The Garngad Heritage
The unpublished work

April 1996

MEMORIES:

My name is Robert McLaughlin, I was born on 20th. March 1936 in the room & kitchen 1 up at 33 Tharsis Street, Glasgow.   My father was Robert (Big Robey), my mother Robina (wee)? (Beenie Mair).   I had a brother Harry who was six years older, have a sister Betty, 21 months younger and brother Tommy, 12 years younger.  Tommy and I are still in Glasgow, he in the West End and me in the South Side.   Betty is in Oregon in the United States.

While living in Tharsis Street I remember the neighbours, 'Granny' Brown who lived directly above us on the top flat, her son Neilly who was in the army during the 2nd world war ( I met Neilly in the late 70's up in Possilpark where he was staying) Jimmy Watt, his wife and their daughter Gladys directly below us in the ground flat.   Across from the Watt's were the Campbell family, John (Bummer) & Jennie, their sons 'Henny' Peter, Willie, John & Joseph and a daughter Joanne their youngest.    I can't remember who lived above the Campbell's on their side of the building,  both on our and the top flat.

The next close at 35 Tharsis Street lived the McQueen's on the ground flat left,  I remember two sons John and Archie,  the Carter's above them (through the wall from us) I remember the son Hughie, the Collins above them (I think one of the Collins boys was convicted of murder).  The only other family I remember in this close was the McKenna's.   One of the boys I believe played professional football with Aberdeen.  Across the street at No 26 on the top flat was the McNeilly's.   Margaret a daughter was in my class at school.   I was reminded recently that as a young teenager I had a crush on Margaret and had given her a powder compact which I am told she still has today.   Joe McLaughlin (no relation) a pal lived top flat at number 28.

My 'normal boundaries' as a wee boy were Roystonhill behind Tharsis Street, up the street, down Rhymer Street to Gadshill Street then down Gadshill to Royston Road and both sides of Royston Road between Gadshill Street and Blochairn Road although sometimes, I was a bit more adventurous and travelled further afield.

At the bottom of Tharsis Street on one corner, as you would turn towards Blochairn Road, our side of Royston Road was McGregor's General Store a double shop.   I can remember near McGregor's was Hughes the Undertaker, then I think Owen Melley's Newsagents and at the corner of the 'old tenement building'  (early century) before the 'copper work' was Louis Daly the cobbler.   Louis used to mend our shoes and I was fascinated by the way he held nails in his mouth before hammering them into the new sole on your shoe with a large file.   I never saw him use a hammer.  Beyond the 'old' building was a piece of waste ground then the boundary wall of the copper work.   The copper work extended out to Dunolly Street, up to Royston Hill then back towards the waste ground which at Roystonhill was opposite Rosemount Street.   After the copper work, Dunolly Street, St. Roch's Church (The Chapel), the 'League' hall (St. Roch's Church Billiard hall), I think another church then Blochairn Road.

On the other side of the road opposite Blochairn Road, the bowling green, then going back in Royston Road, Clare Street, the Chapel House (St. Roch's), Janitor's house then St. Roch's Primary, Brodick Street, The Swings, Garnock Street with the 'polis' box at the corner and the 'Steamie', tenement buildings on 'the road'  broken by Cobden Street, Bright Street where my Granny (Gracie) use to stay, Villiers Street and Turner Street then a tenement before Cameron's Stable opposite Gadshill Street.

Coming back in the Road from Gadshill Street was St. Rollox's Primary School, the 'Hibs' hall, (now the Royston Social Club) Provanhill  Street a 'new' (1930's) building   There was a small street, I  think it was called Middleton Street.   My father used to tell me that when the McLaughlin's moved into the Garngad, he and some of his brothers when they were young, sold fish from a barra at this corner.   An old tenement with shops below stretched from hear with 'Ures' dairy (shop) at the end,  then another 'new' building, the other part of Provanhill Street, an other new building then the old tenement before Tharsis Street.    On this  corner of Tharsis Street going towards the town was Hughes's Pub (I worked there at weekends when I was 21) and nearby, a fish and chip shop run by Guy Bonaccorsi then a shop that did electrical repairs.   Across the road facing Tharsis Street was Ralph Ferrie's café.   His granddaughter Maria was in my class at St. Roch's.   The Barber Pisicanni was nearby.   There were other shops of course on both sides of the 'road'  but these are the ones I remember best of all. 

I was educated at St. Roch's Primary School and St. Mungo's Academy, I left school at 15, was keen to be a Tailor's cutter and was employed at a factory in Ingram Street until I was 18 when I had to go into the Army (The Black Watch) to do my National Service.    After completing my National Service, I returned to the factory I was working in for a short period, the firm went bankrupt, I moved to another firm by the same name at the same address, then to the Co-operative in Shieldhall.   I didn't get on with the foreman there so I moved to a clothing Firm in Bridgeton.   I realised that the clothing trade was heading for some lean times so I joined the City of Glasgow Police.    I served in the Police, City of Glasgow then with Strathclyde and retired in March 1989.

My earliest recollections, in the 40's, before I really became a teenager, in no particular order were as follows.    I remember as a wee boy during the war of an air raid in Glasgow, sirens wailing away and all of us being encouraged to leave the house and go to the air raid shelters that were in the back courts between Tharsis Street and Roystonhill. My father (big Robey) had apparently consumed and inordinate amount of alcohol and was 'taking a nap' on the kitchen floor.   Despite my mother shouting at me I refused to leave.   I think my exact words were "A'm no leaving ma da" and sobbed over his prostrate body as my mother, Harry and Betty went to the shelter.   It wasn't much of an air raid but I did find some shrapnel in the back court a short time afterwards.

