This bonfire night photograph was taken on the large open space, between Devonport and Warrenport Roads, on the “new” Portrack estate. Campbell Court can be seen in the background.
Although it looks dramatic, it was a shadow of what was the main bonfire in Portrack in the 1950’s. The bushes, trees and waste timber took about a week to set up on Portrack Common, where the bus depot now stands. By the time it was finished it would be about 15-20 ft high and 30 ft in diameter. The teenagers and young men, from the Canns, Larges and Mannion families, were the people who built it.
After the bonfire being lit it took 20 minutes for it to get going. At its peak, the radiation, from what was an inferno, was so intense it was impossible to get much closer than 30 yards. People like Derek Wade will bear out this story.
Every “gang” in Portrack had their own bonfire, but obviously a lot smaller than the one on the Common. I used to join in with the kids from Barrett Street. We had ours on an open space next to the Old Peoples Home (Portrack Hospital, formerly the Workhouse). But the same thing went on all over Stockton.
The weather always seemed to be fairly miserable on Guy Fawkes Night, but this made the event even more memorable at a time when the only street lighting was by gas, and nights were dark … At one point, during the evening, someone would say “Look Up”, and one would see a bright-red overcast, the clouds reflecting back the light from the bonfires. It was one of the weirdest things I remember, although it must have been familiar to anyone who had been in a bombing attack in WWII.
Photograph and details courtesy of Fred Starr.
Colin Wakenshaw must have lived at the Clarence Street set of houses, by the North Shore Branch Line, which must have been among the oldest in Portrack. His gang would have been at the other end, from Barrett Street, of a newly built concrete road that ran along the ten foot brick wall that was at the back of the Old Peoples Home. This road was built around 1947, I think, and was intended to serve a number of engineering workshops, built on what was once a lovely grassy green space.
Periodically small scale stone throwing fights would break out between the Barrett Street gang, of which I was a member, and that of Colins. First one side would run up the road chasing the other side, before throwing the stones. Then, out of ammunition, the other side now armed with stones, would attack and there would be a panic retreat.
The Larges, Canns and Mannions were not really part of our group.
These exchanges, in which there were never more than about 15 kids, aged 7-13, on either side were insignificant compared to a hundred or so (each) from Portrack and Tilery who periodically battled over the high ground of Blacketts Brick Works. If the Tilery lot were advancing, a terrifying treat was in order!
I very much remeber the bonfire gathering and the nights of the big light down Portrack but not down the lane but in the estate they called the buildings which was behind the crickets arms pub just over the railway crossing at the bottom of Garbet street.
We would always have run ins with the Barret street lot which included the Larges notable one of which was Maggie Larg.
On the night its self I always remeber getting potatos from the allotment and putting them in the ashes and dragging them out mad hot and burnt black on the outside took ages to eat but were wonderful
The Mannion family lived in No 1 (?) Jackson Street on the west side of Portrack Common. This alongside Watson Street was a half completed row of about six houses. (there is a painting of Watson Street on Picture Stockton). I cannot remember whether the Cannes lived in Watson or Jackson Street.
The Larges family were in a single big block on the opposite side of the Common, quite close to Portrack Lane. It is referred to on the map as Clyde Street, but it was barely discernible as a street, it was so short, the half completed granite sets partly covered with soil, and sods of weasily looking grass..
All of these families where struggling, but on the 5th November, they were the Kings of Portrack.
It seems unbelievable now but in the 1950’s there were bonfires lit in the middle of many of the residential streets, usually at one end of the street. Thornaby rec’ was full of small fires and I remember on one occasion, a friend of my brother,who had his supply of bangers in his pocket, suddenly screaming out in pain after some ‘bright spark’ had decided to throw a match in his pocket with the inevitable result. Even though hurt, fortunately not too seriously, I seem to remember Harry was more scared of going home and his mam finding the burn holes in his clothes, than worrying about the pain.
