Monday 12 November 2018

The Elephant to Dulwich - Memoirs of John Gornall




The Elephant to Dulwich

In compiling the Hamlet Historian cricket issue (HH25) we were greatly aided by John Gornall, who supplied us with several anecdotes about his former colleagues.  John sadly passed away in 2013, but not before he wrote up his memoirs “so my grandchildren can know where they came from.” The document, titled The Elephant & Beyond is a valuable record for his family, who kindly sent me a copy. The memoirs contain many domestic and occupational anecdotes, including a catalogue of catastrophic injuries, some hilarious, that plagued him in his more mature years. It also highlights the major milestones in his long life, providing readers with a fascinating glimpse into a bygone age.

Much of the content, of course, is personal, relating to family and business matters – he worked as a rep for oil giants Shell for many years – therefore we have selected certain portions that might interest our own readership and give us a flavour of the life and character of one of Dulwich Hamlet’s past players.

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I was born in 1926, to a young couple Lily and John. Lily was a very pretty fair-haired girl of 20, employed as a floor maid of the famous Savoy Hotel. John, a year or so younger, was dark and handsome with a fantastic sense of humour. John was completing his apprenticeship as a monotype setter.

Times must have been very hard for this young couple. Lily’s family lived in a very small three-roomed flat, at the military-named Ladysmith Dwellings, Lion Street, Elephant and Castle – a very rough and tough neighbourhood. There were seven flats per floor and these apartments were truly primitive with no running water or toilet within the flat.  These facilities were available on the communal landing, with three WCs and two large sinks served by three cold water taps, with communal dustbins beneath. Heating of the flat was by three open coal fires with the coal box housed in one of the bedrooms. Lighting was by gas mantles. The luxury of a hot water bath was obtained at the Manor Place Public Baths for tuppence, which included the use of a towel and soap. Laundry facilities for the seven families were available in a communal wash house on the flat roof of the apartment block where a ‘copper’ was used for heating up water before it was transferred to wooden tubs, for the washing to be completed. As was the practice in those days, families invariably lived in homes adjacent to each other; consequently my mum and dad took a one-roomed flat at 42 Ladysmith Dwellings. The rent was 4 shillings (20p) a week.

Local pubs included The Weymouth Arms and The Railway. Both pubs sported their own darts, dominoes, shove ha’penny and crib teams. The Weymouth was a little unique in as much as they had a successful Sunday morning football team for whom my dad played. Before marrying, dad had been given a trial with Tottenham Hotspur but family pressures were brought on him to complete his apprenticeship. Who knows, he may have become another Stanley Matthews – certainly in my young eyes he was the best winger who ever played.

I became the team mascot, resplendent in my own complete strip of team colours. I well remember when The Weymouth won the cup. The charabanc did a trip of honour round the local area, with yours truly sitting on the roof of the coach, helping to hold the cup.

My dad was obviously a talented sportsman in his youth – story goes that, soon after he was married he had his last fight as an amateur boxer at the Holborn Empire, a variety theatre. Nevertheless at that time, a famous fight manager, Ted Broadribb, tried to get him to turn professional but Nannie Gornall sent Broadribb on his way.

We played street games like cricket with a lamp-post as wicket, football with a ball made of old rags packed tightly together and tied with string, hopscotch, skipping and knock down ginger – all in the streets virtually devoid of motorised vehicles, and only the occasional horse and cart going past. The atmosphere at 48 Brandon Street, Walworth, [a later childhood address] was very much like that of a village community – front doors always open, with visitors coming and going.

Sunday morning was a routine ritual visit to see our ‘other Nan’ and all of dad’s relations. At the same time we would pick up a few coppers for pocket money. One of the tasks involved was to visit ‘Blind Nannie’ (Great Gran). She would know us by our voices and feel us to see how tall we were growing. She would also be able to know if we were wearing any new clothes. Part of the ritual would be to go to the tobacconist for ‘Blind Nannie’, and pick up half an ounce of snuff before calling at the Jug and Bottle for a half of Old Ale where our great nannie always counted her change closely, recognising the coins by feel. Uncle Harry and Aunt Rose were always good for tuppence, although we rarely saw our cousin Harry [another future Hamlet player] as he was always on a similar trip to see his ‘other nan’.

[The family moved to] a large Victorian house in Daneville Road, Camberwell. At the top of Denmark Hill was Ruskin Park, and beyond was Champion Hill, home of Dulwich Hamlet Football Club, a magnificent stadium with the most successful of amateur clubs during the 1930s. They became known as the Arsenal of the amateur world and little did I know then what a great deal of my future would be linked to this club!

