What One Sees Today Is History Tomorrow
Written by John Hubert Pelzer
Edited by Gareth Roberts
History is on your door step. Just look around and see the changes day by day. I saw many changes in Llansamlet, even from an early age. When I was a little boy the roads were not very wide, only horses and carts used them. Where I lived our garden was nearly by Tabor entrance, within a few yards of the steps.
I lived in a little cottage built when the 'Works' came. As soon as the industry started houses were needed for the work force, the owner of the 'Works' were soon able to exploit the workers by putting them in Tithe cottages and paying the workers with tokens which could be spent at the local corner shop (also owned by the 'works'), so they owned you lock, stock and barrel.
The cottages had 2 bedrooms, small windows, 1 kitchen and 1 parlour. Some people were so overcrowded that some slept on the couch in the front room, and people wonder why bronchitis and tuberculosis was rife. Parents slept in the same room as their daughters with only a modesty sheet strung up to protect them from being embarrassed. One could not keep the house clean with all the dust and grime from all the industries that encircled Llansamlet.
The smoke bellowed out from 'The Aber', 'The Swansea Vale', 'The Beaufort', 'Dyffrn', 'Upper Forest' and 'The Gas Works'. When it rained the smoke was so thick that it was like a fog descending down. People coughed and men who had given their lives to Lead, Tin and Steel coughed because of the effect of the dust and smoke, eventually being thrown on to the scrap heap because they were too ill to carry on working. Some lived on hand-outs, some relied on Parish Relief. It was a hard and cruel place.
Men worked in local industries in conditions that today would not be tolerated. The dust would be so thick in some parts of the works that you could not see your hands in front of you. Heavy work all done by hand. From the moment that a boat docked with the ore until it was a finished product, men did it all by hand, filling the furnaces, carrying the lead ore, tapping the metal, all by hand. Long steel bars were manhandled in the local tin works, cut up into small sections (18 feet long) ready to be put into furnaces until red hot, pulled out by tongs, to be rolled into tin plate. Long strips of metal cut by a shearer into pieces about 2 ft. 6 in by 2 ft., these would then be split open by girls until they had eight sheets and stack them for them to be placed on a trolley pulled along by young boys.
The steel was then kneeled, cold rolled and pickled in acid to take out all the impurities in the sheet, then it went into the tin house for coating with Tin, stacked and carried by lads ready to be sorted and boxed ready for all parts of the world, all by hand. Men too exhausted to talk, sweat congealing on their small shirts into salt, these are the surroundings in which I was brought up.
Until 1926 my father was a collier, working in the various collieries around the Landore area but finished when the copper pit closed, he then became a Tin worker in the 'Aber Works'. In those days there was no Pithead baths, colliers walked home in the clothes they worked in, covered in mud and dust. They would bath in front of the fire in either in half a barrel or small metal baths. No matter how many people were in the house the collier would have his bath. If the lads in the family were also miners then it would be 'bath to the half then lower parts'. A fan dancer could learn a lot off them the way they used the towel to protect their modesty.
So what did I see as I grew up in this environment, being the eldest of four brothers I was lucky as anything new I had then handed down to the next, sometimes I did not have a pair of shoes, many lads walked to school bare-footed.
I spent my school years in three different schools, the first of these was Llansamlet Old School (called Church School before the authorities took it over). In my Grandfather's day you had to pay to go to Church School, until it was taken over by the State and later by the local authority. In 1929 I went to Llansamlet New School for a few months (Now the school is a Welsh School). I then went to Peniel Green school, this is were they sorted out the wheat from the chaff, if you know what I mean. The boys and girls were sorted out for grammar school. I believe there was a bit of class prejudice where pupils were not chosen because their families could not afford the uniforms, so you had the middle class which earned grammar school education simply because they had the money, I believe this is why Comprehensive schools came about, in order to give everyone a chance at a decent education. I was at Peniel Green School for about two years before I returned to Llansamlet where I was until I was fourteen. Whilst there I learnt quite a lot, I also attended night school when I left Llansamlet school. When I left school I went to work on the 'Buildings', there I must stop for a while and tell you more about my growing up in Llansamlet.
I was an observant boy and noticed things going on around me. As a boy I used to swim in the 'Fountain' (which was a water trough for horses). Cars were in their infancy, not many people could afford them, so nearly everything was moved by horse and cart, ash, night soil, haulage, etc. Of course there was the steam locomotives from Baters yard and John Hall that took tin and other material such as lead and zinc to the docks, along with material from the quarry and acid to the various works from the 'Swansea Vale', milk carts delivering milk gambos from the farm, selling wares, this was a way of life.
