RICHARD'S STORY

1930

Now it is time to welcome the year 1930 and soon it will be my birthday and I will be eight years old, and I will have another six years before I am old enough to leave school and go out to earn some money for my Mum.  Time passes rather slowly, some boys leave the school and new ones arrive, and apart from this nothing much happens at all.

The weather is cold so we can't go out to play, but we are nice and cosy in the playroom.  Sometimes we would like to go outside but we have to do as we are told else we are punished and lose marks or have our playtime stopped for a time.

Each Monday morning after breakfast and before we go into class the tailor, Mr Hotson, inspects our clothes and if you have a tear or a button missing that item of clothing is put into a large laundry basket which is pushed along by one of the boys who works in the tailor's shop, and taken to be repaired ready for you to collect it at dinnertime (if it is your trousers that need repair you are issued with a makeshift pair until your own come back!).  We know which are our own clothes because they are all numbered.

Mr Hotson the tailor is nearly six feet tall and he must weigh at least seventeen stone.  If he catches us talking on parade he takes hold of your ear between his thumb and finger and rubs your ear lobe, his fingers are so rough he takes the skin off your ear.  Sometimes he "knees" you in the back so that you fall forward onto the boy in front of you, or he bangs two boys heads together.  In spite of this he is an understanding man and some of the boys make fun of him because he is so fat.

Every Tuesday morning the Headmaster looks at every boy’s hair and picks out six that need a haircut.  They go to Ashford to the school barber to have their hair cut and they don’t get back to the school until dinnertime.  Some of the boys hunch their shoulders up when the Headmaster comes along to make it look as if their hair need cutting.  Of course there are lots of little tricks that the boys can get up to, and sometimes they get caught.  No boy ever “tells” on another, because he will get a lot of trouble from the mates of the one that he told on, so if you see someone doing wrong it is the best thing to just keep quiet.

I haven’t got many friends yet but the atmosphere among all of us is quite good, I seldom see boys fighting or arguing, and have not heard one boy call another names, apart from his proper name.  Most of the boys that talk to me call me by my surname, of course as this is Knight, I am usually “Knighty”.  The weather is still very cold and we have to stay inside a lot.  I am looking forward to the better weather and to my birthday when I will be eight years old, even though that means I will have six more years to spend at school.  At least this school and my teacher are much better than the old school in Margate. 

As time passes, more boys leave and new ones arrive, they all get the same treatment that Tom and me had, and the question “Why were you sent to Stanhope?”   Most of us are truants or have come from broken homes, one or two are at Stanhope because they stole, which is very bad. I make more friends as time goes by and join in with some of the games, or we sit and talk or chase each other about.  I do think about my family and wonder how they all are.

And so today is the day I have been looking forward to for so long – it is my birthday.  There is no birthday card from home, so perhaps Mum has had no money to buy one.  I am feeling a little sad but then two of my friends grab hold of me and bump me eight times and I am glad I am not any older as eight bumps on the floor was quite enough.  So we have a good laugh and then the whistle blows to fall in and wait for the Headmaster to inspect us before we go to class or to work in the garden or workshops. 

Spring seems a long way off but perhaps the weather will get better in March.  Each year there are twelve allotments for some of the boys to look after.  Two boys are picked to look after each one and a prize is given to the boys who are judged to have the best allotment.  Seeds are provided by the school and the gardener gives help and advice.  Some boys hope they are not chosen to have an allotment and others hope that they are.  I am too small and too young to be picked.

Some of the older boys are allowed to play billiards and a lot of us go to watch.  I have never seen this game before, and I can’t see very much anyway because I am not tall enough.  I hope I can learn to play when I am bigger.

The routine goes on much the same each day, and at the end of the month I have not been reported for anything and so I will have earned full marks which is seventy each week.  This is the maximum you can earn.  I have also earned seven pence, which is also the maximum allowed.  The money is put into the school bank to have when we leave, so if I behave myself all the time I am here I will have a nice lot of money saved to take home to my Mum.  If Tom does as well we will take enough home to make things better there.  Of course, Tom will leave school before me and will be at work for a long time before I leave here.

The weather is getting better and we look forward to being able to play outside and perhaps have a ball to kick around.  We can’t do this indoors because of the glass.  The top half of the tailor’s shop is all made of glass and the front of it as long as the playroom is wide. 

Tom and me have a letter from home – the address on the letter is not the same as on the last one, and the Headmaster, Mr Steele, asks Tom and me if our parents move house very often and when we say “Yes, Sir” he asks us why and we tell him that our Mum is unable to keep up the rent and so they have to move.  We have a new sister who Mum has named Jean Mary.  She is growing fast and will soon have her first tooth and start to crawl.

