Foreword I have just finished reading a book by the Rev. Jimmie ...

Foreword
I have just finished reading a book by the Rev. Jimmie Dow, whose second title was "No better
than I should be”.
I knew him as a Minister in Greenock and I used to read his articles in the local paper, where he
used the pen name Albert Harbour. He was a down to earth chap and appealed to those hard working, warm
hearted residents of that city.
As I read the book I thought “I could write something similar, not as a member of a church, but as
a member of the Boys Brigade over many years service in that organisation.”
I think I left the BB at the right time for me because the world was changing and so was the BB.
There was the hairstyle to start, i.e. long and unkempt, it hung over the collar, new dress styles, and it was
cool not to shine shoes. They later scrapped the uniform to which I was used. Discipline is now lax. I could
not have accepted much of what is going on today. Even the Bible Class is almost done away with. Few
Companies now hold it.
So this book is about the things we did in my day. The fun, the discipline, the attempt to bring a
boy to “true Christian manliness”, plus a few anecdotes of things which happened to me along the way.
I JOINED THE BOYS BRIGADE
AND WHAT A NOISE THEY MADE
WAS LIKE A DONKEY ENGINE
ON THE ESPLANADE
Above, a song sung by boys to the well known bugle tune.
INTRODUCTION
I JOINED THE BOYS BRIGADE
Early Days
I was born in 1916 at 21 Pitfour Street, Dundee, in the low door on the west side. A year or two
later we evidently moved to the top floor of the three storey tenement because mother was afraid someone
would come in the window facing the street. So there must have been break-ins even in those days, but, may
I suggest, due to poverty and not drug-taking.
I naturally don't remember much of my early days. My father apparently came back from
America, an engineer who had served his time in U.L.R.O., i.e. Urquhart, Lindsay & Robertson Orchar
(Dundee) - otherwise known as „The Blackie‟, and gone to the USA to make his fortune and send for my
mother. However, the war started in 1914 and, together with five pals, my father immediately decided to
come back and fight for the old country. He never got past Glasgow, because engineers were so badly
needed for making large guns and he ended up in Beardamores turning out Howitzers. Maybe that was
ordained, because Dundee men were slaughtered in their thousands at the Battle of Loos, otherwise I would
not be here writing my tale.
21 and 23 Pitfour Street were unique in that they were two three-storey tenements stuck together
with a „parkie‟ - a bare, almost grassless, piece of field on either side. To the south facing there was the
„Yankie land‟ which was American style while a covered drying green was on the top of the three-storey
building. There was a passage between, wide enough for the sanitary cart to get through and our midden
doors were the right height for shovelling out the rubbish on the cart. The middens were right next to the
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wash houses of 21 and 23. My mother‟s day was a Monday, and she got me up early to carry down the
basket of clothes to the wash house and help light the fire under the huge boiler. Soon the water was boiling
and the clothes pushed around with the boiler stick which was later needed to get the clothes out for
wringing, which would have otherwise been to hot to handle. There was room in the „washie‟ for a mangle
and a wringer and, here again, I would help.
You might ask where my dad was; he was, by this time, a foreign erector and abroad most of my
schooldays.
Between the close end and the wash house we had a row of cellars, eight in all, one for each house
and a fenced walkway down with the drying green walled in. The system worked well and we never had
neighbours from hell - as a lot of people have these days. In fact, they helped each other in many ways.
One incident I remember. The Sisters of Mercy, clothed in long black outfits and carrying large
black bags, used to call round their Catholic members regularly, A Mrs Tyrell whose husband was a
Catholic school headmaster lived in the low door left and used to dash into the „washie‟ with “hide me! The
Sisters are in the street”. And she averred that if she had no money to give them, and money was tight in the
1920's, they would lift the bread off the table, put it in the bag they carried, and depart.
All the houses were only two rooms - a living room (really a kitchen) with a coal bunker at the
window and a bed recess on the back wall. There was a small scullery and an inside toilet (no bathroom) and
the „parlour' which later became my brother, David's and my bedroom.
When we were small our bed was a „hurley' which was a home made sparred bed on casters. Mum
and Dad's bed was on high wooden blocks about 6-8" high. This allowed our hurley bed to be pulled out at
night and tucked away in the day time.
I was sorry for the coalman who had to carry a mett of coal (84 lbs) up the three stairs and turn,
face away from the window, and dump the bag on the edge of the bunker and tip it in, with as little dust as
possible.
Mind you, the bunker was a hardy thing - you could keep a large plant on the lid, but ours was
used as a punishment centre. If we misbehaved, and it was not unknown, we usually (the two of us) were not
allowed to sit at the tea table, but had to eat at the bunker: quite an indignity.
I said earlier the 1920's were hard up times. I remember the miners coming round playing and
dancing on boards in the street for coppers which were thrown wrapped in newspaper down to an upturned
bonnet. Jimmy Shand was one who played, later became Sir Jimmy, for Fife miners in distress.
Beggars used to sing in the back greens and even pieces wrapped in newspaper were thrown, for
money was scarce in our houses too. One couple, a man and wife team, were regulars. Their singing was
pretty awful and as one of them picked up the coins, they would still be singing the same tune but would
sing “What did they gi'e ye?” - reply, “only a halfpenny”. “The greedy things, they might have gi'en mair".
Of course, one of Dundee's worthies, Blind Mattie, and her accordion, also came round the streets.
Yes, things were hard, but as youngsters growing up we were not aware of it.
Looking back, and I'm now 89, I realise how much the youngsters have, that we didn't have.
Imagine NO TV, how could you have done without it. NO wireless - what no wireless - well, as a schoolboy
I watched my father build his first crystal set, the first in our area I believe. He sat with earphones on and
tried various 'crystals' - I even got fools gold out of our coal - but not successful. But, eventually a thing the
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size of a pea with shiny particles in it and when the cat's whisker touched it, it did the trick. Dad got 240
calling and Hendry Hall and his orchestra.
We all had to sit speechless, although by turning one earphone outwards, two could listen in to
this modern wonder. Then wireless sets got bigger and bigger. They worked by a large battery or
accumulators. My wife's father swore by his and he had twenty accumulators joined by alligator clips which
needed 50% of them charged weekly. And then over the years the sets got smaller and smaller till you could
hold one in the palm of your hand.
We had no electric lights, but we had gas lit by means of a vesta mantle which, after it was lit, was
so brittle a sneeze would break it into pieces. Some didn't even have a mantle, only fish tail burners. Imagine
doing your homework in this poor light. I was lucky, father had a plumber friend who installed the latest - a
centre of the ceiling bowl and a bivalve arrangement. At the door as you entered from the lobby there was a
round brass ring. If you pressed the central button this pushed the pilot light over to ignite the mantle. It was
ingenious and I never saw another like it.
TELEPHONES - Nobody on our social status had one. Telephones were only in use for business
or the rich. I can't think of a single friend or relative who had one. Now you can't avoid them. Hand held
they are used in every street, tramcar, bus or train - to most people's annoyance. Is this for the better? I
wonder.
Despite not having all these gadgets we had a happy childhood.
I was enrolled at Blackness Public School Primary, despite Mitchell Street being nearer, for you
could chose your school in these days, and the Blackness had a great reputation for turning out the best
pupils.
They must have been good for I won a Morgan Trust Bursary that allowed me to go to the Harris
Academy and have my fees paid, plus an allowance for books. I think it was a pound for the first year, thirty
shillings for the second and two pounds for the third. I got most of mine second-hand at Russell's Bookshop
in the Perth Road, which catered for this trade.
Later you could swap your first year ones for second year ones and so on, thus only having to buy
very few new ones.
There were no buses or cars to school then - you walked, in my case I suppose nearly three miles.
But it was great. On my 14th birthday I got a push bike - not a new one, but it was to me.
I am getting ahead of myself .
ENROLMENT
By the age of eleven I was desperate to join the Boys Brigade, but the magic age limits were 12 to
17, besides lots of the older boys in the street were members and one said to me “just tell them you're 12 on
your birthday" and I gave it a lot of thought and that's what I did.
Now my father was in the 18th St. Peter's Company as a lad, and by some trick of fate a band of at
least a dozen in Pitfour Street, Benvie Road and Cleghorn Street all went over to St. Peter Street to the 18th
despite the 42nd Balgay nearby and passing the 11th Logie Company to get there. So it was to the 18th for
me.
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The first week of September was the enrolling date and so with two of my pals we stated we were
„coming up to 12‟ and to our delight we were accepted. We were now a Company of just over 80 strong.
We were fitted out with a 'pie', the wee round cap with chin straps, a white haversack with brass
button, and the leather belt with the anchor insignia in the middle made of brass, which had to be well
polished for inspection.
We were allocated a squad. I was given number 1 squad under the skipper's son, Sgt. David
Donald, a cheery faced chap who later became an actuary with a large insurance firm. He gave us a pep talk
on how attendance was vital on Sundays as well as Friday nights. For Bible Class was a must in these days,
and each squad vied with each other to be the best squad, and the end of the season won the shield and a
prize for each boy.
The Hall in St. Peter Church lay at the rear of the church. The Hall was unusual in that it had a red
plush covered pulpit on the south wall. It had been the one used by the Rev. Murray McCheyne, famous
Dundee preacher in his day. A sermon glass was found (the same as an egg timer, but larger) which ran for 4
hours. I'd hate to have to sit that long no matter how brilliant the speaker.
On the north wall was a pretty big cupboard which held all sorts of BB paraphernalia. A big drum,
some of the larger band instruments and wooden rifles. They were not in use in my time. World War I put
paid to training to „slope arms' etc. Mothers did not want their sons trained for another war. Little did they
know that a second world war was just around the corner, and the knowledge of handling a rifle would have
been extremely useful in the coming conflict.
However, my first parade was the following Friday. I really had no idea what would happen. I was
both excited and apprehensive.
We „fell in‟ by squads, sergeant or corporal leaders of the squad posted first. The eight leaders
two or three paces apart were brought to attention, and company „fall in‟ and so we rapidly found our
squads. I was in no. 1 but being smallest was last in line (over the years I would move up „til I had a squad
of my own). The roll call was taken when your name was called, all you replied was “Sir”.
Then we had the squad inspection by the captain David Donald, and his chief lieutenant Bill
Laskie. The latter's father had started the company many year before. We didn't wear the white haversack.
That was for special parades only. But cleanliness of brass belts and number 18 on the caps was looked at
and notes taken (these notes collected or collated and went towards choosing the best squad). After this
inspection we were given the “fall out”. Now we gathered on the east wall side, awaiting instructions.
Then “orderly Sgt. fall-in”. The senior sergeant took his place facing the drill officer - a pause,
then the order “tallest on the right shortest on the left in single rank – „SIZE‟” and this meant the tallest
headed for the Sgt. while I, being smallest, was the last in the line which stretched three quarters the way
round the hall.
Then company, "NUMBER" we shouted as it came to 1,2,3,4 1 was 82 that night. Now - odd
numbers one step forward, even numbers one step back. March. I stepped back. Ranks right and left turn.
The front rank turned right and the back rank turned left.
Number one stand fast. Company form fours. So No.2 went behind No.1, No.3 behind 2, No.4
behind 3 and so on.
It was after the second war before we fell in by threes, but that was in the future. So we learnt drill
by fours, march properly and do complicated movements but that took me a long time. The evening always
closed with “God be with you 'til we meet again”.
