No Place for the Faint Hearted!!

Cammel Laird shipyard was founded in 1828 by William Laird and his son John who later merged with Cammell and Co. (Charles Thomas and Henry Johnson) in 1903. Between 1829 and 1948 over 1,000 ships and other vessells were launched into the River Mersey from the slipways of Cammel Laird. Some famous ships include the Fullager (1929) the Mauretania (1939) and HMS Ark Royal (1937)

My father worked at Cammell Laird shipyard from 1948 until 1989.

Here are some of his memories of his time there.

 

One Minute Late and you're sent home

1948 was the year I started my apprenticeship with Cammell Laird shipyard. A dungeon for the dead. Infested with creeps, crawlers, and "yesmen" : The home of con-men, jailbirds, and snapheads. It's a black hole of despair, that's left its mark on the face of its underpaid workers, walking under the high cranes, bent bodies coughing and spitting, shuffle aboard the steel ships, looming in the fog like ghosts

Grubby managers stand together like penguins in grey coats, policing the beleaguered. No turning back, no smoking, keep moving. Antiquated time clocks ring out their dull tune. Sour face workmen search the racks for their elusive time cards. A bemused timekeeper looks on as the last buzzer wails into the twilight.

One minute late and you're sent home.

The gangways creak under the weight of the work force, no lights, no heating, no feeling, just a cold east wind to cheer us on. Sparks fall from the welder's ark onto the silver worn deck. Below, the riveters hammer rages against an empty hull.

Rickety ladders protrude from open hatches. Blue smoke rises up from the open engine room. Asbestos off cuts litter the deck, from the laggers working on the overhead steam pipes, white dust covers man and machinery alike. No head protection, no masks, no overalls. What clothes you work in, you go home in. The high crane lowers its unsafe load to the rigger standing in the bilges below, as dark figures scurry for a safer place to stand. Painters apply their paint to anything that does not move. Dim yellow lights hang in space for no reason, water runs from a neglected hose.I've arrived in this God forsaken hole, at the age of sixteen. Immature, confused and saddened by the onslaught of foul language about me.

One Pound Two Shillings and Six pence for a week's work

  Darts were the main lunch time game, the workmen formed teams to play each other, and at the end of each season the best team won a silver cup, with a second team winning a silver shield.

The wages were very low, and at sixteen I received one pound two shillings and six pence for a week's work

Soggy chips, rubber friend eggs, a cods head and a bowl of curry!!

 

The shipyard canteen had wooden benches to eat your meals off, and the pig swill they served was what you'd expect from a down town doss house. Warm soggy chips with rubber fried eggs, a cods head and a bowl of curry, or fried bread in dripping was about as tasty as it got. As for myself, I would sit on an old tool box in some deserted workshop and eat my butties.

Sometimes a rat would get into my bag, when that happens I go to the canteen for a plate of chips. There was no cutlery, you brought your own or used your fingers. Mind you, the workers pinched everything that wasn't stuck down. There was a stigma about Cammell Laird - you felt ashamed to tell people you worked there.

 

Silver service - It all comes with the bowler hat!

  Managers had round tables with white tablecloths and waitress service. They had silver cutlery, with teacups and saucers and a choice of menu. It all comes with the bowler hat. But what I see of it, once you become a manager you lose your brains. Where else would you see a manager raise a stick to beat a man for being off his job? The way I see it, was the Managers were meant to be respected, but they were despised.

Am I insane? Are the borders of my ignorance so low as to let strangers manipulate my every moment? Is the youth today the awakened youth I wanted to be? Would the youth of today accept these conditions, and then at the end of the week give all their wages over to support the family? This was how it was in 1948

 

I thought you'd gone for the horse!

  Wednesday 28 July 1948

Billy's dirty Mac hung open from the top collar button matching the grime around him, his woollen gloves protruded from the sleeves. "Come on lad follow me" I remember thinking I'd rather not. He took me around the back of a dilapidated work shop, and pointed to a large tipped up hand cart with the shafts well above my head. "Grab that" he said and walked away.

With some struggle I managed to pull down the shafts, even then it was too heavy for me to handle. After awhile he came back and asked me what I was waiting for. I said "I thought you'd gone for the horse"

It was over a 20 metre drop and I froze with fear. At this moment, someone working above us slipped and dropped a large heavy bag of steel rivets, catching Billy across the arms and chest, sending him and two other men off the ladder into the engine room 20 metres below.

The three bodies lay motionless on the floor. Dark figures ran across the deck plates. Someone called for an ambulance. I could feel my legs trembling. A man below screamed at me to get an ambulance. I could not move. People scurried about below to tend to the wounded. Eventually the ambulance came. I did not see Billy or the other two unfortunate men again.