“Dead,” cries the beautiful lady, from far, far down below,  “Dead. And never called me Mother,”  A curtain falls, and all the women around me are crying, some very loudly, my own mother gently sobbing into her handkerchief.  I am perplexed.  The year is nineteen-twenty six, I am only three years old, but the memory of that awesome night has stayed with me for the past seventy-odd years.
We were sitting up in the Gods, or Gallery, to give it its proper name Mother had taken me with her to see the play  ‘East Lynne,’ A Very early tear-jerker at the Theatre Royal, known locally as ‘The Gaff.’  This was in the days before the radio, or talking pictures, and television was not even a word in the dictionary. The most popular entertainment available to the working classes was the theatre.  I also remember it taking ages for us to descend the stairs and, once outside, the thronging crowd seemingly unwilling to go home but standing around the gas lit streets and talking.
 Coming from a very poor family, as did most of the people of Seaham in those days, I never got the chance to go to the theatre again for ten years.  Although live plays had long been superseded by the movies, the crowds, as in my earlier childhood had not ceased to dwindle and every night would see queues forming at the ticket office.  On this occasion, the film was ‘Little Lord Fauntelroy’, and once again I was up in the Gods.  At fourpence, these were the cheapest seats in the house, although as I recollect there were no seats, just planks of wood fixed to the front edge of the steep concrete steps.  However, as it was often said at the time, we saw the same picture as the snobs down below.
 The next chance I got to go to ‘The Gaff’’ was at Xmas time when the owner-manager,  Mr Harrision, had put on a special children’s matinee and entrance was free.  Though the program matter escapes me I certainly do remember the noise created by the jam-packed house-full of kids.  After the show, as we descended those never-ending stairs we were met on each landing by an usherette who would dole out to each of us an apple, then an orange then a packet of toffees.  For many years after that day I  had felt the urge to thank Mr  Harrison for his generosity, but alas never got round to doing so.  I wonder if anyone in this world of selfishness today would ever give a thought to handing out happiness as freely as that truly great citizen of Seaham.
 Leaving school at the age of fourteen, the majority of boys would drift into the main occupation of the area, the coal mines, and Saturday night would bring the rewards for a week’s labour among the dust and dirt, deep, deep, down in the bowels of the earth.  My own occupation was as a trapper, this was the boy who sits behind a door listening for the approach of a horse-drawn string of coal tubs and pulling on the rope which opened the door to allow passage.  Pocket money for the week was one shilling and this would allow me to buy from the ‘Penny-a-quarter Shop’ in South Terrace, a quarter pound of toffees and entrance to the stalls at the Gaff which was at the time, sixpence.  
This, I had considered, was really living.  How I remember those films, ‘Stella Dallas,’ with Barbara Stanwick, ‘King Kong’ with Fay Wray, ‘Prisoner of Zenda’ with Ronald Colman, and of course the perennial serials with their ‘continued next week’ motif.  It seems odd that we could be thoroughly entertained by stories of love, thrills and adventure without the sex and violence deemed necessary in entertainment today.
 Courting days would call for seats in the circle.  Here one would strive to been seen with pride, (a) showing of a pretty girl friend and (b) boasting at being able to afford the best seats.  This really was the posh area, price ninepence, and with the back of one’s head level with the knees of the row behind, a slight twist of the neck would often reveal what the film censor would never allow to be shown on the screen.  And speaking of the screen, it was while sitting in one of the side seats of the circle that I discovered the steep angle of the screen.  With the projector housed way up at the back of the Gods it was necessary to tilt the screen back at a very great angle, something I never noticed before, one could well wonder how those galloping cowboys didn’t slide off and into the band pit.  
 Those cowboys, personal friends from a long gone past.  Each with his own particular way of dealing with the villains.  Gene Autry with his guitar, Hopalong Cassidy, who would never shoot a man in the back and Roy Rogers who would sing a sinner into submission.  Oh there were many more that have gallopped off into their final sunset and  I suppose other old-timers like myself will have their own favourites.
 And those leading ladies, each a personal sweetheart to be idolised in the privacy of a young man’s mind, Jean  Harlow, Ava Gardner,  Mirna Loy, Alice Fay, the list goes on.
 Those singing stars, Deanna Durban, Gloria Jean, Jeanette Macdonal and Nelson Eddie.  It was here that I was introduced to the talent of George Formby and Gracie Fields.
 And who could ever forget the child stars, Shirley Temple, singing and dancing Margaret O’Brien always ready to burst into tears, Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, in the Andy Hardy series, Freddy Bartholemew, as little David Copperfield, Jackie Coogen, and Elizabeth Taylor?
 Then with ‘ The Robe,’ who would believe The Gaff would be one of the first theatres to introduce Cinemascope, the latest advent in film presentation, the formula still used today.  Alas, with the arrival of television, even this new gimmick failed to stop the drift away from the age-old tradition of ‘ Going to The Gaff’, and after trying to woo audiences with a return to live stage shows albeit in the form of Bingo, sadly the doors were  closed never to be re-open, and the beautiful art deco of this wonderful emporium was reduced to a small concrete box calling itself a supermarket.  Sheer vandalism, for where in the world could anyone be found to reproduce the ornate plasterwork and brass fittings that bedecked that grand old dame at a cost affordable to the owner of a pub as was J.C. Harrison?
 And so one more old tradition has been banished along with the circus, the drama, musical comedy, ballet and even the  boxing booth.  All gone into the little box that sits in the loungeroom of every home in the country, which, like the Pied Piper has whisked away, not only the children but the entire population, depriving the newer- generations of the wonderful experience e of a Saturday night a the Gaff.