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I had been a member of Balgay Church Sunday School and had a good idea what to expect at the
BB Bible Class, but it was quite different. The hall was now lined up with backed forms across east and
west in front of the pulpit while the dividers, which I hadn't noticed on Friday, pulled across the hall roughly
halfway. A Sgt. or Corporal was put on the door and latecomers not allowed in immediately. They got a late
mark for not being in before 10 a.m. There was a prayer and hymns and the skipper D. Donald, took the
address. It was more grown up and adult than I was used to, but so interesting. He was Chief Editor of the
boy‟s papers The Beano and The Dandy so he knew what boys liked and his talks were amusing and
informative. It was a pleasure to hear him it helped to make up for getting up early on a Sunday morning to
walk quite a long way for a wee lad - down Roseberry, along Baxter Street, across to Scott Street, up by the
Hennie Parkie' (Glenagnes Road), down Peddie Street and then St. Peter Street. The skipper lived on Albany
Terrace and had a big car and the stragglers often got picked up and rode to bible class in the skipper's car.
But that was living dangerously for if he didn't come that route, you were definitely late so I was always on
time.
I mentioned the Captain or skipper as he was known - ran the boys paper and lots of boys had
affectionate nicknames and I'm sure some appeared in the comics. For example, Big Eggo: we had three
Eggo's, Syd Eggo - does Big Eggo not ring a bell you comic lovers? The Moonie brothers, John, Jim (twins)
George and Willie who also had a twin sister, Jim was „Peem‟ and wee peem was another character.
Spoofer Taylor was a japer whose name also appeared but my favourite is or was "Lord Snooty"
who wore a tile hat in the comic and was also well dressed, we reckoned was Eddie Merchant who was like
a Tailor's dummy and worked in Montague Burtons the Tailor, he came to the BB wearing his bowler hat
into the hall, lifted off the hat and underneath was his pie. I am still sure a lot of the comic characters came
from boys of the 18th.
When boys became working age a great many of them found employment in the Dundee Courier
& Advertiser. Three of the Moonie brothers worked there and George became an editor of some of the
magazines. I tried when my time came but was unsuccessful.
I LEARN THE BAGPIPES
One had to put your name for any class that appealed to you. I fancied learning the chanter, that's
the wind instrument you have to master before going on to learn the pipes. My father had a man in the
Blackie, Jimmy Miller, who was a piper in the City of Dundee Pipe Band and who played for his sister Lena
Miller the dancer who ran a really well known dance class in the town. He was asked to give me lessons.
Soon on a Tuesday evening I used to go to his house in St. Peter Street for lessons but of course I went to
the class run by the Dundee Battalion at Dudhope Castle on a Thursday evening.
Let me describe this very old castle set in Dudhope Park. I passed by it going to my grannie's and
used to play on the old W.W.I tank in the grounds outside it. Now I was to be inside this imposing edifice.
The place we practised in was two up in a very long room with a fireplace at each end. In a very
severe winter we had a fire at each end. On the north-west corner was a turret room used by the drummers -
they used a chair bottom to learn their mammy-daddies (drum strokes).
There were boys from all the companies that did not have their own band, for they would have an
officer, usually a piper from one of the big bands, the City of Dundee, The McKenzie or City Police, even
the MacLean Ladies had a male instructor.
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Our instructors were Kenneth MacGregor a tall imposing official with G. C. Taylor the bag
manufacturer in Alexander Street, Peter Marr from the 6th Lochee and a Mr. Gowans. The first half of the
evening was chanter practise and then the other half was for pipes
After you learn the scales you go on to your first tune, usually Highland Laddie then Ho' Ro My
Nut Brown Maiden.
By now my father was looking around for a set of bagpipes. At last he bought a set for £10. They
were half silver mounted with a Black Watch tartan bag and tartan ribbons. The chanter had a unique feature
in that the mouthpiece trap was usually made from the tongue leather of a shoe. Mine had a brass metal
device. You had to learn the knack of pushing the slide up to stop the air exiting, otherwise the air came
back up the mouthpiece. It was done by a sharp push of the elbows into the bag immediately after the blow
in.
For beginners it is not easy, but once you master the knack, but this took quite a time, you could
keep the bag filled with small puffs from your cheeks and concentrate on playing the chanter part.
Learning to tune the three drones also took time and your ear did the rest. Each drone in turn must
be adjusted up or down, first the wee one then the middle and finally the big drone. Then all three must be in
unison - you should try it sometime.
Anyway I got my pipers badge after two years and played with the Battalion Band at Baxter Park
Parades and was once in the band along with the guard of honour at Belmont for the visit of the Queen
Mother.
I kept on playing for years. When I reached the age of leaving the Boys Brigade, I was invited to
become a Warrant Officer and one of my main assets for the job was to start a pipe band in the 18th BB.
Company.
Soon I had eight pipers, two side drummers and a big drummer. One of the lads who put his name
down at the start of a session was „wee Syd. Eggo‟ who in the words of most officers, was a pain in the
neck. Even the skipper, now Captain Laskie said “Harry you are wasting your time he never sticks at
anything” and I still took him into the class. He was a fantastic pupil. He did his practises at home - he loved
the instrument and was still playing when he became the age to leave the BB. He kept the bagpipes and I
heard he was still playing in the Army. Well done Syd - I'm glad I had faith in you.
FIRST AID
I suppose I put my name down for this because I liked the badge. It was a metal shield with a red
cross on it. That was after two years training then a blue felt backing for three years and a red felt back for
the 4th year.
In first year, the triangular bandage was in great use, for various slings either full out or folded
into narrow or broad-fold. We learnt to use it for scalp wounds, broken shoulder blade or blades when we
used two and tied at the back, broken ribs, which is not used today. Then the legs and last a broken femur
using splints, the inner one up to the crutch and the outside one up to near the armpits using eight bandages.
It was fun but every boy should learn this craft.
Over the four years we learnt about the arteries and the veins, about poisons and their treatment. I
never felt any of this was a waste of time, because in life I have on many occasions when knowing first aid
saved a life. At 16 years old I was working in Cairds‟ Mill when I came across a mechanic, George Benton
who had fallen down stairs, knocked himself out and was lying on his back, blood bubbling out of his
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mouth. The girls round him just stood not knowing what to do. I quickly turned him on his side, put my
fingers in his mouth, found he had broken his dentures and got them out (they had cut his mouth badly) He
would have died of choking had I not been at these classes.
I have rendered first aid at three car crashes and patched the occupant up before the police and
ambulances arrived.
The next one was a car crash just before the Muirdrum on the bend. A woman crashed and her
baby was thrown through the windscreen into the burn on the right side. I drove along seconds later, saw the
smash and somehow I was drawn to the burn and saw the babe face down in the water. I got it out just in
time I reckon or it would have drowned.
Also at the Bridge on a very bad double bend on the east side of Abernethy I came on a car which
had taken the first bend too fast and crashed into the parapet of the Bridge. All four were unconscious and
one had a piece the size of a tennis ball out of his arm. The rule is never mind broken bones, stop the blood
at all costs, bones can be mended later, so stop the bleeding first. I used up all my first aid bandages and
plasters. I also got word to the police because huge stones were knocked on to the rail line so I may have
prevented a rail crash too.
Years later I came on a crash at the Dundee-Kirkcaldy-Cupar-Abernethy crossroad . A runaway
from the R.A.F. Leuchars, crashed into a farmer's wife's car. I found the lad and made him comfortable at
the roadside but it took a few minutes to find the lady. She had been shot out of the car and exactly fitted a
ditch at the other side of the road. I patched them up and saw them off to hospital.
Yes, first aid is a must in my opinion, and you never know when it can come in handy.
THE KING’S BADGE
In my day this was the coveted badge to get in the Boys Brigade. There were very few awarded.
To gain one you had to have gained six or more badges relating to class work. For mine I had my pipers, my
4th year first aid, my Fireman, Bible Class and P.T., my Campers and the Arts and Crafts.
To get the Fireman‟s you had to attend classes at Dundee Central Fire Station in Bell Street.
I may have been drawn to this as my Grandfather Ross was a fireman in the days of horse-drawn
fire engines with the boiler and steam coming out like an oversized kettle. All firemen had to be a tradesman
and grandfather was a plumber. He attended the biggest fire in Dundee's history. Under Captain Weir they
raced to Watson's Bond in the Seagate, a Bonded Whisky warehouse holding thousands of gallons of
whisky. It burnt for many days and whisky still alight went down the drain and out to sea still alight.
Grandfather was missing for three days at one point - he got a lot of teasing over this.
Of course, we did not have to put out fires, but we learnt about every type of fire extinguisher in
use at that time, examined their contents and how they worked. The different ones to use when electricity
was involved. As a treat we were allowed to slide down the „pole‟ the same way firemen do when they get a
callout. This was interesting time as my mother, her two sisters and three brothers being brought up inside
the fire station, as families lived in in those days and as kids they all played sliding up and down this very
pole.
We were given demonstrations on how to extinguish a chip pan fire by smothering it, how to use
stirrup pumps (later much in evidence during W.W.II) simple hosepipes and even the use of sand buckets.
We learnt to tie knots and the use of ropes, also the fireman‟s lift and how to do it without
straining yourself
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We learnt various survival techniques if caught in a burning building, how not to open doors to
cause wind draughts that would exacerbate the fire.
All useful stuff and at the end of the course the exam and if you passed, the award of a fireman's
badge showing a fireman's helmet and crossed axes.
THE CAMPER'S BADGE
This was a Class that was well supported but this time you were helped by three others, with you
in command. The bell tent still in its bag was set in an area where it had to be taken out of its bag, unrolled
and erected with its central pole, door fly flaps rolled up neatly in, I believe, three minutes and then taken
down and neatly folded rolled and re-bagged. You were given instruction and hints for a few weeks before
camp so that you would be a big help when your camping holiday came along. The three helpers could not
be holders of the badge and you had to give the orders to achieve success. It was a badge worth having.
ARTS & CRAFTS BADGE
This badge could be a whole manner of undertakings, from painting in watercolours or oil,
marquetry, moulded figures from plaster of paris and painting them
My sixth badge was a gym badge. The badge represented crossed dumbbells, but in class work, it
could include P.T., horse work and parallel bars. Two years in this class and you were tested and if efficient
passed.
I also obtained the bible class badge and in addition I sat each year the Battalion bible exam
known as the G. C. Taylor Trophy. I was fourth at my first attempt then twice in third place and in my final
year second - I was beaten by Alfred Pitkeathly. a boy in the 6th Lochee.
I am very proud that Sgt. George Duffus, my number one son, won it when he was in the 34th
Camperdown Company years later.
display.
The King's Badge was not one seen often on parades and I was proud to be presented at our
I believe I was the first in the 18th ever to obtain one.
CAMPS
If you have never camped before, then your first camp is a real adventure. The 18th could have
joined in with the Battalion at Belmont, but prided itself in running its own show. We were going to
Inverquharity in Perthshire. The big boys and some of the officers went off the evening before as an advance
party. On the lorry the bell tents and marquee with all the poles, trestle tables forms and dixies and a stove.
This was to have the camp site up and erected by the time the other officers and boys came the next day. The
weather was kind, the sun shining, when all the lads complete with kit bags and all the listed items inside,
assembled at the yard outside the hall in St. Peter Street. Then we piled into the bus, over forty of us, and off
on my first time away from home and family.
How would I behave, would I be homesick and maybe even cry and make a fool of myself, how
would the food taste? My mother used to accuse me of being 'picky'- would I be able to sleep on the ground?
