I have some recollections of my earlier life, that is up to eighteen years of age. Some of those years after a span of some seventy are vague, but most stand out in vivid memory.

I was born in Pontefract Workhouse. My mother and I were there because she had been turned out of her home (because of her pregnancy out of wedlock). It was a stigma that was to haunt me for many years - in 1922 it was a sin. Being asked over succeeding years, "Where is your dad"? I could not tell them. I did not know. It was hard for me to understand as a child and later at school when the slurs started, the hurt was hard to bear. Children can be very cruel.

My heartfelt pain was when joining the army in 1940. Standing in front of the recruiting officer, being asked my name, fathers name, mothers maiden name and being told by that unfeeling officer and gentleman that my name is not the same as mothers maiden name. I learnt very quickly after that and told everyone later that dad was dead. I never asked mother any questions as I was afraid of the answers.

After my birth, mother was sent out to work. I was placed in the care of ‘Carlton Cottage Homes’. When old enough to take notice of my home (and it was home to me) I began to live the life of an orphan.

I remember there were three houses, each run by a lady whom we all called ‘Mother’. The bedrooms were large, each with about ten children, boys and girls. The ‘Mother’ plus a daily help saw to our everyday needs. Food was very plain but plentiful; it must have been very sustaining as we were all very robust and active.

Tea everyday was bread and jam or bread and thick black treacle, dinner mainly stew, breakfast always porridge, drinks, water, no tea. We were well fed, some children out in the wider world would have been glad of our fare, as I was to find out later.

Summer days were a treat - we had our teas on a sheet spread on the lawn, picnic style. Some days a bun or a scone would be included, these occasions were happy ones for us children. We were at all times ruled with a rod of iron, rules were there to be obeyed or else. The else was no jam or treacle at teatime and no cinema. Overall we children were well behaved, the alternatives were dire. The punishment for being naughty was inflicted on the whole house, so he or she was not very popular with the rest of the children.

School was at St. Michael’s, Carlton. The local children looked down on us, there was no fraternisation of any sort. In our dress we stood out a mile, no uniform as such, but may well have been. Girls wore plain black dresses with a white smock on top, grey socks, lace up boots. Boys wore jerseys, grey or black, short black trousers, grey socks and hob nailed boots. We dressed the same all year round, we really stood out, I do suppose we were lucky.

1925-1930 was a time of deep depression, poverty was the norm for working classes. School was very strict. Hours were 8.45am to 12 noon, with ten minutes playtime. The local kids would indulge themselves in sweets and crisps, not for us though, it wasn’t Christmas.

Dinner 12 to 1.30. Back to the home for a meal, stew, but very good. No one left the table without permission and there was no talking during the meal, cutlery and plates to be returned to the kitchen then we were allowed to play until 1.15pm after which we washed and went back to school. If I had been allowed to remain at this school my education would have been better, it was a very dedicated place of learning. Some days I vividly remember my life in the home, other times not, it’s almost seventy years ago.

Sunday was a day of all days, no games of any kind, the day was full of religious teaching. Sunday school was at 11 o’clock in the village hall, it was on Carlton Green (the hall is no longer there). Sunday lunch was at 12.30 and it was the best meal of the week. Back to Sunday school at 3 o’clock and evensong in the church at 6 o’clock. We took all this as the norm, we knew of no other life. We were all in bed at 8 o’clock summer or winter, very long dreary nights. Mother would drop in to see no one was running around.

On Saturdays, delight upon delight, a visit to the Crescent Cinema, this once a month. We all went with house Mothers, what a joy! - going into Pontefract to us kids would be like going to Bridlington for kids of today. The town seemed so distant to us and it was only a mile away. Each child was given a small bar of Toblerone chocolate, being informed first that it was a gift from the Board. The films to us were wonderful and we looked forward to every month.

Long summer holidays we enjoyed, there was plenty of room to play and the days seemed never ending. Older boys and girls of seven, eight and nine would have chores, always under supervision of the staff; sewing, bed making, potato peeling, sweeping and dusting. It was not thought of as a chore, merely a break from the norm. I don’t remember having a job myself but still, I was only eight when I left.