Tom's Terrible Tales - "One Mean Critter"
Learning to ride a bicycle is not easy, even more so when you can not get your leg over the crossbar. Corralled in the field at the bottom of Daphne Crescent, was a horse named Boy? He was a nasty piece of work, biting, kicking, stampeding, etc. This, was one of the meanest critters, you could ever encounter. 
After having been helped onto a bicycle at the top of the street, the machine was pushed until I had gained momentum. Laughing like a banshee, I hurtled down the street ‘proud as Punch’. When I had almost reached the bend at the bottom of the bank, realisation dawned; I had 
not practised the manoeuvre, and had no idea how to turn a corner. With a sense of total abandonment, the only thing I could do was hit the curb, then crash into the fence. Time seemed to stand still, as I was catapulted into the air. It seemed to take forever to clear the railings, and regain contact 
with terra firma by landing flat of my back in the field. Gazing up in the air, there was no time to feel sorry for myself, not with a mad horse's dribbling mouth, barely six inches from my face. Boy, must have been even more confused than I was. I managed to clamber back over the five feet stockade, before he even moved.

Nobby Hall's Harbour hallucinations (2) - "Heaving Breasts Nobby?"
I attended Seaham Secondary Modern from 1951-1955, though it was always known as the Seaham Intermediate School, or the "Siss." It is now a nursing home. I have no idea how it came to be either intermediate or modern, because it was neither!
I was always in the "A" class, and can recall some really good teachers. Many of them were ex-servicemen returned from the recent war. This was the early fifties and Britain was still suffering the effects of the war in many ways. Rationing was still in force on many items, and it was not unknown to get home from school only to have a ration book thrust into your hand and told to run to the "top shops" at Deneside because they had bananas or suchlike!
However, back to the teachers. I had Ron Brazier who had been a prisoner of the Japanese, though when he caned me I failed to see how I had helped the Japanese! I also had Frank Waterman, and possibly the best teacher of English there ever was, Les Hood. I had a long discussion with Les on my last visit, and I'm sure he won't mind my telling these stories. He had been an RAF Navigator on a Lancaster which was shot down in France, and once we students realised this it was open slather as to who could get Les reminiscing first! Les was fascinating! He was sheltered by French people and eventually came home, but we could waste large parts of a lesson period by getting him to show us his silk escape map which all aircrew had, plus other items of interest, like the compass from the heel of his boot.
In my last year at school, 1955, I gained a prize for English. It was a book token for the grand sum of 10/6, quite a lot of money in 1955!!The book I wanted was "The Cruel Sea" by Nicholas Monsarrat; a brilliant book, even today, and I still have my copy, but it was printed in two versions! There was what was quaintly referred to as the "Cadet" version for "younger readers," which had words like "breasts heaving" expurgated, and there was the real thing! Well I wanted the real thing, and without telling him why, I scrounged the extra 5/- from my father and bought it! Sorry Les!
Les still lives in Seaham, at least I hope he does, and I wish him all the very best for a job well done.As you can see Les, my English is "right proper".
 