So it was with trepidation that I disembarked with the others - Great! All the bell tents were up in line and
facing them the marquee complete with table and forms. Better still the male cook had dinner ready for us
and it was great. My fears disappeared.
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Cpt. Donald and Bill Laskie as they say in the Navy, run a tight ship - keep everyone busy must
have been their motto. We were awakened by a mug of tea and a ginger snap handed in by the duty officer
and his assistant. Then up for breakfast. This was usually porridge made with real cream milk from the near
farm, or corn flakes then a roll with two rashers of bacon and tea. Some mornings it was fried eggs or
scrambled. A hotel could not have done better - maybe it was the fresh clean air.
After breakfast it was time for tent inspection. This as done every morning. The NCO in charge of
the tent vied with the other tents to win the best tent of the day, which won for each member of that tent a
small (split) bottle of lemonade at lunchtime: marks were collated and later the best overall tent at the end of
the week won the “Best Tent” at prize giving.
Tent inspection - what did it incur? Well, we had to pull everything out of the tent, and sitting or
kneeling we rolled up the flies. If you did it well they should look like a roll of hosepipe. If not, they would
appear as a twisted mess. Then each lad had to lay out his kit. First the ground waterproof sheet, then the
palliasse with straw in it rolled into a three position. Then your blankets neatly folded with rounded edges
with the N.C.O's No.1 kit as a line - you squared up the rest. Usually a string pegged in front of the last tent
ran to No.1 tent gave the line of the whole parade, which looked like a military manoeuvre. The last thing
was to make sure no sweet papers, or fag ends, were in or around between the bays as that would be marks
off and a telling off to the smokers if they were found out. It was not unknown for a bigger lad to flick a butt
over to someone else's tent.
Then the inspection itself: we all stood behind our kits and the skipper and his number one taking
notes proceeded to inspect each tent with the tent commander following. Bad points were pointed out, so
that they would be better the next day.
We got the “fall out" and a note would go on the notice board to say who had won and a list of
events for the day.
We had a tuck shop tent where sweets, lemonade and a selection of crisps could be purchased
along with various chocolate goodies.
We also had a camp bank, where our money was deposited, where the banker eked it out, so that
you would not be broke before the end of the week.
It was games till lunch time. I loved the ring net ball, which was marked off a bit like a tennis
court but smaller. There was five-a-side football, swimming parade under a good swimmer (just in case
anyone got into trouble).
Lunch time we sat on the forms at trestle tables in the marquee - open sides if the sun was hot.
Food all week was varied and good and no one had any complaints.
We had games in the afternoon unless we had an organised trip, which were popular. For example
we always climbed a hill, (a corbie). To us wee fellows they were mountains. Every year a different one. I
still remember some of their names; Craig Melon, Mount Craig and Cairn-a-Mount. We had NOT to race
ahead of any other because fog could come down in minutes and you could get lost - so when the whistle
blew we had to sit down and wait till it lifted. Captain Donald even in his 80's was a hill walker and climber
and knew his stuff.
Another tradition in the 18th was a huge bonfire on the Friday night and a sing song while sitting
round it. So we were all out on a wood gathering expedition, determined to make the biggest fire yet of any
previous camp.
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Sitting in the dark, stars in the heavens, sparks shooting into the air - it was magic. ---The singing
wasn't bad either. Songs like „wrap me up in my waterproof groundsheet, as soon as my tanner (6d) is spent
- is spent‟ - and „six full sized Corporals will carry me and bury me near the mess tent.‟ Much later chemical
closets were added to our list. „The Chestnut Tree‟, with actions, was also popular.
SUNDAY AT CAMP
Sunday after tent inspection was always Church Parade day. The minister of the local church was
always informed of our intention to visit at his church during our time in his area. So in full uniform we
marched the mile or two arriving always a few minutes before the time of the service.
I loved camp and went every year from boy to officer.
Once we were camped at Hospital field near Arbroath and marched to Arbirlot Church, it was
memorable in that the organ was a manual one, the wind to play it being pumped by the up and down action
of a lever by a wee lad. He was obviously not „the full shilling‟ as they used to say and boys being boys
someone (one of our small lads) pulled a face at him. His reaction was to stop pumping and shake his fist at
the offender- the organ stopped in the middle of a tune every time he did this. It happened once or twice till
our officer spotted the offender.
My cousin Will Tasker was a banker in Alyth and knew all the farmers in the area and got me a
site at Tulliemurdoch, which was on a flat field with a stream on the far side. This stream while not that deep
was difficult to cross with stones being slippery. Nearly everyone during the week fell in including the Rev.
Mr. Gray, who was in camp with us. This prompted a board being set up in the shape of a war memorial
headed „To those who fell in‟ (the burn). Anyone who slipped and needed drying out had their name added
to the list, which by the end of the week was over thirty,
The lads partially dammed the burn so we had a pool for „dookin‟, but not deep enough to
drown.
VISITORS DAY -Wednesday
This was always mid week Transport was laid on to bring parents and family to see their sons
(very few cars in those days). They arrived in time for lunch. This was usually cold meat and salad, tea,
bread and butter and pancakes which was so much easier to judge, because we were never sure of numbers
coming. It was a great afternoon with mixed sports in which the guests joined in and extra pocket money
was usually scrounged by the boys. Later we finished off with tea and cakes.
Fatigues - during the week each tent took turns at fatigues. e.g. helping the cook peel spuds, wash
and prepare vegetables and any other jobs needed. Then for any „bad boys‟ who had small misdemeanours,
there was always latrine duty. This was not to my liking because new ditches needed digging and old filling,
but essential. The screens were of coarse wide jute from a local weaving factory, and everything had to be
fresh for the visitors.
OLD BOYS 18th B.B. ASSOCIATION
In December each year we invited all the ex members of the Company to a meal, a slide show
with entertainment by the officers and boys. It was held in the upstairs hall above our usual hall. It was
always very well attended. We had the caterers in to do the purvey. After the meal the tables were quickly
put away and the seating laid out like a cinema.
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The slide show was old glass slides which projected on to the screen, images of old, bygone
camps and were enjoyed by the old timers whose long hair had now vanished, or was now grey, many slides
caused roars of laughter at the asides from the audience. Occasionally we had local talent doing a „turn‟. e.g.
we had Lesley Mackie doing monologues. She would be about ten years old but already showing signs of
the big star she would become. She later had her own show in London, becoming Edith Piaff or Judy
Garland. It was always a good night, and a great fundraiser as donations came from all over the world from
the old boys. Lesley Mackie's three brothers were, of course, in the Company.
The slides I believe are now deposited in the Dundee Museum for safe keeping.
BAXTER PARK
This was the BIG DAY in Dundee Battalions life. Every company in Town met at prearranged
sites ours (the 18th) was with most west end Companies, was Bell Street. When all organised we then
marched off as No. 1 Battalion all the way to Baxter Park. In these days Baxter Park was kept immaculate,
with its gardens and pavilion with shops and the huge park in front where all the Battalions assembled. Two
officers on their horses made sure we were all aligned properly.
This was the day the prizes were awarded for competitions. The Drill, P.T., First Aid, Swimming,
were all eagerly fought over in the weeks before. Individual ones, The Wilkie Horn for piping, The Silver
Bugle for Bugling and the G. C. Taylor Trophy for bible Class were also presented.
The nearest I got to anything was „Best Derving Piper‟ (a book) and twice third and a second in
the G. C. Taylor Trophy (also books) which is not the same as a first.
The 18th over the years won all the major trophies but not all at once of course.
Then we all marched proudly back to our original meeting place to be dismissed lead by the
bands, each Company proudly holding their prize in the first rank.
The 18th Brass Band was never too popular. Oh! they played well but they were augmented by
„old boys‟ who only wore a Glengarry and this did not go down well at Battalion Headquarters.
The 18th stood „at ease‟ after „dismiss‟ then off we went to Kidd‟s Rooms for our tea. We must
have been the envy of all the other Companies.
SUNDAY AFTER BAXTER PARK
Traditionally this was as big a day as the Saturday parade to Baxter Park. Again each Battalion
met in their favourite spot. Ours was Bell Street. Then at the appointed time we joined up with the
Companies round about to make up No.1 Battalion. The Service was in the Caird Hall and was so popular
that tickets for friends were restricted to 8-10 per company and a full house was usual every year, including
the galleries.
Each year a Chaplain was chosen for the address, usually for the ability to absorb the interest of
nearly 3000 boys and looking back, my favourite must be the Rev. Harry Andrews who in his early days had
been out in the Yukon searching for gold - what tales he could relate.
SILVER JUBILEE
1935 Was a great year in B. B. history. That was the year of the King's Silver Jubilee. How did they
celebrate in B. B. circles the accession of King George V, our Patron. Meetings were held at all levels. They
decided the most suitable form of expression was to send a message of „Loyal Greeting‟ but by whom was
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the message to be conveyed. Then the ideas became a plan by means of which five copies of the message to
the King from the boys of the Boys Brigade would be carried from hand to hand over the length and breadth
of the British Isles, each contained in a Silver Baton surmounted by the B. B. Crest. Stages of the journey
would be approximately four miles, would be covered by boy bearers, each bearer would run with two other
lads as escort. The coveted honour would be entrusted to holders of the King's Badge.
Ceremonial transfers would be arranged at convenient points along the way where the Baton would be
handed over together with the toll of bearers to be signed in turn by every boy as he took custody of the
message.
At the important points the transfer of the message would be attended with civic ceremony, and
Dundee was one, where the Lord Provost, the Council and leaders of Education and ecclesiastical authorities
to be present to hear the message read to the assembled people and all the BB. Companies round about their
area before the next set of runners were sent on their way with the goodwill of the community. Thus was the
Jubilee Marathon conceived - would it prove practical?
The five routes for the five messages were 1. The Northern one (999 miles) John-o' Groats to
Bayswater. 2. North western (565 miles) Londonderry then boat to Glasgow to Shepherds Bush. 3. Western
(211 Miles) Neath to Hammersmith. 4. Southern (412 miles) Penzance to Westminster. 5. Eastern (122
miles) Lowestoft to City, West End.
In all, 2106 boys with escorts ran a distance of 2309 miles and there was a tremendous amount of
co-ordination and planning needed to be done.
Dundee started the operation by sending out invitations to ask for volunteers to come to train at Caird
Park, especially King's Badge holders and runner. I was fortunate and one of those well able to run four
miles and had the benefit of being a holder of the King's Badge.
After evenings of training teams of three were chosen, I was fortunate, to be picked for the final four
miles, Grassy Beach on the Br. Ferry road to Dundee City Centre and to be the bearer of the Silver Baton. A
great honour indeed.
To the plaudits of the crowds and the flashes of the press photographers we ran dead on time into the
City Square -I signed the bearers roll and the Lord Provost read the words of the scroll to great applause.
The Baton was then handed to the Fife Battalion bearer who headed for the „Fifie‟ to sail over to Fife and
carry the message through Fife and across the Forth rail Bridge. Special permission was obtained for this but
boys were only allowed to walk the bridge and hug the sides when a train passed.
Many extra purchases of the Dundee Courier and Advertiser were bought the next day by family and
friends.
WAR TIME
Having passed through all the B. B. ranks, I was gratified to be asked to stay on, my principal forte
was to start a pipe band and help in other ways. As a Warrant Officer the next step up from Staff Sgt. I was
soon taking drill as well as chanter practice for their were quite a few lads interested and we had strong
company when war was declared in 1939.
