‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 24 Finding a football team to follow

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 24

Finding a football team to follow

Coming to Australia, as I have said, it was natural to seek out things with a certain familiarity. In my case the coaching and playing of football quickly sorted itself out. My family and I actually found an NRL side before an NSL based one.  That was the way until a new side was located on the North Shore at North Sydney Oval. This new side was Northern Spirit. Somehow the NSL had overlooked this part of the city for expansion. Thus, when they did come up with the team in 1998 for 1999, there was a lot of latent local goodwill ready to spark. In that first season the new club really nailed its marketing effort attracting many people who had never connected with an NSL team previously. Playing on balmy Friday evenings at North Sydney was a masterstroke. Children were admitted free while Northern Spirit really had two complimentary target customers. First it was ‘Families with children’ closely backed up by ‘City workers coming straight to the football’ from their offices. The convenience of having a few drinks on the way certainly appealed to many. 

The side itself was a mixture of Australian European returnees, ageing foreign players and up and coming youngsters. The experienced Robbie Slater, for instance had played for West Ham and had also been an EPL winner with Blackburn Rovers in 1995 before becoming skipper in for Spirit in their champagne first season in 1998. Ian Crook had played with Spurs and Norwich City while Graham Arnold was both an Australian international and someone who played in both Belgium and Japan. Craig Foster also later turned out for the side after returning to England to play for Crystal Palace being the Sydney clubs skipper in 2001/2002. Remo Nogarotto was a prime mover in putting the squad together. Northern Spirits flirtation with foreign imports, was a bit hit and miss. A certain Nicola Berte came over having also played for Spurs but no one seemed to have told him he would be expected to actually play football for his money in Australia. He was a disaster! That said Spirit did pick up one brilliant player in Kresimir Marusic a midfielder who was a true magic man. Locals Mark Rudan, Luke Casserley, Paul Bilokapic, Troy Cranney and Michael Cunico made up a competitive first year squad. The latter had actually played for my JPII side back in 1995, so it was with added excitement that we all went along.

From a supporters point of view Northern Spirit was a typical ‘band wagon’ experience, nice and family friendly but a ‘bandwagon’ all the same. I took both Dan and Cassie to the games and it was a truly safe evening activity for the thousands of young kids who attended. Cassie, as a eight year old, collected hundreds of plastic beer glasses form in front of the Bob Stand. Visits from traditional NSL clubs Sydney Olympic, Sydney United and Marconi were electric. Crowds of 18-19,000 commonplace. Never short of an opinion my chief concerns were that Slater was wrongly entrusted with being the sides ‘playmaker’ when in his career he had been as a hard working water carrier. Predictably me and my mates gave it to him verbally, especially when he seemed to often blame rather than lift the youngsters in the team. The other subject of our supporter scorn was coach Graham Arnold whose imitation of a deer in the headlights didn’t go down well with us. A finals play off place in Season One was really the highpoint for the club. One thing which did appeal was the chance to follow the club all over Sydney and parts of NSW. Spirit took several thousand supporters to away games. We went to Olympic, United, Power and Marconi as well as Newcastle, Canberra and Wollongong. I likened the Spirit away support to naïve ‘trainspotter types’. A good indication of this was the afternoon they entered the Sydney United ground and proceeded to head for the ‘Home end’ behind the goal. Being early there were only 50 home fans in there at the time and Spirit walked over to stand next to them! Predictably, a thousand more United locals raced across to meet the challenge and only police cordon intervention avoided a nasty situation. Northern Spirit was a great experience while it lasted but was really a wasted opportunity for the game. As ever there were those out to make money from Australian ‘soccer’ and the clubs great marketing start was not maintained. An incident that typified the rapid decline was one evening match when I took the kids. Somehow, I only had twenty dollars on me but knew kids got in free. What an embarrassment then when I was told kids were no longer free and I was $10 short. We were meeting friends inside but there I was outside North Sydney Oval unable to pay my way in. Fortunately, the person on the gate agreed to just ‘accept all my money’ before letting us go in! Not long after, the rot seemed to set in at Northern Spirit, Slater, Crook and Arnold all invested and lost $200,000-300000 in the club. Glasgow Rangers took it over but by now they had moved to play at Brookvale and lost 3/4 of their support. A big problem was the ongoing cost of using a ‘drop in’ pitch to replace the rock-hard cricket square. Clubs who don’t control their ground often struggle and Northern Spirit were no exception. As supporters we had a great experience in the two year ‘window’ when things were going right. The ultimate failure of Spirit is an instructive warning to A League side Western Sydney Wanderers, who also seemed to hit the right initial formula before losing some momentum.

That said, standing on the halfway line with Derek Kirk,  Noel Hooper, Mark Salkeld, Gary Hayes and Jimmy Everitt, shouting “Pass the ball Slater” was always great after a hard week of work. Nothing like it!

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 25 Coaching your own.

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 25

Coaching your own.

What do they say about tradesmen? Their own houses are one big unfinished project! I don't think I was ever quite that bad with regard to my own kids and football but there was always a shortage of time or clashes for kick offs. In any given weekend in the season would look something this when things worked out!

Saturday

9.00 kick off SPX 1st XI at Oxford Falls.

11.30 kick off Berowra Boys U16's Foxglove Oval.

15.00 kick off Berowra Over 35's George Christie.

Sunday 

11.00 kick off Berowra Girls U14's Parklands.

Fortunately, the boys and girls competitions were generally on different days but for Danny especially I am grateful for many other coaches being there for him. Thus, from 1995 for Danny and 1996 for Cassie, they were both turning out for Berowra Soccer Club as it was called back then.

