Earby Chronicles Edition 69 SUMMER 2013 SOCIETY AIMS: to raise awareness, EARBY MAY DAYS IN THE 1950s foster an interest Researched from programmes lodged in the EDLHS Archive and facilitate by Stephanie Carter£1.50 research into the heritage of Earby & district including Thornton in Craven, Sough, Kelbrook, Harden, Hague and Salterforth. OFFICIALS Chairman & NRCC Rep. : Bob Abel phone 01282 843850 Vice Chairman & Edi- tor of Chronicles: Stephanie Carter Phone 01756 794099 Secretary : Margaret Brown phone 01282 843932 Throughout the 1950s the Earby & District Social & Festival Com- mittee organised some superb May Day celebrations, when the streets Treasurer & Archi- and Recreation Ground were thronged with people from Earby and vist : Wendy Faulkner neighbouring towns and villages. There were colourful souvenir pro- phone 01282 863160 grammes, the spectacle of the procession through the town, activities on Programme Secretary the field and the annual highlight of crowning the May Queens: Vacant Marjorie Horsfield (1951), Mary Ward (1952), Catherine Lancaster (1953), Judith Dingley (1954), Marlene Nutter (1955), Rita Collins (1956), Merle Archivist: Margaret Greenwood Griffiths (1957), Sylvia Evans (1958) and Gloria Halstead (1959). phone 01282 843394 1951 was Festival of Britain Year. On 26 th May all the “walking Web Site / IT Vacant classes” assembled in Linden Road for judging and there was a competi- tive spirit amongst the participants in the variety of classes, which in- Committee: Trevor Tattersall cluded: Mary Corteen Children – best decorated doll’s pram, cycle, pedal car; best fancy dress – Colin Dalby Ken Ranson Website Recent talks & features www.earbyhistory.co. uk Page 3 Tuday I go on Hollyday, Ken Ranson Page 8 Short History of Salterforth Inghamite Chapel Part 2, Colin Dalby £2.50 Page 10 Bus route Barnoldswick to Skipton...Winter of 1962-63 Malcolm Jarvis Members of 1 Society free Earby Chronicles nursery rhyme or fairy story; best representation of children from other lands; best repre- sentation of safety first; child with domestic pet; best decorated maypole etc. Adults – best fancy dress; best female impersonation; best decorated cycle; best comical pair; best national costume etc. All vehicles taking part, including tableaux, assembled in Main Street Kelbrook for judging, prior to proceeding to Earby Station, where the full procession, headed by mar- shalls, Earby Prize Brass Band and the Retiring Queen and her retinue, moved off along Colne Road, Skipton Road, School Lane, Water Street, Riley Street, Green End Road, New Road, Victoria Road, Albion Road to the recreation ground. And what a spectacle these tableaux made! Richard 1 and the Crusaders Kelbrook Infants and Junior School Old Gypsy Encampment Riley Street Methodist Sunday School Courtesy on the Road Earby Road Safety Club Tableau Springfield Infants School Trade with the Phoenicians Earby New Road Junior School Tableau George Street Methodist Church Old English Garden Earby Allotment Holders Association Pre factory Spinning & Weaving Earby Modern School Tableau Kelbrook Church 1950 Rose Queen Riley Street Methodist Church Tableau Earby Parish Church Tableau Kelbrook Young Farmers Club Tableau Earby Baptist Church The Accrington St. John Ambulance pipe band preceded the May Queen elect and her retinue, followed by a large number of trade exhibits and turnouts. Above left to right : Marjorie Horsfield (1951), Mary Ward (1952), Catherine Lancaster (1953), Judith Dingley (1954), Marlene Nuttall (1955) Below left to right : Rita Collins (1956), Merle Griffiths (1957), Sylvia Evans (1958), Gloria Hal- stead (1959) On the field, following the crowning ceremony, there was maypole dancing and a display of piping, marching and dancing by the Accrington Pipe Band. The day finished with a whist drive and ball in the Albion Hall, with dancing to the Regal Dance Band. 2 Earby Chronicles How the people of Earby joined in the fun of those May Days of long ago! Processions were long and varied and new novelties were introduced on the field. 