 

Nobby Hall's Harbour Hallucinations (1) - Clay Pit Adventures.
Residents on the Eastlea Estate may not be aware that the area now occupied by their houses was once an open field extending from the back of the Knack Club, across to Malvern Crescent.I had an uninterrupted vista from my bedroom window of the Knack pit and timber yard!!
As I had yet to see Venice of course, I thought this was totally acceptable!
The field was used on at least one occasion by a circus because I was bitten by a huge horse (though as I was probably about five years old it was probably a Welsh pony!). I believe this area was also used by American troops during the war, as I can recall lots of uniforms and jeeps.
Shortly after the war, the Government sponsored new housing on that green field, and up popped the Pre-fabs. We thought these were very posh houses, and very modern, though to be fair the only benchmark we had was Malvern Crescent!!
Further down behind Malvern Crescent was the Knack Pit brickworks, and the infamous "clay pit" which had proved a fatal attraction more than once. The clay had been used in the brickworks, and the process of extraction had left a huge hole in the ground full of water, dead prams,and more than a few unwanted animals. It was therefore very attractive as an adventure playground! In winter it froze over and became even more attractive, and more dangerous.
There were drownings in that pond. My brush with it was more fortunate however, though potentially fatal. I had yet to start school,but can remember clearly slipping at the top of a bank and tumbling into a dry area and wacking my head on a rock at the bottom.I was carried home by a neighbour's daughter with blood pouring out of a gash on my forehead. I still have the scars!!
 
 

Tom's Terrific Tales - Swinging from the Lights (AC/DC that is).
As you will remember. During the 1974 miner strike we suffered from power cuts. Being an electrician I rigged the house up with 12v lights, running them from the car battery when we were disconnected from
the national grid. Sheila was intrigued to know how it worked. I explained that the mains worked off A.C. electric and the battery worked off D.C. electric.
One night in the Conservative club down the Harbour a group of friends are drinking around a table. You know how the conversation, late at night gets a bit risque. Sheila, returning to the table stopped the
conversation with the simple statement "Tom is A.C. D.C.". No one is interested in the truth.

Thomas S. Moreland
 
 

Tom's Terrific Tales - The Ghostly Hand at Christmas.

One bleak winter evening, very close to Christmas, a friend of ours had threatened to commit suicide. Geoff and myself were elected to search Seaham Hall dene. (This was shortly after a girl had been shot in the Hall grounds).
Why,I do not know, but we finished up looking down in the sump hole of the sewerage farm!. Upon reaching the sump there was a ghostly white hand sticking up out of the water. "Dear God" Geoff exclaimed, "he has jumped in?". I assured him that it was just an old rubber glove. "Prove it" was his quiet nervous reply. We made our way out of the sump hole and I found a stone with which to prove my point. Re-entering the sump hole I took careful aim, and tossed the stone at the glove hitting it dead centre. The fingers slowly closed around the stone, drawing it down under the mirky water (not unlike Escaliber in the lake). We didn't wait to see if the 'glove' resurfaced. As it was we did not stop till we reached the distant lights of the Vane Tempest club.
Merry Christmas,
Tom
Thomas S. Moreland
 
 

Recollections - Alan Guy in Oz.