One such coach I am forever thankful for is the late Dave Steadman who was the successful coach of Dan's U15's side. Dave was a fanatical West Ham supporter who had played for Pittwater for many years. He later moved up to Berowra with his wife Sue and his two boys, one of which, Chris, played in the U15's with Dan. This particular team had played for many seasons together without being able to land a win the KDSA competition. Then in 2004 the football gods looked down upon them and deemed it to be their time in the light. The Berowra side never led the competition at any time until more or less the last day of the season. My role was largely to help Dave and take some training sessions of an evening at Berowra oval. On this particular weekend Dan's Berowra team won 7-0 and gave themselves an outside chance to win the league, if other results went their way. With this vital 3 points in the bag Dave and I set off to watch the afternoon game between Clarke Road and Lindfield over at St Ives Showground. The mathematics of the competition had us two points in front of these two but if either were to win they would jump over us to take the title by a point. Dave was unusually quiet watching this game but when the final whistle we knew that the 1-1 result left Berowra as Champions! His smile stretched from ear to ear because he had coached the side since U7's. The dedication and time given by people like Dave Steadman for grass roots level football is what gives the game its ongoing momentum. He is sadly missed.

Back in 2002 our Cassie made the switch to women's football having previously played in the mixed teams from U5's. Her first year was in the Berowra U14's, she was 12. Unfortunately, the Berowra side were pitched in the First Division with all the North Shore heavyweights like Lindfield, North Sydney and Northbridge. As a wretched season wound up, I thought she might want to stop playing football. She had had a single season of netball a few years previously and ended up totally frustrated, so I hoped she would stay with the main game.

As the new season approached in 2003, Terrie and Cassie suggested that I take a turn in coaching the team. It was Sunday morning competition all over the North Shore and we knew it would again be tough. I agreed to their suggestion, co-opted my good mate Mark Salkeld to work with me and proceeded to recruit a team that could compete. Mark's daughter Laura played as did manager Ian Brooks daughter Kathleen. In the following weeks I set out to persuade various sportswomen in Berowra to come and play football. We actually recruited several players at Berowra supermarket, they were wearing their Athletics Rep tracksuits so I knew they could run! I also persuaded the daughters of several Berowra friends to join the side and by seasons start we were ready to go. 

Having previously coached the U18 Womens side at JPII I knew we needed to get the organisation right. The girls were very coachable. However, it was quickly apparent that at training these players needed ten minutes of socialisation before they would listen to us! The solution was to give them all a ball and send them off around the oval and return ready to concentrate. Kate Van Beek, one of our new recruits tells a funny story. Her mum, Carolyn, on first hearing me at a game said something like "Kate who is that dickhead shouting and hollering on the sideline?" Kate's reply was "No mum, he's okay, he knows what we need to do"

And so it was the Berowra U14 Girls side absolutely smashed all and sundry including the big three of Lindfield, North Sydney and Northbridge. We won the A Grade competition and went off to Wollongong at seasons end to represent the KDSA in Champion of Champions going down 2-1. As I have said before, I don't see gender in Football, I see players. In the case of our squad we had a super competitive group. One thing they insisted upon was doing their own warm up's that were more dance and aerobics than anything I'd ever seen before. They went across the pitch in unison doing rhythmic exercises and clapping. They all wore the same white headbands and looked an awesome co-ordinated unit. Our opposition was usually beat before they entered the field. One funny story around this side occurred when our identical twins Bethany and Kirraly Thompson were playing for us down at Berowra Oval. One played on the left wing and the other the right. Their mum Maureen used to sit up the top doing her knitting not paying too much attention to the game. On this occasion we decided to switch the girls to opposite wings at half time. As we kicked off for the second half a panicked Maureen came running to pitch-side. The conversation went like this. 

“Hi Maureen, coming down for a closer look?”

“No Steve! What have you done? They are mirror twins and you have put them on the wrong side. They will clash, you have to switch them back again, now!” Bemused we did just that. Put them back in their usual positions. Who knew?

This side then went up to U16's a year early and finished a creditable third in 2004 before taking out the championship again in 2005. This time our Champion of Champions excursion was to Ballina going down by the odd goal in three. In 2006 we moved up to U18 and again won the title in a canter. This season we won several round games in the Champion of Champion making the semi final stage going down to Manly Vale. It had been enjoyable working with such a motivated group over the five seasons with three A Grade titles, a much deserved reward. As it turned out my plan to take the side to Berowra All Age never eventuated. By this time most of the squad were doing their HSC or University and after five seasons the side disbanded. Interestingly four of the side, Kate Van Beek, Steph Le Strange, Rosie Toner and Madeline Saunders went on to play for the Northern Tigers Rep sides. 

Around this time in 2004, I also took a coaching role with Asquith All Age Men’s Premier League. My good mate Derek had accepted the Head Coach role and needed an assistant. This Asquith side had already won the league for several season’s so it was no easy task to maintain or improve the level. Asquith were a very fit, physical side who with speed wide played an attacking 3 5 2. Their Captain was Ryan McKendrick was a brilliant box to box midfielder while Hus and Roddy up front were prolific scorers. Davo at the back being a powerful sweeper. That season Asquith won the league and went to the Semi-Final of the Champion of Champion, going out to Northern Beaches side Brookvale. This involvement in local club football between 2003-06 was a successful one for me at a time when the SPX sides were having trouble winning Grand Finals, despite winning the Minor Premiership. But that is another story.

Drop Ten, turn and face’ Quiltys Football Yarns 26

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 26

First past the post and all that.

Entering the 2000’s SPX 1st XI were flying. We had strong squads in all three seasons including 2001-3. In 2001 Adam Demasi assumed the captaincy for the side with his brother Matt also making the squad. Vanya was back between the sticks with Prentice and McMcintosh also returning. The Mastroianni brothers Michael and Matt provided much of the midfield muscle but a gift to college appeared in the person of Daniel ‘Dubbo’ Bateup who came up to Sydney for his final two years of school and a pursuit of a career in Football. 

Looking back to ‘The Collegian’ of 2001 I wrote, 

“Good judges who have played a large part in SPX Football over the past five seasons have said we have had no better side in that time. As coach of the side I would agree with that statement but in the wash up we came up short in terms of trophies in the cabinet and for many that is the harshest test of success.”