I was engaged to be married and together with my fiancé worked out that the 24 year olds (my group)
would be called up in June, that was the month most favoured by brides, but we decided not to take a chance
and got married in March and so on 9th March 1940 we were married in the Steeple Church (St. Clements).
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It was well judged for my call-up came in June – „Report to Longniddry, near Aberlady for Basic
Training‟. So off I went to war, and for four weeks we did „square bashing‟.
Dunkirk had just been evacuated and when the weary battle worn troops arrived on Britain's shores
they were told to throw down their gear and go on home leave. We got their mud covered equipment some
even blood-stained, and we were told to clean it up for this was our issue. Rifles were in short supply and we
shared with the others till enough .303 rifles were acquired. Meantime some of us had pikes, this was just a
tube with an old WWI bayonet welded onto it. Imagine facing a crack German unit with a pike. That was
how short we were after Dunkirk. I had no greatcoat for three weeks and so went on parade with my own
overcoat till stocks arrived and then we were given a box to send our own stuff home.
After four weeks of drill, drill and more drill we had also acquired a fair knowledge of a rifle. I was
once on guard duty overnight at Port Cockenzie Power station with a squad, but issued with only one round
of ammunition, whether it was because they didn't trust us or they didn't have enough bullets, we will never
know.
After our basic training we were told to pack and off we went by train to a place called Aberporth on
the cliffs in Wales.
Here we were introduced to a new weapon, a rocket gun. We were now the 115 Anti aircraft Z Battery
of the Royal Artillery. The new guns were a cheap Heath Robinson affair - sheets of steel with rods to guide
the rocket which was about six feet long after assembly. There were four sections. The Venturi at the base,
the middle section containing cordite and the shell with explosives and the brass nose cap which set the
height of the explosion. The gun sat in a ringlet set on the ground with the 3600 marked on it. They were
twin rocket guns so fired two shells at once. They were set off on the word, fire, by pressing a button which
was worked by a sixpenny battery, the kind 1 had in a flashlight at home.
Our battery would eventually have 64 guns firing a box barrage of 128 shells up into the sky. Only
one shell going off scared the daylights out of me, so heaven help the pilot that saw 128 tails of flame
coming straight at him.
After only one week of test firing we were ready to go to what was to be our first permanent station.
The only glad ones were the pilots of the planes pulling sleeves at a safe distance behind them, who went on
strike as too many shells were near misses on the planes and not the sleeves. I believe they got extra danger
money to carry on.
So off again by train for destination unknown in the dark we approached Birmingham. The train
stopped, enemy bombers were attacking the town. The train moved on through a burning station and kept
going.
In the morning someone said “where are we?”
I looked out the carriage window and said I can tell you - we are on the Tay Bridge.
The train pulled into the station at Dundee and we disembarked. We lined up and marched along Dock
Street and to my amusement our officer stopped a workman to enquire the way to Mid Craigie - we had six
Dundee men on our Battery who could have told him.
So we were billeted at Longtown Terrace and Road, houses vacated by the Polish Army and we built
our guns at Happy Hillock close by.
I applied for a „sleeping out pass‟ and to my good luck was granted two nights a week and so it was I
looked in to St. Peters Hall on a Friday night to see how they were getting on. They had lots of boys but
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short on staff. I offered to help and after only two weeks the skipper took me aside - he had via the minister
complaints that the boys were being trained for the army. In the interest of peace I was asked not to take part
till the war was over. The uniform I had on was frightening the mothers.
So that was that till 1946.
Job Changes
MY TIME IN RATTRAY
After six long years of war, I returned to J. F. Robertson‟s but life was now so different there. In the
men‟s places were young ladies, two for every man away to the forces. And old J. F. as he was
affectionately known said the girls would stay and leave as natural wastage, in other words, get married. But
there was so little to do. Three people doing one job. I couldn't stand being idle, waiting for the ladies to get
married, so I applied for a managers job with A. P. Mathewson & Co as Mill Manager of the Mill in
Polepark Road, spinning jute yarns.
This job did not affect my B. B. work, it was Friday nights and Sunday mornings as usual. My wife
jokingly used to say that she couldn't die on a Friday or a Sunday as that was B. B. days.
But after a few years I decided to broaden my mill experience and took a job as manager this time
spinning manmade fibres on ring spinning frames and due to the death of another manager. This was with
Thomas Thomson (Blairgowrie) Ltd., at Blairgowrie and so with regrets I left St. Peters BB., who gave me a
presentation bible for my 25 years service, which is still highly thought of and well used.
Blairgowrie is a lovely town, with the river Ericht flowing with Rattray on one side and Blairgowrie
on the other. They did not have a Boys Brigade which in my humble opinion is better suited for town boys,
they had boy scouts run by the Rattray school headmaster, Mr. Miller. So I decided to take a back seat but
not for long. The minister, The Rev. Ewan Traill, soon talked me into taking over the Boys Club and so I
was now an officer in the National Association of Boys Clubs (N.A.B.C.)
We met in the hall at the top end of Rattray (on the way out towards Alyth) while the church was on
the Balmoral Road next door to my tied house.
To get into the spirit of the N.A.B.C. I attended an officer‟s course at Dalguise House (Near Dunkeld).
Here I underwent a number of activities and did marquetry and plaster moulding which I later put into use at
Rattray.
But it was boxing that was really the highlight of our evenings at the Club. The lads were a wilder,
rougher type that I was used to but luckily they got rid of their anger and aggression when they entered the
ring. Some did very well and appeared in the Scottish ring in the Scottish Amateur Boxing Championships
and did quite well.
My wife in the meantime was invited to help with the guides and aided Annie Primrose Boyd with the
girls. Being an ex-Guider and Ranger Guide this was no bother to her. I found her at home one evening
running up knickers and undies for one of her girls. This surprised me, but I understood when she said it was
for the daughter of one of the gypsy clan MacGregors who was now a car dealer and quite wealthy, he could
light his cigar with fivers but clothes for poor Mary - no way.
We got together as a joint Club venture by running a weekly bus trip to Perth Swimming Baths. The
highlight was a stop on the way back to collect chips etc. the order put in on entering Perth and collected on
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the way back. This outing being sponsored by the Council. We filled a fifty-seater every week from Rattray
alone, which the Council paid.
I picked up a new hobby in Rattray, bee leeping. I heard that the teacher, Miss Downie, at Bridge of
Calley was retiring and wanted rid of her three hives. Her brother was a mechanic in the mill and he offered
to help me get started, if interested. So I have become quite proficient. The locals never used face nets or
gloves, so I learnt the local way and I don't remember ever being stung - was I foolish or foolhardy?
MISS PROCTOR
Old Miss Proctor, like myself, was addicted to the Organisation. She with the Scouts and I with the B.
B. She, like my wife, wouldn't see anyone in her way if she could do the job herself.
The weather was beautiful in July and great weather for bees but also just the right conditions for
swarming. That's the time the Queen Bee decides the hive has too many inhabitants and decides to fly off
with roughly half the hive usually about fifteen thousand leaving a new Queen she has prepared ready to
merge and take over.
As I came out the gate of Keathbank Mill for lunch I became aware of the swarm just above my head.
travelling in the same direction as me. Could they be a swarm from one of my hives? No, they are coming
from the opposite direction, but what if they had swung round?
They flew down the road, cars just missing them, they were so low, then suddenly they swerved to the
left - rose up slightly and the leaders went right down Miss Proctor's chimney. All the rest followed.
I rushed home and asked “Has any of my hives swarmed"? "No", said my wife. 1 explained what had
happened - keep my lunch hot, I am away back to see if I could help.
By the time I got up to Miss Proctor's neat tidy house, there was the fire Brigade there. Miss P. had
heard a strange noise behind her wall mounted electric fire and thinking it was a bird, got her tool kit out and
using a screw driver took off the fire and of course fifteen thousand bees covered in soot and all a bit angry
buzzed around the room. She telephoned the Fire Brigade who put water from hoses down to flush them out.
What a mess in her room. It took ages to get her tidy room back to normality.
The River Ericht is famed for its salmon and during their run my wife informed me that a beautiful
piece of middle-cut salmon was being left on our window ledge at the side of the house. This lasted every
week as long as these beautiful fish were running up stream. I guessed it was taken from the river and
cautiously enquired of my head mechanic. The story of the mystery of the wax papered piece of salmon
unfolded. Once a week the gates of our lade needed greased and so the apprentice was sent along the lade to
the gate which was wound down and closed. The water which was about three feet deep then all ran away
leaving any salmon gasping for breath in little pools. These were nearly always three or four fish and the
apprentice's orders were pick the best one and slip it down to the mechanic shop for distribution. Middle-cut
came to the manager (via the window sill). The next piece to the mechanic and the large tail piece to the
apprentice. The fish wardens never bothered us as we only ever had a few fish to tip back into the main
stream.
The Thomson‟s were very strict in obeying the law on illegal fishing.
Ashgrove Mill was well down the river from us and they got huge numbers of fish finding their way
into their lade. On one occasion they borrowed sixty-eight back to the main stream. Nairn Thomson invited
me to go with him to Ashgrove. At the Mill you crossed a very small bridge to get to the Mill entrance and
on going over there was a whopper of a fish in a small pool under the bridge. I saw it but did not comment.
We paid our respects to Fred Melville, the manager, and came out to return but at the bridge Nairn stopped.
15

The fish had gone. He had obviously seen it coming in. Now he turned on his heel and marched back. Fred
denied knowing about it but someone not knowing Nairn was in the Mill had snaffled it. Well, we searched
the Mill from top storey to basement and never found it.
Later that evening after I got home, I 'phoned Fred. He laughed. Nairn would have had a long search.
All he did to hide it was to go in to the spinning department, lift 10 - 17' sliver out of a nearly can and put
the fish head first down. It fitted perfectly. Then put the sliver back on top of the fish and “pieced up” and so
Nairn walked past the hundreds of cans which were to all appearances working perfectly. Fred too was
obviously one who got his „middle-cut‟. Over the years my first aid experience did a lot of good and highly
successful. My one and only failure happened in Rattray. I used to walk up the side of the lade to do my
daily visitation to Bramble Bank Flax Mill. On this fateful day I met a wee girl about ten years of age. She
was crying. I asked her what was the matter. “My wee brother is in the lade”. I turned and ran back. The
lade when working, the water wheel is running fast, and so the wee lad who I reckoned about four years old,
would be carried to the grille in front of the wheel. The grille was to keep trees and roots going through and
breaking the buckets of the wheel. So, sure enough, the wee lad was face down at the grille. I reached down
and pulled him out by the jersey. The mechanic joined me while the apprentice 'phoned the police. Alas he
was past help and the police said no hope, he was dead.
Their mother, generally known as “Madgie Tackets" had a big family and this was her youngest. She
came to my house to thank me for my efforts. I was more upset than she was and I was astonished to hear
her ask where the bairn‟s shoes were as they may be used by some of the others.
I loved Blair and played for the Blairgowrie Cricket Club and in the winter for the Hockey Club.
THE REV. EWAN TRAILL, M.C.
I first met him leaning over the dividing wall of the Kirk which was right next door to us in Rattray.
“Hi” he said. “I'm the minister. Welcome to Rattray”. It was late afternoon so I invited him in to meet the
wife. “Tea or a dram”, I asked. “Whisky if you've got I it love the stuff”. Well, after a couple of glasses of
my best he left. He was what I would describe as a character, a worthy.
He had a heart of gold - generous to a fault. He never turned a traveller or a gipsy away without 50p
or even a pound. He never had any money despite a worthwhile stipend and three berry-fields as a glebe.