Easter is coming and that should mean a holiday from school but we have to earn one thousand and ninety eight marks in a year before we are allowed to go and our parents have to send your return fare, then you will be allowed to go home for one week.  Tom and me have not been here long enough to earn enough marks and it is most unlikely that Mum would be able to send the fare anyway, and so we will not be going home this year and must hope to go next year instead.  Some of the boys that are going home for Easter say it will be the last time that they go for a holiday because they will have left school before the next Easter comes around, and how I envy them being able to leave and go to work.

So the boys that are going off on holiday set off for Ashford railway station and of course they are all very happy to be going.  My friend “Number 48” is not going and to me that is good news. He says “Never mind, perhaps next year will be our lucky year”.  Soon the others will be back at Stanhope and will tell us about the outside world that we hear nothing of.  I wonder if there is more work available now and if that means my Dad will get a job and pay the rent and buy some food, but I suppose he would not be well enough to work anyway.

Today the boys return from holiday and that is the end of Easter and time to go back to lessons.  Now some of the boys are back from holiday it is time to gather round and be told of how they enjoyed their holiday and what is happening outside, we are rather jealous that we did not go on holiday, but we are told how the world is and that the work situation is not much better now than what it was when Tom and me first came to Stanhope. Eventually all the boys are back and things are normal again. 

We can now spend a lot of time outside, and rumours are going round that we will soon be cleaning out the swimming pool.  It seems that this is quite an event, and an even bigger event when it has been cleaned out and it is time to refill it. When the day comes to clean the swimming pool, some of the boys are handed very hard brooms, and some are handed shovels, and away we go.  The swimming pool has been emptied ready, it is very large and very deep at one end, the other end is shallow and has steps down into it.  The boys with the brooms start sweeping, when they have gone part way down the pool they are told to stop while the boys with the shovels pick up the mess, it is very surprising how much filth there is, a lot of it has come from the trees that hide three sides of the pool.  At the fourth edge of the pool is a hedge, which is at the top of some of the staff cottages and a pathway.  After the pool has all been cleaned out some of it has to be painted.  The taller of the boys are given the job of painting, and soon it is done.  We are told that it will be two weeks before it is filled.  I can’t swim, but hope that I will be able to learn when we can use the pool.

Some more boys leave and are replaced, when the new boys come I remember when I came and realise that I don’t cry for my Mum much anymore, right now I am far too interested in the swimming pool and learning to swim to think about home very much.

When the day comes to fill the pool we are all on parade waiting for the Headmaster and when he arrives we have to go to the swimming pool.  The Headmaster turns a very big wheel and the water gushes out of some pipes and starts to fill the pool, and we all give three cheers.  Now all we have to do is wait for the pool to fill up and for the weather to warm up and then I can get in the pool and have some fun!  I must remember not to go too far from the steps at the shallow end because of the depth of the water.

My brother and me have another letter come from home, but the address has changed again and the Headmaster asks us about it again.  Time is passing slowly, and then we are told that another of our brothers is being sent to Stanhope, and in due course, on the 23rd June 1930, our brother Joe arrives.  After he arrives and has his bath and everything is over, we manage to get together and ask him why he has been sent.  He says that he wouldn’t go to school and he had stolen some potatoes for some tramps, who gave him one when it was cooked!  Joe has not got much news from home apart from the fact that Mum has moved house again, and now they have moved to Westgate.  Because Joe is older than either Tom or me he will be the first of us to leave Stanhope, when he is fourteen years old.

The weather is getting better now and soon we will be using the swimming pool.  One of the boys asks me if I can swim, and he is surprised that I can’t because I come from the seaside.  He says that Mr Neat will teach me to swim.  So the day arrives to start using the pool.  Mr Neat has a very long, thick pole with a sling at the end and he tells me to get in it and he fastens a strap around my chest under the arms.  He tells me to kick with my legs like a frog and I feel very safe and very clever until he loosens his hold on the pole and I start to sink!  Of course, he pulls me up again, but all too soon the whistle blows for the end of the swimming lesson and we have to get out and go back to the playroom, supper and bed. 

It is still light when we go to bed now and it does not seem right to have to go to bed when we could still be outside.  Some of the boys leave, fresh ones come, but otherwise the routine is much the same each day.  Some of the senior boys are talking of going on a camping holiday, this sounds very nice, and it is something me and my brothers have never done before.  It does not sound as if it is quite like we imagined at first as we will not have to put up tents.  We still have a little time to wait before the camping as it is going to take place halfway through the summer holiday.  Time passes a little bit quicker now as we have more to do in the summer weather as we can use the swimming pool and play cricket. 