In the ISA we were unbeaten Minor Premiers only dropping points in an away draw with St Pats. We proceeded to have a great season gaining doubles over Oxley, SCECG’s and St Andrew’s. Our defence was strong being marshalled by Chris-Rickard Bell at sweeper, the stylish Jason Andrijic and the Kynoch-Kelly twins, Peter and Darren being tough utility players. The wide running of Anthony Slater providing rapid go forward with Adam Demasi and Chris Toole supplementing top scorer Prentice. As is the way in football, disappointments can be like buses, and often come in pairs. So it was in season 2001. In the ISA Grand Final, we once again played St Pat’s. In a tense game with chances at both ends we went 1-0 down direct from a free kick.  The crowd at Christie Park was massive and Br Leary estimated that we had the school support by a ratio of 4:1. Unfortunately after a period when it seemed we must score we again conceded direct from a free kick. Things were to get no better on the night poor discipline ruling out any realistic chance of a comeback. St Pat’s were worthy winners on the night. Within a week we had a chance to make amends when playing Barker in the NSWCIS semi final at Oxford Falls. Trailing by an early goal we stormed back with two Chris Toole goals to lead 2-1. Looking to close out the game several silly bookings were to cost us a heavy price because we had a player dismissed with ten to go. Then right on the whistle we conceded a penalty to make it 2-2. Our ten battled bravely but Barker’s star Ben Jenke sealed the game in golden goal extra time.

Season 2002 was in many ways a brilliant one. We won all ten ISA round games and a Semi Final scoring 33 goals and conceding just 13. In the NSWCIS Cup we defeated William Clarke and Kenthurst before again falling to Barker, this time at the Quarter Final stage. In the St Andrew’s Cup we again went down in the Final to Trinity. At ISA Rep level ten of our senior players made the squads. We also had David Prentice make NSW Schoolboys and Daniel Bateup the Australian Schoolboys squad. It is hard not to conclude that somewhere along the way we deserved at least a trophy as reward, but that is football. If persuading Damien Pisano to play for SPX in 1998 was important, the elevation of two of our players to State and National Schoolboy level was crucial in the development of Football expectations at the college. David Prentice was our first player to win a Football scholarship in America, studying and playing in Cleveland and Furman University’s. Daniel took a more conventional path going to play and trial in the UK and Europe. These players literally laid down dual pathways for other SPX players to aspire and we are eternally thankful for that.

This is what I wrote regarding these SPX players in 2002,

Exciting times are ahead for two of our class of 2002. Soccer players Daniel Bateup David Prentice are embarking on different routes to further their ambitions within the sport. 

Daniel, who was a Australian and NSW Schools representative last year, has gone to Europe in an attempt to win a professional contract. In mid July he spent a fortnight at Gillingham, Kent and at Walsall near Birmingham, training with the first grade sides during their pre-season. He has now moved on to Glasgow where trials are being arranged with Celtic and Morton. Daniel hopes to return to London to trial with Spurs before heading off to Switzerland. His father Mark is keeping SPX abreast of developments and attributes Daniels drive to become a soccer player as the major motivation for his son. 

'David Prentice, the SPX soccer captain in 2002 was also a NSW representative player last season. It is in the USA that David intends to further his soccer ambitions. David has accepted a 4 year full scholarship at Cleveland State University in Ohio to study Business and leaves for there in the second week of August. David has also won a place in Cleveland’s soccer side which competes in the countries elite college competition. He is unusual in having met the rigorous academic conditions for the scholarship and being a top level soccer player. David remarks “ There is so much opportunity in the USA. Soccer is the fastest growing sport and the college circuit is well funded with excellent facilities”. 

These diverse routes to success in soccer are a useful signpost for  SPX students seeking to further their development. It is often said that the school route through sport enables any of our students to reach their potential. Just ask Daniel Bateup and David Prentice.'

In season 2003 the SPX 1st XI side was led by Johnny Ruggerino a fine wide attacking player. His vice-captain was Chris Girling a tough no nonsense defensive midfielder. Between them they took the squad to an unbeaten regular season in the ISA only dropping points in draws with St Pats and SCECG’s. Once again our NSWCIS Cup run was to be halted by Barker down at Hornsby this time at the Quarter Final stage. Earlier wins over St Paul’s and Northolme Grammar had promised so much. Indeed the failure to deliver the final win after being so dominant is a topic that could be discussed infinitum. In the St Andrew’s Cup holiday competition we made the final only to go down to our old nemesis Trinity Grammar. They say that lightening doesn’t strike twice but for us a ISA Grand final defeat was suffered to St Pats after leading in the match. With the benefit of hindsight it is hard not to conclude that for three seasons in a row our self-discipline let us down because once again we finished the game with ten players on the field. Across these three seasons we can see that being skilful and talented in football may not be enough. Looking back on these seasons 17 years on, the reality is stark. In 2003 I wrote 

“I am proud of what the side achieved. The fact that we have now gone 25 regular season ISA games since our last defeat in 2001 is only tempered by the reality that finals are a sticking point for us at the moment”. Upon reflection, the culture in the St Pats group was more controlled, enabling a more constant and ultimately more fruitful entity. Johnny Ruggerino, Chris Girling and Chris Shahinian all made ISA 1st XI selection which illustrated what a strong group this was. Moving on to 2004 our SPX football program went inter-state and a started fine new tradition of playing Queensland and New Zealand colleges.

Drop Ten, turn and face’ Quiltys Football Yarns 27

Drop Ten, turn and face’

Quiltys Football Yarns 27

As a seventeen year old I was probably too immature to concentrate on studying and even though attending the best school in East London decided to leave before A Level’s. My cousin Johhny Hill helped me find a role at his firm in the City, Stock-Jobber Berger & Gosschalk. My Headmaster Graeme Walters wasn’t impressed that the job offer came in a hand-written letter.”They can’t even afford a typewriter.” He said. However I’d made up my mind and off I went. The day I left school I walked out with a fellow student Billy Lee. Years later Billy reminded me of that day when he came to visit us in Sydney with his family. Professor William Lee, as he is now called remarked we’d both come a long way, since then, which is true.