The three fields of rasps with its annual yield helped a bit for it was only then that he got money in his hand.
He paid the butcher and the grocer and any tradesmen he had used during the year and on a poor year
he didn't even square the accounts then. It got so bad that at the session meeting, (I was there) the grocer,
Ken McKenzie, stood up and said it was a disgrace that the minister “has not paid me for over a year” - a
moment's silence and the butcher stood up and said “He hasn't paid me either”. Then up jumped the minister
and said “I know, I'm a very bad boy” and said down again. What could you do with a person like that?
When his wife went to hospital to have a baby, the first girl for a hundred years at the manse, she
came to home to a house with no electric or gas as he was away behind with the payment and he got cut off.
I met him and congratulated him on the new arrival - he said “we are going to call her Patricia Penelope
Traill - just imagine her school bag with these initials. Sounds like a disinfectant T.C.P.” he said.
At Kirk socials he and his wife were the life and sole of the party. His most outrageous example was
at one event he announced the party was going dead and need wakening up. He said to his wife and the rest
of us “Let's play the death of Nelson”.
No one other than his wife had heard of it. We need a volunteer to play Nelson. So he pulled on to her
feet a pretty sour faced lady of the congregation and said “Lie down on the table”. Lying along the table he
said “I need a telescope for Nelson”. Taking off his jacket he said “this will do” - now to Nelson. “Look up
the sleeve as if you are looking through a telescope”. She did this. Meantime his wife had gone off to the
kitchen and brought out a jug of water and slipped to him. Now he proceeded to pour it down his jacket
sleeve all over the helpless victim. Well, it amused the audience who were roaring with laughter, but I'm
sure there was one lady who was not amused.
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My wife and I were invited to dinner out at the manse one evening and his stories were unending. He
told us that at college he had got engaged to an American fellow student and so missed her when she
graduated and went back to the U.S. that he signed on as a waiter on a cruise ship and jumped ship when it
reached Canada. Not knowing you didn't need a passport to enter the U.S. he left the train on the Canadian
border and hiked for miles through woods to get to the American side and so he made it.
He turned to his wife and said “I wonder how the poor lass is, for I never broke off the engagement”?
He was a wonderful preacher but on a quiet Sunday evening service he lost the attention of his
audience. It came about when two teenage sisters came in an sat behind an elderly gent who had removed
his bowler hat and placed it brim up on the seat beside him.
My wife and I were a few seats behind the sisters. We were in the middle of the sermon when the
youngest girl suddenly became sick and leaning over vomited right into the bowler hat. Understandably, the
elderly gent was engrossed in the sermon. The two girls quietly got up and left. Now we have a situation
with no one near the man. At the finish of the service the man got up to leave and suddenly noticed the hat
and contents. Well, he looked around, no one near. He looked up perhaps for a recalcitrant seagull. I looked
down and explained. The mystery solved. The Rev. Ewan knew something had diverted the congregation
and had a good laugh about it later.
Now the „tinkie‟ McGregors never came to church but it was a must for them to have their babies
christened so the Rev. Ewan decided to do something about it. The next time a baby from that family arrived
he told the head of the clan it would be ten pounds pointing out that they contributed nothing for his service
to the church. “No way”, said McGregor, he would go elsewhere but Rattray was his Parish and no minister
in and around would do the christening so a contrite McGregor paid up under protest. Now strictly that was
not allowed but Ewan was his own man and the church became ten pounds a time richer. What 121 thought
about it I have no idea. Probably they were unaware of it.
But, things couldn't go on like they were. At a session meeting the grocer, the butcher and others said
they would tear up their bills if the minister would look for another church.
Some weeks later I met Ewan. “I've got a new job Harry, but I am a wee bit worried. My wife and I
are to run the Anglo Indian School in Kalimpong.” “That's great”, I said, but he added “we are in control of
their finances”. It was no surprise to read a year or two later that the Traills‟ were back in Scotland in
Peebles, for an article in the Sunday Post said on a cold Sunday night service they were handing out hot
soup to the congregation as they left the church.. Then later I heard he was a minister in the church at
Longhope in the Orkneys and a volunteer Lifeboat-man. What a character.
I MOVE AGAIN
I applied for a job in Greenock but as my qualifications were so good I was offered a job as manager
of their big branch in London which I accepted.
Why did I leave Rattray which my wife and I really loved? Well, although I got on with the young
boss, he never really left you to do the job you were paid to do. I explained to him on leaving that it was like
him having a dog and barking himself. Despite that I left on good terms.
TATE & LYLE, LONDON
Tate and Lyle being a 51% owner of Thomas Boag & Company of Greenock and London, had Boag
made new bags for one cwt and two cwt per sugars in both places. I was the new manager of the London
branch. The factory where the new bags were made and second hand or used ones were stored lay on the
side of the Thames near Tower Bridge on the down riverside near the famous Hays Wharf. New jute cloth
was sent from Scotland and the used bags, after emptying of sugar were brought from Silvertown and
Plaistow refineries to our riverside factory for grading, cleaning and mending. I had the privilege of being
given a tour of the refineries. Sugar came in different styles of bag from all over the world. Brazil was the
17

only country to use cotton bags which later I sold to Bunzi & Biach for making bank notes. Then there
Cubans, Australian, Japanese, Jamaicans, Trinidad and few from lesser places. At the start of the process the
bags were sliced open and sometimes the sugar came out in solid lumps known to the workers as
gravestones., This was dropped between the rotating rollers in the floor and the process started. From a
heavy brown mass (treacle) to light yellow (syrup) it slowly emerged as pure white sugar or brown if for
sweetening coffee etc.
I also on an odd occasion went to the headquarters of Tate & Lyle at Mincing Lane. It was a luxurious
place and I was surprised to find that the director's mess and manager's mess was run in similar lines to the
army. There was a mess president and no one sat down to lunch until he sat first. He was in strict control of
conduct. I noticed one young manager getting a dressing down for having more than two drinks during his
meal. He was taken aside and spoken to.
The empty bags came to us by barge during high tide. We estimated during the sugar season we
handled a million bags a week so our warehouses next to the factory were always stock high with bags.
Well, not too high. The ceilings were about five foot six to five foot eight inches high. The buildings had
been erected in Napoleonic time when the average height of men must have been just below five foot six
inches.
After I have been there about a year there was a sudden swing to bringing in sugar in bulk and
auctioned off no bags needed. I could see the writing on the wall for the second hand bag trade and returned
to Greenock as General Manager soon after that.
Tate & Lyle sold their 51% to Jas. Scott & Sons of Dundee who owned T. Boag & Company so I was
once again connected to the Dundee jute trade.
I had one experience before I left London. A trip on one of the tug boats that brought in the barges. It
was a Saturday morning and with my two sons aged thirteen and ten had popped in to show them around
before leaving the area. We met the barge captain who offered us a trip down the river to Greenwich. The
boys thought it would be great so we climbed aboard. I never realised how busy the river was and how every
passing large ship, and there were many, tossed these wee barges around like corks. The tug was pulling
about six barges behind it and they were all for different destinations, but he didn‟t dock and released them.
Oh no! He manoeuvred his tug so that it was in a position to release the barge and set it free so that it went
straight to its destination arriving slow enough for hands to guide it in.
Then, up came a cabin boy with four cups of char but for some reason the tossing of the waves had
turned both my sons green and they were really sick. I was unaffected. I have always been a good sailor but
I'm sure the boys will remember the cruise on the Thames all their lives.
6th GREENOCK COMPANY
After my spell in London, which only lasted a year and a half, I was asked to return to head office in
Greenock to be General Manager. I jumped at this because my wife was homesick for Scotland as London
can be a big lonely city. We had made a few friends when we joined Bromley church where I became
Sunday School Superintendent quite rapidly, but living in Beckenham, Kent, it was not easy to visit friends
on a regular basis due to distance. I was in the Men's Club and the highlight for me was when we visited the
Houses of Parliament where one of our members was Chief Librarian to the House of Lords. We were
shown much that the public did not see. I even sat in the Commons in Churchill's seat and saw for myself
the scratches he made when he put his feet up on the table in front of him. When the others were not looking
I, too, had a go, so for a fleeting second - well I could dream couldn't I?
The most amazing thing that happened was the return of our lost cat. When we were all packed and
ready to move from Blair to London we decided once the furniture had left to travel on the night sleeper, so,
obviously, we had time on our hands so chose to go to my wife's sister in Dundee and spend some time with
18

her until the taxi we ordered came to take us to the station. So, with Punch, our dog, on a lead and Trusty,
our cat, in a box with specially made air holes, we arrived at Jess's house about four o'clock. We let the cat
out of the box because she would have another long spell down South. She seemed happy enough exploring
the new house she now found herself in. We had tea, and just before the taxi was due we got ready and said
where was the cat? It was no where to be found. Of course, after looking under the bed and on top of the
wardrobe we accused the kids of opening the front door but they swore they were never out, so a mystery.
The taxi came - still no cat - so we left the empty cat box with Jess in case the cat turned up. The family
were upset at losing the cat specially Alan whose birthday cat it was but off we went to our great adventure
in London.
We got a letter later that week, good news and bad. The good news - the cat turned up. After we had
gone it came down from the bedroom chimney. It was one of these grates where a lid came down and closed
when not in use. It had been open and the cat was simply sitting up the chimney ignoring our pleas of pus,
pus. Maybe it didn't want to go back in the box.
The bad news - Jess had a mouse, so she decided to keep the cat for a few days to catch the mouse.
The cat escaped and hadn't been seen since – women! Despite Jess and her five kids searching for miles
around the cat was definitely on the run perhaps it was on its way back to Blair, we had heard of such feats.
Six months later Lottie was asked to go and see the headmaster at the Beckenham Primary School
about Alan. Evidently unknown to us his work was suffering and after subtle questioning, the staff at school
found he was still worrying about his lost cat.
Should we buy him another - no he did not want any old cat. He wanted Trusty.
Lottie was a great letter writer and corresponded with a friend Daisy Downie in Blair and gave her the
story of Alan and his cat. Daisy soon had told the tale to others in Blair. One old lady who ran the Baby
Linen Shop, a devout Christian - and who had nothing to do with spiritualism - told Daisy she had prayed
about this and if we wrote to the address 4 Airlie Place she was sure we would get our cat. Lottie told me
this and I am a sceptic – “I'm not writing to the owner or occupier of 4 Airlie Place asking about a cat we
lost six months ago”. Now there is an Airlie Place in Dundee but the lady in Blair didn't know this and so I
didn't write because I didn't want to look a fool.
A few more weeks go by - Daisie Downie wrote again “Miss Grant is asking did you get the cat? If
you didn't you should now try the Woodyard at Sea Braes”.
Lottie put her foot down - you must write, Sea Braes and Airlie Place are across the road from one
another and we owe the old lady the courtesy of a reply.
Well, I wrote feeling an idiot, to 4 Airlie Place explaining the facts. I got a reply almost immediately –
“yes, there is a cat coming to our window every day from the wood-yard at Sea Braes and answers to the
name Trusty now that we had given it to her and it is a poor soul living rough. By the way the writer asked
are you Harry Duffus that works with me at J. F. Robertson” - Yes I was.
Well, we arranged for Jess to deliver the cat box and send it on to London and I got a car to collect it
from the station.
We, of course, did not open the box at once, but spoke through the air holes “Trusty”, we said. The
purring began and kept going till we got home.
