I like to look at this website in the same way as I look at our own CSC here in Stoke. a bunch of people from varying backgrounds, of varying ages with one thing in common.
Celtic.
Like every good CSC, this site has its senior memeber, who tells a great story……
Tom Campbell
Old farts wander a bit in their dotage, and old writers recall past anecdotes; so, bear with me as I indulge myself with anecdotage.
My dad, a very quiet man, used to take me to Celtic Park every other Saturday and, almost invariably, we were accompanied by my cousin, another Tommy, who lived at the far end of our street in Cardonald. The ritual was unvarying: we would walk down Ladykirk Drive, and reach Tommy’s house; a brief nod from my dad and Tommy was out the door like a shot … Nothing needed to be said; Tommy was included, his tram-fare (about two-pence) and his Boys’ Gate (about seven pence) and the return tram-fare would be taken care of. As always, we went in at the Rangers’ End and at half-time – probably to the chagrin of my dad – we would make our way through the Jungle to the Celtic End. I seem to remember there were three well-defined ‘trails’ through it that opened up at half-time. Remember that scene in ‘Jurassic Park’ (when the raptors raced, unseen by their victims, through the long grass towards them? Well, that was what hundreds of wee boys did in the 1950s, as they burrowed their way through to the Celtic End.
But this other story, and I’ve been assured of its truth, took place some years later.
Tommy got married to Nan, and managed to find a flat in Govan, a second-floor flat on Harmony Row. Tommy was still a fanatical Celt but Nan was a bit more cautious about things, especially living in Govan and not too far from Ibrox Park. Their neighbours were friendly and a week or so after moving in, Nan got a chap on the door from Mrs Watters downstairs, and invited her in. It was a pleasant enough visit, Mrs Watters a decent-enough Glasgow wifie, but eventually she got round to the point of the visit:
“I hope you don’t think I’m nosey, but I notice you go to the chapel on Sundays. That’s fine with me, hen, but I have to tell you about my man, William…”
Nan nodded wearily, but wee Mrs Watters surprised her.
“He’s a real fanatic about Rangers, and he he works at Fairfields yard. He’s no a bad wee man but I need to tell you about Friday nights. That’s when he gets paid, and he likes to have a couple of pints on the way home…”
Mrs Watters shook her head, and continued, “He’s never had a head fror the drink, and he gets tipsy awful easy. When he gets in the close, and you know how there’s an echo there, he likes to sing. I think he fancies himself as another Mario Lanza sometimes …”
Another sigh from Mrs Watters, an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, and she went on, “He likes to sing his Rangers’ songs — ‘Follow, follow …’ and even ‘The Sash’. You can hear him for miles with the echo in the close.”
Mrs Watters at last reached the point: “He’s no’ a bad wee man, he wouldnae harm a fly and he doesn’t mean any harm … and he doesn’t do this to offend you in any way. I let him sing his daft wee songs for a couple of minutes, then I open the door, pull him in, give him his tea, and shove him into bed. I assure you he’s not trying to offend you, or trying to make you feel unwelcome…”
***
A couple of months later, in November when the dark came in early, Nan was busy getting Tommy’s tea ready but she was a bit uneasy. Several times she had had the feeling that she was being watched through the kitchen window by somebody in the back-court. At last she got a couple of glimpses of somebody lurking on the top of the air-raid shelters, somebody too big to be a wee boy.
Tommy eventually came in from work, and Nan told him about her suspicions (but without making a scene or looking out the window). Tommy was equal casual, at least on the surface: “A Peepin’ Tom, eh? Well, I’ll fix him.”