I would be interested in hearing from any former pupils of Seaham Girls Grammar School. The youngest ex Girls Grammar School pupils must be 46 now but it always was good for the girls as they significantly outnumbered the boys in the early years of the Grammar Technical School.
I was born in 51 Queens Ave., we lived with my grandparents at the time before moving to Deneside and then the newly expanded Northlea estate. My grandfather was a deputy-overman at Seaham Colliery, my father (Alan Guy Senior) a colliery foreman at Vane Tempest and a professional musician.
(Ed. Anyone remember Alan Guy's Band?)
I moved from Seaham in 1979, lived in Grimsby and then Yarm before leaving the UK in 1990; since then we have lived in the USA, Saudi Arabia and Australia.
My recollections are many and varied, from the Scouts fields to the "boring tower" that sat off the coast for a while and junior school football derbies between Deneside and High Colliery. A most important thing to Seaham was obviously the pits, clearly the return of some heavy industry to Seaham would be fantastic
A potted history of the rise and fall of industry and the plans for the future would be of interest, my other great interest as a lad in Seaham was railways.
Regards
Alan Guy
 
 

Recollections - The Barrow Family.

Really good site. Although I'm not from Seaham myself, my dad was (Tim Barrow). His dad (George Barrow), my grandad, worked at Dawdon Colliery, he survived the Great War where he served with the Tyneside-Irish and won the MM with bar. They were a family of three sons (Tim, Adam and George) and a daughter (Peggy), who lived in Cottages Road. Later, when all the kids had left home, they lived in School Street. I have fond memories of going to 'me nanas', there was always a lovely big coal fire burning, the tastiest stotty cakes, going to the lav across the yard, always a packet of black bullets in the top drawer of the dresser - I could go on. I still get to Seaham occasionally, the last visit was to Seaham Leisure Centre where my Uncle George celebrated his golden wedding. Now I've found the site I will visit it regularly.

My grandad was at the Somme. He convalesced after the War at Seaham Hall. My dad served on H.M.S. Formidable, Royal Navy, Fleet Air Arm during the Second World War. My uncle Adam was at Dunkirk if i'm not mistaken and my uncle George served in the Royal Navy, which included the Russian convoys. I still remember the old Seaham station, the southbound side, which had a very long waiting room, gas lights and also in the winter a big fire. From Seaham station we walked across the road and over a bridge where the coal waggons used to go up and down and I remember being fascinated at the time because they didn't have any engines pulling them.
 
 

It's A Small World After All.

After reading your page and leaving a message in guest book I asked my parents to take a peak. My father saw your page on new lady mayor. He had recently been in hospital for a triple by-pass operation and one of the nurses had a geordie accent. He told her he was from Seaham and she remarked that her mum had recently been elected mayor there !We live in Perth, Western Australia, hows that for a small world ?
Bev McDougall, nee Murray, Perth, Western Australia.
 
 

Family Stories from Panama Canal.

I have been doing some family research, and I came across the Seaham Harbour page. I hope that you might be able to provide answers to some of my questions.
I still have a great aunt, Meg Williams, who resides in Seaham, but have not had any communication with her in years.
Family stories have it that my grandfather, James Robertson, helped design a golf course in the Seaham area in the 1920's. I was wondering if you know of a golf course near Seaham that could be this golf course, and I am wondering if anyone would have the history of this golf course and if there are any actual references to my grandfather's work at this golf course.
Also, Aunt Meg's husband, Tom Williams, as family stories have it, had something to do with the Seaham Council at one point. I am wondering if you have any knowledge of Tom William's work with the Seaham Council. Mr. Barratt said that you might have particular knowledge of this because you were Mayor of Seaham. I have enjoyed the Seaham pages, and enjoyed looking at the photos. Why not add a list of all the Mayors which Seaham has had.
The family is spread out all over the World, some in Canada, some in the United States, and I am in Panama. I am the Chief Engineer for the Panama Canal Commission. Quite interesting work.
I last visited Aunt Meg in Seaham in 1977. Her daughter, Sheila, is married to Bill Scott who worked for the Department of Park and Recreation for Tyne-Wear. I have not corresponded with either Aunt Meg or Sheila in ages!
I would appreciate any information you can provide me on the question of the golf course and of my Great Uncle, Tom Williams. Thanks in advance,
Ronald J. Robertson, Jr.
rrobert@pan.gbm.net
Chief Engineer, Panama Canal Commission
An Agency of the U.S. Government
 
 