Receiving new clothes was a great event. Any to be replaced would be taken by us, Mother in tow, to the Matrons house. It was a bit scary for us. We entered a room resembling Aladdin’s cave, clothes of all kinds, frocks, socks, trousers, boots (no shoes), towels and sheets. Matron was very reluctant to give any away. She would examine our garment or boots with a very critical eye and if they could be repaired our request for exchange would be refused. Darning and sewing would have to be tried first. Getting anything from Matron was a feat; just going to see her was an experience!

A day in August was a day to look forward to, it was the homes outing. A bus would take us to Hensall or Goole for the day. Not much by today’s standard, but to us in 1926 it was Blackpool and Benidorm all rolled into one. Our day was one to be cherished. We would not be able to sleep for days before the big event, everyone was excited, none would dare do anything wrong for fear of the consequences.

At last the big day dawned, I never remember it raining, it dare not. All up at 6am, bathed, best Sunday clothes on, early breakfast, then all up at the windows looking for the first sight of the busses, all agog happy kids eager and keen for the days events. Coaches are here, loaded up with food, fruit, lemonade, even crisps, compliments of the Board. At last we board the busses, excitement at its highest, a window seat worth its weight in gold. We are going into the countryside, miles away as we thought, but no one can take away its magic.

We arrive in green fields, races planned, sacks given out, skipping ropes etc. Now food bags are given to each child, all amazed at the contents, crisps complete with little blue bags of salt, boiled sweets, meat sandwiches, biscuits, bottle of pop, what a day! We exchanged sweets, enjoy to the full all the sports events. We all said we were going to save some sweets, but alas none did - at the end of the day all were gone. Inter-house games were played, football, cricket, rounders, a great day out, but it had to end. Home we went tired out.

I don’t remember once having any visitors, but was told later Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie had been to see me, but I didn’t remember.

I was now coming up to my seventh birthday, they were not special days then, there were too many children to have birthday celebrations. I was doing very well at school and enjoyed it. About this time I was having trouble with my eyes, not with vision, but red, inflamed and sore. A medication called Golden Eye Ointment was used, it helped a little, but this was to plague me for years. A doctor visited the home every week and we had a resident nurse. Sometime in July 1930, I was told that I was leaving the only family I ever knew and going to a place called Tanshelf to live with my mother, grandmother and granddad. I was told I had a sister Dorothy, whom I had never seen, my mother and grandparents I never remember seeing either. I do know the change upset me, I was going from security into the unknown.

My home was now Coburg Street, Tanshelf. It was very strange. I met mother, sister grandparents, all of them complete strangers to me. I was surprised to find that Auntie Nellie, mothers’ stepsister, lived there as well as Uncle Bill, mothers brother; it was all overpowering for me. I cried most nights for some time. This house at the top of the row, had three bedrooms, the norm was two. After the space I had lived in it seemed very crowded. More was to come as mother was married to a Mr. Poole and I had a stepfather, but more about him later, enough to say I disliked him.

How we all lived in that house even today I don’t know. Even at the tender age of eight I knew how uneasy and very unhappy I was. The days of regular meals, baths every night, lots of friends, had gone forever. Now bread and dripping, cold water and a cold bed shared with my sister. It soon came to me that crying over my lot was not going to help. I was in a new world where it was dog eat dog, more so on the streets of Tanshelf. I met the kids of the street and I got a rough time. I was a new boy wearing trousers and jersey with no holes and clean knees, I had to muck in and join them. Let your guard down and your life would be hell, you had to give as much as you got and not run away. For me it was hard, I had led a sheltered life. I dug my heels in and stuck up for myself as it was the only way. I was a new kid with no friends and someone to pick on. I had a few fights, but don’t remember winning any though the thing was not to cry.

All the kids were in gangs and I had to get into one to exist. A few lies about my background and more fights was helping, but it caused lots of trouble at home. Cut knees, torn shirts and jerseys would be rewarded by bawling and shouting plus a few clouts around the head.