Then, stuffing paper up the chimney in case. We opened the box. Out jumped Trusty, no doubt at all -
Punch the terror of all cats - licked its face while the cat went in and out its legs. We needed no further
proof.
Then weeks later we lost Punch. This was unbelievable. He never got lost. Everywhere we lived he
found his way back - not this time. We searched for three weeks. Lottie had been up to the lost dogs section
at Battersea but to no avail. Then a neighbour said “tell the police it‟s stolen”. They pay attention that way.
It seemed to work. We got a call from Battersea. They had a dog answering Punch's description. Lottie went
up and there was the bold boy sitting there looking so forlorn in a cage, but whenever she said his name he
perked up and on getting out kept licking her face even on the bus he sat on her knee, despite his size. On
arrival home it was the cats turn to welcome him. He was found 17 miles away heading north - maybe to
Scotland. That's a distance of Dundee to Alyth.
Later on the train heading for Greenock the children noticed the sign Scotland and said we are back in
Scotland. At that Punch raised his head and wailed - it was eerie.
19

We were now entering a new era in our lives.
THE NEW CAPTAIN
It is always with a feeling of apprehension that one starts a new job, especially meeting completely
new faces in a brand new town. Greenock turned out to be a real friendly place, the town a bit run down and
workaday but the people were warm hearted and generous and made my job easy and I soon settled in.
I was wearing a different jacket one day and this one had my B. B. lapel badge on it. I noticed Jim
Lightbody kept looking at it. “Were you a BB man?”, he asked. “yes, 25 years man and boy”, I replied. It
turned out he was an officer in the 6th Greenock Company who had just lost their Captain and at the start of
the season were short of staff. Would I like to come along and help? My wife had only remarked the day
before I should join something to keep me occupied in the evenings. So, of course, I said I'd go along that
Friday with Jim. Little did I know I would end up as the new Captain after only a few weeks.
Then we started taking names for the various classes and found one wee lad who said, “What's the
use. I started badge classes this last two years and they are never finished.” I was annoyed at this. In my old
18th days this never happened. So I gathered my new Company around me and said “I'll make you a
promise. I will never start a class that does not finish the course and get you a badge if you pass the test.”
There was then a rush to join the usual classes, but badges are quite scarce in the ranks. Within three years
we had Queen's badge winners and the company had risen from nearly forty to eighty boys.
One class we started was a bugle band. No, not bugles, trumpets - a longer version that is played the
same way and has the same tune. I started the band although we had no one who could be an instructor, or
play an instrument, but I knew the BB Headquarters provided a gramophone record of all the tunes with
instructions. So with this alone we got going. The first session was tough but it was amazing how quickly
the boys picked it up. I was proud of their efforts but our partial success caused a big problem. The minister,
the Rev. Hobson-Robb decided that our best boy would play the last post on the armistice Sunday. I tried to
dissuade him telling him truthfully that we had not reached these heights. But he was adamant. “I'm sure
you'll manage.” It's not often I do a sneaky thing but I could not have the salute to the fallen of the two
World Wars ending in a fiasco.
With the help of a Staff Sergeant we ran the training from a gramophone record and put a white spot
exactly on the start of the last post and another at the end. He then practised placing the needle exactly on
the spot as it spun round and lifted it exactly at the end.
It had been agreed that because of the trumpet being loud the bugler would march out on cue to the
vestry and play when the cue came from the pulpit. On the Sunday I was apprehensive. The boy carrying the
bugle marched down the aisle into the vestry. The Staff Sergeant and then on cue the deadly accurate the last
post was sounded - perfect.
I was a bit embarrassed when the minister said at the end of the service how well the boy had done.
He had not heard the last post played better. We did not tell him of the deception.
CAMP AT BLAIRGOWRIE/RATTRAY
On the east coast of Scotland B. B. Companies go for only one week's holiday usually under canvas,
but on the west coast, certainly in Glasgow and Greenock, it is two weeks. In my humble opinion it is not
very fair to wives if their husbands only get two weeks vacation. But now I am a BB Captain of the 6th
Greenock and we were making plans. The usual question, where to go? Jim Lightbody said it would nice if
we could go somewhere different. Had they ever been to the east side of Scotland? I had friends in
Blairgowrie and Rattray I could ask. So I 'phoned a friend in the Dundee office who was a Blair man, he
could get us a scout hut in Rattray in a field next to the school which we could use as a dining area, but
bring out own tents. There were wee problems to overcome. We had to insure the hut against fire and
damage and provide extra fire extinguishers and we would give the scouts a modest donation to their funds.
All this agreed, we were set. My wife was reasonably happy to get digs with people she knew for she always
loved the area around our old home and she would help the week by baking scones and cakes. There was
20

one nice thing about my new Company every year they got in touch with Quarrier‟s Homes and with
permission took two lads to camp with them and even gave them spending money so that they felt like one
of the boys and every year they had a wonderful time.
The camp at Rattray was a great success. Every day the Rev. Mr. Henny came and had tea and scones
about eleven and the Rattray people were real nice to the boys. All went well for the first week. We did a
circular to Alyth, through the Den and back by St. Fink to Rattray. We had cycles hired from Whytes of
Blair and did the beautiful five lochs to see the ospreys, but we had one lad who disobeying the order to
keep together two abreast had when we came to a brae downhill dashed off, showing off. He failed to take
the corner and crashed. He was a bit stunned and so two officers escorted him back to see a doctor.
To my horror the doctor decided to put him overnight in the cottage hospital to keep an eye on him.
This was OK but unknown to me they were short of patients and the place was being threatened with closure
so we couldn't get him out the next day. In fact he was nearly a week before the Matron gave permission, I
was worried in case his parents thought he was badly hurt because of the amount of time in hospital.
By the end of the first week the officer in charge of the boy‟s bank reported that most were about
broke. I called an officer's meeting and discussed the problem. It was easy got over, we were in the
raspberry growing year in Britain and they were ready for picking. We got the cook to fix up early breakfast
and a local farm was approached and the boys would be welcome.
We put it to the boys who jumped at this new experience which put cash in their pockets. That night,
after a good tea, they still had some left for fish suppers and lemonade which they drank by the gallon. One
lad who did not go to the berries made his money by collecting the empty bottles returning them for the
desposit, as most were too lazy or too rich to bother.
THE JOUK OOT
After I had been in the Greenock office a week I asked, "Where does one get a haircut?". The head
clerk said “if you go out on the main road, take a first right there is a barber‟s in the side street. He will
probably do it right away”. It was about 11 am and so off I shot to get my hair cut. There were a couple of
retired gentlemen waiting and the chair was being vacated. I was wearing my white manager's coat which
prompted the next question I suppose because the barber asked if I was a „jouk oot‟? I hadn't a clue what he
was talking about. Not wishing to cause embarrassment I thought the answer might be yes. Well, sit down in
the chair said the barber. “What about the old gents”. They had all the time in the world. “They are
pensioners. You are a jouk oot”. The penny dropped. I had slipped out of my work place and had to get a
quick cut and get back to business. The hairdresser was very chatty and inquisitive. Where are you working
I told him Boags. “Oh, he said I get a lot of chaps from there”. “Jouk oots?” I asked. “Some” he said, “Well”
said “I am the new General Manager and I may have to put a stop to that”. Conversation dried up then.
THE LOST BOY
The area I looked over from my office window was called Charing Cross. You could see trains, ships,
buses, cars and pedestrians. The wee sound boats were dumping sand on the edge of the quay and there were
always kids playing around with the sand so it was no surprise to read one morning in the papers that a four
year old was missing last seen playing near the harbour.
I immediately assumed he had fallen in the water and been drowned. I presumed the police looked
there first. Evidently not. Now they appealed for searchers. I volunteered.
For two days we walked under police supervision up the steep fern covered inclines to the cut, a man
made canal. We were a few feet apart and it was fair weather the first day. The second it rained all day and
were all soaked. The third day the body of a wee lad turned up as a tug churned up the water to leave the
harbour.
If I had to give marks for police efficiency and use of brains, I would give two out of ten for I am sure
every searcher thought as I did. If he was even on the edge of the quay before he disappeared where else
would he be?
21

MAYOR'S CHAIN OF OFFICE
The beautiful gold chain that the mayor wore on ceremonial occasions was kept in the council office
which was above the police station. We had read with amazement that a daring thief had walked through the
police station and up the stair to the city offices to steal the chain. It was never recovered. I‟m afraid my two
out of ten fell even further.
BRITISH GLUES PAISLEY
It was part of my job to go out and obtain a contract to buy all the bags from certain firms. I went off
to visit British Glues at Elderslie Paisley. I had not been there before but soon found the big entrance to the
large premises set in the middle of fields. As we went up the drive I noticed large mounds of blue material. I
had never seen this colour before but as I reached the first of them they took off - millions of bluebottles
which had settled on piles of bones. We entered and asked for the manager but the smell - to say it was
horrible was an understatement. It was so foul - I was rude enough to say to the manager of the plant how
could he stand the smell? He looked puzzled and looking round he saw a forklift truck belching smoke from
its exhaust. He said “it's that damned forklift. I'll get it serviced”. He was absolutely immune to that smell
having worked in the place for years. When I got out into the fresh air I was physically sick.
THE BISCUIT BOXES
I may have been a bit hard on the Greenock Police force but I had a relative there - a bobby. Although
he had passed his sergeant's exams and the inspector's ones he never got promoted. I believe you had to be
one of the boys. One night he was on car patrol he saw a known thief coming along the main street carrying
two biscuit tins. He immediately jumped from the car and asked the usual question “what have we here
then?” It was a fair cop as they say. “I broke into the local ice-cream shop and found these tins which were
filled with pound notes of various denominations”. So the owner of the shop was aroused from his bed and
despite the door of his shop being forced he denied the boxes were his. Could this have been a tax avoidance
effort? - anyway the police charity were the winners in the end.
BOAG’S - SECOND-HAND BAGS
We bought back bags from every source - they could be after flour, beans, sugar, bone meal, coal, in
fact after any product using bags. If after foodstuffs, they were vacuum cleaned and the reclaimed went to
animal feeding stuff. The bags would be washed and mended for resale. Now, bags waiting their turn on the
vacuum cleaners were a great attraction for the rats of the area, and we had more than our share. So every
time say a stack of flour bags was about to be cleaned we had hardboard bent in pieces to form a gigantic
circle round the stack of bags.
On one occasion I took Punch, my dog. He was put in the ring and as the stack was pulled down the
rats bolted in all directions. But they could not jump over the hardboard arena. Punch had never seen or
caught a rat before but one bit his lip. He shook it off and immediately became a slayer of rats. He got
twenty-six that day; the men got seventy between them. Punch was now hooked on being a rat catcher.
Although we lived about two miles away he used to go off at night and call on our night watchman
who 'phoned to say where he was and the dog would stay all night on a rat hunt.
He sometimes gave me visit during the day. If I was not in my office he would walk over all the
papers on my desk, with wet paws if it had been raining then sit quietly until I came in. He was some dog.