Bev. McDougal and the Murrays from Murton.
Hi, I was amazed and delighted to find that Seaham has its own web site. I was born in Seaham Harbour, but moved south when I was three. My parents (terrified of the computer)have asked me to see if anyone remembers them or their families. My mother is Sylvia (nee Bell).Last address was Maureen Tce,her father John(jack)Bell was mine surveyor at Seaham Colliery and a stalwart of the golf club. My dads name is Walter Murray, from Murton, but also lived at Deneside.His father was also Walter Murray and mother Lydia worked for 40 years at the Democratic club at Murton. Any takers? They'd love to hear that someone remembered them !!Will check in again soon.
Bev McDougall (nee Murray).Perth, Western Australia.
 
 

Joe McVeigh.
My name is Joe MacVeigh and I am now a firefighter in the London Fire Brigade and have been for approximately nine years,I am a former miner and I worked at Dawdon Colliery, I have a large number of friends in Seaham still but I am not aware that any of them are users of the internet. Anyway if you wish to contact me, for whatever reason e-mail me.
Cheers.
 
 

Seaham Exile.
Regarding the Seaham page,I am delighted with it as I can get any up to date information without having to rely on making phone calls. Is there a list of somekind, of any other exiles, with the possibility of contacting each other via e-mail,etc. An individual web page is something for me to think about,I'm still fairly new to all this. Anyway regarding any tales of note I do know quite a few but I would have to censor one or two of them. Finally I noted on the Seaham page the Cricket Club mentioned I am very friendly with the Secretary, Jimmy Dyson ,if you know him and happen to see him,please give him my regards and I look forward to seeing him in the future.
Speak to you soon.
Cheers,Joe.
 
 

Where we are now !
Hello folks, I was pleased to see people from Seaham are into the Internet. I left Seaham when I was 2 but still had family connections there through my grandparents Mr. & Mrs. J. Horn from Camden Square. He was the manager of Doggarts store in Church Street. I also married a girl from Seaham 15 years ago. Here maiden name was Julie Gulliver the daughter of Gordon and Bessie Gulliver. It would be great to hear from any of you.
Regards
David Horn.
 
 

Message from David Horn
We are now living in Cumbernauld which is a town about 15 miles north of Glasgow. I came here for what I considered to be a temporary job 16 years ago and liked it so much we stayed. I work for NCR Ltd in Cumbernauld where I am a computer consultant. The area of business I usually work in is Government or manufacturing but our main lines of business are finance and retail. My job mainly involves installing and implementing large UNIX machines with several hundred users, networking, training and pre-sale. The area I cover is all of Scotland but in the near future I have assignments in Dublin, London and Copenhagen. My wife Julie is a playleader with an under 5's group. The hours and holidays suit her fine as it fits in with the kids school hours. Julie used to live in Leechmere Road in Seaton and her sister Linda Buckley still lives in Seaton with her husband Alan and 3 children. I hope we can communicate again soon. Next time I will tell you about some of our hobbies and interests.
Regards
David Horn.
 
 

Hi Seaham,
My brother who still lives at Seaton, sent me a letter saying that you were on line, and what a great thing for my wife and I. As I lived most of my young life at Seaham and my wife came from Ryhope, although we have been in Australia now for the last 45 years we still call ourselves Poms and we will never ever call ourselves Aussies. Keep up the great work and it is great to be part of Seaham again
Kindest Regards
Bill Rutherford.
 
 

Margaret LeBoldus - Harbour Lass in Canada
I am not on the internet but I am using a friends service while visiting for the summer holidays in Calgary Alberta. I live 500 miles away in Regina Saskatchewan. I am leaving for home tomorrow. School begins August 26 in Regina (I am a teacher) which leaves me a week for preparation and miscellaneous chores I have to do ie catching up on the bills. Our school is a community school. Our mandate is basically one of a Cross Cultural nature. The school population is largely Native Canadian (used to be called Indians which is no longer P.C.)(politically correct) Hopefully you will enjoy the information I will send to you once I get back into the classroom. Probably some time towards the end of September.
Yours,
Margaret LeBoldus.
St. Agustine Community School
Edgar Street,
Regina, Saskatchewan.
Canada.
Fax 1-306-791-3563
 