I remember toilets at the bottom of gardens and in the dark we would be like Olympic runners with a piece of flaming rolled-up paper to give us enough light in the night, we would throw a brick at the toilet door to frighten any rats away because there was a pig sty in the garden. It was quite an event when the butcher came to kill the pig. I always had a football when they killed the pig because I had the pig's bladder to kick around. When I saw the bench coming out and boiling water on the fire place I knew that soon we would be having some spare ribs (nowadays you cam buy these in a shop), also we saved the blood and added herbs and spices to make Black Pudding. My job as a little boy was to rub saltpetre into the pig, of course my efforts were quite small. After a while the carcass would be hung up on hooks in the kitchen, of course with the coal and wood fire burning the meat would soon start going brown. But what a treat it was when you had welsh bacon and eggs for breakfast.
I remember the gas lamps being put on the street, these were lit by Mr. Stock with his long pole. He would have a taper at the end of the pole in case the pilot light on the lamp had gone out, of course houses were lit by paraffin lamps placed on the table and flickering shadows all over the walls, but it was never cold in those houses. My Great Grandmother lived four doors down from us at No. 621 so I spent most of my time down there because all my aunts and uncles lived with her. My Grandmother lost three daughters (who were married) very quick in the 1918 Era. Spanish Flu took its toll of many. I did not see my Grandmother or my mother's sisters because they all died as a result of Spanish Flu and were buried on 11th November 1918 (Armistice Day) at Llansamlet church where their other sister is buried.
All told I had 1 Grandfather, 7 aunties and 5 uncles on my mother's side and I had 1 Grandmother, 6 aunties and 3 uncles on my Father's side, so I had plenty of relatives to look after me. I have vivid memories of sleeping at the vicarage with my Aunt who was in service with the vicar, The Reverend Aldred Williams. Anyone in service in those days led a life of near slavery. Head Cook and Bottle washer, from dawn till late at night, but what could one do with the poverty of the late 1920's and 1930's. You had to be lucky to hold onto a job. Many girls ended up in the workhouse when parents could not afford to keep them and many young girls had been taken to a workhouse through no fault of their own, but back to my boyhood. My dad was very strict, the strap was on my backside very often. My mam worked hard to bring us up. Eventually my family ended up with 4 boys and 1 girl, with only three years difference in age between the 4 boys. Of course, bringing up such a large family in a small cottage tensions were always frayed and many rows erupted, but we battled through. The church played a big part in our upbringing. We went to Sunday service and Sunday school, we used to go to festivals with the church to various other churches in the valley, also Operettas and Pantomimes were held in the Parish hall, and Sunday School Teas. On Christmas and New Year we would go up to the Vicarage to wish the Vicar and his wife compliments of the season and we would have a new penny and an orange. The Vicarage was also a place where the poor people went to collect their Parish Relief. Squires of old and people with money would write in their wills to donate a part of their estates to the poor of the parish. Many of the poor were war widows and some lost their husbands as a result of the conditions that they worked in, so with no DHSS in those days it was up to the Parish. The Poor Parish Door was seen built with a white Marble stone above telling them where to go. I often feel bitter because the rich gentry lived well in houses away from the smoke and filth, while workers and their wives were often seen desperate to bring up their children with no bathrooms and washing machines. The women folk were the washing machines the way they used to slog over that scrubbing board with Jollywasher soap or Sunlight Soap. Sometimes if Mother was washing blankets she would use the wooden tub, fill it with water and 'Dolly' the clothes, if she did not possess a mangle she would wring the clothes with the help of one of the household. The Dolly was a large block of wood rounded with ridges cut around the bottom and a handle in the shape of a cross and you stood in the tub and press up and down causing a suction that cleaned the clothes. The water would have to be carried from the tap in pitchers or buckets, boiled over the fire in a boiler. The boilers were made by tinkers who stayed at Pontyplawd, they came the same time every year. They would go into the local works, buy tin sheets and turn them into boilers. They also made pegs from the branches of trees and some earned a few bob telling people their fortunes.
Putting the clothes on the line when the smoke was going the wrong way was hopeless as they came back in off the line black, sometimes it was heartbreaking, but some of them folk lived to a ripe old age (averaging 87-90 years), so either the smoke did them some good or the sulphur that blew over from the Vale.
As I grew older I saw them widening the roads and laying a sewer so people could have flush toilets (I believe it was 1929), before that the road was just a rough track and there was in various places areas where the chippings were kept. These rocks would come from the quarry and men would break them into small pieces with a sledge to fill the pot holes. Some roads to this day have not been finished and pot holes are everywhere. Milkmen delivered milk to your door fresh from the farm, the substitute was a tin of nestle's Milk, thick milk like cream, that is what some of the poor people had. Some children were brought up on Nestle's Milk.
