The Quilty view......football opinion: Drop Ten turn and face 57

Letters from the edge

My life long friend Johnny Burnham passed away back in 2003. At the time I wrote to his sons Dean and Sean a letter reflecting on the life of their dad Johnny. Here is that letter

16/12/03

Dear Sean and Dean

My name is Steve Quilty and I am an old friend of your Dad. We both lived in Pownall Road, Hackney and I suppose we knew each other from the age of 12/13.

I spoke to your mum the other day and decided I would write to you both to tell you some small things about your dad when he was growing up.

As you know John was always a fanatical Arsenal supporter but people might not realize but he was also one of the most natural goalkeepers you would see. We played at a place called the’pitch’ near the broadway market, which was actually made of concrete! John was very brave, often diving at people’s feet. Few players would go in on him, helped by the fact that insisted on playing in his steel toe-capped doc martins while in goal! John was continually asked to play for local clubs but preferred to make our lives a misery instead, down the ‘pitch’.

From those early days many familiar names were on the scene. Most Arsenal supporters but one or two Spurs fans like me. Steven Godber and Neil Battes were local friends who also went to Edith Cavell School, as was Tommy Pascoe, all favouring the reds. By the time we were 14, Seamy Kennedy and Peter Harwood were other boys your dad was friendly with. They were slightly older than us and were from a crowd including John Weedon, Tommy Spencer, Paul from Burma and big bloke named ‘Flood’, all these came from the Shacklewell Lane area of Hackney. As you would expect the slightly more stylish blokes supported Tottenham - Micky Sullivan being one of them, Micky a true style guru whose clothing sense affected one and all. Ben Sherman and Brutus shirts; mohair suits or trousers; stay press trousers; loafer shoes and big heavy crombie overcoats…..your dad had one with a silk golden hanky chief worn in the top pocket. 1969-70 was the start of both the skin-head era in London and the advent of reggae music which is strange as skins weren’t supposed to be keen on black people at the time. Gradually we transformed to another style called the ‘suade-head look. Your dad still loved his high doc martins and turned up levi’s but started to wear ‘harrington’ jackets as well as green army greens and bomber jackets.

Another from Seamy’s crowd was the well known Danny ‘the crutch’ Wiseman who not surprisingly, was an invalid. He also played football with us down the pitch. Danny liked a drink and was known for driving his three-wheeler on the pavement while pissed.

At a young age we had shocks to deal with. Steven Long who lived next to Peter Harwood was killed at 16 riding his Scooter into a lamp-post….he wasn’t wearing a crash helmet. The night before, about 20 of us, including Steven Long had walked all the way home from Arsenal v Tottenham because we couldn’t get on the 236 bus because of the big crowd. Someone dying so young was hard to fathom.

Your dad got a car quite early…a blue Hillman imp. One night we drove up to watch Arsenal v Leicester in the league cup. They lost 2-1 but Liam Brady had played and scored a cracker in his first game for the gunners. There were five of us in the car but it started to go wrong (clutch) on the way back. John waved down the supporters bus on the motorway insisting the rest of us get home before he drove back to London stuck in second gear. That was typical of John, selfless in all he did.

As you know his own dad died when John was only 14/15 and this literally meant that he became the family bread winner from a young age. He worked nights and weekends for several bakeries including Mays’, Percy Ingles and The Broadway Bakery. He got on really well with my parents and always brought up newspapers, bags of doughnuts and loaves of bread early in the morning when he finished work. He was a hard worker seemingly always covered in flour and dust. I had got a hard time from my parents because your dad was such a battler. He got me a holiday job at the bakers when I was 15 and I reckon it was one of the hardest things I ever worked at, still having scars from picking up hot bread from the floor!

Later he worked for the Pascoe’s at Pyrock another horrible dirty job he did spraying ‘fire proofing’ into industrial kitchens. Again I helped him for a few weeks and found it too wet and cold. I am sure that both of these jobs did not help your dad’s health over the years.

Tragedy stuck your dad again when Pat died at home. This only made John work harder and my parents tell of how he took on responsibility for the home without a thought. Michelle was very young and Debbie, a teenager, was just starting out with Paul.

Of course it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Our crowd used to go to the Lyceum in the Strand every Monday night – people from all over London headed there. Me and your dad almost won a holiday in Spain one night up there. For weeks the club had given out tickets for a draw. On the last night we were late and got in just in time. However, just as we were getting our money out a bloke jumped the queue in front of us and you guessed it, the bastard got the winning ticket for a holiday for two. One night going home we waited to get on the number 6 bus at the Strand. As the bus pulled in two groups of blokes disagreed who was getting on first and a massive brawl broke out…luckily we weren’t involved getting on and leaving them to it still fighting at the bus stop. Another club your dad loved was the Clanger Bar near Liverpool Street. We danced to people such as Rod Stewart and ‘You wear it well’; ‘Hi Ho Silver Lining’ by Jeff Beck and the Israelites by Desmond Decker. Tamela Motown music was also big. A few local reggae stars used to appear live at the Lyceum, including Judge Dread and Max Romeo. David Bowie was big at the time as were T Rex; Sweet; Slade; Status Quo; Gary Glitter and Mungo Jerry. Stevie Wonder was popular and a bloke named Eddie Kendrix had a big hit with ‘Keep on truckin’, a record that Neil Battes loved to dance to. Ike and Tina Turner also had the famous ‘Nut Bush City Limits’ at the time which got us all dancing.

A bloke named Tony Ryan (another Arsenal supporter) had a car before most of us and used to drive us all over the place including some pubs at Ware in Hertfordshire.

As you know your dad had some pretty strong views on things. “Tube trains…..no way you won’t get me down there, I’ll get the bus” (as long as it wasn’t upstairs). “Lift’s, forget it, I’ll run up the stairs”> Ask your mum what he was like in the high rise at Hackney Wick. I’m not sure how he ever agreed to fly in a plane.

John was mad keen on the actor Michael Crawford who was in comedy as ‘ Frank Spencer’ whose punch-line was “Oh Betty”, your dad impersonating him well as a party trick.

We were also friendly with a crowd from Upper Clapton in our teens, Neil and Steve were two of the blokes, a girl named Renarta and another called Susan (who was quite sweet on your dad) as well as a bloke named Bernard Auguste.

Your dad was an intensely loyal bloke who often took me out when I was skint. Hackney and Bethnal Green in the early 1970’s had the best pub scene in London. We could literally walk to ten pubs in a very small area; the Queens, the Horns and the Sebright Arms were three we spent time in. The Alexander on the roundabout at Victoria Park Road was probably our favourite. Although Steven Pipe’s mate Terry Loft got hit on the head with a bottle thrown out of a car there one night, and we all ended up at the hospital for hours. Generally it safe though and always packed out. I actually went out for several years with a girl named Denise Lowe who lived next door to your dad in Regents Court, before he moved over to the marshes.

Later in life, when your dad was married to Janice, he would often ring me when I lived at Highams Park, especially when Arsenal had just beaten Spurs. Even here in Australia he would call and speak for an hour, your mum not knowing until the bill came in.

I hope you didn’t mind me sharing a few memories of John with you. I know he was very proud of you both. I told your mum the other day that a few months after John had died a strange thing happened to me while I was on my computer. The e mail address book was open with the whole list of contact addresses there in black on the screen. Without me touching anything your dads e mail address suddenly lit up in blue for two seconds and then faded back to black like the rest of the addresses. I was not scared but felt euphoric that John had made contact with me. Your mum and I agreed that it had been a ‘good thing’ and I regard it as a special moment for me with my old friend John. Your dad is someone I regard as one of my best life friends and I proud that we grew up together in London.