I was now getting accepted into the gang. Cyril Gill was called captain and there was Tom Madden, Billy Burgess, Owen Oates, and Charlie Hill to name a few. When it was found that I was a decent fast bowler my place in the gang was secure. My Uncle Bill who lived with us was a very good slow left arm bowler and played on a local team. He treated me very well indeed. Early Saturdays in summer was cricket match days, I would clean and whiten his boots and he would then take me to the match. They were great days of village cricket, at this time he was playing for Glasshoughton. The food at teatime provided by the players wives was to me, at nine years old, out of this world. I was always hungry and there would be sandwiches of all kinds, cakes, jellies and pop for the kids. This was the first time I had tasted butter, good old Uncle Bill.

Again how we all fitted into 20 Coburg Street I don’t know. Cyril Poole, mother, Dorothy and myself in one room, grandma and granddad in another, then there was Auntie Nellie and Uncle Bill.

I still had to go to bed at 8pm come summer or winter; talk about being scared! I’d been used to sleeping in a big room in the company of other children. Most times grandma would take me upstairs holding the candle and when it was blown out I was very frightened. I would keep coughing, and grandma would shout up "It’s alright we’re still here". Those were some of the most lonely nights.

I never saw mother a great deal, my life revolved around grandma, granddad and Uncle Bill. In winter I would sit with grandma for many an hour, she would chat away about anything and answer my childish questions. Last thing at night she would put golden eye ointment in my eyes, they were always red and inflamed. I had a cup of cocoa and a biscuit, then up ‘calvary mountain’ as she called it.

Mother and Cyril Poole (I never called him dad) would be out every night and I hardly saw them. On Saturday nights at 9pm, very late for me, grandma would say, "get the basket Charlie, it’s time to go to Ponte market". Almost all shops closed late those days. There were bargains to be had after 9pm as there was no refrigeration. Grandma would make a beeline to the hot-pea stall for a dish of hot peas and bags of vinegar - it was a feast. Next the fruit and veg stall where the stall-holder would be shouting at the top of his voice accompanied with jokes. As a typical example he would hold up a paper carrier and amidst his chatter he would put in a scoop of potatoes, carrots, onions, a turnip, then a rabbit. He would start off at two shillings knowing he had no chance at that price and we would get the carrier for 11d or even 10d. His jolly patter was worth that.

Next the meat shop where a sheep’s head, stew meat and a pile of bones cost a shilling. I think one weeks’ wages were only about twenty-five shillings at this time, so every penny had to count. A weeks dole was ten shillings. The last call me and grandma made on Saturday night (it would be about 10pm by now) would be the sweet stall, a childs’ delight. For 2d she would get a bag full of boiled sweets and would always ask for a couple of complete boiled fish, different colours of course, for me; what more could a child want? A steady walk down Sessions House yard, Colonels Walk, and then home with our spoils, I could not have a fish until Sunday. A mug of cocoa and then off to bed, complete with candle, tired out. I loved Saturdays!

I would stop in bed the next morning as it was Sunday. I would be awake but not allowed out of bed until I was told. Breakfast was always stewing beef and cow heel, which had been cooking all night at the side of the coal fire. The milkman would come about nine and I would go out with a jug for a pint of milk. It was Yorkshire pudding day and the milkman only came on Sundays, other days condensed milk was used. Sunday was also the day for wearing your best clothes (if you had any). I remember once having a blazer, talk about being posh, it probably vanished, like anything else during these hard times, to the pawnshop.

A word or two about granddad Crisp, he was mothers stepfather, Auntie Nellie’s dad, though I didn’t know this at the time - everything was so strange to me. Taking people as I found them, granddad and grandma were very good to me, as was Uncle Bill and at this stage of my young life it would have been hell without them. At this time I would be about eight years old, granddad was a night watchman for the Yorkshire Electric Company, any work in the streets that could not be completed before night time, he would be called upon to duty, mainly from 6pm to 8am. He had a box to sit in, which resembled a sentry box. He would fill up red paraffin lamps, place them near open holes and make sure they remained lit all night. A brasier would be glowing red hot outside the box, and at times he sorely needed it. About seven at night I would go with grandma to take him a flask of tea and a jug of hot stew. We walked it and sometimes it was quite a distance. Granddad had another string to his bow, an allotment up Ackworth Road. He made a hut there, a home from home complete with a stove, kettle and teapot. Sometimes after school I would find that he had left me 2d to go to the cheap shop (I forgot the name) and get half a pound of ginger nuts and take them up to the allotment. We would sit munching biscuits and he would tell some tall yarns, but they were great at the time.