Early 1972 in the City of London was an exciting time. Much rebuilding and the Stock Exchange itself being redeveloped from its dusty old self to a new ‘face to face’ trading floor with modern technology. It was the place where I decided I wanted to work, eventually. It was where the excitement seemed to be.  Where I actually started to work was in the  ‘back-office’ operations of the firm. Berger were stocks and shares wholesalers, undertaking thousands of trades daily which all had to be settled. Everyone at Berger & Gosschalk started initially with the messengers, I was no different and indeed nor was the son of the big boss. Messengers was the spot. The Square Mile was unique in that hundreds of Stockbrokers and Financial Services providers relied on letters and documents to be ‘walked and hand delivered’ around the City. Out on one walk one day I actually saw Sidney Poitier in my local restaurant. He was in London filming the movie 'A Warm December" and on this day doing publicity shots.  

The  mountain of paperwork in the City was increasingly being generated by computer. In 1972-4 our particular computer occupied a room 20 yards by 20yards in size. It required a team of 15 ‘punch card’ operators to feed in information as it generated reports on that green and white computer paper from dot matrix printers. I’m told that my present iPhone is hundreds of times more powerful than that gigantic machine in memory and capacity. Who knew?

Like in all work places there was an hierarchy of roles. I quickly moved on to work with the ‘Checking boys’. This was a role where our firm would send workers to a hall underneath the Lyons Tea House near London Wall. Thousands of bargains from the previous days trade would be ‘called over’ with representatives from other firms. We wore a red badge with our companies number on it, ours was 056. Again the hierarchical nature of the Stock Exchange had us wanting  to be ‘blue buttons’ who worked over on the Market itself. My cousin Johnny Hill worked there for us. He was actually a dealer, a ‘Stock Jobber’ who at the time wore a ‘yellow button’ the step before coming a Stock Exchange ‘member’ and graduation to a ‘silver badge’. For now I was content to be suited up running around the city with my good mate Paul Mordecai who had also joined from our school Parmiters Grammar. That time 1972-4 was historically significant. The Stock Market was impacted heavily by the world events of the day. The Yom Kippur war in 73’ sparked a crisis through OPEC that sent the oil price from $9 a barrel to $27 in just a short time. The world impact was a spike in fuel costs for business and at the same time an economic slow down costing millions of jobs. The recession manifested itself in the new term ‘Stagflation’ and we in the city were reduced to a ‘3 Day week’, power shortages, industrial conflict and a general slow down. Personally, I had marched into the bosses office and told him I wanted promotion. Not the best sense of timing but he laughed all the same. In 1974 I took the opportunity to move across from Stock Jobbing to Stock Broking with small firm Blount & Co. I had my job as a Blue Button and was on the Stock Exchange floor. People who know me will recognise that that this was an ideal role for me. Walking around all day talking to people! I was was the eyes and ears of the firm down on the floor reporting back by phone the ‘ blue and red’ of changing prices on the jobbers pitches. It was exciting and it was live. While we moved onto the new dealing floor mid-seventies a lot of the old habits and rules never changed. If you bumped into a member on the floor it was likely that he would report you to the exchange. What you wore was also monitored. The wearing or anything brown was a no no. Wearing a brown suit or shoes would get you whistled off the floor. Dodgy ties would get a warning before literally being snipped off! The archaic rules and traditions were shook to their foundations when the first woman was admitted around this time.  Johnny Hill once told me he could recognise if someone was a buyer or seller, big or small by the way they walked towards his pitch.  Body language 101 he called it. The language of the London Stock Exchange was very particular. The phrase ‘My word is my bond’ originated there. Anyone breaking the dealing rules would be black-balled if caught. People would refuse to deal with them thereafter. One day I was out by the Tele-text news machine when news of a terrorist attack in Tel Aviv came through. I rushed back and reported it to Johnny Hill, who was trading oil stocks. Immediately the prices crashed as the implications of the news filtered down. Not that I was always such a vigilant Blue button. My boss Peter Titmus one day left me one job to look out for movements in a particular share. He’d be gone for a few hours all I needed to do was phone back to the office any significant price changes for clients. The market was quiet, so around lunch-time I popped out for a cup of tea. Returning I noticed our phone flashing on the wall. I quickly scanned the floor of the market. All seemed quiet. “Anything happening Steve?” He said. “No all quiet here, Peter” I replied. Angrily he blasted me saying, “I suggest you walk over to have a look at Akroyd to actually see what has gone on!”. A short walk showed me that a cascade of red ink on the board meant that the company I was watching had haemorrhaged at lunch time and I’d missed it! A life lesson learned that if you are going to bull-shit, be sure of some facts!

Peter Titmus was a good man and the main partner in our small firm. We had several South African and Australian associates who brought us business from down under overnight. I remember the Aussies being distraught at a election time in 74’. I think a bloke called Whitlam had won. Every morning our telex machine had piles of tape based orders from Jackson Graham Moore, a Sydney broker. Things were not straight forward. At the time a ‘dollar premium’ conversion had to be done on overseas trades.. Unfortunately, one day the shonky Aussies got my boss in a lot of trouble. They sent an order in ‘Gilts’ which were Government debt securities traded by the ‘posh’ bowler hatted Jobbers like Mullens and James Capel. This was a multi-million pound order. Peter traded as instructed by Jackson’s but they failed to realise it was a ‘cash’ or effectively, 2 day settlement for Gilt trades. They didn’t have the money to pay! Embarrassed Peter had to go back to the snooty firm and tell them the problem. Fortunately they offered to reverse the trade at quite a cost to themselves. 