And, as casually as possible, without a glance at the window, he wandered towards the kitchen door, shutting it behind him. In those days, coal was delivered into the house and the coal-cellar was located in the lobby. Tommy rummaged in it for the axe, used to break up larger lumps of coal, found it, and started to race down the stairs …
It was a Friday night …
and William Watters had reached the bottom of the stairs, just outside his door. He halted, adjusted himself and was preparing to start his weekly concert; Tommy and Nan both agree it was ‘The Sash’, but one line into his anthem Willie looked up to Tommy McGeachen (a Catholic who went to chapel in Govan, a Celtic supporter, a red-headed Irishman (and probably a Fenian), racing down the stairs towards him, fire in his eyes and an axe in his hand…
Slowly he sank to his knees, took off his bunnet, bowed his head … and awaited his fate. Terror had loosened his tongue too: “Thomas, I’ve said it before – and I’ll say it again: I’ve never said a bad word about the Pope, a good man, and by all accounts a fine Italian gentleman…”
Tommy, however, raced past him, and out the back of the close. He was just too late; the Peeping Tom, alerted by the commotion, had scampered away … and so Tommy returned, a shade disappointed, to see a pathetic sight: wee William Watters still knelt there, bare-head bowed, eyes shut and mumbling largely to himself, Mrs Watters stood at the door of her flat, shaking her head, Nan at the top of the stairs, worrying about Tommy’s pursuit of the intruder, and a bit concerned about Mr Watters’ embarrassment …
The sequel? Well, there were no more Peeping Tom incidents, and wee William Watters retired from singing in his close on a Friday night. Peace reigned in Harmony Row.
Great read Tom!
Extra poignant to me as I was also one of those wee boys who – once I was too big for a lift – started off going in the Boys Gate (at the Rangers End) then walking through to The Jungle or The Celtic End (depending on where my pals where).
Also, having also lived in both Govan & Cardonald, the street names you mention are also very familiar ….
I started off life in Golspie Street – just round the corner from Harmony Row. Lots of the tenements had air-raid shelters round the back, but that’s the first time I’ve thought about them for decades. I also had family working in Fairfields. Later on – after a detour or two – my family lived for a wee while in the Moss Heights (when they used to be respectable 🙂 and my Maw ended up on Carsaig Drive in Craigton – just a stones throw from Mordor (on a good day, with the wind behind), so I know also know the Cardonald area quite well.
Anwyay, just wanted to say THANKS! for bringing the memories flooding back!
Tom Campbell, many thanks from an old Fenian. It did cheer me up!
Tom,
What a fantastic story and great writing! It captures the atmosphere in many parts of Glasgow from a bye gone age….the age of my childhood!
The close, the attitudes, the honesty…..I recognise them all. Thank you for letting me live them again.
Rebus
Thats jusr what Britains got Talent needs..”A Govan Troupe!”
Thanks Tom..you now you have me thinking back to early days in Greenfield St and St Constantines.
Great wee story Tom. Like Desimond it reminded me of my formative years in sunny Govan. Another St. Constantine’s boy from Elderpark St.
Fair cheered me up after the debacle of Tuesday night.
All the best and good health to you Tom.
Ha ha,I too am from Govan & actually had asimilar experience.
Just 1 thing I’m no graspin.How can you have a peepin tom lookin through your kitchen windae in a 2nd floor tenement.
My uncle Frank spotted a peepin tom watchin me & the wife in the bath but we were on the ground floor.
Needless to say he went hame wi a sair face that night.
I think that somebody standing on the roof of one of those old air-raid shelters would be level with a second-floor window.
… Absolutely. I was only wee then, but just about level with the second floor windae sounds about right!
Takes me back to growing up in Govan,Lettoch St. Our parish was St. Saviours. That was three catholic parishes in Govan yet there seems to be a misconception that Tims were thin on the ground. Far from it.
Very true ST.I lived in Roseneath St.I fell into St.Anthony’s every day as the gate was right across the street before we moved up to Pollok when I was 12 in 1960.
When I got married I bought a flat at No1 Uist St.on the corner of Langlands Rd.That’s where we had the peeping tom experience.
Said Uncle Frank started taking me to Celtic Park in 1953b when I was 4.Flung over the turnstile lol
St Anthony’s was my first school before we moved. I was brought up in the Pawn Close on Golspie Street.- My maw was one of the 3 Doyle sisters who lived there when they got married. BTW Speaking of St Anthony’s – I still think back to my early years watching the Ants v the Bens – A rivalry that was every bit as strong as the “Old Firm”.
Govan was a great place to be brought up… (Nostalgia’s not like it used to be 🙂 .. The Govan Fair, the Govan Ferry… . The Steamie & The swimming .. Elder Park… Magical memories. I’m still proud to be a Govanite.
Brilliant story Tommy..We had a Wee guy up beside us who every Friday nite came up the road belting it out until one nite he seen me with Green & White football socks on..Well I was all the Fenian bs under the sun..Well my big Irish Ma heard him and went to his door with the sleeves rolled up as my da was still at work..She had him bawling his eyes out and his missus battering lumps out of him…Ye they were the days rite enuf..
Great story Tom! Cheered me up no end.