The ‘bondy’ in Parkfield was one of those in the middle of the street, in Percy Street at the end of Mitre Street, in front of the scrap yard and about 50 yards from Mr. Hutchinson’s garage, with it’s petrol pump. Why in that particular spot is anyone’s guess; tradition perhaps! Because of the close proximity of the petrol the fire engines used to come every year to put it out, and the lads would light it again with kerosene or something. The cops would come as well, but it always managed to get relit. And I don’t ever remember seeing any parents around, just the kids and teenagers.
Hi Jim
I bet you also remember prior to Nov 5th when gangs of lads from Parkfield and the Sunderland Glebe estate went around “Bondy” raiding any bonfire that was being built to supplement their own fire. Great days then on the night itself having pockets full of bangers to light and throw around into crowds of girls. Nobody ever seemed to get hurt though. We used to build ours on the piece of waste land outside the wall of St Cuthberts School then join the one at the end of Northcote St. Great to read memories of those days before the world became H & S conscious.
At Richard Hind School we made our own fire works in chemistry, gun powder is only three ingredients easily procured then, cardboard was used for cases and depending on how hard we compressed it we got high medium or low explosions.
We would all be filing different metals for the coloured sparks each metal gave a nice colour and the fuse string soaked in Saltpetre and dried. Mix the gunpowder with the filings pack it in the case and add the fuse.
Our bonfires were in Norton Show Field behind our house and the fire works display set off by the adults who seemed to get more fun out of it than we did.
Wartime fires were banned so we sneaked our fireworks down the mill and caused mayhem. The Village Bobby warned me off and it cost Dad some bacon rashers to soothe things over. Having our own pigs solved a lot of mine and Mothers scrapes. Of course H&S did not exist at the time.
Margaret I remember this very well. I went to school with the bright spark who did this. He suffered for weeks for weeks with the ribbings he got from us all and the Teachers.
Hi Fred,
Your tale of the bondi on the common raked up some long forgotten memories – I owe you another one. You have the correct main character’s, or should I say culprits. Strange how the coppers never used to make a fuss over such things as a great big fire in those days. Even back then I wondered why so many people must have wanted to get rid of so much worn furniture within the same week or so of each year. Occasionally Tommy Burr would assist with his horse and cart, but mostly the effort was by those mentioned.
Your mention of the various ‘gangs’ brought back another memory for me. Myself and a couple of pals often had a little fire on the common and roasted potatoes acquired from various sources. On one such get together we decided that we must be a gang and should have a ‘secret’ medal, on a string, hanging around our necks so that we could recognise each other. Sort of dumb I suppose. Anyway the common still had plenty of clay from the days when it was a clay pit; the houses in Bailey Street being demolished had lead piping and so we made some cast lead medallions – oh boy were they heavy. These we wore to school the following day (innocence is wonderful). Harry Rigg, the headmaster got wind of our secret sign and we were duly summoned to his sanctum. Despite our attempts to get out of it, Mr Rigg would not have gangs in his school. Put your hand out Wade was the instruction, followed by WHACK. I never founded another gang.
“The clouds reflecting back the light must have been familiar to those in wartime raids” true Fred and I had to be dragged into the shelter because watching the fireworks display was a sight to see.
I was quickly cured though the night the Old Mill at Norton was Bombed as I was out in the road watching when it registered the buzzing noise was a German plane and the whistling noise Bombs. Hitting the ground and thinking why are they bombing me then hitting the ground again as the Bombs hit and went off, they seemed to surge through the road as if I was lifted and dropped me yet again. I belted round to Mrs Pearsons shelter where Mother was and only stopped as I hit the back wall of the Anderson Shelter and rebounded.
We had nearly two years of those often nightly shows, the flaming onions from the Portrack site, the 4.7 AA guns from Kiaora which flew over the house with a moaning sound, the light AA Bofers which often drove onto the Green or Show field to get a clear area for swinging round, it all added to the fun for a lad. I have to admit fireworks have never really excited me since.