Towards the end of 74’ the Stock Market was like the rest of the economy slowing down alarmingly. There had actually been an IRA bomb blast in the building in Threadneedle St that year. When I left my job I remember writing a poem on how the Market had virtually come to a standstill. A symbol for the real economy which was really struggling. Little did I know I would be back eleven years later in a very different Stock Market. As it turned out, several of the blokes who worked on the market were Jewish and had decided to just ‘up and go’ to volunteer in Israel on a kibbutz. This was all new to me but it sparked an interest I followed up a couple of years later. 

It was true that I’d grown up alongside many Jewish people at  Swingfield House in Hackney. I’d even followed my mate Stevie Brown down time the Synagogue as he did his Hebrew classes. Many of the more religious older Jewish people used to get us non-yiddisher boys to turn their lights on a Friday evening. I remember being in mate David Bryan’s Buba’s house one day, when she gave us beautiful chicken soup. It was only when David brought over the pot for seconds did I see the chicken claws in the soup. Certainly a culture shock! Our local deli had lovely crusty bread, bagels, smoked salmon and roll mops, we certainly had some Jewish insights.   Our local Hackney community in the 60’s had one person to be wary of a Jewish woman ‘Nutty Anna’. She lived in King Edward’s Road. When you walked past she would shout out “You German bastards” Everyone knew her. She had had lost her family during the war. Poor Nutty Anna.

Drop Ten, turn and face’ Quiltys Football Yarns 28

Drop Ten, turn and face’

Quiltys Football Yarns 28

People often speak about the short term jobs they did growing up. When discussing work, my standard response is to say, 'Work experience is more about discovering what you don't like than what you do'. Looking back I certainly found out this reality  in jobs I did as a youngster. 

My late friend Johnny Burnham was one of the hardest working people I ever knew. He lost his dad as a young teenager and seemed to dedicate his life to working hard to try to make up his families loss. Two jobs I remember him doing were in Percy Ingles bakery and with Pyrock a firm that sprayed 'fire retardant' on the ceilings of new buildings. 

Thus as a fifteen year old I went  to work with him at the bakery for three weeks. Starting at 1.00 am it was hell. Percy Ingles baked all their bread and cakes on site. When you came in to the shop the dough was already in the mixer having 'proved' from the previous morning. The loaves and rolls were rolled by hand and placed on 'stretchers' ready for the oven. The doughnuts were also rolled and ready to go in the fryer. All this in a bakery with insanely hot conditions, especially near the oven. Putting the bread in the oven was a two person job and Johnny worked like a Trojan being hard to keep up with. His clothes and steel toe-capped boots being literally caked in dough and flour. Being a rookie in a busy bakery can be dangerous. Thus, as we were putting the bread stretchers in and out of the oven several loaves fell to the floor but we were so busy it was difficult to shift them form under our feet. After about ten minutes a moments break came up, so I thought I'd do the right thing and shift the loaves that had fallen. Wrong! I picked them off the floor with bare hands and then realised they were still scolding hot searing my finger tips. A lesson learned very painfully, I'm sure i still have scars on both thumbs. As the night progressed more jobs came up all with deadlines. The doughnuts being sugared and jammed. The bread being cut and packed on the machine and then, just as daylight was peaking through the shop windows two jobs I grew to hate. First was the mixing of the dough for the next day in the giant mixer. Then at the end of each night shift came the clean up of all the equipment. I think that was the thing I disliked the most. Having to return the work area to a pristine condition before we could go home into the early morning light. I felt that that was drudgery. Having said that it gave me a respect for those that did the bakery work regularly as their job. When Johnny also lost his mum, he would often come to my parents house in Laxfield Court, Pownall Road. He lived further down the street. A lasting memory of Johnny was him turning up at our house early on a Saturday morning wearing his sheepskin coat, with his arms full of bread, cakes and the morning newspaper.

A few years later Johnny had moved on to a job just as hard but this one with regional and international travel. The job was with  'Fire retardant' firm Pyrock. At times Johnny and the team went off to Saudi Arabia to undertake contracts. His reports of the poor conditions and the way overseas workers were treated  were harrowing. The Brits who went were spared much of this treatment but they had to surrender their passports while on the job. More than once the Saudi authorities and Pyrock were in dispute and the workers were prevented from leaving the country. Thus, when Johnny told me they needed workers on a London job I went along with a bit of trepidation. The work consisted of standing up on scaffold in newly constructed buildings and spraying a wet cement mixture up onto the ceiling. This was a skill in itself but to do so you had to hold and direct a 'hopper' from the which the mixture flew. Get the angle wrong and the wet cement came down on your head. This was 1970 and I have my suspicions that it wasn't the healthiest product to work with. I lasted a week at Pyrock, the pay was good but coming home covered in damp, cement covered clothes was not for me. As a matter of fact my mum would make me strip to my underpants at the front door before being admitted to the house. Anyone who knows Maureen would have no surprise there.

Another job I did as a 16 year old during the holiday's, was working with my mate David's dad, Bert Bass.  

Bert was a master plasterer. He had skills that were from a previous age. He could form and shape the intricate cornices on the outside of building's. Sadly such skills had been superseded by pre-made products and Bert tended to take on general building work. At times he had employed dozens of workers but in the end was happier to work for himself avoiding all the aggro of employing staff. Thus, I was quite honoured when he'd walk across the square and shout up to my mum, "Can your little soldier come to work with me today?"

Work with Bert was quite an experience. Typically we'd be making good or pointing the walls of old buildings. Sometimes we'd build staircases or pathways. Bert really came into his own as a plasterer. We would work all over London often in areas where I was unfamiliar. He sub-contracted for another builder called Hennessy. We would always be on the job by 7.30am for an early start. Bert would do an amazing amount of plastering for an hour and it would be as much as I could do, just keeping up with him mixing the 'shit' as he performed miracles, on decrepit old walls. Then as quickly as we had started  he would say

"Come on Quilt, get your coat, we need to get some breakfast." Bert could easily do what looked like four hours work, in just one hour. So off we'd go down to the local cafe. There we would enter at the counter of the restaurant which was teaming with all sorts of tradie's. There he'd order our breakfast. 