When I was nine years old, apart from these episodes with grandparents, I felt very unhappy as there was always a lot of tension at home, I had to do this, go there, be seen not heard. There were terrible rows and all involved mother, Cyril Poole and granddad. I would be terrified. If Uncle Bill was there he would get me out of it. Whatever the rows were about I never knew, life was hell.

On one occasion Uncle Bill took me to one of our next door neighbours Charles Hill, and sons, Charlie, Harold and Clarence, they were to figure a lot in my later life, not to the better I may say. My sister Dorothy’s participation in all this is vague, she was still with us, but must have been working. I never saw her much only at bedtime. The rows at home continued. My Uncle Bill left about this time to marry Auntie Doris and went to live in Featherstone. Auntie Nellie was courting a miner from Featherstone and he was very good to me. He had a car, which was a novelty as there were not many cars to be seen in Tanshelf. When he pulled up in the street, the neighbours all turned out to watch. The kids including me gathered around this strange object. He and Aunt Nellie would get in and set off with all the kids hanging on, their day was made, mine was to come. One day, I’ll long remember, he came to pick up Auntie Nellie and she wasn’t ready, so he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride - cor did I! In I got and all the kids were watching, it was great! That was the first of many rides with him. They were married in 1932 and lived in lodgings in Mount Pleasant Street, Featherstone.

Now to my new school, Tanshelf Junior Mixed where I soon fitted in. Kids were rough in those days and they had to be, there was no place for a mummy’s boy. You gave as much as you got and added a little bit more. I walked to school for 9am and back home for dinner at 12noon; I use the word dinner, if bread and jam can be called that. Back to school for 1.30pm and home again at 4pm. At the top of Beechnut, where the school was, there was a small wooden hut facing the park, smaller than a domestic garage. It was a lock up shop that sold sweets, crisps and pop. It would not last ten minutes today, the vandals would see to that.

My first day got off to a flying start in more ways than one. I had a fight with one Cyril Gill, he picked on me and tripped me up, a fight ensued but I gave as good as I got. We were parted by the Headmaster Mr. Lee and both made to stop in after 4pm. Cyril and I became firm friends and remained friends until his death in 1987. Cyril’s dad was a widower, a 1914-18 soldier. His house, or at least the back kitchen, was later to be our gangs base. Schooling at Tanshelf was not up to the standard of Carlton school. At eight years old I was way ahead in maths, reading and history and this was to be my place of learning until I was eleven, I really liked that school.

A great surprise awaited us one lunchtime. We left school at 12pm and there outside the school gates sat a man on a big carpet covered with all sorts of toys including yo-yo’s, whip and tops, skipping ropes, mouth organs, footballs, pencils, dolls, etc., to us kids it was a great sight. The man informed us that to get any one of the goods on offer we had to ask our parents for old woollen’s - that was a laugh, Tanshelf kids were wearing them! Going back to school at 1.30pm his trade was very slack, after one more envious look at the goods on display we filed into school.

Pontefract at that time boasted three cinemas and a theatre. On Sunday morning we would go to the top of Tanshelf (the posh part), and watch the actors arriving for the weeks show. The Alexandra Theatre was right opposite the Queens Hotel. The first film shown was Top-Hat. The Crescent Cinema was posh, the Playhouse in Gillygate and the Premier provided varied entertainment. My favourite was the Alexandra Theatre, and all the kids that could afford 2d would sit up in the Gods, that was very high up indeed; a wire mesh screen was in front of us for protection.