Arrangements were made for me to travel to Newington Junior Mixed School, which was back at The Elephant & Castle. I enjoyed life at Newington Juniors and we became the primary school of the area in respect of football playing in spectacular yellow and black striped jerseys and hooped stockings. Boxing was another activity that we took part in and Tommy McGovern was a product of the school who, soon after the war, became lightweight champion. I took part in school boxing and eventually reached the finals of the South London Schools, only to be beaten by Stan Davies who, being a neighbour of my ‘other nan’, came in for some verbal stick after leaving me with a couple of thick lips. Stan, too, became a post-war British champion but had to relinquish his title when a medical examination revealed a thin skull.

I remember that we were always smartly attired with new clothes being traditionally bought at Christmas and Easter time. A vague memory stays with me regarding a new Christmas suit – It was on the Boxing Day that I was wearing the new suit and out to play with a football which was part of my Christmas present. Needless to say, the football was kicked into a basement of a house surrounded by spiky railings. When I went to retrieve it the railings went up the leg of my new short trousers and split them assunder.  I didn’t go home to mum and dad but went to nannie and grandad who helped to see me through the crisis.

The world seemed to me to be a happy place – England were winning all their football matches; we had passed through the problem of body line bowling with the Australians, and Arsenal were the team of the decade. Although most of my contemporaries were Millwall supporters and dad had taken me to The Den, I was an Arsenal man at heart. Little did I realise then that I would, one day, play at Highbury.

I had taken the ‘11 Plus’ Exam and Southwark Central was my school from September 1937. An enormous influence on my future life was determined at that time. My form master was NFB Dorey. It only became apparent in later life just how advanced was Dorey’s thinking and activity – he was totally dedicated. At the time we were only two years away from total world war, however in that first two years at school an important part of my education and attitude to life was formed almost entirely due to Fred Dorey.

School football and cricket were dominating my every activity. From house matches to school matches and South London games, it was all part of growing up with the great sporting Dorey behind us all the way. A great disciplinarian, he brought pressures to bear in every direction, but always true sportsmanship and honesty was the background to his teaching. At about this time I was picked regularly to play for South London Juniors and our home matches were at Dulwich Hamlet or Nunhead grounds. Jimmy Mears was our school centre-half and he was invariably picked to play in these matches. In fact on one occasion South London had seven Southwark Central boys in the side. My dad was a regular supporter of both representative and school matches. He worked in Red Lion Court, just off Fleet Street, for the Monotype Press and was often engaged on the night shift. On Saturday morning I would approach him in his bed and ask for the fare to football. He would always say, “Take it from my trousers.” And off I would go to the match. Kick-off would usually be at 11.00am and somehow or other dad would be on the touchline. I can remember that sometimes after the game he would take me to watch Millwall and this would mean a treat like having lunch at a chop house for chop, chips, peas and a sweet for 1/3 (7p).

Mr Chamberlain [the Prime Minister] had been to Munich and the great cry was “Peace in our time.” Sport was still uppermost in the minds of my friends and me. England had suffered at the hands of Don Bradman but Len Hutton had struck a blow for us with his 364 at The Oval. I had been chosen for the West Seniors against the East, to be played at The Oval – my first match on the county ground. All the boys playing were at least two years older than me. Jack Lewis scored 99 for us and Tom Coleman took 5 wickets. I kept wicket and featured in a South London Press cartoon with my head appearing between two giant pads. A memorable day with one significant happening that has been treasured by me throughout my life. Before the game started all the other boys were changing into smart cricket gear taken from large sports bags and I was possibly feeling a little inadequate when Dad arrived in the dressing room with a small parcel and said, “You have forgotten your cricket sweater.” I flustered but accepted it – I had never had a cricket sweater and he had bought it for me that morning, spending his week’s pocket money in the process! A great man!

[In the early months of the war Fred Dorey persuaded the Gornall family to allow John to be evacuated to the Devon.] It transpired that Mr Dorey had found me the last billet available in Starcross. I was kitted out with new school raincoat, shoes, etc., and such items as pyjamas that I had not had prior to this time. At the age of thirteen I was off – Waterloo to Exeter armed with enough sandwiches and apples to last a lifetime. Mum was tearful as I was travelling alone on the longest journey of my life. Fred Dorey met me at Exeter and immediately took me to buy a new pair of football boots, which was his gift for the boy who scored the first 50 in the previous schools cricket season.

Fred Dorey made arrangements with a local farmer to set up a field for football and games – he got a local contact to provide timber and build goal posts. Also in the outskirts of the village was a boy’s reformatory school – they had a pitch and we played matches against them.

Over the Christmas/New Year period of 1940/41 I came home to London for a break and experienced The Blitz. It was horrendous. Houses in Hampton Street were demolished.  We had already been bombed out of Wansey Street and moved to No 9 Hampton Street. A bomb fell across the road and flattened three houses. Our front door and windows were blown in and grandfather stood at the front shaking his fist at the sky shouting, “You %$£&*s! Don’t you know there are women and children down here?”

