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.
ooooo
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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