A place of delight for us was Pontefract Park, this would have been between 1932-39 and around the lake was a massive flower garden, well tended, rose trees of all varieties, flowers galore, it really was a delight. Today it’s a tip. Near the far side of the grandstand was a high mound of earth, which we knew as the Butts. During the 1914 war, soldiers at the barracks used it for rifle practice and we used to dig into the Butts for spent bullets. We found many and used them among ourselves to exchange for marbles, glass allies, anything for barter. Again the walk around the lake was a delight with the profusion of flowers, the boats on the lake were beyond our reach (no money). I and my new found friends spent hours in the park for me it got me away from an unhappy home, the constant arguments, fights and tension.

Another gem of entertainment was Pontefract Castle where again Pontefract Town Council excelled themselves in flowers, bushes and lawns that they provided in this haven; it was a credit to all concerned. At the entrance to the castle there was a First World War tank and many an hour was spent there, what happened to it? We Tanshelf children walked miles with bread and jam sandwiches and a bottle of water (full of breadcrumbs) - our parents enjoyed it too as we were not under their feet. We would get home late afternoon, tired and very hungry, the sandwiches had gone after the first mile or so.

At times in the summer holidays I had to go pea pulling with Cyril Poole and mother. A lorry would pull up in Stuart Road and the women and kids with their stools and buckets would climb up into the lorries. Everyone stood up so they could get more people aboard and then it was off to the pea fields. All the pullers would line up in the field and start picking peas, for 6d or 7d a sack. A sack would contain about four domestic bucketful’s and it was really hard work. If you earned 5/- (25p) you had done well.

After the grown ups had had their meal the quart water bottles would be empty and we kids would then glean or pull peas, shell them and do our uttermost to fill the bottle. A very tedious job, but on going home mother would tell me to knock on doors and sell them.

Jobs on Mondays were varied – it was wash day and also time to pay a visit to the pawn shop where suits, frocks, coats, sheets and blankets would be taken. As I got older, it became my job and the articles would be pledged for a few shillings. Sometimes we would return for them on Friday, pay a small fee and they would be back the following Monday. On wash days Granddad would fill the copper boiler in the corner of the kitchen and light a fire underneath. All whites were washed separate, the colours next. Clothes were hung out in the back street on our line. In bad weather, they were put on lines in the house or on the clothes horse. The mangle, a great big monstrosity in the scullery, was often used. It had massive wooden rollers and a great big wheel to turn them. Ironing was carried out when the clothes were dry. Two irons were placed on a grid in front of the fire, right next to the coals, until hot enough; you tested by spitting on the hot surface.

Monday was also bread making day, Thursday also, when loaves, cobs and breadcakes would be made, oh what a glorious smell! Eating them was a gourmet meal. Black leading the kitchen fire was done on Fridays and the fire could not be lit until this job was completed. I’ve seen Uncle Billy and granddad do this work which was a picture when done.

Our neighbours in Tanshelf, most of them anyway, were the salt of the earth. Everyone helped each other and their help was always given gladly. No one had any money, because 1930-39 was grim by any standards, depression and poverty was eating into the very soul. I think dole money was £1.00 a week, but most men did not get that as they did not have enough stamps on their cards. You couldn’t get stamps if you were not working. These men had to resort to someone called Leng (if I remember correctly) who oversaw the poor relief run by the local council. Before he would lend any money, (sorry, but it had to be paid back) you first had to sell anything you had to sell, all he would leave you with would be a bed, table and chairs; I learnt all this as I grew older. What would they have done for today’s handouts?

At this time I would go with mother, cap in hand to the Municipal Offices to ask for a pair of boots so I could go to school. It was heartbreaking because of all the questions asked. The powers that be were very unfeeling. Dire poverty is not to be recommended, it was soul destroying. At this time 1930-31 Britain had the largest empire in the world, but the riches of this empire stayed with the rich. The only help would be from our neighbours, true friends. If you were ill and could not bake bread or wash, help would be given. Illness or death was a time of help by others, help in all forms except money was freely given. Childbirth was always at home, some women (not midwives) would be in attendance and do all there was to do. The same help would apply to a death in the family, a woman would be called in to see the body and lay it out for burial. Yes, help if needed was freely given.

Charles Ellis