THE BIG TOE
Some of my memories of Greenock are still with me. This one saw me attending the B. B. hobbling by
the aid of my B. B. walking stick. As a member of Boag‟s I sometimes went out buying parcels of bags that
had been used. Did you know that when a ship landed in this case Greenock, the cargo, if in bags, could be
22

emptied into containers and these second hand bags were sold by the first mate whose job it was to get the
best price for them? So off I went to view a pallet of ten thousand bags after grain. I went aboard until then I
had not realised the cargo hold was covered by massive beams of thick wood which were moved to the side
to allow the unloading of the cargo. I went with the mate to see the condition of the bags but inadvertently
tipped a beam over on to my big toe. Oh! the agony. I quickly did a deal, a few pence per bag. He was
happy, so was I. A handsome profit for Boag. I couldn't get off the ship quick enough and back to the office
and off with my shoe. Already it was swollen and turning black and blue and throbbing. Boy, was it
throbbing. How I got my shoe on again to go home, I do not know, but as soon as I got in the door, off came
the shoe again. It was now black and beating like a drum. My efforts each night when I took off my shoe
became a great matter of laughter from my family who lined up to see my toe. Even years later I am
constantly reminded by them if they see me stumble - remember the big toe Pop. I shall always remember
that big toe and the lack of sympathy it caused.
ALAN AT LARGS
When we moved to Greenock Alan was 11 plus in Beckenham. He had to twiddle his fingers for a
whole year as Scottish education was a year ahead. Now he was back in Scotland he was a year behind his
age group. So folks, remember this is if your firm moves you to England and brings you back, there is a time
to move so that you do not interrupt their education. Well, we had visitors one weekend and his cousin
Kenneth Nicoll came with his parents. He was eleven. Six months younger. Alan asked his mother very
nicely if they could go down to Largs by bus. There is the seaside, putting greens and Nardini's the famous
ice cream shop. So saying off you go and behave, she assumed they would. They were back in time for tea
elated with their day out. Imagine our astonishment to hear the two wee lads tell how they had hired a
rowing boat and rowed out to get behind the wash of big liners passing up the Clyde. What danger they were
in. These liners were huge and the wash were waves of immense size tossing the wee boat about. How could
any boat hirer give two eleven year olds a boat? What stupidity. The following weekend I went down to
Largs with Alan who pointed out the man who hired them the boat. I will not tell you what I said to him but
his ears would burn for some time and I would consider that he would think twice about renting our boats to
children. It was an accident waiting to happen.
I MOVE AGAIN
The B. B. was founded in 1883. The 6th Greenock BB. was celebrating their founding and they
invited back their old padre, the Rev. Mr. Oswald now in Dundee, to give the address. It was my last Sunday
with the company as I had been moved to M. & C. Hill, Dundee the next week.
Mr. Oswald could hold the boys' interest. I will always remember his sermon entitled “And David
slew a lion in a pit on a snowy day”. Real blood and thunder story. I was no longer in the company so
slipped out at the end of the sermon.
On settling in at my new manager's position in Dundee I offered my services to Dundee Battalion
boys B. B. in case any company need a hand. I had offered at a very opportune moment. Camperdown
Church, not yet built, was starting up in a school in Charleston under the Rev. Peter Gordon, and he needed
help. The mother church was Balgay and the Rev. Mr. Oswald whom I had to see first. So that Sunday I
went to Balgay Church - I knew where to go - I attended Sunday school as a child, my teacher Charlie Lang
and amazingly his B. B. were on parade and more amazingly his sermon was “And David slew a lion in a pit
on a snowy day”.
At the end of the service I went round to his vestry and introduced myself and offered my services
which were immediately accepted. “By the way,” I said, “I enjoyed your sermon. It was as good as the one I
heard in Greenock last Sunday”. He roared with laughter. It's not often a minister gets caught out. In case
you think I was cheeky, I knew his daughter Alice, who was married to Murdoch Macpherson of BBC fame
for religious broadcasting. Murdoch and I got on the bus from the same stop each morning to go to the
office.
23

STARTING UP
After the meeting the Rev. Mr. Oswald I had a meeting with the Rev. Peter Gordon the following
Sunday. We hit it off right away. We met in the school where services would be held until funds and the
new church were available. He was happy to have me as his new Captain for the Boys Brigade and we were
given the resurrected number of 34. Taking me to the door of the school he pointed to three tenement blocks
across the road. He said in these three blocks along we have 90 children so you can expect a reasonable size
of company.
How right he was. The first months we had 36 enrolments and by six months we were over the
hundred. My next problem was uniforms, which cost a lot of money. I met my old boss Hubert Scott whom I
had influenced in his choice to accept the presidency of the Dundee Battalion. I told him my problems and
he immediately offered to pay for all our uniforms and gave me a cup for a prize. I gratefully accepted.
Of course, with such large numbers of recruits I needed officers and believe me a company will only
be good as long as you have keen officers. I was lucky. The minister had only to appeal in his intimations
and I had a great nucleus in no time at all.
At a meeting of the potential staff I found out their strengths and weaknesses. Some had been B. B.
boys before so knew what to expect. Some had no experience but very keen. Some had first aid experience.
Some had sons in the new company - I myself had two, George, a sergeant in the 6th Greenock was now a
Sergeant in the 34th and Alan now a corporal. They would be a big help. I got all the books I needed from
the B. B. H.Q. and I warned the officers to get reading and studying as they must be at least two lessons
ahead of their class. I can tell you they played their parts well. Charlie Baxter my number one and his son a
W.O. David Mackintosh a railwayman, Mr. Short, David Johnstone the school janitor, David McDermott a
W.O. Mind you, when it came to class work we needed them all, as we used every classroom in the school.
THE 34TH BB. CAMP AT STONEHAVEN
For our first company venture we found a camp site next to the Mackie Academy in Stonehaven thus
avoiding the site near the river mouth much fancied by the Glasgow Companies which occasionally flooded
leaving them all soaked especially if the stream overflowed overnight. We were delighted our minister, the
Rev. Peter Gordon decided to get under canvas with us. In his shorts and white panama hat he was very
popular with the boys. My wife came as cook and we gave her the camp bed, normally in our first Aid tent.
We set it on two crates of lemonade. But I am afraid she never got to like camp life but like a good trooper
she stuck it out. But our dog Punch loved the life. Our latrines were hired chemical toilets housed in
individual little tents but we also had a trench dug surrounded by jute canvas and poles. The jute procured
from my place of work. They played a big part in our Camping experience for on our second morning came
the cry. The latrines and toilets were stolen or missing. The padre was terribly upset. Who would do such a
thing? I had a good idea from previous experience. I knew that the Glasgow played tricks on each other. The
padre paid a visit to the company downstream. We explained we did not think it funny as we had women
who needed these facilities badly. They denied it completely, but the latrines and toilets were back within an
hour.
Another unusual thing I discovered about some Glasgow companies when ordering morning rolls and
bacon etc. I was offered a bribe to put all my business their way. I was shocked even more when it was
disclosed that it was the common practice for the Glasgow quartermasters to ask for it. I told them in no
uncertain manner to discount it from our bill.
We held all the usual morning activities I had learned in the 18th; reveille, breakfast, tent inspection,
then games until lunch. Then every day we had an organised outing - Stonehaven has an open air heated
swimming pool with lifeguard in attendance so we went there a lot, even had torchlight midnight session
there.
On the Sunday morning we attended church in full dress. I had done the usual visit beforehand to
warn of our visit. With luck the Minister gave a sermon that kept the boys engrossed. But I was not prepared
for the hymn singing. Peter Gordon had told me once how he loved to sing but was tone deaf. How right he
24

was. At the first well known hymn he started off. I was not quite prepared for the noise that burst forth. I
stopped singing in amazement and so did most of the congregation looking round for the cause of the din.
Yes, Peter was not exaggerating.
We were invited by the town council to take part in a fancy dress parade. I thought we did rather well.
We went as a Chinese dragon (or is it a dog?) To make it we took all our latrine canvas, painted it with
distemper we bought. It was long enough to cover all our boys, each holding the side wall poles which we
practised going up and down in ripples., It was very effective and applauded and held its own against all the
floats in the procession.
We had a hike round the district with a packed picnic and one day climbed a hill. On the Friday night
we had a huge bonfire and having met an officer of the Girl Guides camp nearby invited them as guests. The
fire and roast potatoes were a huge success. Even the camp fire songs of each group went down well at 11
p.m. the girls' officer lined the girls up. There was no fraternisation much to the disappointment of our boys.
THE PANTO
With a company of 110 boys in the company and 100 in the Lifeboys (Junior section) we could think
big and so I as skipper decided to have a pantomime. This would be part of our activities. So, after an
officer's approval meeting, we announced it to the boys and asked for nominations for the various parts. But
no one wanted to be a girl, even though she was a princess. Slowly we got the parts filled. A volunteer,
McLardy, said he would do it, but withdrew two weeks before the big day. Under pressure and not nepotism
Alan, my son, took the part with a jet black wig. He looked real pretty, but I dared not tell him that. My
other son, George, who was in the Downfield dramatics, so was an obvious choice for Aladdin. No one
wanted to be “Stupid” so I volunteered for that part and I loved it as well as being producer. So the cast
practised each week while other company members painted backcloths from jute, supplied by a firm who
shall be nameless and others attended to lights and flash boxes and other props. We ordered costumes from
Mutrie who hired panto gear. To recover our costs we decided to run for two nights and everyone was happy
to do this. It was of course staged in the school hall. We had wisely enrolled the Janitor as an officer in the
company and he was very friendly to all our needs and requests. Here is the cast that finally put on the show
which, by the way, was a great success.
ALADDIN
A Pantomime in three acts
by
Officers and boys
of the
34th Company BB.
ALADDIN S/Sgt. George Duffus
PRINCESS JENIN Cpl. Alan Duffus
WIDOW TWANKEY W.O. David McDermott
HOO SIT(Widow's help) L/C ]an Petrie
ABANAZUR (Magician) Lt. Charles Baxter
ABDUL (Stupid Apprentice) Cpt. Harry Duffus
MUSTAPHA BYEH (Travelling Artist) L/Cpl. G. Rennit
SLAVE OF THE RING Pt. J. Downie
SLAVE OF THE LAMP Pt. J. Rodger
PRINCESS MAID L/C F. Bertie
THE SULTAN W.O. H. Small
THE COURT CHAMBERLAIN Pt. T. Adam
A DEMON also ECHO W.O. C. Baxter (jr)
MUSICIAN Pt. G.Reid
CHORUS S. McPake, W. Dryden, A. Petrie, J. Gaffney,
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R. Miller, J. Sutherland, J. Clark, S. Ledger.
PROMPTER Cpl. McLardy
LIGHTING Lt. Johnston, Sgt. Mill, Boys of the Company
HOUSE MANAGER Lt. D. McIntosh
PIANIST Miss Ann Baird
SCENES
ACT1 SCENE 1 AN EASTER BAZAAR
SCENE 2 WIDOW TWANKIE'S BACK YARD
ACT 2 SCENE 1 THE CAVE
SCENE 2 WIDOW TWANKIE'S LAUNDRY
ACT 3 SCENE 1 AN EASTERN GARDEN
SCENE 2 THE INTERI1OR OF THE SULTAN'S
PALACE
There are always things which happen in a panto that are unscheduled and we were no exception. For
instance, George as Aladdin, came on at one point with our best silver teapot which was the nearest we
could get to a magic lamp. There was a moment's pause while he said this is a magic lamp what shall I wish
with it. A wee voice from the audience said, “its only a teapot”. “Well, said George, ad-libbing, it's maybe a
teapot to you, but wait till you see what it does when I rub it”. Laughter. So he rubbed it. A flash box was set
off, but our electrician, young Baxter, had too much powder and the smoke that followed the flash filled the
hall. No one could see for a minute. Howls of laughter from the audience.
The same young Baxter who caused laughter when as a demon his trident fork got caught in the
backcloth of the cave and was nearly pulled down. The second night was perfect and not quite so funny.