"Two bacon sandwich's, two cups of tea, no sugar and make it snappy, you ugly bastard". 

With the warmth of him being well known in the shop I said, 

"Do you come here a lot Bert?'

"No", he'd say, never been here in my life!" 

That was Bert, a dry cutting sense of humour. His contractor boss Hennessy was continually frustrated because we never on the job when he'd arrive but the work was always finished. 'Finish and go' was Bert Bass's motto. In this case he had given me another opportunity to find out about jobs I wasn't suited for.

Probably the last job with which I had such an experience, was as an adult later in life. When we first came to Australia I worked in catering for my brother in law, John Cassidy. John was brilliant at what he did. He and his wife Sharon built their firm Cassidy's Catering from scratch. In trying to secure teaching work in those first few months I'd do weekend work for them, around the North Shore. Bar B Ques, Spit Roasts, Parties and Weddings were all on the agenda. Unfortunately, I disliked working Saturday nights feeling that you could never quite relax knowing you had to work on the night. That said, it was always a good laugh working with the Cassidy's team, when you got there. John was a boss who led from the front, shifting equipment and setting everything up. However, it could be dangerous working with him. Moving pans of hot food with him, being especially dodgy. I probably did about thirty such jobs with John. Often he'd have several functions on on one night and would need managers to run the jobs. Eventually he asked me if I fancied doing a manager role. My answer went something like...

"John I enjoy working with you and appreciate you training me up. However, I'd rather have needles in my eyes than ever be responsible for delivering a wedding function with all the stress it involves!" 

So there it was, my flirtation with catering came to an end. I still believe that if you ever mucked up someones wedding they would pursue you for the rest of your life. Fortunately, I quickly got a job as a Football coach, impersonating a Teacher of Business and Economics.

Drop Ten, turn and face. Quilty’s football yarns 29

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ 

Quilty’s Football Yarns 29

London heat and off to Israel to for the first time.

Sometimes things just seem to work out. In mid-1976 I was working as a gardener for Hackney Council up in yard behind Shoreditch Church. It just happened to be the hottest UK summer in about a hundred years! I was part of a team that went out the estates to cut the lawns and turn the flower beds. Our main area was down Hoxton and up to New North Road. We’d get a certain amount of time to do each bed. Depending on how much we did, went theoretically towards our bonus. Theoretically! Working for the council was surreal. Our yard employed about 20 staff and really it was a competition around who could do the least work. Like anywhere there was a work Hierarchy. Tilston was the big boss. McDonald his second in command with Paddy the foreman. Then there was us, the gardeners. In reality the official chain of command bore little in common with where power actuallylay. There were three young blokes I worked with, Terry Horwood an old school mate, Pat Power from Islington and Orley Thorn from Barbados. There were also five or six older blokes who were particularly ‘well in’ with Paddy. We’d be in the yard by 7.00am, sit for half an hour drinking tea and reading the paper before being dropped ‘out on the streets’ at 7.30am by John the van driver. John was probably the slowest driver in the world and never drove quicker than 15 MPH. This was fine but being couped up in the back of the yellow windowless van could be wearing, especially with six or seven cigarette smoking oldies. Arriving at our council estate destination, we got out, waved the van off and chucked our tools in the bushes before going for breakfast at the local café. Minimal work was ever done especially in this scorching summer. Me and two of the other two young blokes actually tried to work as hard as we could one week, to see if could earn a decent bonus. We needn’t have bothered because come Friday we got 12 pound each while the oldies got 21. I confronted Paddy while we in the yard. Everyone was there.

“Hey, Paddy. What’s the go with this bonus? We worked as hard as we could this week and we end up with 12 pound each!”

He replied with” You don’t come into the Duke of York to buy me a drink Friday morning, that’s what these other (old) blokes always do”.

Amazed I came back with “So you are saying, in front of everyone here, that I have to come and bribe you to get a decent bonus?” And yes he was. That was how it worked. In the following weeks we’d go along and see the others collect their pay, pop in the boozer, buy Paddy a drink and then knock-off work at 11.30am. This was every Friday. Of all the management only Mcdonald tried to get people working properly. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t drive and only had a bike to ride around the streets and flats of Hoxton. The big boss Tilston and Vince the union man formed an unholy alliance. They actually ran a business on the side, selling Council potted plants to local cafes and restaurants. To add another level of cheek, John the van driver, in his inconspicuous yellow vehicle, dropped them off! He just did as he was told. I’m sure he’d had some sort of trauma because he never said a word to anyone. There were a very special people working with us. One bloke, ‘Larry the lawnmower’, refused to stop mowing the lawns even in the searing heat. As people will remember the Summer of 76’ was so dry that much of the grass just died. This was the grass not caught fire by Larry.! He was convinced that if he stopped cutting he would not get paid. If you told him to stop he’d just storm off and lock himself in one of the cupboard rooms on the estate. Poor Larry. Probably the funniest thing I saw working on the Gardening Team was when Terry Horwood fell foul of the ‘time and motion man’. Terry always ran his own race not getting involved in Yard politics. Phil another guy who was the same. Why would he? He actually had a newspaper stand right in front of Shoreditch Church and he ran it while he was supposed to be gardening! On this particular day, Terry was being observed by the ‘time and motion man’. He was told to just go through his normal routine, so he did. He worked to 8.30am and then went to the café for breakfast. Of course the ‘time and motion man’ went with him and Terry treated him to a fried breakfast. Only at the end of the week when the blokes report went in did terry discover that he had written down on the sheet, ’worked for hour…went for breakfast for an hour and a quarter’. Obviously, Terry had never been the subject of a productivity study before. 