Men would spent their spare time playing Bowls, cricket, rugby or football. I often remember when I was a boy my dad (The trainer, now called a 'physio' massaging the players of the local rugby team (called the Samlet Saints). That team produced some internationals but they were disbanded in the late 1920's. Some photos of the team still exist today in the local pub (The Smith's Arms) and the local barbers (Mr. Thomas). Liniment and sweat was one of my favourite smells and those big rugby players taught me in later life that discipline was the key to life and many a time I think of those players laying on the front room table. Many had also fought in the war and knew what discipline meant on the field and in their everyday lives and they earned the respect of others.
Many sports were played and some played on fields that hardly had a blade of grass on them. One such place was the site of where Tescos is now, it was barren and stoney but they played there with cardboard to protect their shins. Of course there was the recreation ground but it was a Fair Field twice a year. Football was played there but because of the black dust we came home looking like black people, but there was always the canal at the side to wash down in or the 'Pond Melyn' which the water was as yellow as an orange. There was a joke that the local doctor (Dr. Jones) treated a boy for Yellow Jaundice only to find out that he went for a swim in the 'Pond Melyn'.
You could walk from the 'Rec' to the pond through a tunnel under the railway line called the 'Coronation Tunnel'. There was a stone at the entrance from the 'Rec' and you could walk from Church road to Neath road in my day (Point of note, Neath road is now called Samlet road and the right of way has been taken over by Short Bros.). They should not of taken that 'right of way' and talking of 'rights of way', how many have been lost to the nation that are under builders foundations or filled with waste products, I could walk from Llansamlet Plough to Heolas along the canal bank under the railway arch across the Dram road and come out in Heolas. I just mentioned the Dram road, yes it was the Dram road from the Emily Pit to the Smith Canal, also from Scott Pit. Recently it has come to light that many houses have been built on top of colliery workings. By the collapse of the road believe me the area in the Cwm Farm has a lot of mine shafts dating back a few centuries. Dram road was built by Scott. Scott Pit was started by Scott but they hit water so the pit was abandoned but Scott was advised by Squire Smith to put in a Cornish Pump, this was not successful so he sold out to Squire Smith. it was the Morgan Family that lived in Gwenanyth House before the Smiths came on the scene. Smith's father-in-law was Charley Towsend, a coal owner and an industrialist. He built a pit in Heolas called Emily after his daughter and Charles pit in Llansamlet, this was near the church grounds. Coal was in such great demand that he had to find a way of moving coal fast. His first attempt involved horses dragging a contraption similar to a sleigh, then later he put down sleepers and put wooden wheels on a little cart that would get as far as Foxhole, so a quicker way was needed so he built the canal. I suppose all the water that came out of the old works was used to fill the canal. This canal started near Heolas (Don't forget the railway was not built yet) and passed Cwm Farm, past Gwenlan Farm, past where the Community Centre is now, along the stretch where Shoe City is, along the valley to Foxhole.
There a Lock Gate stands to this day and some of the canal can be seen today by the Plough in Llansamlet, it is now overgrown and filled in but people are reading that it was folly to neglect the canal and have started to clear them up. For them what was once allowed to go into decay historians are battling to save. Yes the past has a lot to teach us, Pontawre canal, Neath canal, why not the stretch from the Plough to Heolas. Will it not be great, boats, fish, water, birds, or is it only a dream in my mind, will we ever see it. So much for the canal and colliery I see that they want to repair the clock and tower in Llansamlet church. Why has it been allowed to decay, it sticks out like a sentinel over Llansamlet, soon it will be surrounded with Hi-tech. buildings, but in the age of High-tech. time has stopped in Llansamlet. For many years how that church bell called us to worship and the golden hand telling us how much time we had, Mary Davies pulling the bell rope. It stopped ringing in 1939 to 1945, it rang out to tell us it was victory, but I tell a lie, the church bell rang during the war and called out the Home Guard. It was stated that owing to the War bells would not be rung unless there was an invasion of our country. In 1941 the Bell rang out one night and alerted everyone that an invasion had started, the Home Guard took up their positions and everyone was warned to stay indoors, everyone was checked for identity cards, Home Guard patrolled the streets. When dawn broke it was discovered that it was a false alarm, I wonder if the enemy ever did step on our shores. Time will tell when papers are opened in years to come and the questions asked. But what if the church bell had not called us out and the enemy was at our door. Who knows, maybe if we had of been an occupied country people today would realise what freedom means, ask the dutch people about occupation and the atrocities, how lucky we were, but it was no laughing matter to be bombed day and night, young and old in waterlogged shelters, eight or nine people huddled together from dusk to dawn, cold and shivering.
There was not much food around either with the Rationing, but people stuck together in those days. 2 oz. of butter, Meat, Tea, Sugar, Fruit such as Citrus were rare. Children carrying their gas masks to school, People carrying their gas masks everywhere, and I mean everywhere.