My Life As A Miner at North Skelton Pit
by Bill Templeman
I was born in 1917 and on leaving
school I applied for a job at Loftus Co-Op as a cobbler’s
assistant, but unfortunately for me, the manager’s son got
the job. As there was very little work available at the time, my
next objective was to try to find work at the Mine.
The manager then was Mr Bill Morley. I was frightened to death of
him, as was everyone else he came into contact with! He had a
voice like thunder and in those days, men like that were masters
of all they surveyed. There were Tom Ransom, Jack Forbes and R
Dunstan who were all ‘overmen’ – you daren’t
put a foot wrong or else you got the sack.
I will never forget going into the office for my interview with
Mr Morley – he bellowed at me, “There aren’t any
jobs left for yer! What did yer say they called yer?”
I replied with a trembling voice, “Bill Templeman,
sir!”
“TEMPLEMAN!” he shouted, “the bloody pit’s
full of Templeman’s!” After a short pause he said,
“Yer can start on Monday and don’t be late!”
I started at the pit as a ‘shover-round’, pushing tubs
into different shunts which was really hard work for such a
little lad like me – I was 14 years old, it was 1931 and for
5 shifts I received the princely sum of 5 shillings and 4 pence
(27p).
I eventually progressed to ‘driving horses’. We had 109
horses down the pit and I was in charge of 4 of them – they
were really good mates. We had names for them all, mine were
‘Nimbus’, ‘Sam’, ‘Dover’ and
‘Una’. They were beautiful animals and I honestly loved
them all. I would take them apples and pies from home for a treat
and they repaid me with all their hard work. Mind you, when they
were straining to pull the tubs back onto the tracks they would
often break wind so we’d run straight for cover!
My next job was at the pit bottom running full tubs into the
cages. I’d like to point out that we only got a 15 minute
break for our ‘bait’ (packed lunch) in those days.
‘Buck’ (Alf) Templeman was in charge at the pit bottom
and he was a very conscientious worker.
When World War II was declared, being with the 4th Battalion,
Green Howards Territorials I was immediately called up. I was 22
years old and ‘Ma’ (Harriet) was expecting a baby at
the time. The shock of finding out that two of her sons, me and
George, had to go to war started her into labour! My sister,
Cynthia, was born that very same day, 3rd September 1939.
Both George and I were sent to Moreton-in-Marsh and were then
transferred to France at Christmas. I returned from Dunkirk to
find out I shouldn’t have been sent in the first place as my
job was a ‘reserved occupation’. George was in the same
position as me but, unfortunately, he was taken prisoner and
remained in Germany for the rest of the war.
When I returned to work at the Mine again Mr Wells, the manager
at the time, said he was pleased to have me back. When some
mechanical loaders came I was told I could learn to drive one. It
was hard graft and you had to fill 100 tubs per day to earn a
decent wage for your team of 4 men – 1 ‘hogger
man’ (air line controller), 2 drillers and myself, the
loader driver. Andrew Turnbull was the under-manager at that time
and one of his many sayings was, “Now come on Bill, give it
some bloody hammer, it hasn’t got a mother and father yer
know!” When he got frustrated, which was on many occasions,
he would throw whatever he had in his hands at the time up into
the old workings and then he would have to go and retrieve them
– it takes a bit of working out why he did it.
Then in 1954 I was severely crushed by a roof-fall. I suffered a
smashed pelvis and internal injuries which kept me in hospital
for 19 weeks. When I eventually returned to work I was given
‘light duties’. I was sent into the lamp cabin
repairing lamps until I recovered sufficiently to go back down
the mine where I then learned to drive small haulage engines. I
finished up driving the pit-bottom winding engine which had 4 big
drums – 2 east and 2 west – which controlled the entire
pit. I continued with this job until the very sad day in 1964
when North Skelton Mine finally closed down. I was given the
princely sum of £100 for my services, hard work and suffering.
They were the good old days – or so they say.
But the mine was a source for character building – I did
meet many good friends and was proud to be part of it all. Our
‘mine chatter’ would spill over into our recreation
time, much of which was spent at North Skelton Institute (the
‘Tute). They were happy days of which I have very fond
memories.
Bill Templeman, Easington