Towards the end of 76’ I was making plans to go away to work on Kibbutz in Israel and left the Hackney Council gardening job. It had been an eye opener. By the end I was turning up to work in in shorts, flip flops and a towel underneath my arm. After a couple of hours at work we’d shoot off to the swimming pool for the afternoon. The only other thing I carried around with me was a rake so that I could pretend to be working wherever we were. As I left the job I decided to write a ‘pilot’ for a sit-com based on the yard. This I did with my late friend Tony Fuller. It was called ‘On the Borough’. It was of its time and although we sent it to London Weekend TV it never got a run. Reading it today it comes across as being very inappropriate. It was of its time.

On January 4th 1977 my mate Paul Mordecai and myself flew out of London via El Al and into Tel Aviv. As explained previously, going to work on a Kibbutz had been on our minds for quite a while. Project 67’ were the contact group we used and they put us in touch with Kibbutz Representatives in Tel Aviv. I had 100 pound on me and Paul had 150. Leaving a cold London, we were met by an even colder Israel. At the time it was actually snowing in Jerusalem. We were off for about six months and went loaded with all sorts of clothing. In the Kibbutz Representatives office, we were directed toward our assigned destination, Kibbutz Tel Katzir in the Jordan Valley, overlooking the Sea of Galilee. After a few hours bus ride north, we arrived at what I eventually came to consider one of the most beautiful places I’d ever lived. On this day it was bleak and teaming with rain. As we stumbled into the door-way of the chalets where the volunteers lived, there, in front of us, were two blokes sprawling on improvised armchairs, head to foot in muddy, wet clothing. Their boots were laying nearby. For a moment the world stood still. They looked at us and we at them. 

Then Paul spoke, “We are here to volunteer, are we at the right place?”

Our two hosts suddenly broke their stare from these two outside world dandies, replying with,

“Hi, this is ‘John the Pom’ and I’m Steve Rosen, a ‘Saffer’.

As we were to find out slightly later these guys thought we were hilarious in our stiff formal introductions. Here we were about to descend into a wonderful world of freedom, communal living and not a care in the world.

Tel Katzir was the size of a small town with 300-400 regular inhabitants. On our Kibbutz there were usually 40-50 volunteers, some Jewish, some not, from almost everywhere across the globe. We lived nearby to but separate from the ‘Kibbutz members’. Basically, the deal was that you did a day’s work in the fields and got food, beer, cigarettes, chocolate and a few dollars a month with somewhere basic to live. We worked primarily in Bananas although occasionally did irrigation. Our place also kept chickens which had to be transported out at 12 weeks...done at 3.00am and this job should be added to my list of ‘the worst jobs ever’. The chickens were ambushed and carried out to the trucks. They could not be slaughtered on site. It wouldn’t have been kosher. Carrying those birds, four in each hand was ghastly, something I’d never want to do again.

Chickens aside, these were fantastic times. The Kibbutz was a place where you could work, relax and basically sort out your thoughts in idealic surroundings. Tel Katzir outlooked the Sea of Galilee while at the same time being dominated by the Golan Heights. I managed to learn basic Hebrew working alongside Ben Yamin and Levi, the Banana picking experts who were Libyan Jews.  The kibbutz was a place where you could pause your travel, live and work. As mentioned, Tel Katzir gave the volunteers cigarettes, cheap Nesha beer and as much red dinner wine as you wanted! The food was healthy and excellent. The experience was of its time. 

Working on Kibbutz Tel Katzir in 77’ I was taken off site a couple of times. One day I went to the banana co-op that we belonged to, a central packing distribution centre nearby in the Jordan Valley. I was quite a good banana stacker, all in the technique...lots of bigger blokes hurt their backs doing it. Anyway, this day, there I was watching these three giants unloading the hagalah. Eventually when I asked what I was supposed to do. The Israeli just said “Wait until they get tired and you can take over”.

On another occasion, our ‘banana team’, made up of about 15 people, including the Israeli members, were invited to the house of the Arab guy who supplied us with the chicken poo fertiliser. It was wonderful being served a ten-course meal with no luxury spared. All sorts of roast meat, sweat deserts, the best European spirits and Belgium chocolate. We were served by the men of the family only getting a fleeting glimpse of the females of the group. It felt a bit awkward at times because although it was a wonderful spread, a couple of the Israeli’s were abrupt asking for seconds of the cigars. I know it was done ‘tongue in cheek’ but awkward to me.

Another day twenty of us volunteers were taken for the day by truck to work on a place atop a big hill. They were in the first stages on constructing buildings and pathways. Only in later years I realised that this was probably a new settlement somewhere down the Jordan Valley, on the way to the West Bank. As you would imagine quite a few new experiences for a young Londoner. On Tel Katzir I had never driven before but they trusted me to drive the tractor and trailer back up from the fields. I had no idea about the gears! I drove past one of the members who nodded but I knew he had his doubts about my driving ability. Probably the best thing about working on a kibbutz was that material things meant very little. Most of us had just the clothes on our back. You got by on who you were, not what you had. In just a short time people got very close. I can understand the feeling that these reality TV people get in isolation from the real world. Kibbutz was like that. You worked hard, played strongly and were virtually care-free. That is why, in spite of leaving after six months that first time I knew I would return and did so on two more occasions. Leaving in June 77’ I had realised that I wanted to be a school teacher but had return to study in order to do so. The world had also changed somewhat by the time I returned to London. My cousin Tony Beard took me out to film premier up at Tottenham Court Road, as a treat when returning home. “It’s a space film” he said. Going along, it was quite enjoyable. “They may have hit on something there, Tony”. I speculated. And so it was, Star Wars  turned out to be quite a thing.

Drop ten, turn and Face.’ Quilty’s Football Yarns 30 Study and travel.

‘Drop ten, turn and Face.’ 

Quilty’s Football Yarns 30

Study and travel.

