO TAKE HOME FOR THE FAMILIES TEA, HE PLACED IT CAREFULLY IN HIS LOCKER BEFORE RECEIVING A TELEGRAM TO DELIVER, AFTER HE HAD DEPARTED ON HIS JOURNEY THE REST OF THE BOYS REMOVED THE CAKE FROM HIS LOCKER AND CAREFULLY REMOVED THE TOP PORTION OF THE CAKE AND SC00PED OUT THE INSIDE AND SHARED IT OUT AMONGST THE GIGGLING BOYS AFTER EATING THE CENTRE OF THE CAKE A NEWSPAPER WAS GENTLY CRUSHED UP AND PLACED INSIDE. THE CAKE AND THE TOP CAREFULLY PLACED BACK ON GIVING THE APPEARANCE OF A WHOLE CAKE, I WONT ELABORATE FURTHER BUT THE NEXT DAY A VERY IRATE MESSENGER BOY LET HIS OTHER COMRADES KNOW JUST WHAT HE THOUGHT OF THEM. BOY MESSENGERS HAD OTHER DUTIES TO PERFORM WHILST AWAITING THE CALL TO DELIVER TELEGRAMS .RECYCLING LEAD SEALS WAS ONE OF THEM THE OTHER BEING UNTANGLING STRING POSTMEN WERE REQUIRED TO RETURN TO THE OFFICE ABTER LETTER DELIVERIES, IN CONCLUSION, ONE RATHER STRANGE BONUS WAS THAT THE UNIFORM SEEMED TO ATTRACT THE GIRLS, AND MANY A JUNIOR ROMANCE WAS STARTED WHEN A YOUNG LADY ASKED TO TRY ON A THE CIRCULOR TELEGRAM BOYS HAT....HAPPY DAYS!. VERDICT: MESSENGER BOY OR TELEGRAM BOY.... BEST TIME OF YOUR WORKING LIFE. Bob Young
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:57:59 GMT
Thomas Fewster Newcastle on Tyne 1902
My Father Thomas Fewster was born in January 1887, In 1902 upon leaving school, he applied for a job as a telegram messenger boy at Newcastle on Tyne, where he lived, because a uniform & boots were provided which was an important consideration in those days.
At the interview he was measured, & found to be a ½ inch short of the required height- A kind inspector suggested that he went home & put 2 more pairs of socks on, & to come back which he did and he had grown that extra ½ inch
As a telegram messenger boy then he was guaranteed 9d a day /week –not sure of this plus ¼ penny –a farthing for every telegram delivered over a basic number.
Most of the telegrams were for the shipyards & quay area, which meant running up & down the step alleyways from the city centre to the riverside.
At that time I think there were about 22 telephone connections (not sure of this) in Newcastle.the Wheatstone sender was in use, & my father developed an interest in telegraphy- he became a telegraphist, but was warned by a postal inspector to “stay with the postal side sonny, the telephone will never catch on “!! My father stayed with the telephone side of the then G.P.O., & ended his career as a chief clerk for the Norwich telephone area He died age 92 in 1979, just as carphones, almost suit case size ! were coming in
I often think how amazed he would be at the mini mini size of todays mobile phones & their facility to send calls so far and wide
I hope this may be of interest to you all and wish you well in your venture with the web site
Dorothy Whanstall Daughter to Thomas Fewster
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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
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:57:02 GMT
hi michael, nice to hear from you, getting a few old telegraph house lads on the list now, the money was not much different in 1967, you were spoilt, cheers _________________ paul girling
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:56:41 GMT
I was a Tally Lad (Telegram Messenger Boy) circa 1958 1960 loads of happy memories met a couple of celebs tommy steele david nixon and one or two more .I woked in Liverpool telegraph house south. John Street now sadly gone for redevelopment .best job ever had best time of my life .no worries all at £3.7+6 aweek .hope you recieve this .ok p.s. idont know what a wag was but we where known as red devils .bye for now
Michael Roe
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Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 14:56:17 GMT
I enclose a photograph taken in 1940 at the rear of leeds G.P.O. The three messengers are left to right Henry Hall - Alan Doherty - Gordon Lane The head lamp masks reveal conditions in the early days of the war. Motorcycling around Leeds on foggy nights was a tricky business, but we always found our way back to warm our backsides at a real coal fire in the messengers room, and the witty remarks of jovial Jonny Regan Alan Dohery ( T28 )
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