In June 1942 I was introduced to Dulwich Hamlet Cricket Club, and eventually to the football club. Through the influence of the Junior Team manager, Tom Warley, I got a job with Gordon & Gotch as a junior clerk in the advertising department for £1 a week. One got used to the wartime activities and sport was the main activity that kept me going. It was training with the Hamlet for football on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, with matches for the Hamlet on Saturday and an engineering company called Sullivan’s on Sunday. Sullivan’s had a few Hamlet youngsters playing for them and a couple of Millwall players who were exempt from National Service because of their engineering jobs. At 17 years of age I made my debut with Dulwich Hamlet FC.

Summer was net practice on Tuesday and Thursday, then playing for Surrey Colts on Saturday and Dulwich Hamlet Cricket Club on Sunday. All the Surrey Colts matches were played at top Surrey club grounds. All these clubs used the Colts’ matches to support the War Savings campaign and often we would have over a thousand spectators at these games. In September the Colts would play a Lords XI at the home of cricket. The Lords XI would invariably turn out a strong selection sprinkled with test match players like Gubby Allen, Jim Sims, Ian Peebles and test match players of the future like JB Carr of Derbyshire and Trevor Bailey of Essex.

In 1944 I volunteered for the Royal Navy and joined up five days after my eighteenth birthday. Two or three weeks after arriving, I was moved to HMS Ganges at Shotley in Suffolk for initial training. I immediately got into the Ganges cricket team. A lot of the players in the team were Physical Training Instructors and knew the players of Dulwich Hamlet FC. They were people like Reg Saphin, Chester Brooks, Bill Wood and Tommy Parker. Reg turned pro with QPR when demobbed, as did Chester for Arsenal and Bill for Millwall. Tom Parker captained Ipswich Town from the 3rd Division to the 1st Division and contacted me when I was demobbed, to offer me terms at Ipswich. The wages back then were only paid for the winter and I was earning more money than was being offered, so I remained an amateur and played my entire career for Dulwich Hamlet.

[Johnny’s wedding to Joy was originally booked for August 1951, but during the Hamlet’s Easter Tour in Cornwall in March he developed a serious case of pleurisy. This lasted for months and caused the postponement of the wedding until December.] At that time I was working for engineering company Matthew Hall and it had been a disappointment to me that, as a result of being hospitalised, I had been taken off a position which was a three year contract in Jamaica. Joy, who was working for Woolworths at the same time, had also been promised a job in a newly opened Woolworths in Kingston, Jamaica.

All the players who had played that day turned up at the wedding in the evening. Syd, the best man did a magnificent job collecting a pound from each of the players – enough for each pound to buy a crate of 24 light or brown ales. There were so many crates that the party continued back at our house until the early hours of the morning. So began our married life. We had a five year plan. As we had no capital we planned to save enough to buy our own house and then to start a family. Joy was enjoying her new social life with me, having met all my Hamlet friends.

In 1954 I was playing football for The Hamlet at Woking and received a serious knee injury – I had the cartilage removed and was back playing the following season. Eric Mulley, an England selector, told me I was being scouted. However, playing against Wycombe Wanderers I had another knee injury which finished my football career altogether.

One memorable sporting week I remember was before I retired from football – It started on an August bank holiday. On the Saturday, playing cricket for DHCC against Brit House, I scored a century, on the Sunday I scored a century against Norwood CC, and Monday saw me score a century against Linden Park CC. The following Saturday I played for DHFC first team and scored a goal and on the Sunday I scored a century against Barclays Bank CC.

One September morning in 2011 [John aged 85] set off for Devon to the Ashbury golfing hotel at Oakhampton. After two holes I overturned the buggy and suffered a serious head wound and bruising. An ambulance was called and I was taken to Exeter Hospital. We got to the hospital at about 5pm but it was standing room only in the Accident & Emergency Department. Eventually the doctor started to sew me up at about 7 o’clock. Martin [his son in law who was also injured] watched the whole procedure and I was glad that he was able to converse with the doctor as I couldn’t hear because my ear was full of blood.

It transpired that I had severed an artery in my head which had to be sealed before he could sew up the wound. Martin told me that it was very difficult because the blood was spurting out all the time. All I was able to see was blood all over the towels looking like the inside of an abattoir. Eventually the artery was sealed with eight stitches; it then took another nine stitches to seal the wound. I was still compos mentis and timed the job to be just over one hour. The doctor’s name was Rennie and I thanked him for his patience and concern. The staff nurse put a pressure bandage on my head. I looked like the invisible man.

A taxi was ordered and we gave a lift to a lady who was staying at the Manor House Hotel next to our complex. She was in her sixties and had fallen off a horse, which, she said was the first time in her years of riding. I told her she should be more careful at her age!

We are extremely grateful to Lisa Gornall and her family for allowing us to reproduce this selection from her father’s memoirs.

John Gornall with Jack McInroy 2009

This article originally appeared in the HH26 Winter 2014

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