I had a jute cut-out of Abanezar fifteen foot long painted in exactly the colour of clothes he was
wearing. As the stupid assistant in the laundry scene I made Abanezar fall into the bucket before the mangle
and then „accidently‟ put him through the mangle. The fifteen foot cut-out slowly came out of the wicked
magician - long and slow to the howls of appreciation of the kids in the audience while we pushed the basket
with the hidden magician off the stage.
The pianist was George's girlfriend, Ann, whom he later married.
CAMP IN IRELAND
We were now well settled down as a Company. We were bigger than the 6th in Lochee who were
always until now the largest in town. This year we were discussing where to go for camp. Now I had a few
connections in Belfast and the Captain of the Whiteinch Company, one Harry Besson, offered me the use of
his Company hut with ground around to pitch tents. He even offered us the use of his equipment so we didn't
have to carry ours all the way to Ireland. My wife, Lottie, brave soul, again volunteered to be our cook, but
no tent this time. She would get digs near at hand. Harry Besson, bless his soul, asked a couple who had just
lost a son who died on his voyage in the Merchant Navy to take Lottie as a guest. It would be good for them
he said. It did work well and we came so friendly with them they came to us on holiday every year thereafter
no matter where I was living.
Years later, looking back on my work as a B. B. Officer, I wondered how I had the nerve to take
nearly fifty boys by boat from Glasgow Broomielaw to Belfast, the responsibility of it all. The first incident
was on the crossing. A young officer, David McDermott, came to me and said, “Skipper, Matthews is in the
bar drinking beer”. Well, Matthews was only fifteen and looked younger, so off I went to find him and as
reported he was supping a full pint glass of beer and smoking a cigar.
On business, I had crossed to Belfast over twenty times so I knew we were approaching Ailsia Craig,
that huge rock of which curling stones are made. I said to Matthews “let's walk on deck and get the fresh
air”. I asked him “does your father let you drink beer?”. “Yes” he said to my astonishment. “And smoke
cigars?” Yes he said puffing heartily. Now I knew that after you pass Ailsia Craig the blat which was going
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up and down starts to sway sideways as well. Hurry up and finish your cigar and we'll go below again. He
puffed half heartedly and was looking decidedly green. A few moments later he was over the side, losing all
the beer and the snacks he had indulged in. McDermott, come back. “Take him down to his bunk. He will be
OK now”. It would be a long time before he would smoke and drink again.
We did not lose anyone on the voyage, thanks Lord and so we arrived and got on a waiting coach that
took us to the northern edge of Belfast. Our hosts greeted us and helped get us settled in tents and showed us
where they kept the rest of the gear. Also a tent filled with straw for the palliases. The hut was very large.
An ideal dining room which was bagged by the WO's for sleeping quarter. We could even use the Kirk
kitchen to cook the meals
There is a saying that you do not know a person till you live with them. So it was that our Warrant
Officer, David McDermott, turned out to be a solid sleeper-in. Nothing seemed to waken him. Not even the
bugle call of reveille played in the hut. I had the cure. As he had taken over the stretcher used for first aid as
his cot as usual set on two lemonade crates. I ordered two of the big lads to pick up the stretcher while
others put the crates in full view of the passing busses and traffic. Then his stretcher was replaced. Believe it
or not, despite the noise, he lay sound asleep until ten o'clock in the morning then he deigned to waken up.
Slowly he opened his eyes while all his mates looked on, He then saw people in a double-decker bus
pointing and laughing. Realising he had only on a kind of boxer shorts he grabbed the blanket round him
and rushed into the hut amidst applause from his pals and the younger boys who loved the joke. He never
slept in again that week.
Then, on Tuesday night of the first week I had a problem. I was wakened about two a.m. by one of the
officers reporting, “the boy Ireland is missing”. He was last seen getting up wearing pyjamas and putting on
a coat, went out and never came back. Like Corporal Jones in Dad's Army I kept saying to myself “don't
panic”. What I did say was, “get the officers and big lads up and meet in the hut”. This was done and we
organised parties to search. To the north was the zoo area. To the south was the beach and sea. Not far away
to the west the castle and to the east the town. The small parties went off in all four directions. Luckily the
crisis was over fairly quickly. He was found fast asleep in the straw tent lying on the surplus straw.
It transpired there had been too much high jinks in the tent at night and this poor wee lad had hardly
slept a wink. That night he was sleep walking, got up and dressed only in his coat, walked out and into the
straw tent. The parties returned and we all went back to bed for a few hours. Alas on his return our sleep
walkers mother never let him back to the BB.
VISIT TO CARRERA'S
One of our outings in Belfast was to take the party of boys to visit the Carrera's cigarette factory. I
was surprised as an old jute mill man that the tobacco leaves were fed up a feed sheet as jute was into a
carding machine as jute was, but the hackle pinned rollers perhaps a little smaller in length and diameter
doing exactly the same job, that is teasing the leaf or fibre into what we know as the content of a cigarette.
The main difference was in the delivery of the shag which was rolled and covered in cigarette paper and was
churned out in their thousands before being entered into their cigarette packets. The main name of the
cigarettes at that time was Black Cat.
On leaving the departments, we were all guided to the final place making snuff which is just tobacco
ground to a fine dust with various additives, e.g. menthol or mint etc.
Our guide apologised for having no snuff to try, but they had an empty barrel at the exit door where
we could just smell some snuff.
We were invited to take a big sniff into this empty barrel. The boys did - it was an Irish con. We got
just outside the door when everyone eyes awash and sneezing down the street, we realised the Irish had an
unusual sense of humour and tricked all there visitors this way.
THINGS WE DID
As well as visiting Carrera's cigarette factory where we will never forget the snuff and sneezes
thereafter, we tried to give the lads as much a flavour of Ireland as possible, so we visited Port Rush, the
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Antrim coast and the Giant's Causeway which, by the way, I found disappointing and our guide asked us to
use our imagination and envisage an organ gallery and other flights of fancy. If you pass over the Cleish
Hills in Fife you see a similar column of stone, not quite as much but the same. We visited the zoo. Port
Rush was a hit. Our seniors, when let loose on their own, seemed to get the holiday atmosphere and
chummed up with the local girls. Ah! to be young again.
We had one small calamity in the kitchen. My wife, the cook, on the very first morning was using the
largest frying pan in the world. It could fry over twenty eggs at one time, but she was a little late in adding
the oil and, crack, the pan broke. We looked for the rest of the holiday for a similar pan but it was never
found and we to own up to Harry Besson who agreed that two smaller replacements would do nicely.
On the Friday before our return to Scotland we decided to throw a party, a caleidh, to which all who
had helped in ay way to making our holiday so memorable, would be invited. Between us and friends there
were just over one hundred. Lottie, our cook, came up trumps which the boys helped with the butter
spreading and sandwiches she was busy baking like made. She made 150 cakes of one sort and 150 or
another and various flans with fruit filling. Our party event with a swing, even the guests sang and recited.
Our boys too. Even I, the skipper, did a party trick or two with origami. It was a memorable evening. A
wonderful finish to our holiday.
FAREWELL TO BELFAST
We coached to the dock where the Belfast Ferry awaited. The scene was like the mini departure of the
Titanic all the guests from the night before, friends and new found girlfriends were all there as the boys went
up the gang plank there were lots of tears and not all from the girls, but at last we glided off from the
dockside and the waving and shouting of farewells slowly lessened. About half an hour later a Warrant
Officer came to me and said you had better come and see “X”. I had better be kind and not tell his name. He
is in his bunk and sobbing his heart out. “I didn't want to leave her skipper, I really loved her. Can I go
back?” “I'm afraid the boat won't turn about now”. “Well, promise, skipper, we'll go back next year”. I don't
often tell wee white lies, anyway maybe we would, so I said yes. I have often heard the words love sick but
here it was before my very eyes and so we sailed on.
I am sure you would like to hear the result of his romance. Well, that was July, and we enrolled for the
new season always in the first week in September. “X” was there signing on for another year. “How's the
romance going?” I asked. Oh, that's old hat I have a new one now and she lives in the same street. How
fickle can love be?
AN UNUSUAL CLASS
We met on a Friday night. The usual one for B. B's. all over Britain and of course we ran a bible class.
The latter was based on courses that ran for the whole session. One book I particularly like was by Willie
Barclay and the boys appreciated his down to earth approach to all his subjects. Friday nights we ran on
traditional lines, we fell in by squads, roll call, then assembled as a Company with the tallest on the right
shortest on the left. We numbered and became a Company ready for drill. After drill there was PT and that
took up half the evening. We fell out for classes having over a hundred boys to fit in for badge work we
needed a lot of rooms and were lucky to have the full use of all the school and its classrooms.
Now, we did not want to be the biggest company in Dundee but wanted to be the best, so wanted to
keep the biggest boys interest as long as possible for in my opinion they are the most difficult to retain. A
young man's fancy turns to love it is said which may be one of the reasons for the falling away, so we had to
come up with some really interesting classes for the seniors, so we had boxing bouts. We purchased fencing
equipment, i.e. the face masks and foils. This was popular and some became quite efficient. Then I came up
with the best idea so far. My son Alan was sixteen and had started tinkering with motor cycles. He later
became the Scottish champion in various classes of motor cycle - so perhaps all boys love bikes. I got Alan
to buy for the Company an old banger of a motor bike. We were inundated for this class.
With Alan to guide them we dismantled that bike, reassembled it and made it rev up. The boys
involved were allowed to drive it round the playground before a new class was started all over again. I can't
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ever think of a Company that tried such a class. And finally we had a very good football team and this
helped to keep the Company to the fore in B. B. circles.
YOUNG OFFICER’S REQUEST.
After we were an up and coming Company with great potential an officers meeting brought up a
request from the young WO's and staff sergeants. Could they have a regular dance in the new church hall
recently opened on a Saturday? They were so enthusiastic that it would be good for the senior boys and the
community at large although the girls organisations were not as strong as we were, I was apprehensive I was
out voted and out manoeuvred. So it went ahead on the promise that a senior officer would be in overall
charge each Saturday.
All appeared to go well till the Minister approached me. He was getting complaints of too much noise
on a Saturday night from members of his congregation. Would I look into it? I said, of course and the next
Saturday I drove over to the hall. As I approached along the road leading to the church and hall I asked
myself, what's that awful din? My car windows seemed to be going out and in. I stopped the car over a
hundred yards away. I have never heard such music. I do not know how many amplifiers were in used but
even the hall walls were „dirling‟. As the BBC would say the complaint was justified. I stopped the dances
after that night.
LOOKING BACK
Looking back over the many years that I worked with boys I am proud to say I never had a single boy
who was in trouble with the police or social workers. The latter was just coming into being as I was giving
up. Was I just lucky? I do not think so. Boys respond to a bit of discipline and common sense, and if you
add to that a sense of esprit de corps you will find that they will not let you or the Company down.
If you look at the various changes that have taken place since we entered the EU we may find out
why.
1. Parents are not allowed to punish their children.
2. School teachers and masters likewise are not allowed to use the belt or strap even for the most
awful abuse of them.
3. The police who once gave the bad boy a clip on the ear if he got really out of hand would now be
accused of assault. In other words the naughty and really bad ones have a charter to do as they like and the
younger ones have always copied the big boys.
Drugs were unknown in my time but I see and read of a road to hell that many youngsters are taking.
Unless the pendulum swings back at least part way the so called do-gooders will win the day.
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