Before the war ended, my brother Harry left school at 14, got a job with Collins the book publisher in St. James Road and, on his first day at work, he was operating a lift when he had his thumb severed, I think on his right hand.   He would have lost a finger too but for the skill of the surgeons at the Royal Infirmary.  Harry did not enjoy good health after that.

I remember VE day in 1945.   Flags and bunting were stretched across  Tharsis Street.  I was hanging out the window with my mother and people were dancing and singing  in the street.   I was laughing  and cheering, at everybody enjoying themselves.

Shortly after the war, my mother took Betty and me on a holiday to Ireland.   We stayed with relatives on my father's side in Derry (Londonderry) in Northern Ireland.   During our stay we went on a trip  to Buncranna, in County Donegal, across the border into the Irish 'Free State'.  We visited my Great Granny in a small cottage on the family farm.  Big Robey spent some of his early years there.   My Great Granny was reputed to be 99 years of age (she died three years later) and when we saw her, she was sitting in a rocking chair smoking a clay pipe with a walking stick in her hand.   Whenever any of the children went near her (there were other children there visiting the great one) she would try to hit them with her walking stick.  'What a vicious old wummin'.   When we went back to Derry, because of the shortage of butter in the U.K. during the war, (it was plentiful in the 'Free State') my mother bought and stuffed some  down my shirt and some down Betty's blouse.   She also was'carrying' some of the precious cargo herself.  It was an offence to bring goods of this nature back into the U.K. without paying duty.    Can you imagine the headlines in the paper today if we were caught, "Master Smuggler Wee Beenie and her weans, intercepted at the border, 5½ pounds of quality Irish butter seized by customs officers.  All the people on the 'bus we were travelling on could have been arrested.   I have never seen so many wee wummin' with enormous bosoms.

I was then ill with Diphtheria and was sent to Ruchhill Hospital.   I should have been in for a maximum of 6 weeks but I am afraid I was a bit of a terror in the ward.    I used to get out of bed and pull the pillows away from the other patients, some of whom were grown men.  I took paralysis of the throat and was in hospital for a total of 16 weeks.   I missed 4 months of schooling.   It was while I was in hospital that Rangers played the Russian football team Moscow Dynamo  and drew 1 each.

Playing fitba' and kick the can in the street, was great entertainment and 'getting a hudgie' (hanging on to the back of a lorry) was very exciting if not dangerous.  The polis were inclined, sometimes to turn a blind eye to the street games but some of them were not too happy when they saw you hanging from the back of a lorry.   Occasionally, you  heard an angry "I'll kick your erse and you won't sit down for a month if ah get ye"  ringing in your ear.

Hanging on to and getting a free ride on a tram car was great fun as they 'shoogled' down the road, coming from Provanmill, destination Polmadie.   You held on to the back rail with one foot on the entrance step and jumped off, if and when the conductress saw and shouted at you.  Sometimes to avoid being seen you would crouch down in almost a sitting position with your foot braced against the back end of the entrance step, half hiding your body behind the back of the car. Your back-side was parallel to and not very far from the ground.   The same old polis, "Ye'll scrape yer erse along the grun' wan o' these days".

Cameron's stable was a great attraction.   Some of the 'cairters', the 'pilots' of these horse drawn, (Clydesdales?)  pulling a longish platform cart would occasionally let you sit beside them and travel with them down to the High Street to pick up and deposit, I think beer barrels.   Sometimes they let you hold the horse's reins.   The journey back up the High Street, Castle Street, turning right into Charles Street, then up the cobbled street with smooth, twin tracks,  the width of the cart's wheels  up to the stable's entrance, for a 'shoogleless ride' was exciting.  We were heading for home.

When there was a heavy fall of snow, the waste ground beside the copper work, stretching from Roystonhill down to 'the road' was marvellous for sledging.   It was however a bit stony with some large rocks jutting up from ground.  I employed two methods on my (or borrowed) sledge, sitting astride or lying flat on my stomach, using feet both for steering and braking.   I preferred the lying flat on stomach method although it was slightly more dangerous.   Being so near the ground created an impression  that you were travelling much faster than  you thought.  I still have scars on my hands, after cuts caused by rocks on this waste ground.  

'The Clabber' was something else  we enjoyed.   The 'clabber' singing and entertaining, usually female 'windie hingers' both sides of Tharsis Street.   A group of the pals, boys and girls would get together in the back courts, using God's good earth as a stage, sometimes muddy, (hence the 'clabber') and belt out our songs.   'Mammy', 'red red robin', 'Swanee, how ah love ya, how ah love ya' were favourites.   We gave the Jolson songs 'laldy'.

I loved the 'pictures'.   I was an avid cinemagoer with the local Carlton and Casino in Castle Street nearby. (Now the site of the Townhead  Interchange of the M8 motorway).  I remember one day Joe McLaughlin and I skipped' into the Carlton.  We did not know what was on.   We sat down, relaxed then screamed and ran for our lives, terrified and frightened out of our wits.   The film that was showing was Frakenstein.   The moment the monster appeared on the screen that was it.   Woosh!  We nearly burst the exit door off its hinges..   

There were other cinemas of course that I went to during my growing up years, The Grafton in Parliamentary Road, the St. Jame's (the buggy) down St. James Road, into town for The Playhouse, The Regent, The Odeon (still there) and the Cranston De Luxe in Renfield Street, the Picturehouse, the La Scala and Regal in Sauchiehall Street, The New Savoy in Hope Street.   In Dennistoun there was the Dennistoun, the Parade, the Park Cinema and out in Riddrie, the Rex and the Riddrie, all visited.