1953 was Coronation Year, when Catherine Lancaster was crowned on 30 th May, with the celebrations continuing for a week. These included an open air dance, church services, children’s sports and tea, aged people’s tea and concert, cricket match, fancy dress ball, a presentation of Blithe Spirit, and a monster whist drive and presentation ball in the Albion Hall with the Skyliners Band. Miss Millicent Turner wrote the introductory remarks in the 1954 programme on the theme the Merry Month of May, and she urged people to enjoy the simple pleasures of life and forget cares and worries. A tug-of-war competition was inaugurated, with teams from George Prestons, Rolls Royce and Carlsons taking on the Liverpool Police and a team from Kellogs Manchester. The crowds were also entertained by a canine troupe of alsations. Maypole dancing, the pipe band and tug-of-war were the simple pleasures which be- came regular features of the May Day celebrations. The Grand Challenge Cup for tug-of- War was open to all mills, workshops and other organisations within a ten mile radius of Earby and was very popular. In 1957 the Columbines, Earby’s Morris Dancing Troupe were a feature of the annual highlight, as was the great balloon race. The day always concluded at the Albion Hall with a whist drive and grand ball. TUDAY I GO ON HOLLYDAY by Ken Ranson The excitement grew and grew, as day by day the days were ticked-off on the calen- dar, until the morning arrived when I woke up, jumped out of bed and dashed to the calen- dar, and there it was, written in my eight-year-old’s writing in very large capital letters "TUDAY I GO ON HOLLYDAY." Mum and dad were woken up, and younger brother, not yet four, was prodded into life (an event that, fifty-seven years later, he still reminds me of). And so the day began of the most exciting week of a young lad's life. For year after year holidays meant a week in North Wales in a wooden bungalow, on a holiday site a stone's throw away from the sea, beyond the most wonderful sand dunes, accompanied by grandma and granddad (whom I think paid for it). The large sturdy suitcase packed, dad would check his wallet (once again) to ensure that the large white, five-pound note was still there that had taken all year to save up and the short walk from the estate where I lived (known affectionately as The Ranch) to the rail- way station, was made. I stood on the platform as near to the edge as I dare (or my mum would let me), neck craning, watching for the train to appear in the distance. And there it was! Smoke billowing into the sky, the clickety-click sound of the wheels on the track and the majestic beast ground slowly to a halt in front of me. My heart thumping I climbed the steep step into the train, a posh train, it had a corridor and a toilet! The suitcase was put, with a certain amount of struggling, onto the luggage rack and all were seated, me next to the window, so I could look out and devour every minute of the trip, and my brother (already asleep) on my mum's lap. The guard waved his green flag, blew his whistle and the train, with a great deal of 3 Earby Chronicles hissing of steam and blowing of whistle, slowly left the station but within minutes was going at full speed. Five minutes into the journey, under the pretence of wanting a wee, I went ex- ploring. At each end of every carriage was a door and the window could be let down with a leather strap, this was duly done and the exhilaration of sticking my head out and letting the steam from the engine flow across my face told me that my holiday had started. It wasn't until many years later, as an adult, that I discovered how long the journey took, for the moment I fell asleep was the same instance that my mum shook me awake saying "we're here," and mysteriously my grandma and granddad were now sitting across from me. With dad carrying the large suitcase and mum carrying my brother and gripping my hand tightly, a slow progress through the thronged station was made until, finally, we all stood slightly bewildered outside the railway station. "Taxi!" shouted dad and within minutes we were on our way to our final destination, "hour hollyday." After what seemed an eternity the taxi pulled off the main road, drove along a small lane, over a bridge across the railway line (I was asleep when the train went under this bridge) and there, stretching for miles, were the most amazing sand dunes, almost desert- like, they seemed to carry on forever. The taxi slowly drove along a rough rutted track which ran parallel with the dunes, (alongside of which were dozens of caravans, chalets, converted railway carriages etc) until it stopped outside a large green wooden bungalow, which was to be my home for the next week. Our accommodation was a wooden bungalow which, judging by the other ones around, it was quite posh. A short distance from it was a little wooden shed, which, to my amusement, was the toilet, a chemical toi- let, which at varying periods of time was carried by two adults (names drawn out of a hat) as far away from the bungalow as possible, a large hole dug (hopefully not in the same place as last weeks) and the contents dis- posed of. At all the crossroads of the tracks throughout the site was a water stand-pipe. Granddad used to take me to help him fill and carry a bucket of water.