When the day comes to start the camping holiday we wait for a whistle which tells us to stand still and wait to be told to “Fall In”.  After this the Headmaster comes into the playroom and tells us that we will be going to Dymchurch Holiday Camp and he hopes that we have a good holiday.  He tells us that we will be given a little spending money each day, and after that we march off down to Ashford Station.  I am the smallest boy and march on the outside of the leading four (we always march in rows of four) until we reach the station.  There is a reserved train there waiting for us, and the people standing waiting for their trains seem to resent us being given priority over them when they had been at the station first.  Once we are all aboard the train it sets off and some of the boys start to sing the Stanhope Song.  Some of us do not know the words so we sit and listen, but the words and the tune are quite easy to pick up and soon we can join in.

We arrive at Dymchurch Station and form fours again and march off to the camp site.  It is a very large place and some of the buildings are occupied by schools which are similar to Stanhope, it is obvious that Dymchurch Holiday Camp is very popular not only for schools as there are some caravans and tents here as well.  We are not allowed to mix or talk to strangers, but few people take any notice of us.  It would appear that a lot of the people that are here make it their holiday place every year.  We are all given our hut number and we find the toilet and wash area, but some of the boys are waiting for the farm manager and one boy to arrive with the officer’s luggage which is being brought down by the school’s own horse and cart. The boys have got a large metal wash basin each with water in it for the pony or “town horse” as it is sometimes called.  One of the boys spots the horse and cart coming along the road and we are all glad when it pulls into the camp site; the pony is very thirsty, and well it should be the miles it has had to come pulling a loaded cart.  Anyway, the farm manager feeds the horse and after some rest it is time for them to start the long journey back to Stanhope.  It will take them a long time to get there, but at least the cart is empty for the horse to pull back.

It is now dinnertime, but nobody seems very hungry; we are all waiting to see what happens after dinner, and hoping that we are not gong to have to stay on the camp site all the time.  After dinner we are all called to parade and each of us is given sixpence, and we are going down on to the beach.  On the way down to the beach there is a small sweet shop, and anybody who wants to spend his pocket money there can do so.  It is a wonder that the shopkeeper has enough sweets to serve us all, but we all get something and eventually we cross the road and arrive at the beach which is very different from Margate.  Margate beach is all sand, but Dymchurch is all pebbles, and it is a good job that we all have strong boots to wear.  We are allowed to take our boots and socks off to paddle and we are wondering what we are to do with our boots and socks until one of the senior boys shows us how to tie our laces together and hang them round our neck.  A lot of us go into the water to paddle, but there are holidaymakers on the beach as well and one of them complains about a boy to the officer in charge; the boy gets the blame for whatever has happened and we all have to come out of the water and march back to camp.  Soon it is dinnertime and we find that the food is much the same as at Stanhope.  After dinner we are not allowed off the camp site and have to make our own amusements. 

We have brought quite a lot of sports equipment and so we are able to play cricket and football.  We think that it is a pity that we are not allowed to mix with the boys from the other schools, but this is so that we do not go into the other school’s buildings.  So teatime arrives, and like dinner, this is the same as at Stanhope, in fact the biggest difference between Camp and School is having pocket money every day.

When the day comes to an end and it is time for bed we find that our beds are a strip of canvas fastened onto some wood which is very close to the floor, we are a bit dubious about getting into these strange beds, and some of us wonder about spiders and insects crawling in with us in the night.  But we are soon all asleep, at least until time for our trip to the toilet, which is out of our hut and across a small area of grass. When we get back, some other boy is mistakenly in my bed and it takes one of the prefects to sort it out.  The other boy has got a wet nightshirt, and I think he must have got into my dry bed because he had wet his own. 

Morning soon comes and although there is no half past six bell we still have to get up at the same time, and follow the same routine as at Stanhope.  There is a rumour that we are going to have a ride on the miniature railway, but no date has been set, and a lot of us have not even seen the railway. Each day passes in going to the beach in the morning and playing games on the campsite in the afternoon until the last day but one of the holiday and at last we are told that we are going on the miniature railway.  In the afternoon we are marched down to the station and the train arrives for us.  No-one else is allowed to get on because it has been reserved for Stanhope School.  We all get on and wonder if the engine is going to be strong enough to pull all the loaded carriages, but away we go and we have a wonderful afternoon, getting back to camp in time for tea.  Time passes very quickly here as we are enjoying ourselves. 

We go to bed very tired each night and fall fast asleep, but after we have been woken and sent across the grass to the toilet we come back very wide awake from walking in the long wet grass, which is not easy in a nightshirt!  If we lie awake talking the duty officer comes in and tells us to be quiet, but then he says “Goodnight!” and turns the light out.  Morning soon comes and we are woken by a boy from one of the other schools blowing a bugle which is the sign to get up.

