River of Memories - John Tobin
I was born in 1938 and have always lived in Newport. As a child I lived with my parents and brothers, Terry and Michael in our home at Windsor Road in Beechwood. Crossing the River Usk to the other side of Newport played a part in my childhood fascination with cinema and theatre, my entrance into the world of work and my love of drawing.
When we were children, our mam used to take my brother, Michael and myself on paddle steamer trips on the river. Perhaps the Glen Usk but there were other paddle boats. I don't think it was The Waverley. I loved it. We went to Penarth and over to Weston-super-Mare. On other trips we would sometimes go to Ilfracombe. I remember Dad taking us down to the engine room, watching these enormous levers rotating up and down, keeping the paddles turning and the smell of hot oil down there. Beautiful. And back on deck, chucking crusts of bread to the seagulls. Great memories.
When the war was on, my mother used to take us over Newport Bridge on the bus of course and then on another one that stopped outside Saint Woolos Cemetery where her mother, our grandmother used to live in Penllyn Avenue, the road opposite the entrance to the cemetery.
My interest in films started in childhood when I regularly attended the cinemas around The Usk. We would go to all the cinemas when we were young lads of seven or eight years of age. It was mostly in the Maindee Cinema, that's where we saw Roy Rogers for the first time and his horse Trigger but we crossed the river to the others. Of course, we've grown up a bit since then but I'm still a sucker for Westerns.
I honestly think it was because of the times. It was a black and white world in those days and Westerns, musicals and comedy were an escape. We would go camping, four or five lads with tents that were falling apart, out in the wilds of Newbridge on Usk! That was 'Injun Country'. We got there on our bikes – they were falling apart as well! We would camp down by the river and climb the trees. We had ropes dropped just above the water and would swing out over the river then let go. Mind you, our ropes were really washing line ropes so didn't last long. Good old days.
We crossed the river to see 'The Wizard of Oz' at The Olympia in Skinner Street in the forties. Our cousin who was a bit older than us took us there. The film started in black and white and when Dorothy landed in Oz it turned into Technicolor. That movie frightened me to death! I was hiding behind the seat in front of me. I think our Michael was fast asleep. Must have been bored!
Not forgetting the old Lyceum Theatre in Bridge Street, I remember we watched a few pantomimes in there and films. I remember one Robert Mitchum film, I'm not sure what it was called, but it was an 'X' film and you couldn't watch unless you were accompanied by an adult. We had to ask grown ups, “could you take us in please?”. Imagine that today.
I will always remember the time I went with my friend, Tony to the Olympia to see a picture. We were only nippers and the trouble was it was an 'A' picture, 'Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein' I think. Nobody would take us in so we plucked up the courage to go to the box office by ourselves. The two of us were standing in the queue and when we got to the box office I stood on my toes and he crouched down. “One adult please and one for the boy” - and we got in!
I started work when I was fifteen. I would cross the river going to work at half past five in the morning. My first working day began on my bike following our dad down to the docks. When we got there he said to me, “John, see that bloke there? You're working with him”. Joe Holiday his name was. “Joe,” our dad said to him, “if he gives you any cheek give him a clip!”. I became a steam crane boy. My first day in work!
One day I was standing on the side of the docks looking up to see which crane my father was driving. I saw him and he shouted, “Come up!” so I got to the bottom of the crane and started climbing the ladder. Remember I was only fifteen years old. I started climbing a hell of a way and finally got to the top. He stopped the crane, looked down to me and shouted, “I'll swizzle 'round so when the ladder meets your ladder, get on it”. So there I am on top of this ladder, petrified and he swizzled around. I grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder and started climbing again up to the cab but what I didn't know was that he was going to swizzle around again! There I was still climbing up the ladder which was about eighty feet above the water. I got to his cab and he said, “Ah, you made it, my boy. Well done”. Thanks dad!
A story my big brother, Terry told me about our dad when they were working on the docks was that he saw Dad lower the crane jib out across the water and then came out of the cab with his swimming trunks on! Terry said, “I couldn't believe it, he clambered up on to the jib, walked out to the end of it and dived off!” Now we're talking about forty to fifty feet into the water. When our Terry told me, I couldn't believe it either!
Talking of the bridges across the river, I wasn't the first person to cross George Street Bridge when it first opened in 1964 but I might have been the first to cross it in a bubble car! I had put my motorbike in part exchange for this lovely little bubble car a couple of weeks before the bridge was opened. I was working in Whiteheads steelworks on six till two shift and I was early that morning because of the bridge. I normally would have had to go over Newport Bridge, Kingsway and Cardiff Road so I was early for once. Hooray!
In the sixties I went to art classes at the Technical College but only in the evenings because I was working in Whiteheads steelworks. It was only every three weeks because of different shifts. I started doing my own thing which is drawing portraits. The other students did what they were told to do. I used to get so wrapped up in what I was doing but one evening I sensed it was very quiet. I stopped, looked around and they were all sitting behind me watching what I was doing!
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| Walter Matthau |
Burt Lancaster
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| Glenn Ford |
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| Lee Marvin |
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