Returning home to London after six months on Kibbutz in 1977 was difficult. Not least because I realised it would be tough to become what I had set my heart on. Becoming a teacher. Walking out of Parmiter’s in early in 71’ with Billy Lee had meant I had booked a future price to pay. I had to take a few steps backwards to go forward to finish my education. My cousin Kim had done teacher training up at Tottenham Teaching College, so she arranged an interview for me with the Dean. I reasoned that my seven years of work experience might get me some consideration. I was bitterly disappointed. The best they could say was,

 “Get one A Level and we will make you an offer”

My response was to say “If I study, I won’t get one, I’ll actually get three A Level’s and won’t be training here!” And so it was. I left Tottenham Teaching College that afternoon with the fire of intention burning fiercely in my heart.

Immediately I went to enrol at Hackney College, Stoke Newington Campus. At school I’d actually started A Levels with English being my favourite. However, at 23 my interests had shifted and I went with Economics, History and Political Science. 

Sometimes in life you tell a little white lie to make things a bit more straightforward. This was the case when I told mum I was going to train for teaching. It was complicated. I needed two years for A Levels, three years for an Honours Degree and a year Post Graduate study. Six years all up. In the event I was training to be a teacher for six years. Simple. I just said it was a six year course. Not everyone has such supportive parents. Whether going away to travel or stopping work to study, at that time, you were doing a less than typical thing. I always said the fact that 95% were content to do the regular thing allowed a few to be irresponsible and swim against the tide. After my Tottenham Teaching College experience, Hackney College provided me with a great platform for my re-entry into education. Della Bishop for Politics, Lawrie Patterson for History and Frank Moore for Economics all challenged me in different ways. Della through discussion, Lawrie through story-telling and Frank through analysis. Between them they awoke me to ideas, helped build a framework for understanding and most importantly gave me my passport to eventually head up to Leeds University for four years in the cold harsh north.

Early in the summer of 78’, after my first years study I set off again back to Israel with three mates. Gary Collins, Johnny Colbert and Steve Pearce. We going back to Tel Katzir for four months. To say that I had missed the Kibbutz was an understatement. To me the Israeli Kibbutzniks came across as abrupt group. They were very straight and told things with no frills. We worked and played hard. That said it was probably the life experience that taught us all how to stand still and reflect. Being out of our normal societal loop we rarely carried or needed money. Food was literally a smorgasbord every day exposing us to tastes and combinations we’d rarely seen previously. Because our months often raced by the good and bad were usually accentuated. Almost to a person there, we realised how lucky and privileged we were to experience Kibbutz life. Taking three other boys from East London was a bit of a risk. Settling into the communal way of life it entailed, wasn’t easy but Gary and Johnny got stuck into the physical banana work immediately. Unfortunately, young Stevie Pearce found things a lot harder. He was probably homesick, struggling with a new culture and became mentally very defensive, being surrounded by so many foreigners. At the time there a large group of American students on Tel Katzir doing ‘Ulpan’ a mixture of cultural exchange and study. Gary did what he always did. He found ways to entertain himself often at the expense of the American students we were working with, tormenting them non-stop. Johnny just went with the flow and I think he had a good time. One night the other three had gone to prank the Americans who were sleeping in the bomb shelter. Storming in with flour and stuff they were out to wake them up making a mess. Not the best thing to be doing in the middle of the night on a border Kibbutz! They were followed down the stairs by armed security guards who must have close to doing something serious hearing the commotion. A close call.

The way things worked on Kibbutz was that you worked for six days a week and accumulated an extra day off which could be used for a week’s travel. Israel is a small but very diverse country. We were in Galilee near the Golan Heights. Just an hour’s drive north, was the Lebanese border.  Just five kilometres north east was the triple border between Syria, Jordan and Israel. The capital Jerusalem was two hours due south through the Jordan Valley, Nazareth due west and Bethlehem and the Dead Sea just a bit on from Jerusalem. 

The Old City of Jerusalem is a wonderful place. It is a walled city steeped in history and when you enter it, it is like going back in time. Safe to say it is my favourite City in the world. The ‘Via Dolorosa’ is a route famous for its 14 ‘stations’ but many would not realise how steep the incline is up to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The name ‘Via Dolorosa’ means ‘Way of Sorrow’ and it is a street believed to be the path walked by Jesus on his way to the cross. The city is so mesmerising that on one occasion I wandered alone for a few days on my own. The next morning I awoke to see massed crowds on the streets. Puzzled I asked someone what was going on. “It’s Easter” they replied. I’d been away from London a while and completely lost track of time and dates. That year was the one where a new Pope had been elected but had quickly died. I was in Jerusalem while the Catholic’s were choosing a replacement in Rome and the faithful were abuzz.  We often stayed in the old city and my favourite place was the Lutheran Hostel in a building probably over a thousand years old. The hostel itself had men’s and women’s quarters. One night while sleeping in one of the top bunks I had a nightmare and jumped across toward an alcove window in the wall. My neighbour sleeping in the bed below shone his light on me as I squatted in the alcove. When he asked what happened I just said, “The bed was chasing me”.

This wasn’t the only animated dream I had in Israel. On Tel Katzir I always worried about the way people drove the tractors at speed around Kibbutz. Crazy Israeli drivers! I worried that the young kids would get hurt. On this night I was sharing a room with two other volunteers. In my dream some young children were in the way of a vehicle that was backing up toward them. Instinctively I moved to push them out of the way of danger. In reality, I had jumped up out of bed, lifted a coffee table full of bottles, after shave and chocolate, and thrown it across the room. With a crash, it bounced on the tiled floor, broke into two and hit my unsuspecting mate’s bed. My other room-mate had quickly jumped up and grabbed me as I waded through the floor of broken glass and after the table. After I awoke and everything had calmed down, I looked at the coffee table and knew in my woken state I could not have even lifted it, let alone throw it! Strangely enough no one came to see what had gone on. It could have been terrorists or whatever. We always joked that the British volunteers slept with their passports under their pillows. They obviously had faith that attackers would do a document check before proceeding!

Eventually it was time to return to London for the second year of my A Level study. The boys had gone off a bit earlier to travel across Europe before heading home as well. Another time had passed on Tel Katzir. I was leaving but knew I’d be returning again one day.