 

Tom's Terrific Tales: Arty's Revenge
First of all greetings to Eddie Mason (I believe ex-mayor). Sorry I have not replied sooner but, the loss of my wife Sheila (Taylor) has taken presidence. Tommy Leighton for Yorkshire (Dawdonite) by origin, has just been on the phone and has asked to be remembered. Eddie! I remember you well I often relate to my children the good and easy times playing in the woods & fields behind Daphne Cres.. It is a shame that my grand-children can not play with the same amount of freedom.
Artie Lockyear (I don't know how to spell) I remember one night at the hop in the parish hall on Station Road. One of the local tear-a-ways, who had been thown out was trying to clamber back in via the toilet window. Arty sneeked up behind, slammed the window down onto his back trapping him. He then proceeded to leather the lads rear end. The lads friends were said to be charging 6d to enter the toilets to see his face?.
Just for the record I am now caretakering in the city of London (housing). It might be a good idea to set aside space for tales of escapades of Seaham's Lads & Lasses.
I know from tales I have heard that there is a potential bookfull.
Regards
Tom
 
 

Tom's Terrific Tales: Jasper the Chicken
It seems that the older I get, the more I think of my childhood days!!!. I remember one day on the field behind Daphne Cres..Three BIG boys namly Ralph Brough, Doug.Wharton & Ed.Mason entered the field shouting "catch this Tom" as one threw a ball high in the air. I caught it, not realising it to be a `corky`. The pain was excruciating but I did not show it. You big bullies you. Do you remember when the rag and bone man gave day old chicks for woollens ?. We got some and only one survived (christened Jasper). Jasper was the scourge of Daphne Cres. The dogs & cats walked on the other side of the street when passing our house. Even my mother would not go into the garden when he was on the loose. It got to the point that he had to be locked in the greenhouse, where he promptly ate my dads tomato plants. Come Christmas time it was decided that Jasper was going to join us for lunch!!. Ronny Prest, (the only one brave enough to face Jasper) wrung his neck. Mother plucked, drew & roasted Jasper. I can still see the scene, Jasper in the middle of the table with his feet in the air a nice golden brown and, all us kids with tears in our eyes. Father was a hard nosed sod but, even he could not stick the knife in Jasper.. The Prest`s got Jasper and we had a very welcome veggy Christmas dinner. Regards, TOM Thomas S Moreland
 
 

Tom's Terrific Tales: Conversion of the Black Dog
While living at Dawdon, the -------`s had the most awful black dog ever known. It would bite all and sundrie. Mr.------- decided that it would have to go!!. Two shillings and sixpence was a lot of money to have a mad dog put to sleep so he took matters into his own hands (it was the common way in those days). He set forth to the Blast beach cliff tops with the dog on a lead and an axe over his shoulder. On reaching his destination he lashed the dog to a fallen tree trunk and, took an almighty swing with the axe. The dog lunged to one side, Mr.------- missed and cut the lead!!. It was a sight to behold, the dog legging it down the 'wide back street', him 20 yards behind shouting for it to come back (in not too christian a manner). On reaching home he was all for going back, however his wife (the dog cowering behind her) would not hear of it. Still it`s an ill wind that blows no good. From that day forth, you could kick that dog and it would lick your foot (still, I suppose in those circumstances I would have changed my attitude).
Thomas S Moreland
 
 

Hello Seaham Harbour
I was amazed to find this on the net. As I grew up in Seaham I still try to keep in touch,but its getting difficult as both my parents are dead and I had no brothers or sisters. I grew up down the "harbour" (Robert St.) then moved to Bethune Ave, Deneside. I went to Ropery Walk (an excellent School.. who else agrees?) then to Ryhope Grammar(no comment !!) Joined Snowden & Bailes (Milanda) then joined the Navy in 1962. I never really got back except for home visits, but I have always missed it a lot.
I now live in a small village called Street, in Somerset Does anybody remember me ? It would be great to get a chat line going on the net.
Good luck Seaham. I really mean it.
Derek Robson.