We have had lovely weather for our holiday and really enjoyed it but some of the boys seem to be looking forward to going back to Stanhope where we have more to do.  So once again, the horse and cart come down from the school and we are waiting to give the thirsty horse a drink before it takes the officer’s cases and trunks back to the school.  We fall in and march to Dymchurch Station, and soon we are on our way back to Ashford, singing the school song as we go along.  I am on the outside of the front row on the march back from Ashford Station to Stanhope, which takes nearly an hour, and we are all glad to be back in time for tea.  We think the bread here, which is made at the school, tastes a lot better than the food we had at Dymchurch!  So our holiday is over and the next event for us will be Christmas, so we settle back into our usual routine and each day brings the winter closer.

On Monday, we start our lessons again, my first lesson is arithmetic, one piece of good news is that I have been moved up one “standard” and so I must be improving. Arithmetic is not my best subject, I am much better at writing, and I can also read a lot better now.  This is thanks to Mr Neat, who is a very good teacher and a very patient man who is always ready to help you to learn.

So the days pass all much the same, and it is nearing Joe’s birthday, the 30th October, which means he will be twelve years old and will only have two years more at Stanhope, I don’t think this is very fair because he came to Stanhope after me and Tom and yet he will be the first of us to leave.  When Joe’s birthday arrives he has not only a card but also a nice letter from Mum, some of the news is good and some of it is bad.  Our father is not at all well and Mum’s leg is very painful and she is having to change the bandages very often as it is weeping badly.  She says that now the days are shorter and the weather colder, most of the holidaymakers have gone and Margate seems almost empty.  This makes getting about, especially with a pram, much easier.

The evenings are getting quite long now and it is hard to find different things to do.  We play at flicking cigarette cards and at five stones. Some of the boys are very bad losers, one boy even threw one of the five stones away when he lost, and this caused trouble with the boy whose game it was in the first place and some of the other boys joined in the quarrel and the officer put them all on report.  This meant they lost valuable marks which could make all the difference as to whether they have enough marks to be allowed to go home on holiday next Easter.  It is almost certain Tom, Joe and me will not be going because your parents have to send your train fare and we suppose there is still not enough  money at home to send for us all.  We wonder if Aunt Emily would lend the money to Mum, but it would be a lot of money and we don’t know if Mum would be able to pay it back. Still, this is all a long way off, we are still looking forward to Christmas. 

Christmas here is very different from at home, but we think that there may be a bit better Christmas for our family at home because three of us are here and that is three less mouths to feed at home.  Here at Stanhope there are 150 boys to be looked after, and we are looked after very well, of course we must all behave, at Stanhope right is right and wrong is wrong and there is nothing in between.  Some of the boys do not take to the discipline at all, but whilst I have been here no one has been very badly punished, the worst that has happened is that they have had the cane or the towse, and this does not happen very often.

Christmas time eventually arrives and the holly is brought in and stitched into garlands to hang across the rooms.  We are all waiting to see if there are any cards or presents from home.  We hope that Mum will send us a card, even if it is only one between the three of us, but we know there is no chance of any presents.  The cards are handed out and our names are not called, but at least we are not the only ones not to receive a card, and very few of the boys get a present.  We are disappointed, but look forward to our Christmas Dinner which will be the best meal of the year. 

Some of the boys have tipped water onto the playground to freeze into a slide, it stretches from the boiler house to the farm entrance.  It is great fun to slide along it, but the studs and toe specks in our boots will wear out and the cobbler will have a busy time replacing them.  The cobbler’s name is Mr Laird.  He is a big man and his workshop is full of boots and large pieces of leather, it is rather dark and smelly in the workshop but he manages to keep our boots in very good order.

Joe is to be part of the after dinner entertainment this year.  He is in an act with the Headmaster, and some of the officers are to put on another act, and we have been told that there is a magician coming to do some magic for us.

Now Christmas Day itself has arrived and we are woken up as usual by the half past six bell.  The morning drags by until dinnertime but then we go into our classrooms where the partitions have been drawn back and the paper chains and holly hung up.  In the Head Teacher’s class the ceiling is covered with pieces of blotting paper soaked in ink which looks as it has been “flicked” up on to the ceiling with a ruler, but strangely, none of it has fallen down!

Now Mr Hooper comes in with the huge leg of pork for Christmas Dinner and we all have a lovely meal, followed by the flaming Christmas Pudding, and we then go into the playroom for a while, too full to do very much at all. Teatime comes around, but we do not have any Christmas Cake and are soon back in the playroom waiting for the entertainment to start in the dining room. 

The show starts with the Headmaster and his wife singing a duet, the title of the song is “No, John, No!”.  We did not know that the Headmaster could sing so well.  Then the Headmaster is helped by our brother Joe.  They carry out this sort of trickery about a white man tricking a black boy out of some eggs; the black boy of course is Joe with his face blackened and his Stage Name is Sambo.  The evening is finished by a magician showing us how to make a cigarette move up and down in a bottle and one or two other tricks, and then the show comes to an end with everyone singing the National Anthem.