I reckon u should have hit him with the axe anyway u would have been doin his Missus a good deed
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3GkoWKO56A
lest we forget
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N7bXVtaKw4
chris sutton “intenionally” getting sent off (my arse)
( ahthink you’ve got the wrong diary Freddy )
Cheers Tom, brought back few memories.
HAIL HAIL N aw that !
that goal was superb!
A great story Tom.brings back a lot of memories.i was born at the sufferin general in 44.we lived in crossloan place round the corner from harhill st.steamie and the swings.we left there when I was four and got a new council house in pollok.my earliest memories are of sitting at the closemouth and the coal mans horse dragging the cart onto the pavement to eat grass that grew in the narrow strip that passed for a garden in front of lowdoon.the air raid shelters were another memory because they stank to high heaven.the local lads that hung around them were called ‘the shitey shelter boys’.i went to high school in cardonald at Lourdes sen sec and left at 15 in dec59.my uncle wullie and uncle dan both had fruit shops on langlands road.going to govan cross on a Saturday to buy a bag of ‘wulks’ or clappy dos was another highlight.when I got married we bought a two room and kitchen in burghead drive then moved to uist St opposite “I think the orange hall’ not sure it was 46 years ago.from there we emigrated to oz and never regretted a minute of it.the best country in the world.HH
John I knew your family.
Did they not also have a fruit shop
at Shieldhall road shops?
My grannie used to live at 245 Shieldhall road
& I’m sure she was related to the Mc Cloys.
my Mum was Betty Brown & her Mum & Dad were Elizabeth & John Brown who had a real hard man rep aboot Gove.
So did his 4 sons John Frank David & Edward who all had taxis at Govan cross & nobody messed wi them.
Mum’s sister was Hanaah Brown & lived in Crossloan Road when she got married to Jimmy Mc Greevy
I went to St Gerard’s with a boy called McCloy (who read comics at the back of the class, and who couldn’t wait to leave school to work in a fruit-‘n-vegetable shop).
My epistle has gone awol Ralph can you organise a search party it took me twenty minutes to reminisce it.hh
The Govan Team might still recognise a few places in these photos. Includes quite a few of the streets mentioned above. The 2nd link also includes photos of some air-raid shelters.
NOW: These ones are quite recent …
http://urbanglasgow.co.uk/archive/govan__o_t__t_1844.html
THEN: Some fantastic old photos among these:-
http://mygovan.boardhost.com/viewtopic.php?id=99
That forum is clearly from a Hun (Hill Trust School) who insisted on finishing with a photo of the dreaded Benburb – but it does contain some fantastic stuff.
Ha,that pic of Uist St/Crossloan Rd,I’m sure that Latina’s was a chip shop in the 50’s.
My Mum’s sister Hanaah lived in the flat right above it on the corner.Was in it loads of times as a wee bhoy.
Mum & Dad were married in St.Constantine’s just at the left of the pic in 1948.
Brian we had rellies named brown but I never knew them so can’t help you there. My older brother frank might be able to.he lives in w.a.i,ll give him a ring and let you know.iworked in fairfields for three years as an apprentice mechanical fitter but got the arse for jumpln the ‘wa’.what a prick of a place ,hoachin wi huns.hated every minute of it.i worked at the caterpillar for three and a half years before emigrating.what a great job that was.the only drawback was bussing it from govan. I notice the predictive text cutting in on govan.there,s a town in Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory called Gove.i just talked to my brother and he says my dads sister rose married an Eddie brown who had a fruit shop in linthouse and one in drummoyne with other rellies who became bookies.i hope this helps.
I remember now John,you’ve jolted my memory.
Eddie Brown was my Mum’s uncle & he did indeed have the fruiterers at Shieldhall Road shops.
I used to get the No 4 bus from Langlands Rd.nearly every day to my Grannie’s & invariably got sent to Eddies shop for spuds etc.
Was also in your family’s shop a lot in Langland’s Rd.next to Woolworths if I remember right.
I served my apprenticeship as a fitter in Babcocks in Renfrew,another wee hun hole.I was born in 49
You can just picture it in your head! Priceless.
Thanks.
I am from Tillicoultry but this was so well written by a fellow Tim, I felt as If I could have been there. Well done sir
Stayed in 99 Elderpark st and went to st.Constantine s between 56 to 62 many happy memories before moving to Kightswood broke my heart to leave Govan